Fell Lords Series

Before the Blood Ocean and the Fall that came after, the Harrower Knights, the Deathwings, ruled the sky. Sent on a grave mission in the midst of a desperate battle, one Knight will find her moment. With the fate of her legion and a city hanging in the balance will she be able to seize it? In an age of Heroes, how do you rise to the top? You do what no one else can do.  Excerpt  Wings of Harrowers sketched the rough sphere as they desperately fought for their lives. Fought for victory. Demons by the score flew in clots like locusts, smashing into the darting V’s of fire. Sometimes the V’s pulled out, sometimes not. Huge arms of the sooty black stains pulled out of the surface of the battle and arced back into it with crushing force. There was a shadow moving through the sphere. Like a worm in an apple, ripples of fleeing V’s followed wherever it went.  Victory it had to be. If they failed, this army’s next attack would fall on Avalon. That could not be allowed to happen. The other legions were pinned down in another theater or war and the regular army in Avalon was still licking their wounds from their last battle. They could not hold against this force.  Summoning the visor of her armor back up her green eyes disappeared behind an expressionless mask. The plates that formed it slid over her face to form a smooth only slightly curved surface, broken only by the crimson lenses of her eyes. Readouts from the battle appeared at the edges of her vision. Aided by the augmenters on her belt, Lore drew deeply on the Reigh and her hair caught fire. Pulling her bow from one of the tesseract pockets in her belt. Silvered and knife-edged at the ends it had no bowstring until she drew the invisible line to her cheek. The Harrower felt the tug on her mind as the string came into being. A bowstring of the mind, an arrow of will, her first instructor in the wizard bow had said to her.  “Draw.” She commanded over the orator and her wing drew with her. Harrowers needed no command to fight. They had their bows out before she spoke. Concentrating beyond the silvery bow marked with birds she focused her will to destroy. An arrow of crimson light flared into existence between her fingers.  “Release,” She commanded and let go. With it flew all her determination that these things should die and be no more. Ten other arrows of crimson light flew after it. Lore focused harder and her arrow multiplied, becoming two, then three, then four. Before slamming into the back of a clot of flying demons she had made a full dozen. Combined with her wing, more than a hundred arrows tore that clot from their sky. A cloud of ash was all they left behind.  But there were thousands of such clots and destroying one was no great accomplishment. Taking pot shots was not the reason her Fell Lord had sent her wing to breach the surface of the battle. They had a specific mission and it waited for them below. Theirs was the happy task of pulling the worm out of the apple.

Burning Stone, the wizard city of flame, has fallen. Betrayal opened the way for demons to come and rip out its heart. Before the long night is done the demons will make the city theirs. A new Necropolis to plague the world.  Alone and without magic, two wizards born of Burning Stone make their way through the blood-soaked labyrinthine streets and staring corpses. A young girl desperately searching for her mother and a man in black who’s come to bring the city peace. Stalked by unseen evil their time is running. Running out to escape, running out to make the stones Burn. Excerpt Taking off at a run, the Harrower darted down one alleyway then another and another. The route was as clear to him as the way to his family home. While he ran, the demon's presence skittered across his mind as it hunted him. Fractured bodies closing in from every direction. Hopping one last wall, the Harrower landed in the huge back yard of a smith's shop. Tough, stained the glass windows were still green and the flowerbeds bright.  The Harrower took in but ignored the small details barely visible in the light of an orange emergency lantern. Other things demanded his attention. The gemelo demon had followed and now climbed over the garden wall. Six of them appeared from all directions, one perched on the roof of the house behind him. They looked like green and tan badgers the size of bears. Claws like spades extended themselves toward him and their breath smoked as it rasped in bone dry throats. The Harrower could smell the combustible stench across the garden even through his helmet. Whatever that thing had in its gullet he didn't want any part of it. Sheathing his sword at his hip, the Harrower flicked his hand over a panel on the back of his belt. Time to change weapons. A spear came into his hands, appearing from thin air. The black haft of a spear spun out of nowhere as he fell into a defensive stance. The black spearhead moved like quicksilver as formed and reformed its shape with every swing. Sliding down the black shaft it could appear on the butt end as likely as the head.  The Hydra Spear, one of the twelve weapons all Harrowers had to master. A good weapon for fighting enemies coming in from every direction.