Frank Tuttle ~ The Broken Bell
From: Samhain Publishing

Frank Tuttle is just one of those quiet authors from Samhain on my auto-buy list and if you are not reading The Markhat Files you ought to be. Frank is also one of the few really good writers out there I never see over exposing themselves on the internet with promotion. What ever is done is always top notch and well thought out much like Frank’s covers.

REFRESHING!

Otherwise Frank seems to be all about keeping the pen to the grindstone and putting out good book after good book.

I wish more authors did that.

MIMA ~ Wild Within (Bonded Fantasy 1)
From: Liquid Silver Books

Yet it had been two days now and she had not been able to get a coherent word out of Rylan since. She was terrified, furious, that it was too late. Now she sat in this winter cold room that was Rylan’s latest shak, a poor one as he struggled between sicknesses.Her eyes drifted over the cracked walls, the gaps and the chips, the rough clay floor. It is empty of more than the belongings I’ve sold for fresh water and food, she thought. This life of ours is dead, and this key is going to pick the lock of the Beast caves.

She wrestled Rylan into a pair of thick pants, a tunic, and a sweater she’d been using as his pillow. She was rough, glad when she shook him awake. She was panting as she finished wrapping his belt on and tying his warclub to it. She stuffed his feet into boots and stood glaring down at him.

“I’m leaving. If you want to live, get up and follow me.”

Her words fell hard and cold, but she knew he would heed them. He could not delay any longer. The final chance to decide in favor of life over death was here, and she was confident of his choice, despite how his fear for her had made him wait until his body was at its weakest.

She turned and walked out into the harsh white sun.

She waited outside, leaning against the house. The sun was bright, but not warm enough to heat the adobe. As she waited for him to summon the will to follow her, her mind raced. Free of the burden to convince him to go, she thought again of her weak plan on how she was going to get there. Her only supplies were an oilskin wrapped around her waist with a coil of rope, and sharp throwing stones currently tied around a smaller rope’s ends like a bolo. She had no food, as her stomach growled around the dry heels she’d forced down. But she wouldn’t have gotten this far in life without being able to think on an empty stomach. When Rylan staggered, wheezing, into the doorway, she ducked under his arm to drape it around her shoulders, and they were off, heading due south. South out of the City, and south to find the Beasts.

KarRa and Rylan have been friends since they were children living and thieving together in the slums of a great city. Rylan you see is not human though, he is a Trux, and when he starts getting sick KarRa in desperation decides they must journey to the caves of the beasts where he might be taken in and cured. This will mean that KarRa must go with him and face the dangers of the unknown.

I got this eBook from All Romance eBooks last April in one of their giveaways and fell in love with MIMA’s writing. Here is a fantasy world lush with detail and the deadly Trux warriors with their rituals and culture are strange and mysterious. This is mainly a Straight Romance series but there are several gay scenes that you come across and it looks like the latest book is a flat out Ménage Romance… anyway I really liked this first book so much I went and bought a few more and I just noticed this week there are like 8 books in the series now and I really need to catch up on my reading. In other words MIMA slow down please.

The great thing is that MIMA is a smart writer and has kept each of the books in the series a stand alone story and let’s face the fact that out of nine books it is pretty much a sure thing that you will run into some that will not work for you. So with this series you can start from the beginning and work your way forward or you can just pick and choose the ones that look like something you might enjoy reading and just go for it.

Thank you MIMA for being not only a talented writer but an intelligent one. I wish more writers made more of an effort to write series books as stand alone so the reader does not get bogged down having to slog through a book they would rather not read just to get to one they do.

This first book gets a Grade A for getting me hooked on the series. The whole series in fact is an auto buy for me presently and I will wait till it is through before grading it but so far things are pretty damn awesome.

