Read the first chapters of Primrose Pringle and the Warrior Elf

 A cynical mercenary. Anelf warrior with a secret. A bond tested in a savage battle. 

Newsof the brutal invaders’ march toward the Northlands sends battle-hardened mercenary,Prim the Grim, riding to defend the border. On her journey, she intervenes towarn two travelers of a goblin ambush and meets Thorn, an elven warrior. Hiscombat skills, calm authority and sharp wit spark an attraction Prim thoughtshe had sworn off forever. She is unaware he is Swordmaster ThorsonBrightblade, a legendary hero she has long admired.

Drawn together by their shared mission to repel theinvaders, their perilous trek through the mountains ignites a bond between Primand Thorn. But the dangers multiply when they join the allied armies gatheredat the border. Treachery stirs within their own ranks and dragons darken theskies. As the enemy army advances, Prim must choose between her love for Thornand her duty to a commander she no longer trusts. Will their love be a beaconof hope or a casualty of war?

Book 4 in the Oakenwald Chronicles.

Coming in 2025!

Read the beginning here:

Primrose Pringle and her younger sister, Jessica, rodethrough the forested wilderness toward the mountain pass and the border of the Northlands.A battle-hardened mercenary, Prim had chosen this disused trail in thefoothills of the Gray Mountains to evade the ruthless invaders. She had seenthe horrors left by Raglan’s troops on their march from lower Barringsland. Heranger flamed at the memories of burned cottages and putrid corpses in ravagedvillages. She swore to fight to her last breath against the evil invaders ofher homeland.   

Their hooves crunching on the layer of frozen pine needles,the horses kept to a steady pace along the trail under the gloomy pines. Prim’schestnut mare, Ginger, trotted a little ahead of Clover, her sister’s bay mare.An icy breeze shivered in the upper branches of the conifers, carrying thethreat of snow. Just beyond a curve in the trail, thick boles of oaks andslender birches replaced the pines. Their bare branches arched overhead,revealing a pale wintry sky. Straight ahead, glimpses of cloudy sky between thetree trunks marked a break in the forest.

Leery of riding into theopen, Prim reined her chestnut mare to a halt.

Behind her, the rhythmic clomp of Clover’s hooves ceased,and Jess called, “Why have you stopped?”

Swinging around in her saddle, Prim frowned at her youngersister. “Learn to be wary, Jess. We’re traveling into unknown territory. Weneed to scout ahead rather than gallop blindly into danger.” 

Jess murmured, “Sorry, Prim.”

Her sister’s woeful tone drew a sympathetic grin from Prim.Jess had endured drastic changes in the weeks since she had agreed to escapefrom their cruel stepfather. They had decided on a simple disguise to confusepursuers. Prim had shorn Jessica’s beautiful tresses into a boy’s short cropand acquired men’s clothing for her. Her sister, Jessica, became the lad, Jess.Prim hoped that a young man traveling with a seasoned female warrior wouldattract less attention than two women. At all costs, she and Jess must eludeRaglan’s brutal soldiers, at least until they reached the armies gathering todefend the Northlands from the invaders.

Prim herself had dressed like a man for almost a decade eversince she had run away from hone at sixteen. Clad in a padded leather jacketover well-worn leather trousers and a battered leather cap reinforced withsteel bands, she carried a sword, bow and quiver of arrows, and a thin dagger. Trainedby renowned Swordmaster Corwin Bonder, she had become a formidable warrior,using her height and long reach to advantage. Her prowess on the battlefield hadearned her a ugly scar on her face and the name of Prim the Grim.

Dismounting, Prim handed her mare’s reins to Jess. “HoldGinger while I survey the trail ahead.”

Jess gave a solemn nod and steered her bay mare alongsideGinger.

Trusting her sister would wait quietly, Prim strolled alongthe trail to the edge of the forest. With each careful step, her boots crushedwithered leaves. She slipped behind the massive trunk of an oak tree, brushingher fingers on its rough bark, and dropped onto hands and knees. Crawling underthe heavy branches, she gained a vantage point behind a protruding rock andpeered across the valley.

