Blog Tour: Broken City Series by D.D. Chant


Broken City
Broken City #1
Genre/Age Group- 16+
By- D.D. Chant


A girl with no future
A man with no past
A little lost boy
And those who seek to find him....


....Welcome to Deeta's world.


Deeta Richards has never seen the outside world. Before she was born a banking crisis brought civilization to an end and now no one leaves the safety of the compounds unless they need to, but Deeta still dreams of seeing more than the building she was born in.

Tom is in the guard, this group are the only people that the tribal elders allow to leave the compound and Tom knows only too well that Deeta could never survive the harshness that exists outside. Then tragedy strikes and Deeta and her Sister Jan find themselves captured by a hostile tribe. Why does Tom know so much about these people? And why do they know so much about him? As this mystery draws to a climax, they discover that their friend Tom is not quite what he seems...

**Broken City is FREE right now! **

EXCERPT

The unspeakable pain that encases my head is so all consuming that for the first few minutes of consciousness, all I can do is remain completely still where I lay. By and by I manage, with my eyes still closed, to take a rough stock of my surroundings. The surface that I am stretched out on is hard, and there is the faint sensation of motion. Above me I can hear the low murmur of whispered conversation, then I remember Jan. My eyes open quickly, too quickly I realise as my eyes react painfully to the light. I turn my head to find, with relief, that Jan is laying beside me. Her dark eyelashes are lying peacefully on her cheeks, so she must still be unconscious. I close my eyes again, trying to fight the nausea welling up within me but the motion is making it worse. “Looks like one of them is coming round.” The voice is unfamiliar. “Best thing you can do is turn her lights out for her.” Comes a second, faintly aggrieved, and more familiar voice. I open my eyes again and blink slowly, carefully, a few times to bring the speakers into focus. There is a row of seats to each side of us, occupied by soldiers, four to a side. Their visors are up, and they stare down at our hitherto inert forms interestedly. For some moments I stare at them as they are staring at me, before the hazy recollection that I am only wearing pyjamas crawls into my mind. It’s immediately followed by the reassuring secondary realisation that we have been further covered by rough woollen blankets. There is a sudden lurch as movement stops, and the soldiers open the tailgate of what I now perceive is a truck. A moan beside me signals Jan’s struggle toward consciousness. “Come on, missy, up you get.” One of the soldiers holds my arm, and is gently trying to encourage me to rise. “Come on, up you get; you’ll feel better soon.” For a second I stare at him blankly. “I’m sorry.” Turning abruptly I throw up, and I hear rather than see him pull away from me. “I’m really sorry.” Again a wave of nausea sweeps over me and I convulse. “I’m so sorry!” My voice is unsteady and my whole form trembling. “That’s alright, missy, are you going to…” He makes a sketchy gesture. “No, no; I’m fine now.” I can feel moisture standing icy cold on my brow. “Come on now, missy.” He wraps the blanket around me more securely, and lifts me into his arms. “James, lad, get the other one would you?” He calls over his shoulder. I hadn’t realised that I’d been out of it for so long, but the sky is bright, and sunshine gives me a headache. Closing my eyes against the harshness of the light, the sickness I’m feeling lessens. I hear a door open, and the crunch of gravel ceases as he steps into a noisy room. I turn my head into his shoulder away from the glaring lights. “And to the victor goes the spoil, hey, Simon?” “Hello, sir, I’m glad to see you safe,” answers my captor. “Have a bit of a struggle with her did you? I’d have thought…” The amused voice stops suddenly, and when he next speaks his voice is low. “You’d better get her to a bed.” “Yes, sir, I’m on my way to the ward.” “No!” His voice is harsh, and he moderates his tone for his next words. “She isn’t as bad as all that. She just needs some quiet; take her to a holding room.” “But, sir, she’s had a nasty hit to the back of her head, shouldn’t a doctor—” “Take her to the holding room, Simon, and be as quick as you can.” The voice commands authoritatively. “But there’s another girl...” “Then take them both!” I’m only half aware of the conversation taking place, being more concerned by my discomfort than anything else. We begin to move again and the hubbub gets fainter, until the only sound is that of Simon and James footsteps. The bed that I am placed on is hard, and covered in a plastic that crackles when I move. I lay still listening to the sound of my captor creeping around the room quietly. Soon he comes to stand near the bed again. “Here, missy; this’ll make you feel better.” He raises my head and shoulders, and I sip gratefully at the water he is holding to my lips. When I’m finished he lays me gently back down on the bed, and I open my eyes into narrow slits. My helper is a tall man with thick gray hair and blue eyes. “What’s your name?” “Simon Rush at your service, missy,” he answers promptly. “And what’s yours?” “Deeta Richards, please could you tell me what you’ve done with my sister?” “She’s next door sleeping like a baby,” he answers. “So you’re sisters are you? I thought as much. What’s your sister’s name?” “Jan… please sir; is she alright?” I try to sit up at this juncture, but he pushes me back down. “Don’t worry; she’s fine. She’ll have a headache like yours when she comes round, but she’ll be ok. The best thing both of you can do is sleep.” The plastic covering crackles as he stands, but before he can leave I grab his hand. “Thank you, Mr. Rush, for all your kindness; I’ll not forget it.”


   


Broken Truce
Broken City # 2
Genre/Age Group- 16+
By- D.D. Chant

Life isn't turning out the way that Deeta thought it would. With the Lewises defeated and peace between the tribes, she had believed that the dark times were a thing of the past.
But troubles between the tribes continue, and the Andak council have selected Tom as their ambassador and spokesman to the other tribes.

Deeta knows that there is still much resentment against the Andak, and that Tom is in danger every time he leaves the safety of Andak City.

