Jamie Marchant's Blog, page 29
November 25, 2016
Who's Reality is this Any Way? Blog Tour
Whose Reality Is This Anyway? by David Luddington
Genre : Humor, Satire, Fantasy
Reading David Luddington is like “Like reading your favourite sitcom.”– Nigel Planer
“The funniest book of the year.”
– Claire Ashton, Editor the Book Reviewer.
Retired stage magician turned professional mystic debunker, John Barker, finds his sceptical beliefs under fire when he encounters a strange man who claims to be Merlin. After several unsuccessful attempts to rid himself of his increasingly unpredictable companion, John finally relents and agrees to assist in the man’s crazy mission, to find the true grave of the mythical King Arthur.Following a hidden code contained within the text of a soft porn novel, they gather a growing entourage of hippies, mystic seekers and alien hunters as they leave a trail of chaos across the south west of England. When the group comes to the attention of a TV Reality Show producer looking to make a fast profit out of harmless eccentrics and fading celebrities, John decides it’s time to take charge and prove one way or the other, the identity of this mysterious person who claims to be a fictional wizard.“Whose reality is this anyway?” is a warm-hearted tale of what it means to be an individual and to follow one’s dreams. With his trademark cast of oddball characters and absurd situations, David Luddington once more transports us into a world where who you are is more important than what you are.
“David Luddington epitomizes the elusive quality of writing that he perpetuates - the British Comedy.” – Grady Harp
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In case you don't know, I write comedy. Gentle British comedy. Having grown up with P.G. Wodehouse, the Ealing Comedies and the Carry On movies I like to think I've captured the essence of traditional British Humour but brought it firmly into the... where are we now? No... Not going to think about that.I also write to a theme. I write about identity, the personae we use to identify ourselves in the world and what happens when that's suddenly taken from us. Who are we when the wave we've been riding all these years dumps us on the shores of Couldn't-Care-Less and moves on? Having been dumped by two big waves I do feel somewhat of an authority.Primarily I write comedy because I want people to laugh a bit more. I believe in Hope and Second Chances and like to bring a positive feel to my writing. And it doesn't matter if the glass is half empty or half full as long as it's still got at least some beer in it. Although if you're looking for cruel, biting satire then please buy my books anyway. You'll be disappointed but I need the money.So, about me. I currently live in the Alpujarras in Southern Spain. I'm here on a fact finding mission for my next book. At least that's what's going on my tax return. I am fortunate enough to have been given a second chance at life. Having spent most of my working life in Sales and Marketing, at all levels and many different industries, I was finally dumped one last time when the industry I was in found it could no longer survive so much government help and finally collapsed.I now live in a funny little house in a strange little valley with my wife and soulmate (Just hope they never bump into each other), one dog and an indeterminate number of cats.
Website * Goodreads * Amazon * Facebook * Twitter
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The Executioner Trilogy Blog Tour
Follow the Ashes Book 1 of the Executioner Trilogy
by Kindra Sowder
Genre: Urban Fantasy
What does it mean to be the Executioner? Is it the struggle between good and evil, and the fulfillment of a Gypsy legend?For Robin, it’s simply another day in the park in downtown LA. It’s killing the undead as she attempts to juggle life and love the same as any other ordinary woman would. That is until she meets Gordon, a crazed demon with a conscience. Now she must battle an ancient evil far more powerful then she’s ever faced before, or risk losing the world to Lilith, the mother of all vampires.Will she save mankind? Or will we all follow the ashes of destruction as we burn in Hell?Goodreads * Amazon
Follow the Screams The Executioner Trilogy Book 2
Robin had made the ultimate sacrifice; losing life, love and fate in the process.Or so it seemed.When all hope was lost her destiny was finally made clear.What would you do if you were trapped in a prison where most were put there by you?You rise…
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Follow the Bloodshed The Executioner Trilogy Book 3
Robin had gone toe-to-toe with Lilith, losing everything. Now she is back in the explosive final chapter of the Executioner Trilogy for revenge. After emerging from Hell, lying in her cold and dark grave, she is thrust into a world that she would’ve never thought possible; filled with creatures she never imagined. And her power is growing. Los Angeles is a ghost town, with the world following close behind. It is up to her to stop Lilith and bring humanity back from the brink of extinction.Goodreads * Amazon
Kindra Sowder was born and raised in Rancho Palos Verdes, CA until the age of 12, when her family moved to Spartanburg, SC. She graduated from high school in 2006 with full honors and as a member of her high school Literary Club and the Spanish Honor Society. In January 2014, she graduated with her second degree in Psychology, earning her an AA and BA in the field. She began to write long before this though, forming the basis for the Executioner Trilogy (being released in January 2015) at the age of 15. She got married to her husband Edd Sowder in May 2014 and still lives in Spartanburg, SC where she is basing Burning Willow Press. She dissolved her contract with another company, deciding to form her own. She based the company around the idea that she would be fair to all of its authors and not just a select few. She has decided to show that she has complete faith and trust in her own press by publishing her own works with her own company.To keep up with Kindra Sowder:Website * Facebook * Twitter * Instagram * LinkedIn * Amazon * Goodreads
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November 22, 2016
Kentucky Thanksgiving
I'm going to my sister's for Thanksgiving this week, so I won't be keeping my normal blog schedule. But there will be two blog tours on Friday, both of which have contests you can enter. Check them out on Black Friday, and remember that books make great presents. But most of all have a fantastic Turkey Day.
November 21, 2016
The Ghost in Exile Release Day Coming
The Ghost in Exile is due to be released this Friday. In anticipation of its release, I have published Chapter 2 below, in which he meet The Ghost as a youth when he used the name Ahearn. Remember autographed copies are available on my website for the pre-release price of $13 through Friday. Ebooks are available on Amazon.
