Originally posted by Renee Scattergood:
My friend, Joshua Robertson, has recently released the third book in his Kaelander Series, Maharia, so I wanted to help him spread the word. I'm currently reading the first book, Melkorka, and so far it's amazing. I can't wait to get to the other two books. There is an excerpt below, but first...
Joshua Robertson is a bestselling author in dark fantasy. Robertson is a Licensed Master Social Worker, who received his degree from Wichita State University. He has worked with children and families for the past fifteen years in a variety of unique venues: a residential behavior school, a psychiatric treatment facility, and the child welfare system. He has functioned as a supervisor, an educator, a behavior specialist, and a therapist during his career. Mr. Robertson has presented trainings for hundreds of professionals and military personnel on topics that include child abuse and neglect, human trafficking, strengthening the parent and child relationships, and the neurobiological impact of trauma.
You may recognize him as the dude whose dragons were said to destroy George R.R. Martin's and Christopher Paolini's dragons in a very biased Twitter poll. His first novel, Melkorka, was released in 2015, and he has been writing fantasy fiction like clockwork ever since. Known most for his Thrice Nine Legends Saga, Robertson enjoys an ever-expanding and extremely loyal following of readers.
He currently lives in North Carolina with his better half and his horde of goblins.
You can connect with him here:
About the Book
In Valor There Is Hope!
Branimir has remained hidden from the enemy, withholding the cursed dagger from their erroneous hands. When a stranger arrives, and offers the chance to end his never-ending battle, Branimir sets off for the City of the Gods for answers. Now, hoping his faith has not been misplaced, Branimir undergoes his darkest adventure yet. He can only trust that he has the courage to survive the truth.
Get it today on Amazon!
Melkorka, Book 1 of the series, is currently available for 99 cents!
Better yet, you can now get all three books
for the low price of $5.99!
Keep reading for an excerpt:
Again, the bearded Kadari and Beryl tightened their hold on his arms.
With a flash in her eye, Kveta pulled aside Branimir’s cloak and pulled the dagger from the belt. Kaelandur stayed hanging from its sheathe around his waist. She barely looked at the copper blade, twisting the iron dagger in her hand. The sharpness of the weapon gleamed in the firelight.
Her free hand grabbed his shoulder roughly, balancing her weight to keep pressure off her bandaged leg. “Should I wedge this in your leg, your eye, or your dear, little bits?”
Beryl’s blithe snigger robbed the air from Branimir’s lungs. “Why choose only one?”
Disbelief and horror seized Bran, his timorous lip quaking with realization. He twisted against the Kadari holding him, hardly budging.
He dared to break from Kveta’s ghastly expression to look at Falmagon. The twisted smile under the Patrician’s mustache screamed of gratification. After Harrowhal, he realized how far gone Falmagon truly was. He once thought Falmagon, at least, considered himself decent, but nothing was left of the Highborn Long-Walker.
Nothing could have readied Branimir for the shockwave of pain riddling through his body as Kveta speared him with the dagger. He reacted at instinct, thrashing violently against the two Kadari holding him hostage, his wail causing the very flames of the distant fire to waft. He could not pinpoint where she struck him at first, only knowing the pain surged from beneath his belly. The heat of the immediate wound was only diluted by the warmth of the thick blood flowing down his slender leg.
He moaned. Tears descended from his cheeks with heaved sniffles, snorting his slick snot back into his nose and off his upper lip.
Kveta twisted the blade, grating the sharp edge against his femur, isolating the dagger’s location. Branimir blubbered softly, catching the saliva on the edge of his tongue, hatefully glaring at the Kadari woman.
He gagged in effort to keep his throat from closing, gasping for oxygen. He needed to breathe. He had to shake away the abysmal pain. Inhaling the metallic odor of his own blood, Branimir gazed to Falmagon and exhaled the bitter thoughts flooding his mind. “I will kill you! I swear it! Marheena will leave you broken and deformed!”