Title: The Pact
Author: Graeme Brown
Published: May 2013
Publisher: Champagne Book Group
Word Count: 17,000
Genre: Dark Epic Fantasy
Recommended Age: 12+
Synopsis:
Enter the world of Will Lesterall, a boy who’s grown up in the safety of his father’s castle.
Tales of the outside world ruled by warring kings and creatures of nightmare have never seemed a threat, yet on the night celebrating two hundred years of the sacred Pact that has kept Fort Lesterall safe, intrigues ripen, and in the course of a few hours Will is confronted with a choice greater than he can comprehend.
Join an unlikely hero as destiny pulls him into the middle of an ancient conflict between fallen gods and ambitious women, one that demands blood, both holy and wicked, and the power of an ancient fire bound in steel. As swords clash below a watching wood, hope and betrayal war as fiercely as fear and valor.
Whether he lives or dies, Will Lesterall will never be the same.
Will felt a hand on his shoulder.
“Lie down,” the woman cooed.
The blade glowed like the moon through its sheen of blood and Will obeyed slowly, feeling the stone’s icy kiss against the back of his neck. He cursed himself in his mind, but the voice had no power. That was your only chance. You’re dead now. There’s no stopping her.
He still shook with grief, his whole body cold. He saw Robin and the fear in his brother’s eyes. The pain. Will wanted to run, but his body wouldn’t move. Finally, he closed his eyes, whimpering, folding up his legs and turning on his side.
He waited and waited, but the moment didn’t come. He waited more, before finally summoning the courage to open his eyes...
Every time I visited my grandmother as a child, I would spend time in front of the bookshelf. She had an exotic collection of books—Shel Silverstein’s Where the Sidewalk Ends, a fifty-year-old medical reference book, and Beezus and Ramona. One of them was tiny, and it had lots of words that I couldn’t read, but I enjoyed opening it up and looking at the maps inside. The Hobbit, it said, a book with a faded cover and picture of a dragon on a pile of gold.
Excerpt
“Lie down,” the woman cooed.
The blade glowed like the moon through its sheen of blood and Will obeyed slowly, feeling the stone’s icy kiss against the back of his neck. He cursed himself in his mind, but the voice had no power. That was your only chance. You’re dead now. There’s no stopping her.
He still shook with grief, his whole body cold. He saw Robin and the fear in his brother’s eyes. The pain. Will wanted to run, but his body wouldn’t move. Finally, he closed his eyes, whimpering, folding up his legs and turning on his side.
He waited and waited, but the moment didn’t come. He waited more, before finally summoning the courage to open his eyes...
THE THREE MASTERS OF FANTASY, by Graeme
Brown
Every time I visited my grandmother as a child, I would spend time in front of the bookshelf. She had an exotic collection of books—Shel Silverstein’s Where the Sidewalk Ends, a fifty-year-old medical reference book, and Beezus and Ramona. One of them was tiny, and it had lots of words that I couldn’t read, but I enjoyed opening it up and looking at the maps inside. The Hobbit, it said, a book with a faded cover and picture of a dragon on a pile of gold.
I would spend hours in front of that
shelf over the years to come. Night when I was sick, I’d hover over the
humidifier and flip through the books. As I got older, I looked at the pictures
in this book called The Hobbit, and
wondered what it was about.
I was a late-bloomer not just to
fantasy, but to reading. I started with horror, but nothing ever held my
interest. It wasn’t until I was a teenager that I picked up a fantasy book and
realized I loved it. Finally, my eye turned not just to The Hobbit, but to Lord of
the Rings and the works of this guy named J.R.R. Tolkien.
Just like that, the engine inside Graeme
Brown started chugging, and out came the stories. By the time I was an adult, I
had a stack of paper that was half my height (most of it abandoned starts). With
Tolkien came a love for maps and discovering other worlds. I tried
others—Goodkind, Brooks, Dennis L. McKiernan—but it was Robert Jordan who
brought me into the present day of fantasy.
Tolkien hinted at what it meant to write
an epic. Robert Jordan went in and dared to dream without relent. When he
passed away I was devastated. With each book, Mr. Jordan peeled back yet
another layer, a series of Russian Dolls that took us closer and closer, deeper
and deeper. His work was a perfect blend of endless imagination and mystic
realism, and with his departure, I felt this light he showed us was forever
gone.
My own writing turned from beginnings
into unshapely novels—the first bad pancakes. I was reluctant to start a third,
until I met the third master of fantasy, one who dared me not just to dream,
but to seek realism to fantasy unlike I’d ever considered. I’m talking about
George R. R. Martin.
I’d say Mr. Martin helped me find my
voice. It was not his style or his work that had this effect on me. No, it was
a live reading of his. I observed the way he paused before reading, the way he
shifted slightly and became...something else. When the story commenced, he was
living it. That made such an impression on me I realized this was what was
lacking still in my writing. I started to read my work aloud, to see it not
just as music, but as a sort of life of its own. Shortly after this, The Pact
was born, a story whose germ was shaped in my mind for more than a decade, a
blend of evolving ideas and approaching to writing, a thing that finally
worked.
My grandmother has passed away, and that
apartment where I once crouched before the bookcase is gone. But sometimes,
when I write, I take a moment to close my eyes and imagine I’m there again. If
only I’d known where that little book would have led me, as I pored over its
pages, full of intrigue and wonder—as only a child can.
If only I’d known; and here I am now,
grown up, but a child nonetheless, staring at maps and stories, daring to
venture into their terrain, to discover their secrets, to take the journey into
one place where I will never be the same.
About the Author:
Graeme Brown has been enchanted by the epic fantasy genre since he was a child, and consequently he started creating his own world with its stories at the age of thirteen. Influenced by writers like J.R.R. Tolkien, Robert Jordan, and George R. R. Martin, he has finally brought the first of those stories to life with his debut title, a short story called The Pact—48 pages that will whisk you away to a dark, medieval fantasy world with gritty realism. When he’s not writing, he can be found exploring number theory problems or writing computer programs, training for a marathon, or unwinding in a yoga hot room. He has also explored other facets of art, both as a hobby and a profession, including vector graphics, pen and ink, classical piano, and web design. He just finished writing the first of many sequels to The Pact, A Thousand Roads.
Giveaway Details:
There is a tour wide giveaway. Prizes include the following:
- GRAND PRIZE: One winner will receive 5 surprise fantasy eBooks from Champagne Book Group.
Giveaway is International.
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