Fire 'N Bryce - Sneak Peek!

Here's your chance at a sneak peek of Fire 'N Bryce! This short story takes place between Season One and Season Two of The Sidhe and is the first time we see Bryce's point of view. We hope you enjoy the story!

Chapter One

Even as he did an aerial twist, dodging the stone projectiles thrown at him, Bryce coiled fire between his hands. The heat he generated was tremendous, but that wasn’t what made sweat coat his skin and drip from his red hair. The burning magic was bigger than a rugby ball when he flung it at his assailant. It collided center mass with the stone golem, exploding into smoke and cinders, and searing the top layer of its body. It made a dent, but just barely, and immediately the damage healed right back up, before it raced after him again.

“You need more mass behind your flames,” Donovan instructed.

And Bryce already knew that. He knew it every single time his magic burst on impact instead of driving a hole right through his target.

Growling with his effort, he tried again, coiling up the fire as hot and tight as he could. Shoving all his will into the magic like it was the last thing he’d get to do. Like it was do or die. He shoved his fire hard together between his hands, until his gut ached with the effort of pushing and his body trembled. And then he threw the fire again.

And again it shattered into a rain of burning scraps.

His heart pounded with his need to do this. To prove himself. To be the best Sidhe warrior Donovan ever trained.

The golem rushed for him and Bryce stood his ground. He streamed a javelin of focused flame right at the stone creation’s face, intent on burning its head right off.

It collided with him in a flying tackle that drove his back to the floor. The golem’s shoulder lodged in his gut to take him down hard, knocking all the air out of him with a yelp of pain.

When he didn’t get up right away, just rolled side to side a bit, the golem disintegrated into sand that ran down to the floor where it was absorbed.

Bryce cracked opened his eyes.

Donovan stood over him, hand extended. “You put everything you have into it, but that’s not enough. Not yet.”

Grimacing, Bryce accepted the hand, and let Donovan yank him to his feet.

“Take a break. We’ll try again later.”

“No. I’m good. We can keep going.” He did his best to resisted the urge to bend at the waist and struggle to catch his breath, but his body didn’t listen to him any more than his fire did.

“Take a break,” Donovan repeated.

Bryce limped over to the bench and slumped down onto it. As he mopped the sweat from his face with a towel, he guzzled the water from a bottle. Out in the middle of the practice room, Kieran demolished his third golem, shattering it with unheard sound vibrations that made the ground shiver beneath Bryce’s trainers. Something as inconsequential as sound could tear things apart, when his fire, which should be flat out the deadliest magic of the lot, couldn’t make more than a singe mark.

He knew fire could do some flat brilliant stuff. He’d gotten Donovan to tell him all about the fire Sidhe from the Mounds. Especially the ones that had been Elite, like him. Deadly assassins and fierce warriors. Just like Donovan.

Just like what Bryce knew he could be.

Not like poor Malcolm, with hardly enough magic to rub together to even notice. He’d be furious, too, if he’d gotten the short end of the magic stick. That was why the lad used his knife to strike at the golem coming at him. Bryce and Malcolm were the same age, but Malcolm was thinner and more agile. He looked like a ninja when he tumbled, like he always knew right where his body was in space, but he almost always wanted to charge in with his blade rather than waste time with the fancier stuff.

Both the other lads were deadlier than him. They’d both had their first kills under their belts, too. And if Donovan ever needed someone at his back in a fight, he’d probably want either of them.

Leastwise, for now.

Bryce tossed down the towel and bounded back into the workout room. “OK, I’m ready. Let’s go again.” He bounced on the balls of his feet.

As Donovan raked his gaze over him, Bryce could feel the assessment. Like Donovan was checking him for weakness. Looking for a reason to send him back to the bench. So he flamed over his hands, just to prove how ready he was. The fire licked up his arms, but the heat didn’t hurt him at all. And his sleeves didn’t catch fire either, because it was stuff made by the dwarves and couldn’t burn. Even before he spoke, Bryce could see it in his eyes that he meant not to let him go back in. “I have something else I want you to do. Dawn needs to return to the fairy’s grove. Her foster father is sick and they’ve sent for her.” He checked the wall clock. “She’ll be leaving in half an hour. Just long enough for you to shower and grab an overnight bag.”

His shoulders slumped. The eager grin melted into a grimace. “Fairies?”

“No one travels alone.”

And Bryce knew that rule. Especially now that the Seelie and Donovan had crossed swords. That guy was one bad ass bloke, but Bryce still put his money on Donovan. But if that Seelie meant to hurt Dawn, or even him, there wasn’t much Bryce could do to stop him. He’d coated him with fire once before, and the Seelie had ripped it all apart.

