The Sons of Alkaia: Witches of Etlantium

By Thea Atkinson

The wolves smelled milk on her.

...And they came. 

Alkaia is not a weak woman. She was chosen to lead her fearsome women warriors because of her strength, and she has brought them back from near extinction because of it.

Now she has dared rescue a man she has come to love from inevitable execution, and she faces exile for that unforgiveable crime. The custom dictates she be driven from her lands into the wilds naked and with nothing to help her survive.

They think her death is inevitable, but she didn't rise to power because she gives in to hardship.

No. Hardship only makes her stronger.

But this fight might be her toughest yet. She's newly delivered of twins and as a woman at the end of her child-bearing years, it was a difficult delivery. She nearly died then. She doesn't plan to die now.

Except she's burdened by an infant son.

And the wolves are closing in.

If she's to survive, she must find a way to use the boy's vulnerability to turn the odds in her favor. Can she find a way to beat those odds without paying too high a price, or will the woods hold a threat more frightening than a pack of beasts, and soften the heart she has spent a lifetime hardening?

If you love stories about strong women struggling to find their way to enlightenment and self-fulfillment even as they navigate worlds of magic and intrigue, then this story is for you.

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• Language: English
• Publisher: Thea Atkinson
• Release date: Mar 7, 2013
• ISBN: 9781498907514

Thea Atkinson

Thea Atkinson writes character driven fiction to the left of mainstream; call it what you will: she prefers to describe her work as psychological dramas with a distinct literary flavour. Her characters often find themselves in the darker edges of their own spirits but manage to find the light they seek. She has been an editor, a freelancer, and a teacher, but fiction is her passion. She now blogs and writes and twitters. Not necessarily in that order. Please visit her blog for ramblings, guest posts, giveaways, and more http://theaatkinson.wordpress.com or follow her on twitter http://twitter.com/#!/theaatkinson or like her facebook page: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Theas-Writing-Page/122231651163413 a special thanks to Tiffany Atkinson for taking my author photo.

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Sons of Alkaia

Tales from Etlantium

Continued stories from the Witches of Etlantium series

Copyright 2012 Thea Atkinson

Published by Thea Atkinson

All rights reserved

No part of this publication may be reproduced in whole or in part, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form electronic or otherwise without permission from the author. All characters are the creative property of Thea Atkinson and may not be used without permission.

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Sons of Alkaia

One

THE WOLVES smelled the milk and womb blood on her, and they came. Alkaia imagined the scents leaked tendrils of sweetness out to them through the night air, speaking to them in a language the beasts understood to their cores. Oh, yes, the blood--her blood--called to them. Alkaia heard them snuffling at the perimeter of the darkness where the firelight from her paltry flame couldn't reach. It had taken her far too long to tinder the pitiful flames that separated her from the night, and meager as it was, she protected it like she'd protected nothing in her life before.

Except for the man, she reminded herself, and then quickly threw ash on the light of that memory so that it couldn't distract her. Truth was, she was here now, exiled from her sisters and her land. Alone in the night with a sick flame grasping wearily at the night air.

She understood the fatigue, no matter how much she denied it. She was ill. There was no denying that either. And alone. At least she might as well be. Nothing and no one to hand but a newborn male. Nothing on her back to keep the chill night air at bay. The cold stalked her like the wolves did.

She stole a glance at the shadows. The babe mewled from the spot where she'd left it, close enough to the fire that the predators wouldn't dare make for it, and far enough away that the sparks wouldn't land and catch his swaddling fur afire.

She supposed the wolves heard its pitiful cry as well. More reason to come stalking a warrior in the night when they thought her vulnerable.

Alkaia considered leaving the squalling thing where it lay, taking a stick with a good burning end off into the darkness and making camp elsewhere. Leave the wretched child to the wolves. But the bare truth of it was there were too many beasts in the pine forest to be sated by a newborn male. They'd come for her afterwards, their appetites piqued by the flavor of tender meat and newborn milk.

So she left it mewling where it was and kept her blade close at hand instead. She squatted near the flame, letting its little heat flush her face as best it could. One short sun cycle since she'd left the land of her sisters, choosing exile so that a breed man could live. Two days since birthing twins: the first set in dozens of seasons for her people, the first set of many to come in that one quarter solstice.

Two days since she'd left the daughter she'd longed to bear all these years while she clung to a male who was nothing to her but a burden.

How she grieved that girl child. Thera, Alkaia had named her. No one in the village even knew the origin of the name, but the man had told her it was their custom to name the child after the