The Hand of the Gods has held all those who survived
the Battle of Grandfather Mountain. Now, another has
been born under the Fire of the Gods.
Fire of the Gods
The Sahra Chronicles Book 3
by Miriam Newman
Genre:
Historical Fantasy Romance
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Fire of the Gods
Omana – The Empiricum
The laughter of children echoed through the marble halls of the Empiricum, bringing a touch of life to its chilly formality. Walking the hallway with a rolled-up communiqué in his hand, the Emperator was greeted by the sight of a harried nursemaid attempting to control a pack of scattered youngsters streaming towards doors leading outside onto the grounds. One of them was his still-diapered son, waddling as fast as his legs would carry him behind the group of slightly older children.
“Whoa, hold on, who’s this, now?” he said, intercepting his progeny.
Dario grabbed onto his pants leg, looking up and babbling earnestly in his own private language the adults had not yet deciphered. Sergius had no doubt his son understood every word. It was only the mentally slower adults, like him, who couldn’t catch on.
“Is that so?” he asked the baby, smiling at the girl who ran quickly up behind Dario, momentarily abandoning the others in her fright that the Emperator’s son had escaped her, and right in his sight.
Sergius knew he cut an imposing figure, but he didn’t like scaring servants who ran his household, preferring to reserve his ire for more deserving figures.
“He’s fine,” he told the girl.
“Yes, Sir.”
Transferring his message to one hand, he bent and scooped up his son in the other, arm beneath him as he carried him down the hallway and towards the doors. The other children paid him no heed whatsoever, too young to understand their little friend’s father ruled half the world.
“Here you go,” he said to Dario as they reached the doors, lowering him to the ground. “That’s the end of your ride.”
He just winked at the girl, young and scared, and turned to resume making his way to the small meeting chamber off the entrance where he often met privately with Lord Alphonesi, head of the Empiricum. It was easier for the old, frail Lord to reach in his wheeled chair and Sergius preferred saving the man’s strength for affairs of state. He didn’t know how much longer he would have him and Alphonesi’s advice was invaluable, his influence crucial, especially today.
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I fell in love long ago with fantasy poetry driven by myths and legends, as well as stories of heroes and battles. Ancient Celtic writings were my special passion, along with the Roman Empire, Roman Britain, the Norman invasion of England, and tales of the Vikings. My first book emerged when I was an...ahem...youthful 52. Well, I’m not 52 any more and up to 34 books and it’s been a great run.
Retired from many years in social work, now I pass my days writing, researching and living with a pack of highly demanding rescue dogs. I write in every genre I please, usually with a good dose of romance, and you can see my books at www.miriamnewman.com.
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