Chapter TwoAhearn sat at a table in the back of the king’s stable eating porridge with his fellow stable grooms, Gille and Jowan. The three of them had grown up together, first as stable boys, now as grooms. The king’s stable was huge, housing more than a hundred horses. A cool morning breeze was blowing in through the open door, so it wasn’t as unbearably hot as it would be at midday. He struggled not to smile. Today it was his turn to accompany the queen on her ride. He couldn’t let his friends suspect that he no longer dreaded his turn as they did theirs.“I’m glad I got two more days until I have to do it again,” Gille said, scratching at his sorry excuse for a beard. “You better pray she’s in a better mood than she was yesterday, and make sure you clean her saddle, her horse, everything until they sparkle, and I mean shiny. You know how prissy she is. Yesterday she found a speck of dirt on her saddle and yelled about me to Eamon for nearly fifteen minutes. I thought she was going to order me flogged.”Ahearn rubbed his much fuller beard, which Fenella said made him look manly. She also said its auburn color enhanced his masculinity further. Ahearn wasn’t sure why, but who was he to question the queen?The Master of the Horse came up behind them. “See that you do, Ahearn,” Eamon said. “I do not want to get another earful today. If it’d been you that left the speck, I have no doubt she would have ordered at least ten lashes. Not that she likes any of us, but she especially seems to have it in for you.”“Yes, sir,” Ahearn answered, struggling to keep his smile suppressed. Their plan was working. No one seemed to have the slightest suspicion of what they were up to.“Can’t you talk to the king, sir?” Jowan asked. “Get her bodyguards back on her at least. Then there’d be witnesses if she said we did anything wrong. I don’t want to hang because she got her monthlies or something.”“I tried, boys, but His Majesty says the queen is insistent in not wanting bodyguards following her around, and he still won’t allow her to ride unaccompanied. Someone needs to be near in case of an accident.” Ahearn couldn’t tell them about the tantrum Fenella had had to throw to get His Majesty to dismiss her bodyguards or her reason for wanting them gone. “Just keep at a respectful distance, and you needn’t worry overly much. The king knows what she’s like, and he’d never order you hanged on her word alone. A thorough flogging is probably the worse you have to fear.”“A flogging’s the worst?” Gille said. “I saw Calder’s back after he was flogged. I might rather hang.”Eamon put his hands on Ahearn’s shoulders and squeezed them in a manner that reminded Ahearn of his dead uncle, who had been Eamon’s best friend. “You know I’ll always do my best for you boys, and it might well be that your fear of the queen is exaggerated. She’s only a girl, after all.” Jowan and Gille both scoffed loudly. Eamon patted Ahearn’s shoulder. “All the same, do make sure everything is perfect. You better get a move on it, so you have plenty of time.”“Yes, sir.” Ahearn jumped to his feet. Ahearn grabbed an apple from the barrel and headed for Alita’s stall near the front of the stables, next to the king’s own gelding. The queen’s white mare nickered at the sight of him. He held out the apple and scratched her neck in the way she liked. “You like me almost as much as your mistress does, don’t you?” he whispered, as he began brushing the coat she always managed to dirty. “She could have had almost anybody, but she chose me. For a bastard son of a whore, I don’t think I’ve done too badly for myself.” The truth was he never would have gotten this job if it hadn’t been for his uncle. He almost started whistling, but he heard someone coming and stopped himself. He shouldn’t seem happy.Gille stopped in front of Alita’s stall. “I have just the thing to cheer you up. Jowan just found out from Dewin who found out from Laoch that there’s going to be a dance tonight at the weaver’s guild hall. You remember how fine the girls were last time.”A few months ago Ahearn wouldn’t have hesitated, but Fenella would throw a fit if he danced with another girl. “I’m a little worn out. Go without me.”“Not that excuse again!” Jowan joined them. “You need a new girl. Stop moaning over Sorcha. You know she’s doing it with Gradh now.”“As if I care who that kitchen slut fucks,” Ahearn scowled. A few months ago he’d cared a great deal. He’d lost his virginity to Sorcha, but it hadn’t taken her long to decide she preferred the uniform of the Royal Guard to the stink of the stables. Gille and Jowan looked at each other with raised eyebrows. Gille shook his head, and Jowan shrugged. If they thought he wasn’t over Sorcha, they’d never guess what he was really up to. “I’ll go get Hellfire ready for you,” Jowan said, as Ahearn got down Alita’s saddle. Hellfire was a jet-black gelding with a personality that matched his name. The queen always insisted whoever accompanied her ride him because he provided the perfect contrast for her mare.When the horses were groomed and saddled, Ahearn and Jowan led them toward the stable door. Eamon stopped them and looked the horses over. “Just want to be sure the queen has nothing to complain about.” When Eamon was satisfied, they led the horses out to the mounting blocks. Ahearn handed Alita’s reins to Gille, so he could be ready to assist the queen in mounting.The side palace door opened, and a woman emerged. Ahearn couldn’t see her well from this distance, but he had no doubt it was the queen. Jowan let out a whistle as she got close enough for them to see the way her riding dress clung to her curves. Her long blond hair was tied back in a braid. “Her Majesty is certainly easy on the eyes,” Gille said. “If she weren’t such a bitch, I’d almost pity her for being married to a man old enough to be her grandfather.”“Try great-grandfather,” Jowan said. “His Majesty is over seventy, and the queen just turned fifteen.”“Maybe that’s why she acts the way she does,” Ahearn said, before he could stop himself. They didn’t understand how awful it had been for her when her father sold her to the king. Gille nodded. “You have a point. But I hear His Majesty’s tiring of her. He spends far more time with his mistress.” The queen was getting close enough she might overhear, so they stopped talking and waited at respectful attention. They all bowed when she reached the mounting blocks.“You again?” The queen looked at Ahearn like he was a piece of horse shit.“If you’d prefer, Your Majesty, someone else could accompany you.”“What I prefer is to ride alone.” She accepted Ahearn’s assistance in mounting. It was hard to make his body behave when she was close.“I’m sorry, Your Majesty, but His Majesty’s orders are that you are to be accompanied.”“Just keep your distance,” she said, and took off.As he hurriedly mounted Hellfire, Ahearn rolled his eyes, and his friends gave him sympathetic looks. From behind, he watched the queen riding sidesaddle and couldn’t believe he’d soon hold those buttocks in his hands. As soon as they were out of sight of the stables, he caught up with her. She gave him her most radiant smile. “They still don’t suspect anything, do they?” “No, Your Majesty, but could you maybe be a little nicer to them? I don’t like the things they say about you.” “I told you not to call me ‘Your Majesty’ when no one’s around. You know why I have to act like I do. We can’t afford anyone getting the slightest suspicion about us. I couldn’t bear it if His Sulis-cursed Majesty hurt you in any way.” Ahearn grinned at her continued demonstration of how much she cared about him.