Monthly Archives: March 2015

A piece of Part I; Mintor King

Slowly order, that had threatened to slip in the morning, was restored by the arrival of troops under a strange banner of a forest with a dragon flying over it.

People also calmed down as food was distributed. Men came to Lord Guthrun to enlist to free the Keep of all black robes. By nightfall the third division entered the lower city.

Lord Guthrun and his commanders discussed options over a small dinner when Najir entered, shivering from the cold.

‘By the pits of doom,’ he mumbled through chattering teeth. ‘If it be any colder your breath will freeze.’

‘Get him hot tea and a blanket,’ Lord Guthrun ordered, moving a comfortable chair to the fire place. ‘Sit and get warm first, my friend, then tell me news I want to hear.’

Najir eyed the Lord wearily. ‘You begin to sound like a true commander, milord.’

Guthrun smiled. ‘I begin to feel like one. Here’s some hot stew.’

Between bites and sips Najir told he had met with Moko. About sixty men were coming from surrounding villages where people had taken and burnt the churches. She was on her way to the Zokida to get some dragons to the Keep for an assault.

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‘Most important,’ he finished. ‘The weather will change. Clear weather is coming, which will mean cold clear days, but misty mornings.’

Lord Guthrun walked back to the table with the model of the Keep. ‘Mist might favour us,’ he said. ‘It’ll give us a chance to get to the gate unseen. Dragons dropping men and attacking from above will distract the defenders. The men dropped into the Keep, preferably on the wall, will have to light fires so as to guide the dragons where to attack. Do you think a few fire blasts from a dragon will destroy the gate?’

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Another book sent into the world

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I received my writers copies this weekend. Even after two published books it made me feel lind of proud to hold the fruit of my labours in my hands again, especially as this time the map was added.

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It still makes me proud and gives me a sense of accomplishment. It encourages me to go on to finish the whole story.

I am busy with that, one more chapter to go and it will be finished. And, you know, no matter what, at least my son is pround of his father.

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Now it is waiting for november whem part IV will be released.

Rys Rising by Tracy Falbe; a review

A small tribe is being destroyed by another tribe, the leader is left for dead, but he is found by a Rys, Onja. A race of powerful magical people living in the Rysamond mountains, also know as the Jingten. She nurses him back to health, he renames himself Amar and as he has nothing to return to he joins the Kez, a band of ruthless outlaws, becoming one of their great war leaders.

Dacian, another Rys, is aspiring to become a priest in a human sect of magic users, the Kwelstan. They have taken over part of the Rysamond region and treat the Rys as second rate citizens as they fear their natural magical abilities. Dacian is very powerful and is taken to the Kwelstan base of power in the Nufal valley to be taught humility and servitude, as he objects to Onja being punished for going into the west. It is forbidden for the Rys to go into the west. He resists and is punished heavily for that.

Both Onja and Dacian rise against the Kwelstan to free their people. Onja is still in contact with Amar, helping him to become the great war leader he is.

Dacian makes a spectacular escape, with Onja’s help, from his Kwelstan prison to finally learn that being trained by the Kwelstan to become a priest is of no use to help his people become full citizens.

The stage is set for the Rys to become the power they are.

Tracy Falbe weaves a wonderful and magical story with ease and sweeps along the reader in the adventures of the main characters. Each character has its own story that connects with the others here and there setting the pieces for the next books in this amazing series that will find its place in every fantasy library.

A must read for all fantasy lovers.

By: B.

From Part I; Mintor King

As he was very close to the leg coming from behind a sort of crevice he saw the empty horse come from between the boulders. A strange outlandish curse sounded and the leg moved.

Coughlin didn’t hesitate a second. With great strength he grabbed the leg and pulled hard. He felt the weight give and come forward. With a bloodcurdling yell a man like figure dressed in heavy warm robes went down to hit a boulder with a sickening thud.

In an instant Coughlin swung himself around the corner to land on a small plateau with a small cave in the back.

Two very surprised beast-men were still busy getting to their feet when he was on them. A mighty kick with one leg was enough to sent the smaller of the two a few feet back, slamming against the rock wall, knocking the breath out of the fellow. The other received a hammock fist in the middle of his face sending him to the floor like a bag of salt.

‘Angus,’ he called softly. ‘Angus, are you alright?’

‘Yeah laddy, I be fine. The Bullface down here be not. Ye cracked his skull.’

‘Can you come up here, there be two more, alive.’

‘I’ll try me lad, I’ll try. Give us a hand here laddy,’ Angus puffed a few moments later poking his red head over the edge.

Angus found two bound and gagged beast-men, one unconscious, one looking at them with fear and hatred in his eyes.

‘The cave?’

‘Empty,’ Coughlin answered. ‘Just supplies and firewood.’

