Fields of Wrath

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Returning to the Norse-inspired realm of Baern, the second book in the thrilling Renshai saga continues the tale of three warriors brothers….

With the Great War over, the Renshai have won back the Fields of Wrath. As the survivors limp homeward, Tae Kahn—Subikahn’s father—fears that a far larger and fiercer wave of enemy soldiers is headed toward them.
 
One Kjempemagiska and an army of their man-sized servants nearly defeated the entire Continent. This time, Tae is certain the ranks will include hundreds of these strong, magical, island-dwelling giants. The only hope for the peoples of the Continent is to regather their war-weary troops and convince the few magical beings of their own world to assist them.
 
It becomes a race against time as Tae, his friends, and his family struggle to convince the Continental generals of the danger; attempt to turn reluctant, antagonistic mages and elves into allies; spy on the giant Kjempemagiska sorcerors; and seek some means to defeat an enemy powerful beyond contemplation.Praise for the Renshai saga:

“Slashing swordplay, a telepathic cat, spirit-sucking spiders, dizzying genealogical complications, and three warrior brothers all lend depth and sparkle to Reichert’s latest installment of her immense Renshai Chronicles saga…. Reichert’s handsomely fleshed-out world and animated characters make her latest book an entertaining and philosophical journey with glimmers of sorcery from mages and elves that foreshadow further Renshai adventures.” —Publishers Weekly (starred)

“The Last of the Renshai is rich in incident, action, and folkloric expertise … above-average worldbuilding.” —Chicago Sun-Times

“Very strong…. There are wonderful elements that make this novel special…. It’s an excellent read.” —Locus

“[Reichert] draws her characters realistically and uses the wizards believably. She has created a very real world…. Readers who love sword-and-war-type fantasy will keep turning the pages, spellbound.” —VOYA

“A master’s touch for provoking curiosity from the reader and drawing dynamic characters.” —Rave Reviews (now Romantic Times)

“The Renshai Chronicles had an interesting basis in Nordic myth and legend, and the Renshai were exciting warriors out of legend.” —Grasping for the WindMickey Zucker Reichert is a pediatrician, parent, animal lover, and author of twenty-some novels including Renshai, Nightfall, Barakhai, and Bifrost series, one illustrated novella, and fifty-plus short stories. She can be found at mickeyzuckerreichert.com.

SAVIAR RA-KHIRSSON TOOK the castle stairs two at a time, rushing past servants and guardsmen, a sword on each hip. Strawberry-blond hair, still wet from his bath, streamed wildly around his young features. He had doffed his blood-soaked battle clothes for a fresh tunic and breeks, had slept off the exhaustion of a hard-fought war, and finally felt clean enough to face his darling.
In his haste, Saviar nearly skidded into two Béarnian guardsmen who stood, spears crossed, in front of Chymmerlee’s door. To their credit, they remained firmly in place despite the muscular Renshai careening toward them, their expressions grim. Both wore standard blue and gold, with the rearing bear symbol of the high kingdom on their tabards. Saviar thought he saw a hint of fear in one’s deep brown eyes.

An instant before collision, Saviar rescued himself with an agile sidestep. “Sorry,” he said, smiling to put them at ease. “I just came to see Chymmerlee.”

“We’re under orders,” the larger one said. “You cannot enter.”

Saviar accepted the formality easily. As the son of a Knight of Erythane, he had become accustomed to much more extensive and oppressive decorum. Only the Knights knew how to turn even the most marvelous feast into tedium. “Tell her it’s Saviar. She’ll see me.”

“Begging your pardon.” Though smaller than his fellow, the other guard still had greater mass than Saviar and the majority of men in the Westlands. Most Béarnides did. “But you, specifically, cannot enter.”

“Me? Specifically?” The words caught Saviar completely off his guard. The united armies of the continent had just won a massive war, in no small part because of Chymmerlee’s magic and his own sword arm. She had doted on him since the moment his twin had led her to him, comatose, blood poisoned by a festering wound. She had saved his life and nursed him through his recovery. Later, they had held hands, laughed together, even kissed. She alone of her people had accompanied them to the war, the only mage who had assisted in a battle of epic proportions. It made no sense for Chymmerlee to turn her back on him now. “You must be mistaken. Can you please just tell her I’m here? She’ll see me.”

The Béarnides glanced at one another, the somberness of their expressions never changing. Their spears remained in place. The first speaker cleared his throat. “There is no reason to ask. It is by Chymmerlee’s own orders that we are barring you . . . and your twin.”

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