The Transcendence Series Book Tour & Giveaway

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Welcome to my Sixtieth Hosting for Silver Dagger Book Tours!

What a magnificently written series!!  It was the Gold Winner for Adult Fiction in 2019 from Wishing Shelf Awards :D  Set back in Egyptian times, this series will surely keep you up reading way past your bedtime!!

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The Lost Valor of Love 

The Transcendence Series Book 1 

by E A Carter 

Genre: Historical Fantasy, SciFi 

"Claim me, and your every movement, every breath, every word will be written upon my heart, for eternity. You will be immortal yet."

'GRIPPING. WILL KEEP YOU READING THROUGH THE NIGHT.' KATHERINE STANSFIELD, AUTHOR OF FALLING CREATURES

Growing up during the centuries-long conflict between the empires of Egypt and Hatti, the young princess Istara is taken hostage by the King of Hatti to secure the loyalty of her father, the King of Kadesh to the empire. Soon her new life in Hatti's glittering capital becomes all she knows. Bound in blood before the gods to Hatti's unwilling crown prince, Istara, now Hatti's queen-in-waiting, learns she will never be loved.

But the drums of war beat again, and when the scheming plans of Hatti's king threaten the existence of all civilization, the gods give Istara a choice: to leave behind everything she knows to save mankind, or remain where she is, powerless, a token on the game board of kings. On the brink of one of the most brutal battles in history, she chooses to risk her life to deliver a message to the only man able to prevent the prophecy from becoming a reality—her mortal enemy, the Pharaoh Ramesses II.

Wounded, cold and hungry, she wanders in the battle's horrific aftermath, and aids a powerful commander, who she learns protected her once, and has been bound to her ever since by a prophetic dream of his future. Despite his resistance, and Istara once more becoming a pawn of kings, they must confront an eternal love so powerful, not even kings, the gods, or death can keep them apart.

The Lost Valor of Love is the first book of the Transcendence series. 

**Get it FREE Apr 9 – 13!!** 

Goodreads * Amazon

Book Trailer 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nl2PvQYgdh8&feature=emb_title

His father made a wide circuit around the stump, stepping, disdainful, over its broken pieces. He stopped and looked over his men, his eyes glittering.

“Everything of value is to be taken.” The King of Hatti's voice carried across the square, echoing over the soldiers and down into the city. “Every animal, every store of provisions, every bolt of material, every hoarded ingot of gold and silver. Spare only the image of the goddess herself. You will leave them nothing but the stones we stand upon. If anyone resists, put them to the sword, be it man, woman or child. By my command, you will show Kadesh no mercy.”

The pleas began, quiet at first, soon escalating to desperate wails as the soldiers stripped the nobles of their gold, jewels, and embroidered tunics. Some of the women were left wearing nothing, their thin frames and slack skin exposed for all to see. Several of the soldiers laughed, mocking them. Urhi-Teshub shook his head, glaring at them, disgusted.

His father turned his attention to Amunira, Kadesh's king, and gestured for Urhi-Teshub to join him.

“Prince of Hatti,” his father began as Urhi-Teshub navigated his way around the broken remains of Seti's stela, “how shall we punish our disloyal vassal? Think well, for one day you shall be Hatti's king, and the lessons you learn today will be of great value to you then.”

Urhi-Teshub caught the vindictive glint in his father's eye. He would not do his father's dirty work for him.

“My lord king and father,” he answered, choosing his words with care, “you have taken all Kadesh has left to be taken after having endured a long siege. There is nothing left to them now save their lives.”

His father smiled, cold, as he pulled his daggers from their sheaths. “Shall we take their lives as well, my son?”

Urhi-Teshub looked at Amunira, stripped of his finery, waiting, stoic. Behind him, his queen, Azfara, stood wearing only a thin linen shift. A beautiful woman. Her gaze met his, pleading. He turned his attention back to Amunira, trying to gauge the man, his worth as a king. Amunira met his eyes, courageous, honorable, ready to die.

