Haunted by his past. Hunted in the present. Buffeted like an arrow in the wind.
They have escaped the clutches of Magdronu and Corgren, but they are
still pursued. In need of answers to deep mysteries revealed in
Chokkra, Athson must gain possession of the mythic bow to face both
his enemies and his tragic past. But Magdronu’s reach stretches among
Athson’s companions, endangering Limbreth and even Hastra in schemes
to entrap them all. With each turn of the search for the Bow of Hart,
long hidden secrets surface that threaten to destroy Athson. Will he
falter like an arrow against the wind?
“An Arrow Against the Wind is a wonderful follow-up to The Bow of
Destiny.” – Bookwraiths
“We have read more than a couple great books this year, and An Arrow
Against the Wind is surely among them.” – Fantasia Reviews
tragically orphaned as a child at the hands of trolls and Corgren the
wizard. When a strange will mentioning a mysterious bow comes into
his possession, he’s not sure it’s real. But the trolls that soon
pursue him are all too real and dangerous. And what’s worse, these
raiders serve Corgren and his master, the hidden dragon, Magdronu,
who are responsible for the destruction of his childhood home. Athson
is drawn into a quest for the concealed Bow of Hart by the mystic
Withling, Hastra, but Athson isn’t always sure what’s real and who
his enemies are. With Corgren and Magdronu involved, Athson must face
not only frequent danger but his grasp on reality and the reasons
behind his tragic past.
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Even the priests’ faces paled. Their leader in the dark feather headdress waved servants forward. “Quickly! Dose them. We must be away ere our master comes!”
Men and women rushed among the captives and forced liquid into their mouths. They forced their mouths shut lest the captives spit it out. They tried Ralda after making him kneel at spear-point, but he laughed at them and snapped at their hands like a dog before they got some in his mouth. They struggled with his face, and he spat much of the potion out. Good for him. But a guard approached the giant from behind and whacked Ralda twice over the head. The giant sank to his knees, gagged out the potion, and rolled onto his side with a groan.
They shifted to Athson. Not good for their escape plans if Ralda was down. Athson clenched his teeth, but they slapped him, and the ogres pounded in his head. His eyes fluttered. More snake-faced hobgoblins leered. “Leave me, troll.” They poured the liquid into his mouth, and he gagged. Bitter. His stomach flopped in protest. In moments he felt dizzier, but the cold left his body. Athson’s thoughts fragmented and came in random succession. The priests chanted while the guardsmen bound them all tightly after forcing them to the ground.
Athson swayed. Trolls sang. He collapsed on his side and stared at the leering hobgoblins. Where were the Rokans? Loose stone poked the Archer’s side. It didn’t matter, for some reason.
Ralda groaned and stirred, but only a little.
Athson stared into the far distant sky. “The Funnel’s so high.” No, he wasn’t there right now. The other captives groaned occasionally as the sun set and the wind howled. The priests and the guardsmen were gone. They were not going to kill him, then. They left them for dead. Ralda, he was going to do something. Athson rolled over. The giant lay still. That was bad, for some reason.
Lightning flashed. Athson shut his eyes and screamed at the nearness. Wind rushed about the natural table of stone and yanked at his sandy hair and worn clothing. Why did he scream like that? Lightning. The notion of alarm faded in his awareness.
Thunder pounded around him and rolled about in echoes. Athson stirred in his drugged stupor. He opened his eyes. Ralda lay nearby, and beyond the giant sprawled the shapes of dwarves as gloom gathered beneath the storm. Move. His muscles never responded to the distant command from his mind.
Thunder boomed again. Another peal answered like massive wings flapping. Athson rolled his head with a groan. A massive black shape settled onto the peak. Yellow eyes glared unblinkingly down at them.
dislikes yard work and sanding the deck rail. However, he performs
these duties to maintain a nice home for his loved ones as well as
the family’s German Shepherds. In his spare time, P. H. rides herd
as a Computer Whisperer on large computers called servers (harmonica
not required). Additionally, he enjoys reading, running, most sports
and fantasy football. Having a degree in Anthropology, he also has a
wide array of more “serious” interests in addition to working
regularly to hone his writing. The Bow of Destiny is his first
novel-length title with more soon to come.
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