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    The Wailing Willow: The Tomes of Brynjar, #0
    The Wailing Willow: The Tomes of Brynjar, #0
    The Wailing Willow: The Tomes of Brynjar, #0
    Ebook99 pages1 hour

    The Wailing Willow: The Tomes of Brynjar, #0

    By Brian Cary

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    About this ebook

    Wulfric only wanted a cold beverage, a warm meal, and a hot tavern-maiden to pine over, instead he was trapped in a dungeon, surrounded by evil, and precariously low on torch-light.

    In a world filled with snobbish elves and magical dangers, the Wailing Willow Tavern was supposed to be a warm reprieve during a cold winter journey. But Wulfric does what he always does—he gets himself into more trouble than his brother Dainn can keep him out of. Things escalate quickly as Wulfric, Dainn, and a grumpy dwarf named Angus are unwittingly thrust into an ancient mystery with sinister consequences.

    A tenacious evil, which refuses to die, demands its ambitions be fulfilled, and it will sacrifice anyone to get what it wants. The lives of innocent humans, halflings, dwarves and elves hang in the balance. Yet death may not be the worst thing they face.

    Inglorious heroes and bad decisions. What could go wrong?

    "Brian Cary knows how to write fantasy—intriguing characters, lots of action, and fun, quirky story telling. You'll read 'just one more chapter' until you've lost hours of sleep just to find out what happens next."

    --Ema Nymton

    The Wailing Willow, the first novel in this series by Brian Cary, is an entertaining romp though the fantasy genre. As an introduction to the fantasy series, The Tomes of Brynjar, The Wailing Willow introduces readers to the exploits of fascinating characters in a medieval fantasy universe through an absorbing storyline and humorous narration.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBrian Cary
    Release dateFeb 13, 2019
    ISBN9781386196976
    The Wailing Willow: The Tomes of Brynjar, #0
    Author

    Brian Cary

    Brian Cary is a cunning and witty novelist who writes primarily in the fantasy genre. He graduated college in 1991 with a degree in electronics where his college years were spent writing stories when he was supposed to be learning circuitry and Ohm’s law. College professors sometimes allowed him to turn in fictionalized stories to satisfy composition requirements. Brian is often labeled eccentric because of his obsession over abstruse and arcane vocabulary as well as an addiction to intriguing stories, both of which influence his writing. Originally viewing fiction as a hobby and not a profession, Brian spent many years working in IT and management before fully embracing fantasy writing. Before becoming an author, Brian heavily criticized Gandalf and Dumbledore for their practically non-interventionist policies compared to their capabilities. Brian lives in the woods near a small town in northwest Ohio with his wife, five sprog, and a dancing cow named Buttercup. In his spare time, he enjoys dungeon-crawler video games and is an avid 3D artist. Want exclusive posts and reader rewards? Subscribe or leave a tip! visit https://www.subscribestar.com/briancarybooks Also find him here: Homepage: http://briancarybooks.com Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/TheWriteBrianCary Instagram at https://www.instagram.com/TheWriteBrianCary/

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      Book preview

      The Wailing Willow - Brian Cary

      Acknowledgments

      I have always loved the fantasy genre. In a way, I owe a gift of thanks to Tolkien for birthing the entire genus, and showing everyone how high-fantasy should be done.

      As I wrote The Wailing Willow, I shared the story and ideas with my teen-age boys and my little girl. I read them chapters as I completed them. It amazed me to watch them engage in the story and the characters. They did not expect to laugh. I made them laugh. I surprised them, outraged them with the twists and turns. I left them hanging at each chapter break, demanding what would happen next.

      Their feedback and input was invaluable to the story, but not as much as the joy I received from seeing their faces light up as they experienced the tale. I would like to thank Seth, Gabriel, Cameron, Rourke, and Lilly for being the best kids I could have hoped for, and for all the happiness they’ve brought into my life.

