Welcome to TRB Lounge! We’re thrilled to host author Robert A. Walker today, who will be unveiling an intriguing excerpt from their new fantasy series, The Legend of Baelon, Six Moons, Seven Gods. Dive in and get an exclusive sneak peek into the intriguing world they’ve crafted in their latest work!
About the Book
Six Moons, Seven Gods
“One must be careful practicing deception. The easiest to deceive will always be one’s self.”
The skilled thieves of the Takers Guild plot to overthrow the kingdoms of Baelon, but when their plans are thwarted by a prescient woman and her brooding daughter, they must turn to the League of Assassins for assistance. Meanwhile, retired royal guard Rolft Aerns returns to the palace of King Axil with an old score to settle. When they all cross paths–and swords–in the dark shadows of Fostead’s south end, nothing is as it seems and the murder count rises quickly.
The long fingers of the Guild reach everywhere, and one overly ambitious thief is all it takes to spark a chain of events that will haunt the world of Baelon for many years to come.
Six Moons, Seven Gods is book one in The Legends of Baelon.
You can find Six Moons, Seven Gods here:
Amazon
Night was falling as Sibil left the cobbler’s shop. She turned to watch its front door close, managing to wave before the cobbler’s wrinkled face and long leather apron disappeared inside. The small shop was, as the abbot had said, but a short walk from The God of Children’s House; she had had no trouble finding it following his directions. The abbot had given her a metal amulet in the shape of a rectangular shield the size of her palm. Its leather thong enabled it to be worn around the neck, but the abbot had told her to present it to the cobbler with one of her mother’s worn shoes upon arrival.
She had done so and, as predicted by the abbot, the cobbler—a kindly old man with a mop of white hair—had simply asked, “How do you come by this, my dear?”
And though it seemed a bit odd to her, she had responded as instructed: “Thank you for asking, Master Nash. Father Syrus prays for me.”
The cobbler had returned the amulet to her hand, folding her fingers around it. “Then I am at your service, madam. What can I do for you?”
When Sibil had explained her predicament, the cobbler had assured her that if she would return on the morrow at sunrise, he would have ready for her mother a pair of new turnshoes made of soft leather goatskin. There would be no charge.
Sibil retraced her steps down a narrow alley as her thoughts returned to her mother’s strange behavior. She had purposely ignored previous impulses to reconstruct the day’s events, telling herself she had more important things to pursue. She had first focused her energies on finding shelter, and then busied herself with the abbot’s offer of new shoes. Those would help her mother’s immediate plight, no doubt, but the woman’s physical ailments were clearly nothing compared to what was plaguing her mind. Things had not been right with her since Sibil’s father died. And they had gotten progressively worse. It was as though she had drifted away from her old self, and from those she had been close to. Sibil had not had a meaningful conversation with her for almons. There were sparks of life here and there, moments when Sibil dared to hope that her mother might be released from whatever enthralled her, but today’s events had seriously dashed any such dream. Aloof and withdrawn was bad enough. Now it seemed her mother was drifting from reality as well. Her irrational rants about the king and Sibil’s own safety were a new—
A violent force slammed into Sibil’s shoulder, knocking her sideways and into the alley wall. She lost her footing, falling to one knee, dazed. There was the sound of gravel grating under foot.
“Well now, lass, jest where might you be goin’?”
Sibil’s heartbeat quickened. She should have known not to take the alley. It was dark, but not so dark that she could not make out the shape of a tall man standing over her. She could smell him as well. Suddenly, he grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head toward his crotch.
Sibil still held the amulet. Instinctively, she drove it as hard as she could up between the man’s legs. He gasped and released her hair.
“Bitch!” The man reached once more for her, but Sibil had already drawn her arm back. She struck him again with the amulet, in the same spot, only this time with more purchase and resolve. “Agh!” Too late, the man struggled to shield his privates.
Sibil stood, dropping the amulet as she reached frantically for the dagger beneath her coat. Her fingers trembled as they curled tightly around its hilt. She brandished the blade menacingly, panting as she sought to ward off her attacker.
“Bitch!” The man drew his own, much larger, knife. He lunged as Sibil turned and ran straight into the arms of an even larger man she had not seen approaching from the other end of the alley. She tried to push away, but already he had wrapped a strong arm around her, pinning both of hers and lifting her off her feet. Still holding her, the big man grabbed her oncoming assailant with his other arm and threw him headfirst against the alley wall.
Sibil squirmed, but the big man held her tightly with one arm. With the other, he pried the dagger from her hand.
“I’m going to let you go now. No further harm will come to you.”
Sibil found herself standing on her own, unsure of what to think. The big man held her dagger by the blade and offered it to her. “Take it and be off.”
What’s happening? Sibil hesitated before instinct overrode all else. With another surge of adrenaline coursing through her veins, she snatched her knife and ran.
About The Author
Robert A. Walker
I grew up in a small Northwestern town in Massachusetts. My father was a professional editor, so I’m sure the itch to play with words is something I inherited from him. I was always writing stories as a youth, and my dad would scribble all over them before handing them back to me. When I graduated college, I packed everything I owned into a small car with a rusted-out floorboard and headed west. I wound up in California where I found not only employment, but a
wife, and we have lived here happily with our dogs and a view of the Pacific Ocean ever since.
When I’m not fabricating tales, I can be found competing on local tennis courts or working on a
never-ending list of DIY house projects.
You can find author Walker here:
Author Website
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