Posts Tagged ‘Christian’

We’re moving back to Viking Denmark today for another extract from the Children of Ribe series with book 4, DOUBT. The series has been written to not only open up the world of Norse magic and myth for children, but also to help encourage children with dyslexia to read.

DOUBT: An extract

Pieter didn’t like travelling on ships. He got seasick after a few minutes on rafts, let alone in ships that crossed the Kattegat. Camila and Beatrix didn’t seem to be at all phased by travelling across the sea, even when the waves came over the side of the ship.

When land was sighted, Pieter was so relieved that he momentarily forgot his sickness; that is until he tried to stand.

“Pieter! It’s them! Look!” Camila shouted excitedly as the ship drew close enough to the shores of Fyn so that both Camila and Beatrix could see their brothers and friends stood beside the sea, almost as if they were waiting for them.

“It can’t be.” Pieter murmured as he stumbled across the deck, his hand clamped over his mouth.

“But it is! Look, Wifrith is there too!” Beatrix was just as excited as Camila.

“Who are the two men with them?” Camila asked her sister.

“I don’t know; they look familiar for some reason.” Beatrix said, scratching her head.

“They are some of the men from Hedeby that attacked Eva, Christian and Erland in Ribe.” Pieter said as he wretched over the side of the ship.

The captain brought his ship up on the shore and his sailors jumped over the side, rushing over to where the group of children stood.

“Where is the witch?” one of the sailors demanded.

“Which witch?” Erland asked.

“There’s more than one on this island?” another sailor asked, looking slightly worried.

“There are three.” Eva replied dryly.

“We’re looking for the witch that gave us gold to bring her here with some warriors from the south.” the first sailor replied. Christian, Eva, Oleg and Joas drew their swords and levelled them at the sailors.

“Why are you looking for her?” Riki asked. Wifrith was stood next to the young boy, but he wasn’t growling.

“The gold was enchanted. When we looked at it on the mainland it had all turned back to charcoal.” the second sailor grunted. The four warriors amongst the children lowered their swords and put them away.

“We don’t know where she is, but we want to talk to your captain.” Dalla said. The sailors looked at each other and nodded to those on-board that it was safe to disembark. The captain came over the side of the ship next whilst the other sailors helped Pieter, Camila and Beatrix to come ashore.

“Beatrix! Camila!” Riki shouted as he recognised his sisters getting off the ship. The boy ran forward with Wifrith beside him to greet the two girls.

“You know when Fjori said that there were three missing from our party, your sisters are the last people I would have thought she was talking about.” Erland whispered to Christian.

“Who are they?” Joas asked as he watched the two newly arrived girls with interest.

“They are Christian and Riki’s sisters.” Eva said with a warning note to her voice.

“They aren’t warriors like you, why are they here?” Oleg asked.

“I have no idea.” Eva shrugged.

Pieter struggled to disembark from the ship, even when he was on the land he still needed to sit for a few moments to recover before he could stand up again.

“Who is that mess?” Joas laughed as he saw Pieter sat by the sea with his head between his knees.

“My cousin, Pieter.” Eva replied shortly.

“Is he a warrior?” Oleg asked.

“Yes, he used to train with me.” Eva replied.

“Then why is he in such a bad state?” Joas was still laughing.

“He isn’t very good with boats.” Christian said with a broad smile.

“So these are the three that we have been missing from our party?” Dalla frowned.

“Two girls that don’t know anything about fighting and a boy who gets sea sick.” Erland shook his head as he spoke.

“Before you are too hard on Camila and Beatrix, none of you could fight before I trained you.” Eva reminded Erland and went to join Riki and Wifrith.

“Do you think they’ll survive training with Eva?” Erland asked his best friend. Christian responded with a broad grin, a supressed laugh and a shrug, before he followed his girlfriend.

“Captain!” Dalla called, and beckoned for the ship’s captain to come over.

“My sailors tell me the witch we are looking for isn’t here. What is it that you want?” the captain asked.

“We want you to take us all to Skåne. We have seven jars of mead to exchange for passage. If you are looking for the witch, she is looking for us. Wherever we go, she is sure to follow.” Erland replied.

“Mead? Let me taste it.” the captain said as he held out his hand for one of the jars. Oleg handed the captain the jar he was carrying. The captain opened it and took a swig out of it.

“Will you take us to Skåne?” Joas asked.

