A New Realistic Fantasy Epic, A Sweeping Tale of Courage and Sacrifice

Hello!

After almost seven years of writing and re-writing and screaming and re-writing again, I am pleased to announce the publishing of my FIRST NOVEL, the sweeping fantasy epic, The Redemption of Brian O'Connor!

For those of you who know me, you know how long and tortuous this process has been. Writing a book is not easy, and writing one while being a dad of two babies and working a full-time job doesn't help. Yet still, by the grace of God, the greatest American realistic fantasy novel is complete! I have shunned the tropes of traditional fantasy to bring you a new kind of epic, one devoid of magic and magical creatures, the narrative driven only by the struggles of men (and women) and the conflicts they face.

A tale of courage and sacrifice, The Redemption of Brian O'Connor is a riveting account of one man's journey set in a vibrant world populated by rich and engaging characters. A story of camaraderie, loyalty, and battle, The Redemption of Brian O'Connor will provide the epic tale you are looking for! The first in a trilogy, be on the lookout for the next two installments!

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In case you need more than the words of the author himself, please check out the sample chapter below!

Chapter 1

“Six of them. Damn.” His whisper was carried away by the storm that pounded around him. His thick cloak whipped against the wind as he looked at the soldiers searching the town for him. The rain that fell was bitterly cold. A few weeks earlier and this would have been a blizzard. Yet winter was ending and spring was coming, so the rains came too.

The packed earth of the road was thick with mud, the rainwater running in rivulets down the street. In the dark of night the roads were empty. It was too early for the taverns to close and the storm kept good people inside. None were out in this rain save himself and the six soldiers who hunted him.

He could see them, searching door-to-door, lanterns straining against the darkness. They were dressed as Imperial soldiers of Elriol. The pommels of their longswords hung low, visible under their deep blue cloaks. The white eagle and shield stood out on their tunics as they slogged through the muddy street to the next house.

He hissed. They were persistent. They had been following him since Rothgard, no doubt to collect the bounty on his head. There was little he could do now to outrun them. The sudden storm had seen to that.

The road through Delgard to the north was rendered nearly unusable in this deluge. It was waterlogged and nearly impassable, the mud far too deep to walk. He had to find shelter from the storm. If the elements did not kill him, the soldiers certainly would.

He turned and struggled through the deep mud. The squelching sound his boots made was swallowed up by the winter gale as he headed for the nearest building. A sign swung violently in the winds; a dark green lion rearing over a full mug. It was a tavern.

He managed to get to the door, the storm nearly opening it for him. Immediately, he saw the looks from those inside as the rain and wind poured its chill into the tavern. Quickly closing the door, he shook the water from his cloak and removed his hood. His curly red hair, long and pulled back, was matted and wet. He wiped some loose strands from his face, rubbing his cheeks to bring warmth back to them. The stubble that hugged his jaw felt rough on his hands. He had not shaved in a while.

He held his belongings; a simple bundle and a walking stick, and walked towards the bar-top. Though a few denizens gave him curious looks, it was not long before the conversations picked back up and the people turned back to their drinks. Among these people here, he should be safe. The soldiers outside would not think that he would shelter here, or at least he hoped so.

“Herzlich willkommen!” He looked up to see the tavernkeep waving to him. The greeting was in Halessian, which was not surprising. Delgard was an old city of Halessia, before the Empire of Elriol had conquered it. Though people here spoke Elrian, the common tongue, they still held on to the old language.

“I am sorry, good tavernkeep.” The man said in Elrian, his accent lilting. “I do not speak that tongue.” He approached the bar-top and took an empty seat.

The tavernkeep, a portly, moustached man, waved his hand, dismissing the apology. Speaking in Elrian with a Halessian accent, the tavernkeep said, “Oh no, it is my fault. I assumed that you were a local.” Clearing his throat, he said, “Welcome to the Emerald Lion, good sir. My name is Ortwin, and this is my tavern. What is your name, friend?” His smile wide and welcoming, the tavernkeep leaned against the bar.

The man hesitated. Names were dangerous. He thought for a moment before responding, “My name is an old one, from the Isles of Inisfall. In Elrian it is hard to pronounce. You would not remember it.”

“Inisfall? So you are Inisfain then?” Ortwin’s smile widened. “Very good, herr Inisfain. I will call you this, then.”

The Inisfain nodded. It was acceptable. He wished no harm to Ortwin or his establishment, and his real name would bring trouble to the tavernkeep here. The Inisfain bore no ill will against the people of Elriol, only against those who ruled it.

“Good tavernmaster, I need a place to wait out this storm before I continue my travels. Do you have a room available?” He looked around the tavern. The tables were full of people. “From the looks of the place here, you may not.”

“Oh no, no, these are just locals spending their evening in good company.” Ortwin laughed. “They will be going home, at least most of them.”

“Then you have rooms?”

“Yes, my friend. We have rooms. Would you like a meal as well? My wife is an excellent cook.” Ortwin nodded.

The Inisfain’s stomach growled. He had not eaten a good meal in many days. Scraps stolen from empty tables did little to fuel his journey. It was not that he had no money, rather he did not wish to bring suspicion on innocent people. Anyone he was near to would find themselves in danger.

However it would do no good to perish from starvation, either. Nodding, the Inisfain asked for bread and stew. In quick order, a bowl of steaming pork stew and a fresh cut of bread were placed before him. After so many weeks on the road, the taste of good food was rejuvenating.

The tavernkeep could see as much. Chuckling, he said, “It must have been some time since you ate, my friend.”

Nodding, through bites, the Inisfain said, “Yes, good tavernmaster. I have been on the road for many days, traveling up from Latia in the south. To visit a friend.”

