Historical Fantasy Book on Blog Tour
I’m of Irish descent, and I love all things related to Ireland. Because this is Irish Heritage Month, I’d like to spotlight a new book titled Blood Ties by author Hazel West. Be sure to follow the tour.
In an Ireland that mixes high kings, faeries, and modern warriors who drive fast cars, Ciran, a descendant from the famous warrior Fionn Mac Cool, bands together with a company of young warriors from the legendary order of Na Fianna to go on a quest to recover their missing family members who were captured by the Goblins in a shaky peace between the two kingdoms. Ciran and his companions must figure out not only how they are going to rescue the prisoners, but how they are going to complete their mission without killing each other. Through trial and error, running battles, unexpected friendships, and daring escapes, Ciran and his company come face to face with the Goblin King himself in a final battle that will decide the fate of all involved and of Ireland itself.
The first book in a new series, Blood Ties takes the traditional Irish legends and puts a modern spin on them with a heavy helping of friendship and the love of family.
Title: Blood Ties (The Modern Tales of Na Fianna #1)
Genre: YA, Urban Fantasy, Alternate History
Createspace Paperback: https://www.createspace.com/5165155
Amazon Paperback: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1505596130?keywords=Blood%20Ties%20Hazel%20West&qid=1455604855&ref_=sr_1_1&sr=8-1
About the Author
Hazel West lives in Purgatory, er, Florida, with her books and her hedgehog, Horatio. When she’s not writing, she’s reading other people’s books, studying folklore, or binge-watching something on Netflix—drinking coffee is also a given.
Writing blog: http://talesfromamodernbard.blogspot.com
“How did your training go?” Da asked as he pulled back.
“Well, but that isn’t what I came to tell you.” I quickly detailed the events of our patrol first to get that out of the way. Maybe I was stalling, but I felt I should tell him this before anything else.
He listened quietly, but I could tell that it bothered him that we had been attacked and so close to home. It wasn’t like we had been days up in the mountains, it was only an hour’s drive north. Well, an hour my driving, but still.
“There’s something else I need to tell you,” I said after I had finished and assured him Tierney was all right—he and Tierney’s father had been sword brothers as all men of our families were. “I know I should have told you before, but it was so uncertain, I didn’t want to let anyone know. But now that I do have something to show you for it, I felt I must let you know what I have been doing in my spare time.”
“Ciran,” he said warningly, but I shook my head, pleading with him to let me continue.
“Before Tierney and I left for Dublin, Eamon asked us to look into a few…things. Just some tracking—off the books. And at first we didn’t find anything, but this morning, on our way back, we had a new lead, and we checked it out.”
He had turned back to his bench and was gripping the edge tightly, his knuckles white, shaking his head, but I pushed on, unable to stop now that the damage had already been done.
“We went to the stone circle in Westmeath. They made their last stand there.”
“Ciran.” His voice was strangled with rage and grief.
“I found this.” I yanked the medallion out from under my breastplate and put it on the table in front of him, more and more anxious to finish and win him over to my side on this matter for once.
He stood there for a minute, shaking with emotion; of what exactly, I couldn’t be sure, but then he took the medallion that he had crafted himself and after a moment’s hesitation, threw it across the room, overturning the bench with a violent shove and a thundering crash. “It’s not my son, is it?!” he shouted.
I stepped back, more grieved than frightened. He swung around on me. “Why did you disobey me? This is exactly what I was afraid of. Finding something that would give us all false hope and for what? To find his corpse rotting on a spike someday in the north, or worse? You will not go back, Ciran, do you hear me? You will just forget this whole thing.”
“I can hardly disobey the High King, Athair,” I said, trying to keep my own emotions under wraps, fluctuating from indignant anger to fear and grief. “And what if he is still alive? What if we have left him and the others to die alone in pain, waiting for help that will never come? It’s not just Aeden, it is Eamon’s brother, our own crown prince, and as loyal country-men, subjects, and Fianna, we cannot give up so easily! It is our duty to push on!”
His good hand wrapped around one shoulder as the leather-bound stump crashed into the other, jerking me forward. “You will forget him, Ciran, and by Lugh, I swear, if you bring this up in front of your brothers…”
“Daegal already knows, and how can he not? His dreams were what guided me to the standing stones in the first place. Would he dream so often of these things if there was not some need to find them?” I asked.
“Ciran,” he shouted, then softened and hung his head, his jaw tight. “Ciran, mo fuaime, please forget him. There is nothing you can do for your brother now. He is gone, and you had best start believing that. We had all best start believing that.”
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