Triad
Sisters
of the Storm Book 1
by
Guy Estes
Genre:
Epic Fantasy, Adventure
It's
one thing to be gifted by the gods. It's another thing entirely to
figure out how to use that gift.
Three
of them are born at once. Some say they are gifted - Chosen - by the
gods. Others say they are so aberrant even the gods cannot stop them
from existing. Three of them living at once is unprecedented... and
dreaded.
Aleena
is a gifted warrior who only wants the world to leave her alone.
Anlon is an equally gifted warrior who wants the world under his
boot. Baezha is a gifted witch whose intentions are unknown, even to
her. Both Aleena and Anlon are skilled, proud and jealous. Their
rivalry is inevitable, yet Aleena knows Anlon is a brother in
addition to a rival. Jealousy, mercy, forgiveness and vengeance
threaten to consume all she loves.
Yet
what of the third Chosen, Baezha, a powerful sorceress quietly
watching the other two? And will the gathering of this triad result
in balancing the equation into order or unbalancing it into further
madness?
Reckoning
Sisters
of the Storm Book 2
She
won’t hesitate to take on any demon from any of the seven hells,
but none of them are as terrifying as the ones in her own
mind.
Baezha
Ambrose is a gifted sorceress. Aleena Kurrin, her adoptive sister, is
a gifted warrior. Together they have faced countless foes, but now
Baezha must face what she fears the most – her past. She’d fled
her home town of Oleppo after her world ended in fire and blood and
left her crippled with guilt. In the years since, the forces that
destroyed her world have taken over Oleppo and grown stronger. Now
she must return to Oleppo to sort things out.
The
Watchers is a secret society of religious zealots fanatically devoted
to the extinction of magic. Baezha’s extraordinary talent with
magic makes her their most hated enemy, and they bring all of their
obsessive fanaticism to bear on her. The Order of Entropy is a
faction of sorcerers dedicated to destructive magic. They see Baezha
as an intolerably dangerous rival, and they know precisely how to
hurt her. They know her sordid past better than Baezha
herself.
Crippled
by guilt and fighting a two front war in a city that has made her
very existence a crime, Baezha will need all the help she can get.
She has but one ally, her sister Chosen, Aleena, who is as powerful
in war as Baezha is in magic. With Aleena’s help, Baezha shall
bring a reckoning to the evil that destroyed all she loved. Or that
evil will have its final victory over her.
Though
listed as book 2 of the series, this is a stand alone novel.
The
Eighth Hell
Sisters
of the Storm Book 3
The
most dangerous women in the world dare the most dangerous place in
the world.
The
Shingora, a place known and dreaded by all, the name driving those
who hear it to mutter prayers and make signs for protection. None who
have gone to that island ever came back… until now.
The
trade guilds sent an expedition there, hoping to find a wellspring of
natural resources. Only one man returned, his experience having
reduced him to gibbering madness. Now the guilds are sending a new
expedition, three hundred strong and armed for war, to learn the fate
of the previous one and rescue the survivors… if there are
any.
Joining
them are the Chosen sisters: Aleena Kurrin, the Battle Queen, gifted
by the gods in war, and Baezha Ambrose, the Witch Queen, gifted by
the gods in magic. Sworn to recover any survivors, they are joined by
a host of new friends and brave an island teeming with bizarre
creatures. And on the Shingora, everything kills.
Yet
an even darker discovery awaits them in the Shingora’s depths, an
unnatural horror far worse than anything the island’s sinister
reputation ever hinted at. And while immersed in all the island’s
perils, a traitor threatens the company from within. With treacherous
enemies at their backs and engulfed by a horde of abominations, the
sisters will be tested as they’ve never been tested before… and
even those Chosen by the gods have their breaking point.
Though
listed as book 3 in a series, this is a stand-alone novel.
Lords
of Illusion
Sisters
of the Storm Book 4
The
Shrouded Masks, a sect of assassins feared above all others because
they have a unique advantage – they’re doppelgangers, giving them
perfect disguises. Everyone thought they were exterminated decades
ago. Everyone was wrong.
They
have returned from the brink of extinction seeking vengeance against
those who sent them there – the royal family of Bukahr. To protect
themselves from assassins who can take the forms of their most
trusted people, the royals hire two who are not easily impersonated,
the Death Queens – Aleena Kurrin, gifted warrior, and her adoptive
sister, Baezha Ambrose, gifted sorceress. But things aren’t as
simple as they first appear.
