Welcome to another Friday Author Spotlight! This week I have P.H. Solomon with his novel, The Bow of Destiny.
P. H. Solomon lives in the greater Birmingham, AL area where he strongly dislikes yard work and sanding the deck rail. However, he performs these duties to maintain a nice home for his loved ones as well as the family’s German Shepherds. In his spare time, P. H. rides herd as a Computer Whisperer on large computers called servers (harmonica not required). Additionally, he enjoys reading, running, most sports and fantasy football. Having a degree in Anthropology, he also has a wide array of more “serious” interests in addition to working regularly to hone his writing. The Bow of Destiny is his first novel-length title with more soon to come.
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About the Book
Haunted by his past. Hunted in the present. Uncertain what is real.
Athson has seen things that aren’t there and suffered fits since being tragically orphaned as a child at the hands of trolls and Corgren the wizard. When a strange will mentioning a mysterious bow comes into his possession, he’s not sure it’s real. But the trolls that soon pursue him are all too real and dangerous. And what’s worse, these raiders serve Corgren and his master, the hidden dragon, Magdronu, who are responsible for the destruction of his childhood home. Athson is drawn into a quest for the concealed Bow of Hart by the mystic Withling, Hastra, but Athson isn’t always sure what’s real and who his enemies are. With Corgren and Magdronu involved, Athson must face not only frequent danger but his grasp on reality and the reasons behind his tragic past.
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Keep reading for an excerpt:
Arrows zipped past them, burrowing into tree trunks.
Gweld nodded. “Shoot now.”
The rangers skidded to a halt and whirled. They exhaled, released, drew again and released.
Four of the trolls fell. The rangers fled as the horn on the left blared louder. The horn behind hooted. Athson focused on his legs churning.
The rangers raced for the ford at the Fallendrill River. Their feet pounded the ground, and they heaved under the weight of packs. Over sounds of horns, shouts, and footfalls, the roar of the falls mounted louder.
Athson chanced a glance north. He couldn’t see how many there were. Ground churned away under his feet. The falls above the ford roared like a bear. Gravel clattered underfoot.
Sensing they were too late to beat the other group, Gweld shouted, “Again!”
They wheeled again, released an arrow each, and ran. Two trolls thudded into the road. Athson understood Gweld intended to thin the pursuit for a chance of escape across the Fallendrill.
Trees whisked past them. Snarls and shouts erupted ahead.
They rounded a bend and the river came into sight, running north to south from the falls on the left. Ten trolls ranged at intervals from the near bank to the eastern one with weapons hefted. The rangers shifted their bows to their off-hands while running, pulled their elven long knives, and charged their foes. Behind, the pursuit howled.
The rangers ran straight at the four snake-faced hobgoblins barring the way. Two ranks of three goblins guarded against escape through the ford on the far bank.
At the last moment Gweld rolled low into the legs of a pair of hobgoblins. The trolls fell over the elf. Athson slashed at the fallen pair and danced away from the others.
Water splashed the combatants in the shallows as Gweld slogged to his feet. Arrows whistled from fore and behind them. Athson cut a hobgoblin and the troll collapsed, gushing blood at the throat.
Gweld sloshed into knee-deep water toward the goblins. The closest trolls gave up their bows and pulled swords. More trolls charged from behind, and Athson wheeled in defense.
The rangers slashed and lunged in the shallows. The combatants hacked at each other in swirling eddies. Three goblins on the eastern bank wounded two of their own with arrows. Troll’s blood spread in the water as another three collapsed before the desperate rangers.
A hobgoblin cut Athson’s forearm, and he lost sight of Gweld in the fray. Athson smacked at a goblin’s wrist with his sword flat, then stabbed for the belly.
Gweld lunged back into Athson’s view, thrusting for the gut of a hobgoblin. The troll fell but cracked Gweld’s head with its sword. Gweld staggered into deeper water and collapsed, and the current tugged at him.
Athson shouted. He lunged and parried a stroke meant for his friend. Gweld half-rose as Athson fought off the advancing attackers, and goblins charged from the bank, sensing victory.
Athson breathed raggedly and covered Gweld while he recovered. He dodged thrusts and parried slashes, giving ground against flanking attackers. He feinted one way then stabbed a goblin in the throat. He fell back again. Gweld attempted to stagger to his feet but fell, rolling into deeper current, which tugged him away.
Athson stepped back and caught his foot between rocks. The trolls feinted, snarling and laughing, confident of victory. Athson hefted his long knife, panicking as Gweld floated away.