“For this mead, I’d take you to the end of the world,” the captain replied with a grin on his face, “is there anywhere that we can get water and food for the journey?” he asked.

“There’s water and some food that can be foraged, but the island doesn’t have much.” Oleg replied.

“Can you show my boys where it all is? Then as soon as we’ve restocked, we can be on the way.” the captain said.

“Oleg and I will show them,” Erland answered, “Dalla, you should take Joas and introduce him to the others.”

Dalla nodded and Joas followed her over to where Camila and Beatrix were hugging their brothers and Eva was sat by her cousin waiting for him to be well enough to talk.

“Dalla!” Beatrix squealed as she saw the young spell caster and rushed over to hug her. Dalla found it odd that Beatrix was being so friendly. They had never spoken in the village, Dalla hadn’t been there long enough for them to talk, let alone become friends.

“Don’t worry; she’s like that with everyone.” Riki beamed. He was clearly thrilled to have his sisters there as well as his older brother.

“Oh we’ve missed you both so much!” Camila said as she threw her arms around Riki for the fourth time.

“How are things in Ribe?” Christian asked as Eva led Pieter over to where the Anderson siblings stood.

“Bad. The warriors from Hedeby and Schleswig have marched on the town. Everyone is ready for war, they are defending the town. The elders sent us out after the first attacks on the south side of the town.” Pieter replied with a snarl in the direction of Joas.

“It wasn’t Joas that attacked Ribe.” Christian defended their new ally.

“I beg to differ. He was the one that led the warriors to attack the town to kill all of you.” Pieter growled in reply.

“You’re right, I did. I was doing what I was ordered to do as a warrior of my people. I was told it was to protect my home from the children of Ribe who were trying to find the arm rings to start the tribe wars again.” Joas spat back.

“And yet your people are the ones attacking us.” Pieter replied tartly.

“Enough bickering,” Eva said sternly, “Joas and Oleg chased us up to Lindholm and then down to Fyn. They have been trying to kill us since we first met them in Ribe, if anyone has a right to be angry with them – it’s us. They are not our enemies, they are working against Viggo.” she continued. Pieter stared at his cousin, not quite sure what to say.

Beatrix was stood next to Dalla, but she wasn’t listening to what the others were saying. She could hear the faint sound of singing coming from somewhere nearby.

“Beatrix, are you all right?” Christian asked, breaking her concentration on the far off music.

“Yes, I’m fine.” Beatrix smiled. The singing had stopped. She shook her head and watched as the captain gathered up the jars of mead and helped the children load the belongings and the ponies onto the ship.

“What is going on?” Pieter asked with concern.

“We’re taking the ship to Skåne.” Riki replied.

“Why can’t we stay here? We’ve only just arrived.” Pieter replied.

“The next arm ring is on Skåne. We need to get there as fast as we can. Fjori the völva told us where we can find it and that you would be arriving here.” Christian said with an edge to his voice.

“So you were here waiting for us!” Camila clapped her hands with delight.

“Yes, we should help the captain. The sooner we get everything loaded onto the ship, the sooner we can leave.” Eva said flatly.

“What’s wrong with Eva?” Joas mumbled to Christian.

“I don’t think she’s thrilled to have Pieter here.” Christian replied in a quiet voice.

“He’s her cousin though.” Joas frowned.

“Yes, and the only other warrior in Ribe who isn’t a married adult.” Christian replied.

“I see. What about your sisters? Are they married yet?” Joas asked lightly. Christian looked at Joas with a raised eyebrow, “I’m just asking.” Joas said defensively.

“They’re not married, Camila is seventeen and Beatrix is fifteen, does that answer any questions you have about them?” Christian asked with a wry smile.

“Yes, I was just curious as to why Pieter isn’t married to one of them.” Joas smiled.

“Because I would kill him before he married any woman that is important to me.” Christian replied dryly.

“You’re starting to sound like Eva.” Joas teased.

“In this case, that’s not a bad thing.” Christian sighed.

It didn’t take long for the sailors to return to the ship with Erland, Oleg, fresh water, berries foraged from the forest, packs of grass that had been cut for the ponies and eels that had been caught from the river.

When the captain was satisfied that everything had been stored properly on the ship, and that there was enough food and water on-board for his passengers, the were ponies securely tied up next to the cargo and all their bags tied down so that they wouldn’t slide about the ship, he gave the order to set sail.

