On the Northern Continent, where Guild membership grants great power and high accolades, Loren Turtingas struggles against his destiny to end an age-old secret buried within the tomb of Mount Gehenna.
With a loveable host of characters and an accidental romance, Reaper's Gamble introduces a colorful world where jobs aren't so ordinary, perks come with a price, and secrets are governed by Audun, the capital of the world.
For all fans of slow-burn fantasy, twists, hidden identities, and fated relationships. Reaper's Gamble is book 1 in the series.
On the Northern Continent, where Guild membership grants great power and high accolades, Loren Turtingas struggles against his destiny to end an age-old secret buried within the tomb of Mount Gehenna.
With a loveable host of characters and an accidental romance, Reaper's Gamble introduces a colorful world where jobs aren't so ordinary, perks come with a price, and secrets are governed by Audun, the capital of the world.
For all fans of slow-burn fantasy, twists, hidden identities, and fated relationships. Reaper's Gamble is book 1 in the series.
Waves of desert heat pulsed over Lorenâs skin, but all he felt was cold. He strained to sense his surroundings, seeing wave after wave of yellow dust blowing over the dunes. A grinding static muffled his eardrums, drowning out the screams of his friend.
None of his books had ever taught him this. No book ever told him what it was like to die.
Chapter 2: Lor and his dad
âLoren B. Turtingas! Get up here, now!â Galeâs voice found its way through the thick basement door, jumping down the steps two at a time and rolling into Lorâs dreamy ears. He yawned and turned on a small techlight perched on his nightstand. Its white light painted the crude and splintered wooden surface.
A thick and dusty manual titled Guide for the Non-Guild Faction of Law: Roundsmen sat like a boring brick on the nightstand. Pages poked out from the sides as if desperate to escape their own binding, and a stained wet ring encircled the word Law.
Next to the book, his fingers flopped over a small black disk the size of his palm, and he drew a series of taps on the slick shell. A holopic of his QuickChat sprayed from the disk and hovered. No messages, no calls, no friends.
âComing!â he shouted back up the stairs.
He had overslept again. Yawning once more, he swung his legs over the side of his hard mattress, throwing aside a padded woolen comforter inlaid with silver threadsâa lavish gift his sister, Eva, had purchased from a Shepherd in Audun.
Loren dragged his feet to the base of the stairs and flipped on the main light. A golden hue bathed the area, transforming his ordinary bedroom into what his stepfather always told him resembled a dingy smoking den. He never agreed with that assessment. To him, it was cozy and quaint. He would never leave if he had a choice.
An oversized dark red chair and three tall bookcases crowded the far corner at the foot of the bed. The bookcases were filled with tomes of all shapes and sizes in a rainbow of colors tinted by the golden cast of the light.
He rummaged through the closet with white socks pulled over his calves and a loose left toe that folded over the tip of his foot. Loren chose a wrinkled, plain black shirt to pull down over his messy hair and a pair of stained tan pants and brown boots scuffed all over the toe. Gale always told him he had a laziness in his walk that he couldnât quite put his finger on, and that was why he wore his boots and socks out too fast.
He slid the black disk in his back pocket and checked the mirror. Light gray eyes set into a ruddy face, and a mess of ash blond hair stared back at him.
âLoren! Get up here!â Gale shouted again, as loud as the first time.
The blond mop on his head flopped over a sweaty brow, which he slicked back with a wet palm. The stairs protested under his boots in squeaks and fits as he lay leaden steps over them. Reluctantly, he made his way upstairs and into reality.
Light slapped his tired eyes when he opened the door leading to the main house. A stark white hall stretched before him toward the kitchen. Digital pictures decorated the walls, which cycled through images of the family, places theyâd visited, and his stepfatherâs medic friends. Only one holopic of Loren and Gale together had been programmed into the cycle of images, and it wouldnât show when he walked through the hall.
The frames blinked and strobed through their cycles, which made him dizzy. He focused on his feet to drive him forward through the hall until he stepped onto the marble tile flecked with gold. A serious, middle-aged man with thick-rimmed glasses sat at a wide island counter with an assortment of many tools lying next to him. They were impeccably vertical, with an occasional tube-based tool wrapped in a spiral and fixed neatly in place. They were all pointing at Loren.
âHow many times have I told you not to walk around in the house with your shoes on? Take them off.â
âYes, sir.â Loren slid his droopy socks from the boots and shuffled toward Gale, who glanced up at Loren and shook his head.
Their small house servant stood in the corner of the kitchen, watching the pair still as stone. She was a Foscan, eerie and beautiful. Dag the Small, Gale called her, in the tradition of assigning bastard names to Foscan rebels. She was far from any rebel. Lor only knew her as meek and fragile, with ethereal beauty in unblemished pale gray skin, shiny black hair, and those indescribable eyes. Like a typical Foscan, her eyes were white, catching the light at angles that gave them the appearance of an inner glow. He swore he saw those reflections in the darkness of his room at times.
Gale rustled a newslite paper in his fist. His studied gaze peered over the top of the paper at Lorenâs wrinkled shirt and stained pants. âYou look like a slob,â he said.
