Unveiling the Wizards’ Shroud
By
Eric Price
MuseItUp
Publishing
November,
2013
.jpg)
About the Book:
As the only son to King Kendrick, Owen
despises the idea of being king one day. Magician may be the only career he’d
like less. He has dreaded the days leading up to his fifteenth birthday, when
his father will certainly declare Owen heir to the throne. But at the birthday
celebration, his father falls ill. The only person in the kingdom that may be
able to save him is a magician–the very same magician Owen holds responsible
for the death of his mother.
Owen and his companions
will have to travel the continent of Wittatun in search of the cure for King
Kendrick. On the
journey, they will battle strange beasts and harsh climates, befriend
extraordinary magicians, and meet a dragon before returning to Innes
Castle–where much has happened in the days since he departed.
The Giveaway:Available in all sizes. For US mailing addresses only, sorry. Non-US readers, if you pre-order, keep your confirmation number as well. I have more giveaways planned for after the release.
a Rafflecopter giveaway
What I love about Unveiling the Wizards’ Shroud is the surprises. With my publisher, authors go through at least six rounds of edits. Three with the content editor to make sure the plot elements stay consistent and the narrative is written in an active voice, not passive. Two rounds with a line editor to fix grammar mistakes and to weed out overused words. And one round with a format editor to make sure it transfers from a word processor file to the eBook format without any errors. Each time I read through the story, I discovered elements I forgot I’d included, from witty comments by the characters to subtle bits of symbolism. I once read, “If you don’t surprise yourself, you won’t surprise your readers.” I hope my readers will find a lot of surprises.
Read an Excerpt:
Chapter One
The Festival
The late afternoon sun glared in the young warrior's eyes.
Squinting, he could only see his opponent’s outline. His ever tightening leg
muscles cried for a reprieve with each step, yet he continued to circle,
waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. After a long day of sword
dueling with little downtime between rounds, Owen's whole body screamed for a rest.But he wanted nothing more in the world, at this precise moment, than to win
the championship bout.
His opponent must also be tired. They had each fought four
previous matches, and every contestant entered in the tournament presented a
worthy challenge. Edward, Shield of the King—the commander of the King's
Sentry, the strongest army in all of Wittatun—received continual praise for his
skill with a blade. Owen, having already defeated two Sentrymen earlier in the
day, hoped to beat one more. But to overcome the King’s Shield would require
more skill than besting a Sentryman of lesser rank.
The fighters continued to circle one another. Sunlight
gleamed off Edward's brilliant metal chest plate and helm. Now facing the
westering sun, the Shield of the King squinted. The younger fighter saw his
opportunity and sprung. He feigned a slash toward the commander's shield hand.
When Edward raised his shield and braced for impact, Owen redoubled his
assault.
He spun and sliced his blade at his opponent's neck. The loud
clang of steel on steel resonated throughout the courtyard as Edward raised his
sword to parry. The vibration transmitted up Owen’s arm, but he finished his
compound attack by kicking the Sentryman in the chest plate. The judge blew a
whistle to signify the landing of the first blow in the best-of-three veney.
The experienced warrior wasted no time mounting his
counterattack by gaining the measure and reestablishing just distance. He made
several quick jabs at Owen's head and chest, which the defender parried away
with ease and countered with a testing jab. Edward sidestepped, moved back in
line, and raised his sword to the en garde position. The younger fighter
noticed Edward’s shield drop ever so slightly. The tiny gap in defense may
provide the opening needed to finish him.
Owen lunged. He recognized the move as a mistake, but his
forward motion could not be stopped. The tip of Edward’s sword slid between the
hinge where the chest plate met the shoulder guard and dug into muscle. Sharp
pain shot through his left shoulder, and he barely heard the judge blow the
whistle through the anguish. Edward had lowered his shield as an invitation for
a strike. When the younger fighter took the offering, the elder's stop-thrust
found the only weak point of the armor.
Owen, large for his age, still stood six inches shorter than
the Shield, whose muscular forearms resembled Owen’s thighs. The chainmail
armor on his forearm, form fitting on most soldiers, clung tight to Edward. His
muscles rippled as he pushed the sword tip a little deeper into the meat. A
stream of blood trickled down the blade and dripped to the ground.
Edward sneered. Red drops splattered the trampled grass. “I
wish we fought to first-blood. I hope the king doesn't put me to death for
injuring his son.”