Thom Lane ~ Dark Heart
From: Loose Id

His fingers traced the ridged lines of the brand high on my arm, and he said, “Tell me, I’m curious: this evening hasn’t made any difference?”
I shrugged, and flinched as even that little movement tugged the skin across my shoulders, waking the fire again; and said, “Master beat me for disobedience. Why would that make a difference? I’m slave, we get beaten all the time…”
“And never apparently learn from it. But that wasn’t what I meant; if the beating had made a difference, I’d beat you again. You’d deserve it.” His weariness showed in his voice as much as his face. As much as he tried to shrug it off, as much as this little distance had helped him, he was still grey with fatigue. Inside and out. Even if his cock was trying to deny it. “What I meant was, you know what I am, you’ve seen what I do. Doesn’t that frighten you?”
“Of course it does, Master.” I was baffled now.
“But you’re still hot to please me, even so? Everyone wants their slaves a little scared, that’s natural, but that performance I put on just now, there’s nothing natural about that. You ought to be cringing away from me, not trying to suck my cock off.”
“Ohhh…” It’s funny, I never thought I’d find myself trying to explain things to a master. Explain things away, yes, sometimes. That never worked. I dropped my head against his thigh, where it was more comfortable to look up at him, and said, “That buck pulling the cart, earlier — the young one?”
Master Lucan frowned, shook his head; he hadn’t noticed.
No reason why he should have done. I went on, “He was new to his collar, freshly branded. Not properly broken yet, only obedient because he’s terrified of his mistress and her whip. She’s a good mistress, she knows how to handle a boy” — and I knew what I was talking about. “Tonight she’ll have her women wash him down and dig all the muck out from under his nails, and she’ll take him to bed. On a chain, so he doesn’t forget what he is. If she ties his hands” — to a ring at the bed-head, say — “that’ll only be because it pleases her to have him helpless, not because she’s afraid of his strength. She’ll take her switch too, because that pleases her too.” And she’d use it too, teasingly or stingingly, any way she fancied. “And she’ll keep him awake all night, she’s very demanding; and she’ll keep him stiff all night too, she’s very…inventive. And he’ll enjoy it, even if he hates himself for doing that.”
Master Lucan had his eyes closed, still waiting to hear the point of this very ordinary story. I might have smiled, as he couldn’t see me; he’d hear it in my voice, though, so I swallowed it down and went on, “Come morning, he’ll understand in a whole new way, just how he belongs to her. And he’ll want more of it, however rough she was with him. But he’ll still be just as terrified of her, and he’ll be right. She’ll use her whip just as freely.”
“Of course.” His voice sounded distant; his mouth twisted lightly, as if even this much thinking was too much. “So what are you saying, that if desire doesn’t overcome the fear, then nor does fear overcome the desire?”
“Yes, Master. I think so. They’re just two separate things. Unless they’re the same thing, and they just have to go together…” What did I know? I was only a slave. All I wanted was his cock in my mouth.
I kissed the inside of his thigh instead, all I could reach, and he smiled thinly. “Poor boy. You just want to do what you’re kept for, what you’re trained for — and that’s not really arguing philosophy, is it?”
His hand drew me forward; I dropped my head into his groin, nuzzling his balls in their sac, his cock as it stiffened. Page 69

It was a dark and stormy night… when the necromancer Master Lucan rides into the guildhouse where Tam the slave boy lives. Master Lucan proceeds to accept a job from the guildmistress and Slave boy Tam becomes his faithful side kick. All this leads to many of your typical BDSM scenes of butt plugs (Is this a contractual requirement?) and whippings and endless kneeling etc etc etc.

The writing in Dark Heart is tight. The world building has depth and the fantasy itself is interesting with all the talking dead people and journeys to hell and demonic dealings and such. As far as that all goes Dark Heart is a fine BDSM Fantasy. But… is it a Romance?

OK let’s compare and contrast this story to my favorite Contemporary BDSM Romance John Preston ~ Mr. Benson and see where there might be a few issues for me the BDSM Romance reading pig…

Both books have the perfect Master with his perfect hair and perfect teeth and both are successful, rich, demanding, responsible men who as the story progresses take on the ownership of a slave.

