City of Demons

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Authors: Kevin Harkness

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Praise for
City of Demons
:


City of Demons
is a fast-paced page turner of a fantasy novel, with rich characters, vivid, evocative settings and a deep vein of universal truth. Bullied by a brutal father, Garet yearns for a life that matters. When their farm is attacked, he must face his new destiny. His quest to defeat the demons, both within and without, that stand in his way sweeps the reader along on a wild ride. The writing is infused with emotional intensity and a deep understanding of human nature.
City of Demons
marks the debut of a fresh, new voice in fantasy writing.”

Wendy Phillips, Governor General's Literary Award winning author of
Fishtailing


The door latch started to rise, pushed up by a long, curved blade slid between the door and the jamb. The latch cleared its hook, and the door opened a crack. The thin blade was joined by three others, and Garet saw that they were not knives; they were a set of claws, attached to a bony, mottled arm.

And for Garet, a change comes. Forced to leave the isolated farm where he has grown up with a cruel father, he must travel beyond the mountains that have been–in his lifetime–borders of safety. But the world beyond is filled with the terrifying and the new: demons, whose power is Fear.

Garet reveals an ability with demons, and is chosen to become a Bane, a demon-fighter. But being chosen does not make the training or the task any easier. His tutor, a young woman named Salick, and the small company of Banes become family, and they make their way to a new city, and a new life.

City of Demons
is a terrific debut novel. Lock the doors before you set out on this journey. Pick it up and turn the pages, and be pulled in by that bony, mottled arm. You will not put it down again.”

Alison Acheson, author of
Molly's Cue

City of Demons: A Novel

Published by Tyche Books Ltd.

www.TycheBooks.com

Copyright 2012 by Kevin Harkness.

Print ISBN: 978-0-9878248-4-4

Ebook ISBN: 978-0-9878248-5-1

First Printing: 2012

Cover Art by Malcolm McClinton

Cover Layout and Map by Lucia Starkey

Interior Artwork by Galen Dara

Interior Layout by Tina Moreau

Editorial by M. L. D. Curelas

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the copyright holder, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.

The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third party websites or their content.

These stories are works of fiction. All of the characters, organizations and events portrayed in each story are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

The Map

Acknowledgments

1:  The Unexpected Hero

2:  Strangers at the Gate

3:  Out of the Hills

4:  The Demon Jewel

5:  Lessons

6:  An Unfriendly Wager

Basher Demon

7:  Old Torrick

8:  A Change of Masters

9:  The Falls

10: Symbols and Stars

11: Demons and the Dead

Shrieker Demon

12: Shirath

13: The Palace Plaza

14: A New Life

15: City Lessons

16: A Change in Circumstances

Glider Demon

17: New Freedoms, New Problems

18: The Mechanicials

19: Plots and Swords

20: Meetings and Mysteries

21: Claws in the Night

22: The Banehall Besieged

Digger Demon

23: A New Hallmaster

24: The King's Chambers

25: Swords In the Banehall

26: The Caller's Claws

27: The Temple

Author Biography

This book is dedicated to my wife, Cecilia, and my son, Thomas, for their support and love; to the three muses: Wendy, Karen, and Jenny for their inspiration; to Alison Acheson for her advice; to Margaret Curelas and Tina Moreau of Tyche Books for trusting their luck; and to all the writers and all the readers.

~ Kevin Harkness

“Get up, you lazy pigs!”

The words, which came out as “Geryupyalazpigs,” crashed through Garet's sleeping brain. He stiffened and cracked open one eye. His father's own eyes glared back at him over the top rung of the ladder. Garet kept still and squeezed his eyelid down to the limits of secret sight. With a sour grunt, his father climbed down from the sleeping loft to transfer his loud ill-wishes to his wife.

He would have to be extra careful around his father today.

Garet was always careful around Hilly. The big man so obviously disliked his youngest son that Garet had once asked his mother if Hilly was really his father. He had been too young then to realize the insulting nature of the question, but his mother had merely sighed and pointed out that although Garet had a thick head of hair as black as her own and had a smaller build compared to his older brothers, who had all seemed determined to catch up to their father in girth and height as soon as possible, he still possessed his father's grey eyes and high cheek-bones, as well as, she said dryly, a certain stubbornness—especially when facing a difficult problem.

Garet shook his head at recalling this conversation. Everyday was a problem, made bearable only by the presence of his mother and sister in this rough farmhouse. With his father safely out of reach, he pushed back the itchy blanket and sat up. After a stretch and a tug at his hair, cut short and roughly, for the shears were the same ones they would use to trim the sheep in the spring, he put his bare feet into his shoes, feeling the cold floor through a hole in one tattered sole. Something moved near the toe. He hastily pulled the shoe off and shook out a long, green sting-bug that had crawled inside during the night. A shudder ran through him at his close call.

A snicker sounded from across the loft. His older brother Gitel, sliding to the floor from the top bunk, exchanged a knowing look with his twin, Galit, in the bunk below. The two of them laughed their way down the ladder.

Not chance
, Garet thought.
Deliberate
. A sting from the fierce little insect, now hissing on the floor, would not have gotten him off work today. No, his father would not put up with such “laziness” and “wool gathering” for a mere sting. But the pain from his swollen foot would have made each step a torment until well after the sun dropped behind the western hills.

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