Welcome to the Official Blog Tour for Author Jenn Lyons' The Memory of Souls, the third title in the A Chorus of Dragons series! Today, on our tour stop, we have an exclusive excerpt and a guest post topic, Ten Reasons to Read The Memory of Souls, to share! Oh, we can't forget the cool tour-wide giveaway! So... Be sure to check it out and grab your copy now! Follow the tour, HERE!
Genre:
Adult
Epic Fantasy
Series:
A Chorus of Dragons, #3
A Chorus of Dragons, #3
Publish Date:
August 25, 2020
Publisher:
Synopsis:
WHAT IF YOU'RE THE ONE WHO HAS TO DIE?
Now that the city of Atrine has been destroyed and Relos Var's plan to free the dark god Vol Karoth has been revealed—the end of the world is closer than ever.
To buy time for humanity, Kihrin, Janel, and Thurvishar must convince the king of the Manol vané to perform an ancient ritual that will strip the vané of their immortality—a ritual that certain vané will do anything to prevent. Including assassinating the ones bringing the news.
Worse, Kihrin must come to terms with the horrifying possibility that his connection to Vol Karoth is steadily growing in strength. How can Kihrin hope to save anyone when he might turn out to be the greatest threat of them all?
*Excerpt*
Seven blazing
pillars of light slammed into the earth next to the confrontation. The men who
had been standing there—witchhunters, wizards, soldiers—vanished. Thurvishar
liked to think those men found themselves transported to a safe location, but
he couldn’t verify that earlier, when I’d transported myself to the ruined
city of Kharas Gulgoth, where Vol Karoth’s prison lay. Once was enough; I’d
know those clouds and burning tang in the air anywhere. I’d survived before because
three of the Immortals had personally shown up to escort me back out. That wasn’t
going to happen this time.
Teraeth picked up a rock and threw it in frustration. “Oh, this is absolutely the Korthaen Blight. Damn it. I’m wondering if the king even knew we’d arrived to see him.” The pack animals still wandered from scrub bush to scrub bush, forcing everyone to walk after the wagon if we didn’t want to lose it.
“Perhaps not,” Thurvishar said, “but he soon will. I’ll open a gate and return us to the Capital. Once there, we can contact the Eight again and decide how to handle this next. Does that sound reasonable?”
There was a beat of silence. Then I realized Thurvishar was waiting for us to give him permission. ⁶ “Yeah. Great idea. Do it.”
“Please,” Janel added. She looked down at her red silk outfit with obvious exasperation. “Why couldn’t they have waited for us to be dressed properly before drugging us and dumping us out here?”
The vané had been hospitable. That was the galling thing. No one had ever said, “No, go away.” They had instead welcomed us in; insisted we would see the king as soon as he returned to the Capital; and that in the meantime, we needed appropriate clothing for the court. At which point they’d spent the next week or so throwing sumptuous attire at us, mostly so we could wear something nice at all the parties they’d invited us to attend.
Janel’s outfit resembled traditional western Quuros attire, but only to someone who’d never seen traditional West Quuros attire. So while she wore a raisigi, hers clasped tightly around her breasts and then fell in panels of transparent silk, which deepened from orange to dark crimson. Her kef pants had panels missing at the hips joined by a thin chain of interlocking gold salamanders. The outfit didn’t even faintly resemble outdoor attire, although at least she wore boots.
That was better than Teraeth or I could claim. We wore sandals, in addition to silk vané robes so thin I found myself glad the fashion required layering them. ⁷ The only reason Teraeth wore anything that could be described as more than “formal jewelry” was because he’d wanted to make sure he could conceal all his knives.
Teraeth sighed. “At least the silk is worth a fortune.”
“I’d rather be naked and still have my sword,” Janel said.
Teraeth picked up a rock and threw it in frustration. “Oh, this is absolutely the Korthaen Blight. Damn it. I’m wondering if the king even knew we’d arrived to see him.” The pack animals still wandered from scrub bush to scrub bush, forcing everyone to walk after the wagon if we didn’t want to lose it.
“Perhaps not,” Thurvishar said, “but he soon will. I’ll open a gate and return us to the Capital. Once there, we can contact the Eight again and decide how to handle this next. Does that sound reasonable?”
There was a beat of silence. Then I realized Thurvishar was waiting for us to give him permission. ⁶ “Yeah. Great idea. Do it.”
“Please,” Janel added. She looked down at her red silk outfit with obvious exasperation. “Why couldn’t they have waited for us to be dressed properly before drugging us and dumping us out here?”
The vané had been hospitable. That was the galling thing. No one had ever said, “No, go away.” They had instead welcomed us in; insisted we would see the king as soon as he returned to the Capital; and that in the meantime, we needed appropriate clothing for the court. At which point they’d spent the next week or so throwing sumptuous attire at us, mostly so we could wear something nice at all the parties they’d invited us to attend.