The children were put to work on the ship, Camila and Beatrix were taking care of the ponies, Pieter was stood leaning over the rail of the ship, and the others were helping the sailors with sailing the ship.

They were at sea for little more than an hour when Beatrix could hear the far off singing drifting to her over the roar of the waves.

More about the Children of Ribe

A Viking Saga. The Children of the Viking town of Ribe must find the eight arm rings of Yngvar. The arm rings contain magic, which will save their town from the warrior horde of King Viggo Odinsen.

To find out more about the four books in the Children of Ribe series, follow these links: FATE, WAR, WIFRITH, DOUBT.

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With the manuscript for the sequel to We Do Not Kill Children in the hands of our editors, we’ve decided to celebrate with an extract from Penelope Wallace‘s debut novel and transport all you lovely readers to the kingdom of Marod.

We Do Not Kill Children: An Extract

Meril woke early, but lay still and tense, shivering a little and dreading getting up.  It was hard to believe that they were really going to do this thing.

Master Hassdan had spent most of the day before arranging it.  He told her that nothing would make the inhabitants of the house accept a desecration of the children’s graves; any explanation he could offer would be regarded as an insult.  So Mistress Soumaki was to undertake further questioning of Lord Gahran’s people that afternoon, all together in the hall, to keep them out of the way.  Soumaki plainly thought this a waste of time, and a distraction from their task, and said so forcefully.  The possibility that the children might have been substituted was a very faint and unlikely one.  Hassdan was in charge of the mission, so she had to give way, but she did not like it.  Meril, excruciatingly embarrassed, had to witness their argument.

As they left the room, Master Hassdan had relieved his feelings by slapping the back of her head, and saying, “Take that smirk off your face.  Go and make yourself useful in the kitchens.”  While she was doing this, he exerted the authority of the King’s Thirty over the two reluctant priests, and talked to Captain Rabellit, whom Cremdar had left in charge.  The captain was willing to help, he told Meril, but she had to select the least talkative of her soldiers to assist.  “Not that there’s much hope.  Someone will surely let it out.

Meril, chopping vegetables and apologising for the ones she dropped on the floor, had been trying to learn what the dead children had looked like, but she had discovered little.  They were all little angels.  Gascor had a mole next to his eye.  Ilda’s hair was curly, and Filana’s straight.  This was all she could learn, apart from the colours of the clothes they had been wearing that day.

She had asked several people about the events of the funeral, and learned these by heart.  Cremdar, Arvill and Braf had wrapped the children in a sheet and sewn it together “out of respect”, before breaking the news and arresting Dorac.  The actual bodies had been too terrible to be viewed, after what that monster had done to them.   All anyone else had seen was the bloodstains on Dorac’s cloak, and on the floor, and seeping through the sheet… and the fact of the children’s absence.  The remains had lain in the chapel with those of their father for an hour or so, for last rites to be spoken, and people to pray.  Then they had been carried out into the grounds by Captain Rabellit and one of her soldiers, with everyone else following behind.  Lord Gahran’s chaplain had spoken the words of the funeral service, and all had wept and crowded round while the bloodied sheet was placed in the earth, in a hole dug by the soldiers.  The other body, that of the stablehand Arator, had been buried later.

“Very very odd,” commented Master Hassdan.  “Not even a coffin.”  It was clear, he said, and Meril earnestly agreed, that the people of Ferrodach could have had no part in anything suspicious after the murders, at any rate.  Captain Rabellit seemed trustworthy, and she was sure the grave had not been disturbed since.  When asked if Ferrodach had had enough warning of their arrival to organise a substitution, she had thought not.  “Our scouts saw nothing, and when we rode up, everyone was very surprised.  Or seemed to be.”

So today they were to dig up corpses.  Meril could not get her mind off this, wondering how horrible the sight and smell would be, and if she would disgrace herself utterly – throw up, or scream, or worse, in front of everyone.  She thought of pictures at home of the opening of the tombs at the Last Judgment, which had given her and her sister nightmares.  Her stomach was cold and heavy, and she could not make herself move from her pallet outside the Ferrodach guest chamber.

Meril!  You good-for-nothing brat!  Are you intending to sleep till noon?  St John preserve me from idle children.”  Hassdan kicked her up, and she stammered apologies.  He was still complaining loudly about her laziness and clumsiness as they went down to the hall (the same stair that Master Dorac and Master Cremdar had used that day), and Soumaki gave her a compassionate look.  It was almost funny.