Both books use mostly the slaves “point of view” relying on them to provide the underlying motivations and context in which to see the story’s progression. So far they are pretty much the same.

The key difference should be obvious to anyone.

One is a Slave Fantasy Erotica and the other a Gay BDSM Contemporary Romance so the difference is in the type of person providing the main point of view…

Jamie in Mr. Benson is your typical modern day horny gay guy cruising a bar on Christopher Street when we meet him who through the entire story slowly, decision by decision, choice by choice, becomes Mr. Benson’s slave.

Tam in Dark Heart has been a slave since he was a child and that just is part of the culture he grew up in. He does not expect any type of change or becoming more than a slave and in fact seems pretty happy with his lot in life from what I gathered in the book.

So there it is right there!

Dark Heart which bases it’s telling from the point of view of Tam the slave boy does not really have a “character story arc”, it’s static, because Tam was a slave, is a slave, and remains a slave the entire time. You could argue he falls in love with Master Lucan but I have to ask how you know that. Does he “love” Master Lucan simply because he feels more appreciated as a slave or just because Master Lucan beats him less? And Is any of that depressing mess romantic?

It’s so much easier for me to believe the imperfect BDSM Contemporary Romance of Mr. Benson in this case than the perfect Slave Fantasy of Dark Heart because I as the reader know that in Mr. Benson Jamie can get the fuck up and walk any time he feels like it.

There is always that “instant out” button that can be pressed and then you have to deal with him as a man. Not a plaything or a possession. Tam is never offered any of those decisions and he never gets the choice between freedom or love or anything of emotional consequence. Tam and Lucan never drop their roles so there is no real assessment of either of them as people in a relationship.

Tam “being a slave” and choosing to give a good blow job versus a bad blow job based on how he feels about Master Lucan will never be as big of an emotional impact to me as Jamie choosing to give a blow job to Mr. Benson based on his “choice to play the role of a slave”. Tam is just doing his job and is expected to just give the blow job. Why should I read any implication that love is involved into an expected act?

A choice made so as “not to be beaten to death” is not an act of commitment or love!
That is the very essence of my problem whether we are talking Dark Heart or any of the Gor novels or the Anne Rice “Beauty books” with all their Master/slave Fantasies in full swing. Writing good, bad or anywhere in between.

BDSM is the same as sex to me the reader so filling a story up with sex scenes just makes it erotic or pornographic. Filling a story up with BDSM scenes does not magically imply romance because BDSM by itself is not any more or any less romantic than sex. If done well it can make for a good read like Jack Fritscher ~ Leather Blues which is simply hard core BDSM Erotica. I still like it, it just should not be labeled Romance.

One last question… Can any BDSM based story be considered Romance if there is no hard choices made between freedom and love? I don’t know but I have not read any that worked for me that did not have those considerations made somewhere in the story.

Strong writing and talented world building should have brought this up to a solid B but use of some typical BDSM fantasy cliches plus a total crash and burn on the Romance side of things, which is why I bought it in the first place, makes this a Grade D.

Vaughn R. Demont ~ House Of Stone
From: Samhain Publishing

Now this looks interesting.

Laura Navarre ~ The Devil’s Mistress
From: Samhain Publishing

Really really nice cover there… Like the beard!

Carlos García & François Peneaud ~ Brother To Dragons (Volume 1)
From: Class Comics

Alaï the horny farm boy (with two dots above his i) travels to the big city to see his not so horny cousin Rano and along the way just to keep his horny quotient going he gives a mysterious hairy coachman Jiki (with two red eyes) and a dragon tramp stamp a little sumtin sumtin…

Well, that’s about it. No, I don’t mean like I am trying not to give the plot away… that’s about all that goes on in this damn comic story wise. Besides tons of sex that is. I know it’s erotica but come on! The artwork by Carlos García is gor-jesus but I have to admit I have no clue what this story might even be about to tell you if it is any good. Honestly, I have gotten more plot information from reading the sales blurbs in the Samhain coming soon pages.

