HALF A LEGEND Blurb

 SAKHAN is born a third son, a half-blood, and an abomination. Nothing is expected of him. So, when a seer foretells his power and greatness, the people are mystified as to how it will come to pass.

Sixteen-year-old Sakhan is now the new chief of a weak tribe in a world of sworn enemies, cunning skinchangers, and devastating earth magic. Surrounded by those who would rather have his head than his friendship, Sakhan must face the impossible to evade the enslavement of his people as he confronts a curse that lurks in his family and a conquering army that invades his lands.

Join the young chief on this epic adventure as he fights for the legend of his promised greatness. 

Half a Lion

 

Life's so treacherous. One moment you're lost in a carnival of delights, with poignant childhood memories, the flashing wishes of puberty, all that sentimental candy-floss. The next, it leads you somewhere you don't want to go. Somewhere damp and cold, filled with the ambiguous shapes of wishes unfulfilled. So when you find yourself facing that incoming anxiety of a life barely lived, wondering where all the time went. Remember there's always books. Books are the emergency portal. You can just step in, and embrace all those beautiful things you wished to enjoy. You can experience a thousand lifetimes, one page at a time.

Experience a new world with HALF A LION for a thunderous adventure.

Dulce et decorum est

 

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,

Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,

Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs,

And towards our distant rest began to trudge.

Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,

But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;

Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots

Of gas-shells dropping softly behind.

Gas! GAS! Quick, boys!—An ecstasy of fumbling

Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,

But someone still was yelling out and stumbling

And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime.—

Dim through the misty panes and thick green light,

As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams before my helpless sight,

He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace

Behind the wagon that we flung him in,

And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,

His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;

If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood

Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,

Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud

Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,

My friend, you would not tell with such high zest

To children ardent for some desperate glory,

The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est

Pro patria mori.

By Wilfred Owen

Half a Legend

Half a Legend, The Half Tales #2

A bigger, wilder blockbuster. The epic thrill ride continues. This book is the hardest I've written. As much as I was chosen by the story, I've been inspired by the characters. I can't wait for you to experience their growth. As the stars fade, the moon dips and the sun rises, the earth dries up and the seasons come anew, a warleader must break the bloody circle. 🐺

"Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage against the dying of the light." ⚔️

I'll rate it ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
But don't take my word for it. I might be biased as I wrote it 😁

Take a look for yourself. Add on Goodreads for news on giveaways and publication. https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/60581925-half-a-legend

Follow me on Twitter @pekoswald

Illustration by Nicole Cardiff

FULL OF PEACE

 

“Drink water from the spring where horses drink. The horse will never drink bad water.

Lay your bed where the cat sleeps. 

Eat the fruit that has been touched by a worm.

Boldly pick the mushroom on which the insects sit. 

Plant the tree where the mole digs. 

Build your house where the snake sits to warm itself. 

Dig your fountain where the birds hide from heat. 

Go to sleep and wake up at the same time with the birds — you will reap all of the day’s golden grains. 

Eat more green — you will have strong legs and a resistant heart, like the beings of the forest. 

Swim often and you will feel on earth like the fish in the water. 

Look at the sky as often as possible and your thoughts will become light and clear.

Be quiet a lot, speak little — and silence will come in your heart, and your spirit will be calm and full of peace.”

Saint Seraphim of Sarov

WHAT INSPIRED YOU TO WRITE?

"What inspired you to write this story?"

A very good question that I get often. However, the answer is not as simple as the question seems. I do not come from a reading culture. Not enough extra cash to spend on novels, and even less spare time to read them. Reading for pleasure was a luxury that a struggling family could not afford. Writing them is even more alien. So how did I get here?

I was a child in-between. The only child to a single mother, I grew up in a household of grandparents, uncles and aunts. So I was conscious enough to not be as childish as my age mates, but not "mature" enough to be considered in older circles. Smart enough to be in the same class as older children, but not "big" enough to truly belong. Luckily, my grandfather worked at a printing press, so there were always reading materials lying about. My imagination became my closest friend, and I drifted towards books as water to the desert of my bountiful curiosity. Between those pages, I could be anything. In the quiet spaces, I could be anyone. 

 Novels are often a reflection of the human condition - the struggle to overcome hardship. Hence, reading them is escapist. You can consider my writing as homage to that human condition. Writing took me out of a dark place. Not only could I experience a different life, I could create different world. So what better place to write about than a place I've heard fun tales about, and what better story to write about than a boy overcoming a tough time. 

Enter Half a Lion, a fantasy story of siblings fighting for a throne set in Africa. It is a world in which any number of wonderous things can happen, like employing animalistic magic for one's bidding, or manipulating nature to one's purpose. Africans would tell you there is nothing fantastically about such things. Witchcraft is real. Whether these elements are make-believe or not, the story carries a very human story at its core. For me, Half a Lion is a book that goes beyond the words used to describe it. I still aspire to be as loving, as loyal and as determined as its protagonist. For a reader, I hope the experience is the same. 

There is something about books that stirs the human spirit and puts fire in the heart. Hardship inspired me to write, and writing helped me. May our struggles spur us into action, and not into depression. Without adversity, success has no punchline. Keep the faith.

HALF A LION Excerpt

 

THE DISTANT MUSIC gradually faded as Adah walked into the Haunted Forest overran with ancient trees. The tribesmen believed the spirits of those who died fighting the Guth Honkai lingered here, hence the name. She had come to savor these private moments, away from the gossiping of the women. There were moments she truly felt like an outsider. She did not even look like one of them. Where they bore large bosoms and firm breasts, she had a tiny frame and small buds on her chest just enough to convince everyone she was a girl. After all these years, she would still see a few tribesmen staring at her with fear and suspicion.