Urhi-Teshub recognized in him the many qualities lacking in his father. Here stood a good and noble king who had suffered much, who had been forced to make a terrible choice to protect his people. Urhi-Teshub would not sacrifice this man just to gain his father's approval. A thought crossed his mind.

“Is there not another way?” he asked, his eyes on Amunira. “To kill them would only give rise to a new nobility, perhaps ones chosen by Pharaoh Seti. We have the perfect opportunity to ensure King Amunira's continued obedience, despite his treachery of having allied himself to Egypt.”

A soft hiss filled the quiet as his father slid one of his daggers back into its sheath. A creak of sun warmed leather followed as he rested his hand on the dagger's pommel. “I am listening.”

A flicker of gratitude flared in Amunira's eyes. Urhi-Teshub ignored him. “Hostages,” he said, gesturing along the line of nobles. “Just as Lord Hattusilis takes the Kaskan children from the conquered tribes, let us take these children with us to Tarhuntassa to educate under your command. Once they are grown, send them back to Kadesh to serve as your loyal administrators.”

His father rubbed the pommel of the other dagger against his jaw, its fluted edge rasping against his stubble as he looked over the children among the nobles, unimpressed. His gaze moved to one of the young women standing near the queen, stopping to linger on the faint curves of her body. He nodded at her. Urhi-Teshub turned. A little girl, a pretty, dark-haired thing, peeked out from behind the woman's shift.

His father pointed his dagger at her. “The girl,” he said, his voice taut. “Bring her to me.”

With a cry, Azfara rushed over to the child and put her behind her, out of his sight. “Your Majesty,” she pleaded, her face tight with fear, “I beg you, not her.”

“Ah, the desperate look of a mother,” his father smiled, slow. “So, I have flushed out Amunira's brat.”

Before Azfara could answer, the young woman who had first hidden the child brushed past Azfara as though the queen were of no consequence.

“Your Highness, of what use is a child?” she asked, soft and enticing, bowing low. “Such a burden. Let me offer myself to you instead. I am Lady Rhoha, sister of King Amunira. Allow me to devote my life to your pleasure as your concubine.”

Urhi-Teshub looked from his father to the woman, who could be no more than twenty. Even in her diminished state, there was no doubt the woman knew her beauty was astonishing. With a few weeks of feeding, her body would once more be ripe and full, ready to give great pleasure. Her thick, dark brown hair fell to her waist in rolling waves, unbound without its jewels. Dark and sultry, she would be a match for any of his father's most exotic concubines. She licked her lips, slow, seductive. Urhi-Teshub raised his brow. Was she trying to seduce his father here?

“I have concubines enough,” his father grunted. “The girl, Urhi-Teshub.”

Rhoha opened her shift, exposing the curve of her perfect breasts. She stepped toward his father, her eyes wide and trusting. “Then, instead of the child,” she breathed, “take my life. To be killed by one's king—a god—there can be no greater end.”

His father narrowed his eyes. “You dare try to divert me? You are no one, worthless. Beware I do not send both you and the child to the gods today.” He shoved her aside, pointing once more at the girl. “I will not ask again. Bring me Amunira's child. She will be the price for Kadesh's crimes. My blade awaits.”

The Call of Eternity 

The Transcendence Series Book 2 

'AN EPIC STORY OF LOVE. POWERFUL AND COMPELLING.' KATHERINE STANSFIELD, AUTHOR OF THE MAGPIE TREE

"I love you, even past the boundaries of eternity. Not even the end of my existence could extinguish the love I feel for you."

In the epic sequel to The Lost Valor of Love, worlds collide, and gods and mortals cross paths, kingdoms fall, and ancient, long-buried hatreds stir.

In the heavens, the storm god Teshub discovers two of the most powerful gods of the pantheon have fallen to a world torn apart by rivalry, war, famine, and plagues. Soon, he learns, he too must fall.