In the first few pages Alaï “meets” Jiki or should I say “meats” Jiki and we are off to a roll in the hay with convenient tag team by the suddenly appearing Inn Keeper and then with a couple of frames of Jiki walking away with mysterious “red eyes” we are smack dab in the big city. Which then leads to meeting Roni and having a huge flash back sex scene there. Then a slammed in random Jiki moment with three other guys having a sex showdown. Then wham we are in some church with Alaï and the blessing has to be given mouth to mouth if you get my drift.

The problem is between point A and point B there was not much point. Or story. Or explanation. Or even an occasional info dump. That advertisement above gives more information than is in this comic… “In a world where sex and magic are linked.” I did not see a lot of linking. Just lots of people doing “aha” looks, and bwahaha “he’ll do” looks in between sex scenes. Which frankly does not tell me what the hell is going on. Maybe it’s me, maybe I don’t understand how comic books work anymore. Maybe this is what customers expect them to be like at the beginning.

I don’t know. Maybe I am too old.

So based solely on the artwork and the potential it has to make this series special I will raise this thing to a Grade C against my better judgment. I spent money on something I frankly did not get a whole lot out of but promises of an actual story to come. My feeling is they should have probably handed this out for free because after all is said and done volume one comes across to me more like an exceedingly brief sales pitch than an actual story.

Carlos brought his game and it shows but François did not bother to even show up.

Andre Norton ~ Year Of The Unicorn (Witch World 3)
From: Orb Books

How does one know coming good from coming ill? There are those times in life when one welcomes any change, believing that nothing can be such ashes in the mouth, such dryness of days as the never altering flood of time in a small community where the outside world lies ever beyond the gates locked and barred against all change. From the bell tower of Abbey Norstead – and how many years had sped since a bell had pealed from there? – one could see the unending rippling of the Dales, on and on to the blue-gray of Fast Ridge. On bright days, when the sun drove away the mist curtain, the darkened fringe of the forest cloaking Falthingdale broke the moss carpet to the west, and the harsh, sky-clutching claws of Falcon-Fist made a sharp point to draw the eyes eastward. But otherwise there were just the Dales with their age-old shutting out of man and his affairs. They had lain so before his coming; they would remain so at his going. But as yet he had a part in them, and here in Norsdale it would seem that quiet land had conquered the natural restlessness of the breed of mankind, slowing all life force to the pace of the everlasting hills.
Andre Norton ~ Year Of The Unicorn

Nothing makes me happier than to read these words from the first book of Andre Norton’s High Hallack Cycle now in eBook form. This has got to be my number one favorite comfort read. We will meet Gillan in The Year of the Unicorn as she prepares the herbs necessary to aid her into secretly becoming a member of the 12 and one high-born maids promised as wives to the Were Riders of Arvon. Then that memorable cloak scene where she chooses Herrel…

There was one cloak lying well away from the rest, almost to the hedge which set the boundary of the dell. The runes did not run on it as an uninterrupted edging, but rather were broken apart. For a moment I strove to see it enchanted – green – or blue – or something of them both – and on it a winged form wrought in crystals. But that glimpse was gone so quickly that I could not have sworn to it a moment later. I was drawn to it – at least it drew my eyes more than the others. And I must make a choice at once, lest I be suspect – though why I thought that I could not tell.

So I crossed dead and frozen ground, and I picked up the cloak, holding it before me as I went on, through the bare bushes and the chill of the mist, leaving yet perhaps a half score cloaks still lying there, their spells fled, their color vanished.

I heard voices in the mist, carefree laughter, joyful sounds. But I saw no one and when I tried to follow any of the sounds, I could not be sure of my direction. In the filmy entrapment my uneasiness grew and all the dark of dread rumor whispered in memory. The cloak between my hands was heavy, lined with white-gray fur which was harsh to my skin. Also I was chilled, and my borrowed finery dew-wet, little protection against the mist.

A darkness within that cloud, a figure coming towards me. In that moment it was as if I were being stalked, cunningly and with no hope of escape.