“I promise I’ll make up for my rudeness,” she said in that throaty voice that drove him wild. “Race you to the stream!” She touched her heels to her horse, leaving him behind.As Ahearn took off after her, he felt a tightening in his groin. Holy Sulis, how did I get so lucky that a woman like her wants a nobody like me? Even though Hellfire could easily outdistance her mare, he stayed behind her, enjoying the view. Besides, she got huffy when she lost, and he definitely didn’t want that. Fenella laughed as her horse’s feet splashed into the edge of the stream. Ahearn had never heard anything quite so musical. He jumped off Hellfire, looped the reins around a branch, took a blanket off the saddle, and laid it on the ground. He hurried to help Fenella dismount. She slid down the full length of his body as he lowered her into the stream. She turned her face up to his, and he kissed her deeply. Without warning, she wrapped her leg around his and jerked him off balance, falling on top of him into the stream. They came up together, laughing and dripping wet. Her dress clung to her body, leaving little to the imagination. He grabbed the dress around her waist and pulled it up over her head; she wore nothing underneath. He cupped her ivory breasts and found her lips again. He moved his hands down her body until they found the smooth firmness of her buttocks. She was so small he had no difficulty boosting her against him and carrying her to the shore. He lay her on the blanket, quickly tore off his own clothes, and lay down beside her. “Oh, Hearn,” she whispered. “Make love to me.” He readied her as quickly as he could and slipped himself slowly inside her. He hadn’t gotten deep yet when he heard the crunch of a footstep behind him and felt the cold sharp point of a sword on his back. “I think you’ve done enough, you rutting swine,” a harsh voice commanded. “Stand up and turn around. Slowly.” Certain he was about to die, Ahearn eased himself out of the queen and stood. He turned to find Lord Caedmon holding the sword on him. Behind Caedmon, Duke Connor, the king’s chancellor, approached, accompanied by two vicious dogs. “You should have let him finish, son,” Duke Connor said. “It isn’t good for a man’s health to be left in that condition.” “His health is of little concern now that he’s completed his service to his country,” Caedmon grunted.Ahearn didn’t understand what they were talking about. He wanted to fall to his knees and beg for mercy. But why humiliate himself when he had no hope for leniency? He licked his lips and looked at Fenella, who’d wrapped the blanket around herself. She looked far more angry than frightened. Maybe she didn’t understand the consequences of what they’d just been caught doing. “Don’t hurt her, please,” he whispered.Duke Connor laughed. “Hurt Her Majesty? I wouldn’t think of it. She is carrying Korthlundia’s future—His Majesty’s long-awaited heir.”“Like hell I am.” Fenella jumped to her feet. “Solar is a wrinkled old man. He hasn’t been able to do it in months. This baby,”—she touched her stomach, still smooth and flat—“isn’t his.”Ahearn stared at the queen. “You’re pregnant, Fen?”Duke Connor smiled nastily. “The continued stability of the joined kingdoms requires that Solar have an heir. Since he’s unable to beget his own, he needed someone to do it for him. I’ve informed His Majesty of your vigorous efforts on his behalf.” Ahearn stared at the duke, mortified at the thought of the fifty-year-old pervert looking on and evaluating his performance. “Now that you’ve done your part, I’ve been ordered to ‘take care’ of you.” Ahearn dropped to his knees, afraid he was either going to faint or vomit. His Majesty set me up! Holy Sulis, how could I have been so stupid to think no one knew? “No!” Fenella screamed, seeming to understand for the first time how bad the situation was. “Don’t hurt him! It’s all my fault! I just wanted . . . I just wanted . . .”“Wanted what, Your Majesty?” Duke Connor asked, as if what she wanted was of no concern.Fenella’s words cut like the sharpest sword. “You smug bastard! No one knows better than you what I wanted! I told you I wouldn’t be given to an old man to be used as a brood mare! But nobody listened! Not you! Not my father! And not His Sulis-damned Majesty! But I’ve had my revenge! I got a stable groom with shit on his boots to do what the great Solar couldn’t!”Ahearn felt like he’d been kicked in the gut. “Fen, you can’t mean that. I thought . . .” “I’m afraid thinking played little part in your activities,” the duke sneered. He nodded, and Ahearn felt something smash into the back of his head. He fell to the ground, his skull erupting in pain. He tried to move, but was struck again. As if from a great distance, he heard the noblemen talking. “This is a waste of effort and money,” Caedmon complained. “We should just kill him here and dump him in the harbor. The rutting swine’s only a stable groom, and he’ll be a liability as long as he’s alive. We both know what His Majesty meant by taking care of him.” “Enough!” the duke snapped. “We’ve been over this. He’s just a lad. I’m chancellor, and you’d do well to remember that. Now, take him as we’ve arranged.”“Fine,” Caedmon snapped, and Ahearn was kicked in the head. * * *
Chapter TwoAhearn sat at a table in the back of the king’s stable eating porridge with his fellow stable grooms, Gille and Jowan. The three of them had grown up together, first as stable boys, now as grooms. The king’s stable was huge, housing more than a hundred horses. A cool morning breeze was blowing in through the open door, so it wasn’t as unbearably hot as it would be at midday. He struggled not to smile. Today it was his turn to accompany the queen on her ride. He couldn’t let his friends suspect that he no longer dreaded his turn as they did theirs.“I’m glad I got two more days until I have to do it again,” Gille said, scratching at his sorry excuse for a beard. “You better pray she’s in a better mood than she was yesterday, and make sure you clean her saddle, her horse, everything until they sparkle, and I mean shiny. You know how prissy she is. Yesterday she found a speck of dirt on her saddle and yelled about me to Eamon for nearly fifteen minutes. I thought she was going to order me flogged.”Ahearn rubbed his much fuller beard, which Fenella said made him look manly. She also said its auburn color enhanced his masculinity further. Ahearn wasn’t sure why, but who was he to question the queen?The Master of the Horse came up behind them. “See that you do, Ahearn,” Eamon said. “I do not want to get another earful today. If it’d been you that left the speck, I have no doubt she would have ordered at least ten lashes. Not that she likes any of us, but she especially seems to have it in for you.”“Yes, sir,” Ahearn answered, struggling to keep his smile suppressed. Their plan was working. No one seemed to have the slightest suspicion of what they were up to.“Can’t you talk to the king, sir?” Jowan asked. “Get her bodyguards back on her at least. Then there’d be witnesses if she said we did anything wrong. I don’t want to hang because she got her monthlies or something.”“I tried, boys, but His Majesty says the queen is insistent in not wanting bodyguards following her around, and he still won’t allow her to ride unaccompanied. Someone needs to be near in case of an accident.” Ahearn couldn’t tell them about the tantrum Fenella had had to throw to get His Majesty to dismiss her bodyguards or her reason for wanting them gone. “Just keep at a respectful distance, and you needn’t worry overly much. The king knows what she’s like, and he’d never order you hanged on her word alone. A thorough flogging is probably the worse you have to fear.”“A flogging’s the worst?” Gille said. “I saw Calder’s back after he was flogged. I might rather hang.”Eamon put his hands on Ahearn’s shoulders and squeezed them in a manner that reminded Ahearn of his dead uncle, who had been Eamon’s best friend. “You know I’ll always do my best for you boys, and it might well be that your fear of the queen is exaggerated. She’s only a girl, after all.” Jowan and Gille both scoffed loudly. Eamon patted Ahearn’s shoulder. “All the same, do make sure everything is perfect. You better get a move on it, so you have plenty of time.”“Yes, sir.” Ahearn jumped to his feet. Ahearn grabbed an apple from the barrel and headed for Alita’s stall near the front of the stables, next to the king’s own gelding. The queen’s white mare nickered at the sight of him. He held out the apple and scratched her neck in the way she liked. “You like me almost as much as your mistress does, don’t you?” he whispered, as he began brushing the coat she always managed to dirty. “She could have had almost anybody, but she chose me. For a bastard son of a whore, I don’t think I’ve done too badly for myself.” The truth was he never would have gotten this job if it hadn’t been for his uncle. He almost started whistling, but he heard someone coming and stopped himself. He shouldn’t seem happy.Gille stopped in front of Alita’s stall. “I have just the thing to cheer you up. Jowan just found out from Dewin who found out from Laoch that there’s going to be a dance tonight at the weaver’s guild hall. You remember how fine the girls were last time.”A few months ago Ahearn wouldn’t have hesitated, but Fenella would throw a fit if he danced with another girl. “I’m a little worn out. Go without me.”“Not that excuse again!” Jowan joined them. “You need a new girl. Stop moaning over Sorcha. You know she’s doing it with Gradh now.”