The Ultimate Fantasy Sampler Pack: Sword and Sorcery Adventures: Free Books, #1

By Craig Halloran

Searching for a new fantasy series? Don't know where to start? How about taking a look at this spectactular package? 

Since 2009, USA Today and #1 International bestselling epic fantasy author, Craig Halloran, has published 100-plus books and he keeps churning the out. Now you can get a taste of each of his bestselling series in one single volume. Check it these complete fantasy shorts! Almost 40-thousand words of Action-Packed Fantasy Adventure, ranging from Teen and Young adult, to old school sword and sorcery and a crazy sci-fi portal fantasy tale unlike anything you've read before!

Book 1: Dragon Wars Prequel (7 chapters, 7000 words) - The adventure begins here with two gifted runaways on a bizarre journey of magical heroics that is 20-books long and over 1 million words of reading. 

Book 2: The Darkslayer: Brutal Beginnings (9 chapters, 9000 words) - This is where it all began in 2009, and grew into an epic old school sword and sorcery adventure, 16-books long and over 1.2 million words. If you are a fan of gritty battles, and Conan the Barbarian action, shady thieves, journeys to the dark corners of the world, and rundown taverns, not to mention a world dominating evil menace, you''ll find your happy place here. 

Book 3: The Henchmen Chronicles Backstory (12 chapters, 12,000 words) - Portal Fantasy with a twist like none you've read before, where an ordinary beer truck driver become the savior of a brutal medieval fantasy world. 5-Books, 400,000 words, complete, but with more to come. 

Book 4: The Quest for the Thunderstones (9 chapters, 9000 words) - This is the intro to my bestselling series overall, dragon galore, with a fantastic warrior named Nath Dragon, a dragon born a man, destined to be a dragon. 3 complete series, 1.2 million words. And other tales to come. 

NOTE: These are only the samples and prequels for the actual series, each of the sample books contained in this ebook is about 7 to 12 chapters long, and an intro to the actual series which are vastly longer. 
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Craig Halloran
• Release date: Oct 9, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201067892

Book preview

1. Dragon Wars

1

Dark Mountain

Are you two donkey skulls finished digging that pit? Dirklen asked. He was a well-knit youth of fifteen seasons, handsome, with his wavy blond hair parted in the middle. He wore black leather armor and kept his hand on the handle of a sheathed short sword. I want it head deep, and not your head, Dindae. You’re a runt. I want it deeper than Festive’s melon head. That will teach you to cross me again. Keep digging!

With sweat dripping off the tip of his elven nose, Dindae dug his shovel into the hard dirt. His back burned as he heaved a shovelful on Dirklen’s boots. Oh, excuse me, he said with a smirk.

Dirklen’s pale features turned red. He kicked dirt into the hole. Don’t you treat me like I’m a fool.

Dindae swiped his jet-black hair away from his eye and quickly replied, I didn’t mention anything about you being a fool. You did.

Festive—a stripling, no more than twelve seasons of age—half grunted and half chuckled.

Oh, you two are quite the pair. One with a sharp tongue and the other with a dull mind. Dirklen squatted down along the rim of the small pit. He gestured for Festive’s shovel. Hand it over. He glowered at Festive with a deep hatred. One day you’re going to die, Festive. I hope I’m there to see it. I hope I see both of you worms die.

Festive batted his sweaty tawny locks from his face and handed the shovel up to Dirklen.

Using the flat of the shovel, Dirklen smacked the two striplings square on the noggin.

Clonk. Clonk.

Dindae winced and glared up at Dirklen with piercing gray eyes. Don’t ever do that again.

Or what, little elf? Are you going to try to throttle me again? Remember the last time? I dislocated your arm, and you cried like a halfling.

No, I didn’t!

Dirklen let out a huff. You did. He jammed the shovel into the pile of dirt and threw shovelfuls of dirt onto Dindae and Festive. He flung the shovel back into the pit. I’ll be back, and when I do, this better be done, or the two of you will be scooping dragon dung until tomorrow.

Why don’t we start now? Dindae spun his shovel. Open wide, and I’ll shovel out enough dung to fill this hole.

Dirklen’s jaw tightened, and his eyes blazed. I’m going to kill you. He started to draw his sword.

Dirklen! What are you doing? Put that away, and come on. Father is calling.

Dirklen jammed his sword back into his scabbard and twisted his head around.

Dindae rose up on his tiptoes. Dirklen’s twin sister, Magnolia, approached. Dressed the same from head to toe, she was different than her overly intense brother. Her wavy blond hair was draped over her shoulders, and she had the curious stare of a cat.

Magnolia waved with her fingers. Hello, Dindae and Festive. Are you enjoying yourselves?

It’s delightful, Dindae said as he locked eyes with Magnolia. She always proved to be unflappable. Care to join us?

No, it looks like you’re handling it quite well, she quipped.

Thank you, Festive awkwardly said as he stared at Magnolia with big eyes.

Quit talking to my sister, donkey skull! Dirklen kicked dirt in Festive’s face. Finish the pit, or I’ll finish you both. He grabbed his sister by the wrist and hauled her away. She jerked her hand away and shoved him.

Dindae sank down with his back against the pit. Are they gone?

Festive nodded.

Dusting the dirt off his grubby clothing, he said, Thank you? I can’ t believe you said thank you to her of all people.

