Welcome to the book promotion for Babs Morton (B.A.Morton). Babs won the Paragraphs Of Power "Halloween Special" and her marvelous new novel "Wildewood - Revenge" is featured below. A short excerpt is included for your reading enjoyment.
Born
in the North East of England, B.A.Morton writes crime fiction and
historical fantasy all with a smidgeon of romance thrown in.
After
a twenty year civil service career, she and her family escaped the rat
race and relocated to the remote beauty of the Northumberland National
Park. She now works part time in the village GP surgery and lives in a
cottage built on the remains of a medieval crypt – the inspiration for a
medieval fantasy trilogy.
Wildewood – Revenge
B.A.MORTON
\\Book One in The Wildewood Chronicles
A
knight. A witch. A secret.
When Grace, a twenty first century heroine, is accidently transported through a time portal into the clutches of an impoverished medieval knight with one eye on her ransom, we are treated to a brilliant evocation of medieval England which heaves with corruption and intrigue.
The remote and beautiful wilderness of ancient Northumberland rings out with the sound of clashing swords, the hiss of arrows, thundering hooves and the chink of coin bags changing hands in shady deals.
It is all there: a spirited and sensual romance, an action-packed adventure story, hidden treasure, revengeful and devious barons and corpulent and corrupt clergy.
Beset on all sides by danger and deception, with only their wits and a small band of loyal followers to assist them, Grace and Miles of Wildewood find their lives inexplicably entwined as they battle for justice, honour and love.
When Grace, a twenty first century heroine, is accidently transported through a time portal into the clutches of an impoverished medieval knight with one eye on her ransom, we are treated to a brilliant evocation of medieval England which heaves with corruption and intrigue.
The remote and beautiful wilderness of ancient Northumberland rings out with the sound of clashing swords, the hiss of arrows, thundering hooves and the chink of coin bags changing hands in shady deals.
It is all there: a spirited and sensual romance, an action-packed adventure story, hidden treasure, revengeful and devious barons and corpulent and corrupt clergy.
Beset on all sides by danger and deception, with only their wits and a small band of loyal followers to assist them, Grace and Miles of Wildewood find their lives inexplicably entwined as they battle for justice, honour and love.
Excerpt from Chapter Two:
Edmund is one of
my favourite characters and from an inglorious beginning, his role is pivotal,
as perhaps Grace’s most loyal protector, after Miles. Readers might fall in love with Miles, but
they will cheer until they are hoarse for Edmund. As one Amazon reviewer,
declared “Yay, Edmund!”
So, in this
excerpt we are introduced to...Edmund.
The boy
came silently. A wraithlike shadow slipping unseen between trees cloaked in
frost. He stooped as hoary tendrils threatened to entwine him in their icy
embrace. A slender bow held tightly in one hand, while the other gripped a
brindle terrier by the rough hair at its scruff. The dog remained alert. Ears
pricked, its tail twitched with anticipation; the rasp of its breath the only
sound to be heard in the silence of the winter forest. The boy flicked a
nervous glance around the tangle of waterlogged tree roots and eerie, stagnant
pools. Afraid to proceed and unwilling to retreat, he rose slowly to his full
height and peered at the body.
Slumped
where it had fallen, it lay half submerged in the icy depth. One pale frozen
hand outstretched; Damp hair, obscuring the face. His heart lurched within its
fragile casing, at the reality of what had transpired. Summoning what little
courage remained he made a hurried sign of the cross and backed carefully away.
Small
and undernourished, with ragged, dark hair and clothes the colour of the
forest, it was little wonder he’d remained unseen long enough to carry out such
a heinous act. He paused, drawing on the strength of his natural camouflage and
silently chanted the charms of protection he’d learned at the breast. The beat
of his heart stilled and he stepped back through the thorny barrier of frozen
bramble runners and drew close again.
He saw
the blood first, staining the melt water as it seeped from the body, trapped
within the confines of the frigid pool. He watched transfixed, as the slickness
spread and the body slid further beneath the blackness. He felt fear, an overwhelming sense of dread
that welled unbidden from the centre of his being, despite the charms. Reaching
out with a hesitant hand he paused midway and drew back quickly, as if scalded
by some unseen source. The dog whined and the boy cocked his head, alert to
whatever sound distracted it. Then he was up and running, back into the dense
woods from whence he had come.
Light-footed,
he covered the flooded ground easily. He dodged low branches and fallen trees,
with not a single snapped twig to shatter the silence, until, with relief as
keen as a long held breath, he burst into the makeshift camp like a wild thing
freed from a trap, and the phantoms he believed snapped at his heels, were let
loose. The horses strained at their tethers, whinnies of alarm accompanying the
wild kicking at the anticipated threat.
The roosting birds of the forest rose as one, a cacophony of alarmed
pheasants and pigeons squawked and flapped for cover. Their noise reverberated
around the small clearing and
contributed to the overall commotion. The boy tripped, scattering embers from
the smouldering fire, then recovered and steadied himself with an outstretched
hand.
His
stunned companion lurched backwards away from the shower of sparks, spilled the
contents of his cup and muttered a curse beneath his breath, as the hot liquid
seared the back of his hand. He staggered awkwardly to his feet, dropped the
cup in the dirt and stopped the lad’s flight by grasping him firmly by the
shoulders.
“For
pity’s sake, Edmund,” he growled, flicking a wary glance around the camp. “What
in God’s name is wrong with you? You’ll awaken the Devil himself with that
racket.”
“My
lord, I’ve done a terrible thing,” the boy gasped, glancing back over his
shoulder fearfully. He took a ragged breath, his chest heaving with the effort.
“I meant to take a deer, but I have taken a boy! I fear I’ve killed him.”
Here are the links to
Amazon (Just in case you’re tempted)
The Wildewood Chronicles F
B page (Likes and Comments most welcome. Drop by and say hi.)
Wildewood Chronicles Book
Trailer (Courtesy of the very talented, Team Jacoba)
To my web site:
Babs will be my guest blogger later in the month. Dates to be advised.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Please leave a comment/review on any of the stories/poems contributed.