Hope

By Sam Rook

Torn from Earth and thrown into a parallel fantasy world, Kathryn struggles to maintain her sanity and remain alive long enough to return home.

After a run-in with the local wildlife, she finds herself under the dubious protection of the Knighthood—winged humans with an innate sense of honor, but open hostility toward Earthlings. An unwelcome passenger in her mind drives her to join their ranks. She discovers their angry commander is far from welcoming.

Sir Lanclor, Commander of the Knighthood, lives with the curse of betrayal. While the treachery occurred lifetimes before, few see past his guarded shell to the grim man beneath. Barely holding the Knighthood together, his grip tightens with Kathryn's arrival. Her stubbornness and surprising strength energizes the Knighthood and makes Sir Lanclor question his self-imposed isolation.

With the approach of an invading army, Kathryn and Sir Lanclor must find a way to end centuries of war and save two worlds.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sam Rook
• Release date: Jun 8, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301842018

Sam Rook

Sam Rook lives in Vermont with her husband and two children. Her passion for fantasy novels began in high school with her desire to write following shortly thereafter. Software engineer by day, fantasy author by night, she strives to give her readers a chance to enjoy worlds that transport them away from the stress of everyday life.

Book preview

Chapter 2

The beast, taller than the doorway, filled half of the room. A second one filled the other half. Their eyes were a bright orange in the pits of their grotesque faces. Bat-like wings flowed out behind their black angled bodies. Their leathery hide, cracked in places, failed to contain the thick green liquid that moved beneath its surface. Double-jointed legs ended in large claws and long horns protruded from their heads. They had to be demons from this insane nightmare of a horror movie.

Her frantic kicks had no effect and only made the creature’s nails dig deeper into her flesh. Its pointed teeth and hot breath lingered over her. She gagged at the smell of death as the beast pulled her closer to its mouth. Oddly detached, she noted the orange shade of its mouth matched its eyes, and then her head cleared.

"F'enk'e'alath shel'an're!" Kathryn heard herself speak.

She fell to the floor as fire ripped through the bodies of the creatures. Their agonized screams pierced her mind and she covered her ears. Scrambling into the closet, she cowered in the corner. The creatures thrashed upon the floor, their long tails crashing into her desk and the walls. Her pictures crashed to the floor and Kathryn closed her eyes at the destruction. She wept as the smell of burning meat permeated the air and the sound of the creatures’ thrashing ceased.

Kathryn crept from the relative safety of the closet. The charred bodies of the creatures atop the blackened floor took up the entire room. Wrinkling her nose, she stepped in the open areas between their limbs and made her way to the study door. Once there, she turned and took one last look at the destruction, and then vomited onto the floor.

Holding her hand over her mouth and nose in an attempt not to gag over the new combination of smells, she turned away from the scene. The feeling of the creatures’ claws on her skin made her shudder and she started sobbing, sliding down against the doorjamb and holding her knees to her chest. An uncontrollable shaking seized her body and she breathed in short gasps, but a part of her remained aloof.

A little less fire next time.

Several minutes later, she crawled into the kitchen and leaned against the counter. Closing her eyes, she breathed through her mouth and attempted to calm down. The heat sucked the moisture from her mouth, but that was better than dealing with the smell. She had to get out of here. There could be more of those creatures and a house in the middle of a desert screamed buffet.

She scrambled up and grabbed her backpack from the corner. Unzipping all of its pockets, she turned it upside down and shook it. Her laptop hit the floor amidst the floating papers outlining the programming code. She couldn’t care less if the users crashed the system with ten keystrokes; she just wanted the damn bag.

Bag in hand, she threw open the refrigerator door and shoved six bottles of water into the pack. She abandoned the fridge and searched through her cabinets. Her pathetic store of peanut butter and Doritos wouldn’t get her very far. Setting the bag upon the counter, she threw in a half loaf of wheat bread and a butter knife before zipping the largest pocket.

I should just leave them. I can survive without them. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and blowing it out through pursed lips. Damnit. She pushed away from the counter and marched to the study.

