Fantasy | New Adudlt
Everyone begins their life dreaming of the great person they could become, only to have those hopes battered and broken by the world around them. The world tells them they’re not special. Family convinces them to abandon their goals for the safe route, the sure route.
Loren has been born to cruel parents and raised in an obscure village. She’s long resigned herself to an unremarkable life under the sway of a father who beats her and a mother who sees her only as means to a dowry. Loren’s dreams have almost burnt out—until fate rekindles their spark into a flame that will consume the world.
SOMETIMES ALL WE NEED IS A PUSH.
When Loren meets the fugitive wizard Xain, she dares to hope again. Escaping her village, she finds the nine kingdoms more complicated and dangerous than she could have imagined. But at long last, she’s ready to face the challenge or die in the attempt.
Loren has reclaimed her dreams—this time for good. Armed with only her wit and her courage, she will do anything to become the woman she’s always wanted to be: Nightblade, the most renowned thief in all the land.
Nightblade Special Offer
From November 10th through November 14th, you can pick up Nightblade, the first book of the Nightblade Volumes, for only $0.99 on Kindle! What’s more — if you finish and review Nightblade, I’ll send you a FREE ebook copy of Mystic, the second book in the series! Just fill out the form at http://garrettbrobinson.com/free-mystic.
99 cents and a review — two books. It doesn’t get much better than that.
Loren imagined she could feel her father’s eyes on her back as she ran. Her steps came faster and faster still, but soon Xain began to tire and flag behind her. She had to slow her pace to match him, and every step seemed an irredeemable loss.
“You must hurry,” she said. “He will find us.”
Xain did not bother with an answer. He could move no faster, and they both knew it. After a time his ankle caught upon a protruding root and he stumbled, and in that moment her father struck.
He leapt from the shadows between two thick oaks. His hand lashed out, cracking against Loren’s cheek. She fell to the ground with a cry and struggled up before he could pin her down. But he did not come for her. When she rose she saw him atop Xain instead, wrapping an arm around the thinner man’s throat. Xain’s face turned red and edged toward purple. He fought to bring a hand around, scrabbling for her father’s face, but her father caught the hand and twisted it, prompting a screech of agony.
Hearing that cry of pain, Loren’s mind turned to ice. Never had her father hurt another in her presence—except when he fought her mother, and Loren only wanted each to hurt the other as much as possible. But now her father threatened to crush the life from her one chance, the only man who Loren had ever truly thought could save her from the life of pain and obscurity she feared.
Icy rage turned white-hot, and Loren drew the dagger. She leapt at her father with the blade held high. But her father saw her coming and released Xain, scrabbling to his knees and away from her wild swing.
He rose and roared like a bear brought to bay. The sound dampened Loren’s sudden burst of fury, and she hesitated a moment. That moment was enough, and like a snake her father lunged. One hand gripped her wrist to hold the dagger helpless. His other hand curled into a fist that he drove into her face.
Stars erupted at the edge of her vision, and Loren doubled over. Her father squeezed her wrist until the dagger dropped to the grass, then let her follow it. She gasped at the pain in her eye, blinking as she fought to clear her vision.
“Spawn of soiled seed,” said her father. “You have been a plague and a pox upon me since the day you first clawed air into your lungs.”
He kicked her. The hard leather of his boots felt like a tree trunk. She screamed, trying to roll away, but he only kicked her in the back.
She could not see. She could not think. Where was she? Who was this man, and why did he want to hurt her so? Why did some part of her mind scream that he should love her, pick her up and cradle her in his arms and promise to take the pain away? Instead he only gave her more.
Her eyes fell on Xain, who crouched several yards away. The wizard’s lips moved, and his eyes began to glow. He held a hand curled at his side, and Loren saw the flash of fire within it.
“No!” she cried. “Don’t kill him!”
Xain froze. His lips stopped moving, and the fire wisped out in his palm.
The shout drew her father’s gaze. His ugly, beady eyes fell on the wizard, and his lips split in a grimace, revealing spots of blood.
He leapt catlike upon Xain and bore the wizard to the ground. This time he wrapped his hands around Xain’s throat, digging his fingers in deep. Xain’s eyes bugged forth as though they would burst from their sockets. He gasped a phrase, and blue lightning sprang into being, but it vanished before he could unleash it.
Loren’s heart broke. Xain would not have been here if not for her. He might have died on the way to Cabrus, and he might not. But she had brought him to this place and then brought her father’s wrath, and now Xain would die for it.
She could not allow it. She saw the dagger lying near her fingers, and thought of her childish dreams. Nightblade could not allow it.
She fought to her knees. Her bow still hung on her back, and by some grace of the gods its string was whole. Her fingers felt like wood, but she forced them around the bow’s haft and pulled it free. Shakily she brought an arrow to string and half-drew, then took two stumbling steps forward. This time her father had eyes for nothing but Xain.
Loren kicked as hard as she could, and something in her father’s face broke under her boot heel.
He fell away, rolling over and over to put distance between them as he screamed in rage. In a blink he regained his feet, but there he paused. Loren’s arrow rested at full draw, aiming straight for his heart.
Slowly, her father’s hamfist hands came up on either side of his head. For every inch they climbed, the fury in his eyes redoubled.
“No more,” said Loren. It came out as a whisper. “No more will you torment me. I am leaving, father, and I mean never to return.”
