A bit of THoF

I know I just posted a blog entry.  But I'm just too excited to be writing again.  I thought I'd give you a bit to read from The Hand of Fate.

Chapter One

A dark haired young man lay sprawled across his bed in a tangle of bed sheets and naked bodies.  He curled up against one of the bodies, wrapping his arms around the woman’s supple waist and ignoring her sleepy murmur.  A blaring horn came from far off, sending a shock of pain through the young man’s head.  He buried his face in the woman’s long mess of hair, praying to the Olds Gods to silence the horn.  Still, the infernal instrument continued to blast away, coming closer with every moment.  The boy stretched out his hands and pulled yet another woman to him.  He pressed his ear to her chest, only to push her away when the beating of her heart caused his head to pound in time with it.  Again, the horn sounded.

Aubrey tore himself from the bed, spilling half empty bottles of Elven wine and mead off the nightstand.  He stumbled around the clusters of rubbish, clothing, and slumbering Immortals that littered his floor.  The trip to the door was, for the most part, a success.  He had managed to only tread on three or four drunks and kick bottles at two.  Just as he was about to open the door, Aubrey realized that the horn blasting had sounded different than usual.  Also, that he might need to appear semi-decent if he were going to go amongst the people. 

The Prince of Exiles doubled back in a search for something to wear.  In his search, Aubrey caused a few more injuries.  While the boy couldn’t bring himself to take someone else’s breeches, he had no issue with pulling the tunic off one of his friends.  It was, after all, by far cleaner than any of the shirts Aubrey had lying around.  The prince slipped the shirt over his head and fastened the breeches around his waist.  By the time he was dressed, Aubrey was still not even remotely awake.

             In the corridor, the Prince of Exiles skirted around courtiers and servants on his way to Battle Sanctum, the room used by his family for war preparations.  After tripping over what felt like half of the court and hearing their shocked whispers about his lack of formal, clean clothing, Aubrey finally made it down three flights of stairs to the Guard’s Corridor.  Anything dealing with security could be found in this one section of the Court of Exiles.

            “My Lord, the best of morrows,” a member of the Lower Guard greeted Aubrey as he entered the Guard’s Corridor, silently forgiving the royal for his casual dress of a loose fitted shirt and breeches that had a mish-mash of stains on them.  Aubrey stared at the man, causing the guard to wink a teal colored eye at the prince.  “We’ll all have much to celebrate now, my Lord,” he said.  Aubrey resisted the urge to bite back a response.  It seemed Marius had gotten everyone to rag on his son about the constant parties.

            The guard lowered his brown curl covered head for a moment, a smile still plastered on his sun burnt face as he paid particular attention to a stretch of polish on the golden pistol in his hands.  Aubrey decided that the guard must be Roland Cross.  He alone would have such a strange device.  “Are you looking for everyone, sire?” he asked cheerily, his eyes not rising to meet Aubrey’s.   The prince raised an eyebrow at the guard’s tone before deciding it was too early for mind games.  Especially when the prince’s mind was throbbing with the dull ache of the next day consequences of Elven wine.

It's just the first two pages of the book.  Let me know what you think if you haven't already.

And we'll call that a post.