Even still, what would that Seelie bloke want with a bunch of stupid fairies? They were almost a hundred percent unlikely to run into him out in some old mossy woods.

When Bryce didn’t move right away, Donovan gave him ‘the look’ and that got him going.

That look alone should be enough to bring the Seelie to his stupid knees. It scared the living crap out of Bryce.

And made him only all the more determined to prove himself worthy of something more than escorting Dawn to frivolous fairyville.

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New Release: Fire 'N Bryce

 Bryce hero worships Donovan, the former head of the Unseelie Elite who has gathered and protected the fey of the Glamour Club. As one of Donovan's earthborn Sidhe, training to become the new Elite, Bryce craves the chance to prove himself like Malcolm and Kieran have. Which is why an escort mission to a fairy village is the last thing he wants to do. Until what was supposed to be an easy assignment turns deadly.

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As we prepare to launch Season Two of The Sidhe, we have just released Fire ‘n Bryce on to Kindle, Smashwords and Barnes and Noble.

Fire ‘n Bryce takes place between Season One and Season Two.

It also has a sneak peek at the first chapter of Into Darkness, the first book in Season Two, coming out in the next couple of weeks!

Also… We are just loading the last of Season One onto Smashwords in the next few days, which means everything will be showing up in Barnes and Noble, Kobo and other ebook stores in the next few weeks. We’ll announce the links when they go live!

And thank you for joining us on this adventure! We hope Season Two rocks your socks.

Sneak Peek of Bloodhound - Rise of the Unseelie #4

If you read Enchanted, you will certainly see a lot of crossover into this Rise of the Unseelie story. 

Bloodhound

by S.A. Archer and S. Ravynheart

Chapter One

“You’re so dead, mate!” Bryce shouted over the explosion of gunfire.

Malcolm flung himself back from the onslaught with a growl. “You suck!” Blood splattered on the telly as his man on the video game got massacred for the fifth time in a row. “That’s it! No more Mr. Nice Guy.” He hit the rematch button. “This time I’m bringing out the railgun. See how you like that.”

They jostled into each other as they jumped and dodged with their computer guys in a no-holds-barred, two-player combat to the death.

Again.

It didn’t even matter that Bryce crushed him on the stupid video game. Not really. Leastwise for the last few hours Malcolm hadn’t thought about magic at all. Pretty much, anyway. Donovan was the only one who didn’t think Malcolm’s bloodhound ‘magic’ was lame. The other Sidhe did, even if they played it off like it wasn’t any big deal. Like Malcolm wasn’t too awful weird, just kinda twitchy. But for the last couple hours, he’d just been one of the lads with Bryce, playing this video game like they were just regular 17-year-olds. And Malcolm sorta forgot for a tiny bit that they weren’t just that.

All up until a high-pitched whistle sliced over the racket from the game.

It was one of those annoying sounds that echoed in the brain and not just the ears. Malcolm winced, trying to ignore it as he mashed the buttons at a rapid-fire rate. “What is that? Car alarm?”

“What’s what?” Bryce twisted his controller as if that could make his guy dodge for cover faster. “Got me in the leg, you creep!”

“You don’t hear that? For real?” Malcolm paused the game. Even hunching his shoulders against the constant peal couldn’t stop the sound from jangling his nerves. “That whistle?”

Bryce listened and then shook his head. “I don’t hear anything. It’s probably nothing. Come on.” He unpaused the game. A fresh explosion of noise covered most of the magic, but not the whistle.

Malcolm hardly noticed when he dropped the controller. The first sparks of panic prickled all though him as he jumped up and yanked the power cord out of the wall, shutting up the telly. “Is that Kieran? Where is he?”

“Hey! I was winning!” Bryce scowled.

Malcolm turned in a circle, tilting his head this way and that, studying the magic around him. Through the walls and floor Malcolm saw glowing silhouettes, like seeing heat signatures, only his senses were geared to magic. Flames flickered around Bryce constantly, though no one else saw that. In the flat across from them Dawn twinkled with her healing sparkles. On the floor below the fey mingled in a sea of rainbow hues. Trip’s darkness floated around her like scarves on the wind as she danced in the club with a group of elves. “He’s not in the club.” Malcolm twisted around. “Where’s that sound coming from?” He blinked as the sudden silence startled him. “It just stopped. Only…” The whistle had been wrong. Desperate, like panic. “Where’s Donovan? He’s not in the club either. Is Kieran with him?”

“Who cares?” Bryce reached to plug the telly back in, but Malcolm stepped on the cord. “Will you move your bloody foot?” He swatted at Malcolm’s leg.

