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    Intrigue (Prequel): Archer of the Heathland
    Intrigue (Prequel): Archer of the Heathland
    Intrigue (Prequel): Archer of the Heathland
    Ebook46 pages36 minutes

    Intrigue (Prequel): Archer of the Heathland

    By J.W. Elliot

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    About this ebook

    A rogue Duke, a beautiful woman, and a deadly mission.

    Weyland, the best archer in the king's army, wants revenge for the slaughter of his family. But when he stumbles across a murdered man with a secret and he saves a duke's life in battle, he finds himself entangled in noble intrigues of the worst kind. A copper coin, a princess, and a beautiful tavern girl push Weyland's skill and loyalty to the limit. Now Weyland has to survive long enough to fulfill his promise to the Duke without getting so deeply ensnared in noble intrigues that he cannot escape.

    This novelette introduces the new adventure series Archer of the Heathland. Book One of the series, entitled Deliverance, picks up the story of Weyland's son, Brion, and his desperate flight into the heathland.

    This is an adventure series perfect for fans of John Flanagan's Ranger's Apprentice, J.R.R. Tolkien's Lord of the Rings, T.H. White's The Sword in the Stone, Christopher Paolini's Eragon series, and George R. R. Martin's Game of Thrones / A Song of Ice and Fire series.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherJ.W. Elliot
    Release dateDec 14, 2019
    ISBN9781393837725

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      Book preview

      Intrigue (Prequel) - J.W. Elliot

      Archer of the

      Heathland

      Intrigue

      J.W. Elliot

      This is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places, and events are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, historical events, or locations are entirely coincidental.

      Copyright © 2018 J.W. Elliot

      All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system except as may be expressly permitted in writing by the publisher.

      Bent Bow Publishing

      P.O. Box 1426

      Middleboro, MA 02346

      Cover Design by Brandi Doane McCann

      If you enjoy this book, please consider leaving an honest review on Amazon and sharing on your social media sites.

      Please sign up for my newsletter where you can get a free short story and more great, free content at: www.jwelliot.com

      For My Dad,

      Sam. I Miss You.

      Intrigue

      THE NIGHT SEETHED with an energy and anticipation that brought the goose bumps to Weyland’s arms. He reined his horse to a halt. Someone was out there. Something was going to happen. The foreboding heightened his senses. The smell of human sweat, urine, and wood smoke floated on the breeze that blew over from the camp. The fall of a boot ground pebbles and sand underfoot. A glint of moonlight flashed on steel. Weyland slipped from the saddle and slapped his horse into a walk. He shadowed the animal as it picked its way along the narrow wash leading to the army’s encampment. He didn’t want to be silhouetted on the back of a horse when someone was sneaking about the underbrush.

      The path wound its way amid the high heather and the scattered bunches of oak and beech trees. Laro Forest loomed dark and impenetrable to the east. Weyland had finished his circuit of the archers from his company who were posted to guard the camp. The Duke of Saylen had chosen this ground for the coming battle and now waited for the Salassani to make the next move. The scattered canopy of oak, beech, and the occasional patch of serviceberry splintered the light of the full moon, casting fragmented and shifting shadows as the breeze played through the branches. Weyland was still inside the pickets where no enemy was supposed to be. Yet he had seen that flash of steel.

      Harsh whispers followed by a grunt and a gasp disturbed the night. Something heavy crashed through the heather and rolled down the gentle slope into the wash. Weyland crouched low, hugging the shadows, listening to the sound of retreating footsteps. The scattered moonlight flashed across a striped surcoat for an instant before the undergrowth swallowed the shadowy figure.

      Weyland crept toward the sound of ragged, labored breathing. It might be one of their own men who needed help. The man lay in a heap against the trunk of the oak tree that arrested his fall. Weyland recognized the crest of the Duke of Saylen stitched to the man’s cloak—a stag set against a teardrop shield. Kneeling beside the dying man to see if there was

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