5th Era Novels
Trek to Kraggen-cor - Book One of the Silver Call Duology
A CALL TO WAR!
More than two hundred years after the Dark Lord's defeat by the brave alliance of Warrow, human, Dwarf, and Elf, evil is again stirring, and man and Dwarf must turn to the small but stalwart Warrows for aid. And thus it is that Peregrin Fairhill and Cotton Buckleburr, heepers of the Silver Horn, find themselves marching with the Dwarf King at the head of a mighty army. They are pleged to kead the way along the almost forgotten path to Kraggen-Cor, legendary realm under the Mountain. But Kraggen-Cor is now home to all creatures of evil that yet remain in Mithgar. And even if Perry and Cotton can reopen the ancient way, will they be leading their allies to glorious victory - or certain doom?
The Brega Path - Book Two of the Silver Call Duology
THE FINAL BATTLE!
Kraggen-Cor, once the heart of the Dwarf kingdom, now the mountain fastness of all the creatures of evil that remain in Mithgar. Here the Dwarf King Durek has led his forces to fufill his destiny and reclaim his realm. But with the Dawn Gate held by ememy troops and the Dusk-Door of Kraggen-Cor barred by a nightmare guardian, Durek must split his forces. He sends the Warrow Perry, the human Kian, and several doughty Dwarf warriors to chance the Brega Path, the legendary twisting way through the heart of Kraggen-Cor. With the powers of evil in pursuit, can this small band win through to Durek¹s army before the enemy springs a diabolical trap which could prove the death of all the Dwarves in Mithgar?
The Silver Call Omnibus Edition
Dennis L. McKiernan's mythical novels of Mithgar are among the most cherished stories in the pantheon of fantasy fiction. The Silver Call collects two early novles of Mithgar in one volume for the first time.
Now the Dwarves are determined to reclaim their ancestral home. And two brave young Warrows are the only guides available for the trek to Kraggen-Cor... and into deadly danger...
The Eye of the Hunter
"When Spring comes upon the land, yet winter grips with icy hand, and the Eye of the Hunter stalks the night skies, bane and blessing alike will rise. Lastborn Firstborns of those who were there, stand at thy side in the light of the Bear, hunter and hunted, who can say which is which on a given day?"
A thousand years have passed since the Eye of the Hunter last glared in the heavens. A thousand years since the immortal Elfess Riatha brought word of the prophesy to the Warrows Tomlin and Petal with whom she had leagued to hunt down and defeat Baron Stoke, one of the most evil beings to stalk the lands of Mithgar. The price of Stoke's Doom had been a beloved companion's life, the two plunging, locked in combat, down an icy chasm which had sealed shut above them with the ring of eternity.
Now the comet known as the Eye of the Hunter again rode Mithgar's skies, and the creatures of darkness once again ravaged the lands, heralding the imminent return of their dread master, Baron Stoke. And now five brave souls must answer the call of prophesy: Riatha and the Elf called Aravan; Gwylly and Faeril, last in a long line of Firstborn Warrow decendants of Tomlin and Petal; and one other, one restored to them from death¹s chill grasp....
Silver Wolf, Black Falcon
The 'Wolf bore a burden concealed in a harness slung across its back, and about the neck of the pony-sized creature dangled a ring on a chain. Something as well glistened about the neck of the falcon above, the bird itself black as night, the glisten as from silver and glass.
Hunters and hunted, up the steeps they strove, the 'Wolf now and again glancing at the ebony falcon above, yet pausing not in its lunging run, while behind came the howling foe. Of a sudden the Helsteed squealed and pitched backward down the slant, the scaled creature smashing atop the Ghul, bones cracking under the crushing weight of the beast. Yet snarling out commands, with spear in hand the corpse-foe rose to his feet and took up the chase afoot, though the Helsteed did not as it lay in the snow, its head and neck twisted awry, its cloven hooves drumming a tattoo of death.
Now the black falcon called out a skree! and veered to the right, but the Silver Wolf did not change its course to follow. Again the falcon called out, but the 'Wolf plunged on upward, toward the stormy heights above. Calling out once more, the falcon stooped, folding its wings and plummeting toward the 'Wolf below, and just as it unfurled its pinions‹thuck!‹a crossbow bolt pierced it through, and with a wracking cry it tumbled down through the air to fall to the snowy slopes.
