The Edge of Valhalla: A Spin-Off Tale featuring Sir Hestbone, the Dwarves’ Captain of War

By Ana Lee Kennedy

When a whisp of a young woman is cursed by Lochi to wield a huge sword that strives to steal her soul, Devorah suffers from its bloodlust and is untamable by any man — until she meets Sir Hestbone.

Devorah is the youngest and only female child with nine brothers. She’s tired of being their servant and told what she can and cannot do. Little does her village and family know that she protects them from the Ogres of Jewel Mountain, but once her secret is out, both Man and Ogre fear her.

However, Sir Hestbone, the Dwarves Captain of War, has a different perspective on her lust for spilled blood and life. And he is more than willing to show her the power of sex and love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Riverdale Avenue Books
• Release date: May 20, 2015
• ISBN: 9781626011915

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Edge of Valhalla© 2015 by Ana Lee Kennedy

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Cover by Insatiable Fantasy Designs Inc.

Digital ISBN 9781626011915

First Edition May 2015

Chapter One

Night descended on the eastern face of Jewel Mountain. The shadows deepened across the steep inclines, crags, and boulders. With only the bloody smear of the sunset tinting the sky behind it, the mountain transformed into a stark silhouette above Devorah. The need to spill blood coursed through her veins. It didn’t yet control her, but it would soon. If Devorah succumbed to the bloodlust then she’d annihilate the Ogres so they didn’t threaten her people or her village anymore.

She glanced skyward. The first glimmer of stars sparkled in Valhalla’s canopy. It wouldn’t be long before she could tiptoe into the new Ogre community and begin slaying the filthy creatures. Devorah waited until their cooking fires winked in the darkness. Time passed slowly as her need to spill blood grew more powerful. Finally, when the last traces of daylight waned, she dropped her cloak to the ground, scooped up a handful of ogre dung she’d found near her hiding place, and smeared it over her clothes to mask her scent. She could easily kill the monsters if she took them by surprise, but if their keen noses sniffed her out and several of them ambushed her, she’d certainly end up above a spit as one of the females ladled mead over her body. Human meat was the Ogres’ favorite meal.

On the ground lay a large suede sheath. It took three yanks, but Devorah finally unsheathed a broadsword so large a full-grown man would have difficulty wielding it, let alone a young woman who stood only ten hands high. She paused and contemplated the big weapon as she dragged it through the dirt. Its tip glinted dully in the fading light. It was unfortunate she came from a long line of small-statured, delicate-boned women, but Lochi’s twisted sense of humor would forever be her true curse.

Devorah had no idea why Lochi would find it necessary to curse her unless it was solely for his amusement. If there was a deeper meaning, something with basis, she wished she had a