In the north, a crown prince ascends the throne, his queen taken by his enemy as compensation for the crimes of his father. But the new king is prepared to risk everything to reclaim his queen, and plans for war begin.

In the east, a near-immortal senses the awakening of a powerful artifact after an eternity of silence. It can only mean one thing: gods once more walk among men, and with their return—the key to his immortality.

And from far without, the Creator eyes his dying creation, its fragile boundaries unraveling. From across an enormous board, he picks up a token—an exact replica of a living woman. He smiles at it with fondness and sets it down on a new space. Folding his hands together, he steps back, and waits.

The Call of Eternity is the second book in the Transcendence series. 

**Get it FREE April 16 – 20!!** 

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He passed a pool in one of the deserted courtyards, catching a glimpse of his reflection in the dark water, the skim of ice pulled away to allow the fish to breathe. Several weeks' worth of thick stubble coated his jaw, and despite being tied back in a thong, his long hair had become a tangled, dirty, matted mess. His armor, dull and unoiled, glinted with frost in the cold, pale light. If not for the wealth of gold embossing his armor and scabbards, none would have believed he was the crown prince of Hatti. He had lost weight too, his face had thinned, accentuating the hard cut of his jaw even through the dense graze of his stubble.

The traders at Kadesh had not exaggerated. Famine had fallen hard on Hatti, and the further away from Kadesh he and his men travelled, the worse it became. People hoarded what little they had left from the year before and were unwilling to sell it, even to Hatti's crown prince. Despite his purse brimming with gold ingots, he could not procure even a single dried fig for his men or a handful of grain for the horses.

In one village, an emaciated young widow, her hair unbound in mourning, fell on her knees when he and his men passed, wailing, begging him to end her life, saying she had lost her husband, father and brother at Kadesh. Without any milk, her infant son had starved so she had strangled him, only to cook and eat his withered flesh herself. She followed after them, pleading, desperate, longing for death. None of them had looked at her, and that night as he sat beside a meager fire with his men, no one spoke. Darkness had fallen on Hatti. The gods had turned their backs against her king. None would be spared. In the gods' eyes all were equal, all would suffer for Muwatallis's crimes. Many would die.

Urhi-Teshub passed through the gate into the empty outer courtyard of the Court of the Sun, the wind breaking free of its restraints. It roared across the open space, cutting through his snow-encrusted tunic, carrying the faint smell of baking bread. His stomach cried out, clenching hard at the scent of warm food. Five days had passed since he had eaten the last of his rations, sharing a dried biscuit between six men; the horses forced to subsist on what frozen grass could be found between the rocky clefts of the uninhabited valleys between the mountain passes.

At night, as his stomach cramped, his body surrounded by the relentless, bitter cold, Urhi-Teshub shivered in his blanket, slipping in and out of broken dreams where he saw Istara, safe and warm on a sunlit terrace, at a table overflowing with roasted cuts of calf and glistening fillets of fish. An Egyptian man—a warrior—gazed at her, tender, as he fed her from his own platter, his actions intimate, private, possessive. Other dreams showed her walking in opulent gardens, gathering flowers, smiling and happy, wearing elegant, near-transparent gowns and jewelry fit for a queen. And then there were other dreams, ones that made Urhi-Teshub's heart ache until he feared it would break, of the warrior taking her in his arms and kissing her the way Urhi-Teshub longed to do—of Istara returning the warrior's ardor, clinging to him as he took his fill of her, welcoming his attention as she had once, long ago, welcomed Urhi-Teshub's.

Each time, he would wake with a start and stare at the glittering stars as they processed, slow, across the black canopy of the heavens, and wonder who the Egyptian was, if he was real or just a phantom of his deepest fear, resurrected from the careless words he had once said, unthinking, never expecting them to come true.