“No! Just wait.” Malcolm listened harder, but couldn’t hear anything of Kieran over the clatter filtering up from the fey in the Glamour Club. Even scrunching his eyes closed tight and gripping the sides of his head, Malcolm couldn’t shift through the racket. Sometimes it was all too much; never ending chaos that blared and flashed and buffeted against him. A minute ago, he’d been able to ignore it. Now it was everywhere around him and inside him and pick-pick-picking at him. And right now, reaching for the itty, bittiest thread through all the masses of magic crowding and pounding into his mind, made him want to scream.

Instead, he ran from it. Malcolm raced from Bryce’s flat and up the flight of steps to the roof. A little further from the magic roiling up from the fey in the club. Bryce chased him though, with his ever-present crackle of flame and campfire scent. Malcolm spun in a full circle, actively listening, but hearing nothing of Kieran’s sound magic. Which was wicked bad. Kieran was one noisy chap, constantly buzzing or humming or whirring or something else loud and usually obnoxious. Only now…

Nothing.

Heart pounding, panic mounting, Malcolm shook his head. “Kie’s in trouble. I know it. Where’s Donovan?”

“How would I know?” Exasperated and impatient and totally not getting it. “Malcolm, forget it. You’re freaking out over nothing.”

Everybody always thought it was nothing. Like Malcolm was some kind of nutter. “It’s not nothing!” Malcolm snatched Bryce by the front of his shirt and jerked him close. “Call Donovan!”

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Casting Call: Bryce

 For our fantasy cast, we have selected Lucas Till as the actor we'd love to see in the role of the Unseelie firebrand, Bryce. The character of Bryce makes his first appearance in Aftershock, when Donovan finds him locked up for arson. Because he was untrained in his magic he couldn't help accidentally setting things alight. Since joining the Sidhe of the Glamour Club he's gained a lot of control. Bryce appears throughout the Rise of the Unseelie urban fantasy series.


Here's a snippet from Eyes of Magic, when Malcolm is first introduced to Bryce...


For the rest of the afternoon Kieran played tour guide, giving Malcolm the lay of the club. Flats on the second floor, and all of the ‘earthborn’ Sidhe stayed there. Counting Malcolm, there were just five of them so far, but there were enough flats for more. Donovan wasn’t an earthborn and had his own place somewhere on the basement level. The Glamour Club pretty much filled up the main floor, with some offices and storerooms in the back. The best was the lower level, which was one massive training area with a boxing ring, tumbling mat, punching bags, balance beam, targets, and a whole wall mounted with all manner of weapons. The place smelled like sweat and magic.

Malcolm whispered in awe, “Bloody brilliant.”

The only one other person besides them in the whole basement was a redheaded fellow who pitched fist-sized balls of fire at a metal target. Flames flickered over his entire body, but didn’t catch his clothes on fire. Each fireball he flung whooshed through the air and then burst on the metal target. Kieran called out to him, “Hey Bryce, meet Malcolm.”

Flames licked over him even as he reached out to shake hands. Malcolm jerked away, but Bryce just laughed, “Kinda twitchy, isn’t he?”

Malcolm backed off from him as Bryce went back to blasting the paint off the target. Blokes with flames coming out of their skin shouldn’t be practical jokers.

Aftershock - Excerpt

Chapter One

Jhaer dodged through the local fey crowding the market street of the village built up around the Seelie castle, thankful that his plain, loose-fitting clothing disguised him. Brightly colored streamers from the celebration draped from tree limbs and windows to flutter festively about the revelry. The ale flowed and the music played. Seelie fey of every race danced and sang ancient victory songs, obliviously ignorant that in conquering the Unseelie, they ensured the downfall of all fey.

Stealth carried Jhaer as far as the courtyard wall and then he unsheathed his fury and magic. With a rage that rent a boulder from the ground, Jhaer’s magic burst forth. His power over the element of earth belonged to him alone, so the boulder that splintered the teak courtyard gate with the explosion of cannon fire announced with certainty the Unseelie Elite who wielded it.

Anticipating a final assault while the captive Unseelie monarchs imprisoned within succumbed to the pressure to surrender their authority, the Seelie forces lined the top of the inner castle wall beyond the courtyard. Archers drew back at the sight of him, even as the Seelie Champion on the parapet called out to Jhaer. The corona of sun magic flared around Lugh, as if determined to prove his nickname as the Shining One. The golden boy of the Seelie Court in his sculpted armor vaulted down into the courtyard with a dramatic flair. If the demonstration of grace and courage aimed to impress, it missed the mark with Jhaer.

“Lugh! Have you been staring at your own magic so long you've blinded yourself?” Jhaer rushed into the courtyard. As the archers launched their first volley, Jhaer summoned a shield of stone from the very ground before him. The rock wall preceded him, the last couple feet at the top tilted back over his head, in case any clever archers aimed with a high trajectory. After the arrows in the initial strike splintered on his shield, Jhaer jerked up his hands, his magic heaving skyward the ground in front of the castle wall to block off the archers. His personal rock shield fragmented into dust that defused to the ground he’d drawn it from. He snarled at Lugh, the sole obstacle between Jhaer and the castle proper. “This must stop! Before it’s too late!”

