BLURB: In
ages gone by, the gods of the mountains had split the earth in two. Now that passage must form a barrier against
invaders. Javrik, clan chieftain’s son,
has known his wife for only a month when he must defend her. Arman, soldier from a far-off land, finds
himself fighting for people he never knew existed. The lives of nomads, raiders, warriors and
lovers are changed forever in the shadow of Grandfather Mountain.
EXCERPT:
The chestnut,
uncharacteristically, took a misstep and then another. He had been going on a
loose rein, but now he raised his head and Javrik tensed instantly. The sun was
long past its zenith, but bright enough. There would be no concealment for any
rider who left the woods or the walls, so he pulled up in the shelter of some
stones that were still standing and waited, short sword in hand. He carried a
bow, the sword and a dagger. Araks had never made armor. He had a fast horse,
but that was no defense against an arrow.
He had no
defense of any meaningful kind against what he saw emerge from the woods. An
Omani cavalry officer in full battle gear rode towards him at a flat-footed
walk, and Javrik made a small sign of supplication to his gods because it was
like looking at a ghost. They had assumed not one of those men still lived, yet
here was one with armor, sword and spear, riding a horse capable of knocking
his horse flat and running him over. It was what they were trained to do.
The officer‘s
bay charger stopped instantly, perhaps twenty paces from him. Javrik had not
even seen the rider signal the horse. The horse wore armor, too, on its most
vulnerable spots, gleaming in the sunlight. A single mounted Omani cavalryman
was said to be worth three of any other because you could stop them only with a
crossbow or a spear, neither of which he had.
“Hola,”
Javrik said, using the universal greeting, then switching to Omani, hoping it
was good enough. “I have no quarrel with
you.”
The officer
removed his helmet; he had understood. He was older than Javrik but still
young, with dark curly hair and a typical Omani profile—bold features, olive
skin. And clean-shaven, which meant he was from a city somewhere.
“Nor I with
you,” he said.
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
Fantasy poetry driven by myths and legends has been
my passion for as long as I can remember. I was published in poetry before
catching the romance writing bug. I bring that background to my writing along
with a lifelong addiction to horses, an 18 year career in various areas of psychiatric
social services and many trips to Ireland, where I nurture my muse. My
published works range from contemporary fantasy romance to fantasy historical,
futuristic, science fiction and historical romance. Currently I live in rural
Pennsylvania with a “motley crew” of rescue animals. You can see my books at
www.miriamnewman.com.
Website:
http://miriamnewman.com
Website:
http://thedarkcastlelords.net
Blog:
http://miriamnewman.com/blog
Blog:
http://thecelticroseblog.blogspot.com
Email:
mrmireland@aol.com
Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/AuthorMiriamNewman
Twitter:
https://www.twitter.com/miriamnewman
BookBub:
https://www.bookbub.com/authors/miriam-newman-cf7ca8bf-caab-4b7e-a6f2-7db5490d9215
Goodreads Author Page:
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3146550.Miriam_Newman
Amazon Author Page:
http://www.amazon.com/Miriam-Newman/e/B005DBFZUG
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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Thank you for hosting Light of the Gods.
ReplyDeleteThanks for hosting!
ReplyDeleteI like the book cover, the book sounds good
ReplyDeleteThanks, Marisela. December 12 was my mother's birthday. Mom was an avid reader and history buff and I'd like to think she'd be pleased by this books' appearance on Victoria's pretty blog.
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