During the long, slow weeks of their harrowing journey to Tarhuntassa, when time felt as though it stood still and the sun hung low and pale in an indifferent, white-washed sky, the memory of the morning after his wedding would replay in his mind—the details precise, aching with clarity. Bathed in the golden light of a new day, Istara had told him she would never love again. His reply had been reckless, desperate, foolish. He had sworn he could not wish such a lonely existence on her, had said he would permit her to love another if it brought her back to him. He looked at the gold-clad pillar of Teshub's temple rising up over the walls of the palace, dull in the gray light. What sane man would allow his wife to love another?

The Rise of the Goddess 

The Transcendence Series Book 3 

Istara found the courage to meet Sethi's eyes. In his, the anguish of his love, untainted by the darkness. He was going to leave her. Tears blazed a path through her soul. He drew her against him as she wept, as she accepted what he already knew. For them, there could only be war.

'A SUPERB FINALE. YOU WON'T BE DISAPPOINTED.' KATHERINE STANSFIELD, AUTHOR OF THE MERMAID'S CALL

In a world older than time, a portal stirs from its long slumber. From out of its cerulean mists, the warship of the scion of darkness and destroyer of worlds emerges. With its gods long gone, Elati is a world ripe for the taking. Marduk intends to take it all.

Corrupted by Marduk's devices, Sethi succumbs to the grip of evil. A brutal, merciless commander, he oppresses the kingdoms of Elati, his violence awakening a weapon of the deepest darkness. Poisoned by lies and tainted by hate, he thirsts for its power to obliterate the light of the one he once loved beyond all reason.

Desperate to reprieve Sethi from his corruption, Istara pursues her last hope, risking everything to retrieve powerful artifacts of Thoth's, her light her only defense against the growing darkness—and the one determined to annihilate her.

Bound by love and driven by duty, Urhi-Teshub reaches the threshold of his destiny, where he faces the horrifying price he must pay to protect Istara.

And at the heart of an abandoned island of gods, surrounded by an endless storm, an eternal tower awaits. Caught in the crosshairs of a primordial war for supremacy, Sethi and Istara must face each other one final time. Darkness and light. Enemies. Lovers. Gods.

The Rise of the Goddess is the final book in the Transcendence series. 

**Get all three books FREE April 23 – 25!!** 

Goodreads * Amazon

"If you take that one," a quiet voice said from beyond the vault's open door, "you will regret it." A slim woman emerged from the shadows, her skin flawless, a midnight marble burnished by the torchlight. "Urhi-Teshub," she said, "I am Sekhmet." A greeting, of sorts.

Clad from neck to toe in fitted black leather, she glided over to him, her movements sleek, mesmerizing, graceful. She came to a halt behind him and ran her hand along the weapon's enormous barrel. "I like the way you think." Her words washed over him, rich, luxurious, a fountain of dark, red wine. "When it comes to Marduk, bigger usually is better. But perhaps, not this time."

He turned, unwilling to leave his back exposed to her. Teshub had once confided Sekhmet was wild and unpredictable. She met his eyes, hers a dark, molten gold, fathomless, unreadable. He did not look away, refused to let her think him afraid. A faint smile touched her lips.

"Thoth tells me you were once the king of a great empire." Her gaze slid over him, impassive. She took his hand and turned his palm upward, exposed the lines marking the path of his life. "It appears you are an honorable man," she said. "Of pure heart. A great warrior. Noble. Just. At times, stubborn." She paused to trace her forefinger over his scar of binding. "Hmmm." She let go of his hand and turned to examine his chosen array of weapons. "I have decided to aid Thoth." She shot an enigmatic look at Urhi-Teshub. "Osiris took it upon himself to point out my ship is the fastest."

"I am in your debt," Urhi-Teshub said, hoping he sounded more grateful than he felt. When she lifted one of Marduk's devices, Urhi-Teshub cut an oblique look at her, his curiosity getting the better of him. After the tales he had heard of the goddess of war, he had expected her to be savage, bloodthirsty, brutal; her visage disfigured, ugly from glorying in violence. Teshub had said she was a loner, friendless, her rage during battle terrifying, legendary. Known as the queen of revenge, death, and destruction—she was a goddess to be feared and avoided. Urhi-Teshub had heard the stories, what she was capable of in battle, her brutality far beyond anything his father had done. After the things he had heard, he never could have expected a woman like this, clad in beauty, elegance, and grace, her features even, perfect, as though carved by a master sculptor. She turned, caught his frank appraisal. He turned away, but there was nothing to look at it except the wall.