Janel’s outfit resembled traditional western Quuros attire, but only to someone who’d never seen traditional West Quuros attire. So while she wore a raisigi, hers clasped tightly around her breasts and then fell in panels of transparent silk, which deepened from orange to dark crimson. Her kef pants had panels missing at the hips joined by a thin chain of interlocking gold salamanders. The outfit didn’t even faintly resemble outdoor attire, although at least she wore boots.
That was better than Teraeth or I could claim. We wore sandals, in addition to silk vané robes so thin I found myself glad the fashion required layering them. ⁷ The only reason Teraeth wore anything that could be described as more than “formal jewelry” was because he’d wanted to make sure he could conceal all his knives.
Teraeth sighed. “At least the silk is worth a fortune.”
“I’d rather be naked and still have my sword,” Janel said.
⁶ When one
has grown up knowing that disobeying an order means death, certain instincts
become quite difficult to break.
⁷ In fact, the layering is optional. The vané don’t seem to have nudity taboos.
⁷ In fact, the layering is optional. The vané don’t seem to have nudity taboos.
Thurvishar held out his hands as he
began casting the complicated spell that would get us out of this death trap. I
wasn’t surprised our would-be killers—whoever they were—had assumed we wouldn’t
be able to escape the Blight. There weren’t more than a hundred people in
the whole world powerful enough to open freestanding gates—and most of those were
god-kings. I can count the number of mortals who can pull off that trick on my
hands with fingers left over. ⁸
Fortunately for us, Thurvishar was one of those people. Dumping us into the Blight without food, water, or weapons would have been fatal if we’d been stuck there.
Except nothing was happening.
“Um, Thurvishar?” I cleared my throat to catch his attention.
He stopped moving his fingers. “That . . . didn’t work. Let me try this again—”
“Thurvishar, look up.” Janel’s voice sounded soft and urgent.
I looked up too. The clouds above our heads had turned from sickly yellow brown to silver gray, flickering with rainbow colors: reds, greens, violets. ⁹ The clouds seemed to be boiling.
“What the hell is—?” Janel started to say.
“I know that sky.” Teraeth’s eyes widened. “Everyone under the wagon! Under the wagon right now!”
Janel grabbed the nearest person—Thurvishar—and pushed him down. At the same time, Teraeth yanked me down. I didn’t need the incentive, but I was happy to take all the help I could as I scrambled under cover.
Something thumped to the ground nearby. A second sound followed the first, then another, until it echoed like violent rain.
“What—” I turned my head to look.
A sword slammed into the ground, point first, impaling itself. A dagger sank down next to it, vibrating. Then another. Not all the weapons fell point first, but anyone outside without cover could expect to be bludgeoned or stabbed to death in short order. As if to punctuate the point, animal screams rang out, cut mercifully short. ¹º Metallic sounds rang out all around as weapons crashed into metal already on the ground.
“Swords?” I said. “It’s raining swords?” I remembered Morios, the dragon Janel had slain, but he’d breathed clouds of wind-whipped metal, more like razor-tipped metal shards. These were actual, honest-to-gods swords, complete with wire-wrapped pommels, cross guards, and blood grooves.
Fortunately for us, Thurvishar was one of those people. Dumping us into the Blight without food, water, or weapons would have been fatal if we’d been stuck there.
Except nothing was happening.
“Um, Thurvishar?” I cleared my throat to catch his attention.
He stopped moving his fingers. “That . . . didn’t work. Let me try this again—”
“Thurvishar, look up.” Janel’s voice sounded soft and urgent.
I looked up too. The clouds above our heads had turned from sickly yellow brown to silver gray, flickering with rainbow colors: reds, greens, violets. ⁹ The clouds seemed to be boiling.
“What the hell is—?” Janel started to say.
“I know that sky.” Teraeth’s eyes widened. “Everyone under the wagon! Under the wagon right now!”
Janel grabbed the nearest person—Thurvishar—and pushed him down. At the same time, Teraeth yanked me down. I didn’t need the incentive, but I was happy to take all the help I could as I scrambled under cover.
Something thumped to the ground nearby. A second sound followed the first, then another, until it echoed like violent rain.
“What—” I turned my head to look.
A sword slammed into the ground, point first, impaling itself. A dagger sank down next to it, vibrating. Then another. Not all the weapons fell point first, but anyone outside without cover could expect to be bludgeoned or stabbed to death in short order. As if to punctuate the point, animal screams rang out, cut mercifully short. ¹º Metallic sounds rang out all around as weapons crashed into metal already on the ground.
“Swords?” I said. “It’s raining swords?” I remembered Morios, the dragon Janel had slain, but he’d breathed clouds of wind-whipped metal, more like razor-tipped metal shards. These were actual, honest-to-gods swords, complete with wire-wrapped pommels, cross guards, and blood grooves.
⁸ Kihrin
does know rather a lot of people powerful enough to open gates, though, doesn’t he?
⁹ Tya’s colors. I find that fascinating.
¹º It’s fortunate they’d died quickly, before they could bolt and drag the wagon away from us
⁹ Tya’s colors. I find that fascinating.
