Welcome to this week’s Friday Author Spotlight! Today let’s welcome back P.H. Solomon with the third book in The Bow of Hart Saga, The White Arrow. Later he’ll be sharing an excerpt from the book, but first, let’s get reacquainted.
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
Bound to prophecy, his destiny balanced on an arrow’s tip.
This unique epic fantasy will keep you turning pages as Athson marches toward his inevitable destiny.
With the Bow of Hart in hand, Athson is hunted by his enemies. His mistakes haunt him as much as his past.
Hastra the Withling reveals Eloch will send an arrow for the bow. Magdronu plots to thwart the prophecy as his trolls march on Auguron City.
But when the arrow arrives, it is from a most unexpected source and lands in unforeseen hands. Events twist like an arrow in flight.
Can Athson overcome his past and his failures to use the Bow of Hart as intended against Magdronu? The archer and the bow await the coming arrow…
Pick up the last book of The Bow of Hart Saga because it’s “quietly addictive.”
Get it today on Amazon!
Keep reading for an excerpt:
Apeth pushed himself to his feet and then knelt before Athson. He touched Athson’s head and whispered a word Athson never heard clearly, but it echoed across his mind in a moment that passed like hours.
Wellness covered Athson in an instant like a raincoat donned in a sudden downpour of rain. The cascade of sickness rolled from him. The fever fell away. The dizziness ceased, and his vision snapped into clarity along with his thoughts. Weariness clattered from his limbs like chains from a prisoner. He gasped in delayed reaction to the Withling’s healing.
Apeth Stellin withdrew across the fire and rolled his bedding. “I was wondering why I was withheld from healing you. And now it’s clear.”
Athson stood. “I don’t follow you.”
“We need to move.” Apeth pointed toward the cave entrance past the mule. “That wandering star is a sign. We aren’t the only ones to have seen it. You can bet Magdronu is seeking the arrow. North is our way, but choices lie ahead for you.”
Athson shoved the last of his venison in his mouth and chewed. In his mind, there was but one choice. “I see one way ahead.”
Apeth tugged at the brim of his hat, and his blue-eyed gaze twinkled at Athson. “Oh, you have choices. What to do with the bow. Whether to finish this quest and find the arrow.”
With his arms spread wide, Athson lifted his gaze to the darkened cave roof rising above them. “Don’t you see? There’s no need for choices. Everyone’s dead that matters to me. My father. Limbreth. My companions. I can only see my way to one thing now, and that’s bartering for my mother.”
“That’s a choice to let the curse on you continue to grasp your life, Athson, continue to let Magdronu’s evil control you. You have a choice to stop it.” Apeth stepped close again, intense but not threatening. “As for Limbreth, by your dream, I wouldn’t assume anything about her fate. But there are choices ahead. Will you go as far as Marston’s Station with me before you make your final choice with the bow?”
Athson nodded. “I’ll go that far. I need supplies. But there’s no other choice for me.”
“Oh, but there is. Your dreams indicate something you must face.” Apeth gathered his things and paused in front of Athson.
Athson crossed his arms. “What must I face?”
“That you are gifted to be a Withling, asked to serve Eloch with everything you’ve been given.” The Withling strode toward the mule.
Athson’s head spun anew, but not from fever. Light from the wandering star shone in the entrance of the cave and lit the Bow of Hart where he’d left it near the mule. His anger rose in a sudden shout. “No!”