“As if I care who that kitchen slut fucks,” Ahearn scowled. A few months ago he’d cared a great deal. He’d lost his virginity to Sorcha, but it hadn’t taken her long to decide she preferred the uniform of the Royal Guard to the stink of the stables. Gille and Jowan looked at each other with raised eyebrows. Gille shook his head, and Jowan shrugged. If they thought he wasn’t over Sorcha, they’d never guess what he was really up to. “I’ll go get Hellfire ready for you,” Jowan said, as Ahearn got down Alita’s saddle. Hellfire was a jet-black gelding with a personality that matched his name. The queen always insisted whoever accompanied her ride him because he provided the perfect contrast for her mare.When the horses were groomed and saddled, Ahearn and Jowan led them toward the stable door. Eamon stopped them and looked the horses over. “Just want to be sure the queen has nothing to complain about.” When Eamon was satisfied, they led the horses out to the mounting blocks. Ahearn handed Alita’s reins to Gille, so he could be ready to assist the queen in mounting.The side palace door opened, and a woman emerged. Ahearn couldn’t see her well from this distance, but he had no doubt it was the queen. Jowan let out a whistle as she got close enough for them to see the way her riding dress clung to her curves. Her long blond hair was tied back in a braid. “Her Majesty is certainly easy on the eyes,” Gille said. “If she weren’t such a bitch, I’d almost pity her for being married to a man old enough to be her grandfather.”“Try great-grandfather,” Jowan said. “His Majesty is over seventy, and the queen just turned fifteen.”“Maybe that’s why she acts the way she does,” Ahearn said, before he could stop himself. They didn’t understand how awful it had been for her when her father sold her to the king. Gille nodded. “You have a point. But I hear His Majesty’s tiring of her. He spends far more time with his mistress.” The queen was getting close enough she might overhear, so they stopped talking and waited at respectful attention. They all bowed when she reached the mounting blocks.“You again?” The queen looked at Ahearn like he was a piece of horse shit.“If you’d prefer, Your Majesty, someone else could accompany you.”“What I prefer is to ride alone.” She accepted Ahearn’s assistance in mounting. It was hard to make his body behave when she was close.“I’m sorry, Your Majesty, but His Majesty’s orders are that you are to be accompanied.”“Just keep your distance,” she said, and took off.As he hurriedly mounted Hellfire, Ahearn rolled his eyes, and his friends gave him sympathetic looks. From behind, he watched the queen riding sidesaddle and couldn’t believe he’d soon hold those buttocks in his hands. As soon as they were out of sight of the stables, he caught up with her. She gave him her most radiant smile. “They still don’t suspect anything, do they?” “No, Your Majesty, but could you maybe be a little nicer to them? I don’t like the things they say about you.” “I told you not to call me ‘Your Majesty’ when no one’s around. You know why I have to act like I do. We can’t afford anyone getting the slightest suspicion about us. I couldn’t bear it if His Sulis-cursed Majesty hurt you in any way.” Ahearn grinned at her continued demonstration of how much she cared about him.“I promise I’ll make up for my rudeness,” she said in that throaty voice that drove him wild. “Race you to the stream!” She touched her heels to her horse, leaving him behind.As Ahearn took off after her, he felt a tightening in his groin. Holy Sulis, how did I get so lucky that a woman like her wants a nobody like me? Even though Hellfire could easily outdistance her mare, he stayed behind her, enjoying the view. Besides, she got huffy when she lost, and he definitely didn’t want that. Fenella laughed as her horse’s feet splashed into the edge of the stream. Ahearn had never heard anything quite so musical. He jumped off Hellfire, looped the reins around a branch, took a blanket off the saddle, and laid it on the ground. He hurried to help Fenella dismount. She slid down the full length of his body as he lowered her into the stream. She turned her face up to his, and he kissed her deeply. Without warning, she wrapped her leg around his and jerked him off balance, falling on top of him into the stream. They came up together, laughing and dripping wet. Her dress clung to her body, leaving little to the imagination. He grabbed the dress around her waist and pulled it up over her head; she wore nothing underneath. He cupped her ivory breasts and found her lips again. He moved his hands down her body until they found the smooth firmness of her buttocks. She was so small he had no difficulty boosting her against him and carrying her to the shore. He lay her on the blanket, quickly tore off his own clothes, and lay down beside her. “Oh, Hearn,” she whispered. “Make love to me.” He readied her as quickly as he could and slipped himself slowly inside her. He hadn’t gotten deep yet when he heard the crunch of a footstep behind him and felt the cold sharp point of a sword on his back. “I think you’ve done enough, you rutting swine,” a harsh voice commanded. “Stand up and turn around. Slowly.” Certain he was about to die, Ahearn eased himself out of the queen and stood. He turned to find Lord Caedmon holding the sword on him. Behind Caedmon, Duke Connor, the king’s chancellor, approached, accompanied by two vicious dogs. “You should have let him finish, son,” Duke Connor said. “It isn’t good for a man’s health to be left in that condition.” “His health is of little concern now that he’s completed his service to his country,” Caedmon grunted.Ahearn didn’t understand what they were talking about. He wanted to fall to his knees and beg for mercy. But why humiliate himself when he had no hope for leniency? He licked his lips and looked at Fenella, who’d wrapped the blanket around herself. She looked far more angry than frightened. Maybe she didn’t understand the consequences of what they’d just been caught doing. “Don’t hurt her, please,” he whispered.Duke Connor laughed. “Hurt Her Majesty? I wouldn’t think of it. She is carrying Korthlundia’s future—His Majesty’s long-awaited heir.”“Like hell I am.” Fenella jumped to her feet. “Solar is a wrinkled old man. He hasn’t been able to do it in months. This baby,”—she touched her stomach, still smooth and flat—“isn’t his.”Ahearn stared at the queen. “You’re pregnant, Fen?”Duke Connor smiled nastily. “The continued stability of the joined kingdoms requires that Solar have an heir. Since he’s unable to beget his own, he needed someone to do it for him. I’ve informed His Majesty of your vigorous efforts on his behalf.” Ahearn stared at the duke, mortified at the thought of the fifty-year-old pervert looking on and evaluating his performance. “Now that you’ve done your part, I’ve been ordered to ‘take care’ of you.” Ahearn dropped to his knees, afraid he was either going to faint or vomit. His Majesty set me up! Holy Sulis, how could I have been so stupid to think no one knew? “No!” Fenella screamed, seeming to understand for the first time how bad the situation was. “Don’t hurt him! It’s all my fault! I just wanted . . . I just wanted . . .”“Wanted what, Your Majesty?” Duke Connor asked, as if what she wanted was of no concern.Fenella’s words cut like the sharpest sword. “You smug bastard! No one knows better than you what I wanted! I told you I wouldn’t be given to an old man to be used as a brood mare! But nobody listened! Not you! Not my father! And not His Sulis-damned Majesty! But I’ve had my revenge! I got a stable groom with shit on his boots to do what the great Solar couldn’t!”Ahearn felt like he’d been kicked in the gut. “Fen, you can’t mean that. I thought . . .” “I’m afraid thinking played little part in your activities,” the duke sneered. He nodded, and Ahearn felt something smash into the back of his head. He fell to the ground, his skull erupting in pain. He tried to move, but was struck again. As if from a great distance, he heard the noblemen talking. “This is a waste of effort and money,” Caedmon complained. “We should just kill him here and dump him in the harbor. The rutting swine’s only a stable groom, and he’ll be a liability as long as he’s alive. We both know what His Majesty meant by taking care of him.” “Enough!” the duke snapped. “We’ve been over this. He’s just a lad. I’m chancellor, and you’d do well to remember that. Now, take him as we’ve arranged.”“Fine,” Caedmon snapped, and Ahearn was kicked in the head. * * *
November 19, 2016
The Goddess's Choice audio, Chapter 8
Listen to Robbie argue with a horse who refuses to make sense in the next installment of The Goddess's Choice on audio. Please tell me what you think.
If you can't wait for the next chapter, you can always buy it on Amazon.
If you can't wait for the next chapter, you can always buy it on Amazon.
November 17, 2016
Valerie Willis and Celtic Mythology
I've signed up with the book touring company to occasionally host blog tours. The benefit of this to you, my readers, is not only to you hear about new books, but also each of the tours comes with a giveaway in which you can win prices. Do not miss the rafflecopter link near the end of today's post, and enter to win prices. In the comments, tell me how you feel about this addition to my blog. Your feedback will determine how many tours I sign up to host. This week's tour starts with a guest post on the Celtic influences on Valerie Willis's novels. This interested me because my novels also have a Celtic touch, and I hope it will interest you. After the guest post, you can read more about Willis's novels and enter the contest.
