Welcome To Dark Dale: Inklet, #31

By Liana Brooks

No one survives Dark Dale. But when the demons summon, she goes—with her swords, and daggers, and iron-capped boots. 

The compromise to her independence chafes. But the pay? Worth it. 

And they better pay. Or she'll make them rue the day they called her. 

For readers who are practical, well-armed, and ready for any challenge—or who wish they were. 

1500 words / swords and sorcery

• Language: English
• Publisher: Inkprint Press
• Release date: Apr 1, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393290698

Liana Brooks

Liana Brooks once read the book GOOD OMENS by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett and noted that both their biographies invited readers to send money (or banana daiquiris). That seems to have worked well for them. Liana prefers strawberry daiquiris (virgin!) and will never say no to large amounts of cash in unmarked bills. Her books are sweet and humorous with just enough edge to keep you reading past your bedtime. Liana was born in San Diego and in addition to there has lived in Illinois, Colorado, Florida, Texas, Alabama, Georgia, South Carolina, and Kansas. We'd like to tell you where she is right now, but last we checked she was researching books on both Alaska and Africa. Not only are the bookstore algorithms breaking trying to track this lady, but we can't tell you where to mail that daiquiri. Your best bet is to try Twitter where you can often find @LianaBrooks talking about her four kids, her giant dog, and plans for world domination.

Book preview

Welcome To Dark Dale

INKLET #31

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Liana Brooks

www.InkprintPress.com

Welcome To Dark Dale

The sign was broken. fragments lay on the ground, splintered and splattered with blood. What remained of the rotting stump in the ground was charred and gnawed on; teethed on, I corrected myself. There was still a tooth sticking out of the wood.

Marzrels went through several sets of teeth as babies—larvae? They were carnivorous worms and I’d never stopped to ask one what it called its young. Dinner maybe. But probably breakfast. Just another joy of Dark Dale.

A shadow caught my eye: a small, yellow scorpion no bigger than my thumb, darting away. I stepped on it.

Those I occasionally called friends laughed at my odd footwear. They told me on numerous drunken occasions that I’d do better to leave the iron out of my boots and run faster. As I lifted my