The
masks the royals present to their adoring public are much prettier
than the faces that wear them. For them, appearances trump
everything, including Aleena’s strategic advice, making a difficult
job even more difficult, and Baezha is sure they are keeping secrets
that could prove vital. As Aleena learns about their adversaries, she
discovers the relationship between the royals and the assassins may
not be as simple as the king said, and she suspects the assassins
want something more than blood vengeance, something worse than
murder.
Add
a secretive king, a haughty queen, a scheming princess, an arrogant
prince, and a hostile guard captain to shapeshifting assassins and
the sisters are once more tasked with the impossible. And if Aleena
is right, the Shrouded Masks intend something far worse than their
deaths.
Though
listed as Book 4 in a series, this is a stand-alone novel.
The
God Makers
Sisters
of the Storm Book 5
The
problem with trying to trap the Death Queens is you run the risk of
succeeding.
Over
a year ago, Aleena Kurrin, divinely gifted warrior, and her adoptive
sister, Baezha Ambrose, divinely gifted sorceress, faced the
unnatural monsters of the Shingora – the Eighth Hell. The sisters
triumphed, but their victory felt hollow, their souls scarred by
guilt – though they saved many people, they failed others,
something for which they cannot forgive themselves. Making things
worse is the fact that the mysterious alchemists responsible for
creating those monsters remain unknown… or do they?
A
group of alchemists calling themselves the God Makers has set up shop
just outside the alchemists’ guild’s jurisdiction, and they sound
exactly like those who created the abominations on the Shingora.
Haunted by their failures on the Shingora, the sisters must know for
certain if the God Makers are who they fear, and if so, put them out
of business. Permanently.
But
when they get to the God Makers’ lair, they discover their fears
fell short of reality. The God Makers’ master, Arleth, means to
show the world just what they’re capable of, threatening a city and
the sisters’ loved ones in the process. And the sisters would make
an invaluable addition to his ranks… whether they want to or
not.
To
save their loved ones and a city of innocent people, the sisters
chosen by the gods challenge those who would create gods, all while
trying to accomplish the most difficult task of all – forgiving
themselves.
Though
based on the events in Book 3, this is a stand-alone novel and can be
read without first reading the others.
TRIAD
“I saw two girls, a blonde and a brunette, and a blond boy. They would grow up to possess the extraordinary beauty and talent that could only belong to the Chosen. Two would be warriors and one a sorcerer. One would be taken. One would be exiled. One would be driven mad. I could see no more than that.”
“Those who are Chosen are chosen by the gods?”
“That is one belief. However, being one of them you need to know everything. Some whisper that the Chosen are not blessed by Tamura and Donya at all, but that they are creatures of evil. The extraordinary skill of the Chosen, they believe, simply isn’t natural. In addition to uncanny skill, the Chosen are remarkably beautiful and have eternal youth. Even if you live to be a hundred you will never look a day older than thirty. Moreover, your beauty will be immune to destruction. Scars will completely fade. Some people see the combination of eternal beauty with unnatural skill as proof that the Chosen are demonic. They believe that, rather than sending the Chosen, the gods protect humanity from them by making them rare, as if they were such an aberration that even the gods couldn’t always stop them from being born.”
“So which one are they?”
“That, I believe, is entirely up to the individual Chosen.”
“And I will have to face all of this?”
“Yes,” Rita nodded, “but fear not, Aleena. The gods do not give us tests we cannot pass. What does it mean to be Chosen? That, my child, is a question you will spend your whole life answering. And we will help you as best we are able.”
“And a fair number of them feel I’m the Death Breeder herself.”
“I do not think they are so numerous.”
“What they lack in numbers they compensate for in volume.”
“Yes, I know. But we also know why they speak such. Envy possesses their tongues.”
“As does fear. Let’s not fool ourselves, Mistress. They have always feared me to a slight degree. Now they’re terrified of me.”
“A few speak ill of you, but most praise you. Think how Constance feels about you. Think how grateful her family is to you for keeping their daughter safe. Aleena, has it occurred to you that you did exactly what the gods fashioned you for? Yes, you brought death and destruction to eight of your fellow men, but in doing so you gave life to all who would have been their victims. No one else there last night could have done that as well as you. By destroying some lives, you saved untold others. Destruction enabled preservation. You are a warrior, with all the warrior’s instincts and skills, yet you have no desire to conquer or dominate. Doesn’t that seem odd? Perhaps, instead of a conqueror, the gods meant for you to be a guardian.”
The slavers brought a child out. The little girl had seen perhaps six summers. Lorn had acquired her shortly after they entered the city.
