A faceless, nameless assassin. A forgotten
past. The Hunter of Voramis--a killer
devoid of morals, or something else altogether? (The Last Bucelarii--dark fantasy with a look at the underside of
human nature)
BLURB:
The Last Bucelarii (Book 2): Lament of the Fallen
The
Hunter of Voramis is no more.
Alone with the bloodthirsty voices in his
head, fleeing the pain of loss, he has one objective: travel north to find Her, the mystery woman who plagues his
dreams and haunts his memories.
When he stumbles upon a bandit attack, something
within urges him to help. His actions set him at odds with the warrior priests
commanded to hunt down the Bucelarii.
Left for dead, the Hunter must travel to
Malandria to recover his stolen birthright. There, he is inexorably drawn into
direct conflict with the Order of Midas, the faceless, nameless group of
magicians that holds the city in a grip of terror. All while struggling to
silence the ever-louder voice in his mind that drives him to kill.
From feared assassin to wretched outcast,
the Hunter's journey leads him to truths about his forgotten past and the
Abiarazi he has pledged to hunt. His discoveries will shed light on who he
really is…what he really is.
Fans of Joe Abercrombie, Brandon Sanderson, and Brent
Weeks will love the Hunter…
EXCERPT:
A
rough hand shook the Hunter from sleep. Instinct kicked in. Seizing his
assailant, he pressed his sword to the man's throat.
Visibos's
eyes flew wide and he held up his hands. "Easy, Hardwell. Just waking you
for your turn at watch."
The
Hunter nodded and lowered the sword.
Visibos
shook his head. Rubbing red-rimmed eyes, he stumbled toward his blankets with a
yawn. Within seconds, the low rumble of his snores floated around the campsite.
Darkness
hung on the campsite like a thick blanket. Only glowing embers remained of the
fire, but the Hunter made no effort to rebuild it. He preferred shadow. Unseen,
he could watch both the forest and his new traveling companions.
He
filled his lungs with the fresh, clean night air and rolled his neck and
shoulders to work out the kinks of sleeping on the forest floor. His blankets,
while thick and warm, provided little cushion against the hardness of the earth
beneath him.
Slinging
his baldric over his shoulder, he buckled on his sword. A quick inspection of
his saddlebags revealed nothing out of place. He ran a hand across the smooth
surface of the iron-lined box. Soulhunger's voice pounded in his mind, pleading
to feed. A twinge of pain settled behind his eyes.
The
Hunter savored the scents of the forest around him. The smoke from their dying
campfire hung heavy in the air, and beneath it, he smelled muted hints of plant
and animal life. A cool breeze rolled past, carrying with it the scent of
decaying leaves, pine sap, and a sweet-scented flower he couldn't identify.
The
Hunter wrapped his cloak tighter about himself as the chill of the early
morning wind sent a shiver down his spine. The crook of a large tree offered
him a comfortable place to sit his watch, as well as protection from the
occasional gust. He leaned against the thick trunk, curling his legs to his
chest. The shrouds of his dark cloak hid him from his companions, and he was
all but invisible beneath the forest canopy.
His
eyes roamed over the sleeping forms of his traveling companions. Only the red
tresses of Sir Danna's hair were visible, her thick bedroll swaddling the rest
of her in a snug bundle. Loud snores rose from the lump he knew to be Visibos.
'Kill them!'
The
demon's intensity startled the Hunter. The creature filled his mind with images
of Soulhunger drinking deep of the knight's heart-blood. His sword sliced into
Visibos' neck, spraying crimson.
No! The Hunter shook his head, endeavoring
to shake loose the gory thoughts. His fingers traced the scar on his chest. I
will not harm them.
'Leave them alive, and they will
discover your lie. You are no more Hardwell of Praamis than you are Danther the
tailor or Lord Anglion the Foolish.'
Rubbing
his eyes, the Hunter tried to calm the pounding in his head.
How could they know? They have no way to
uncover the truth. No, they are no threat to me.
'Foolish Bucelarii! How little you know. The humans you protect will be your undoing.'
The
Hunter closed his eyes, massaging his temples.
Why will you not leave me alone?
He
was so tired of hearing that voice in his head. He wanted freedom from that
voice. He needed peace.
'You know what you must do.'
REVIEWS:
"Creative, gritty, and beautifully
dark...fantasy addicts will love it!" -- Peter Story, author of Things Grak Hates -- http://peterjstory.com/
"The fantasy world has a compelling
new antihero…the Hunter will terrify and captivate you." - Eve A Floriste, author of Fresh Cut
"From the first words on the page this
fantasy holds the reader spellbound even after the book is finished…his
character is very well-defined even if his past is a mystery. Root for an
assassin? Oh, yes, one must!" -- Carol Conley, for InDTale
Magazine
"Oh the carnage! Fantastic
bloodthirsty carnage! The fight scenes in this book were fast-paced, detailed
and thrilling. I love a good sword fight and there is plenty of that here."
-- Ami L. Hart
"One could get lost in this novel for
its twisting plots, seemingly endless imagination, dark yet irresistible
characters, or the mind-numbing paradox of its simultaneously dark and romantic
world. One could follow the long and winding road of the dusky, fierce
protagonist and fight tooth and nail not to sympathize with him. One could
dance in the dizzying, intricate circles of Peloquin's neo-mythology, or even
basque in the black sunlight of a well-crafted gothic novel that both
entertains and enlightens." -- Jesse G. Christiansen
BUY LINKS:
Amazon.US * Amazon.UK *
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Andy Peolquin: Lover of All Things Dark and Mysterious
Andy Peloquin--a third culture kid to the core--has loved to
read since before he could remember. Sherlock
Holmes, the Phantom of the Opera,
and Father Brown are just a few of
the books that ensnared his imagination as a child.
When he discovered science fiction and fantasy through the pages
of writers like Edgar Rice Burroughs, J.R.R Tolkien, and Orson Scott Card, he
was immediately hooked and hasn't looked back since.
Andy's first attempt at writing produced In the Days: A Tale
of the Forgotten Continent. He has learned from the mistakes he made and
used the experience to produce Blade of the Destroyer, a book of which
he is very proud.
Reading—and now writing—is his favorite escape, and it provides
him an outlet for his innate creativity. He is an artist; words are his
palette.
His website (http://www.andypeloquin.com)
is a second home for him, a place where he can post his thoughts and
feelings--along with reviews of books he finds laying around the internet.
He can also be found on his social media pages, such as:
Twitter: https://twitter.com/AndyPeloquin
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/andyqpeloquin
A Few of My Favorite Things
Favorite
Books: The
Gentlemen Bastards by Scott Lynch, The Stormlight Archives by Brandon
Sanderson, Sherlock Holmes by A.C.
Doyle, Warlord of Mars by E.R.
Burroughs
Favorite
Songs: Wrong
Side of Heaven by Five Finger Death Punch, Prayer by Disturbed, I'm an Albatraoz by AronChupa, Look Down from Les Miserables, Shatter Me by Lindsay Sterling and Lizzi
Hale
Favorite
Movies: 300, Red Cliff, Shoot Em Up, Love Actually,
Princess Bride
Favorite
Comics: Anything with Deadpool, Wolverine or Doop
in it
Favorite
Foods: Hot Wings, Meat-Lover's Salad, A good
sandwich (made by me), Yaki Soba, Sushi
Favorite
TV Shows: The Flash, Daredevil, Agents of
S.H.I.E.L.D., Hawaii Five-0, Brooklyn 99, Firefly (too soon!), The Last Ship,
The Walking Dead, Game of Thrones
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