She waded through the charred corpses, grabbed the pictures, minus their broken frames, and retreated to the kitchen. Sitting on the stool, she expected the mirror image in the first photo to reflect her frown, but her mother’s smile lit up the slate-gray eyes framed by mousy hair. She couldn’t bring herself to look at the other photos, so shoved them and Ella into the front pocket of the backpack before shouldering it.

What else? Food, water…the gun! Back amidst the bodies, she struggled to find an even spot for the computer chair in front of the closet. Groaning in frustration, she gripped the back of the chair with white knuckles that ached from endless typing. The sunlight shone upon the blue flowers and Kathryn reached out to rub the delicate weave of the shawl hanging in the closet.

Kathryn had never worn the black shawl with blue roses. She remembered her forced smile when she thanked her mother for the Christmas gift and Rachel’s incessant What is it? Before the tears could flow, a thump outside drew her toward the window. A green sedan with blue lights upon its roof sat behind her car with its door wide open and its passenger lying upon the ground. Beyond the car, a group of black figures flew toward the house.

Kathryn raced from the study, shoving the shawl into the backpack while she slid through an opening in the living room wall. Shouldering the backpack as she ran, she slid to a crouch next to the body of the Vermont State Trooper.

Wake up, goddamnit, wake up! His familiar brown hair and glasses made her pull back. Sergeant Summers? Kathryn clenched her jaw in mixed relief and disappointment. She was so glad someone had come, but wished it were anyone else but him. Images flashed in her mind of his stoic face as he explained her mother's death and her daughter's disappearance. What were the odds? This had to be a dream.

Sergeant Summers’ dark brown eyes fluttered open and Kathryn pulled at his jacket.

Get up! They’re coming and we have to get out of here!

Kathryn? Wh-what are you talking about? He rubbed the back of his head as he sat up.

The creatures were a short distance away and they didn’t have much time. We need to get the hell out of here. She pointed and his head swiveled to follow her arm.

What are those things?

He hurried to his feet and she rose with him. Together, they ran toward the house, but the shadows preceding their escape told her it was too late. Creatures landed in front of them and trying to stop, Kathryn caught herself with her wrists after her feet slid out from under her. Sergeant Summers dropped to a knee, sliding to a stop as he pulled his gun from its holster.

Shots rang out but the bullets didn’t seem to do anything but anger the bastards. Kathryn looked all around them as the targeted creatures growled their annoyance and approached them. Sergeant Summers’ hands shook and he spun around, firing off a few more shots at the ones behind them. Those growled as well and quickened their pace.

Stop pissing them off! Kathryn glared at him, hoping for the words to come to her again. The creatures leapt at them and screams tore from her throat as they fought with each other to get a grip on her. Their talons and teeth sliced her arms and legs in the intervals they weren’t fighting with one another. She kicked and struggled, trying to squeeze through their legs to safety. One of them grabbed her and only then did her damn head clear.

"F'enk'e'alath shel'an're!"

Gripping the forearms of the creature that held her, she saw the fire engulfing her hands shoot through the creature’s body, then spread to the surrounding creatures as well. Their inhuman screams ripped through the air and she broke free to crawl to a small space safe from the thrashing bodies. The fire still engulfed her hands and she rubbed them in the sand, trying to douse the flames. Her tears hissed as they landed upon her wrists. She moaned, staring at her hands and cringing at the soot of the creatures’ burning bodies clinging to the rest of her skin.

Smoke filled the sky and the occasional popping of the fires replaced the screams and thrashing of the creatures. Sergeant Summers, blood streaming from his forehead and arms, sidestepped toward her while moving his gun from one blackened form to another. She held her burning hands before her in a plea for help. He startled, pointed his gun at her with a shaking hand and pulled the trigger.

Fire stabbed through Kathryn’s chest and she fell backward. She cried out and her now-extinguished hands clutched the wound just below her right shoulder. It felt like a bomb went off inside her chest and she felt her right lung begin to squeeze. Her agonizing and short breaths didn’t mask Sergeant Summers’ panicked words.