 

We Do Not Kill Children

front“We do not kill children; we do not commit rape; we do not take pleasure in torment.”

Dorac Kingsbrother was one of the King’s Thirty in the kingdom of Marod. That was before he was found guilty of the murder of Lord Gahran’s three children. Though Gahran was a traitor, his children were innocent. The code of the King’s Thirty leaves no room for such a barbaric act, and for this heinous crime Dorac faces a life in exile.

The shame of such a sentence is something that Dorac can’t brook, and so he sets off on a journey to the Old Stones, the place where those that seek death meet their end. Followed by Gormad, a child in search of adventure, Dorac is not alone on his final journey.

But not everyone believes that Dorac is guilty. Gemara Kingsister, head of the Six, investigates the murder of Gahran’s children; though there is more at stake than the life of a lone warrior in this, the first of the Tales from Ragaris.

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Well Christmas is well and truly done, so we shall be moving on into the New Year, but before we do, we have one more festive offering for you in the form of a Christmas interview with lovely Penelope Wallace.

If you haven’t read her debut novel, We Do Not Kill Children, we highly recommend that you check it out.

Penelope Wallace Christmas Interview

Your favourite day of Christmas from the song “Twelve Days of Christmas”?

A: The lords a-leaping and ladies dancing would make for a good ceilidh or barn dance.

If you had to be Scrooge or the Grinch, which would you be?

A: I am always Scrooge-ish about Christmas beginning too early.

Tell us about this book. Who did you write this book for?

A: “We Do Not Kill Children” is a not-too-dark story of murder and intrigue, in a pseudo-medieval setting with gender equality. I wrote it for people like me, who find swords and honour enthralling, don’t understand technology, like women to have roles other than love interest, and don’t want to read about rape.

What is your favourite part about preparing for Christmas?

A: Possibly opening cards and guessing who they’re from. Also seeing family.

Is there a central message in the book?

A: There are two: heroism is the daily trudge as well as the dramatic leap; and every criminal justice system needs a Court of Appeal.

What is your favourite Christmas Tradition?

A: Carols, and presents.

What is the most important idea you share in your book that will add value to the reader’s life?

A: Possibly to treat people as individuals, and not stereotype them, eg by gender or appearance.

Who is in charge of cooking Christmas dinner in your house?

A: Definitely not me. Normally my husband.

If you could compare this book with any book out there we might already be familiar with, which book would it be and why?

A: Fold “Brother Cadfael” into “Song of Ice and Fire” and add feminism.

If you could spend Christmas anywhere, where would it be?

A: At home is good.

Why did you start writing?

A: It is the obvious way to preserve and develop the strange images and story-lines in my head. Maybe.

Do your characters celebrate Christmas?

A: They certainly do, and you can watch them doing it in the epilogue of “We Do Not Kill Children”.

Will it be a White Christmas?

A: Probably not.

What is your favourite Christmas song?

A: “God rest ye merry” and “Hark the herald angels sing” are excellent carols. If you mean secular song… how about “There’s only one more sleep till Christmas”?

When do you decorate your tree?

A: As late as possible, before Christmas Eve.

Which movie do you watch every Christmas?

A: The classic “Muppet Christmas Carol” (see above under “Song”) but “Love Actually” is also frequently watched.

Do you have a favourite book that you always read over the festive period?

A: No, but I sometimes read Milton’s “Ode on the Morning of Christ’s Nativity”.

We Do Not Kill Children

front“We do not kill children; we do not commit rape; we do not take pleasure in torment.”

Dorac Kingsbrother was one of the King’s Thirty in the kingdom of Marod. That was before he was found guilty of the murder of Lord Gahran’s three children. Though Gahran was a traitor, his children were innocent. The code of the King’s Thirty leaves no room for such a barbaric act, and for this heinous crime Dorac faces a life in exile.

The shame of such a sentence is something that Dorac can’t brook, and so he sets off on a journey to the Old Stones, the place where those that seek death meet their end. Followed by Gormad, a child in search of adventure, Dorac is not alone on his final journey.

But not everyone believes that Dorac is guilty. Gemara Kingsister, head of the Six, investigates the murder of Gahran’s children; though there is more at stake than the life of a lone warrior in this, the first of the Tales from Ragaris.

Sign up to our mailing list to get the latest news, releases and offers from Mightier Then the Sword UK.