âI need to do laundry,â Loren responded, settling into the chair opposite Gale.
A trio of chirps emitted from the black disk sitting near the tools, identical to the one in Lorenâs pocket. Galeâs dark brown eyes continued to study him over the glasses, then he held up a finger.
Yes, of course Iâll wait. Lor sighed.
Gale pressed the center of the disk, and a holopic slung out in front of them.
âGo for Gale,â he said.
âHey, Gale, we are going to need you in about two standard hours.â The holopic buzzed in a robotic, stilted voice.
âRight. Be there in one and a half.â
âHeard. Donnelly out.â
Gale pressed the center again, and the disk sucked the holopic into its core. He sighed and set his glasses on the counter, rubbing his face pink.
âLor,â he said, tapping the newslite paper resting on the counter, âhave you given any more thought to the program?â
Gale called him by his nickname. Lor knew this game wellâit was a manipulation tactic.
âI have,â Lor said as he ran his hand across the smooth stone edge, activating the center of the countertop. A pair of sliding doors hissed open, revealing a maw in the middle of the counter, and a tray of the dayâs rations rose from the center.
Among the bland blocks of oatcress and vegemeal, there was a bowl of yellow sarga fruit, which he snatched the second he saw them. The plump fruit was soft in his hand, and he took a big, wet bite.
Lor smacked his lips. âBut what would I do without these fine rations to start each glorious day?â
âDonât talk with your mouth full. And try to conserve those, yeah?â
He plucked a piece of toast from the neat stack sitting next to the bowl of fruit and flicked his hand across the sensor again. The food plinth descended into its refrigerated holding cell as the doors snapped shut.
âIâm serious, Lor. Itâs important that you at least try to join the program. The next class begins nine months from now, after the Desert Maelstrom, and itâs not too late to register.â
Lor swallowed the rest of his fruit. He stared at the toast in his hand, debating whether to stuff it in his mouth and delay his answer, but he knew it would be trouble for him. Then it would be back to being called Loren B. Turtingas.
âI-I just really think Iâd be better suited in⌠Law. Sir.â
Gale pushed his chair back and gaped at Lor.
âLaw? Are you serious? What kind of Law?â
This wasnât what he wanted to discuss today. He didnât want to discuss it any day.
âWell, I was reading about roundsmen, and Iâ"
âAbsolutely not!â Gale slammed a pencil down on the counter that Lor didnât see him holding. âDo you want to end up like that kid Gregory?â
âHe wasnât a kid, Dad. Iâm pretty sure he was your age.â
âWhatever, he was just a kid when I was a kid.â Gale jabbed a thumb at his chest. âMy point stands. Do you want to end up like him?â
âNo, but roundsmen work is tricky, and Gregory messed up, right? Iâve been researching the role, and I think thatâ"
âI said no.â
Lor knew the conversation was over. He swiped the toast and crammed the whole piece in his mouth. Gale pretended Gregoryâs death didnât bother him, but it did. He rarely talked about the guy, but Lor knew he meant something to him at some point long ago. The name had come up for the first time shortly after his mother died while Lor was still young. He had wandered near the bedroom while Gale talked about the incident with someone over the phone. It was the first time he had seen the shimmer of a tear in his stepfatherâs eye⌠and the last.
âLook, Eva is happy in her city and she is thriving. I only want the same for you. You understand that, donât you?â
Dry toast seized his tongue, and he wriggled his jaw to position the partially soggy ball under his teeth. The wad of bread finally broke down enough to swallow a piece without choking.
âI guess so.â
âBesides, if you donât develop a gift, you can still be a part of one of the many other non-Guild memberships out there.â
âYou mean like Law?â
âStop it.â
âIsnât it expensive? I donât want to fail and waste plats.â
âDonât worry about plats.â
Lor stared just beyond Galeâs shoulder through the window. The Audun capitol tower stood in the far distance, barely visible against the clear horizonâsuch an innocent-looking thing to serve as the puppet master of all seven cities.
âI donât want to fail.â
âYou wonât fail.â
âLike you did?â He shouldnât have said that.
Why did I say that?
Gale glared at him. His mouth zipped up so tight he could crush a hunk of rock between those lips and pull out a diamond. He straightened his collar and ran a hand over the side of his balding head, blowing a puff of air from that tight mouth making an angry whistle.
âI didnât mean that,â Lor said, tucking his hands in his lap. The words may as well have been a middle finger.
Dag the Small watched them while in her corner, waiting for the tea kettle in Galeâs head to explode. He scared her. He always scared her. She shifted her weight, moving for the first time since Lor arrived in the kitchen.
Gale rose slowly, backing out from the counter and pushing his chair snugly against the stone.
âYou had better watch your tone, Loren.â
âS-Sorry, sir. I was just trying to tell you that Iâm afraid to fail.â
âDoesnât matter now.â Gale clicked his tongue. âIâm signing you up for the program, so you find a way to deal with that and swallow your pride.â
Lorâs heart sank. Three words were all it took to course-correct his future.