Oh my God, Kathryn, I didn’t realize it was you.

He leaned over her, the whites of his eyes a stark contrast to the soot and blood on his face. He pressed his hands against her wound and she tried to sink into the sand to get away from the pain. Looking past him, she saw the swirling smoke clear and the dark forms flying above them. They reminded her of vultures circling their next meal, except these vultures had wingspans the size of a small plane. Sergeant Summers followed her gaze. Panic reflected in his eyes, but he clenched his jaw and stayed with her.

By the agony of her wound and her labored breathing, Kathryn knew she wouldn’t survive. Maybe in the hands of a gifted surgeon, she’d have a chance, but not here. Not now. Ready to see Rachel, she gripped Sergeant Summers’ hands. Leave me.

What? He stopped pressing on her wound momentarily. No, I can’t leave you here. Not like this. The agony resumed as he made his decision.

Sand crunched with the sound of the new arrival. Kathryn glanced to her right and cried out as a black figure without horns moved toward them. It differed from the other creatures with feathered wings and a slimmer build. Sergeant Summers rose and drew his gun. The soot stirred up from his boots burned her eyes.

The newcomer drew a black sword lined with some type of silver writing that gleamed in the smoky air. Sergeant Summers had trouble keeping his gun from sliding around in his blood-slicked hands as the dark figure approached with incredible speed and used the hilt of the sword to crack him in the head. He sank to the ground with the figure grabbing his arm, easing him into the blackened sand.

Her breath came in short gasps and the fire started to dampen in her chest. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes into her ears. I’m coming, Rachel. Mom. The edge of her vision blurred with white framing the dark figure leaning over her. Calluses lined the human hands that settled against her forehead. The pain in her chest returned full-force and she started to struggle.

Someone caressed her mind, calming her flailing. She focused on his male—definitely male—essence and allowed herself to grab onto the thread of hope he dangled her way. The pain subsided and her breathing eased. He tried to withdraw, but she imagined gripping his arm. His surprise then sudden fear caught her off guard and she let go. With the sound of a familiar howl, she closed her eyes and gave into her exhaustion.

Chapter 3

Kathryn woke up facing a wall with her left shoulder and hip aching in protest. She sighed with relief. It was all a dream. A vivid and terrible dream. Rolling over, she sat up to survey her surroundings. Her feet brushed the stone floor as they hung off a high bed. A small nightstand held a flickering candle that threw the shadows of the sleeping form in the next bed against the far wall.

She looked down and pulled the scratchy gray shirt away from her chest. The smooth skin covering her chest showed no sign of the gunshot wound. Drawing a deep breath, she felt no pain. Definitely a dream. With the candle, that must mean the power had gone out. The stench of antiseptic filled the air and she wrinkled her nose at the familiar smell before turning to the occupied bed.

Squinting in disbelief, she covered her mouth with a shaking hand.

Sergeant Summers? Is that you? she whispered. His presence undermined her dream theory.

Yes. He rolled over and inched his way up to a sitting position, holding his head in his hands. Sighing, he looked up at her with hooded eyes in the candlelight, making him look much older than his late twenties. I’m so sorry. He snorted and ran his hand through his short hair. And it’s Hal. No point in being formal.

Kathryn didn’t know what she should say to that. She wasn’t about to tell him it was okay and not to worry about it. He should’ve protected her, not been even more scared than she was, but she knew fear could do unexpected things to people. Where do you think we are?

Honestly? Hell. The first round of monsters were demons and the round that showed up after were angels, and I don’t mean the little cherubs with the bows. These bastards were armored knights with swords and wings.

She couldn’t rule out hell, but she didn’t think she’d be healed if it were. For the first time in years, her hands didn’t ache, but she couldn’t say the same about her soul. The emptiness still gnawed at her and she wondered if her dad had called to check on her. He probably didn’t even know she was gone, sitting down to a frozen dinner he’d popped into the microwave and a cold Bud Light—more like a pack of Bud Lights. Of all the days for this to happen, today seemed appropriate. Hal, what are we going to do?