Before I even completed one outline on any of the books and plots (Released and still to write) for The Cedric Series, I dove hard into mythology sources from all over the world. Naturally, I started with Celtic and Norse Mythology, lores, and legends. Some characters are more obvious with their Celtic inspirations than others. For example, in Cedric the Demonic Knight we are introduced to the Sorceress Sisters, Morrighan, Nemaine and Badbh. Most assume my Morrighan is the Goddess, but in fact, she and her sisters are inspired by Goddesses within Celtic lore.Nemaine was harder to tie down, unlike Morrighan and Badbh whose lore wasn’t as broken apart, “Forgotten” or faded into her sister’s stories. These three are also known for being the Fate Trinity in Celtic lore as Morrigan, Badb, and Macha, the three daughter of Ernmas. The harder I dug into their story, scouring the mythology and stories of old for their starting point, the more scarce and confusing the three daughters became. Most of my solid sources came from the books I purchased in an effort to build a more solid and traceable path of research.The rate of one time found stories, versions, and starting points only added to my want to have them in The Cedric Series as three different entities who are different from one another but still reflect all the different aspects I found. Many may wonder why I didn’t go with Macha, but my goal in the series was to bring attention to lesser known entities, and Nemain seemed to be used in the older versions more so than Macha. Plus, a lot of what I found on Macha was redundant or split off with Badbh or Morrigan, so her essence is still there, mixed between these two. Some of the lesser known, hard to find on the internet information involved them being sent out by their father to lure or distract the hero Cuchulainn. There was even one story of how they were punished for their father’s crimes by losing their left eyes (Other tales just say Morrigan was alone and Cuchulainn shot her eye out)… perhaps something to come in a future book!Now, in regards to Cuchulainn, I drew inspiration from The Cattle Raid of Cooley. It gave me the perfect starting point for my second novel in the series, Romasanta: Father of Werewolves. This whole fight starts with a prized Bull being stolen from the hero and then leads to even a fight with a wolf. Granted in the original variants that wolf was Morrighan, but in my story I use it as a way to pull together Mythology involving Japanese Forest Gods meets Norse God Fenrir! You can read the first chapter of Romasanta on my site, www.willisauthor.com.
This is only scratching the surface of the Celtic inspiration that peeks through my characters and plot. As the series unfolds, readers can look forward to more glimpses of Celtic, Norse, Greek, and even superstitions!
Cedric: The Demon Knight
The Cedric Series Book 2
Lord Cedric du Romulus may be a powerful knight, but he’s no human nor does he like masquerading as one. He is a mixed blood demon made by Sorceress Morrighan in her quest to create an army of powerful underlings. Seeking out ever-stronger enemies, he devours them for their power; nothing is safe from his fangs whether they are beasts, demons, or magic wielders. When he finds himself staring at Morrighan’s castle, will he be able to follow through with his life’s ambition and leave behind his lover and wife, Lady Angeline who herself is an heir to a legacy of unknown magic.Goodreads * Amazon
Romasanta: Father of Werewolves The Cedric Series Book 2
Romasanta finds himself a cursed man and struggles with his internal demon, literally. All his troubles start with a stone and after that he will be losing everything he's ever loved. Faced with clinging on to what little humanity he has, he will lose it many times before reaching the end of his journey. His life's tale will take you through time to see how every lore, every moment in history tied in with wolves all come back to him. They call him the Ancient One, others simply refer to him as the Father of Werewolves, but we know him by his name, Romasanta. Many battles will be fought before he gets closer to his goals, but will he be ready to finish what was asked of him at the very beginning of his horrible fate. Will he be able to return the Eye of Gaea and free the love of his life from the laurel tree in the Black Forest?Goodreads * Amazon
The Oracle The Cedric Series Book 3With Angeline back in Cedric's arms and the Eye of Gaea in Romasanta's grip, the next step in their journey begins. Knowing they will be facing the mother of dragons, Delphyne, at the top of Mt. Parnassus, they assemble a group to traverse the barrier which dissolves any technology and renders gunpowder useless. The question weighing on their minds is if two werewolves, the incubus King, and a demonized sorceress is enough to fight their way to see the Oracle?
Valerie Willis, a sixth generation Floridian, launched her first book, Cedric the Demonic Knight, at the start of 2014 on Amazon.com. Since then, she has launched the second book to The Cedric Series, Romasanta: Father of Werewolves (2015), with several installments to come in this high rated Fantasy Romance Series. She pulls in a melting pot of mythology, folklores, history and more into her work with a remarkable amount of foreshadowing that makes reading her books a second time exciting. Also she recently published Rebirth the first book in her Teen Urban Fantasy, the Tattooed Angels Trilogy. Currently on the table to be completed is book two for the Tattooed Angels Trilogy, Judgment and book three in The Cedric Series, The Oracle.Website * Amazon * Smashwords * Goodreads * Facebook * Twitter * InstagramCedric Series Facebook Page * Tattooed Angels Facebook Page
5 Free ebook copies of any of my books of their choice & 1 Paperback of choice signed with signed bookmarks to share with friends! Click the link below to enter and good luck!a Rafflecopter giveaway
November 16, 2016
Myrtle Brooks brings Yellowstone to Life
My guest today is Myrtle Brooks. Her work is more mystic than fantasy. It glories in the beautiful of the natural world, and one of my favorite places on earth, Yellowstone National Park. This should remind us of the importance of protecting our parks and public lands from the political forces that now threaten them.
As written beneath her yearbook photo, Class of 1970, the expressed lifetime goal of the author herein known as Myrtle Brooks is: “to realize the love present in everything.” When not at home in her beloved Brooklyn, N.Y., she may be found dancing with the big rigs on the interstate as she heads for places of quiet beauty.
Interview1. Tell us a little about yourself? I am a retired clerk from the United States Postal Service in Brooklyn, N.Y. When I got my first driver’s license c. 11 years ago, I hit the highways to California and back. Writing found me at an early age when my grade school teacher told us to pen a poem. It was ‘Love at first write.’ Having traveled to Yellowstone Park at age 10, my return there in 2009 revived the childhood short story I had started, entitled: The Geyser Girl. Blessed with the maturity to pull the story together, beginning with its theme, I began what turned into a full-blown novel. 2. What are your biggest literary influences? Favorite authors and why? The Bible is my first influence. And as a grown child (smile), I have never outgrown the fairy tales and cartoons with which I was reared. Each novel or book of short stories I read is an intravenous injection of vitamins and tonics. Love Daphne Du Maurier’s Rebecca. Her world is astonishingly lush and vivid like a thick perfume which lingers long after the last page.3. Tell us something about how you write? i.e. are you a plotter or a pantser? Do you have any weird or necessary writing habits or rituals? A pantser with self-discipline (smile). The story carries me. I live a vicarious life through my characters: laugh and cry with them as events unfold. But when I get stuck, I turn into a temporary mini-plotter, writing directional The Geyser Girl of Yellowstone Park
In Yellowstone National Park at the turn of the twentieth century, an infant of mysterious origin is
adopted by Old Faithful geyser and by a mother buffalo named Bearer of Song. Beloved to all the park, Flower of the Steam Basin grows up with their stories, proverbial sayings and teachings: in a land where the animals, winds and geysers speak their own languages. Having met a child her age and her parents, trust ripens between families, and Flower of the Steam Basin gains a closely protective circle of human friends. At nine, she is brought face-to-face with Retired Lieutenant Ned Halpen of the Yellowstone Cavalry, whose exemplary career embodied the role of protector of Yellowstone’s spiritual and physical heritage. In the wake of Lt. Halpen’s passing, her sacred vow to continue his legacy brings both reward and mortal danger. And when the circle is breached, Flower of the Steam Basin and her father are forced to choose between her well-being and the performance of her sworn duties.This is her story as seen through the eyes of Yellowstone.ExcerptIn a sacred and pristine land called: Yellowstone Park, the story has been recounted of the baby found crying amid the geysers with none but a diaper cloth for her cover, some many snowy April nights ago. After the western sun has faded, the trails of car headlights and tail lights dissipated and the campfires laid low, it is echoed throughout the mountains and hills from Wyoming to Montana and Idaho, from the deeps of the blue waters to the winds that sweep through the tall and stately pines.The bears taking up residence in the eastern region of the park recall it was a mother buffalo named: Bearer of Song, who pitied the girl and longed to take her in. But as she approached, the child crawled towards the elder geyser spring called: Old Faithful and disappeared down into his hole.The cries of the mother alerted the families of buffalo and bears in the southwestern parts. They sent word, to learn if any humans had reported a missing child to the U.S. Cavalry. There had been one report two days prior, that of a five-year-old boy discovered wandering off into the woods to chase a whitetail deer. His distressed parents, overjoyed at his return, had fallen upon him tearfully, hugged him and spanked him. But neither did the animals inside Yellowstone Park nor those outside its borders know of anyone coming forward to claim this infant girl.All the animals feared that she had died.But she did not die.
