From Ashes: Touch of Insanity, #10

By Rosa Marchisella

With Mother's earrings finally in reach, Kharee and her companions race against the forces of madness toward Jalar. But the stress of being the Healer begins to wear her down. With the remains of Elrom's devastated family arriving from Tothym and the false king's forces closing in, House Drenar needs to find a new home.

 

Allies band together to create sane communities, but Lilten is loose in Besamie, and a mysterious threat is attacking her friends. Can Kharee keep those in her care safe, or will her enemies finally destroy her?

 

Touch of Insanity is a complete series with cliffhangers that require the books to be read in order.

Book 1: First Steps

Book 2: Abbey Isle

Book 3: Forging Ahead

Book 4: Each According Their Worth Book

5: Into Darkness

Book 6: The Fallen

Book 7: The Birth of Pain

Book 8: The Great Divide

Book 9: Tarna'Hala

Book 10: From Ashes

Book 11: Blood of Darkness

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ember Park Imprint
• Release date: Feb 12, 2024
• ISBN: 9781989016817

Rosa Marchisella

Rosa Marchisella is the author of the gripping Touch of Insanity series and bone-chilling novella, The Greatest of Books. Her stories focus on fantasy, paranormal, and thrilling adventures. A dynamic and prolific story-teller, Rosa has earned critical praise as a writer, stage actress, vocalist, public speaker, and artist. Her hobbies include gardening, hikes, and playing games with her kids.

Book preview

Chapter 1

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Tension crackled in the air between Vance and Sha’sheen. I shifted, uncomfortable. The wood elf usually gravitated to Vance in her quiet moments, leaning across the warrior’s broad chest as she thought. He was her peaceful place. This was not one of those moments.

So if you keep sailing in one direction in your world, you end up on the other side? Skepticism dripped from the elf’s words.

Yes, Vance confirmed, tight-lipped.

Sha’sheen glanced at Vreem, but the blue dragon’s expression was inscrutable.

And no one gets turned away at the edge? Your gods just let you magically appear on the other side?

There is no edge. Vance dug an apple from his pack. Our world is like this: round.

He traced a thick forefinger around the middle to demonstrate.

Sha’sheen snorted, arms crossed. How do you stay on it?

Gravity, the warrior growled.

Even here? She pointed to the bottom of the apple with a spindly green finger.

Yes.

Elrom’s arms slid around my waist, his earthy scent filling my head. I leaned into his embrace.

Is he making a joke? I whispered.

No, Elrom replied.

How do your gods keep you safe if you’re not in their hands?

Elrom leaned to the side to peer at my face, and a soft brown curl slipped from the silver hair comb. You’re serious?

I turned to him, brows lowering in concern. As serious as the plague.

"Your Folan literally holds the world?"

Yes. When we get too close to his hands, we’re redirected. It can get tricky because you never know where he’ll send you.

I thought that was a myth.

Made up? I crossed my arms, head tilting. Why would we lie about our world and its creation?

Elrom hedged, folding his hands in front of himself. Myths aren’t necessarily lies . . .

I waited for him to finish.

Metaphor? he offered, eyebrows raised.

Your world is crazy, Sha’sheen huffed, flipping her moss-colored hair. I do not like your gods!"

Agreed. But for vastly different reasons.

The elf stalked away from Vance and scrambled onto Vreem’s back without the saddle, chattering to him in the strange language they shared. Vreem leapt into the air, buffeting us with the back draft.

Vance raked his fingers through his dark hair. How does she do that?

Which part? I asked. Speak dragon or stick to his back without a saddle?

He continued to stare after Sha’sheen and Vreem with a strange expression.

Run off, leaving him frustrated and aroused, Elrom murmured in my ear.

Oh gods! I didn’t need that. I scrubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands, trying to erase the mental image.

Milord? Tres approached, eyes darting around for any sign of Vreem. The dragon still made him nervous.