I don’t know. My head’s killing me. I’m going to lie back down. He thumped back upon his pillow and stared at the ceiling.

Happy birthday, Kathryn mumbled to herself.

Kathryn jumped up from the bed as footsteps echoed off the walls. A knight who was a little shorter than Hal and heavily built walked into the room. He had gray wings and dark green armor. Were his wings part of his armor or his body?

"Mecnth jeyurk thee?" The green knight waited for a reply. Kathryn just stared at him and shrugged. He sighed and waited.

Why are we in here? Kathryn asked.

The knight shook his head and crossed his arms. Another set of footsteps approached and the knight in black armor from the desert arrived to stand beside the first. The black knight seemed to fill the room even though he was only six inches taller than the first and slimmer around the waist. He had an authoritative air about him with a touch of anger. His black wings made him even taller. Definitely not a cherub.

My name is Sir Lanclor. Who are you?

Hal took the lead while Kathryn tried to wade through the accent. My name is Hal Summers and this is Kathryn Merlangton. Where are we? After a slight hesitation, he added, We’re from Earth.

Sir Lanclor nodded to the green knight. The green knight saluted with a fist over his heart and left. I figured you were with the house less than ten feet from where we found you. Sir Lanclor’s voice dripped disdain. You Earthlings keep showing up all over the place. The Goddess has a warped sense of humor.

Goddess?

Sir Lanclor crossed his arms, a casual gesture, but one Kathryn sensed was an insult. He took a deep breath before continuing. You have nothing to fear from us. I sent Sir Garrent to prepare suitable rooms. I will post a knight who speaks English outside your rooms for your safety. Until we know what kind of people you are, a knight will accompany you wherever you go. Sir Garrent will return shortly to escort you to your rooms. Be safe on Av’lor. Sir Lanclor turned and walked up the hall.

Av’lor? Where the hell is Av’lor? Hal said in a low voice.

I’ve never heard of it. Kathryn felt confused, but clenched her teeth with determination. If she waited long enough, she'd wake up and go back to her peaceful life. Panicking about their situation wouldn’t solve anything. They had no other choice but to obey. The knights had swords and Hal’s gun and her backpack were gone. Her pictures were gone. That thought terrified her the most.

This is where you’ll be staying, a knight named Thalcalor said with a sharp gesture of his hand. Sir Garrent and I will now take our leave. We'll have knights bring your meals to this sitting area. Nikton and Rielle will remain with you in case you have any questions. You are welcome to explore the grounds, but Nikton and Rielle will accompany you to help communicate with the other residents. We consider you guests at this time, but only knights access certain areas. Be safe. Sir Garrent and Thalcalor nodded and left.

Nikton, a slim knight in dark gray armor with gray wings, stood near the doorway to the left. Kathryn, your room is here, while Hal’s is to the right. I will remain in this sitting area while you get settled in. He plopped into a chair and withdrew some type of colored stones from a small bag.

Rielle appeared in the same shade of gray as Nikton. She had brown wings and slimmer armor. I also will remain in this sitting room. She sat next to Nikton and they sorted the stones, preparing for some type of game and ignoring them. Very welcoming.

The room consisted of a plain bed, a small unlit fireplace, and a glass door that opened onto a balcony. She could feel the chill of the bare stone floor through her sneakers. Kathryn turned and closed the door.

Several small piles of clothes sat on a low bench to the right of the door. To the left, a small tub with what looked like soap on a stand stood in the corner. A small shelf over the tub held a wooden bowl below a spout with a manual pump. A small toilet, more like a chamber pot with a seat, sat beside the tub. Clean water lined the chamber pot, but she saw no hole to handle the flushing. She wrinkled her nose in disgust and suppressed a groan at her increasing need to test it.

Not quite a Marriot.