Well for 5th Day of Christmas we are sticking with the fantasy genre, but we are switching authors to Penelope Wallace and an extract from her debut novel, We Do Not Kill Children.

We Do Not Kill Children – An extract

Dorac had always hated being stared at.  He stood, flanked by guards, in the centre of the White Hall in Stonehill Castle.  Around three sides crammed men, women and children.  Most though not all he knew, and every eye was fixed on him.

Fifteen years ago, he had sworn his oath to King Arrion’s mother in this hall.  Since then, he had received orders here, and delivered reports, and greeted new brothers and sisters.  It was the centre of the life of the King’s Thirty.

The long whitewashed walls glared in on him.

Before him on the left was a table with the holy gospel, on which the witnesses swore.  The priest, a short scowling woman, stood by, and the King’s Questioner, Lady Kara.  On the right, another table with that cloak, his cloak, stiff with blood.  The witnesses sat behind.  Cremdar looked troubled, Arvill looked distraught, and Braf looked like nothing.

The eyes burned into him, and raised sweat.

He answered what turned out to be the last question, and was told to step forward and take the oath.  His right hand on the open book, hearing himself stumble over the words, he swore that the evidence he had given was true.  He knew that no one believed him.

The eyes shifted away, and he was cold.  Everyone looked – Dorac looked – at the man sitting on the dais at the north end.  King Arrion, his lord for nine years.  His lord, his friend, his brother.  Everyone else had been staring at him because they believed him guilty.  The King looked away for the same reason.

“Your Grace, do you wish to retire to consider?” asked Lady Kara.

“No.  But he may sit down.”  So someone brought him a stool, but he ignored it.  He waited.  Fought the knowledge of doom coming.  All around the walls, a hiss of talk.   Dorac could not hear words.  He could guess.

(“He murdered three children, and thought the King would approve.  One of the Thirty!  Why is it taking so long?  What is there to decide?”)

The King stood up.  Silence beyond imagining.

“Dorac Kingsbrother, I find you guilty of the murders of Ilda aged twelve years, Gascor aged nine years, and Filana aged five years.”

It still seemed impossible.

Hands on his shoulders, pushing him to his knees.  Blood pounded behind his face.  Possible and actual.  At least he would soon be dead.

“You have served my mother and me and this land with great loyalty for many years.  I do not doubt that you thought what you did was for the best.  Words were spoken at Council that may have helped you to believe this.  But whatever your motives, it was an abominable act.

“From this day, and forever, you are exiled from this land, and from the fellowship of the Thirty.   If you are still within the realm one week from today, or if you ever return without the King’s word, your life is forfeit.

“I take back your companionship, I take back your land and your gold to comfort the bereaved, I take back your horse and your armour.”  He paused.  “Your sword you may retain.  Go from here, make a better life, and may God forgive you.”

We Do Not Kill Children

front“We do not kill children; we do not commit rape; we do not take pleasure in torment.”

Dorac Kingsbrother was one of the King’s Thirty in the kingdom of Marod. That was before he was found guilty of the murder of Lord Gahran’s three children. Though Gahran was a traitor, his children were innocent. The code of the King’s Thirty leaves no room for such a barbaric act, and for this heinous crime Dorac faces a life in exile.

The shame of such a sentence is something that Dorac can’t brook, and so he sets off on a journey to the Old Stones, the place where those that seek death meet their end. Followed by Gormad, a child in search of adventure, Dorac is not alone on his final journey.

But not everyone believes that Dorac is guilty. Gemara Kingsister, head of the Six, investigates the murder of Gahran’s children; though there is more at stake than the life of a lone warrior in this, the first of the Tales from Ragaris.

Sign up to our mailing list to get the latest news, releases and offers from Mightier Then the Sword UK.

For the third day of advent we are taking a trip to the world of Ragaris, created by Penelope Wallace. You may have seen that her debut novel is one of Amazon’s hot releases in the Christian Fantasy genre, so with the run up to the celebration of the birth of Christ, here’s a specially written short story of Christmas straight from the country of Marod.

If you want to find out more about her debt novel, We Do Not Kill Children, you can read more here. This tale takes place a few years before the events of her debut novel and is a wonderful story about the power of giving.

The Queen’s Gift

Every Christmas Eve, the city was darkened save for a single torch carried to the Cathedral by a girl on a donkey – and then candles and lamps and rushlights were lit for everyone to take home.

The light comes again: long ago and far away in Bethlehem, but somehow also here and now in Stonehill.

