About the
Book:
Title:
THE MOREVA OF ASTORETH
Author: Roxanne Bland
Publisher: Blackrose Press
Pages: 607
Genre: Science Fiction
Author: Roxanne Bland
Publisher: Blackrose Press
Pages: 607
Genre: Science Fiction
Moreva Tehi, scientist,
healer, priestess of the Goddess of Love and three-quarters god, is a
bigot. She hates the hakoi who are the Temple’s slaves. When she
misses an important ritual because the enslaved hakoi are
participants, her grandmother, the Goddess Astoreth, punishes her by
exiling her for a year from her beloved southern desert home to the
far north village of Mjor in the Syren Perritory, (where the hakoi
are free) to steward Astoreth’s landing beacon. But Astoreth
forbids her from taking with her scientific research on red fever, a
devastating scourge that afflicts the hakoi. She does so, anyway.
The first Mjoran she meets is
Laerd Teger, the hakoi chief of the village, who appears to hate her.
She also meets Hyme, the hakoi village healer, and much to Moreva
Tehi’s surprise, they form a fast friendship. This friendship
forces her to set upon a spiritual journey to confront her bigotry.
While doing so, she falls in love with Laerd Teger, who returns her
love. She eventually has a revelation about the meaning of love, and
rids herself of her bigotry. And she develops a cure for red fever,
and is the first healer to do so.
But there is a price for her
love for Laerd Teger, and that is her certain execution by the
Goddess Astoreth upon her return home because she has broken her
sacred vows. But then, through Laerd Teger, she learns a terrible
secret about her gods, that they are not gods at all, but aliens, and
rather than being part god, she is part alien. Her world destroyed,
she turns on Laerd Teger for showing her the truth. They eventually
reconcile. But there is still the problem about her love for Laerd
Teger. Astoreth will know what she has done and will execute her. She
formulates a plan, involving the erasure of her memory, in which she
will bargain for her life by giving Astoreth the formula for red
fever. Astoreth agrees. For breaking her vows and disobeying a direct
order not to take her red fever research to Mjor, Astoreth strips her
of her morevic status and exiles her again to Mjor. Back in Mjor, she
recovers her memory and sends the red fever formula to Astoreth. Now
freed from the constraints of being a Moreva, Tehi and Teger embark
on a new life together.
For More Information
- The Moreva of Astoreth is available at Amazon.
- Discuss this book at PUYB Virtual Book Club at Goodreads.
Book Excerpt:
The
airship landed on its pad. After the pilot, a Devi lesser god, gave
the “all clear” I stepped out the machine onto the stone slab and
walked away.
The trip
to the Syren Perritory had been awful. I’d never flown in a Devi
airship, and I was sick the entire time. Seeing my distress, the
pilot took pity on me and handed me a bag. I promptly threw up into
it. Then he turned in his seat and peered at my face. Reaching behind
him, he handed me a stack of bags. I took one and vomited into that,
too. Two bags later, I thought I’d finally be all right. Then we
flew into something the pilot called turbulence. Despite its
leviathan size, the airship was buffeted about, and I was sure we
would die. I picked up another bag. I don’t know how many bags I
used.
At
long last, we reached our destination. Even during our descent, I
could see the landing beacon. A colossus, the beacon sat on its tower
of white kyrolite, its stationary dish resembling a silver flame in
the twin sunslight. On the ground, I could see alongside the tower
two late-model tanks. Dwarfed by the tower’s size, they looked
insignificant.
After
getting off the airship, I walked toward a large group of people
standing in the distance. I took in the place where I would stay for
the next year. All I saw was a wall of grayish-black stone, with two
huge and closed stone doors set in its middle. At least eighty šīzu
high, the wall was crenelated at the top with deep, narrow slits. A
steep-pitched roof partially covered it. Two towers, much smaller and
shorter than the beacon, anchored the wall at each end. A short,
covered kyrolite bridge beneath its roof connected the top of the
smaller tower on the right to the beacon. On the ground, the tower
was connected to the beacon itself. I straightened my neck and looked
directly ahead. Next to the fortress, the enormous beacon tower
looked out of place.
I reached
the first of three people standing out from all the rest. Morevi
Eresh, the morev who’d been on duty for the past year, stood before
the garrison. Eresh and I couldn’t have looked more different. His
skin was three shades lighter than my medium-hued, blue-violet Devi
coloring. He had long, tight curls like mine but whereas mine were
white—like the Devi—his were black. He was tall and slender like
all morevs, except me. I had the jutting breasts, small waist and
flaring hips of the Devi, but instead of being statuesque like them,
I was short.
I liked
Eresh. He was funny and irreverent, unlike the rest of the morevs
serving the Temple. He was my best friend. He was my only friend. I’d
missed him terribly.
The
forty-one person garrison stood at attention. Wearing a solemn
expression, Eresh placed his hands together, palm to palm. I did the
same. We gave each other a deep bow. “Moreva Tehi, may the Most
Holy One turn Her face to you.”
“And to
you, Morevi Eresh.”
Our
formal greeting accomplished, Eresh smiled a little. “Welcome to
the Syren Perritory and the Mjor village.” Then he turned to a
blue-uniformed hakoi standing a step behind him. “This is your
second in command, Kepten Yose.”
I nodded
once. “Kepten.” Kepten Yose was short, too, but not as short as
me.
“Moreva
Tehi.” He inclined his head and clicked his heels, a proper
military salute to a superior officer. “Garrison ready for
inspection, Moreva.”
I looked
sideways at Eresh, who gave me a nod. “Very well, Kepten. Lead the
way.”
We walked
along the ten orderly rows of four troops each. They looked straight
ahead, their eyes never veering from whatever it was they were
looking at. Craning my neck, I peered into their faces. They were
blank, but there was something in the eyes I couldn’t place, a look
the hakoi in Uruk didn’t have. I wondered about it for a moment,
then dismissed it. It was probably my imagination. At least they
didn’t smell.
Inspection
completed, I turned to meet my host. My gaze, starting at his brown
fur vest-covered midriff, slowly traveled up, and up some more. He
was the biggest hakoi I’d ever seen. His muscular shoulders looked
as broad as the mountains that surrounded us. His skin, deep bronze,
wasn’t like that of the Kherah hakoi, who were pale. His long,
thick golden hair, ruffled by the breeze, was the same shade as the
third, summer sun. He had light-colored brows—almost white—and a
short beard of the same color. But it was his eyes that intrigued me
most. All the hakoi I’d ever known had brown eyes. His eyes were
blue, like the stars, and just as cold.
I didn’t
like him. Judging by his scowl, he didn’t like me, either.
About the
Author
Roxanne Bland grew up in
Washington, D.C., where she discovered strange and wonderful new
worlds through her local public library and bookstores. These and
other life experiences have convinced her that reality is highly
overrated. Ms. Bland lives in Rosedale, Maryland with her Great Dane,
Daisy Mae.
For More
Information
No comments:
Post a Comment