“You mean to defy me?” said her father. “You will do your duty as a daughter or—”
She pulled just a little harder on the bow, gaining another inch of draw. Her father’s voice fell to silence.
“You have never done your duty as a father,” she said. “I feel I owe you nothing.”
“You owe me everything,” he said. “I could have killed you in the cradle. I could have killed you when I woke up today, and moved my bowel on your corpse. I made you, and now I see I made you worthless.”
“Then when I leave you shall suffer no great loss,” she said.
She felt that his words should have stung, but she was beyond them. They were only a stronger flavor of the same things he had said all her life. And in this moment, now that another fate beckoned her, she stood under his sway no longer.
Xain had finally regained his breath, and he came to stand at her side. He muttered, and as his eyes glowed white a ball of lightning hovered in his grasp.
“You think you can escape me?” her father said, changing tack. “I learned these lands years before I spilled you between your mother’s legs. Nowhere in Selvan can you hide from me. Ready yourself for sleepless nights by a bright fire. For if you close your eyes in sleep, if for even a moment you let yourself sit in darkness—”
Loren loosed the shaft. It sank into her father’s thigh. He collapsed to the ground without a scream, but with a gut-deep grunt of pain.
“Chase us now,” said Loren.
She turned and walked away from him, stopping for only a moment to retrieve the dagger and replace it in its sheath. She did not turn to see if Xain followed her, but after a moment she heard footfalls behind her.
Her father’s hateful screams followed them for a long while.
Interesting Information about Nightblade
The Nightblade Volumes are a WEEKLY serial — I publish a new 10,000 word episode every Friday at 12:00pm PST. Every eight episodes compose one book, which is published as a complete work in ebook and paperback.
Nightblade is the first book in the series. The second book is Mystic. Those who like Nightblade, and want to keep reading, can go review it on Amazon. If they fill out the form at http://garrettbrobinson.com/free-mystic, I’ll send them an ebook copy of Mystic for FREE.
Readers can also subscribe to the series. For ebook enthusiasts, this is THE CHEAPEST way to read! Pay $2.99 a month, and I’ll send you an episode every week — TWO WEEKS before it’s published to Amazon! It’s cheaper than buying the episodes individually, and it’s even cheaper than buying the volumes!
You can check that out at http://garrettbrobinson.com/nb-sub
Nightblade is a very special story to me. It comes to me so easily because I feel like I’ve only recently emerged from my own personal journey into adulthood. Though the setting, the place, and the person are different, this is MY story.
I love that the coming of age story is so universal, that you can put it in any setting and any genre and it still works. It doesn’t matter that Harry went to Hogwarts and cast spells (although that was cool). What mattered was that he suffered through what we ALL suffer through — that terrible, wonderful time between childhood and adulthood, when you don’t really know what’s going on and you’re trying to figure it all out.
Loren, the main character of Nightblade, is going through the same thing. Loren has dreams. BIG dreams, dreams she’s never given up on no matter what. Her parents have beaten her and told her she’s worthless. The world has tried to convince her that her goals are hopeless. But the spark won’t die.
I think we’ve all been there at one point. Haven’t you? Some people give up. Who can blame them? It’s a cruel world. It’s certainly easier to give up, to go with the flow. I legitimately cannot fault someone who chooses to do that.
To be perfectly honest, it’s not worth it to keep fighting. You will suffer so much. You will go through so much pain and lose so much that is dear to you. Only the mad even attempt it, because only a tiny portion of them will ever succeed. The rest will die broken and alone in the corners and back alleys of the world.
And yet, we do love the stories about the ones who win.
Garrett Robinson was born in Los Angeles, California. Throughout his childhood and into adulthood, he was encouraged to learn by his parents, who not only ensured he had access to thousands of books whenever he wanted, but who traveled with him around the world and helped him do so once he was out in the world on his own. Throughout high school, Garrett excelled in creative writing, churning out millions of words and far surpassing all of his classmates.
After school, Garrett discovered a love of, and has had a budding career in the independent film industry. In today’s digital age, however, he has discoverd that new creative models are necessary to succeed. To that end, he has begun turning all of his film ideas into self-published books, in hopes of drumming up support and readership for the stories he has created.
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When did you start writing?
I began writing as a teenager, scribbling fan fiction from my favorite science fiction and fantasy stories. But it took my mother’s passing at the age of 25 to convince me that if I didn’t try, honest to God, to make it as an artist, then it would never happen.
I published my first book in December of 2012, and since then I’ve put out more than a million words in fantasy, sci-fi, thrillers, comedy and horror.
I don’t plan on stopping.
What inspires your writing?
I think the most exciting phrase a writer can ever utter is, “Hey, wouldn’t it be cool if…?”
Ideas are all around us. Sometimes they come from things we wish we saw in the world more often. Sometimes they’re just things that are really, really cool. A girl who sees thoughts when she makes skin contact. A guy who becomes a zombie, but can still think. Kids who become wizards in another world when they sleep. A girl who wants to make it in the big time — but in a fantasy setting.
No idea is a bad story idea. Find out what’s important to you, and construct a story around that.
What is the best part about being a writer?
Anyone who’s published a book knows what a rush it is to hear from your readers. The best writers write from inspiration. They write the sort of story that THEY would want to read. There’s nothing more gratifying than hearing, from a complete stranger no less, that they were personally touched by your book.