Author's note:
PLEASE READ!
My darlings, I'm launching my new site in a few days. It will have my webserial, Ani (first chapters currently available on JukePop; and in future updated once in two weeks); my art; recipes; and much more for you to enjoy!
Ani is my independent fantasy novel, in which I take a spin on the plot of Me Without You, but also there are quasi-Slavic, quasi-Viking sea warriors, the dead King might or might not look like Michael Fassbender in my head, his lieutenant Gosta is a hot ginger too, and there are two headed sea serpents :)
You can sign up for the newsletter for the site on my professional Facebook page (facebook dot com slash katyakolmakov), the link can also be found on my Instagram (kkolmakov), and on my blog (kolmakov dot ca).
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Love you!
kkolmakov
The pack had swept from their side then, appearing as if from nowhere, and that was when Werna lost the first of her warriors. She remembered him well now, ten years later. Gran, son of Braga. The youngest of them, dark haired, with laughing eyes alike black cherries. He had a wife in Iron Hills, she was of the Erebor Dwarves. He was reckless, and rushed into the fight without thinking. He had taken out five Orcs before he fell. The guards of Men fought poorly, Werna saw three of them tumble on the ground in the first few instants of the attack. She could not tell if they were dead. The two remaining Khazad warriors under her command quickly regrouped, and the three of them shielded the merchants.
And that was when the Haradrim appeared. They had been concealed behind a small hillock to the West of the creek they fought in, their feet sliding on rocks and shallow water. First, Werna could almost believe that the beasts and the Southrons had formed an alliance, but then she saw the curved Haradrim swords fall equally on the Men and the Orcs.
The Haradrim were few, probably just a scouting company. One of them was shouting some raspy orders. Were Werna not preoccupied with the monsters, she would have understood quicker that the assailants were intent on disposing of merchants and the guard, but herself and her companions were to be captured. Only when a thick net fell on Frar, son of Freri, she screamed to her warriors in Khuzdul warning them.
A fight was never a neat business, but when one had three sides, two fighting to survive and to kill, while the third pursuing a different cause, one could hardly keep track of what was transpiring.
The combat stopped as abruptly as it had started, and Werna looked around. All Men but two merchants and one guard were dead, the creek was full of foul black blood of Orcs, their bodies slashed and cut lying in ugly heaps in the shallow water. The Haradrim were gone, having left two of their dead behind them. One of Werna's warriors was kneeling, supporting himself on the handle of his battle axe, breathing loudly. Another lay in the grass, to her left, long straight sword of Men having entered his throat above the breast plate.
Werna stumbled to him. His unseeing eyes were wide open, the white clouds reflected in the brown irises. Werna pulled at the sword, blood gushed out of the wound, and she looked at the handle.
She recognised the long grip, and the round plummet immediately. She had see the long fingers of Amrod, son of Mablung wrap around the hilt innumerous times.
Werna looked around. The Gondorian was gone.
Present day...
"Werna!" The Man smiled widely. "I would rise to greet you, my friend, but I do not wish to shock you with my bareness..."
"I am not your friend!" Werna wanted to scream, but her voice came out as a screechy rasp. "You colluded with the Ibrizbuzru! You murdered my warrior!" Werna felt Bilbo, who was supporting her, jerk, and the Dwarves moved behind her, the unmistakable sound of blades sliding out of scabbards could be heard.
"Oh you are still the same blaze, elanor!" The Man laughed lightly, and pushed wet hair off his face. "I have not colluded with the Haradrim. I was captured, and spent five years in slavery."
He lifted his arms dramatically, and Werna saw scars around his wrists. She had seen them before. The jagged shackles the Southrons were to restrain a captive, and slowly bleed them to keep from regaining strength to run. Judging by the depth and width of the ones on the wrists of Amrod, son of Mablung, he had still been trying for a long time after they had been locked around his arms. The scars, which Werna now noticed, on his shoulders and chest - from whips and chains - were quite telling as well.
"Your sword was buried in the neck of my warrior..."
"It was taken from me." She saw Amrod's face grow dark. "This dishonour will remain with me till my grave, elanor."
Werna's eyes searched his face.
"I am much more interested how you convinced the Skinchanger to play generous host to you, kind sir." The Wizard's voice was calm and slightly sarcastic, and Amrod threw him a merry look.
"I came bearing gifts."
"Gifts?" the King asked, and stepped forward. Amrod's dark lively eyes shifted at him, and suddenly the Man barked a throaty laugh.
"Is it your Dwarf, elanor? The one you were pining for all those years ago?"
Werna felt her knees give in, and Bilbo caught her once again. Blood rushed from her already pale cheeks. She could feel the King's eyes on herself, but she stubbornly continued looking at the Man.
"So, aye, back to our business," Amrod drew out, pointedly splashed in his tub, and chuckled. "Aye, gifts. Three Goblin heads and a gutted Warg. And then we drank." Amrod chuckled and shook his head good-naturedly. "My head is splitting, the Bearman can hold his brew, but on the other hand, I was invited to help myself to hot water while our host... went for a stroll."
He gave them a beaming grin, and then patted the surface of his bath with an open palm, making loud flopping noises.
"I suggest you go back to the house, and help yourselves to food and rest. It is time I come out, and ladies are present here." His eyes met Werna's, and he bit into his bottom lip flirtily. "Unless you want to stay of course, my flame..."