      Special thanks to the many test-readers who put up with my incessant pestering, Did you read it? Did you read it? Friendships may have been tested, but when I needed friends to lean on, you were there for me. Your responses and input made this a better book. Thank you’s to Big-Mike, David, Brett, Isaac, and several others too shy to be mentioned.

      I also need to express thanks to my beautiful editor and wife for her never-ending, tireless support. I also want to thank her for removing the extra commas, putting up with the gross and creepy ‘monstery’ parts, finding the dangling participles, and putting up with my grammar defying writer’s voice in this genre. I don’t know how one woman can be both a grammar-nazi and a sexy wife all at once. Rhonda, I couldn’t have done it without you. Thank you so much.

      And last, but not least, thank you to almighty God for giving me the opportunity to entertain the world with tales of the fantastic. Thank you for blessing my efforts, giving me direction, taking care of my family, and giving us health, grace, love and life.

      Enjoy!

      Chapter 1

      Our tale begins long before recorded history, long before the race of men prevailed alone. At a time when fearsome sorcerers battled vampire lords, the rage of dragons shook the foundations of the world, and wizards shouted, You shall not pass! to passing lava monsters, the colossal powers of good and evil clashed and through that strife portentous legends were born.

      The story you are about to read is completely true. Only the names, locales, times and events have been changed in order to protect the innocent.

      Death by dragon was imminent.

      Though the hero was mighty, his savage sword strikes merely ricocheted against the massive dragon’s scales, leaving little more than blemishes. His sword was assuredly pointless.

      That is not to say that the hero’s sword had no point at the end; rather, that is to say the pointy ends of weapons simply had little effect against a dragon that could swallow a man whole.

      Consequently, our hero came to the irksome realization that dragon slaying requires more strategy and finesse than merely poke it with the pointy end.

      The hero of the realm wondered if he could simply feed the dragon an exploding cow.

      How did the hero find himself facing a dragon in the first place? And where could he acquire an emergency exploding cow?

      Like all epic legends of high adventure and derring-do, where death awaits around every dark corner and within every unlit cellar, this tale begins in but a humble, snow-covered tavern.

      Unlike dragons, most taverns are typically hospitable and welcoming. In the days of yore, such convivial establishments bespeckled towns both minuscule and magnificent.

      People may visit a tavern for a variety of motives: including socialization, job hunting, lodging, and ill-considered gluttony. Others congregate for business or mischief. Still others arrive to make unwanted and awkward advances to slightly-under-clad, and lusty bar-maidens who seem to grow ever more desirable as the night grows short and the tab for ardent spirits grows long.

      The tavern where our tale begins is quite old and of a somewhat grander variety because it was not only quite capacious but included upper rooms for rent to weary travelers. Built into the side of a stony crag, it stands at the edge of a city named Mercer, which itself is nestled high in the mountains.

      And like all good tales, when the fickle finger of fate falls upon the unsuspecting, they are seldom prepared for the perils they encounter, much like the two men approaching.

      Emerging from the night, two brothers trudged through the snow. At first, they were seduced by the festive music enticing them toward the tavern. They then craved the warmth promised by the flickering, orange firelight which streamed out of the tavern’s windows onto the moonlit and snow-covered sod.

      The first word spoken by our venturing fortune hunters was of course, Bollocks!

      To be honest, that doesn’t make for a very promising start for our heroes.

      One of them could have uttered some grandiose profundity to be remembered through the ages such as, It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, or perhaps uttered, To be, or not to be: that is the question.

      However, barbarians aren’t known for poetry, waxing eloquent, or even kind words. So we are left with a pile of:

      Bollocks! If I wasn’t right! Was I right, Dainn? Or was I right!

      Fine.

      What was that, Dainn?! the shorter, beefier man provoked.

      Oh for the love of Thodain, yes, you were right, Wulfric.

      You see, Dainn? I knew we’d find a town if we just kept going.

      Yes, Wulfric, you’re very smart, Dainn patronized, too exhausted to argue.

      The snow crunched noisily under both men’s feet as they approached the building. Each man hauled furs on crudely fashioned sleds made from

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