“One Court, Sidhe!” Lugh proclaimed. “We can be brothers, you know. This feud can end. It should end!” Yet the Seelie ignited a barrier of fire, disproving his claim of brotherly love.

Jhaer shielded his face against the fire between them, an all too familiar tactic from the Sidhe with the magical aspect of the sun. “Light and dark cannot merge. One will always consume the other. You know this! Yet the arrogant Seelie’s hunger for power would rather destroy everything than have balance!” With that, Jhaer sank into the ground, closing it up over him.

Moving swiftly through the earth in a self-contained cavern like an air bubble rising through a viscous liquid that parted the ground before him and resealed it behind him, Jhaer detoured beneath the flames. He felt the vibration from the footsteps of the Seelie above, rushing to pursue him.

An unexpected tremor charged though the earth and slammed into him, lancing a dread dead into his heart. The Unseelie warrior gripped his chest, breath stolen from him by a horrendous shift in the magic surrounding him. Stunned to the point of panic, Jhaer surfaced once more, the Seelie not but a few quick strides from him. Before a cry of dismay could escape his lips, a shockwave of magic knocked him off balance. A crack climbed up the outer wall like a growing vine, reaching ever higher.

“Trying to bring down the entire castle?” The Seelie snarled. “Danu is in there!”

Jhaer stumbled backward before catching himself, his eyes wide as he stared at the fractures creeping up the courtyard walls. “Would I knock myself off balance? Open your eyes, Lugh! Something is wrong!”

Thunder rumbled like a landslide and then the sky flickered. Or rather the magic that gave the ceiling of the Mounds the appearance of a sky. Both Sidhe warriors relinquished their aggression to witness the cascade of destruction rupturing the fabric of their world. Cracks like a spider’s web shattered the illusion until the great bowl of rock overhead became visible for the first time in as long as any Sidhe could remember.

Jhaer kept his balance better the next time the ground shifted, although the horror that stabbed through him threatened to drive him to his knees. The thunderous sounds of earth ripping from earth filled the cavern that housed the magical realm of the Mounds. As the ground above them shifted ominously, Jhaer’s hands snapped upward, fingers curled as if gripping something heavy. Trembling from the strain, his mastery over the earth alone supported the bowl of rock overhead.

“Lugh!” Jhaer growled through clenched teeth, “Help Danu! NOW! I can't… hold it up… much longer!” All his concentration, his strength, focused solely on preventing the Mounds, home to hundreds of thousands of fey, from catastrophic collapse, for as long as he could.

Differences postponed in the face of imminent demise, the Seelie raced toward the castle as Jhaer bore the weight of the world. With muscles trembling from the effort, Jhaer waited for the dread to dissipate, anticipating the Creatrix to reach out and fortify the Mounds. But what he felt was life, the connection to Danu, fading away. The All-Mother, she who bound the Mounds together for centuries, was disappearing. She was dying.

All hope shattered, leaving only fatalistic determination. Through raw force of will, Jhaer held aloft the vast cavern ceiling, allowing as many fey as possible the chance to escape, the stronger ones via teleportation, the lesser fey certainly crowding the portals that might whisk them to the surface. Alone, Jhaer balanced each rock, each clump of dirt. For miles. Sweat ran in rivulets down the strained muscles of his body. Holding. Binding. Unyielding. And yet fissures snaked through the cavern under the oppression of tons upon tons of earth overhead. Fissures Jhaer could not mend. Fissures that sheared as chunks broke free and rained from the sky. Chunks that slipped through his shattering strength. Jhaer dropped to his knees, giving all his power to the failing magic. The edges of the cavern crumbled, creating a cascade as each lost rock freed those above it. Rockslides like waterfalls poured down in a roaring that could not completely annihilate the screams of terror. Down the ceiling fell in ever greater pieces until the entire cavern plummeted down like a mountain to entomb everything beneath, burying alive everyone who had not already escaped. Including Jhaer.

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Find out more about the Rise of the Unseelie urban fantasy series.

Eyes of Magic: Rise of the Unseelie #3

 He's defective. Damaged. Malcolm knows he is. How could he not be, after a year of torture in the belly of a goblins' nest? The only magic he can do is the Touch, a perverted magic he despises and learned at the end of a whip. Every one else in the Glamour Club has loads of magic, but not him. He doesn't fit it. But if he can't find his magic, and his place among the Sidhe, then where could he go? And what if those that enslaved him before came after him again?

Coming Soon!