The flakes of snow swirling in the icy gusts of wind heard Old Faithfulcall the child, that night, as they danced close to the earth. “Come; take your refuge with me. Warm yourself in my abode, and drink of my waters.” As the flakes were lifted high again, they carried Old Faithful’s words to the tops of the pines in the surrounding woods.When the grieving Bearer of Song awoke to nurse her newborn son whom she had named: Races with Lightning, an elk was passing. “Why are you crying?” he asked her. “I mourn the loss of a child never having known the good and sweet things of life. And I, robbed of the opportunity to give her these. Oh, had I been but a few steps closer...”“The baby has been given these even as we speak,” the elk told her in gentle tones.“Only in the Kingdom of Heaven.” She continued to weep.“She has been taken in by the Faithful Elder,” the elk explained. “To be reared as his own. All the treasures of his wisdom will be hers.”Overcome by great relief and joy mixed with a mother’s longing, Bearer of Song fell silent, her son nursing at her side.At daybreak, she arose and hastily prepared to leave. Her husband, named: Sires with Grace, sensing her urgency, enquired where she was bound.“I am going to see the Faithful Elder.” She stood erect and determined.“My wife, few better places to be brought up than in the house of the elder of our land, whose inspired ascent is teacher to us all. Would you seek to take away from the child such extraordinary gifts?”“I was also there, my husband,” she reminded him. “And have tasted the salt of a mother’s tears as they flowed down upon my lips. I will do no such thing as deprive her of her gifts; only speak in the way a mother speaks: from the soul within her frame.”“Then, you must do as your heart bids you.”
If you like what you've read, please comment below. The book can be purchased at the following link:
As written beneath her yearbook photo, Class of 1970, the expressed lifetime goal of the author herein known as Myrtle Brooks is: “to realize the love present in everything.” When not at home in her beloved Brooklyn, N.Y., she may be found dancing with the big rigs on the interstate as she heads for places of quiet beauty.Interview1. Tell us a little about yourself? I am a retired clerk from the United States Postal Service in Brooklyn, N.Y. When I got my first driver’s license c. 11 years ago, I hit the highways to California and back. Writing found me at an early age when my grade school teacher told us to pen a poem. It was ‘Love at first write.’ Having traveled to Yellowstone Park at age 10, my return there in 2009 revived the childhood short story I had started, entitled: The Geyser Girl. Blessed with the maturity to pull the story together, beginning with its theme, I began what turned into a full-blown novel. 2. What are your biggest literary influences? Favorite authors and why? The Bible is my first influence. And as a grown child (smile), I have never outgrown the fairy tales and cartoons with which I was reared. Each novel or book of short stories I read is an intravenous injection of vitamins and tonics. Love Daphne Du Maurier’s Rebecca. Her world is astonishingly lush and vivid like a thick perfume which lingers long after the last page.3. Tell us something about how you write? i.e. are you a plotter or a pantser? Do you have any weird or necessary writing habits or rituals? A pantser with self-discipline (smile). The story carries me. I live a vicarious life through my characters: laugh and cry with them as events unfold. But when I get stuck, I turn into a temporary mini-plotter, writing directional The Geyser Girl of Yellowstone Park
In Yellowstone National Park at the turn of the twentieth century, an infant of mysterious origin is adopted by Old Faithful geyser and by a mother buffalo named Bearer of Song. Beloved to all the park, Flower of the Steam Basin grows up with their stories, proverbial sayings and teachings: in a land where the animals, winds and geysers speak their own languages. Having met a child her age and her parents, trust ripens between families, and Flower of the Steam Basin gains a closely protective circle of human friends. At nine, she is brought face-to-face with Retired Lieutenant Ned Halpen of the Yellowstone Cavalry, whose exemplary career embodied the role of protector of Yellowstone’s spiritual and physical heritage. In the wake of Lt. Halpen’s passing, her sacred vow to continue his legacy brings both reward and mortal danger. And when the circle is breached, Flower of the Steam Basin and her father are forced to choose between her well-being and the performance of her sworn duties.This is her story as seen through the eyes of Yellowstone.ExcerptIn a sacred and pristine land called: Yellowstone Park, the story has been recounted of the baby found crying amid the geysers with none but a diaper cloth for her cover, some many snowy April nights ago. After the western sun has faded, the trails of car headlights and tail lights dissipated and the campfires laid low, it is echoed throughout the mountains and hills from Wyoming to Montana and Idaho, from the deeps of the blue waters to the winds that sweep through the tall and stately pines.The bears taking up residence in the eastern region of the park recall it was a mother buffalo named: Bearer of Song, who pitied the girl and longed to take her in. But as she approached, the child crawled towards the elder geyser spring called: Old Faithful and disappeared down into his hole.The cries of the mother alerted the families of buffalo and bears in the southwestern parts. They sent word, to learn if any humans had reported a missing child to the U.S. Cavalry. There had been one report two days prior, that of a five-year-old boy discovered wandering off into the woods to chase a whitetail deer. His distressed parents, overjoyed at his return, had fallen upon him tearfully, hugged him and spanked him. But neither did the animals inside Yellowstone Park nor those outside its borders know of anyone coming forward to claim this infant girl.All the animals feared that she had died.But she did not die.
The flakes of snow swirling in the icy gusts of wind heard Old Faithfulcall the child, that night, as they danced close to the earth. “Come; take your refuge with me. Warm yourself in my abode, and drink of my waters.” As the flakes were lifted high again, they carried Old Faithful’s words to the tops of the pines in the surrounding woods.When the grieving Bearer of Song awoke to nurse her newborn son whom she had named: Races with Lightning, an elk was passing. “Why are you crying?” he asked her. “I mourn the loss of a child never having known the good and sweet things of life. And I, robbed of the opportunity to give her these. Oh, had I been but a few steps closer...”“The baby has been given these even as we speak,” the elk told her in gentle tones.“Only in the Kingdom of Heaven.” She continued to weep.“She has been taken in by the Faithful Elder,” the elk explained. “To be reared as his own. All the treasures of his wisdom will be hers.”Overcome by great relief and joy mixed with a mother’s longing, Bearer of Song fell silent, her son nursing at her side.At daybreak, she arose and hastily prepared to leave. Her husband, named: Sires with Grace, sensing her urgency, enquired where she was bound.“I am going to see the Faithful Elder.” She stood erect and determined.“My wife, few better places to be brought up than in the house of the elder of our land, whose inspired ascent is teacher to us all. Would you seek to take away from the child such extraordinary gifts?”“I was also there, my husband,” she reminded him. “And have tasted the salt of a mother’s tears as they flowed down upon my lips. I will do no such thing as deprive her of her gifts; only speak in the way a mother speaks: from the soul within her frame.”“Then, you must do as your heart bids you.”