Struggling with her own complicated feelings against the tribe that she is now a part of, Deeta tries to ignore the changing attitudes growing within her.

But when Tom is betrayed and they are thrown into great danger, Deeta finds that reality can't be ignored forever…



EXCERPT

The keys jangle in the lock and the soldier pulls the door open, his grin displaying gaps where his two front teeth should have been.
“Well come on, stop hiding in the shadows, no need to be scared of me.”
Tom doesn’t answer him but walks past him and in to the room beyond. Presented with Tom’s back the soldier seems to lose what little sense he has, he launches himself at Tom. Tom twists away from him, catching his collar as he passes and ramming him in to the opposite wall.
A dull crack fills the room as the soldier’s head connects with stone work, he collapses, sinking to his knees and groaning. With a sharp expletive, the second soldier comes at Tom slowly, very cautiously.
They circle each other measuringly, looking for weaknesses, for any opening. This soldier is younger than the first, not so beefy, but still strong. He holds back, studying Tom even as Tom studies him.
He’s better trained, Tom realises, not the mindless thug that usually passed for a Lewis soldier. This man had been taught caution, to think three moves ahead of his opponent. This man was dangerous, but he used his brain, so maybe there was a chance that he could be reasoned with.
“We don’t have to do this.” Tom holds his hands up, palms outward. “I’ll go back into my cell and we can forget this happened.”
The soldier smiles menacingly.
“You’d love that, wouldn’t you; to get your own way here, just like you do in the City.”
His left hand falls to his waist and he pulls free a six inch long blade. One edge is curved down into a point, the other carved into jagged notches that gleam in the artificial light. Tom’s face loses all expression, his hands curl into fists and he raises them slightly.
“You shouldn’t have done that.”
“What’s wrong?” spits the soldier tauntingly. “Are you scared?”
Tom’s eyes never waver from the face, filled with fury, before him.
“You fight with fists the worst you’re going to get is some bruises, maybe a few broken bones, but you had to go and pull and knife. One of us is going to end this bleeding.” Tom’s voice drops, his tone blank. “It won’t be me.”
The soldier laughs, an angry, mocking sound.
“Arrogant son of a…”
Before the soldier can say another word, Tom’s fist crashes into his mouth silencing him abruptly. He staggers back, eyes dilated in shock.
“If you want to make it out of this fight alive, I suggest you leave my mother out of this.”
“You crazy bas…”
Tom’s eyes snap coldly.
“I mean it; you’ll leave my mother out of this if you want to continue breathing.”
With a quick thrust, the soldier slashes his knife through the air. Tom jerks back and pivots, catching hold of his knife arm. They sway together dangerously, crashing into chairs and the table.
It isn’t a pretty fight, there’s no time to do anything but react, and more than once Tom finds himself deflecting the blade at the last possible second. They struggle together a little longer, beginning to pant as their exertion slows them down a little.
Tom reflects grimly that if he wasn’t being so careful about hurting the guy, he would have finished him already. He couldn’t cause the brute too much damage, it would only mean more trouble in the long run, more of these pointless, posturing fights.
Tom knew if he gave in to his desire to have it over and done with quickly, it would become a point of honour, and the rest of the soldiers would consider it their duty to grind the prisoner into the ground. That was the last think he needed, he had enough to worry about without taking gladiatorial events in to account.
Ned’s voice interrupted his thoughts, calling out a frantic warning and Tom turned just in time to see the first solder, recovered from his close inspection of the wall, baring down on him with a chair levelled at his head.
Tom has no time to avoid the blow, but raises his arm slightly to deflect it from his head to his right shoulder. The force sends him reeling backward, clutching at his arm. The first soldier stands, the chair now a splintered wreck in his hands, and glares Ned.
“You warned him.” His voice is filled with shock.
Ned’s eyes widened in fear, and his mouth opens and closees a few times without any sound coming out.
“What’s wrong with you, shrimp?” The furious soldier advances on the boy slowly. “Forgotten whose side you’re on, have you?”
Ned backed away nervously, his hands rising in a pleading gesture.
“C-captain Max said…”
“Captain Max said,” mimics the soldier. “Take a look around you, shrimp: Captain Max isn’t here.”
He makes a lunge for the boy, catching him by the collar, but Ned manages to twist away. He skids across the floor to stand beside Tom, his retreat only making the two soldiers angrier. With a deft flick of his wrist, the second soldier throws his knife and Ned closes his eyes, bracing himself for the pain of impact.
The moments pass and the boy prises one eye open.
Tom’s arm is stretched out in front of him, on a level with Ned’s throat. The knife is buried deep in his forearm, blood beginning to ooze from wound to drip on the floor. The room is silent, Ned’s horrified gaze transfers from the gruesome sight of the blade protruding from Tom’s arm, to Tom’s white face and icy expression. He coldly appraises the men before him, and the two soldiers expressions fill with horror and fear.




   

About the Author -
Hi everyone!

My name is Dee Dee, I'm twenty seven and I live in a beautiful part of Devon, England, with my family.

That introduction made me feel a little bit like I was on Blind Date!!!

As our house is in the countryside we have some unusual neighbours including chickens, ducks, geese, pheasants, a cat (that adopted us when we moved in!!!) and some koi. I also have a very long suffering younger sister, Jingle, who is a brilliant guitar player. She keeps me supplied with coffee and brownies, generally making sure that the Chant household doesn't grind to a halt.

I really hope you enjoy reading my books as much as I enjoy writing them.

I love reading and have a kindle, I enjoy almost every genre; if there is adventure and romance I'll be there with coffee and a brownie! I also like to cook and wear impractical high heels! You may also have noticed that I have a horrible addiction to exclamation marks!!!

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