“Hall of Smoke is the kind of fantasy I love, filled with both high stakes and tender, nuanced human emotion. Add to that lyrical writing and intriguing world building, and you have a truly special debut. Not to be missed.”
Jessica Cluess, author of the Kingdom on Fire series and House of Dragons
“Long’s writing is elegantly understated, filling out Hessa’s complex world without ever stranding us – we are with her through every stumble and triumph. Hall of Smoke is ultimately a book about what it means to have your deepest illusions shattered and still scrape together the courage to begin again. A vivid and compelling debut.”
Lucy Holland, author of Sistersong
“Hall of Smoke is a breath of fresh air. The world is unique, the fights are top-notch, and the cast is unforgettable. A dazzling, fast-paced story with clashing civilizations, squabbling gods, and an indomitable heroine caught in the center of it all, Hessa’s is a tale that will grab you from the very first line and won’t let you go. I can’t wait to see what Long comes up with next.”
Genevieve Cornichec, author of The Witch’s Heart
“Hessa is a brilliantly written heroine, and I could easily have spent another 400 pages with her. The book’s world-building is intricate and refreshingly original, and it all ramps up to a finale that is the dictionary definition of epic.”
Allison Epstein, author of A Tip for the Hangman
“I have rarely read a fantasy novel that transported me like Hall of Smoke did. If you are a fan of myths and legends where gods and goddesses roam the earth and meddle with the poor mortals that serve them, you are in for an absolute treat with this book.”
M. J. Kuhn, author of Among Thieves
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Hall of Smoke
Print edition ISBN: 9781789094985
E-book edition ISBN: 9781789094992
Published by Titan Books
A division of Titan Publishing Group Ltd
144 Southwark Street, London SE1 0UP
First edition: January 2021
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This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead (except for satirical purposes), is entirely coincidental.
© H. M. Long 2021. All Rights Reserved.
H. M. Long asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
To Grandpa Ian, with love
ALGATT, EANGEN, AND THE NORTHERN TERRITORIES OF THE ARPA EMPIRE
ONE
The shrine in the meadow before me was little more than a weathered collection of beams and tiles and stark angles. Poppies were scattered around it, fluttering under the gathering skies, and wood was stacked beside the low stone altar. But there were no ashes in the offering bowl, no scuffs on the earthen floor – only a handful of dangling bones, grey feathers and carved owls.
I was the first to offend the goddess this season.
I pulled warm air into my lungs and sagged against a nearby tree. Higher up the mountain, unyielding evergreens dominated, but here the forest was more varied. I stood under fresh summer leaves and filtered sunlight, each lending me a sense of protection as I willed my legs to stop shaking and eyed the shrine of Eang, Goddess of War. My goddess.
The wind gusted, sending the poppies reeling and pushing me towards the waiting shrine.
I forced myself to move, leaving the shelter of the tree and stepping out into the meadow. The mountaintop came into view on my left, bracketed by looming rainclouds, while forested foothills, streams and small lakes spread in every other direction. A town – a ring wall containing mossy thatch roofs and trails of smoke – lay down there. My family, my people, lay down there. And, if the goddess heard me, I would return to them by nightfall.
I pried my eyes from home, stifled the fear in my chest, and focused on the shrine. Before I passed into its shadow, I eased my worn legs into a kneel.
“Eang, Eang.” I whispered the name of my goddess and pressed my palms into the earth. The beaded leather tying my braid fell beside them with a soft thump. “The Brave, the Vengeful, the Swift and the Watchful. I’ve come to pledge atonement. I…”
My confession stuck on my tongue. The breeze increased and the patter of my heart turned into a torrent. I cracked open my eyes and saw the poppies, blood-red and black-eyed, arching in the corner of my vision.
“Eang, please don’t kill me,” I whispered. “I didn’t know it was him.”
My lungs didn’t seize. No beast leapt from the forest to justly devour me. The breeze merely departed, and the trills of songbirds took its place.
I crawled into the cool of the shrine and pulled my tinderbox from the pouch at my waist. I didn’t stand again until I had lit a fire in the offering bowl, and even then, I kept my head bowed.
Back on my feet, I opened the fine scars on the ends of my fingers and let droplets of blood fall, one by one, into the flames.
The rain began as I stepped outside to finish my prayers. I supposed I deserved that, but I still gritted my teeth as I took up position, straight-backed, head bowed, palms open beside my hips and facing forward. My left hand, the one I had cut, stung fiercely. I deserved that, too.
Inside the shrine, fire danced for the goddess, but I was forbidden from sheltering beneath its roof. So, I stood under the open sky while the rain ran through my hair and soaked my tunic, darkening its pale green into a deeper, clinging shade.
“Eang,” I began again. “In your name I sheltered a traveler in the Hall…”
The rain continued, steady and mild. I brushed the back of a salty hand across my mouth and adjusted my stance, the memory of an unassuming smile on a bearded face playing through my mind.
“I didn’t know he was an Algatt, Goddess. I didn’t realize he was the one until it was too late and then… I was weak. I didn’t heed the vision. Please, hear me.”
Blood and rain ran down my splayed fingers, converging at the tips in a steady pink drip.
“Let me go. Let me find him.” Something blasphemous and bitter coiled inside me in resistance, but I kept speaking. “I’ll finish the task you gave me.”
The rain increased. I let my hands relax and stared at the fire. It burned brightly against the damp and gloom, but nothing unnatural happened. The High Priestess had assured me that there would be a sign if the goddess accepted my pledge. I had seen those signs before – one didn’t grow up in the Hall of Smoke, the seat of Eang’s priesthood, without witnessing them.