Beyond the edge of the forest, meadow grass, scattered with grayrocks and scrawny bushes, covered the downhill slope. The trail ran into thevalley, joining a wider track beside the stream at the bottom. Another forestrose on the opposite side of the meandering stream, the lower branches protrudinglike fingers over the water.

The valley was not empty. Two men on fine white horsestrotted along the track by the stream. Sunlight glinted on their helmets, thehilts of their swords, and the bosses of their shields. The lead rider worechainmail under his cloak and rode a big-boned steed. His slim companion wasmounted on a smaller horse.

Prim’s tension eased. The strangers bore none of the insigniaof the hateful enemy. Their greenish-brown cloaks and earth-toned trousers hadno resemblance to the scarlet kilts and cloaks emblazoned with a black dragon ofRaglan’s cavalry. 

She gazed enviously at their chainmail and gleaming helmets.Such fine battle gear would have spared her many a wound. But the cost of a chainmailshirt or a steel helmet was beyond her means. And her last engagement, thedisastrous defeat of Athelric’s forces by Raglan’s remorseless army, gave herno chance to scavenge from fallen foes. 

At first, she was inclined to hide in the woods until themen had ridden out of the valley. Neither she nor Jess would welcome thescrutiny of strangers. Then, she spied movement in the shadows under the treeson the far side of the stream. Her senses on alert, she discerned dark shapescreeping between the trees at a site ahead of the two riders. An ambush.

A figure peered around a tree trunk. She glimpsed its misshapenhead. A goblin.

She caught her breath and froze in alarm. These foulcreatures from old folktales had emerged around the same time as Raglan’s invasionof Barringsland. Shades of Hades, she could not let the strangers blunder into thistrap.

Wriggling backwards, she retreated to the trail andreclaimed Ginger’s reins from her sister.

“Goblins,” she whispered in an urgent voice. “They’re skulkingin the woods near the path of two riders. I have to warn the men.” 

“Of course,” Jess said with touching faith in her sister’sdecision.

Prim stabbed her forefinger at Jess. “Wait in the forest.I’ll ride into the valley and alert the strangers.”

Her face pale and scared, Jess nodded.

Prim swung into the saddle and pressed her legs intoGinger’s flanks, urging her forward. The chestnut mare trotted to the verge ofthe forest and halted at Prim’s touch on the reins.

Shading her eyes with one hand, Prim peered down to thetrail by the stream. The scene showed little change. The two riders, heedlessof any danger, approached the point on the trail where the goblins lurked inthe shadows of the trees.

Freeing her sword, Prim slapped the mare’s neck in thesignal to gallop. As Ginger pounded downhill, Prim yelled, “Goblins. Anambush.” Her voice rang clear to the strangers.

The lead rider pulled his sword from the scabbard. Hishelmet glinted as he glanced at her and raised his shield in acknowledgement.His steed sped into a canter.

His companion mirrored his actions. Both riders raced towardthe ambush. 

The goblins, realizing they had lost the advantage ofsurprise, sprang out of the forest and leaped across the stream.

The leading rider shouted, “Ware Brightblade.” His big horseplunged into the swarm of goblins. His sword flashing in the sunlight, thestranger milled through the goblins. His battle-trained charger twisted andreared, smashing its hooves onto the attackers. The clang of steel on steel andcrunch of hooves on bone resounded across the valley.

Prim gripped Ginger’s flanks and charged toward the conflict.Anger mixed with remorse at her recklessness. Why hadn’t she stood at thesummit and fired arrows? Why hadn’t she removed the heavy saddlebags? Theirweight would hinder her poor mare.

Blood throbbing in her ears, she shifted into icy battlemode and fell upon the goblins. She knocked the sword out of the nearestopponent’s fist. An instant later, a mass of the ugly brutes crowded around Primand Ginger. Goblins loved horsemeat and they were not adverse to human flesh.