Shape changers, that was the cry in one’s ears when the Were Riders were named. Man – or beast – or both? What did I face now – a darkish shadow – but it walked on two feet as a man. Did a beast’s head rest upon it’s shoulders? Whatever my companions had met with in that disguising fog, they had not feared, or voices would not continue to rise with so happy a ring, even though the words they spoke I could not distinguish.

I halted, holding still the cloak which grew ever heavier in my hands, dragging them down with it’s weight. Man, yes, the outline of the head was human, not that of a shaggy beast. And still I had clear sight, for the gray-brown cloak I held proved that.

A last whip of the fog between us was sundered and I looked upon this stranger from another breed who had come a-hunting me. He was tall, though not of the inches of a hill warrior, and slim as any untried boy on his first foraging would be slim. Smooth of face as a boy, also.Yet the green eyes beneath slanting brows were not boy’s eyes, but weary and old, still ageless also.

Those brows slanting upward, made the eyes in turn appear angle-set in a face with a sharply pointed chin, and were matched in outline by his thick black hair which was peaked on his forehead. He was neither handsome nor unhandsome by human standard, merely very different.

Though his head was bare of war-helm he wore a byrnie of chain-link, supple by his easy movements within it’s casing. This reached to midthigh and beneath it breeches, close fitting, of furred hide, a silvery fur shorter in the hair than the pelt which had taken my fancy at the tent though still of the same nature. His feet were booted, but also in furred leather, their color being a shade or two darker than his breeks. About his slender waist was a belt of some soft material, fastened by a large clasp in which were set odd milky gems.

Thus did I face for the first time Herrel of the Were Riders, whose cast cloak I had gathered to me, though not through the same weave spell as intended.
Andre Norton ~ Year Of The Unicorn

Pure poetry! I tell you. It is a bit whack though choosing your future husband from his skills at textile art there.

This was the third book set in the Witch World series and published in 1965 but Andre decided to tell a different story this time. Not that I don’t like the stories she told about Simon Tregarth and his family and how he discovered love and honor in a strange new world and in a war not his own.

I am just much more drawn to the stories Andre chose to tell about High Hallack and people she wrote about risking everything even in a time of peace to find their place in the world on their own terms. People who would choose exile in the waste rather than feel stuck living a life planned out and controlled by someone else.

Grade A writing and a nicely told story even if you will never find a kiss between the couples in the typical Andre Norton book. *sigh* Oh well, nothing is perfect.

You Kindle people out there can grab this story in The Gates to Witch World packaged with the first two Andre Norton Witch World novels for $9.99 while any of you non-Kindle Fictionwise loving people will have to shell out $27.95?? JESUS CHRIST! What the hell are these publishers thinking? Have their brains turned to mush? That is three times the price it should be.

All I can say is with price differences like that. The Amazon Kindle is becoming a great buy for the price conscious eBook Reader and traditional dead tree publishers are solely to blame for this.

Lila Dubois ~ Savage (Zinahs 2)
From: Liquid Silver Books

I have to admit to buying this book in part because of Forbidden’s spectacular cover art created by April Martinez and not just the number of favorable reviews I have read of this series.

This Travelogue Fantasy Romance (Brought to you by the Land of Den Travel and Tourism Commission) found in the first 75 pages is straight out of any classic Andre Norton such as Year of The Unicorn from her Witch World series.

A mighty warrior Anleeh and temple priestess Siara are on their way as treaty envoys to the land of Den, home of Anleeh. The he-man Anleeh starts “training” Siara to submit to him in the ways of his people adding a whole BDSM dynamic into the budding relationship without the typical leather and chains. After the couple’s arrival in Den the story changed, though, and started to remind me somewhat of John Norman’s Gor series with the whole male dominated warrior culture, worshiping the primitive beast nature of man, and the manly man subjugation of woman.

