The power of the dead gods is held by mere mortals. When the Aspect of Death, thought to be the last neutral force in the world, joins the struggle, he promises to bring an end to their wars by any means necessary.
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About the Book
Death’s Reckoning
The Mortal Aspects Book One
by Quinn Thomas
Published 18 July 2023
Genre: Epic Fantasy
Page Count: 394
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The battle for power is fierce in a world where mortals wield the strength of dead gods in this first book of a high-stakes epic fantasy series from Quinn Thomas.
A thousand years ago, the immortals were slain, their power passed down to a chosen few known as aspects. The competition between noble families for control of these aspects has plunged the land into a never-ending cycle of war and bloodshed.
The Tevulun family has been driven to the brink of extinction by the most recent war. When Tarana Tevulun, who possesses the abilities of Calamity, learns of her family’s intention to murder her, she flees with the assistance of a band of mercenaries. The Tevulun’s enemy, the Ma’isans, take advantage of her absence to advance and besiege the capital city of Vicrum. Tarana returns to fight for the city, but faces a difficult challenge due to the involvement of the mortal aspect of Death – thought to be the sole remaining neutral aspect.
Meanwhile, a young soldier named Micol deserts the army after his first taste of battle. When he ends up in the besieged city of Vicrum, he finds himself embroiled with a group of outlaws. Thrust into a world of thieves and rebels, he must confront his deepest fears and make a decision that will change his life forever.
Death’s Reckoning is a page-turning epic fantasy for fans of ensemble casts and character-driven plot twists, with echoes of Steven Erikson’s Malazan series. Join these mortals as they wield god-like power in a world where even the noblest intentions can lead to destruction.
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Excerpt
Micol’s blood ran cold. He closed his eyes, concentrating on taking deep breaths. Please don’t let them see us, he prayed to Loss. Please, let them pass by. It’s not supposed to end like this. Please.
Another man stepped into view. Then a third. Their conversation continued, but Micol couldn’t focus on the words. He was too busy listening to the growing sounds of movement around them. The pounding boots and squelching mud hinted at a larger force than the three men who had already passed, although he could only guess at how much larger.
At least a half dozen more came into view, most of them near Asoka’s hiding place. The three who’d led the way were nearly out of sight; Micol could barely see their torches through the thick trees. To his left, a glint of light caught his eyes. When he followed it to its source, he nearly collapsed.
Silvery-blue armor covered the woman from head to toe, flowing around her like water. Every inch of skin was covered, leaving only a pair of thin slits for her eyes. She was close enough to Micol to touch. His entire body began to shake, demanding action.
He couldn’t be still anymore. His every fiber screamed one word: escape. He had to get out, but there was nowhere to go. The beating of his heart raged thunderous in his ears until it felt like the sound alone would betray him. Cold sweat beaded on his fevered skin. The aspect’s head swung in his direction.
Micol tried to bolt from the tree – away from the aspect – but she reacted faster than he would have thought possible. Her hand snapped out, stopping his momentum and taking the pair of them to the ground. He managed to twist in time to see her liberating a rusted dagger from its sheath.
From out of sight, he heard the groan of a bowstring. The aspect’s dagger plunged toward his chest, but before it could strike the tip of an arrow spiked through one of the slits in her helm. Its force pushed her off him, and Micol took his chance. He was on his feet in an instant, running away from the group of soldiers.
He met Asoka’s wide-eyed stare; the other boy still held his bow in a ready position. Time stood still for a solitary moment before Micol broke the contact.
Bodies thudded; wood cracked from out of Micol’s view. “Got him!” he heard someone say. “He doesn’t look like an assassin to me.”
Micol kept running. He heard the footsteps of several men behind him, but he didn’t dare stop to check their progress.
“Get the other one!” someone else shouted.
“Over there! He’s headed toward the undergrowth!”
Micol fell into a row of dense bushes, forcing himself through. Branches and thorns tore at his skin and clothes, but he paid them little mind. The men chasing him reached the bushes a moment after he broke through the other side.
His days on the streets of Vicrum came back to him, lessons born from a thousand beatings doled out by those older and larger.There was always someone faster, someone stronger. But Micol had had one advantage: he was willing to go further. A path ahead promised easy escape, but instead of heading for it he plunged deeper into the undergrowth.
A thick root tripped Micol, sending him toppling head-over-heels down a stream bed. He hissed as a flare of pain shot up from his ankle; he inched toward the running water, but a sound came a moment later that stopped him cold.
“Micol!” a distant voice cried. Asoka’s voice. “Help! Please help me!” The pitiful cry was like an icy knife plunged into his lungs.
He didn’t make it out, Micol thought. I didn’t even stop to think about helping him escape. He rose to his knees, taking stock of the situation. He’d lost his bow when the aspect had taken him, which left the small hunting knife on his belt as his only weapon.
“Help! Oh, aspects, please!”
Micol knew what he was supposed to do. The stories soldiers shared were full of such scenarios; if he had been the hero in one of those stories, he would have drawn his knife and carved a path of blood back to his friend to save him. The men searching for him were getting close, and he knew he had to make his decision soon.
A sound like an axe hitting a tree echoed through the forest, sending a morbid shiver down Micol’s spine. He summoned all of his courage, but it wasn’t enough. He turned back to the stream and jumped in, letting the water carry him away.
About the Author
Quinn Thomas is an Epic Fantasy author and occasional pool shark from Denver, Colorado. When she’s not writing stories about people thrust into situations that turn them into heroes (or more frequently, villains), she’s wrestling her 100-lb labrador retriever. Her favorite fantasy series is Mistborn by Brandon Sanderson.
Things Quinn has tried exactly once and wants to mention because she thinks they make her seem cool: skydiving, surfing, paddle-boarding, yoga.
Things Quinn has tried several times and wants to mention because they make her seem less cool: eating Cheetos on the couch while wearing yoga pants, tripping on her own feet, singing karaoke songs completely sober.
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The cover is amazing! Author, At what point do you think someone should call themselves a writer?
How did you decide on the book cover?