A Dance of Cloaks - By Dalglish, David Page 0,153

of the Connington estate. The castle guards patrolled by every so often, but soon they’d switch shifts and he’d have his chance.

He backed away from the gate a bit, slinking further into the shadows. As he did he felt something sharp poke against his back.

“A Spider?” he heard a boy’s voice ask.

“Serpent,” the man said, his hand slowly dropping to his dagger.

“They are all one and the same.”

The man whirled but not fast enough. The dagger flew from his hand. Something sharp pierced his belly. As the pain doubled him over, pain slashed his face. Through the blood in his eyes, he saw a blurry image of a young boy standing before him, his face fully covered by a thin cloth of gray. Quiet, unmoving, the boy watched him die, then vanished into the night.

A Note from the Author:

Winter is coming.

Those words, and the book that contained them, changed everything I knew about writing a fantasy book. Reading A Game of Thrones by George R. R. Martin was an incredible, yet humbling, experience. I doubt I will ever write something equal to the scope of his first two chapters, let alone his entire series. But knowing I may never do so doesn’t remove my desire to at least try. After all, so many of us are dancing in Tolkien’s shadow, so why not try for something a little modern, a little bloodier, and a little different?

I wrote this as a standalone novel, though fans of my Half-Orc Series will recognize faces here or there. The most obvious is Haern. My father has been a faithful supporter of my writing and has helped immensely in calling me out when I do something stupid (which is often). After finishing the second book, Cost of Betrayal, he said that of all my characters, he thought Haern the Watcher had the most potential for a separate book. At first, I dismissed him. What story for him did I have to tell?

Turns out, a damn good one. I reread the painfully brief history I gave for him, and even in that, I saw potential. Here was my chance to write a story, one without elves and orcs and spells so powerful they’d feel right at home in a Japanese anime. I could focus on humans, the low and the desperate. I could tell of a clash between the rich and the poor, and from within it, a boy rescued from darkness. Aaron Felhorn’s salvation from the ways of Karak and his father are just as important as Thren’s monumental failure at the Kensgold.

Since I know I will receive emails asking, I’ll go ahead and answer right now: yes, there will be a sequel, tentatively titled A Dance of Blades. No, I do not know when. I must turn my focus back to my half-orcs for now, but within the year, I will return. Haern, while saved from Thren, is still not saved from himself. The war between the thief guilds and the Trifect is not over. Plenty of blood still waits to be shed.

But enough rambling. Thank you Derek, for your wonderful edits. This book wouldn’t be half as good without you. Thanks to my father, for the inspiration. And most importantly, I thank you, reader, for purchasing my work, and humbly ask for a response of any kind, through email ([email protected]), or reviews, or rankings at wherever you might have stumbled upon my little story. I hope you weren’t too confused, and that I gave you plenty of hours lost in my world. Time is precious, dear reader, and I’m honored that you spent it with me.

David Dalglish

August 6, 2010

Flaming Dove

by

Daniel Arenson

If you enjoyed A Dance of Cloaks, you'll enjoy Daniel Arenson's dark fantasy novel Flaming Dove.

Outcast from Hell. Banished from Heaven. Lost on Earth.

The battle of Armageddon was finally fought... and ended with no clear victor. Upon the mountain, the armies of Hell and Heaven beat each other into a bloody, uneasy standstill, leaving the Earth in ruins. Armageddon should have ended with Heaven winning, ushering in an era of peace. That's what the prophecies said. Instead, the two armies—one of angels, one of demons—hunker down in the scorched planet, lick their wounds, and gear up for a prolonged war with no end in sight.

In this chaos of warring armies and ruined landscapes, Laila doesn't want to take sides. Her mother was an angel, her father a demon; she is outcast from both camps. And yet both armies need her, for with her