Festive shrugged his heavy shoulders. For a stripling, he was built like a block of wood. They don’t bother me so much.

No, of course not, nothing bothers you. As for me, I can’t stand them. He bounced his shovel handle back and forth between his hands. That’s why we’re leaving Dark Mountain tonight.

Tonight?

Yes, I told you that it was coming, and tonight is the perfect time with the initiation ceremony of the Riskers. No one will miss us.

Festive swallowed the lump in his throat. I know you hate it here, but we don’t have anywhere else to go, and this is the only home that I know. He dropped his gaze. And we’ll miss the ripening.

The ripening? Honestly, Festive, we’ve talked about this, a bit discreetly, but we’ve talked. The ripening is three more years of dealing with the likes of Dirklen and his brood of young Riskers. You know how they treat us. Is that what you want to become? Like them? Search your heart. It’s not right, I tell you.

I know, Festive said under his breath.

Dindae laid a hand on Festive’s shoulder. You trust me, don’t you?

Festive nodded. You’re the only one that I do trust. You’re my brother, well, even though you are an elf and I’m a human, he said with a glum look.

Let’s rectify the situation, then. Dindae pulled out a small knife from his belt.

What are you going to do with that?

Dindae cut the palm of his hand and offered Festive the knife. Now you.

Festive gave him a curious look for a moment, then his light eyes brightened. I remember seeing this at the Risker ceremony. The dragon riders do it.

Aye.

Festive cut the meaty palm of his hand. Now what?

Dindae locked his bloody palm with Festive’s. I’ll start. You repeat. He looked his friend dead in the eye. I so swear to stand by your side, your blood brother, loyal and true, forever and ever.

I so swear to stand by your side, your blood brother, loyal and true, forever and ever. Festive sounded relieved when he said, So we’re brothers now?

Dindae nodded. Yes. And we should have done this a long time ago.

Festive gave him a back-breaking embrace.

Easy. I’m not as sturdy as you.

Oh, sorry. Festive let go of him and dusted him off. I’m ready. He picked up his shovel and started digging with vigor. I wonder what the rest of the world will look like.

I’m sure it will look much better than this. Dindae eyed the sky. The skies were gray and overcast. The outdoor breeze was bitter, and they were surrounded by black rock mountains in all directions. He woke up every day, for as long as he could remember, with a sinking feeling in his stomach. He couldn’t take another day of it. It has to be.

2

Dirklen had a fit when he returned and the pit wasn’t dug to his specifications. As promised, the young Risker assigned the blood brothers to the dragon kennels to clean out their lairs.

With their shovels resting on their shoulders, Dindae and Festive strode down a wide road paved with stone blocks that led into the dragon kennels. The kennels burrowed deep into the black rock of the mountain, hundreds of feet down at a steep incline. The brothers walked alone in the torchlight that flickered on the massive walls of the cheerless environment that stank of brimstone, dragons’ scales, and dung.

Behind them, a dragon with a huge body that almost filled the tunnel slunk their way. It had a head the size of a great boulder and horns as long as a man. Its scales were dark, but splashes of green covered the strong, rugged hide much like terrapin skin.

Dindae pressed against the wall and froze. They’d been working in the dragon kennels for most of their lives in a process called bonding. They took care of the revered dragons by feeding them and cleaning out their lairs.

The dragon moved with grace and majesty as it passed. It was a grand dragon, one of the biggest, and it could swallow a man whole in the blink of an eye. It stopped and turned its head to look at the brothers like they were morsels. Its long serpentine tongue flicked out and licked across its sharp pearl-white teeth. A hot snort from its nostrils steamed up the brothers’ hair and dirty clothing. It moved deeper into the channel.

Come on. We need to close him in before he gets feisty again, Dindae said as he followed the dragon.

The tunnel bottomed out in a huge cavern that was hundreds of yards long, over one hundred feet high, and just as wide. It was a monumental place with wide ledges stacked up like narrow roads that sat in front of the dragons’ lairs. The lairs were an organized network of caves with openings a variety of sizes, from small to very large. On the bottom level, beside the center roadway, the grand dragon that had passed them poked his head inside his lair and squeezed the rest of his big body through the opening.

Looks like Fredrake is nestled in, Dindae said as he scanned their surroundings.

Several dragons climbed the tiers, moving from lair to lair. Sometimes they shared a cave. The ones crawling about were middling dragons that weren’t nearly as big as the grands but noticeably bigger than a horse. They made up the bulk of the dragons, as the grand dragons were the rarest of the breeds. Let’s get to work. Grab the wagon and hay.

Why do I always have to grab the wagon and hay? Festive asked.

Because you’re bigger and much stronger. You know me, I need to save my strength for shoveling. He hopped into the back of a small hay-filled wagon and lay back with his fingers locked behind his head. Move along now.

With a grunt, Festive stuffed his shovel into the wagon and started pulling it by the handle. His thick thighs bulged with muscle as he pulled the wagon up the gentle incline. Where are we starting?

At the end, where we always do. We’ll work our way back.

I thought we were planning to escape, Festive said.

Hush, and keep your voice down, Dindae warned. Zooks, I told you the plan. Go where I say, and do as I say. Don’t think. Let me do that, and I’ll handle the rest.

The wagon stopped.

Dindae sat up. What are you—Commander Slaught! Dindae jumped out of