News coming soon on how to buy A Shadow Falls. In the meantime…
Mallakai released his grip on his grandson and strode towards the water. His shadow fell across the Witchpool. ‘The Old North Road was closed for good reason.’
‘Can you tell me about it,’ quizzed Tom. He gestured at the fallen oak, which had been hollowed long ago to receive the back sides of optimistic anglers and daring-do youngsters. Two generations lowered themselves to the worn seat. A hint of sunlight broke through the thick canopy, orange and gold reflecting briefly on the opaque surface of the still water; the Witchpool in momentary harmony with autumnal decay.
‘Do you remember I once told you a tale of Winterland, of the invasion of the Nordakin and the bravery of Rulnik and his Wolves of Winter?’
Tom did remember. In his mind he pictured the ancient trinket on his grandfather’s stone mantel and the wolf’s head ring that nestled within. He had forgotten nothing. ‘Yes,’ he acknowledged breathlessly.
Mallakai nodded. ‘Good. Well, in the days and years that followed, ill-fortune dogged the people of Winter. It was as if the raiders from the Icy Wastes had poisoned the land with their presence. One particular winter, death came to the land. It was after that, that the North Road was closed.’
Tom whistled through his teeth. ‘Will you tell me what happened?’
Mallakai stared into the lake, dredging up the sunken parts of the tale from the depths of his memory. ‘Very well; perhaps if you knew the story it would help you understand my anger. And I need you to understand in order for you to help me fight your father.’
Tom blanched, but Mallakai would not release him from his gaze. He looked deep within the blue pools and liked what he saw behind his grandson’s frightened eyes. If he educated him properly, he would not fail as he had done with his son.
‘Now, where to begin…’
(Extract from The Wolves of Winter II)
This Christmas, the Wolves of Winter will ride again. Make sure you join Rulnik, Torbad and Yanuk in a deadly hunt for a hidden killer…