FEATURED TITLE
Title:
Myrlyn's Gate
Author:
Dan Ehl
Email: news@kalonanews.com
Genre: Fantasy
Excerpt
Heat Level: 1
Book
Heat Level: 1
REVIEW:
$4.99
REVIEW:
Jo Ann Hakola, The Book Faerie
Jo Ann Hakola, The Book Faerie
Vlad
came from a long line of evil men. They
loved killing and torturing
people,
and the dungeons were well used. Vlad
was raised mostly by his
mother
and he learned about love and kindness.
When he takes over the realm
all
anyone knows is that the Dragol line is evil.
Telling them he's not
like
that doesn't do him a bit of good.
The
author sent me a copy of this book to read for review (thank you). You
can
buy a copy in ebook or print form.
I
have to say that Mr. Ehl could be writing stories just for me. They are
the
type of fantasy that I love to read.
I've read his Jak Barley
adventures
and this is a different side of the story.
I had mentioned in my
review
in the past that I wanted to know about Lorenzo. I know a bit more,
but
I get the feeling you never really know Lorenzo. He just is and can do
amazing
things and he's handy to have around when you're on a quest.
The
story moves along well and has all kinds of unusual characters. While
it
sounds like it's incongruous and mixed up, it's really a very good story.
Everything
fits together and makes sense when you read about it, no matter
how
strange it might sound summed up.
If
you like action fantasies with heroes and dragons and magic and even a
troll,
you'll enjoy this story. I know I did
and I plan to keep my copy of
this
book in my personal library. I'll read
it again.
Happy
reading.
Jo
Ann Hakola
The
Book Faerie
4225
Harrison St
Las
Cruces, NM 88005
http://bookfaerie.com
http://bkfaerie.blogspot.com
http://shelvedtreasures.blogspot.com
BLURB:
Vladimir
Dragol XIII had an immense task--convincing the world he was
not following in
his ancestors' bloody footprints.
When
the chance to prove himself came in the form of an attractive princess on a
quest to save world, how could he refuse? There was a slight
problem--the
princess loathed the Dragol line.
There
was also the dilemma that others alluded to in the quest
prophecy--a dragon
trainee and wizard's apprentice--wanted nothing to do with the task.
Through
Myrlyn's Gate was another foretold member of the quest
who had no idea what was
in store for him, including a midnight raid on the
Dickeyville Grotto in the
strange land of Wisconsin.
EXCERPT:
Vladimir
Dragol XIII had an immense task--convincing the world he was
not
following in his ancestors' bloody footprints.
When
the chance to prove himself came in the form of an attractive princess on a
quest to save world, how could he refuse? There was a slight problem--the
princess
loathed the Dragol line.
There
was also the dilemma that others alluded to in the quest
prophecy--a
dragon trainee and wizard's apprentice--wanted nothing to do with the task.
Through
Myrlyn's Gate was another foretold member of the quest
who
had no idea what was in store for him, including a midnight raid on the
Dickeyville
Grotto in the strange land of Wisconsin.
Together
the quest mates would battle rogue dragons, a demented king¹s army and bikers
at a bar in Bear River, Iowa.
EXCERPT
Garin hesitated, dazed by the fierce headache. It was time to silence
the bell. He didn't feel strong enough for the deed, but there was no other
choice. He reached out and picked up the receiver.
"What?"
"Mr. Garin Hemphill?"
"Yeah."
"Good morning. I'm calling about our new triple-paned aluminum
storm windows now on sale..."
Garin had predicted the night before that it was going to be an ugly
morning, the kind that made dying in one's sleep an attractive option. The
suspicion first reared its ugly head at two a.m. when a blurry-eyed Garin first
noticed the army of dead beer cans littering the war zone of the kitchen floor.
A few of the casualties had even made it to the living room before giving up
the spirit.
Luck was certainly not on Garin's side. He had hoped to sleep through
the morning and most of his hangover.
"I don't need new windows. The ones I have are perfectly
good."
"But sir, you haven't seen our deluxe, triple-paned, easy access
windows guaranteed for the life of you or your house, whichever goes first.
What's your heating bill?"
"What?"
"Your heating bill. Our windows can slash your heating bills in
half."
Garin stretched the phone line and slumped into a kitchen chair. He
winced at the bright morning light streaming in through the rippled glass of
the old windows.
"My heating bill is fine. I don't need new windows."
"What color is your house?"
"What?"
"What color is your house? We also have a full line of enamel
coated window frames that can be matched to any house color."
Garin guessed the telephone call must be some kind of penance. What
other reason could there be for this torture?
"And?"
"And what?"
"What color is your house?"
"Chartreuse."
"What?"
"Chartreuse."
'You're putting me on. Your house is yellowish-green?"
Garin rubbed his eyes and wondered if the cord would reach all the way
to the medicine cabinet where the aspirins were located.
"Yes, chartreuse. Do you have some kind of problem with that?"
"No, it's just that we don't get many chartreuse houses. Did you
pick that color?"
"What?"
"Did you pick that color?"
"As a matter of fact, no. My mother picked it fifteen years ago. Of
course it's getting a bit faded, but it is still recognizable as...”
"As...?"
"Shit."
"Shit?"
"Shit. I just saw something fly by my window."
"An aluminum window?"
"No, a tiny dragon."
"What?"
"A dragon."
"Now, is your window an ..."
"I just saw a tiny dragon fly toward the barn."
"Listen, if you don't want to buy new windows, why don't you just
say so?"
"I have said so."
"You want to buy new windows?"
"No, I don't want to buy new windows. The ones I have are good
enough."
"But sir, you haven't seen our deluxe, triple-paned easy access
window guaranteed for the life of you or your house, whichever comes first.
What's your heating bill?"
"What?"
"Your heating bill. Our windows can slash your heating bills in
half."
Garin staggered across the kitchen and hung up the phone. There was some
guilt involved. He'd read a recent Associated Press story about the
psychological problems experienced by telemarketers. Continual rejection, much
of it very rudely worded, resulted in severe trauma. The suicide rate for
telephone salespeople, the story claimed, was almost as high as for people who
consistently listened to country music.
He didn't bother putting on a shirt or shoes, wearing only his jeans as
he rushed out the door. He was numb to the gravel under his feet as he picked
his way across the rocky and weedy farmyard. He climbed the fence of the empty
cattle yard, walked past the wooden feed bunks and stopped at the barn door.
This was going to be as bad as answering the phone, he worried, and stepped
inside.
It was worse than answering the phone. Five people were sleeping in a
pile of straw thrown down from the mow. Four looked as if they were dressed for
a Robin Hood movie. The fifth was clad in the leathers of a biker, but instead
of a big Harley, sprawled across most of the concrete floor was an immense
black dragon.
Garin only had so much stamina and it gave out when a small wyvern
darted into view and stopped only inches from his nose. They stared at each
other eyeball-to-eyeball before Garin's legs buckled and he collapsed to the
floor.
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