By Dave Wolverton, David Farland
While Gallen O'Day is employed as a bodyguard to escort a tender lady during the woods to the forbidden ruins at Geata Na Chruinn, it kind of feels like a typical job--but all too quickly, he unearths himself fleeing for his lifestyles from creatures that appear like escapees from a nightmare--the alien dronon, led through their golden queen.
With his ally, a genetically engineered speaking endure named Orick, and his female friend Maggie, Gallen quickly reveals himself tangled in an interstellar struggle that he by no means knew existed, racing throughout a number of worlds, faced through a destiny not like any that he had ever imagined.
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Extra info for Beyond The Gate (The Golden Queen, Book 2)
But it seemed to have little effect on his forty followers, and Proteus wondered how many were really listening to anything the leader said. But then a few of the men did seem to be made vaguely uneasy by their leader's manner; they exchanged glances among themselves, and no one quite knew how to respond. Jason seemed to suddenly become aware of this unfavorable reaction, for now he raised his voice decisively, saying he had decided it was time to make clear certain matters that seemed to be generally misunderstood.
Come to think of it, it was the nameless woman who had commanded secrecy. With an inward sigh Proteus acknowledged to himself that whatever secret she wanted kept was safe enough for the time being, since he himself could not remember what it was. And then he was brought back, with a start, to his immediate situation. Jason had just said something that required a response, and was looking at him expectantly. "I would like to know," repeated the leader, in a tone of patient tolerance, "just what happened to the boat?
Athlete maybe, servant, maybe. But the more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed that he had been a sailor, one of the crew bringing a load of servants to their destination. In any case his earlier self, who he was beginning to think of as Old Proteus, had been nominally free; his neck was not encircled by any metal collar indicating slavery. Servant, sailor, or whatever, the evidence said he'd certainly been accustomed to hard, physical work, and not unfamiliar with oars and spears. Now if only he could recall his orders from the mysterious woman—but they lay still tantalizingly out of reach.