In a realm on the brink of chaos, one guard must walk a dark path to protect her royal friend from a deadly foe… Solancei Calverhana, handmaiden and childhood friend of Princess Iambre, is not just any ordinary servant. A highly skilled soldier, she is also Iambre’s sworn secret Shield, duty-bound to protect the princess in exchange for her own life if needs be. And that’s just fine. After all - despite the recent fallouts - Solancei considers her and Iambre’s friendship worth dying for, and she is ready. Except for what comes next! Because when danger strikes, it’s from a most unexpected direction. Suddenly swept from Iambre’s side when an illegal duel drops her into darkness, Solancei must now somehow balance her own survival and the protection of her friend with no other weapons to defend them than her wits and The State of Veranto, a mystic skill that she has had little recent success in controlling and may yet prove her undoing. Trapped by a hateful, cold foe masquerading to the world as an ally, can Solancei walk the perilous tightrope of mental games and physical hazards to escape and warn Iambre of the betrayal coming from the shadows? Or will she break and become the very thing that could destroy the princess? Time is precious, and not just for Solancei and Iambre. Beyond the Realms of Dallancea lies the Void – the prison that binds the mad gods from returning to unleash chaos upon the world of the living. The Guardians and the Veils are all that stand between the gods and a ruinous future, but with the new millennium approaches new opportunities. The Guardians, no longer immortal or all-powerful, are at odds and their circle ripe with dissent…

In the realm of Ostravah, magic lies broken and forgotten. Now, with the approaching millennium, an ancient strife that has spanned aeons will soon rekindle because the capricious Gods never rest - and they want their dues... Charged with locating the elusive Twins who are fated to operate the very Artefact that can save the world of Dallancea from war for yet another millennium, First Guardian Malandar Denarlin Cor’Esardan travels through the Ostravahn Realm with the hope that he can intercept the fated pair before the agents of chaos. Yet there is little to encourage him that he will stand successful. Lack of magic, delays, and a strange new personal affliction, repeatedly play havoc with his senses and purpose. It is painfully obvious to Malandar that new strategy is needed, but the brazen tactics he has in mind will also instantly break the creator’s laws – something that will exact a personal price beyond what he might be prepared to pay, for in failure lies madness and danger, and a weapon of such scope that it could potentially destroy Ostravah. Yet desperate times require sacrifices because Malandar exists for vengeance - but can the end ever justify the means? As First Guardian, Malandar is far from persuaded that he should step onto this new dangerous path, but with the fight to come, perhaps he does not hold the luxury of choice! Meanwhile, though worries about her life-shield have left her on edge, a penitent Princess Iambre makes up with Lance-Captain, Bilandro Metavo - instantly ensnaring him in all the wrong ways. However, if once a thief and shady knife-fighter with little thought for consequence, Bilan is now a reformed character and determined to honour the trust of the King whom he owes everything - including his current commission that bids him safe-guard Iambre, not dishonour her. Still, Bilan concedes that a man is just a man, and with Iambre’s viper-cold cousin, Solancei, curiously absent-duty, he is hard pushed to fight the persuasions of his head and the desires of his heart… Excerpt: It was a folly better suited a 1st Tier Novice, yet the illusion was still worth spinning, for with a little compression of air and a slight bending of light, the horse-coper became as malleable as hot wax. It was interesting, yet unsurprising. Seemed Harkubsah was indeed a weak fool... Malandar blinked, serenely severing the hold. In response, a shudder seemed to pass through Jab Harkubsah as the illusion vaporised like smoke from an acid burn, and then, as if he had just been pulled from the Void, the man straightened with a gasp as the present came ‘rushing back’ to envelope him once more. If he’d been petty, Malandar would have called this experience gratifying. He was not though, and in truth, he felt nothing – not even when the coper gulped down breath after breath, eying him with horror now. “What…?” the man stammered, “Wha… what jus’…” To spare himself the inevitable dribble of words he knew must necessarily come as soon as the horse monger could muster enough courage to release his tongue, Malandar leaned forward slightly to save the man the trouble. “No, you were not dreaming!” he offered without mercy, “and yes, I just held you on the cusp of insanity; and yes, you will remember this for a very long time but by your Name: Jab Harkubsah, it is not to be shared.” Swallowing almost painfully slow, the man nodded his obedience but Malandar still carried on, “Now, let this be a lesson to you: be a better person and treat my kind with the respect we are owed! Know that if you or any of your ‘associates’ come after me - i