From Page 26 Savage
They chased the sun into the horizon. As pink and orange light bled through the cold air, the small caravan reached the first night’s destination. Weary but warm inside her fur garments, Siara was able to dismount without assistance.
After pacing back and forth to regain control of her numbed legs, Siara helped Anleeh unload the horses, setting their bags before the door of the small cabin. There was a large covered stable to one side. Siara poured piles of oats for each horse as Anleeh lowered hide panels on three sides of the structure. The hides served as a windbreak for the horses, and the horses would serve as warning for them. If anything came near, animal or human, the horses would let them know.
After the last bridle had been removed, replaced by a simple leather harness that freed the horses to eat, they left the animals, grabbed their packs and made their way inside. The door of the cabin had a large musky smelling hide stretched over it. Siara wrinkled her nose as Anleeh lifted it from its hooks and the smell increased.
“What is that?”
“Bear urine.”
“Ugh.”
“It keeps all the other animals away.” He rolled the skin and placed it beside the door, which was unexpectedly beautiful, the work of a master carpenter set in a roughhewn cabin.
“The door is wondrous.”
“Aye. One of my people’s—Den’s—greatest secrets is woodworking skill.”
“Such work would fetch a very fine price in the Great City.”
“It would, but there is a reason Den likes to keep secrets.” Anleeh peered at the door for a moment, and then carefully touched a series of symbols. First a swooping set of lines that looked like a bird’s wing, then a threatening bear claw, and finally the outline of a rising sun.
As he tapped his finger on the rising sun each of the symbols he’d touched filled with pale light. The light, cold white-gold like the winter sun, bled into each line of the carvings, highlighting the exquisite detail. The pattern of feathers on the wing became
visible, as did the impression of fur on the claw and the rays of the rising sun.
“A bird’s wing, a bear claw, and the rising sun.” Siara murmured.
“How do you know the sun is rising?”
Siara cocked her head and considered the question, puzzled by her own certainty. “I don’t know. It would make more sense if it were setting, as this is Den, the land where the sun sets.”
“It might, but you are correct; it is the rising sun.”
“Is the combination, the pass code, the same on every door?” The light faded from the carvings and the door of the cabin opened with a faint ‘pop.’ Anleeh ushered her in.
“No. The symbols relate to the one who begs entrance, not to the door.”
Siara looked at him, surprised. “You mean to say that each person must touch a different set?”
“Yes, and they are not always the same. What you touch must reflect what is in your heart. I have traveled far and wide, as a bird does. The second thing is emblematic of yourself; the bear was my first kill and is always a part of me. Finally, thoughts of the future: the rising sun because my life, and our world, is at the dawn of a new time.”
“Had that not reflected what was in your heart…”
“The door would not have opened.”
“This is incredible! I have never read of anything like this. We must document it; it will be the first part of the book I will write.” Anleeh turned his head away, busying himself by hanging the bags from hooks on the walls. Siara paused, the next question
poised on the tip of her tongue, but left unuttered. Her companion’s pregnant silence could not be ignored. “You are uncomfortable with this.”
“The magic of Den is secret.”
“Our mission is to document these people.”
“No, that is your mission. Mine is to broker a treaty.”
“Better understanding will improve relations. Better relations will strengthen the treaty.”
“Enough. You are correct.” Anleeh hung the last pack and leaned one shoulder against the wall, head bowed. “My reluctance to relate Den’s secrets is not something I expected.”
“I did not mean to ask for more than you are willing to give.”
“I must be willing to give all if we are to succeed.”
“Your reluctance it understandable, this is your home, these are your people.”
“No. Den was my home. I no longer claim its ways. That makes my reluctance all the more troublesome.”

Lila Dubois’ writing is top notch and I was quickly drawn into the story and its characters much like I was originally drawn in to the worlds of Andre Norton who initially got me into reading Romance in the first place by mixing it into her stories. All those early women Sci-fi/Fantasy writers tossing Romance elements in liberally with their sword battles and strange new worlds provided that bridge towards appreciating the interplay between two people falling in love. So this was a very fun read for me.