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From The Claws of the Earth Part I; Mintor King

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From the corner of his eyes the Dig saw Bino struggling to keep her sword in control, but she managed to get it to touch Mintor’s blade. Light became blinding as all shut their eyes.

Alyaya felt herself drawn towards Mintor. She placed her hands on his shoulders and threw her head back.

With incredible force Ananeya was thrown out of the little girl’s body, not in an ethereal form, but in a pure physical form.

She panted heavily, lying on the cold stone florr, shivering as she was naked.

Alyaya slumped against Mintor’s back and went out cold.

Above the altar the ethereal shape of a dwarf with a nasty face and a very mischievous look in its dark eyes appeared.

‘Well well,’ its hollow, but deep voice, rumbled through the chamber. ‘At last there are some that know how to be using their minds and be doing the right thing. The main sword be now a magical weapon, princeling. Point it at yer target and be focussing all thee energy to it. Ye shall be seeing the effects. When all blades be together ye be performing this ceremony again  a wee bit so it’ll be even stronger. Be finding one blade in the glenns of Killkanney and the last be in the palace of the king. The dragons, me sense, be already awoken, now be waking the dwarfs if thee can be finding them. Good fortune me laddies, good fortune.’

The spectre vanished, the light was gone.

In Soboií

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The Dog grinned menacingly. ‘We’ll fight our way out or be captured, simple.’

‘Then we’ll miss our boat to the north.’

‘Angus-Molt isn’t the only one sailing north. Now come with me so we can some sleep this night. But first we’ll have to kill those thugs from the inn following us.’

They turned into a dimly lit alley that was strewn with garbage, drew their swords and waited.

The four that had followed them into the inn entered the alley with weapons drawn, ready to fight. The dim light was just enough to make out one anothers shape and the chances of being overheard in the ruckus of Soboií were extremely small.

‘Keep one of them alive,’ the Dog growled softly. ‘We might learn something.’

The debris and poor visibility made their footing very unsure so neither party could rush the other. They both carefully moved towards each other, ready to strike out.

The Dog had drawn his normal blade, Mintor noticed, and understood that the alley didn’t leave him enough room to swing the deadly battle iron hanging on his back.

Quite suddenly Mintor jumped forward stabbing one of his opponents straight through the throat. Blood gushed out as the man went down to his knees, gurgling.

Immedeiately the fight was joined. Blades clashed and flashed, grunts and curses could be heard as men tried to find sure footing and balance among the debris.

Slipping on something wet, the Dog received a cut in his arm, but that left an opening in his opponents defense for his blade to inspect some guts.

Mintor was bleeding from a cut in his brow, but his adversary was staggering and bleeding from multiple wounds.

With a swift and completely unexpected move Mintor sliced his blade through the man’s neck, the head fell sideways and blood geysered from the body as it toppled over.

The Dog faced the sole member of the thugs who was slowly retreating. In the blink of an eye one of te long double barreled pistols was in his free hand. Both hammers cracked as they were cocked.

‘Who sent you after us. Tell and you may live.’

‘Kah-Ahm, the wolfman. We were to bring you to him alive.’

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Excerpt from Part I; Mintor King

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‘Give him back his papers of his boat and leave him be,’ the Dog grumbled dangerously coming from behind the table, throwing his cloak over his shoulders for better freedom of movement, reveiling the arsenal he carried.

The fan changed immediately, including the heavily armed stranger.

The young man had also risen to join the side of Angus-Molt and the stranger.

The looks on Rollin’s face and that of his companions changed from pleasurably certain to uncertain fear.

The Dog signalled to the young man who quickly moved to block the way to the door. The Dog noticed that the young man moved sure of himself, had the right way of balance and knew that he knew how to handle his sword.

‘One more time,’ the Dog growled. ‘Give the man back the papers of his boat and leave this ploace alive.’

Rollin snorted and lunged at Angus-Molt as his companions lunged at the Dog and the young man.

Steel on steel send ringing clashes through the room as the six men locked in combat. The fire made the blades glitter in a grizzly light as they tried so very hard to slice and penetrate the others men’s flesh.

Angus-Molt quickly side stepped the thrust of Rollin, knocking the blade aside with his axe while his free hammock fist sent Rollin reeling through the room. Mintor easily blocked the blow aimed at his head and immediately went over to the attack, driving his opponent to the fire.

Angus-Molt saw the Dog move from the corner of his eyes as he dashed after Rollin. He noticed that the Dog didn’t move, but sort of danced as he fought. All was one fluid motion. One stance effortlessly going over into another. A mean grin showed through the rough beard of the sailor as he realised that the heavily armed stranger wasn’t fighting with his opponent, he was playing with him.

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