The Ghost's Crusade

Author's Notes

Here ends Book I of The Great Pandemonium. Book II, tentatively titled Shadowmakers, is in the works and will begin weekly updates in August. Until then I'll be posting Tiernan's origin story, The Father's Son, starting at the end of June.

Here's an excerpt, and thanks everyone for reading and voting!

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Weeks had gone by and the rains had come in even heavier than in years past. The only ones foolish enough to go mucking about in it were the Whiteshire nobles, who, as was customary, descended upon the tavern in Edelglen the day after the skies had darkened with storm clouds. They had erected a tally board in the tavern of what they had captured despite the horrid conditions and swapped stories every night of the harrowing rains, mudslides, and surging rivers in the forests they had to deal with on their hunts. They showed off their scratches and bruises as though they were mortal wounds and lamented not having enough pretty barmaids to gaze upon at the end of the day following their awful trials.

Tiernan would have gone to listen, since he loved stories even though he knew everything that came out of a nobleman's mouth was nine part fairy and only one part tale. But his mother had decided that he was not presentable enough to be seen by the aristocracy. She had given him two choices: help her salt the trout his father and uncle brought in from the nearby river, or bathe, let her cut his hair, and venture to the tavern in the company of his sister to listen to the nobles recite their tales.

The boy had been salting fish for days and ached to get out and do something other than sit at a table with a scaling pick. A bath was one thing, but he absolutely refused to cut his hair. He had been trying for years to grow enough hair to have a braid as long as his father's but his mother always thwarted him in one way or another and had cropped it short by summer. Neatly cut hair and eventually a shaven face, she always said, was how her son would present himself to the world, and despite all the love she had for her husband, their children were not going to look like ungroomed wilders.

And showing up to a man's gathering with his sister? That was an insult to his dignity. He didn't need a girl to hold his hand like some baby. After all, he was going to be ten soon.

As he dropped the last scaled fish into the salt tray Brianna announced her arrival by letting loose a flustered groan in the doorway. "Tier, where's father? One of those stupid nobles missed and put an arrow through the haunch of a horse. Again."

"What do you care about their horses?" Tiernen grinned mischievously. "Did Peter talk you in to helping him in exchange for a kiss?"

"What-of course not!" Brianna's face reddened to a shade brighter than her hair, making her freckles stand out even more sharply on her normally pale skin. "Mother! Tiernan's teasing me again!"

"I was not!" countered the boy at the top of his lungs. "Brianna's lying about me again, Mother! She's going to be holy smited!"

Saorse came up from the cellar in the kitchen floor and slid the planks back over the opening. "Hush, Tiernan. Junan will not smite Brianna for helping Peter with the horses." She gave her daughter a pointed look. "Unless..."

Her daughter threw her hands up in the air. "Mother! Must you? In front of Tiernan?"

The boy smiled in triumph and hopped down from his stool. He stuck his tongue out at Brianna and then took off at breakneck pace for the back door, knowing full well that if she got hold of him before he got out of the house and into the woods she would put him in a headlock until their father came home. Their mother, accustomed to their constant rivalry, would simply make sure that his sister didn't strangle him to death between now and then. Despite her devout faith she generally didn't interfere with either of them if things came to blows, since she thought they both deserved what they received for constantly picking on each other.

The taller he grew the harder it was becoming for her to wrangle him, but Brianna was nothing if not resourceful. Half the time Tiernan was surprised that she hadn't yet rigged a tripwire to the back stoop to catch his feet as he fled like a boar herded through the brier.

And suddenly there it was.

A length of rope strung up between the door frame sprang taught just as he crossed the threshold. Tiernan tried jumping but his clumsy too-large feet refused to move quickly enough. He caught his toe on the rope and flew face-first into the waterlogged sod outside. Luckily he closed his mouth before he swallowed the mud as well.

Tiernan rolled over and sat up on his rear in the muddy grass. Giggling in victory, Brianna sauntered proudly to the back door and planted her hands on her hips. "Ser Brianna the Just has finally captured the big-footed Brennan heathen! Today shall be a holy day and we shall feast in my honor! Huzzah!"

Saorse peered over her daughter's shoulder and shook her head at the scene outside her door. She prodded the girl in the back of the shoulder with one finger and said in a warning tone, "Don't tease your brother about his height, Brianna, or I'll teach him to tease you about being flat-chested."

Again Brianna's face flushed red. "MOTHER!"

The woman chuckled and patted her daughter on the shoulder. "Go help him get cleaned up. I'll get the poultices for the horses and then you both can take them to Peter's father."

Glaring briefly at her brother, she stomped off into the house and returned moments later with an armful of dry towels. She stalked out into the yard and held out her hand. "Get up, Tier." She lowered her voice into a conspiratorial tone. "I'll drop you off at the tavern."

He accepted his sister's hand up. "Mother says I can't go unless I cut my hair."

"Mother won't know," said Brianna with a sly wink, wiping his face free of the mud clumps with her bare hands. Once she decided she had gotten as much as she could off she lead him over to the water pump to finish washing the rest away. "So long as you come back out when I'm done taking the poultices to the stables."

Tiernan eyed her suspiciously. His sister was never this nice. "You just want to be alone with Peter."

The young woman shot him a narrow-eyed glare and dropped a towel over his head. "You want to hear those fools wax eloquent about their bumbling adventures or not?"

He paused to consider how terrible the wraith of their mother would be if she caught him at the tavern. It would be terrible indeed... but he still wanted to hear them tell their stories.

"Okay, let's go!"