Her only true friend was Sakhan, her bone brother and earliest memory. Adah had little recollection prior to the night the Lions found them wandering the outskirts of the village, tired and starving. She still remembered the chief pale with sickness. At six, Adah emptied her bladder when she saw the head of a lion staring down at her from the huge man's shoulders. It was a long time ago, but the memory was still fresh in her mind. Even though they were on the brink of exhaustion, there was no pity in the chief's eyes as the council debated, his hands lingering over a wound on his chest. If he had thrown them out, it would have meant certain death. The Lions were still agitated after their recent clash with the Abun raiders. But just when the chief was about to pronounce a verdict, a lanky boy sneaked from behind the throne and ran up to Adah.

''Who let him in here?'' the chief snapped.

Before the guards could grab the boy, he held out a small piece of meat to her. ''Are you hungry?'' Sakhan asked.

The men watched in a trance as she took the chunk of beef and shared it with her mother.

Before any of them recovered, Sakhan grabbed her arm and led her away. If the chief had truly wanted them to stay remained a secret between the chief and the skyfather.

The events of that night came back to Adah whenever her mother had her sudden fits of fever. The old woman was sick that night as well and every turn of the moon since. So Adah had to find spirit flowers for her healing tea. pa Wukhem had always allowed her in his farm to harvest some. But for some reason, the man denied this time.

Adah was still hopeful though. Her mother always said everything could be found in the Haunted Forest if one knew where to look. These woods were sacred to the Lions through the generations. There was even a popular story of how Sakhan's mother healed the chief by following a sick dog around the woods and taking note of the grasses it ate. One of them was  a spirit flower.

The grey orb was bright overhead as Adah cut through a small pine grove, itchy grasses brushing against her shin. She had a bow slung over her shoulder and a quiver strapped to her hip. If beasts prowled here, they would not make a meal of her. Adah was about to clear the grove when, out of nowhere, the woods began to whisper. She halted and listened. The Haunted Forest was not a place for night-time meetings. They must be runaway lovers, she thought. Giggling, Adah quietly tip-toed toward the voices.

''And the general wants me to bring it to him?'' a familiar voice asked.

''The ancestral blade will lift the curse, he is certain. When should we expect you?'' There was no reply, only the chirping of crickets.

''I will come as soon as I can. Tell him the boy and his mother are well.''

The voices came from behind an enormous pine tree. The ancestral blade? This meeting was a deliberate secret, she realized, and a dangerous one as well. Adah backed away, trying to slip into a nearby bush when she stumbled on a half-buried root and crashed into a pile of cones. The whispering stopped and a strained silence followed her fall. Then she heard movement behind  the  tree. Adah quickly stood up and sprinted into the darkness.

The tall grasses whipped and lashed at her, the moaning of the wind in her ears. She leaped and ran, stumbled and staggered, pine needles and cones pressing underfoot. Before long, Adah cleared the pine grove and was racing into the thicker woods. She heard the pounding of hooves gaining on her. Adah tried to remember the direction of old Charchar's cabin but her mind was blank. All it said was run. She sprinted blindly now and tripped over a fallen sapling, tumbling onto her chest just as something zoomed past inches from her head. Her face scrubbed the forest floor and pain blazed in her head.

The bow had jolted from her grasp, and when Adah struggled to her knees again, three horses encircled her, their riders cutting dark silhouettes in the moonlight. For a moment, she caressed her sprained wrist, moaning. None of the riders made to move. The drummers could barely be heard now. The chase had led them further away from the palace. Adah looked up at the faces and recognized they were not Lions. What was happening?

A fourth rider trotted up to the scene. ''Kill her,'' the familiar voice commanded and a bow began to creak, picking its mark.

  ***

Enjoyed this sample, you can continue reading Half a Lion HERE

KILL THE COW

 

A family lived on a small plot of land at the outskirts of a remote village. The family owned one cow and they lived totally off its milk. If the cow produce little milk, they eat little, if much, they eat much.

A traveler tired after a long day’s journey arrived at the village. He had no place to stay and he’s hungry. But this family invites him in and shares their little food with him.

He feels so thankful and grateful to this family for their kind gesture to a lonely and worn traveler. He was genuinely grateful and thought, “What can I do to show my appreciation to this family?”

As he was thinking about it, he walked down to the center of town. He sits on a bench and next to him sat a very famous wise man. He turns to the wise man and says, “Wise man, there’s a magnificent family that helped me today. They gave me their food. They shared with me their table. I want to return the favor.”

The wise man looks at him and said “Kill the cow.”

Shocked, the traveler looks at the wise man and said “How can I? It’s their only possession. I can’t do that.”

The traveler, on second thought, knowing the reputation of the wise man thought to himself “there must be something to this.” And just as he was about to live the town, he decided he’s going to do it.

So, late at night, he crept into the home of this family that so graciously helped him. He slaughtered the cow and heads off.

A year later, the traveler returned to the village, and immediately noticed something has changed. He noticed new shops and a thriving market. He saw a new hotel that provided beds and food to the travelers who came for the market.

He walked into the hotel, behind reception, he sees a young man standing tall, smiling and happy. He noticed this young man is the son of the family that helped him a year ago. He walked up to him and said “Young man, the town has changed. This hotel is new. What happened?”

The young man answered him, “Last year, our family lived off one cow. And one night the cow died. We woke up in the morning, we had nothing. We had to go out and do something to eat. We took some of the other things we owned and sold them in the market. People came and bought from us. We built a small place to serve food for the people that came for the market. And we also built an hotel for the people who come to the market and eat at the restaurant. And its thriving.”

“Life has changed for the better. I’m so glad our cow died.”