Larriane Wills a.k.a. Larion Wills

    A two hundred year old prophecy turned him into the hunted.
                                                        
                         

Garran, marked at birth to be hunted. Words from a two hundred year old prophecy twisted by those seeking power make him a threat to their enemies. All his life he has known of the hunters who would kill him to prevent the fulfillment of the prophecy. Knowing death always searches for him, he denies his attraction to Fayahstella and leaves her to her fate. He rejects Miranna’s offers of love.
    Fayahstella, was cursed by blood and station to be defenseless against being used as a pawn by court and religion.  Her destiny is one only of tragedy when Caslock evades her country for she would choose dead before becoming his bride.  
    Miranna, once was of the privileged, reduced to servant when she appears in Garran’s life.  She offers her love without restraint or conditions and fights to break through the barriers he has placed around him.

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Excerpt 1

For two years they held together, the boy often left alone while the man went off in secret. Not one kind word was ever given to the boy by the man, and any gifts he gave to the boy, just as the lessons he taught, were given more to benefit the man than the boy, until the last. The man tossed a small purse to the boy after setting him on the ground at a crossroads.  
    “We’ve been together too long,” the man grumbled. “You’ve size enough to pass for ten and six. Go lose yourself by enlisting as apprentice in the army of Amor. Sign yourself as orphan of Ives. They’ll not be able to verify even if they’ve a mind to with all those fleeing from Ives. The killing there will serve well as reason for the hate in your eyes that you care not to disguise.”
    The man pulled his horse around and trotted off; leading the horse the boy had ridden.  No good-bye came from him and no thank you from the boy who was quickly growing into a man. The dark eyes the man had spoken of held no tears, only the anger and hatred that never left them. The boy watched the man until he was out of sight. While he watched, he took two coins from the purse for his pocket. The purse he hid in his boot; then he took up his pack and began to walk.
    Because two names were required for enlisting, he became Garran of Lockmer.

 

#2
    "A company of twenty palace guards, her caravan, a coach, and two wagons."
    "This is how they travel in secrecy?" Garran retorted sarcastically. "A caravan alone is as big as a house." He pushed out of the tight fit of his chair, a hand on each wooden arm. The right arm wobbled dangerously before his weight left it, bringing a fresh flash to his dark eyes. He stopped as he paced to gaze out of the double glass-paned doors that led to a garden. "She flees Ives where her own army can not defend her, leads them here, where we have no army at all, and asks for sanctuary?"
    "Our small company will for certain stand little chance of defending against Caslock."
    "Nor will they be endangered so," Garran promised darkly.
    "Is not Caslock's invasion of Amor but a matter of time? Is that not why you plan evacuation?"
    "Aye and her presence here may will bring them too soon," Garran stated with a hard look to his face.
    He turned to gaze at Evemet with an intensity that would have made any man squirm.  That gaze had held Evemet uncomfortably the first few times he had found himself under the dark, stony stare till he learned that most often the thoughts behind those eyes were not for him.
    "Time is our need," Garran said finally, "and to discover how much time we have will be to our benefit. She is here. We will make use of her to gain both. Bid her welcome, and keep a messenger at the ready. If Caslock believes−"
    "You would bargain with Caslock?" Evemet exclaimed. He immediately altered his tone. They had served together for fifteen years, friends as well as fellow soldiers, but Garran was still his superior officer despite being younger, though his exact age was unknown. "Forgive me, Commander, but you can not mean this. 'Tis well known Caslock's bargains bind only as long as suits him."
    "Negotiations may well supply our need for time to make ready. For Caslock to gain genuine title to the throne of Ives, he must have the princess in marriage, though invasion of Amor to pursue her may not be yet in his plans. Choose two of our best scouts. I must know if Caslock's troops mass or only a small party follows, or if any follow at all. He may well name his self king without the bother of being encumbered by an unwilling queen.  If in truth he wants her so he will have the true title of king, a promise of easy access to her in exchange for Caslock's quick retreat without causing any damage here may well serve us."
    "You would turn her over?"
    "I speak of maneuvering for time," Garran answered tartly. "But if a choice is to be made, my duty is to Sheritan."

