Release date: September 25, 2019
Subgenre: Military fantasy
About Tooth and Blade:
Desperate young warriors fighting for gold and glory in a land filled with monsters.
The warriors of the Tooth and Blade will fight for Ostora, to protect the people of this new land from the dangers that stalk it. Somehow, if they live long enough, they hope to find a place for themselves here.
But the future of these fighting men is anything but certain, and Captain Pelekarr of the cavalry must work quickly with Damicos of the foot soldiers to establish the fledgling company's reputation. The Kerathi military has pulled out, and the barbarian tribesmen are massing for battle while huge monsters lurk in the trees.
If the Tooth and Blade can fight their way past all this, they'll become legends. But how many will die trying?
Excerpt:
Keltos heard Cormoran and Fieron exchange grumbling commentary on
being lumped in with the horsemen, but soon none of them had breath
to spare for words. They sprinted across the stream sheeting water
to each side, and emerged onto the tiny path worn into the steep
side of the bluff that loomed darkly over their heads.
More than once they slipped and fell on the steep dirt path, only to rise and scramble upwards again, using their weapons for leverage. Muscles ached, breath rasped in lungs as they heaved their bodies upward. Each moment they expected an arrow to pierce their skulls.
Keltos felt something hum past his ear, confirming his fear. He threw himself flat against the rocks.
“Shooting!”
“Move!” Ireth hissed. Makos pushed him onward from behind. They were right behind the Duran woman now, with Meldus and Ica following, and the hoplites a little further down still.
Another arrow sailed down, this time piercing Meldus in the back of the leg. He cried out and sank back several feet. As Keltos looked back, Cormoran bent to help the man, but Meldus waved the others on.
“Don’t stop. Get up there, or we’re all finished!”
“Come on, archers,” Keltos heard Makos mutter as they both launched themselves up the trail with fresh energy. “Loose, damn you, loose! Keep them down.”
No other shaft came for a moment, and Keltos wondered if one or all of the watchers remaining on guard at the back entrance to the camp had turned to go for reinforcements. This seemed to be confirmed when a sharp whistle sounded from below, and a volley of shafts hummed out and up overhead, a cluster of white streaks in the gloom.
“That’s it, Argaf!” Ireth said as they each paused to watch the Duran arrows go. “Hit them for us!”
“Praise Telion,” Keltos muttered. Then they were climbing again, their legs burning now with the intense and frenzied exertion. His arms strained at every rock and root that could keep him from sliding back down.
They were near the top now, having taken no more than three minutes to get from the stream to the bluff’s peak. Ireth’s soft leather boot scraped on a bare patch of rock and she tumbled sideways, arresting her fall just in time to avoid going over into some bushes and down an even steeper embankment to the side. Cormoran reached over and helped her toward the path again, but now Keltos was in the lead and he pressed toward the part of the trail that leveled out just above.
So far, Felevus had answered their prayers; the rain had not begun yet, and the path was still traversable. In a few minutes’ time it would be a slippery mess of clay and rainwater, suicide for any that attempted the climb afterward. This meant they were even less likely to receive aid from below once the small rescue team had ascended to the camp.
Keltos held his saber before him, ready for anything when he lunged into view at the top.
More than once they slipped and fell on the steep dirt path, only to rise and scramble upwards again, using their weapons for leverage. Muscles ached, breath rasped in lungs as they heaved their bodies upward. Each moment they expected an arrow to pierce their skulls.
Keltos felt something hum past his ear, confirming his fear. He threw himself flat against the rocks.
“Shooting!”
“Move!” Ireth hissed. Makos pushed him onward from behind. They were right behind the Duran woman now, with Meldus and Ica following, and the hoplites a little further down still.
Another arrow sailed down, this time piercing Meldus in the back of the leg. He cried out and sank back several feet. As Keltos looked back, Cormoran bent to help the man, but Meldus waved the others on.
“Don’t stop. Get up there, or we’re all finished!”
“Come on, archers,” Keltos heard Makos mutter as they both launched themselves up the trail with fresh energy. “Loose, damn you, loose! Keep them down.”
No other shaft came for a moment, and Keltos wondered if one or all of the watchers remaining on guard at the back entrance to the camp had turned to go for reinforcements. This seemed to be confirmed when a sharp whistle sounded from below, and a volley of shafts hummed out and up overhead, a cluster of white streaks in the gloom.
“That’s it, Argaf!” Ireth said as they each paused to watch the Duran arrows go. “Hit them for us!”
“Praise Telion,” Keltos muttered. Then they were climbing again, their legs burning now with the intense and frenzied exertion. His arms strained at every rock and root that could keep him from sliding back down.
They were near the top now, having taken no more than three minutes to get from the stream to the bluff’s peak. Ireth’s soft leather boot scraped on a bare patch of rock and she tumbled sideways, arresting her fall just in time to avoid going over into some bushes and down an even steeper embankment to the side. Cormoran reached over and helped her toward the path again, but now Keltos was in the lead and he pressed toward the part of the trail that leveled out just above.
So far, Felevus had answered their prayers; the rain had not begun yet, and the path was still traversable. In a few minutes’ time it would be a slippery mess of clay and rainwater, suicide for any that attempted the climb afterward. This meant they were even less likely to receive aid from below once the small rescue team had ascended to the camp.
Keltos held his saber before him, ready for anything when he lunged into view at the top.
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About Shad Callister:
Shad Callister is a bit of a nomad, having lived in every region of
the U.S. and parts of South America as well. Nowadays he stays
close to the Rocky Mountains, where he quietly pursues interests in
military history, swordsmanship, and technology.
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