Today, I have the pleasure of hosting Michelle Franklin, author of The Haanta Series. Folks, I’ve read these books, and the writing is absolutely fantastic. I can’t say enough good things about this writer. Really.
The Haanta Series is the longest, ongoing, online romantic fantasy series. Thousands of readers visit the world of the Two Continents to enjoy the daily short stories featuring all their favorite characters from the Haanta Series novels. In between the business of the books, the commander, Rautu, Otenohi, Unghaahi, Leraa, Kai Linaa and Alasdair enjoy some time together in Diras Castle, but as the stories portray, mischief lies in every corner of the keep where spiders, chocolate pies, petulant giants and grouchy cooks abound.
Follow along the read-along!
June 4 — Part One @ Moonlight Gleam’s Bookshelf
June 6 — Part Two @ mkempher.com
June 9 — Part Three @ Turner’s Antics
June 16 — Part Four @ Evolved World
How Bryeison Broke the Latrine
MacMillian slumped and sprawled across the sward when he was at last released from the giant’s unassailable grip. A cough and a few sputtering breaths, and he was prepared to run from his attacker when a sword was thrown beside him and he was being ordered to take it up and fight. He did as he was bid, wanting the duel to be over and his limbs to be still attached, but the moment he took up the sword and raised his eyes, the raging tranquility of the giant, his furrowed brow, his determined look, his unmitigated might, his enormous muscle made his knees tremble. Terror prevailed him, the giant’s shadow poring over him granting him a something like crippling consternation, and he began to feel as though he had been wrong in his conjecture, that perhaps there had been a reason that the immense Varrallan with the latrine wall attached to his arm was chosen as First Captain over himself. He felt perhaps an apology was in order if Bryeison was to be his superior officer, but the commander had given him an order, and Bryeison must and would obey: he was to return in such a state that would send him to the cleric, and therefore with all the remorse that condemning himself could promise, he made his peace with the Gods and lifted his sword.
One downward swipe from Bryeison secured MacMillian’s defeat: with a bellowing roar, the giant had made so fierce an attack that the moment his edge met MacMillian’s fuller, the blade bent under Bryeison’s brawn, snapped in two, and fell to the ground, leaving MacMillian screaming in agony and grabbing his shattered hand. He crumbled to his knees, begged for mercy, and Bryeison shook off the wall around his wrist and placed his sword at his side.
“You can dislike me and condemn my merits,” the giant’s voice bellowed, “but if you ever breathe a treasonous word again, I will destroy you.”
“Yessir!” MacMillian cried, in a sibilating shriek.
Bryeison nodded, accepted his opponent’s capitulation for what it was, and the challenge was over. He lifted his prey from the ground, slung him over his shoulder, and brought him to the infirmary, hearing his commander’s approbation of “Aye, lad brought it on hissel’,” as he sat MacMillian in the cleric’s chair.
“His thumb and forefinger are broken,” he told the cleric. “His wrist might be fractured as well.”
The cleric examined MacMillian’s hand and quirked a brow. “How did this happen?” he asked, wondering at the mangled hand. “Some incredible weight must have been forced on your hand for your thumb to have broken like that. Did you fall on it?”
MacMillian whimpered and shook his head.
“Was something dropped on it?”
No answer was made.
“Very well,” the cleric sighed. “If you don’t want to tell me. I’m sure it must have something to do with the broken latrine wall. The whole thing is probably humiliating enough. I will never understand what prompts you young men to do foolish things. You deserved it, I’m sure, whatever it was.”
A look between the two soldiers was exchanged, and without another word, the cleric began to reform MacMillian’s shattered bones, and Bryeison returned to the field, smiling to himself and flexing his fists as he took his place in the lines.
Blog Tour Schedule/Link: http://wp.me/p30w17-5w
About the Author
Michelle Franklin is a small woman of moderate consequence who writes many, many books about giants, romance, and chocolate.
Purchase Michelle’s Books at Amazon http://viewBook.at/B00BLGQJUM, Barnes and Noble http://bit.ly/WXSeaB, iTunes http://bit.ly/Zn3fQh, Kobo http://bit.ly/13nPhmh, and Smashwords http://bit.ly/YzMm4m
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