He looked much healthier since I rid him of the disease killing him, and he’d tanned over the past few weeks. It suited him. I checked the shielding around his mind. Ensuring everyone around me was sane and protected from Mischa’s influence had become a habit.

We discovered a few people in our extended clan with psionic abilities. With some training and effort, they helped me maintain a chain of shields that spanned our growing family. It eased the strain on my mind, but those who traveled with me required my attention. I sorely missed Chasing Rabbit. The halfling would have been an invaluable asset with a bit of training. Too bad I hadn’t learned this before—

He hadn’t been with Ben during our last encounter. What happened to him? Was he still trapped in the Drift? Or maybe lost in another world? Please, let him be alive somewhere safe.

Elrom turned his attention to Tres with a weary smile. Yes, my friend?

My attention snapped back to the present.

With a last glance around, Tres focused on Elrom. All is well with the harvest, and more of our people from the Drift have arrived.

Excellent.

Tres cleared his throat, looking put-upon.

There’s a problem?

Not yet. Tres hedged. "News of your escape has spread across the West. Jong Ji is considered a traitor to the Western throne, as are we all. The spell Ordan and Windola put up continues to hide Nhigio from the false king’s people, however, two Western candidates have arrived in the village. They both said the same thing; they followed the Calling and found themselves there."

Sounds like the gods are asking us to ensure everyone has safe passage east. Elrom looked at me, and I nodded.

Is there room to house them until we can get them to Jalar? I asked.

Yes, my lady. They’re restless, but I should be able to convince them of your wisdom.

Good. So many people depended on us. The more we could keep safe in one place while I did my job, the less I had to worry about.

Keep an eye on the situation with the false king in case we need to move everyone east sooner than expected, Elrom instructed.

Of course. Tres fidgeted, eyes on the ground.

There’s more?

One last thing. Tres confessed. The clan has prepared a memorial feast so we can properly mourn the loss of the Drenar family in Tothym.

I put a hand on Elrom’s arm. Vreem explained what he knew of the carnage in Tothym. The assassin’s message was accurate. Prolonged absence of the Drenar patriarchs and their magic-forged ties resulted in the family lands failing. Emboldened by the family’s vulnerability, Lord Rivan, a minor rival of the Drenar family, gathered support from other families to hire the Robish Riders.

The Riders ruthlessly hunted down and slaughtered Elrom’s family members and all who served the family — every man, woman, dragon, and child. The Riders left no one alive to return for revenge. Any house caught harboring a Drenar opened themselves to the same fate. The Riders didn’t care who stood in their path.

My husband was the last of his line. His home and lands in Tothym were in the hands of his enemies, and his family was unavenged.

When we finish here, we can ask the Guardian to allow us access to Tothym, I offered, smoothing imaginary wrinkles from his shirt. His new wardrobe from the West fit him nicely and was a wonderful distraction from the thought of him returning to Tothym.

His sad smile broke my heart. "One cannot build a thriving future on memories of the past. There is no justice in that harsh world. Our people — our children — deserve better, and we shall provide it for them, even if I never set foot in Tothym again. A life of peace and goodness is the best revenge I could ever offer."

I squeezed him, pride welling in my heart.

Tres turned away to swipe at his face, and Elrom pulled him into a hug. We will have a home again, my friend.

Wherever you are is my home, Tres replied, face buried in Elrom’s shoulder.

Chapter 2

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The mood was somber when we returned to the Drenar-Bear Clan village. Our people gathered with orcs from both clans and our friends from Nhigio. At sunset, we released floating candles on the river. Laktu, Gor, and Vreem sang orc, dwarven, and dragon songs of mourning and valor. We drained cups into the soil and laid aside food for the spirits of the lost.

Dalman stood, covered in blue and white paint to match his pale eyes and hair. A chest plate of reed and bamboo covered his massive chest, a blue wave painted in the middle.

From the ocean, we came. To the ocean, we return. No matter where we live and die, our souls know the way home. The towering