She laughed, soft. It washed over him, honeyed and warm. "You have heard the stories about me."

"Who hasn't," he said, hauling the strap away from his shoulder. He dropped the weapon back onto the table. It landed between them, hitting the wood with a dense thud. He met her eyes again. "I admit you are not who I expected."

"I am never what anyone expects," Sekhmet returned. She reached past him to pick up a slim pair of blunt-nosed weapons, their polished metal reflecting the flames of the torches. "Take these." She held the weapons out to him. "Where we are going, we will not have much room to maneuver."

He took them with a murmur of thanks and waited for her to select more. Though she picked up several pieces and set them down again, she gave him nothing else. With only two weapons, he felt exposed. Unprepared. Even escorting Istara along the palace's corridors, he carried twice as much. His gaze slid back to the largest weapon. He could stow it in the ship—

"Not that one," Sekhmet said, following his look. "There is a better one." She went to where the weapons of the gods were set out, and opened a metal case. From within its depths she retrieved a long-barreled weapon along with a leather harness. "Wear this on your thigh," she said, handing him the harness, before letting him take the weapon. "This is only to be used when there are no other options left."

Urhi-Teshub took the weapon. Made of black metal, it looked similar to the design of Marduk's weapons, although unlike them, this one had a pleasing, reassuring heft. He took hold of its grip and held it up, admiring its simple design, liking it already. "What does it do?"

"It is one of Set's," Sekhmet answered. "Those targeted by it will turn against their own. But the effect is brief, and once they return to their senses, they will come back with a vengeance." She touched it, reverent. "Be sure not to lose it. Set dismembers those who offend him."

He sensed she hoped for a reaction; he gave her none. Instead: "Will it work on Marduk's patrols?" he asked, eyeing the length of the weapon, nearer to that of a short sword, imagining what it could have wrought in his world—what he could have done with it at Kadesh.

Sekhmet nodded. "Patrols. Ships' weapons. It is the only thing we possess apart from the pyramids' cores which can overcome Marduk's devices."

Urhi-Teshub lifted a brow, impressed. He turned the weapon over in his hands, appreciating anew the balance and weight of it. "I could do a lot of damage with this."

"You could, but you won't," Sekhmet said. Her gaze drifted once more to the weapons taken from the Etemen'anki. She eyed them, cool, her expression tightening. "It is regrettable there is only the one or we could have escaped without the loss of my sister and brothers." She fell silent, though sorrow tainted the curve of her lips. "This time we must be quiet. But the next time, we fight."

She went to the door. Her eyes touched his. A flicker of her fury scorched him, a furnace of hate, buried alive. "You have my word." The heat faded. Sorrow returned. She cut a look at the windows. "A storm is coming."

E A Carter is a British-Canadian who lives in Sweden.

Her debut novel The Lost Valor of Love is the first book in the Transcendence series and a finalist winner in the First Novel and Historical Fiction categories in the 2019 Indie Author Network's Book of the Year Awards.

When not at the keyboard, she can be found photographing the world around her. Between 2014-2015 she held three exhibitions of her photographs, two by invitation from the city's Kulturhuset. Her work has been seen on national television, and her black and white photography has won two contests, one in the US and one in Sweden. 

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***Notice: Nicolie-Olie's Meanderings is HOSTING a spot on Silver Dagger Book Tours. Choosing a Prize Winner and Delivery of Prize is not under the responsibility of Nicolie-Olie's Meanderings***

Tour runs from 04/09/20 - 05/09/20 - Daily Entry, Open WW, Age of Majority
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Two (2) Prizes:  $15 Amazon Gift Card each 

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