"Come here, little darling," a slaver breathed. "It's time you learned what your master will expect of you."
The slavers' revelry came to a smashing halt when they heard a high-pitched alien shriek that froze the very marrow of their bones. The slave traders whirled at the terrible sound, confused and scared, one of them fainting dead away. This blonde girl, who had been so complacent and cooperative the entire time they'd possessed her had, suddenly and without the slightest warning, exploded into some elemental force that was whirling six paces of iron chain in a figure eight pattern as if it were nothing more than a hemp rope.
Aleena heard the dragon coming, making her heart fling itself against her breastbone even harder than it had been. The air in her hole was disturbed by its sniffing. It stirred her honeyed tresses and tugged at her billowy, formerly white shirt. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath in an effort to relax. Her plan required that her anticipation of the dragon’s actions be perfectly accurate. If she guessed wrong, if the dragon did anything even slightly unexpected, she would die. She had no contingency plan. There had only been time to devise this desperate ploy.
The scene of the desert valley outside her hole was abruptly replaced with one of rust brown scales as the dragon’s snout came into view. The creature’s entire head was about eighteen hands long, which equaled Aleena’s height. She continued her efforts at calming herself. The snout tempted her warrior’s aggression, but there were no vital organs or blood vessels in it. Even if she pierced the tough scales, she would only anger the beast.
Wait a bit longer. Then a far better target will present itself. I hope.
She heard the brute rumble with what could only be described as satisfaction as the lips, snaggled teeth and all, curled into a hideously human smile. Then a great glaring yellow thing was but a single pace from her hole. The yellow thing had a black center. Aleena contemplated her reflection in the dragon’s triumphant glare.
The young witch emerged from her trance, her brow slightly furrowed. She’d had another vision of Anlon some time ago, but now she suddenly had one of this girl. In her visions of the girl, the name Aleena Kurrin bobbed to the surface of the witch’s perceptions. The witch knew Aleena was Chosen the instant she saw her. Aside from being Chosen, how were Anlon, Aleena and the witch connected? Where was this all going? The witch knew there was a destination, but what was it? Unlike Anlon, Aleena did not chill the witch’s soul. Indeed, she left the witch feeling somewhat relieved.
Easy, she cautioned herself. Remember what happened the last time you allowed yourself to hope.
She sighed, feeling like a young eagle standing at the edge of the nest, staring out into the vast space that awaited her, her wings young and strong, but untried.
You know this impasse cannot stand.
Even though the ancients said multiple Chosen were certain doom, the witch resolved to undertake further divination to solve this riddle. Wherever this was going, whatever was to happen, she was a part of it. She needed to know.
Aleena saw the man in the cage directly across from her and noticed that he looked more like some abomination nature never intended to exist than he did a man. His arms reached his knees. His face now had a muzzle where his mouth and nose were, and only about half of his skin was visible due to the long hair that was sprouting from his body. And he had been receiving the same treatments that Aleena had. With the impact of a lightning bolt, Aleena’s mind cleared and she suddenly realized the purpose for the entire program she was being subjected to. They were going to make their profit off of her. They were going to make her fight, even if they had to turn her into a beast to do it.
Another set of gates opened, and Anlon strode into the arena like a lion striding amongst his lionesses. He seemed to almost float above the ground as he fed off the praises of the audience. His armor was similar to Aleena's, and he carried his favorite weapon; a longsword. After gracing the crowd with his smile and salute, he strode towards Aleena, his stride eloquent in its statement of purpose, his face a stranger to mercy. His stare, hostile and relentless, seemed to lance down at her from a great height, though Aleena was as tall as he was. She sighed a third time as she saw just how difficult it would be for her to put her plan into effect. Anlon stopped a few paces away to commence the customary baiting between contestants.
"I called you sister," he said. "I opened myself to you, and in return you have brought us to destruction."
"It doesn't have to be. We fought together, Anlon, side by side. You and I. Brother and sister. Chosen and Chosen. Is this the way you want to end it?"
"You leave me little choice."
"I have given you every choice, Anlon! I told you how these games work so that you would be able to choose. Which do you value more? My love, or theirs?" She finished by gesturing to the crowd with her head.
"No! You're trying to muddy the waters! You were jealous! You were jealous when they praised me over you and you started spewing your venom. Marcus told me. He was honest enough to tell me about my own sister. He told me how they turned you into some sort of beast. He told me how my own sister planned to kill me in the arena and use that victory to bargain for her freedom."
