An
Arrow Against the Wind
The
Bow of Hart Saga: Book 2
by
P.H. Solomon
Genre:
Epic Fantasy
Haunted by his past. Hunted in the present. Buffeted like an arrow in the wind.
The
hunt for the Bow of Hart continues for Athson and his companions.
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
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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.
The
Bow of Destiny
The
Bow of Hart Saga: Book 1
Haunted
by his past. Hunted in the present. Uncertain what is real.
Athson
has seen things that aren't there and suffered fits since being
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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Arrows screeched by his head. "Arrows!" He
hoped she heard. He kicked his gelding. It was labored though it ran hard.
They surged from the pursuit as more arrows whizzed
past. Athson leaned low over his horse’s neck. Limbreth cried out in pain. The
white mare slowed, and Athson's horse overtook her and matched the mare's pace.
He shouted over the noise of thundering hooves.
"Where are you hurt?"
"Arm." Limbreth gritted her teeth. Like a
shadow, the dark arrow and blood trailed on her lighter clothing and soaked her
left arm. They slowed and the trolls rushed closer. "Break it!"
Limbreth snarled through gritted teeth. Her sword quivered as her arm lost
strength.
He reached for the arrow as they slowed to a trot.
He braced one hand against her as she leaned into him with a moan. With the
other hand, he snapped off the feathered end of the arrow. He caught a glimpse
of her face twisted in pain as he tore the arrow from her arm.
Trolls rushed closer and arrows sang death near
them.
"Ride." Limbreth’s weak voice countered
the strength of her kicks to the mare's flanks.
Athson trailed behind her. Harsh voices snarled
ahead, and Limbreth’s horse thundered into more trolls. They screeched beneath
the mare’s hooves. He sensed more trolls struggling out of the underbrush.
Limbreth swayed in her saddle, but the mare galloped away.
Athson's horse labored but followed. "Hang
on!"
Tense moments passed, but the sight of lights hove
into view away in the distance.
Athson urged the horse on, but it slowed and
snorted. A groan of effort rolled from the gelding. Limbreth’s horse thundered
on and she bobbed atop her mare.
Athson’s gelding broke pace altogether and slowed to
a trembling stop. Athson dismounted, aware that trolls raced toward him. The
horse collapsed, and he glimpsed several arrows sticking out of the gelding’s
chest and lower neck. Blood gushed and stained its coat.
Trolls howled along the trail. Athson wheeled from
the dying horse. They were too close. A few ill-aimed arrows whistled past him.
Athson hefted his sword against the fastest of the
trolls. He slashed at kobolds and several fell amid spurting blood. Hobgoblins
and bugbears leaped at him.
Spark jumped among them and tore out a throat.
Athson gasped. The trolls leapt back, on-guard for what attacked them.
Limbreth’s white mare suddenly charged past him into
the boiling mass of trolls. Bodies flew aside, and the trolls fell back in
momentary confusion.
"Come on, vermin!" Limbreth's horse stood
exposing her good right arm. Her left arm still shook. The rising moon gleamed
on her pale clothing, her swords and her white horse. She glimmered silver in
the light.
The trolls hesitated.
"Cowards!" Limbreth charged into them.
Athson leapt over his horse with a wordless shout.
He hacked and slashed at the nearest trolls. Limbreth pummeled with the hilt of
her one usable sword and slashed at the trolls lunging at her.
Free
Prequel short stories to The Bow of Hart Saga:
P.
H. Solomon lives in the greater Birmingham, AL area where he strongly
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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