Ginger dodged from side to side, freeing Prim to slash herblade into one ugly fiend after another. Thankfully, the sturdy saddlebags protectedthe mare’s flanks rather than impeding her progress.

Shrieks, howls, and the rank stench of their foul bodiesfilled the air.

A few paces away, the stranger’s sword and his whitecharger’s hooves spread slaughter 

A frightened scream diverted Prim’s attention to thehillside.

Jess was riding downhill toward the battle. Why had her foolishsister left the safety of the trees? Her bay mare had no experience of goblinsor of battle.

Clover shied and bucked, jolting Jess off the saddle. Freedof her rider’s weight, the mare spun away from the threat and raced uphill intothe woods.

Jess tumbled to the ground. She rolled over and laymotionless. 

Goblins bounded uphill toward her hapless sister.

Terrified they would kill Jess, Prim swung Ginger uphill.

Before Prim could reach her sister, a slim stranger gallopedpast. He thrust his sword and felled two goblins. The others fled downhill. Theman slid to the ground and bent over Jess’ prone body.

As Prim rode near, he looked up, saying in a lilting tenor,“I’ll tend to her. Fend off the goblins.”

Prim swung her mare around and surveyed the remnants of combaton the near bank of the stream.

Sword held upright, the senior warrior rode in a circlethrough a scene of carnage. His well-trained mount stomped its hooves on theirfallen opponents. Clearly he shared her hatred for the vile creatures.

Goblin bodies were strewn across the grass. Some lay in thestream, their blood fouling the water. Other goblins scrambled into the trees. Inanother moment, their vicious foes had vanished. Even the scuffle of theirfootsteps in the dry leaves faded into the distance.

Prim exhaled in relief. They had routed the goblins.Swinging off the saddle, she ran to Jess.

Now helmetless. the slim stranger propped her sister’s headon his arm. A blush coloring her pretty face, she gazed up at her young rescuer,groaning, “Oh, my head throbs.”

“Lie still,” he murmured. Working one handed, he extracted asmall bottle from a pouch on his belt. He flipped up the cap and offered thebottle to Jess. “Take a sip.” His musical voice held a soothing appeal. Hetilted the bottle to her sister’s lips.

Wary of the unknown contents of his little bottle, Primgrabbed his wrist and demanded, “What’s that drink?” Gentle Jess had nosuspicion of a man offering a strange liquid. Prim’s memories curdled unbidden,smelly taverns, men with fake grins plying her with ale, their grimy hands uponher. She hoped Jess would never experience those ills.

Sincerity written on his handsome face, the stranger said, “Itis a healing cordial. ‘Twill lessen her aches.” 

Vexed by his rapidpenetration of her sister’s disguise, Prim stiffened. Yet his fair face held nohint of guile. Deciding he was not a threat, she saidgruffly, “Give her the cordial.”

He reverted his attention to her naive sister. “What’s yourname?”

“Jess,” shemurmured. “Jess Pringle.”

“I’m Faran Truesinger.” Glancing back at Prim, he explained,“She was stunned by the fall. She has broken no bones.”

Dropping on one knee beside her sister, Prim asked, “How doyou feel?”

Jess wailed, “Oh Prim, I’m so sorry. When I saw the goblins rushout of the trees, I was afraid. I thought they were creeping up behind me.”

Prim gave a wry chuckle. “Next time, listen to me.”

“I will.” Jess scrambled into a sitting position, supportedby Faran, and looked around. “Where’s Clover.”

“She bolted,” Prim said bluntly. “Scared of the goblins.”

“Oh no,” Jess cried. “It’s my fault.”

“No.” Prim held up an admonishing finger. “It’s the fault ofthe goblins’.”

“Fear not,” Faran said.“Despite her terror, I doubt your mare ran far. Let me look for her.”

“Please do,” Jess pleaded.

The slender youth ran upthe hill and into the trees.

Jess whined, “How will we manage with only one horse?”