A while later, after experimenting with the water pump and tub, Kathryn was clean and freshly garbed in scratchy clothes. There was a light knock on the door and she opened it to find Hal in similar garb and wet hair.

Hey. Feels nice to be clean, doesn’t it? He entered the room, closing the door behind him and lowering his voice. I tried getting answers out of Rielle and Nikton, but they just glared at me. I think we’re prisoners. I don’t see us leaving this place anytime soon. We’re stuck here.

That night, Kathryn shivered beneath her blankets and let her grief overtake her for the millionth time since the funeral. There weren’t any memories of happier times in the forefront of her mind or regrets of not doing this or that. She simply existed on the edge of a precipice where all of her loved ones were out of reach. Nobody comforted her or wrapped their little arms around her waist.

She muffled her sobs; afraid some stranger might hear and investigate. Going over the events of today, she found that the most troubling aspect was not the confusion, fear or pain, but her apathy when she lay close to death. The only light in her room came from the firelight seeping under the door from the common room, so her eyes widened in panic when the black ceiling changed to white and images overwhelmed her.

Kathryn floated high above the ground. The trees below her had odd bluish-green leaves with yellow tips that rustled in the light wind. A river flowed below to a large waterfall that cascaded over the cliffs and fell several hundred feet to a lake beneath. The soft swishing to her left drew her attention away from the ground to a group of about twenty knights flying in a diamond formation. Sir Lanclor led the group while Sir Garrent brought up the rear. A knight in the middle stood out with golden armor and wings among the dull grays and browns of the others.

The scene blurred and her perspective changed. She stood next to the waterfall on one of the cliffs looking up at the knights. As they passed, black shapes concealed in the trees flew up toward the rear of the knights. Her blood ran cold while she watched the knights fight a losing battle. The roar of the falls didn’t drown out the crunch of the blows and the shrieks of agony. The golden knight, soaked in blood, fell toward the lake below as her vision blurred to darkness.

Kathryn sat straight up in bed, gasping with confusion and dripping with sweat. She hadn’t fallen asleep yet, so how could she have dreamt that? Could she dream inside a dream? She still heard the sound of battle and the cries of pain as if she had been there. Bowing her head into her hands, she wept for the fallen knights, not understanding her darker grief as the intense scene replayed itself in her mind. She knew their deaths would mark the beginning of the end.

Chapter 4

Lanclor, Knight-Commander of the Knights of Av’lor, stood behind Mikael outside the door of a murderer’s farmhouse. Mikael had knocked upon the door some time ago and they waited underneath the misshapen overhang that did nothing to prevent the torrent of rain from reaching them. A single lantern flickered next to the door fighting to remain alight as the water seeped into a small crack along its side. The lantern revealed a wide-eyed militiaman as the door opened.

She's just through here, Guardsman Mikael.

Thank you, Royal Guardsman Mikael said as he motioned his men to remain outdoors. I’ll take it from here. He opened the door and entered the small farmhouse with Lanclor close behind.

Lanclor wrinkled his nose at the smell of blood. He was glad for his helmet. It wasn't professional for a knight to show any type of weakness. A single candle in the middle of a sturdy table provided the only light. Its flickering glow touched the woman sitting in a low chair with her hands clutched in her lap. She stared out the window into the black night heedless of the world around her. Her lips moved in a quiet conversation with herself.

Nalia, my name is Mikael. Can you tell me what happened? Mikael's voice erupted from the shadows.

She glanced at the Guardsman, and then turned back to the darkened window. She replied in a low voice filled with anguish. He wasn't himself. I don't know what was wrong with him. Why did this happen? If only I—

Please, tell me when you noticed something was wrong.

Mikael’s patient voice made Lanclor envious. They shouldn’t have to wring a story out of someone. He relished having his knights report to him without hesitation. No time wasted.

Lanclor tried to blend into the shadows, observing like Commander Warren had asked. He crossed his arms and fought the urge to flap the water from his wings. His size and personality made it difficult to go unnoticed. After leaving a mound of paperwork and plans for the trip to R’kelo unfinished, he was eager to complete this favor to the Royal Guard.