If you like what you've read, please comment below. The book can be purchased at the following link:
November 14, 2016
Deleted Prologue for The Ghost in Exile
I ultimately decided to delete this prologue from the final version of The Ghost in Exile because I decided that the novel worked better started at a later point in the story. Still, I rather like it, so I'm posted in here to get you in the mood for the release of The Ghost in Exile on November 25. Tell me what you think of the prologue in the comments below.Prologue
Disguised as a palace footman, The Ghost slit another guard's throat as he neared Duke Argblutal's chambers. He walked carefully in soft-soled shoes so his footsteps didn’t echo off the flagstone floors of the palace corridors. Morning light streamed through the open windows. He hadn't counted how many men he'd killed to get this far. He no longer cared. They were all responsible for Samantha's tears. They all supported the man who would steal her throne. Nobody could treat his daughter this way and live.He heard voices coming from the open doorway ahead. "And the bastard's army?" Duke Argblutal asked. The Ghost didn’t know how the usurper had found out that The Ghost, and not the king, fathered the crown princess, but such accusations would die with him."It's larger than we believed, at least two thousand strong,” a second voice answered. “Some of them are untrained peasants, but we are still outnumbered nearly five to one. The people throng into the street to join her.""How can they want a bastard on the throne?" The duke's voice dripped with venom.The Ghost took two more strides, threw a knife, and the duke's underling fell face down into the room. He stepped over the body and hissed, "Because she's far more fit to rule than you.”"Guards!" the duke yelled.The Ghost laughed. "There are no guards to hear you. I've been most thorough."Argblutal grabbed his sword. The walls of his chamber were covered with the heads of beasts that he’d no doubt severed with that sword, including a panther, which was the symbol of his house. "Do you honestly think you're my match?" Argblutal sneered."Easily." The Ghost drew his sword. He could have killed the duke with a throwing knife. But that would have been too quick. The monster had to be made to feel all the pain he'd caused Samantha. That wasn't possible, though. It took a heart to suffer as she had. The Ghost lunged in for a quick attack. Argblutal parried, but The Ghost's sword made a shallow slice across the duke's upper arm. Blood began to trickle from the wound."You think the people will bow the knee before a bastard?" Argblutal tried to taunt him, but The Ghost didn't answer. Words were wasted breath. Relentlessly, he battered Argblutal back toward the wall. Blood sprang from wounds on the duke's legs and arms. The Ghost was vaguely aware the duke had scored a few small hits of his own. But The Ghost was no longer mortal. He didn't feel pain. Argblutal was weakening, and he again yelled for assistance. His parries became wilder and clumsier, and The Ghost saw his opening. He swung his sword toward the duke's stomach, slicing open his midsection and spilling his entrails. The duke clutched at his guts and dropped to his knees. The Ghost bent down beside him. "Who are you?" Argblutal hissed.The Ghost pulled the wax off his face."Darhour, is it?" Argblutal sputtered. But The Ghost was Darhour no longer. He’d left that identity behind when he broke his vow never to kill again. "Do you really think they will bend the knee to the daughter of a stable groom?""You'll never know if they do or not." The Ghost looked at the duke's stomach wound. "You could take three days to die of such wounds. Pity, I can't spare the time to watch." He sheathed his sword and drew a knife. "I've heard you remove the manhood of those who disappoint you."Argblutal’s scream as The Ghost castrated him in no way soothed the heart that had listened to his daughter sob. The duke had to be made to feel more pain. The Ghost wanted to dismember him piece by piece. Kill him as he’d killed the man who gave him the scars that marred his face and body. But he hadn’t the time. His daughter’s army was at the gates. Even now, he could hear her voice echoing through the palace grounds, asking the duke’s men to surrender. But they never would while Argblutal lived.The Ghost drew his sword and cut off the usurper’s head. A pike rested nearby. The Ghost placed the duke’s head on it. Then he opened the doors to the palace balcony and displayed the head above the railing.He watched from a side window until the duke’s men surrendered, and Samantha with the sorcerer and her army rode through the palace gates. She was safe now, his job complete.He looked down at his blood-soaked clothing, a testimony to how thoroughly he’d broken his vow to the goddess. He told himself he should feel something, but he felt nothing—not regret, not sorrow, not even vindication. His soul was now completely dark. He was truly a monster; as he looked through the window at the auburn hair of his daughter shining in the sunlight, he knew this was the last look he could allow himself of her. If he stayed, he would blacken her soul. Besides, if Argblutal had discovered the connection between them, someone else could as well. He had to get away, far from Korthlundia where his daughter would reign. Only one place in the world could a killer like him be at home—Saloyna, the land that had turned a simple stable groom into an assassin whose reputation spanned the world.“Goodbye, Samantha,” he whispered. “Please forgive me, my daughter.” Just what he was asking forgiveness for, he didn’t know. For leaving? No, he had no choice. For fathering her? How could he regret what she had become? For her finding out about the bond between them? Yes, that he regretted and wished there had been some way to keep her ignorant. He took one last look at her, holding hands with the sorcerer, and slipped back to his own quarters.He took off his clothes, threw them in a corner, and washed the blood from his body. He bound the shallow wounds the duke had given him and changed into the livery of a palace servant. With wax and makeup he disguised his facial scars. He packed quickly—a couple of changes of clothes, the makeup for his disguises, his money bag. The bag contained enough to get him to Saloyna, more than enough.He slipped into the servants’ corridors and out of the palace. No one paid him the slightest attention. He entered an alleyway and left the palace livery behind. He donned the garments of a simple worker. He drew no attention as he made his way to the harbor and found a ship headed for Saloyna. He paid for passage and boarded.* * *As he stood at the rail watching Murtaghan, the capital of his homeland, disappear over the horizon, he felt a tug of pain against his heart. He hadn’t lost all capacity to feel as he’d believed. A strong cord connected his heart to his daughter’s, and until he was far enough away from Korthlundia for the cord to snap, his heart would beat in agony. He shrugged off the pain as irrelevant and looked at his hands. Bits of dried blood clung under his fingernails. Removing the blood beneath the nails had always been the most difficult part. He’d once owned a small brush specifically for that purpose. He didn’t remember what had happened to it. He’d need to procure another. He’d lost his way, thought he could reform and be again the stable groom he once was. Now he knew better. He was a killer, and there were men, like Argblutal, who needed killing. He’d find them and rid the world of them.The Ghost had held many names in his life. The first time he’d sailed away from his homeland, he’d been known by the name his mother had given him. Ahearn had been confined in a small, dark hold, believing he was about to die. He’d been eighteen—a mere child—and completely unprepared for the life he’d found in Saloyna. Fifteen years later he’d returned to Korthlundia as Darhour—so scarred and tainted that no one who’d known Ahearn would have recognized him. Even The Ghost had trouble believing he’d lived the lives of both the simple stable groom and the notorious assassin. Now both men were dead, and The Ghost was nothing but an empty shell. Holy Sulis, Mother of us all, could Ahearn have taken a path that didn’t leave a pile of corpses in his wake? Or was the choice taken from him when a naïve young queen chose him as her lover?
