Bradley P. Beaulieu - A Wasteland of My Gods Own Making: A Shattered Sands Novella

Copyright 2018 by Bradley P. Beaulieu

This story first appeared in Hath No Fury

2018 by Outland Entertainment

Cover art by Ren Aigner 2018

Cover design by Bradley P. Beaulieu

Author photo courtesy of Al Bogdan

All rights reserved.

All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly coincidental. The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal, and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the authors rights is appreciated.

First Edition: February 2019

ISBN: 978-1-93964-932-4 (Paperback)

ISBN: 978-1-93964-930-0 (epub)

ISBN: 978-1-93964-931-7 (Kindle)

Please visit me on the web at

http://www.quillings.com

Also by Bradley P. Beaulieu

The Lays of Anuskaya

The Winds of Khalakovo

The Straits of Galahesh

The Flames of Shadam Khoreh

Short Story Collections

Lest Our Passage Be Forgotten & Other Stories

In the Stars Ill Find You

Novellas

Strata (with Stephen Gaskell)

The Burning Light (with Rob Zeigler)

The Song of the Shattered Sands

Twelve Kings in Sharakhai

With Blood Upon the Sand

A Veil of Spears

Of Sand and Malice Made

Praise for Twelve Kings in Sharakhai

Beaulieu has proved himself able to orchestrate massive storylines in his previous series, the Lays of Anuskaya trilogy. But Twelve Kings lays down even more potential. Fantasy and horror, catacombs and sarcophagi, resurrections and revelations: The book has them all, and Beaulieu wraps it up in a package thats as graceful and contemplative as it is action-packed and pulse-pounding.

NPR Books

Twelve Kings in Sharakhai is the gateway to what promises to be an intricate and exotic tale. The characters are well defined and have lives and histories that extend past the boundaries of the plot. The culture is well fleshed out and traditional gender roles are exploded. eda and Emre share a relationship seldom explored in fantasy, one that will be tried to the utmost as similar ideals provoke them to explore different paths. I expect that this universe will continue to expand in Beaulieus skillful prose. Wise readers will hop on this train now, as the journey promises to be breathtaking.

Robin Hobb, author of The Assassins Apprentice

The protagonist, pit-fighter eda, is driven but not cold, and strong but not shallow. And the initial few scenes of violence and sex, while very engaging, soon give way to a much richer plot. Beaulieu is excellent at keeping a tight rein on the moment-to-moment action and building up the tension and layers of mysteries.

SciFiNow (9 / 10 Rating)

I am impressed An exceedingly inventive story in a lushly realized dark setting that is not your uncles Medieval Europe. Ill be looking forward to the next installment.

Glen Cook, author of The Black Company

This is an impressive performance.

Publishers Weekly

Racine novelist delivers a compelling desert fantasy in Twelve Kings.

The Milwaukee Journal Sentinel

Beaulieus intricate world-building and complex characters are quickly becoming the hallmarks of his writing, and if this opening volume is any indication, The Song of the Shattered Sands promises to be one of the next great fantasy epics.

Jim Kellen, Science Fiction and Fantasy Book Buyer for Barnes & Noble

Bradley P. Beaulieus new fantasy epic is filled with memorable characters, enticing mysteries, and a world so rich in sensory detail that you can feel the desert breeze in your hair as you read. eda is hands-down one of the best heroines in the genrestrong, resourceful, and fiercely loyal to friends and family. Fantasy doesnt get better than this!

C. S. Friedman, author of The Coldfire Trilogy

A Wasteland of My God's Own Making

As the sun broke above the horizon, Djaga Akoyo rushed from the heavily shadowed streets into the entrance hall of the collegium medicum. The streets were cool from the chill desert night, but this place was frigid, a feeling that seeped deep below Djaga's skin, making her quicken her pace all the more.

"May I help?" An attendantfrom the looks of him a scholar fresh from receiving his laurel crownstrode toward her, calm as a wading heron. When he saw the dried blood caked along the front of her beaten leather armor, however, his eyes went wide as the moons. "Oh!" was all he said.

"Calm yourself," Djaga told him. "It isn't mine." Not all of it, in any case. "A woman name Nadin was taken here yesterday. A stab wound to the gut. Where is she?"

The young man opened his mouth, but nothing came out. "I've only just arrived."

"Well, go find her!" Djaga shouted.

"I'll take her, Ari." A tall, black-skinned woman had exited the hallway ahead of them, a high physic named Malanga. She had striking eyes and a pretty smile. The wheat-colored robes she wore was the preferred uniform in the collegium medicum, yet it seemed chosen to match her lustrous black hair, which was braided into a beehive coil atop her head. She'd treated Djaga several times, courtesy of Djaga's more vigorous battles in the pits; she even hailed from Djaga's homeland of Kundhun, yet they'd traded no more than a bit of idle chitchat over the years. Djaga felt poor about it now.

After waving the young scholar away, Malanga motioned for Djaga to follow. To Djaga's relief, Malanga seemed to have a sense of urgency about her.

"You should be prepared," she said to Djaga as they strode swiftly along the halls, "we've done all we could, but"

"Just tell me how much time she has left."

Djaga had known Nadin's fate from the moment she'd seen the extent of the wound to her stomach. She'd just prayed that Nadin would still be alive upon her return from the desert.

"She won't see the sunset," Malanga said. From the occupied rooms to either side of the hall issued the sounds of low conversation, coughing, moaning, or the shuffle of sandaled feet. "She's so far refused milk of the poppy in hopes that you'd return, but she is in deep pain. The longer you wait"

"Djaga?" The voice had come from the room ahead but it sounded frail, ghostlike. "Djaga, is that you?"

Djaga swallowed before speaking softly to Malanga. "l would spare her her pain, but I must speak with her first."

"The longer you wait" Malanga tried again.

"She must know this before she departs for the farther fields."

After a pause, Malanga nodded and left.

Djaga used tentative steps to enter the room. She turned toward the bed, and the world seemed to spin. Nadin lay there, but she looked a completely different woman. Her copper skin was pale, almost yellow. Her lips were bloodless. She seemed to have fallen in on herself, a beautiful cavern collapsed after an earthquake. Swallowing the hard knot in her throat, Djaga stepped to the bedside. She'd known this was going to happen, but to now be faced with it...

Nadin grimaced, reached one hand out. "Did you find her?"

Djaga pulled a chair close to the bedside and took Nadin's quivering hand, swathed it in her own. "Yes, I found her."