Lila got me involved not so much with the complexity of the Romance part though, since Siara readily admits right from the start to having already fallen for the big hunk-a-burning-love that is Anleeh and Anleeh eventually admits to himself on the journey to being ever so much more so attracted to Siara. The Romance, let’s face it, is a given the minute the sex starts happening so the main conflicts arise from their arriving in Den.

So in Den with the men, Anleeh, the great warrior, returns all civilized and sissified to this Gor-lite culture that worships only the manliest beastly man. We discover, when Siara talks with his mommy, that Anleeh really ran off to The Land Between the Sea to get away from his daddy and uncle who were all into him becoming this great warrior beast-like killer who ravages their enemies on the battle field. Sorta like how Anleeh starts sexually ravaging Siara in front of the whole Hall of warriors and family.

But Siara, she likes it!

Siara on the other hand was raised all prim and proper in The Land Between the Sea. So even though Anleeh helps her discover her inner sexy beast she still is not all that keen on the Den idea of justice by female subjugation. Especially when she watches a woman named Allana being beaten with a cat o’ nine tails for having been caught by her husband having an affair. The guy she has the affair with, well he gets nothing, it turns out it is all about the woman’s fault for being sexually impure or something like that. How dare they!

From Page 118 Savage
The warrior reached down and sliced off the top of the bag, stepping away from it once it was opened. Movement behind her had Siara turning. Jahrl moved forward to take his place on the throne.
She turned back in time to see the bag slowly move, undulating.
A head appeared in the opening, followed by shoulders. The figure rose, its feet still in the sack. Wild tangles of hair covered the naked body. It was a woman.
Siara sucked in a hard breath. That warrior had placed this poor woman in a sack and dragged her across the ground, no telling how far. Siara twitched forward and Anleeh placed his arm across her waist, holding her still. He was right, she needed to watch, to learn how justice was delivered in Den.
“Jahrl-Ori,” the warrior barked. “I bring charges of disgrace upon this woman.”
“Do you wish to give reasons?” Jahrl asked.
“I would, that all will know her shame. She touched another man.”
There was a rustling in the Hall and Siara watched as women pressed closer to their men. Most of the women’s faces had gone impassive, though many of the men wore looks of disgust. Those few women who had an expression showed pity and fear.
Siara’s breathing sped up, her belly knotting with anxiety.
“Raise your chin, woman, let us see your disgrace.”
The woman raised her head and Siara jerked in surprise. It was Anga’s older sister, the one newly married.
Her long white blond hair hung in her face, and the warrior moved forward, pulling a knife from his boot.
“Anleeh,” Siara whispered fearfully.
“Quiet,” he breathed.
The warrior gathered his wife’s hair in his fist, rough fingers pulling it away from her face, and then, with little ceremony, sliced it off.
Her hip length locks now shorn to neck, there was no protection for her nakedness.
The warrior threw the hair onto the hearth fire where it crackled as it burned, sending up a rank smell.
“I will have my save-face,” the warrior yelled. Jahrl nodded.
Several warriors rose, pulling a large box from beneath the platform the throne sat on.
The box was opened and several long lengths of rope pulled from it, as well as a heavy leather flogger. The woman whimpered—the first sound she’d made—and tried to run.
She darted for the open doors of the Hall, but was easily caught. Her husband grabbed her, turned her, and then backhanded her to the ground.
Siara could take it no more. She pushed to her feet, prepared to go to the girl’s aid.
Anleeh rose beside her, and Siara expected that he too would assist in putting and end to this abuse.
When Anleeh wrapped an arm around her waist and clamped a hand over her mouth, using the hold to pull her back into the shadows, Siara was so surprised that she didn’t fight him.
The other men moved forward, helping the woman’s husband to corral her, lacing cuffs onto her wrists and ankles. Throwing the ropes attached to the wrist cuffs over a high beam the warriors dragged on it, jerking the woman forward until she was directly below the beam, then stretching her onto her toes.
Other warriors came forward and took the ropes attached to her ankles and jerked them apart, spreading her legs until her big toes barely brushed the ground, forcing her body’s weight onto her arms.
The woman’s head bent forward between her painfully stretched arms; she was whimpering, a soft, continuous cry. Tears prickled in Siara’s own eyes, and as the husband hefted the flogger, Siara struggled in Anleeh’s hold.
Anleeh would not make her stand and watch this. He would stop it. Together, they would stop it.
The husband raised the flogger and brought it forward in a brutal blow against the woman’s back. She screamed.
No. No, this is wrong, this is horrible, this is brutal and I will not watch it happen. I will stop it, I will save her.
Siara began to fight Anleeh’s hold in truth. His arm around her middle, binding her arms against her sides, tightened. Siara dug her heel into his toes, but Anleeh jerked his foot away.
He leaned back against the wall, keeping her body tight to his, and forced her legs between his, holding them immobile within the heavily muscled bracket of his own limbs.
It was then Siara realized that Anleeh would not stop this, that he would force her to watch as this woman was beaten.