#3

The act of simply walking through a door was a challenge because of her clothing. Her elaborate gown and underskirts circled out around her in at least a four-foot circle and dragged behind her in a train, all of such bulk it was hard to imagine a person beneath them. Her headdress towered over her head with feathers and golden chains of charms that reached above the lintel. Beneath the headdress, a shroud covered her head and shoulders with a small panel of sheer fabric across her eyes that enabled her to see, although one would guess her vision was severely limited. The clothing was too wide and too tall to pass through the opening of the single door width, an occurrence that apparently was completely foreign to the three ladies attending. As the princess moved forward, two pushed at her skirts to force them through the door, and the third lady frantically grabbed and held the headdress as the feathers caught at the top of the door, pushing the headdress backwards and twisting the shroud askew. Once through the door, the princess stood still as a statue while the ladies straightened her gown, train, shroud, and headdress. When the preening was done, she continued to stand, making no attempt to move into the room.
    Garran and Evemet had received only a few hastily spoken words from the messenger as guidance in what was expected of them. They had been told not to approach her and not to speak till she gave them leave to do so. So Garran and Evemet did not move or speak. Likewise, the princess did not speak or move. Nor did the ladies behind her.
    As the seconds passed, Evemet said from the side of his mouth, "Mayhaps something is expected of us."
    "You will forgive me, my Princess," a male voice said from behind the women and a dark shape slithered through the door. He wore a black, heavy silk cassock and moved forward His movements were so controlled in mincing little steps beneath the folds of his garment that the gold link chain around his waist with a cross of Oldspushner hanging from it barely moved, and the skirt of his garment didn't move at all giving the impression he glided. He stopped a few feet from Garran, and his hooded eyes flickered over the governor's plain, gray uniform in distaste.
    Garran had stiffened at the sight of him and set his jaw firmly. Beside him Evemet, who knew well the signs of Garran's anger, drew a breath and held it.
    "You will kneel," the priest ordered.
    "I will not," Garran returned coldly.

#4

What Caslock thought of what Bashsay had done was difficult to tell. He looked over Garran's limp body, the back bloodied from the cuts from the whip and the three bloody patches of raw flesh on his leg, while he walked by and ducked beneath the rope holding Garran on his knees.
    "You're skinning him?" Caslock asked causally, though his insides trembled in rage.
    Bashsay's fingers rubbed the one patch of skin he still held. "He will, afore he dies, cry out to Oldspushner to save him from more agony."
    "He is not of your religion then?" he queried in what sounded like mild curiosity. "This is the man you were going to take captive— with my assistance− once the surrender of Sheritan was done?"
    "He is…" Bashsay broke off and looked at Caslock with narrowed eyes. "You seem undisturbed by events."
    "Undisturbed?" He gave a short laugh and signaled his men to leave them. Once alone he continued. "Why should I be disturbed, priest, when the princess you promised me is missing?"
    "She is in her chambers sleeping," he said in dismissal. "I looked afore I came outside."
    "The lump upon her bed is of empty clothing," Caslock said mildly, but when Bashsay startled and his mouth dropped open, Caslock's expression and tone changed. "The scheme you presented me with has little chance of succeeding without the royal blood, yet not only are you unaware she is gone, you have done nothing to retrieve her. Your twisting of words to suit a new revelation that I am Atat Comm will give me little benefit without her. I can denounce the sisters and dedicate my life to Oldspushner without your aid as well."
    Bashsay's eyes had shifted around and various emotions played over his face while Caslock spoke. "Without my sanction you will never be accepted as anything more than pretender," he said with a false lack of concern. "You have sent troops in search of her?"
     "Unlike you, I am competent," Caslock retorted. "If they do not find her, what devious scheme does your mind conceive?"
    "Bound by the mountains it will be but a matter of time afore your troops overtake them." Bashsay answered evasively. He had not yet thought past the moment to devise a new plan.
    "And if they have killed her?"
    "Why would they do so?"
    Caslock pointed at Garran. "Mayhaps you should have asked why they would even take her. Oh, but then you did not know she was gone. I am not happy with our alliance, priest, and begin to doubt the importance of needing marriage to the princess or your sudden revelations to prove I am Atat Comm."
    "Do you believe you are?" Bashsay asked in amazement.
    "Do I not match the description given in the scriptures?"
    "Hundreds can," he answered in derision.
    "Hundreds have not united the countries under one leader," Caslock shot back. "Do I not bear the mark of a star on my shoulder? Am I not superior of mind and body? Do I not come from the north regions of Transe and know of the Treach teachings?"
    "You are not from the loins of the King's blood," Bashsay said shrewdly. "You need a new interpretation of the scripture to accomplish a way around that, and, most importantly, to remove the warning of the scriptures against Atat Comm. You may be unhappy with our alliance, but you need me still to fulfill your desire to be named god in human form."
    "Nay, priest, though it would be easier for recognition of my destiny, I can do so on my own and will do so when I take the throne of Ives." He raised Garran's head with a hand cupped under his chin and shook it slightly. Garran's eyelids fluttered. "As I thought, you are awake enough to hear. Do you feel honored to be the first to kneel afore Atat Comm?"
    Garran, who hovered on the edges of darkness, heard the words, but did not answer. The darkness he felt within him, he knew, was death lurking to claim him. He would not fight the beast coming to take him, for in his mind he also knew the beast would be mercy. Caslock spoke again.
    "Stay away from this man, priest."
    "He is mine," Bashsay cried.
    "He was, but you kill him too quickly. Now he is mine, and I will teach you how to make a man suffer. Until the princess is found, dead or alive, he is the only one in our hands that knows what has happened here." Caslock dropped Garran's head, ducked under the rope and went to the door to call for his physician.