If you liked what you read, the novel is now available for pre-order. Autographed copies can be purchased via PayPal through my website for the special pre-order price of $13. Click the link below:Website for pre-order
Or if you prefer Kindle, click below:
Disguised as a palace footman, The Ghost slit another guard's throat as he neared Duke Argblutal's chambers. He walked carefully in soft-soled shoes so his footsteps didn’t echo off the flagstone floors of the palace corridors. Morning light streamed through the open windows. He hadn't counted how many men he'd killed to get this far. He no longer cared. They were all responsible for Samantha's tears. They all supported the man who would steal her throne. Nobody could treat his daughter this way and live.He heard voices coming from the open doorway ahead. "And the bastard's army?" Duke Argblutal asked. The Ghost didn’t know how the usurper had found out that The Ghost, and not the king, fathered the crown princess, but such accusations would die with him."It's larger than we believed, at least two thousand strong,” a second voice answered. “Some of them are untrained peasants, but we are still outnumbered nearly five to one. The people throng into the street to join her.""How can they want a bastard on the throne?" The duke's voice dripped with venom.The Ghost took two more strides, threw a knife, and the duke's underling fell face down into the room. He stepped over the body and hissed, "Because she's far more fit to rule than you.”"Guards!" the duke yelled.The Ghost laughed. "There are no guards to hear you. I've been most thorough."Argblutal grabbed his sword. The walls of his chamber were covered with the heads of beasts that he’d no doubt severed with that sword, including a panther, which was the symbol of his house. "Do you honestly think you're my match?" Argblutal sneered."Easily." The Ghost drew his sword. He could have killed the duke with a throwing knife. But that would have been too quick. The monster had to be made to feel all the pain he'd caused Samantha. That wasn't possible, though. It took a heart to suffer as she had. The Ghost lunged in for a quick attack. Argblutal parried, but The Ghost's sword made a shallow slice across the duke's upper arm. Blood began to trickle from the wound."You think the people will bow the knee before a bastard?" Argblutal tried to taunt him, but The Ghost didn't answer. Words were wasted breath. Relentlessly, he battered Argblutal back toward the wall. Blood sprang from wounds on the duke's legs and arms. The Ghost was vaguely aware the duke had scored a few small hits of his own. But The Ghost was no longer mortal. He didn't feel pain. Argblutal was weakening, and he again yelled for assistance. His parries became wilder and clumsier, and The Ghost saw his opening. He swung his sword toward the duke's stomach, slicing open his midsection and spilling his entrails. The duke clutched at his guts and dropped to his knees. The Ghost bent down beside him. "Who are you?" Argblutal hissed.The Ghost pulled the wax off his face."Darhour, is it?" Argblutal sputtered. But The Ghost was Darhour no longer. He’d left that identity behind when he broke his vow never to kill again. "Do you really think they will bend the knee to the daughter of a stable groom?""You'll never know if they do or not." The Ghost looked at the duke's stomach wound. "You could take three days to die of such wounds. Pity, I can't spare the time to watch." He sheathed his sword and drew a knife. "I've heard you remove the manhood of those who disappoint you."Argblutal’s scream as The Ghost castrated him in no way soothed the heart that had listened to his daughter sob. The duke had to be made to feel more pain. The Ghost wanted to dismember him piece by piece. Kill him as he’d killed the man who gave him the scars that marred his face and body. But he hadn’t the time. His daughter’s army was at the gates. Even now, he could hear her voice echoing through the palace grounds, asking the duke’s men to surrender. But they never would while Argblutal lived.The Ghost drew his sword and cut off the usurper’s head. A pike rested nearby. The Ghost placed the duke’s head on it. Then he opened the doors to the palace balcony and displayed the head above the railing.He watched from a side window until the duke’s men surrendered, and Samantha with the sorcerer and her army rode through the palace gates. She was safe now, his job complete.He looked down at his blood-soaked clothing, a testimony to how thoroughly he’d broken his vow to the goddess. He told himself he should feel something, but he felt nothing—not regret, not sorrow, not even vindication. His soul was now completely dark. He was truly a monster; as he looked through the window at the auburn hair of his daughter shining in the sunlight, he knew this was the last look he could allow himself of her. If he stayed, he would blacken her soul. Besides, if Argblutal had discovered the connection between them, someone else could as well. He had to get away, far from Korthlundia where his daughter would reign. Only one place in the world could a killer like him be at home—Saloyna, the land that had turned a simple stable groom into an assassin whose reputation spanned the world.“Goodbye, Samantha,” he whispered. “Please forgive me, my daughter.” Just what he was asking forgiveness for, he didn’t know. For leaving? No, he had no choice. For fathering her? How could he regret what she had become? For her finding out about the bond between them? Yes, that he regretted and wished there had been some way to keep her ignorant. He took one last look at her, holding hands with the sorcerer, and slipped back to his own quarters.He took off his clothes, threw them in a corner, and washed the blood from his body. He bound the shallow wounds the duke had given him and changed into the livery of a palace servant. With wax and makeup he disguised his facial scars. He packed quickly—a couple of changes of clothes, the makeup for his disguises, his money bag. The bag contained enough to get him to Saloyna, more than enough.He slipped into the servants’ corridors and out of the palace. No one paid him the slightest attention. He entered an alleyway and left the palace livery behind. He donned the garments of a simple worker. He drew no attention as he made his way to the harbor and found a ship headed for Saloyna. He paid for passage and boarded.* * *As he stood at the rail watching Murtaghan, the capital of his homeland, disappear over the horizon, he felt a tug of pain against his heart. He hadn’t lost all capacity to feel as he’d believed. A strong cord connected his heart to his daughter’s, and until he was far enough away from Korthlundia for the cord to snap, his heart would beat in agony. He shrugged off the pain as irrelevant and looked at his hands. Bits of dried blood clung under his fingernails. Removing the blood beneath the nails had always been the most difficult part. He’d once owned a small brush specifically for that purpose. He didn’t remember what had happened to it. He’d need to procure another. He’d lost his way, thought he could reform and be again the stable groom he once was. Now he knew better. He was a killer, and there were men, like Argblutal, who needed killing. He’d find them and rid the world of them.The Ghost had held many names in his life. The first time he’d sailed away from his homeland, he’d been known by the name his mother had given him. Ahearn had been confined in a small, dark hold, believing he was about to die. He’d been eighteen—a mere child—and completely unprepared for the life he’d found in Saloyna. Fifteen years later he’d returned to Korthlundia as Darhour—so scarred and tainted that no one who’d known Ahearn would have recognized him. Even The Ghost had trouble believing he’d lived the lives of both the simple stable groom and the notorious assassin. Now both men were dead, and The Ghost was nothing but an empty shell. Holy Sulis, Mother of us all, could Ahearn have taken a path that didn’t leave a pile of corpses in his wake? Or was the choice taken from him when a naïve young queen chose him as her lover?
If you liked what you read, the novel is now available for pre-order. Autographed copies can be purchased via PayPal through my website for the special pre-order price of $13. Click the link below:Website for pre-order
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November 13, 2016
The Ghost in Exile scheduled for release on November 25
I just submitted the final manuscript for The Ghost in Exile. It is done, done, done! It will be released on November 25, the day after Thanksgiving. Until then, autographed copies are still available from my website at the special pre-order price of $13: http://jamie-marchant.com/ghost.htm. If you're local and want one, you can send me a message instead because you will not need to pay the postage. If you prefer Kindle, it is available for pre-order on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Ghost-Exile-Korthlundian-Kronicle-ebook/dp/B01LYXXQJA/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8. Autographed copies of all my other books, can be ordered from my website as well. If you know anyone who likes to read, books make great Christmas presents.Blurb: The Ghost is going to hell. Not even the goddess can forgive his sins: assassin, oath-breaker, traitor (an affair with the queen earned him that title). No one can ever learn the princess is his daughter. To keep this secret, he flees to the land that turned him from a simple stable groom into an infamous killer. His mission now? To find evildoers and take them to hell with him. But when an impulsive act of heroism saddles him with a damsel who refuses to be distressed, her resilience forces him to questions why he really ran from his daughter.
November 12, 2016
The Goddess's Choice audio: Chapter 7
This week Samantha is courted by the prince of Saloyna, causing Darhour to reveal more about his past. Listen up, and tell me what you think.
