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Dark blood of the evil ten; drank by a son of the same brood. Possessed by the taint, he marches to different sections of the world, conquering and destroying everything in his path as a cloak of midnight pulls itself over all things. The great foretelling of LaStaudd the Wise, the age of the Rising Flame.
Genre – Epic Fantasy
Publisher – Outskirts Press
Release Date – May 30, 2012
Purchase Link – http://outskirtspress.com/midnightscloak/
Midnight’s Cloak is the first part of a ten book epic fantasy series. The series takes place within the timeframe of a decade. Midnight’s Cloak is world building Epic fantasy and contains maps an appendix and a glossary. As far as the type of fiction I write, i would say it’s similar to Robert Jordan, David Farland and Terry Goodkind. Midnight’s Cloak is 361 pages. There is a lot of charicter development early on in the story. Also there is romance and I write a lot of battle sequences. My map is rather small on the paperback so i always recommend a pdf ebook because you can zoom in on the map to see places. It is also cheaper and I earn a larger royalty for it. Midnight’s Cloak is edited and proofread. Outskirts Press E-book 5 dollars amazon search inside the book available soon.
A little over a month ago Lot had had a dream. He was standing in a field with a forest to one side of him and a cabin to the other. The samurai had dreamt before, but none were as detailed as the one he’d witnessed that night. In the yard, a girl was digging a grave. Lot walked down an embankment and watched her for a moment. There were tears in her eyes and dirt on her gown. In the graves were the bodies of a man and a woman.
The girl digging the grave looked up at him. She had the most beautiful brown eyes he’d ever seen. They were bewitching and yet soft.
“Could you please help me?” she asked. The samurai sensed danger around him.
“This is just a dream,” Lot said.
She dropped her shovel, squatted to the earth and came up with a handful of soil that she put in his hand.
“I’m in Terrid,” she said, “six hundred fifty miles northeast of Andalar.” Eyes opening, Lot found himself in his sleeping quarters. He had a handful of dirt clutched in his palm. This girl was real. The place that she had spoken of he had never heard of. But the dirt Lot brought back with him and his instincts were all that the man needed. Quietly, Lot put on his sandals, slid the door to his room open and went down the hall, where he slid another door open into the dojo. Then he went outside. How Lot had managed to leave without waking Ogami he did not know; the man’s ears were sharp. Crossing the yard he entered the stable, threw a saddle on tracker his master’s quickest horse, and rode for Andalar.
On Lot’s way north he’d stopped at an inn close to Andalar. The samurai was exhausted. He’d ridden for nine hours, and Tracker needed a good rest. After paying the stable boy to feed and rub down Tracker, he went to the inn where he’d chosen a round table in the far corner of the room. Shortly after Lot had ordered his first drink, a stranger burst into the room, raving like a lunatic about Prince Raziel drinking from the blood of the ten Clonan after poisoning and killing his father, king Tarnoll. The man claimed that a civil war had broken out between the king’s loyalists and Raziel’s men. As quickly as he had entered the inn, the stranger left as if on an important mission. Lot approached the innkeeper and asked if the stranger was one to spread rumors. The innkeeper had told him that he had known the man his whole life and he was as honest as they came. Lot tossed a few coins on the table and retired for the evening.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Justin E. Geary lives in western Maryland where he spends his time reading various authors and exploring different subjects. In addition to fiction he enjoys history and some science. He is the nephew of 1942 Pulitzer Prize winner Laurence Edmond Allen. Justin’s hobbies are chess, pool and writing epic fantasy. He started reading Edgar Allen Poe with interest at the age of sixteen and started writing screenplays at the age of nineteen. Screenplays were unfulfilling for Justin because they lacked depth. Later on he wrote his first novel at twenty-one and Midnight’s Cloak his second at twenty-four. After finishing the rough draft Justin decided that Fantasy was his escape from the world. Without a college education Justin decided to seek editorial help sinking twenty-one hundred dollars of his own money into the editing and proofing of his manuscript. Justin calls the expense a small price for something he loves so dearly.