Aleena’s mouth dropped open. "What in the seven hells are you talking about? I told Marcus no such thing. No such thought ever entered my head.”
“Liar!”
“Anlon, why would I be so foolish as to tell my captor my escape plan?”
"Do you see how you twist things around to serve you? Finally, after all these years, I have my chance at achieving greatness, while you are chained to this stadium and your cell and your twisted philosophies. You could not bear to watch me win my deserved fame and your mind cracked. You are so desperate for escape you are willing to kill your own brother to achieve it, for once you kill me who will be left to fight? Once you’ve slain the best you think Marcus will have no choice but to release you. You destroy your rival and achieve fame and freedom all at once."
“Rival?”
“Don’t deny it, Sister.” He spoke the word in a scornful hiss. “I know damn well you saw me as a rival because I saw you as the same.”
“Part of me did,” she acknowledged, “but most of me saw you as a brother.”
“No,” Anlon insisted, shaking his head. “Marcus explained everything. He told me how those sorcerers brought out your bestial nature. You are nothing but a scheming hussy who will do anything, use anyone to get what you want.”
"You’re going to take Marcus’s word over mine? The word of a man in the flesh trade means more to you than the word of your sister?”
"Enough of your babbling! I know damn well what I believe and deserve, and I'll have it even if -"
"Even if you have to slay your sister? What prize could possibly be worth that?"
Anlon looked at her, his mouth agape. Then he closed it and moved towards her, his sword starting to whirl.
"Then you've made your decision, Brother? Marcus’s word is more valuable than mine? The crowd's adoration is worth more than the love of your only sister, the only one capable of understanding you? You wish to be alone with the hostile monkeys?"
Her words made him pause, and his eyes left her face as he absorbed what she'd said. Lightning flashed, followed by the slow roll of thunder.
In her dream, the witch saw Anlon striding forward, an army at his back. Between Anlon and the witch stood Aleena. They were surrounded by a dark, grey wasteland. The witch had had this dream before, and it had left her feeling anxious, torn between what she knew she must do and what she feared. But in her visions she’d seen Aleena and Anlon in the arena. She’d seen their last battle. That knowledge drove the fear from her heart and replaced it with the calm certainty of one who not only knew what she must do, but who had resolved to do it. The young eagle no longer feared the void she was about to spring into. Now she welcomed it.
Aleena, the beautiful light bringer, stood alone against her foe. The witch began walking towards her. Aleena turned and looked at her, her face undecided between hope and fear. The witch looked straight at her and made her a promise.
“I am coming.”
"This," Anlon told her, "is but a prelude to what lies ahead, Sister dear. My sword and armor are every bit as powerful as yours, as is my talent. You did hold the upper score in our little game, but once again we are tied. The final battle should be most interesting."
“After all this time,” Brona went on, “I still cannot hold my head up high. Even after I poisoned Auron and cleared the way for you, you lacked the gumption to take what was yours. You just stood there and let Cahir take your place on the throne. Cahir was never defeated by his inferiors. Cahir would never have –“
Anlon's golden blade swept up, and Brona's headless body fell. He snatched her head off the floor and held its face above to his.
“Are you proud of me now!” he roared at her. “Am I not worthy of your praise! Am I not loved! Am I not a worthy son! Is your godsdamned head held up high enough now!”
He sobbed as he threw her head to the floor. Then he turned his gaze, red and glassy from tears, onto Aleena. A blinding flash of lightening jolted the amphitheater, to be followed by a mighty peal of thunder.
"Now, Sister,” he hissed, “I shall finally have peace. I’ve rid myself of her contempt. Now I’ll rid myself of yours.”
Aleena sighed and shook her head. Then she drew Firethorne and slung the sheath as she started towards him.
"Well, then I suppose that's fine with me! I tried to help you, I spared your life when you had no intention of sparing mine, and you have somehow found a way to be insulted by this. You complain about the hostile monkeys, yet instead of rising above them you’ve become their king. So, by Nevawn’s claws, if that is how you want it, so shall it be!"
Aleena had gained the floor and was striding towards him. Lightning flashed and thunder boomed.
"So shall it be!"