In the realm of Ostravah, magic lies broken and forgotten. Now, with the approaching millennium, an ancient strife that has spanned aeons will soon rekindle because the capricious Gods never rest - and they want their dues... As this high fantasy continues, the mystery and darkness deepen... Facing an unpredictable foe whose obscure demands could potentially threaten everything she holds dear, life-shield Solancei Calverhana’s desperate circumstances seem to take yet another turn for the worse. As she fights back, a bold escape attempt leads her only deeper into trouble as she loses her way within the bowels of an old dungeon where an unexpected, but harrowing discovery awaits. It leads her to the fearful conclusion that the nightmare-tales she and the rest of Ostravah believe to be little more than ‘horrors of the imagination’, may just be based on terrifying fact and truth, after all. However, what is the truth? The things that crawl from the fires and hunt by the shadows of night can surely not be real, can they? In fact, though a frightening concept to consider, can she actually trust what her eyes and mind show? Or is the State of Veranto spinning illusions out of her exhaustion and her extended abuse of the mind-link? Neither possibility appeals, but now physically and mentally haunted and hunted through the maze of abandoned stone tunnels, the more pressing question is: how long she can elude capture? And should she even try? As Solancei’s choices rapidly dwindle, she is pushed by oaths and conscience not to give up, but as her mind seems that of someone else and as she learns more about the man who rules Zanzier, will she manage to stay head above water, or will she drown in the wave of madness that appears to surround and sweep her along? Never a Gods fearing person - nevertheless, now might be a good time for Solancei to pray for a change in luck... Exerpt Solancei stared hard at her feet. The toes of her boots were scuffed. Lingering evidence of mud dulled the mute colour and the leather bore several artistic lines of water damage besides. It’d take a lot of grease to set it right… She twisted her fingers. Would that she could somehow sneak her boots into the general pile of items that would be seen to by Iambre’s multi-talented host of people. Would that she could. “…and I think you’d agree?” At the sharp lift to his words, Solancei startled, realising that he’d asked her a question, but unable to hide the fact that she’d apparently faded from attention. Fleck, her head was full of mush… “Look at me,” he demanded with the same edge of danger as before and Solancei looked up, smoothing shimmering confusion. “I would see your face and those dark eyes of yours,” he continued with a poignant glare, “Otherwise, how would I read what you are contemplating?”

In the realm of Ostravah, magic lies broken and forgotten. Now, with the approaching millennium, an ancient strife that has spanned aeons will soon rekindle because the capricious Gods never rest - and they want their dues... The debilitating uncertainties continue… Solancei, Duchess of Ivanor and secret life shield of Iambre Actarione, is certain of one thing only: that her present situation cannot possibly get any stranger. However, when her jackal fight tormentor drags an unhinged prisoner before her, she is forced to bend her neck to the Gods’ overwhelmingly bad sense of humour, for not only does the ranting madman seem to know her, he also insists on calling her Mistress, and moves to protect her. Though she may not live to see sunlight again, Solancei still knows she cannot let this seemingly innocent man suffer either. Yet, will she manage to save this mad prisoner from his intended fate or is her unpredictable captor simply toying with them both? And what does he actually want? Playing a dangerous game to keep her true identity hidden, she is forced to wonder if she too will become a mad, abused substance addict like the other prisoner - or if the Gods might for once show mercy and favour her? Regardless of Gods or men, as Solancei counts her own fleeting odds, she is certain of the repercussions to Iambre, should she falter - and so for duty and love, she must prevail no matter the cost to herself. Likewise mired, a victim of her own unsettling circumstances, Princess Iambre of Ostravah is heart sore from the binding promise finally made to her true love, Captain Metavo. Solancei’s continued absence wreak havoc with her thoughts, and feeling the need to do the ‘right thing’ has suddenly very little to do with what’s proper and everything to do with following a gut instinct that tells her she must act to help her missing Shield or else lose her forever. But how can she make a move when she is watched wherever she goes and remains surrounded by Zanzier’s sycophantic nobles? Her ungraceful host conducts himself like a bore and threatens her patience, but worst of all he inspires aversion and suspicions of the worst kind, something that leaves her ever wary of his agenda. Meanwhile, Zanzierian Lord Simarovien Zulavi pursue plans of his own. An uneasy alliance with a noble 'loon' from Tuxama Lake promises to produce the results he has long been striving for, but when a trial to test an old set of supposed-magical stones proves successful, Zulavi should perhaps be wondering if there is more to the ramblings of his bookish scholar-ally than meets the eyes? Tan’Xaviar is peculiar and turns Zulavi’s guts, but an ally is an ally. At least, for now… Excerpt Blinking twice, she resisted the urge to rub her eyes. The heat combined with her intense stare was making her eyes water and her vision dance, but again the question of Angemar’s goal persisted to overshadow personal discomforts. Was he simply going to walk past the Demonai? Was that his plan? Solancei shifted as if she was walking at his heels. As the monsters continued to shrink into submission, their peculiar thin bodies bending to obey this silent pressure Angemar appeared to assert, she was inspired to notions of awe. What was happening was both flecking impossible and brilliant and she couldn’t take her eyes off of the sight. The air was pregnant with expectation.

