Into the Fire
…with a tree sticking out of his bellybutton.
Wendell’s task is simple: get to Til-Thorin Keep.
Add to that no map, no help and no flippin’ idea where he is and you have a day in the life of a hero.
Oh wait–we forgot to add the army of cannibals now nipping at his heels.
It just might be the death of him.
Never underestimate your enemy.
…or their henchmen.
There’s always one, with their own evil agenda, that you’ll have to deal with.
His eyes remained hungrily fixed on Til-Thorin, tongue rolling over his teeth like a hungry wolf. Thule could smell the fear. It floated down from the walls and across the fields. Even nature trembled through the very trees surrounding them. But there was something else.
Thule sniffed the air once more.
There was magic here. Deep magic.
Eyelids narrowed to slits.
It was an ancient practice of the human mägo, used when building structures. Each stone blessed. Lambs blood in the mortar. It made them feel safe.
His lips curled back into a sardonic grin. Fools.
Thule cursed himself for not utterly destroying the outer defense of Andilain the last time he had invaded. His previous haste allowed the enemy to defeat him…and then rebuild.
The rumble rose from his chest.
This disgusting, weak, yet industrious breed deserved to be destroyed!
It mattered not, he realized. A Tauku mägo was dangerous enough, even against enchanted stone—but he had employed a coven. Thule’s mouth watered at the thought of the carnage to follow. Much blood would be spilt before they discovered the prize.
Behind him, the peasant village blazed. Sparks rose into the air like the rage offerings to his Master. Deserted and useless, the resources had been removed.
They knew the horde was coming…
But would not expect the truth. The dead would provide sustenance of his soldiers. It was the power of his army.
Let them smell the blood of the dying and they will fight like madmen to taste flesh.
The clash and clang of metal resounded form the blacksmith wagons. Swords, axes, pole-arms and hammers were laid out for inspection, while servants ran about, fulfilling the orders of their masters. The entire camp pulsed outward from the center of its power—the great caldron.
The wagon beneath the vat of metal had been burned, collapsing the object into place. Coated with the red liquid of its victims, the crying sculptures at each corner looked as if they wept blood.
Thule pulled the leather strap, securing the vambrace to his wrist and clenched his fist twice. A perfect fit.
His ears twitched at the approach of the slithering form.
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Overview & Preview
“Wendell has one goal, that’s it. Get to Til-Thorin Keep. You’d think that would be hard enough without knowing the land around you, but no–the author decides to take it up a notch. Then another notch…and another…until you have literally NO IDEA what the hell is going to happen. And no matter what conclusion you come to, you will be wrong!
These are the kind of books I love. The book is perfectly titled, because that’s what I went through–emotional fire. I couldn’t help but hurt for Wendell, who just wants to help people. Trouble is, like any of us in real life, he can’t meet all the expectations placed upon him by others. My heart kept beating faster and faster as the conflict rose in ways I never expected.“
– Amazon Review
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