Barbarian Blood Royal MobiPocket (Kindle Format)

Book 6 of The Narrative of Riven the Heretic
Part 1 of The Arcanian Chronicles

By Toni V. Sweeney

Following their parents’ deaths during the Genocide Wars, the five sons of Riven kan Ingan escape the margrave’s injustice by going their separate ways.

Growing to adulthood in foreign lands, each lives by his wits or his skill with a sword as they wait for the day of their revenge. When that time comes, they’ll answer their elder brother’s call, leaving homes and friends and returning to their homeland and avenge themselves upon Morling, king of Francovia.

In the following battle, the gods prepare to make the achieving of their goal as complicated as possible. They don’t realize the kan Ingans need no divine help in making that feat as difficult as possible.

Genre: Fantasy

Sensuality rating: 4

Cover Art by James Robinson

This book is available in the following formats:
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Author: Toni V. Sweeney

Chapter 1


   “Good evening, Weaver...” the preternaturally quiet voice of Dormos, sleep-inducing child of Death, was a whisper in the Weaver’s ear as the godling glided past, dark robes brushing her loom.

She started slightly. “And to you, my lord. What do you here? I’ve not requested your presence.”

“No, but my uncle has.” Turning his head within its dark hood, Dormos’ glowing eyes looked past her to Ildred’s glittering figure. He bowed. “I come as ordered, most respected uncle. What will you have of me?”

“It’s time for the brothers to again meet. Grant the elder one a dream. There’s a sorcerer in the mountain wolves’ fortress. Send him to the man. Give him a sign it’s time to call his brothers.”

“Shall I call Night Mare to aid me?” Dormos raised a hand to summon his sister who masqueraded as a wild-eyed, untamable horse, luring unsuspecting sleepers to climb upon her back, whence she took them on frenzied rides to fantastic realms before allowing them to awaken.

“Perhaps.” Ildred considered. “The more frightening the aspect of his dream, the more he’ll believe it a message from the gods.”

Bowing once more, Dormos swept back the clouds and beckoned to Night Mare who stamped her hooves and snorted with glee...

~ * ~

Val One Eye stood upon the high precipice under which the wolves’ fortress was carved out of the mountain.

The spring wind, sharp with the lingering bite of frost, blew about him but he didn’t feel its chill. The long-sleeved woolen shirt woven by one of his women kept the cold from touching him, as did the leather tunic he wore over it. The tanned hide fluttered, making the tiny metal disks, so thin and close together they resembled a fish’s scales, glitter as they cast back the reflection of the torches flaring below him.

His fur-lined cape whipped away from his body, billowing behind him like the wings of a monstrous bird. For an instant, Samric, standing a few feet away, thought he truly resembled the bird of prey whose name his father’s clan had taken.

For three nights, One Eye had cometo this cliff, wearing Tamsin’s cloak and calling into the night…

It’s time to return.

He’d known it for months and ignored that knowledge, but now, he could refuse no longer. Wherever they were, Ilke, Shael, Hroric, and Merigan must return to Francovia, meet him and keep the promise they’d made fifteen years before.

“This is a fool’s errand.” Samric raised his voice so he could be heard above the wind’s howl. “You can’t know they still live.”

“They live,” Val replied shortly.

The wind blew his words to Samric, whipping his hair about his face as he looked back at the wolf leader. The narrow leather band holding in place the patch over his lost eye looked like a streak of dried blood against his skin.

“They live, and they’ll come, no matter how far away they’ve fled.”

     “You’d return to that place of death? There’s nothing for you there. Why would you leave what you have here?”

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