Hail and well met to you all! My name is Guy Estes and I’m the creator of the Sisters of the Storm series of heroic fantasy novels. The protagonists are Aleena Kurrin, gifted warrior, and Baezha Ambrose, gifted sorceress/warrior. Triad is the first book, and it’s Aleena’s story, though I introduce Baezha. Reckoning is Baezha’s story. The Eighth Hell and Lords of Illusion are straight-up sword and sorcery adventure. In The God Makers they have to face unresolved issues from The Eighth Hell, including forgiving themselves. Though a series, I make each story a stand-alone. One of my pet peeves is when I see a book that looks interesting, then I see it’s the fifth in a series and I have to read the other four to understand the one I’m interested in, so I make mine so that anyone can start the series with any book and understand what’s going on.
So where did the Sister of the Storm come from? Aleena and Baezha started out as Dungeons and Dragons characters I played back in high school (class of 1989). Aleena was a fighter while Baezha was a ranger. Both advanced to such a degree that there was no longer any point in playing them – they were all but guaranteed victory. So I started writing about them when I was about eighteen (I am now fifty, so that’s how long those girls have been living rent-free in my head). My mother is a writer, as well, and I’m currently helping her get her book ready for publishing on Kindle. She writes Hallmark Channel-type stories, and she published a biography on Bass Reeves, one of the first African-Americans to serve as a deputy U.S. Marshal, some years ago. I saw her write – along with its attending frustrations – and decided to write about my characters in the D&D world; the game was no longer fun for me, but those two characters just wouldn’t leave my head.
Then I started thinking about publishing and I realized the D&D world was the property of TSR, so unless I wanted to limit my publishing options to Dragonlance or Forgotten Realms, I’d have to create my own world, which I did. I also made Baezha a sorceress with fighting skills as opposed to a ranger. I then spent the next couple of decades getting rejected by every publisher in the genre. Then all the advice said to get an agent, so I then spent the next few years getting rejected by a long list of agents, but through it all I kept polishing my stories. I just couldn’t give it up. It’s a compulsion, or obsession. Or both. Probably some sort of mental illness the medical profession hasn’t identified yet. But then Amazon made self-publishing a breeze, and here we are.
Of course, the looming issue with self-publishing is quality control. I run all of my novels through editing programs like Autocrit. Then I have them professionally edited. The only one I didn’t have professionally edited was Reckoning, and it shows. There are a number of typos and formatting errors. If you shop around, you can find editors for reasonable prices. For example, most of these novels are over 100K words. The editing service I use, Frostbite Publishing, charges .005 cents per word, so that would be $500. This is actually a pretty economical price. Most other places will charge $800 or more. If you care enough about your content and giving your readers your very best, this step is indispensable.
I have a professional artist, Paul Abrams, who I found on Devianart, do the images, and I put in the lettering via canva. Paul’s prices vary, but I think the most he ever charged me for a cover was $400. I’ve had people really love the covers, liking how they weren’t the photoshopped images so common to self-published novels (and how I put my girls in armor that actually protects their vitals). The cover is what gets the reader’s attention first, so this step is vital.
So to any aspiring self-publishers out there, these services are absolutely crucial. As for other writing advice? Well, take it all with a few grains of salt. For example, one of the most common pieces of advice you’ll find out there is “never use adverbs.” Recently I saw the same thing about exclamation points, and it’s absurd. Adverbs and exclamation points are standard parts of the English language. To be more accurate, both should be used sparingly. Sometimes, such as in the previous sentence, an adverb is what’s called for. The same goes for exclamation points. Another is you should only use “said” as dialogue tags. In other words, “he said.” Maybe “asked” once in a while, or “replied,” but that’s it. Again, I disagree. To wit:
“I could’ve defeated you any time I chose,” he said.
“Not on your best day,” she said.
As opposed to:
“I could’ve defeated you any time I chose,” he sneered.
“Not on your best day,” she shot back.
I think the second example paints a much more vivid picture in the reader’s mind. I could go on and on about writing advice, but really it’s sort of like how Captain Barbossa described the pirate’s code: “They’re more what you’d call guidelines than actual rules.”
As for what lies ahead, I’m writing the sixth installment of the Sisters of the Storm, as well as the first of a series starring a cast of neo-Pagans dealing with crime, the paranormal, and a bit of romance titled Clann na Morrigna that takes place in the fictional Colorado town of Nightshade.
Guy
Estes was born in Huntsville, Alabama in 1970 and grew up on his
family's ancestral sugar plantation in New Iberia, Louisiana, where
he currently resides with his wife and three children. His children
are the seventh generation of his family to grow up on the place,
which was occupied by Union troops during the Civil War. He has a
bachelor's degree in social studies education and a master's degree
in European history. His day job is an instructor at a small safety
consultation company. He taught public school for three years and, as
a result, no longer fears hell.
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