Prim shrugged. “Ginger can carry both of us.” The loss ofClover was a severe setback. The mare had carried not only Jess, but their tentand her sister’s saddlebags with her space clothes and half of their food. Yet,they would survive despite their losses.

“Wait here,”she said. “I’ll get your stuff.” Her sister’s quiver had come loose and arrowswere scattered over the grass. Her waterskin lay a little farther away. Primhastened to gather the arrows as a future defense. Jess was far better as an archerthan as a swordswoman.

The other stranger rode up from the stream toward her. Partway up the slope, he dismounted in a lithe motion. Leaving his white chargerfree to graze, he picked up her sister’s waterskin and a couple of arrows andstrode up to Prim. 

Although Prim was taller than most men, her eyes were onlevel with this stranger’s chin. Every inch of his athletic frame and garbproclaimed the champion warrior from his hard gray eyes under the burnishedsteel helmet to his chainmail shirt, long sword, and steel-tipped boots.

He handed her the arrows and waterskin. Removing his helmetin a courteous gesture, he revealed a stern visage. Sunlight glinted on long silver-blondhair falling to his shoulders. His cool blue-gray eyes, straight brows and thefirm line of his mouth pronounced a resolute authority. She could not guess hisage. His smooth chin and cheeks bore no trace of a beard. Only the tinycrinkles at the corners of his eyes and lips indicated his mature years.

His expression warmed as he gazed at her. Dipping his headin a slight bow, he said, “Well met, friend. My thanks for your warning and yourkeen swordsmanship.”

His deep melodic voice sent a warm thrill through her. Unsettledby this compliment from a stranger, she fought to keep her expression neutral. Hewas gorgeous, totally gorgeous. She had never met a more attractive man.

“I hate goblins,” she said gruffly. Nodding at his steed,she said, “Your horse is magnificent. Truly fit for a battle mount.”

The muscular gray stallion had trotted to Ginger and wassniffing the mare in a proprietary manner.

“Storm has carried me in many a battle.” Following her gaze,the warrior said, “Your stalwart mare is also accustomed to combat.”

Having exchanged compliments on their horses, Prim resolvedto learn more about the stranger and asked, “What’s your name, Sir?”

“You may call me Thorn,” he said gravely.

“I’m Prim. Primrose Pringle, or Prim the Grim to myenemies.” She eyed his stern face speculatively. How would he respond?

He smiled and his voice warmed, “A fitting name for a valiantwarrior.”

Stilling her racing pulse, she asked, “Where is yourhomeland, Thorn?”

“When I’m not engaged in battle, I live in Oakenwald.”

“Legendary Oakenwald? Are you an elf?” she demanded.

His smile dimmed a fraction. “My nephew, Faran, and I areboth elves. We owe allegiance to Queen Krisolde Whitestar.” He aimed his thumbto the northern end of the valley. “Enough of pleasantries. We must depart fromthis valley before the goblins recover their courage and attempt anotherassault.”

“Good idea.” Restoring the arrows into the quiver, she turnedto look at Jess. She sat in the same position, staring uphill at the woodswhere the younger elf had stepped into the trees.

Thorn asked, “Canyou manage with only one horse?”

“Jess and I can both ride my mare,” she said gruffly.   

“In recompense for the horse you lost while fighting on our behalf, will youpermit Faran and me to escort you as far as our roads run together?”

A glance at her sister’s face showed awed fascination. Primdeduced Jess would favor the strangers’ company. The goblins had proved thetrail was more hazardous than she had expected. Two extra swordsmen wouldprovide well-needed protection. And surely such valiant elves would not harmtwo women.

She said, “We’ll be glad to ride with you, Thorn.”

A fluting whistle sounded from inside the forest at the top of the hill. 

“My nephew sings true,” Thorn said. “Wild beasts and tamewill heed his call.”