¹º It’s fortunate they’d died quickly, before they could bolt and drag the wagon away from us
“This time,” Teraeth agreed. “At
least it’s not raining acid.”
“Or poisonous spiders,” Thurvishar added. “I’ve read an account—”¹¹
“Yes, you read my account—”¹²
“Kihrin!” Janel grabbed my misha and pulled me toward her, just as a sword found its way through a crack in the wagon’s wooden floor and sliced all the way down. It missed me by the finest of margins.
It also meant I was pressed against Janel, which, to be honest, wasn’t unpleasant at all. Janel seemed to realize how provocative the new position was the same time I did and started to smile.
“Are you hurt?” Teraeth asked.
I looked back over my shoulder, past the sword, and met Teraeth’s eyes. He looked scared, which wasn’t an expression I remembered ever seeing on his face before.
Teraeth’s worry shook me out of any temptation to flirt. I let out a small prayer to my goddess, even though I knew it wouldn’t do any good.
Taja was busy. Or hiding. I’m not sure which idea bothered me more.
“Or poisonous spiders,” Thurvishar added. “I’ve read an account—”¹¹
“Yes, you read my account—”¹²
“Kihrin!” Janel grabbed my misha and pulled me toward her, just as a sword found its way through a crack in the wagon’s wooden floor and sliced all the way down. It missed me by the finest of margins.
It also meant I was pressed against Janel, which, to be honest, wasn’t unpleasant at all. Janel seemed to realize how provocative the new position was the same time I did and started to smile.
“Are you hurt?” Teraeth asked.
I looked back over my shoulder, past the sword, and met Teraeth’s eyes. He looked scared, which wasn’t an expression I remembered ever seeing on his face before.
Teraeth’s worry shook me out of any temptation to flirt. I let out a small prayer to my goddess, even though I knew it wouldn’t do any good.
Taja was busy. Or hiding. I’m not sure which idea bothered me more.
¹¹ Atrin
Kandor brought troops into the Korthaen Blight the last time Vol Karoth woke.
And then took them right back out again.
¹² Yes, I suppose I had forgotten Teraeth actually is the reincarnation of Atrin Kandor.
¹² Yes, I suppose I had forgotten Teraeth actually is the reincarnation of Atrin Kandor.
Copyright © 2020 by Jenn
Lyons
~~~
Ten Reasons to Read The Memory of Souls
1. Dragons. AND dragons fighting other dragons.
2. Because you need to find out what happens to Khaeriel and Therin after that ending in Book 1.
3. Because you need to find out what happens to Kihrin, Janel, Teraeth, and Thurvishar after that ending in Book 2.
4. Road trip(s).
5. I force tough men to talk about their feelings.
6. Because the ‘only one bed’ trope gets used at least three times.
7. Everyone is so thirsty.
8. Dad jokes. (In some cases told by actual dads.)
9. Footnotes
10. This is your only chance to see Relos Var drunk.
~~~~~
Praise for THE MEMORY OF SOULS
“Lyons has cleverly taken the epic fantasy tropes of prophecy and lineage and stood them on their heads, all while delving deep into her multidimensional characters and spinning great battles with high body counts.” ―Booklist, starred review
Praise for THE RUIN OF KINGS
"[A] jaw-dropping, action-packed story of betrayal, greed, and grand-scale conspiracy . . . Lyons ties it all together seamlessly to create literary magic. Epic fantasy fans looking for a virtually un-put-down-able read should look no further." ―Kirkus, starred review
"Rich, cruel, gorgeous, brilliant, enthralling and deeply, deeply satisfying. I loved it." ―Lev Grossman, author of The Magicians
“It was one hell of a ride. I gobbled it up and was hungry for more.” ―Glen Cook, author of The Black Company
“The Ruin of Kings is a fascinating story about a compellingly conflicted young hero in an intriguingly complex world.” ―L. E. Modesitt, Jr., author of the Recluse series
"A thriller plot of revenge and loyalty with a get-under-your-skin and keep-you-reading-all-night mystery at its heart. I loved it."―John Gwynne, author of Malice
"The Ruin of Kings revs up with the glitz of a high-speed, multi-level video game, with extreme magic and a teen hero with angst." ―Janny Wurts, author of The Curse of the Mistwraith
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Start reading the A Chorus of Dragons series now!
(covers link to Goodreads)
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**About the Author**
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| Photo Credit: MAatthew & Nicole Nicholson, DIM HORIZON STUDIO |
Jenn Lyons lives in Atlanta, Georgia, with her husband, three cats, and a lot of opinions on anything from the Sumerian creation myths to the correct way to make a martini. At various points in her life, she has wanted to be an archaeologist, anthropologist, architect, diamond cutter, fashion illustrator, graphic designer, or Batman. Turning from such obvious trades, she is now a video game producer by day, and spends her evenings writing science fiction and fantasy. When not writing, she can be founding debating the Oxford comma and Joss Whedon’s oeuvre at various local coffee shops.
Stay connected with Jenn Lyons
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***The Giveaway***
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- ends September 14, 2020
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