Even as the Rucks shouted in glee, and in spite of the howling pursuit, the Silver Wolf veered rightward to come to the felled bird. And gently, in mouth and gently, the 'Wolf took up the wounded falcon, careful not to disturb the piercing quarrel, and then the argent animal plunged onward, up the steepening slopes, snow flying out behind.
And still the Vulgs came after, the huge black Wolflike creatures now gaining on the silver foe.
Up they ran and up, up through the screaming wind, while the black skies above seemed to darken further still. At last the Silver Wolf topped the slant to come onto a circular flat, and ahead and curving 'round to the sides towered the hard face of a sheer stone bluff, cupping, trapping the small plateau in its looming embrace, trapping the 'Wolf and the falcon as well. The 'Wolf - the Draega - moved forward and gently lay the black falcon to the soft snow, then with a low growl the creature whirled 'round and padded back to the precipitous lip of the dead-ended, stone-held flat.
Downslope, the yawling rout of Vulgs and Rucks and Hloks and the Ghul lunged upward, fangs bared, blades drawn, arrows and quarrels nocked, cruel barbed spear in hand, murder in their viperous eyes. In the distance beyond and barely glimpsed through the blowing white stood a massive black fortress, its ebon walls streaked with glazes of rime and long white runs of hoarfrost.
With another low growl the 'Wolf turned its back to the oncoming peril and stepped toward the wounded falcon, and in that moment the howling blizzard swept over all, hurtling stinging snow shrieking across the whole of the mountainside.
6th Era Novels
City of Jade
The journey will be long and perilous - and the voyagers will find more than treasure awaiting them in the City of Jade. They will find dark sorcery and great danger, and some among them will find death.
How to take vengeance, how to gain redress, occupied all of Nunde's thoughts. Aravan must die, that is certain, but the method of it is the question; for he is surrounded by staunch and powerful allies, and slaying him will be no easy task. Oh, there are ways the Dolh can be killed outright, but that isn't the point at issue; instead agony and grief and unbearable despair must overwhelm Aravan before he suffers a dreadful death. Hence, stripping him of all he values comes first, and doing so in a fitting—some would say unspeakable—manner must precede the Dolh's own demise.
How to do it, how to accomplish what most certainly had to be done, that was the question, that was the issue, and that was what the Necromancer pondered throughout the long tides of night. Indeed, I could bring an army from Neddra to Mithgar, but where would be the pleasure in that? No subtlety, no iron taste of cold revenge? Pah! With the ways between the Planes now open, it isn't like that time I slew ten thousand on Neddra to gain enough < fire > to bring a rout of Chûn and others through the temple in Drearwood despite the Sundering. Ah, what surprise upon the faces of those who sought to purge the 'Wood of Gyphon's minions. They did not know that a small measure of Mithgarian blood flows in my veins along with the blood of Neddra, as well as that of Vadaria. Nor did any know that I could capture the rout in my < fire >, my aura greatly expanded by those I had slain. And we fell upon those Humans and Elves in a great killing; had it not been for Aravan's crystal-bladed spear and Riatha's cursed Darksilver sword, we would have slaughtered all ere Silverleaf and the others arrived, and we would have butchered them as well. But with the Gûk and their steeds and the Vulpen all brought down by Aravan and Riatha, the remainder of my Chûn were no match for them, and I had to flee. Even so, Riatha's blade nearly was my undoing. Nunde's fist smashed down upon the arm of his dark chair. This is another reason to render vengeance upon Aravan and all of those he cherishes.
As dawn broke in the eastern sky, Nunde rose from his seat at the slit of a window, preparing to descend to his quarters. It was not as if he had to flee from the light of day, for, thanks to that fool of a boy Bair, the cursed Rider of the Planes, not only were the in-between ways now open, but Adon's Ban had been lifted as well, and no longer did the Black Mage and his ilk suffer the withering death.
No, instead Nunde, by force of ingrained habit—a habit many millennia long—was a creature of darkness, as were his minions, all beings of Neddra.
Down the stone steps of the shadowy stairwell Nunde descended to his torchlit quarters below, and there he fell into a restless sleep, his mind still churning with thoughts of revenge, as it had done for weeks on end, ever since word had come that it was Aravan, wielding a Silver Sword, who had put Gyphon to death.
But as the sun came up on this day, Nunde would set aside his scheming and rest, for in the dusktime morrow night he would begin the long journey to the crossing to Neddra to meet with a small conclave of Black Magekind, where, if his immediate ruse came to fruition, the conclave would be under his heel. After all, he had plans to wrench their power from them.
Aravan could wait.