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Dayn glimpsed only a fleeting impression of rock hurtling toward him, wreathed in fire and dark smoke. Searing wind slammed into his body. The force flung him end over end, pelting him with shattered pieces of the cliff. The fragments glanced harmlessly from his seal-protected limbs in blinding flashes of light. He curled behind his forearms and shins as best he could while gouts of rock from the cliff wall mushroomed in every direction. The explosion propelled him away from the heartrock in a wave of boulders and choking dust.
Something cracked Dayn’s head and silver discs speckled his vision. Pain lanced his upper arms and chest, tearing sleeves and skin alike. Another blow glanced off his collarbone just shy of a snapped bone. The tiny fragments needling his body made him painfully aware of every inch of skin not covered in sealer. After whatever the men did to Shard’s heart, the explosions pushed him away from the heartrock with dizzying speed.
A firm mass thudded into Dayn’s back, stunning him. He twisted around to discover a slab of smoking rock wider around than he could reach. Instinctively, Dayn kicked against it. His momentum shifted immediately, and he angled on a new path through the rock. For the first time since losing his rope, Dayn could control where he moved.
Up, he thought. I need to go up!
Dayn began to hurdle clumsily, twisting and pushing to direct himself. He leaped and pushed through the debris, like a frog crossing a flooded river. The air cooled. Stars?blessed stars?were visible above! He was closer to the surface than he could hope for, but feared the rock would carry him past it, maybe even off his world completely and into the void.
He focused on the stars, and finding the cliffside. He kicked off a nearby boulder as big as a house as it sailed past him. The angle put him crossways to the main flow of rock. Fresh explosions thundered out of the Dreadfall’s maw below him.
Dayn slammed into a mass that did not budge. He clung to it with all of his strength, feeling the cold rock of a cliff wall scrape his face.
“I did it,” he breathed. “I did it.” Shadow raced toward him, retaking the cliff walls as the sun below passed away from the Dreadfall. Cold swept in as the light vanished. The world reeled, and a terrible thundering made him lift his head in time to see broken stone and debris crashing its way back down the Dreadfall. Shard no longer let it float free, he could feel the difference in her ground. Blood and sweat covered his body, and pain gouged him from every direction.
Dayn knew he should begin climbing, but exhaustion kept his legs from moving. He heard water flowing swiftly from somewhere behind the cliff wall. He knew that meant something urgent, but the ringing in his ears refused to let him ferret out why. Another thought soon replaced it.
“So that’s what coursing feels like.” His voice sounded mangled to his own ears. A sickly pungent odor was the last thing Dayn remembered before darkness took him.
About the Author
If imagination was a mutant power, DaVaun Sanders could have enrolled at 1407 Graymalkin Lane. Instead, he went the safe route and earned a Bachelor's degree from Washington University in St. Louis in 2002. He eventually acquiesced to the student loan gods and took up architecture in Phoenix. Yet his passion for the field faded as he spent more free time writing and performing spoken word poetry.
The Seedbearing Prince began as a dream vivid enough to play like a movie trailer. Deciding to write the debut novel took some time, as it wasn't part of "The Plan," but the housing market collapse forced DaVaun's small design firm under in 2008. He decided to plunge into writing full-time, and is loving every minute of it. When the keyboard cramps his fingers, DaVaun gets lost in the great outdoors of Arizona or hits up open mic spots in the Valley. He responds to email from fans, but postcards are even better!
DaVaun is currently hard at work editing Part II of The Seedbearing Prince. Follow him on Google Plus, Twitter and Facebook for updates and giveaways!
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