About the Book:
 |
| Check out the Book on Amazon |
Eurik & Leraine have escaped the land of the necromancers, but still face a long journey. Eurik is looking for answers about who his parents were and how they ended up adrift at sea. Leraine must carry the news of her teacher’s death back home, yet also has a debt to Eurik for helping her to avenge Irelith.
Together, they’ll have to traverse the Neisham Hills, where lone travelers are snatched in the night and even numbers don’t guarantee safety. And beyond the hills, all along the long Inza Road, the drums of war beat louder and louder.
But the greatest threat may not be goblins, elves, or bandits. It may be the people they’ve chosen to travel with.
Read an Excerpt from The Living Sword 2
Eurik thrust the wooden practice sword forward, but Silver Fang’s switch tapped his inner elbow and the back of his knee before he could react. “You still commit too much,” she told him, standing on his right and scrutinizing his form. “It takes too long to recover when you do it like that. Your enemy only needs one opening to end it. And relying on special abilities to cover for your mistakes is a bad habit. Do it like this.”
He straightened out while Silver Fang demonstrated the thrust again. “Move forward instead, get in close with the enemy. You can use that rock gauntlet of yours to block her weapon, get it out of the way, then your blade slides in.” Her thrust was quick and didn’t cover much distance, but Eurik had to wince at what it would do to a person. “Now you try.”
“Right.” Resuming his stance, he pulled earth from the ground and let it harden around his forearm. Imagining he faced a spearman like the one he’d faced in that Bone Lord’s tower, he batted the spearhead out of the way and closed the distance between them to drive the wooden sword into him.
“Good, do it again.”
Bat, step, thrust. Bat, step, thrust. This had been Silver Fang’s training so far. She taught him swings, blocks, thrusts, slashes, parries, and then had him practice those over and over again. “Would this work against an armored opponent as well?”
“Depends upon the armor and the blade. Misthell will get through most types of armor, but plate, especially when it is enchanted, that will stop even a living sword. However, this move is best for unarmored enemies. If they have protection, you should go around it.”
“I, for one, think that’s a great suggestion,” Misthell said.
“You do not mind getting covered in blood?” Silver Fang’s tone of surprise sounded fake.
“If it keeps the sharpening stone away, I’m for it. Blood comes off, but I can’t regrow my edge.”
There was a hint of a smile on Silver Fang’s lips and a glint of silver. “How about your . . . awesomeness?”
“Oh, that can only grow.”
She and Eurik shared a grin.
“That is enough. Let’s try something else, something that will reassure Misthell. A low swing to take out an opponent’s legs, those are rarely armored. You—”
Captain Slyvair’s deep voice interrupted her. “How about something more useful, like practice? I have yet to see him face an opponent that’s not in his head.”
Eurik regarded the orc. “Hanser wasn’t in my head.”
“I meant with a sword in your hand.” Slyvair walked over to them. His skin was dark green, except where he’d been burned. There, it was a far lighter green. He glanced at Silver Fang. “Is this how you were trained?”
“It was.”
“And how young were you? How many years did your teacher spend honing your skills?”
“I was eight when mother retained Irelith. She had just earned her name.”
About the Author:
 |
| Author's Amazon Page |
I grew up on a farm in the Netherlands and discovered history and fantasy at a young age, I even studied the former at university. Now I try to combine my passion for both in my writing. I try to create worlds that are both rich and strange, populated with people. Whatever shape, size, or worldview they may have.