A local man who was sitting beside the Inisfain heard this and interjected. He was clearly not on his first mug as he slurred, “Latia? Ah, I feel as though it is nothing more than a legend! It has been too long since we have received any word from the south. The Madman sees to that.” The last words were spat in disgust.

The Inisfain took a sip of his stew to cover his surprise. The drunken man’s words were a death sentence. Calling the Emperor of Elriol “the Madman” was a crime punishable by death, not only for this man but for his family as well. Emperor Durgen did not tolerate the nickname given to him by his enemies. No matter how well deserved.

The tavernkeep looked nervously to the Inisfain at the man’s words. He urged the drunken man to change the subject. With an undertone of warning, Ortwin said, “Hush now, Karls. We are amongst friends here, but words spoken often carry beyond the ears of those who hear them.”

With a sloppy wave Karls dismissed the tavernkeep’s warning. Emboldened by his first words, he continued. “All I’m saying is that we were better off before, when the good Kaesers ruled us. Do you understand what I say? Now we have this dummkopf from the Three Hills-”

“Enough, Karls.” Ortwin was smiling but his words were firm. “Be quiet and go home. Herta is waiting for you.”

Karls mumbled something about home and stumbled towards the door. Another local gave him a shoulder for support and helped the drunken man out of the tavern, the storm still pounding outside. The Inisfain watched him go. He knew that many in Halessia cared little for the Emperor, but to see such open hate against him was unexpected.

Ortwin nervously smiled and said, “Pay no mind to him, my friend. Karls lost his son last summer and he blames Elriol for it. When he drinks his tongue does get loose.”

“It is sad a story that I have heard too often, good tavernmaster. Do not worry, I do not begrudge a father his grief.” The Inisfain said. In truth, he was happy to see such simmering hate for Elriol within her borders. He himself held no love for the Emperor, not least of all because he was being hunted.

Turning back to the tavernkeep, the Inisfain asked again about a room. Specifically, he wanted the smallest room available.

“Good friend from Inisfall, we have many rooms here. You need not take the smallest. I can give you a larger one for the same price.” Ortwin said, confused.

“Good tavernmaster, it is not the price that I am worried about.” The Inisfain said, looking towards the door.

The tavernkeep understood. He leaned closer and asked discreetly, “Are you in trouble, my friend?”

“It is safer if you do not know, good tavernkeep. All I need is a small room and your discretion.” The Inisfain said. He was being honest; should anything happen here then the tavernkeep could be held responsible.

The tavernkeep nodded and produced a room key. “Second from the end, on the left.”

Thanking him, the Inisfain dropped a few copper coins for the meal and took his effects. The rooms were up a flight of stairs off of the main tavern, built over the barn next to the tavern. It would be a safe place to sleep, for if escape was necessary he could always break into the barn below.

Not a moment after he had stepped onto the second level, the door to the tavern flew open. The Inisfain crouched low and peered into the main tavern from the top of the stairs. He could not see the door but the sight of the stomping boots of the six Elrian soldiers appeared quickly.

Hissing a curse, he hid from view in the hallway. He had hoped the six soldiers would have left this place alone, for it was far too public to be a hiding place for a wanted man. Apparently, his luck was not so good.

A smooth voice sounded over the crashing of mugs and tables as the soldiers moved through the tavern. “An enemy of the Empire is here. An Inisfain from Latia. Give him to us now, or your lives will be forfeit.”

Ortwin responded, fear heavy in his voice. “M-my lord, what do you mean? We are all good people here and-”

“Silence, peasant!” The smooth voice spat. That must be the captain. The Inisfain had seen him before, his smooth-shaven face and tailored eyebrows spoke of privilege. It was no wonder his voice was so arrogant.

Still, it was only six Elrian soldiers against a tavern full of Halessians. From the grumbles that sounded, it seemed that the tenants there did not care for the captain’s tone.

The captain must have sensed this as well, as his tactics changed. With a hiss of steel, he drew his sword and said, “You, come here.”

The Inisfain heard Orwtin protest and then whimper. The captain spoke again, “I will cut his throat if someone does not tell me where the Inisfain dog is.”

The Inisfain cursed under his breath. He wished no harm on the people here, least of all the friendly tavernkeep. Clenching his fists, he loosened his twin daggers in their scabbards, snug underneath his armpits. If it was to be a fight, he would move to spare as many townspeople as he could.

It was not to be though. After a moment of silence, the Inisfain heard someone say, “He’s upstairs.”

A thump and the sound of Ortwin gasping in relief told the Inisfain that he had not been harmed. The captain spoke again, his voice threatening and cold. “Out. Everyone!”

Five more blades were drawn, the hiss of steel on leather unmistakable. The tavern emptied. Soon, only the sound of six pairs of boots could be heard. They were heading for the stairs.

Suddenly, the captain spoke again. “No, not you, peasant. You are under arrest for treason. Once we deal with the Inisfain, we will come back for you.” It was directed towards the tavernkeep.

The Inisfain heard Ortwin stammer out a terrified response. “M-my lord, please, I-I did not know-“

The sound of metal on flesh and Ortwin cried out in pain. The captain growled, “I said silence! We will deal with you shortly, traitor.”

The Inisfain cursed again. It was what he had feared, these people were in danger simply by showing him kindness. Gritting his teeth, he slipped down the hall and entered the room Ortwin had given him.

The captain and his soldiers would not be returning to carry out their threat. The Inisfain would make sure of that.

--- END OF SAMPLE ---

The book is available now at CreateSpace.com (an Amazon company) and is now available as a Kindle eBook! I still can't believe that I wrote this and remained sane!

Tell everyone you know!

~N.H. Roncolato

#Fantasy #Novel #Epic #Tolkien #Kurosawa