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Exiled — Matthew J. Costello
Description:
EXILED!
Counseled by an evil sorceror, King Talwe has allowed Ar to fall into a fatal decadence. He has exiled his faithful lieutenant Paralan, and banished his concubine who is bearing his child to the barbaric outpost of Pleir.
Now, years later, the young herdsman Falon sets out on a mysterious mission to the border city of Tizare, accompanied by a would-be wizard and half-wild child.
Their quest is all that stands between Ar and an eternal nightmare of tyranny.
Den of Thieves!
Falon slid next to the bandit. His precious cape was draped loosely over the thief's shoulders. He swiped at the cape, catching it in his claws. Then he snatched up the bandit's sword.
“Now!” he yelled at Caissir. The wizard skidded on some spilled wine, and Falon had to jerk him to his feet. The cape trailed behind him, a brilliant flag drawing the unwanted attention of whole tables of bandits. Some of them started stumbling to their feet.
“Move, Caissir! Get your fat mrem tail moving!”
Falon turned to look over his shoulder. A blade was flying at him, a long, heavy blade thrown with the deadly expertise of a practiced brigand. No more than an arm's length away, and aimed perfectly at the center of his chest ...
EXILED!
Counseled by an evil sorceror, King Talwe has allowed Ar to fall into a fatal decadence. He has exiled his faithful lieutenant Paralan, and banished his concubine who is bearing his child to the barbaric outpost of Pleir.
Now, years later, the young herdsman Falon sets out on a mysterious mission to the border city of Tizare, accompanied by a would-be wizard and half-wild child.
Their quest is all that stands between Ar and an eternal nightmare of tyranny.
Den of Thieves!
Falon slid next to the bandit. His precious cape was draped loosely over the thief's shoulders. He swiped at the cape, catching it in his claws. Then he snatched up the bandit's sword.
“Now!” he yelled at Caissir. The wizard skidded on some spilled wine, and Falon had to jerk him to his feet. The cape trailed behind him, a brilliant flag drawing the unwanted attention of whole tables of bandits. Some of them started stumbling to their feet.
“Move, Caissir! Get your fat mrem tail moving!”
Falon turned to look over his shoulder. A blade was flying at him, a long, heavy blade thrown with the deadly expertise of a practiced brigand. No more than an arm's length away, and aimed perfectly at the center of his chest ...
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