Like you did? What were you thinking?
âI have to go, they need me. Figure it out, Loren.â
With a final huff, Gale stormed past the servant, who flinched when he left the kitchen. Lor noticed her watching him with her eerie white gaze.
âStop it,â he said.
***
Nine months to figure it out.
Lor slid down the stairs to his bedroom and plopped on his red reading chair. The passage of time between that moment and leaving for Heart Island would be an unmeasurable drag. He prayed for the Desert Maelstrom to blow away the island and take the program with it. He knew very little about the school and had no desire to find his âgift.â It all seemed a little woo-woo to him, with all the channeling and meditations. There was also rumor of a commune cult on the same island.
One thing he knew for sure was that the program was not far from the black sands of Mount Gehenna. Evaâs first letters to him while she was in the program obsessed over her fear of the mountain. Eventually, she stopped writing about that and focused on how misunderstood the area was. Her language morphed into an aloofness that gave Lor even more pause about the brainwashing program.
He leaned over to study the books on his shelf, searching for anything that might give him insight on what he was getting into.
Cycles and Tradition, Roundsmen Duties
Unusual Flora and Fauna of Northern Budge
The History and Annals of Guild Abilities and Memberships: Formative Years, Tome 1
How to Relate to Others and Maintain Relationships
Medical Marvels and the Salvation Behind Them
Well-Rounded Rations and the Kurb Diet: What They Donât Tell You.
Lor sighed. At least nothing on this small shelf was of any use.
The one thing that baked his mind was the sheer cost of the program, with no guarantee of success. The price of prestige was steep, and he didnât want it.
Why stick it near Mount Gehenna?
Why would Gale want to spend plats to put me through a program that might fail us both?
Eva was lucky to find a home with the Engineers in Ascendia. Gale was so proud of her when she discovered her gift, as it brought more social credit to the household. Lor always found it odd that something like Guild work was praised higher than what Gale did, which was saving lives as a medic.
Lor slumped back in the chair, pulling Cycles and Tradition, Roundsman Duties from the bookshelf. He flipped through the musty pages to a dog-eared corner that marked a chapter on dress. Law had his heart, and it was free to learn at Peakwood Academy just down the road. He could live at home, save money, and learn what he wanted, when he wanted.
He tried to remember his conversation with Eva when she came back from the program. She had an implant, and that didnât sit well with him.
Eva showed him the lump under her skin. âItâs how they unlock your gift.â
âItâs kinda big.â He poked it, watching it slither around under her skin.
âYeah, it hurt at first, but I donât feel it anymore. They do it right on your second day, so you have plenty of time to heal.â
âHow long does it take for you to find out?â
âFind out what?â
âYou know⌠whether you belong to a Guild?â
âOh, it depends on the person. It took me about a month, which the guide said was on the longer side.â
âWell, what do you do for the other five months that you are there if a month is a long time?â
âThat is when we practice using our gift. Trust me, it takes some getting used to.â She smiled at that, a wistful look in her eye she didnât explain further. Lor didnât askâhe didnât care.
It wasnât long after that she got the call from Ascendia with an offer from the Seven Cities. Her acceptance marked the moment her shadow cast long and dark over Lor.
Reaper's Gamble promises to be a captivating tale set in the Northern Continent, a place where the power dynamics are dictated by Guild memberships. The protagonist, Loren Turtingas, is entangled in a destiny that could unravel an ancient secret within Mount Gehenna's tomb. This narrative weaves a tapestry of unique characters, unexpected romance, and a world where every job has its consequences, and every secret is under the dominion of Audun. It's a world that will surely entice fans of layered fantasy, with its slow-burning plots, intricate twists, and the allure of concealed identities and predestined ties.
Reaperâs Gamble appears to be a rich tapestry of futuristic fantasy, drawing comparisons to popular series like Divergent. The protagonist, Loren, is characterized as generally likeable, though his narrative voice sometimes veers into childishness, which is potentially distracting from his relatability. The book boasts a diverse ensemble of characters and guilds and carves out its own identity with a complex and vividly painted world. The author strategically employs a school program within the narrative to introduce readers to this world, its races, guilds and abilities, as well as essential terminology, which is a clever expository device.
The pacing in Reaperâs Gamble is rather brisk. Significant events and developments are condensed in early chapters and journal entries rather than being fully explored in real-time. This rapid progression, especially in the first act of the book, may have sacrificed opportunities for deeper character development and relationship building, leading to a sense of two-dimensionality, particularly in the romantic subplots. A more gradual and visual unfolding of events, especially those showcasing Lorâs personal growth and his journey to find his Guild, could have offered a more immersive and emotionally resonant reading experience. Such an approach may have allowed for a more organic evolution of relationships and a stronger investment in the charactersâ arcs.
Reaperâs Gamble seems poised to captivate the young adult fantasy audience, particularly those of high school age. The enduring appeal of academy-style fantasy is a trope that continues to resonate with readers, offering a familiar yet exciting framework for new stories. As a fresh take within a beloved genre, it stands a good chance of gathering a dedicated following eager for innovative adventures within such a setting.