Today, we have a short excerpt from The Tower of Beggars, the first novel in Torsten Weitze‘s Stormfell Academy series. Weitze is a prolific German fantasy author, and this marks his first publication in North America and in the UK. Due to be published tomorrow, by Absurd Ventures, here’s the synopsis:
When tragedy strikes her family, Niri finds herself penniless and alone in a city determined to turn their back on ‘her kind’.
Her only possession is also her only hope – a copper coin that grants her admission to the prestigious Stormfell Academy, renowned for its magical and combative training.
But the coin only offers her a place to sleep, and Niri must learn to adapt and fight if she is to survive the Academy – and its occupants.
The Tower of Beggars is the first enthralling instalment in the bestselling Stormfell Academy series that has captivated millions of readers in Europe, now available in the US and UK for the first time.
Welcome to the Academy…
*
“Are you sure?”
His question cut through her confidence like a sharp blade. She hesitated and looked at her companion. Bloodied, with torn clothes and that characteristically unreadable expression in his eyes, he stood there, amidst one of the numerous ruins of Countless Cairns. The dilapidated building in which they would take the first, tentative steps of their uncertain journey, had once been a palace. Had been. Which of the many extinct empires it be longed to, she could not say. Countless Cairns did not bear its name for no reason. And they were responsible for their destruction, just as those who had come before them, and those against whom they would now conspire.
“Am I sure about this? I wish I could give you an honest answer,” she re plied, continuing to look around the great hall, which the man before her had carefully chosen as the stage for his defeat – just as he had chosen the expression he was now wearing on his face. Both the architecture of the pal ace and the features of the man in front of her could best be described as aristocratic.
Columns, elegant and tall, had supported the once gold-fringed dome of the hall, through whose gaping hole the cloud-filled sky could be seen. The light drizzle that had fallen on these broken stone benches and on the overturned white granite throne lent a mournful note to this fallen place of royal power – a note which was also reflected on the features of the gaunt man before her and which coloured every aspect of him, from his carefully trimmed goatee beard to the deep furrows of exhaustion on his unnaturally symmetrical face. Only his eyes betrayed his true nature. She knew no other being on Deatril that could convey mockery, cheerfulness and sadness all at the same time. To look into his eyes was to challenge madness.
And this, precisely, was their plan – pure madness, born out of a lack of alternatives. She drew her dagger.
“So you do have an answer for me after all.” The sound of satisfaction in every syllable of his sentence.
She stabbed.
He grunted: “Damn, it has been a long time since I felt this kind of pain.”
“I got him,” she called over her shoulder before her courage had a chance to fail her. “Come quickly.”
“One last parting gift,” he gasped, pointing to a rectangular display case shrouded in a leather cloth beside the throne. “You know how he loves trophies. And this one he will not want to miss out on.” He reached under his deep blue brocade vest and pulled out the pendant. “There’s only one thing left to do.”
She shuddered. Would she make the same sacrifice if she were in his place? She prayed that she would never have to find out, and suppressed a self-deprecating, almost maniacal laugh. Who would she pray to?
A single jerk and it was done. The broken silver chain of the pendant slipped from the man’s trembling fingers and fell to the floor. The gem itself followed.
“Quick,” she breathed as heavy footsteps sounded behind her. “He’s right here.” Again, she met the complex gaze of her ally. This time she saw agony, anticipation, and boredom reflected in his eyes. She quickly looked away.
“Don’t wait for me. It will take a long time.” By the time she looked back at him, he was already gone. Running away was something he had always been a master of.
“Where is he?” a voice raw with anger roared behind her. “I want to peel the skin off all his many faces!”
She wasn’t sure if the newcomer truly meant it or had simply lost control of his emotions once again. Lately, the distinction had become increasingly blurred. This was only one of the many reasons they had begun their venture. “He’s gone. But before that, I was able to wound him and get this from him.” She pointed to the silver pendant, shaped like a heart. If you stared at it long enough, you would almost believe that the heart was slowly beating…
“The Heart of Chaos.” Both disgust and greed resonated in the four spoken words. He stepped even closer to her. “Do you want to claim the pendant for yourself?” She heard the obligatory question. And she also heard the creaking of leather as two hands tightened around weapon grips.
“No”, she responded, giving the only correct answer. The creaking behind her stopped. “Lock it in your seal chamber with the others.”
“Good.” Suddenly his voice was quiet again. Deep and soft. The way it al ways sounded when he was in control of himself.
She felt a large hand on her shoulder. Surprisingly it was not an unpleasant touch, but empathetic and forgiving. “Don’t forget why we are doing this.”
She knew what she had to say. “May the quarrel end.”
“Yes. May the quarrel end.”
*
Torsten Weitze’s The Tower of Beggars is due to be published by Absurd Ventures tomorrow in North America and in the UK.
Civilian Reader 