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The Hidden Castle: The Star of Aronna, #1
The Hidden Castle: The Star of Aronna, #1
The Hidden Castle: The Star of Aronna, #1
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The Hidden Castle: The Star of Aronna, #1

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The Hidden Castle:


Once the bloody battle of Yarra was over, the black-garbed mercenary known only as the Traveller wanted nothing more than to ride away and find himself a new employer and a new war to fight in. But then a dying man reached out to the Traveller to give him a silver locket and begged him to deliver a message.
The Traveller gave the man his word – and mercenary or not, he was still a man of honour. So he headed off to deliver the message, right into the heart of the vast and uncharted Jewodda forest, not knowing that he was about to meet his destiny…

Bonus Story: The Black Blade

It fell from the sky in a trail of fire during the worst storm the realm had ever seen. A sword as black as the night, corrupting all it touched. The black blade would bring one hundred and fifty years of blood and darkness to the land of Allagat, before it finally found its match…

Two fantasy tales of 8000 words or approx. 25 print pages altogether.
 

LanguageEnglish
Release dateJun 29, 2012
ISBN9781498966986
The Hidden Castle: The Star of Aronna, #1
Author

Cora Buhlert

Cora Buhlert was born and bred in North Germany, where she still lives today – after time spent in London, Singapore, Rotterdam and Mississippi. Cora holds an MA degree in English from the University of Bremen and is currently working towards her PhD. Cora has been writing, since she was a teenager, and has published stories, articles and poetry in various international magazines. When she is not writing, she works as a translator and teacher.

Read more from Cora Buhlert

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    Book preview

    The Hidden Castle - Cora Buhlert

    Map of Aronna

    Map

    The Hidden Castle

    pinstripe

    After thirteen long days and thirteen endless nights, the battle of Yarra was finally over. The forces of Gurgan Betarius, the latest nobleman to attempt to capture the throne of Aronna, had been beaten. And now that the relentless clatter of steel on steel, the steady hail of arrows, the thunder of the cannons and the battlecries of the soldiers had faded, the wails of the dying and the croaks of the carrion birds come to feast on their remains was all that was left.

    Among the dead and the dying strode a man, a nameless traveller, all dressed in black. He’d had a name once, and a family, but that was in the distant past. Now, he was but a soldier, a warrior who had survived this battle to fight another day. And so he strutted briskly, his grey eyes full of purpose, seemingly unaware of the dead and the soon to be dead lying all around him.

    The Traveller was only too eager to turn his back on the battlefield, find a horse and ride away. For once the battle was over, a mercenary’s work was done. And a mercenary was just what the Traveller was. And like all men of his profession he never stayed around for the aftermath of a battle. The dead, the dying, the wounded, the scorched earth, all that was just too sobering for his taste. It made a man think too much, and that was something the Traveller could not afford.

    From the mass of dead bodies, piled up to be buried or burned, lest their corpses attract scavengers or breed disease, a hand reached out to the Traveller and tightened around his blood encrusted boots.

    The Traveller was not sure what made him stop. Many of the wounded and the dying were crying for help, desperate for the attention of those still living. The Traveller ignored all of them and he did not know what was different about this one, did not know why this particular man was able to arouse pity within his soul when so many others could not. Perhaps he was just more desperate and more insistent than most.

    At any rate, the Traveller bent down to the dying man, both to pry his fingers off his boots and to make him comfortable for the last moments of his life or at least put him out of his misery.

    But the dying man was nothing if not persistent. As soon as the Traveller bent down, the man’s fingers clamped down on his wrist with a strength he would not

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