That year the royal family walked back with their lantern to sleep a little; and next morning, like other parents, the Queen and King gave their children gifts. To Princess Emmia they gave a new bow, and she stroked it lovingly. “Now I can defend myself.”

“Yes, but you must still take soldiers with you.” The Queen didn’t like to think of what had almost happened, six weeks ago.

“I won’t take that soldier, Mother.”

“I am not hearing this again. He saved your life.”

“And he disobeyed my orders, a Princess’s orders. I want him punished. Flog him, as a Christmas gift to me?” She put her head on one side with a childish smile, inappropriate in a woman of nineteen.

“An odd gift, I think. Run along and dress for Mass.”

Later came the Christmas feast in the Great Hall. After Advent plainness, the mere smell of meat – heavy, warm, almost solid – might have filled stomachs. The Hall was full of noise, and men and women in bright gowns and merry mood.

On the dais Queen Darisha sat with her family (husband, two sons, daughter, sister and brother-in-law) and selected guests. And when her people could spare a glance from the food, they looked up, and they seemed reassured.

She was fifty-two years old, and had reigned for eighteen years. Her face was round and motherly, so that royal dignity was always an effort, but her eyes, she hoped, were still sharp. On this glad day she wore a purple gown trimmed at the bodice with foreign lace, and at the sleeves with ermine, and on her piled –up grey-streaked hair she wore the crown of Marod, gold and pearl and a single sapphire.

Members of the Queen’s Thirty stood around the walls. The most beloved of all her servants, sworn to defend her with their lives.

Those at the High Table ate and drank and talked, and were careful always to look happy; and after a steady hour and a half the songs had been sung, the bones picked, and the plates emptied. Tables were pulled back to clear the centre of the Hall… and all looked up together, expectant like baby birds, with open beaks.

It was time for the Queen to do what Queens must: reward those who have proved loyal, bribe those who may need persuasion. The Christmas Giving.

She stood, and the herald called names, and happy people knelt to receive lands forfeited by criminals, or other gifts found or made. There was cheering.

The afternoon was fading, and the shutters were fastened. Light from the torches flickered, dancing on the familiar faces, changing them.

Finally. Her feet were aching. “Dorac, son of Araf, approach.”

Now, Emmia. Listen.

The young soldier had to be pushed towards the dais, stumbling a little. He was clean, but his dull jacket and hose were patched, and his hair tied back with string. A confused and unbeautiful face.

The Queen said, “Forty nights ago, a woman of this Court was set upon by scoundrels intending robbery, or perhaps rape and murder. You and another fought them off, killed or captured them. That deserves praise, and praise has been given. Then you were ordered to kill your prisoners, and you refused, because you said trial should come before punishment.”

Now he was looking very nervous.

“Kneel.

“I don’t know what happens elsewhere, but in this kingdom even the great should keep the law, and even the lowly may tell them so. Take this, Dorac, with my gratitude.”

And he looked up at her. She saw his face, his life, change. She almost wept.

The gift was a sword – good, but not extraordinary. She trusted it would serve him well. He took it as if he’d never seen one before, and had to be nudged by the Steward to get up, and bow, and walk away.

“Do you know, mother,” said the Princess afterwards, “he looked as if he’d never had a Christmas gift from anyone before.”

“Maybe he hadn’t.”

The Queen thought of her dear friends, her Queen’s Thirty. They would all be willing to die for her.

But Dorac, she thought, would feel that was too great a privilege.

We Do Not Kill Children

front“We do not kill children; we do not commit rape; we do not take pleasure in torment.”

Dorac Kingsbrother was one of the King’s Thirty in the kingdom of Marod. That was before he was found guilty of the murder of Lord Gahran’s three children. Though Gahran was a traitor, his children were innocent. The code of the King’s Thirty leaves no room for such a barbaric act, and for this heinous crime Dorac faces a life in exile.

The shame of such a sentence is something that Dorac can’t brook, and so he sets off on a journey to the Old Stones, the place where those that seek death meet their end. Followed by Gormad, a child in search of adventure, Dorac is not alone on his final journey.

But not everyone believes that Dorac is guilty. Gemara Kingsister, head of the Six, investigates the murder of Gahran’s children; though there is more at stake than the life of a lone warrior in this, the first of the Tales from Ragaris.

Sign up to our mailing list to get the latest news, releases and offers from Mightier Then the Sword UK.