Ghostblood by Pier Giorgio Pacifici

In a land crushed by the weight of ages, the lives and deaths of two people - one running away from her fate, the other embracing his destiny - become intertwined. Both have a part to play in the history of their mummified empire, but as their destinies clash and the boundaries of death itself become blurred, can they even trust each other enough to fulfill their appointed fate?

"...I enjoyed this novella. It had a great plot, two totally opposite characters and a twist for an ending. Elis is a spunky, independent woman! Alric is a very cunning character that I both loathed and loved at the same time. He had a different feel than other main male characters I usually read about...it is a great one-sitter, with a great moral."

Reviewed by Kayla Weeks for Howling Good Books

Read the full review here

 There is peace in death, when the chains of the world fall away and the true splendour of

the cosmos is revealed in all its glory; when blind eyes see for the first time beyond the illusions

of life and reality into the kingdom of the gods, seeing what was denied for so long – the serenity

that lies behind the gates of Death. Yet sometimes, the lure of the living world is too strong, and

too much remains to be done for the spirit to move on, even though Death herself would lead it to her realm.

Such is the fate of the Akun-hem, the Silent Keepers. Few are chosen for this great

sacrifice. Only those whose spirit and mettle are strong enough to withstand the duty are chosen,

for the duty of an Akun-him is eternal, until the Twin Worlds are dust in the void of time and

Time itself comes to an end.

For the Akun-hem watch over the ancient graves of the Emperors of Mathklyr. Their

marble mausoleums are carved into the living rock of the canyon that bards call the Hand of

Destiny, and the people of Mathklyr simply the Necropolis. It is the final resting place of those

whose courage was strong enough to accept the challenge of the Crowning, those whose

willpower, strength, and intelligence allowed the Empire to survive and prosper for uncounted

centuries, while all others crumbled into dust. Within those sepulchres, the elder Emperors lay

undisturbed, but it is said that while their spirits sleep, their minds wander the Empire that once

was theirs, and they grow in wisdom and stature as the years slowly pass by, molding them into

legend.

ALRIC

I was not among those blessed souls charged with protecting the sleeping Emperors. No,

my story is that of a bookbinder's son, born in the city of Alduen on the shores of the river

Hegard. My name was Alric Ingeist, a member of the artisan class, not important enough to

warrant a third name; but early in my youth, I decided that my father's life would not be mine – I

wished to see and experience more, to rise the social ladder as few had done before me. Childish dreams, perhaps, but they survived into maturity, until the time came for me to decide what to do with my life.

On my nineteenth naming day, during the ceremony that would mark my adulthood, the

priests of Oinrin-Laurel came to me, as they did with all young men and women, and asked me

what my fate would be, that it might be written in the Book kept in their temple under the great

statue of Oinrin-Laurel herself, blessed by the goddess of fate and destiny.

It was said that the goddess would smile upon those whose fate was written in the Book,

and would grant them their heart's desire; that she rewarded the humble, and punished the

arrogant, for she was one aspect of the great goddess Oinrin, who, in her natural guise, was the

goddess of sovereignty, and the chief deity among the Kerrethain of Mathklyr. In front of her,

even Emperors bowed; and it was said that all Emperors receive both Imperial authority and long

life from her hands.

I had given long thought to the matter, as all others had, for our choice would serve to

declare us adults or children in the Empire's eyes. Stories were told of those who had claimed too lofty a fate, and had been denied adulthood until they had understood the reality of the world. It

was customary for participants in the ceremony to spend the night before in prayer, considering

what lay ahead of us and how best to fulfill our potential. I had found my answer in the silence of

the night; I desired to be a soldier for the Empire.

I was not particularly strong, and my endurance was not superior to that of most other

men of my age; but I was swift, and I had a talent for stealth, skills that would be better put to use as a scout for the Imperial army than as a humble bookbinder. And I knew that soldiers were

beyond castes; in the army, the sons of farmers mingle with the sons of artisans and noblemen,

and the only rank that matters is military rank. Women, of course, are forbidden from entering the army: it has been thus for uncounted centuries, and traditions have the same weight as law – even imagining to break one is unthinkable for any citizen of the Empire. It is best that way: war is not a simple or pleasant affair, and the natural kindness and soft-heartedness of women, which we cherish, would make them a liability in battle.

The army was the only way for a man to rise through the castes, whereas women could do

so simply by marrying into a higher caste. Blood was the price both of us would pay, our blood

spilled on the battlefield and theirs in the nuptial bed.

In any case, I was not the only one who had chosen the soldier's path to escape the

strictures of my caste. Many other youths, sons of farmers, herders, and artisans had decided to

risk entering the army rather than pursuing a life with no hope of improvement. Even some of the sons of merchants chose such a fate: it was said that many minor noble Houses had risen from the ranks of wealthy merchants, ennobled for acts of bravery on the field by their founders. And

though most of these ennoblements had taken place in the past, who could say whether such a

chance would present itself again?

The priests of Oinrin-Laurel listened to the fates we had chosen. None was a surprise for

me, for I had long known most of the young men and women who had joined me, and we had

often discussed our dreams, our hopes. There were those who were content with their parents'

choices, and those who were not; those who dreamed of being soldiers, those who desired to

study the art of magic, those who wished to join the clergy, and those who chose a fate of

marriage and a simple, but full life. And there were those who could not or would not choose a

fate, letting the goddess Oinrin-Laurel choose one for them; in that uncertainty they would find a

challenge that would delight them, regardless of how cruel or rewarding the fate she chose for

them would be.

One by one, each of us chose his or her fate: and the priests moved to the rows of youths

behind mine, so I could no longer see them, only hear their soft questions and the fates chosen by

those they interrogated. I heard the fates of my friends and loved ones. With each fate, I relaxed

slightly; the ceremony would soon be over, and my adult life would finally begin. How had I

waited for this moment! I was full of the excitement of youth, of dreams that were perhaps

childish, of glory, victory, acknowledgements. I daydreamed as the priests approached the last

few young men and women: cobbler, soldier, wife, cattle herder, leatherworker, scribe, priest of Laerius, loremaster… but in the end, one clear, ringing voice shook me from my daydreaming, as the last of the line, a woman whose voice I did not know, chose for herself an impossible fate:

"Akun-him!" she proclaimed proudly, and the whispering of those who had attended the

ceremony – children, parents, relatives – suddenly fell into silence as the last echoes of her voice

vanished in the great Hall of Oinrin-Laurel.