#5

  "Our way of life. We live in harmony and balance with the Gifts of He Who Is All."
           "Gifts?"
            She smiled indulgently. "The plants, the animals, the flowers, the sun that shines, the rain that falls, all to give, all to receive to create harmony, the sweet song of living in balance with all that surrounds us. We use the Gifts of Being to restore harmony of body, spirit, and soul for all is one. 'Tis not magic, only the knowing. As the body restores, the others will follow in balance."
            Evemet's voice was a bare whisper. "Do you know him?"
          She shook her head. "I was but a small child when they took him. I urge caution in who you speak to of these things for there are those who wish harm to the son of Notara."
            "Who?" Hotter demanded. "And why?"
            "The priests," Evemet answered.
            She tipped her head in agreement. "Had not Caslock taken him, he would have been long dead."
            "Why?" Hotter repeated, but the hostility ebbed from his tone and manner.
           "These are matters best left unsaid for to speak of them brings attention. I say no more than that Priest Bashsay knew him as the son of Notara."
        She stood to end the conversation, but it was far from forgotten in Evemet's mind.  Foremost was something that had nagged at him from the moment he saw the marks on the older women's foreheads. They were artificial, placed there by design. But he had seen a similar mark, one given by nature at birth on Garran's right leg, just above the ankle. He had relied on using that mark to quickly identify Garran no matter how severely his face might have been wounded. Instead he'd had to rely on the scar on Garran's shoulder and the mark from the lancing of the gulfa wound. The star-shaped mark on Garran's right leg had been cut out and the skin peeled away.

#6

"A leader of superior mind and body who would reunite the old religion, a descendant of the House of Saltan and the House of Transe. Atat Comm will−"
        Garran cut him off. "Atat Comm is but a story twisted by word of mouth." 
        "A false prophecy," Traval corrected, "clearly stated in the book of Vass, but the Sisters of Treach twist the words in a plot to reclaim their glory in the old religion. Of importance is the belief now." He waited for a response to come. When none did, he asked, "Is your mother not of the House of Transe? A priestess of the Sisters of Treach? Is your age not thirty and three, not the thirty and five one would assume from your time in service?  Are you not the of the King's blood? Was it not the mark of a star Bashsay had cut from your leg?"
        Garran's voice went cold as ice when he answered the last question. "Bashsay had several patches of flesh peeled away, promising none would be left long afore I died.  Fortunately for me, the man doing the cutting did not go deep enough to cripple, and Caslock took me afore Bashsay could see it done."
        Traval moaned and held his stomach. "What you have suffered turns me ill, Garran, but do not use my guilt for distraction."
        Garran tried. "Guilt, Vermont? For what you did not tell me of the bargain Amor made for Sheritan with Caslock?"
        "Was there a mark of a star?" Traval demanded.
        "Do you ask now for king or Atat Comm?"
        "King, for Atat Comm, as you say, is a nothing more than a false story." Traval dismissed it with a flick of his hand. "What is of importance is the birth mark. You can be king."
    "Were I the one you seek, I would present me self not as son but executioner," Garran hissed. "You do not know the depths of my hatreds or their cause. Nor do you know my desires better than me self. Not all men dream of being kings."
         "Nay," Traval said quietly, "some do not."
        "Does our conversation alter your agreement for aid?"
    "Nay, you have given your word to serve as her protector above all else. I will make arrangements immediately. Will you answer me one question? What do you desire for your future?"
        "I have no future."
        "That can not be so. Were you content in Sheritan?"
        "For a time," Garran admitted gruffly.
        "Aye, Caslock brought great tragedy," Traval said sadly. "Though you are not a believer, Garran, I will pray for your future."

www.historicalromanceclub.com    Winner of Reviews Choice Award only granted to stories that stand out from the crowd, and leave you wanting more.

Ms. Wills has a knack for keeping her reader on the edge of the cliff and not letting out too much information too soon.  This was a very satisfying read and this reviewer hopes to enjoy more of this talented writer’s work soon.
http://loveromancesandmore.com/reviews/Dec07/knowing_valerie.html

 A fast paced story, which is difficult to put down.  Thoroughly enjoyable, leaving me wanting more stories with these characters.  Please, may I have some more?  
 http://themusebookreviews.tripod.com/id108.html 
http://www.armchairinterviews.com/reviews/categories/science_fictionfantasy/the_knowing.php

  TCM Reviews: Completely enjoyable. I have already recommended this one to my friends and family. http://tcm-ca.com/reviews/1529.html

. Larriane Wills did a great job of immersing me into Garran’s world. I’m looking forward to reading more by Larriane Wills:
 http://www.readerviews.com/ReviewWillsTheKnowing.html