Oh, yes. I guess that would be last week. Hareld went into town to sell vegetables, as he does every week, only this time he didn't come back for days. I went to look for him and found him just standing in a field. No vegetables, his clothes soiled, and this blank look on his face. He didn't seem to recognize me at first, and then he seemed okay and let me lead him home.

Nalia shook her head and tears streamed from her eyes. I thought he had just caught a chill when he sat in his chair unmoving for a couple of days. Then, all of a sudden, he just jumped out of it and grabbed me. His eyes…his eyes were the worst. Black. Black as death. I struggled to get away and tripped him somehow. He fell hard and his head slammed the table. He didn't move after that. Hareld was always a gentle soul. I don't know what happened to him. She started wailing and Mikael comforted her until her weeping passed.

Lanclor remained silent trying to total the number of incidents in the past month. With this one and the one from last week, they had a total of ten Changed men. That was double the number from last month. Warren was right to ask him to come along. The Knighthood would have to get involved with the investigation.

Mikael and Lanclor left the farmhouse a few hours before dawn, heading back to the castle at the head of Mikael’s squad. Lanclor guided his horse around a deep puddle, ignoring his discomfort from the rain. He tried to piece together why people found in the middle of a field suddenly started killing with no warning.

These past few cycles held one damn thing after another. More frequent Daemon attacks, husbands killing their families, and now Earthlings, of all things. They hadn’t seen Earthlings on Av’lor for a while and now they were popping up in the middle of the Barrens, for the Goddess’ sake. The knights were spread thin enough as it was.

Mikael’s men remained quiet as they dismounted and headed to the Royal Guard barracks. It had been a long day of hard riding, dead bodies and grieving people. Lanclor knew Mikael

Reviews for Hope

[gunnargrey · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This is a full-length epic contemporary fantasy novel, with winged demons, winged knights (definitely not angels), telepathic horses, and weapons and armor that shape themselves to their owners. The plotline is solid — I enjoyed the read — but I kept wishing the world-building had been more solid, that there were more background details to keep me "grounded" in the author's universe. There just wasn't the overall flavor of immersion that truly satisfies the dedicated fantasy reader.However, my major issue with the book is a trick of the author's wordsmithing. She tends to omit certain important details until after the fact, and then spring the detail as a surprise for the reader. As an example, a character might be held at knifepoint, then fight free using a knife the reader knew nothing about. This is just off the top of my head, not a real example from the book, so no spoiler there. But several major plot twists were sprung using this "Gotcha!" technique, and I'm not a fan of it.I am a fan of the storytelling and the author's universe, even incomplete. There's a rough depth to the characters, a strength to the plotline, that will draw me back for future installments. Hope founds a fantasy world and is clearly intended as the basis for a series, with several questions remaining unanswered, invitingly so. Keep writing, Ms Rook.Please note that I received a free copy of this novel through the Library Thing Member Giveaway program. The price of the book never dictates the honesty of the review.

[australwind · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

At first dip into this story, I struggled to find myself engaged and wanting to read on. I'm glad I persevered with this as it evolved into a complex alternative world tale of good versus evil. There is as much revealed as there is hidden in this story as the author reveals little snippets of information to tease the reader - there's clearly a well developed back story of which she allows the reader just a peek here and there. Kathryn's abrupt transportation to an alternative world opens this story a trifle shakily....but it quickly settles into a tale of adaption, assimilation and conflict worthy of the reader's investment of time to learn about the new world of winged knights, strange beasts, daemons, telepathic horses and magic.Let's hope that Ms Rook fulfills her promise of more to come as this certainly left me wanting more. There's more than enough room for the development of characters such as Hal, Kathryn's unwilling accomplice on the journey to Av'lor, however I found the last minute reveal of Jenna's true identity a trifle disingenuous.(Any further comment would amount to a spoiler! )Reviewed as part of the LibraryThing Member's Giveaway Scheme.