"Watch your tongue, Gondorian," the King growled, and Werna whipped her head and looked at the Dwarf in astonishment. He had stepped forward, and Orcrist was bared in his hand. A ray of sunlight slid along the curved blade. Muscles tensed to the King's jaw, and the glacial eyes were burning. "You are speaking to a warrior of the Khazad. Do not make me teach you manners."
To her surprise, Werna realised the Man paid little attention to the King's outburst, which Werna knew should not have been taken that lightly. The rage underneath the cold facade was genuine, and the temper of the King-in-Exile was well known.
"Now I see why my childish affection was not returned then, my flower." Amrod smiled blissfully, and Werna heard the King grit his teeth. "You fancy them hot, as if just from under a hammer, do you not?"
Werna opened her mouth to rebuke the impudent Man, but the world swayed in front of her eyes, and she started sagging on the ground.
"Werna?" Bilbo's worried voice rang in her ears, through the unpleasant buzzing noise, and the world was growing increasingly darker.
Another pair of arms picked her up, and the already familiar sensation of being held by the King overwhelmed Werna's senses.
"Keep an eye on the Man!" the King barked, and Werna heard Bilbo mumble something. She could not feel his presence anymore, and she tried to gather some bearings, but she was growing more and more muddled. "Tharkun, she needs aid!"
The King led her back into the house, loud voices were heard behind her, and Werna wanted to tell the King that she perhaps did believe the Gondorian, but then she felt Thorin's scorching palm brush hair off her face.
"She is pale… Look… There is blood on the lips..." Thorin sounded distressed, and then she was laid on something soft, and she felt some fresh, soft fabric under her cheek.
Werna's eyes were closing, and then the King' agitated words were the last thing she heard before heavy, suffocating slumber took her.
"Do whatever you need… Save her..."
She dreamt of the day the letter came. It was mid Summer, the heat, humid, and heavy was lying on her chest, as if a barrel had rolled over her.
"Nanith!" Dania walked into the room, a parchment in her hand, and Werna lifted her eyes from the book in front of her. "Another letter from him!"
"So soon?" Werna asked in surprise. A raven from King Thorin had arrived no longer than a fortnight ago, and the response had not been sent yet.
"I have not opened it without you," Dania assured, and gracefully sat down near Werna on the bench. "Shall I?"
"Wait!" Werna covered Dania's nimble fingers with her hand, and some odd, chilling shudder ran her body. "I have a grave feeling… Here..." Werna splayed her hand over her chest, and Dania gave her a sceptical look over.
"Your id-zannag?" She jested, pointing at her sister's bosom with her eyes, and Werna made a scoffing noise.
"In my heart, you yellow headed rutabaga!"
Dania only laughed, and shook her head condescendingly, but Werna just could not rein her tremours. Dania laughed on, until her eyes ran the first lines of the letter, and then her face grew pale.
"Mahal help me..." Her blueish green eyes flew up, and Werna saw Dania's lips grow white.
"What?! What is it?" Werna tried to grab the letter, but Dania did not allow it.
"Werna..."
"What is it?! Speak already!"
"This is grave news..." Dania drew up, regaining her usual composure. Her beautiful eyes narrowed, and Werna grabbed her shoulders.
"What is it?! Is he well?! Does he live?! Dania, it is all I care about, just tell me! Is he well?!"
"He is. All is well. But… He breaks up the betrothal..."
The relief that washed over Werna was so strong that she first exhaled sharply and muttered gratitude to Mahal before the meaning of her sister's words reached her understanding.
"Is she burning? Her cheeks are red…" The King's voice was distraught.
"She just needs rest… The lungs are afflicted… She will recover…" Was that Tharkun speaking?
"You can stay while she heals..." Another voice answered, low, and animal like, with strange cadence to it. "So you are the one they call Oakenshield. Tell me, why is Azog the Defiler hunting you?"
Werna did not hear the rest of the conversation, as her sleep - now dreamless - took her.
**YOU CAN ALSO FIND ME AT**
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Also available on the blog:
romance webserial: Dr. T Series
Summary: Wren Leary, a young biochem student is placed before a choice: Will it be Philip Durinson, the self-assured ball of sunshine and a uni stud, or his cantankerous and mistrusting uncle, John Thorington? The first one is her friend, the second one regrets that night in the tent. Wrennie is in a pickle.
Updated every Saturday!
JukePop: Katya Kolmakov
Blind Carnival, a parody on romance/erotic novels
Summary: Olivia Dane is an author of trashy romance novels. She lost her husband seven years ago and seeks no relationship, preferring the company of her imaginary yet dashing protagonists. When forced to go on a blind date, the last thing Olivia expects is to meet John Dowling, an architect, and a willing guinea pig for her writing research. Armed with openness and eager curiosity, Olivia and John endeavour to find out if erotic clichés even work, whether relationships tie one down, and who wears the trousers in this couple.
Updated every Thursday!
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My book on Amazon!
CONVINCE ME THE WINTER IS OVER
{my first novel
inspired by the story initially written here}
Available on Amazon in Kindle and Paper!
Summary:
Renee Miller is a reclusive web designer who, after several hours of delirium from flu, wakes up to find a stranger in boxer briefs standing in her bathroom.
John is an archaeologist who finds himself stuck in a stranger's flat in a snowstorm.
Frozen in her neat and clean world of highly functional anxieties and her history of childhood trauma, Renee is perhaps the worst possible host for her flatmate's boyfriend's colleague. Yet, while the fervent gush of life that is John Greaves disrupts her carefully guarded existence, Renee finds herself gradually yearning for more.
Is John the first breath of Spring in her frigid world?