While they waited for Faran, Prim went to check her steed. Unharmedby the goblins, Ginger was grazing peacefully beside the big stallion. Thechestnut mare lifted her head and sniffed at her mistress. Prim stroked themare’s soft nose, patted her sleek neck, and left her to feed on the yellowedgrass.

His expression grim, Thorn stared at the forest beyond thestream as if he wished to penetrate the darkness beneath the trees and discernany new threats. After a brief survey, he looked at Prim and asked, “Where areyou bound in this wilderness?”

“My brother Jess and I are traveling to the border betweenBarringsland and the Northlands.”

“Brother?” His voice grew sharp with skepticism.

Rattled by the disbelief in his tone, Prim blurted anexplanation, “It’s a disguise. Meant to deter unwanted attention on our journey.”

He looked at Jess and shrugged. “Such a pretty lad would failto discourage all attentions.”

Prim buried her head in her hands and groaned. He had crushedthe entire basis for her deception. He must think her a fool. Desirous ofsalvaging her dignity, her words gushed out, “I served in King Athelric’stroops before Raglan’s army broke the siege of his stronghold in Castleton.Since our retreat, I learned his Marshall had ridden north to assemble a newarmy at the border. I decided to join the fight. The call to arms arrived alongwith news of the invaders’ northward march along the Vale of Taw.” She gesturedto the east across the stream. “Hence we chose to travel in the hills above thevalley.”

“A good choice,” he remarked, “were it not for goblins andtheir ilk.”  

She wrinkled her nose. “Why were goblins lurking in thesewoods? I’ve never seen so many of the evil brutes.”

“Nor have I.” His blond brows compressed in a frown. “I fearthey seek the scrounging’s of a fresh battle.” 

She mused, “The goblins first appeared in the wake ofRaglan’s invasion. Before that catastrophe, goblins were unknown except for oldfolktales.”

“Aye. Raglan’s sorcerers summoned vicious creatures toharass the people of this continent. Dragons are reputed to be the worst of theevils. Doubtless in due course, I will have the ill luck to meet one.”

Clenching her fist on her sword hilt, Prim squashed ashudder. “I’ve no wish to fight a fearsome dragon.”

A moment later, their conversation ceased when Faranreappeared. A flock of small birds fluttered around his head as he hurried downthe hill.

Rejoining them, he shook his head and sighed. “The mare randeeper into the forest. I heard her snuffling in the trees beyond the trail. Sheis afraid to come out and I dared not linger.” He smiled at Jess, saying, “Youneed not despair. Clover will follow us once she is calmer. She knows yourscent and the stallion will tempt her.”  

Poor comfort, Prim thought. What if the goblins find Clover first?As usual, she steeled her expression and refrained from burdening her littlesister with this unhappy notion.

“Faran and I willcarry your belongings.” Thorn plucked the quiver of arrows off hershoulder and tossed it to his companion, calling, “Strap this quiver on Melody.We’re moving on.” He strode to Ginger, transferred Prim’s pack to his ownsteed, and held the mare’s reins for Prim to mount.

She hopped into the saddle. Scrunching forward, she tappedthe rear of the saddle and reached out to Jess. “Climb up.”

Faran boosted Jess onto the saddle behind Prim.

“Hold tight to me,” Prim said.

As the elves donned their helmets and mounted their horses,Jess hugged Prim’s waist and whispered, “Ooh, elves.”

Prim shared her sister’s curiosity about the handsome elves,although she had misgivings. Men had betrayed her trust before, more than once.But never again. She had renounced men and their faked friendship. All her fumblingattempts to gain a lover had proved painful mistakes. What man could truly lovea scarred warrior woman?

Unlike her pathetic prospects, men were often attracted toher pretty sister. Was Jess still a virgin with a naïve view of males? Did sheneed protection from their vulgar attentions? A contrary thought drifted intoher mind. Their new companions were elves not men. Prim felt a strongattraction to Thorn. She admired his warm smile, deep voice, and warrior’spoise. Yet she could ill afford a distraction on this perilous journey. And hemust find her scarred face truly repulsive.