Dark revelations are afoot… Having witnessed first-hand, the terrible merciless hunger of the Knights Commander Simarovien Zulavi’s Demonai ‘pets’ – Solancei, Shield and childhood friend of Ostravahn Crown Princess Iambre, cannot seem to escape this unpredictable man’s clutches. A fellow prisoner’s strange words continue to haunt her whilst her Link to the State of Veranto remains her only hope to survive the pressures placed upon her, but within her core, the Veranto seems to have taken on a peculiar life of its own – something that she has never experienced before. Solancei knows it could be a natural development of her abilities or it could be the detrimental side-effects of her sustained abuse of the Link, but even fearing an eventual lash back, she cannot surrender to Zulavi. Within her an icy light beckons, offering the notions of protection, but can she trust this fey, unknown side of the Veranto enough to give herself over? And despite her circumstances, should she? Zulavi is playing a strange game she cannot second guess, but as he prepares to torture the desired information from her, she fears herself out of luck. Caught in the middle of an impossible set of choices, Solancei knows her health and entire future will be forfeit, but Oaths spoken and signed should never be broken, nor should the sanctity of friendship – and particularly not as an accidental revelation of Zulavi’s designs reveals a plot that could undo all and everything she holds dear. Whilst Solancei’s grace is running short, Princess Iambre makes plans of her own to navigate the narrow perimeters placed upon her - and whom does she call for help but the one person she can really trust. However, though Captain Bilan Metavo undoubtedly loves her, said affection could also very well be the thing to prevent him from aiding her as requested. Iambre also knows she must do something to quell her fears for Solancei’s life, but will Bilan comply? Or understand? It seems it must come down to another trial of trust and truths - only this time, ‘no’ is not an acceptable answer. Meanwhile, First Guardian Malandar Denarlin also ponders the limits placed upon him. With the Ostravahn magic torn and broken, certain conclusions merit that he can take only one avenue to protect the ever-elusive Twins, the Tarvia and the Alscara, but can this be done? As everything seems to frustrate beyond reason, a sudden unexpected breakthrough in the search for the sundered Astrolabe lightens the day, however with every Guardian sheltering private agendas, what should be done with such news? The Upper Circle is a unit chosen by the Maker Alérathnar, but how deep does the truth of their oaths hold the remaining nine avatars in place if the Maker Himself is now sleeping or worse? To Malandar it seems there are several hard choices to be made - but even harder times ahead… “….. the Missing Shield builds a world of strong women and mysterious guardians who are on a collision course of destinies. The depth of detail in each character’s inner dialogue sets the stage for the strife to come…. This a full-immersion experience for fantasy lovers.” Quote from a reviewer on Amazon.Ca:

In the realm of Ostravah, magic lies broken and forgotten. Now, with the approaching millennium, an ancient strife that has spanned aeons is about to rekindle because the capricious Gods never rest - and they want their dues... Not the kind of person to take ‘no’ for an answer, Princess Iambre has got a plan to join Chief of Security, Eso Mehadja’s team as they venture out into Zanzier Town to follow a lead that might reveal where her friend and life-shield Solancei has disappeared to. But sometimes you just don’t know that you are in too deep before it’s much too late – something which the brazen princess is soon to learn as her cunning meddling brings about a frightening backlash that leaves her running for her life. Suddenly alone in an city unknown to her - without anyone or anything to call upon except her own fears and determination, Iambre is left no choice but to navigate the bowels of Zanzier in effort to get back to safety, but the night holds many strange wonders and events – enough to make the Princess wish she’d listened to advice a hundred fold over. However, when the strange string of incidents culminates in the encounter with a most-frustrating and most-unexpected guide, Iambre’s hard-found resolve is questioned all over when she makes one final, and seemingly an impossible, discovery. Excerpt from the book: She looked back to the ships with a weak sense of relief and a strong sense of despair. The Keep was up there. Some of it was just visible. She could be back within the safety of Zanzier Castle earlier than an hour from now - perhaps less, if lucky. As to how she might get back