Here folks you have for exhibit A what is in essence my problem between the whole Conan The Barbarian or Gor versus Witch World or Darkover. Gor or Conan stories tend to explore finding empowerment while following the rules and accepting the roles or limitations and punishments society has handed you. While Witch World and Darkover are about finding self empowerment through intelligence and breaking the rules and eventually finding your own place in society.

So where does the pig stand on this matter? As Annie Lennox sings…
Power to the meek
Power to speak
I got the power
Within me Yeah

There I was, reading a dark dark fantasy with all these angst ridden conflicts which were pretty dang cool seeing as how the hero and heroine’s internal struggles with this society matched up with the whole diplomatic mission they were on. Anleeh seeking to come to terms with his inner psychotic beast of war and Siara coming to terms with some really fucked up male chauvinist pigs in fur pants. Then I started looking at how many pages we had left after the whole travelogue and damn, not many, so I was wondering to myself how Lila was going to resolve all these issues she kept bringing up. They were some pretty nasty issues mind you.

One day after the treaty gets signed just as our now sex crazed couple is getting ready to pack up and head back to The Land Between the Sea there is a call to arms and Anleeh rushes off to fight the bad guys for dear old dad and uncle. Hey! I thought Anleeh’s mother said he did not like being this Weapon of Mass Destruction so why is he running off to do just that? He returns a fully raging psychotic beast of war that he feared he would become, from what mommy said at least.

But Anleeh, he likes it!

Siara then uses THE POWER OF LURVE to show him what exactly he had been missing about himself all these years. That’s right all his problems were magically resolved when he changes into a real beast, so she touches him and viola! he’s a panther…. Hold on! Um, what does this fix if he was upset over being a human Weapon of Mass Destruction just “acting” like a psycho killer beast? So what the hell difference does it make if he can actually turn into a wolf or a panther or a dragon or what the fuck ever? That just means he has real claws.

I don’t get this ending! Let me repeat, how does simply turning into an actual beast resolve his internal conflicts with acting like a beast in battle with daddy and uncle cheering him on? Am I being dense here? Is it just me?

Oh, and THE POWER OF LURVE also seems to magically resolve Siara’s conflict as well, so beating a poor woman for adultery is fine because she LURVES Anleeh and she would never ever ever do anything like that. So it does not really matter. *heh* Instead of telling brute boy, of the tribe of Wife Beater, he needs to grow a pair or no way is he ever getting any evers like. So they, I guess, fly away. BUT… Were they not heading out anyway? What does flying away do differently than riding the hell out of Gor land?

I liked this story and all that but it really started to bother me like some sort of immature male sexual fantasy right out of the Gor Coloring Book for Preteen Boys. I still cannot figure out how turning into a were-dragon and flying off into the sunset fixes all the hero or heroines damn conflicts. So despite the excellent beginning and the fascinating middle of the story I have to go with a Grade C for the lack of follow through or really clear explanation at the end there.

This review was originally written for The Good, The Bad, The Unread.