in though…? She shook her head angrily. She’d run blindly from the danger she wouldn’t even have been in, had she only been wiser in the first place. Stupid… so stupid! As though on a whim, something quivered within, raising new stupid tears. How many blunders was a future sovereign allowed to make? Too late now to admit that Bilan been right; that Eso had been right! Gods, but where was the luck in that? A painful notion that she needed help reared up, but the waterfront remained frustratingly empty of people. Even if brave, there was no one to hail, no one to press for succour... It left the streets ahead, yet when she got there…? Perhaps part of her reluctance in attracting attention lay with the fact that in reality she feared it slim chance someone actually rallying to help. And if they did, where to go back to? Relocating the spot they’d been attacked would be all but impossible, and Bilan would still… She refused to finish the thought. It didn’t matter. The earth would move for her. It had to! Of course, she would need to give up her identity then. The ‘mess’ would get ‘boggy’, but this was all on her. Her responsibility! People made mistakes… and they fixed them. Yet though she’d never before been faced with doubt that anyone might ever question her station - in this outfit, ‘whiffing’ of gutter perfume and without a single piece of finery to her name…? For sure, just this once, her authority might well be questioned, and who would believe her? ‘But I am the Heiress! And I demand your aid!’ Iambre shook her head mentally. No, even she could see the problem! By the time she’d manage to straighten matters, it’d all be too late. Much, much too late… Her belly twisted – no stench needed.

If you think your circumstances cannot get any worse - just know that they can. And that they will… Out in the back streets of a foreign, dirty city – Iambre, Princess of the Ostravahn fifteen provinces – struggles to cope with the decision of her next move. Are the Gods on her side? Or are they playing a game, using her as a pawn for their entertainment? Bizarrely, through strange serendipity, she finds herself just where she wanted to be: in front of the very inn she’d hoped to locate in time to follow-up on a lead on her missing friend and life-shield, Solancei. But the night is young and trouble seems drawn to Iambre. She’s come far. To leave the search to the professionals should seem obvious. And yet… With Bilan Metavo, her captain and would-be beau, now injured or worse after protecting her, Iambre knows she should turn her thoughts back to the issues her own safety, but her fear for Solancei’s welfare pushes her to venture where she’d thought never to go. Will it be worth it? Or prove her downfall? Will she triumph or end in jail: disgraced and forced to sign the death warrant of her friends? Soon another aspect of the real world will pull Iambre into yet more danger and intrigue as she pursues the question of her missing Shield’s location and finally makes an eye-opening discovery. But what is the truth and whom can you trust? The evening is still young and yet a betrayal is imminent. New allies and dangerous foes roll forth to tighten the suspense. Mistakes are easy to make and hard to rectify - yet Iambre learns that if she gives up for even just one heartbeat when it matters, Solancei may be lost forever… Meanwhile, across the continent in the Realm of the Sabén-Heshep Elvern… Excerpt – Magic lay across the collection like a seal. It was a precaution… She looked at the single sheet Mehand’Arun had given Sinuhé. It seemed to pulse… Nefer stretched a hand towards the parchment, the black cypher for ‘Venzoian’ with its accompanying date of events burning like magical symbol: all at once both encouraging and warning. If she could just find- “No! Don’t touch it!” Guardian Sinuhé Sedjem-Alhath’naar yelped, attention suddenly swivelling with all-urgent alarm. Jumping to his feet, he swatted at her hand. Too late… Nefer’s fingertips did little more than brush the edge of the golden parchment, but as though she’d released a spell of her own, the air contracted upon touch, bunching just once like some alien accordion of air. Then it reversed and expanded. Faster than a blink, a feeling of discord struck. A punch of magic, it repelled her backwards with a violent thrust of power; it was done before anyone could have said words to counter the effect and as Nefer was thrown towards the plain whitewashed render of the near wall, she could have been a boneless rag doll launched by the hand of a giant. Surprise coursed like a lilting brook down the pit of her belly; she just about had time to see Sinuhé’s horrified expression; then her body impacted with a ‘crack’ and her head seemed to explode in colour, only it didn’t hurt.