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.”

MR ROMANTIC

A man and his wife traveled to the zoo. They found a monkey who was passionately playing with his female. His wife said to him, "What a romantic couple."

Then, they found a lion and his lioness separated from each other; the silent lion sat alone in his corner as if the lioness did not exist. His wife said to him, "What a sad scene without love."

Her husband then said to her, “Throw that stone at the lioness and watch.” When she threw the stone at her, the lion roared to defend his lioness. Then they saw the monkeys again and she did the same by throwing a stone; the monkey then jumped up and abandoned his female to save his own skin. 

Her husband then told her, “Do not be deceived by what you see as romance in some, often it is a deceiving appearance that hides an empty heart; there are others on the contrary who show nothing, but their hearts are full of sincere love."

"Sadly  we have so many monkeys, and so few lions nowadays."

AUTHOR INTERVIEW

 

What is the name of the book and when was it published?

HALF A LION by PALLE E.K. OSWALD published on January 27, 2022.

What’s the book’s first line?

Dying is easy, dying well is hard.

What’s the book about? Give us the “pitch”.

Apocalypto meets Game of Thrones in this blockbuster debut about a land trapped in eternal warfare and a young warrior who must rise above the clash of princes to bring a new age.

What inspired you to write the book? A particular person? An event?

The stories that I am. I have always been an avid reader. As a kid growing up in a small town and a lowly neighborhood, I never knew we were poor, even though my mother constantly reminded me of it. How could I be poor when I had magical powers going to a boarding school for the gifted (Harry Potter), or a mysterious man who recently came into some fortune and seeks revenge (The Count of Monte Cristo)? I sought refuge in those stories. Even more, I would listen to my grandfather tell stories of our tribe and family, of personal legends (like an ancestor who fought off a tiger with bare hands and earned the moniker HAND OF A TIGER, a name I inherited), and gruesome battles (like magically burying the raiders of a rival army and allowing one survivor to return with the demoralizing news that stopped further incursions). The stories never left me. It was my name after all. Half A Lion is inspired by, and taps into, that rich vein of legends and folklore.

What’s the main reason someone should really read this book?

To those looking for a refreshing setting and culture, a mythical tale of conflicted heroes, intricate plotting, and blockbuster action. The story will show you the power of unconditional love and only break your heart when it matters. You will bathe in a storm and find warmth in a blazing bushfire. You will taste betrayal and wash it down with a sip of vengeance. You will ride wildebeests through haunted jungles and live a dozen lives. You will dance with giant wolves under a red sun, and rest on the beast throne. If that is your kind of adventure, you have found a LION to run with.

What’s the most distinctive thing about the main character?

Love. Not the romantic love that is a staple of the genre. My main character has immense loyalty and is ready to die a hundred thousand times if only to protect those he loves. He abandons all safety and comfort to journey into a brutal, unforgiving world for a chance to prove his love.

And he speaks to the dead.

Who-real or fictional-would you say the character reminds you of?

Karsa Orlong (Malazan Book of the Fallen by Steven Erikson). Uncompromising loyalty and ragged determination. A character naïve and pure in spirit, and whose justice might be savage, but it is just.

When did you first decide to become an author?

When I traveled to Sweden for Undergraduate Studies. At seventeen, being alone in a foreign country, studying and working full-time was hard. It was difficult balancing all of that and having time for any social life. I struggled with an emotional storm. For me, reading had been an escape. I began writing as a release, and it helped me ride the storm.

Is this the first book you’ve written?

Yes, this is my first novel. I have written short stories. But HALF A LION is my debut novel.

What’s the best and the hardest part of being an indie?

It is great to see characters come alive just as I imagined them, and the creative freedom of telling their story. To create pages laced with magic and dreams trapped in ink. Though the input from beta readers and editors are important, the indie author dictates. Also, the control over the publication process (book design, cover, release date, etc.). In a way, the book is my Horcrux, and it feels nice to have shaped it as I wish.

However, as a relative unknown, it is hard to break out as an indie author. I lack the established machinery (budget and tried-and-trusted processes) and relationships enjoyed by traditional publishers or well-known indie authors. Nonetheless, it is sweet pain.

What’s a great piece of advice that you can share with fellow indie authors?

Writing can be a lonely road, relatable only to those who have walked it. The writing community is littered with both great authors (traditional and indie) and fine individuals. The bond between authors has been beautiful to experience. For whatever it’s worth, I’ll tell fellow indie authors to support and celebrate each other’s success as frequently and proudly as if it’s theirs. When your neighbor receives gifts, it means Santa is in your neighborhood.

Is there something in particular that motivates you?

Immortality. I know that sounds pretentious. I fancy the idea though. Long when I’m gone, on chilly November night, I wish somebody will close a book and as they set it down beside a cup of tea, they would wonder, “Who is this PALLE E.K. OSWALD fellow? Good author.”

Paying the bills would be nice too.

 

Which book do you wish you could have written?

None. All the books that I love are so because they were well-done. But someday, I wish to write a canon that exports African gods and legends to the world. Something to entertain and educate, like an African Iliad.

***

Interested in reading HALF A LION? Here is an excerpt| Excerpt 2

OR

Buy HALF A LION

 

HALF A LION Cover

 

Ladies and gentlemen, we have a COVER. Before you ask, no lions were burnt in the making of this beauty. The journey enters a new horizon. Now you must make a choice. This story will show you the face of unconditional love and only break your heart when it matters. You will bathe in a storm and find warmth in a blazing bushfire. You will taste betrayal and wash it off with a sip of vengeance. You will ride through haunting jungles and live a dozen lives. You will dance with wolves under a red sun. The adventure might not be for everyone, but if you are half as curious as I think you are, you have found a LION to run with.

“Destiny is a choice.”

Follow on Facebook and Goodreads| Palle E.K. Oswald, and Twitter| @pekoswald

An Excerpt from HALF A LION

 

Below is an excerpt from my upcoming debut novel HALF A LION. Stories and songs have been favored staples of the oral African traditions passed down the generations. In this book, I combine two of my great loves; history and poetry. Happy reading and watch this space.

***

Mansah loosened his sword in its scabbard and checked the arrows in his quiver. Then he wrapped his robe tighter around himself and settled down to listen to a group of warriors chant A Song of Blood and Feathers.

“Long ago, lived a warrior with dreams untold

With hair of glowing coal, eyes of a fiery gold

His blade was fine and bow of pine

Into the darkness, he braved the cold

 

The White Garden held a fate unknown

 For what was beyond, he longed to own

A haunted boy ached for honor's sake

 And in the jungle, you wish you take

 

Blood on stones, pinch of scathing daggers

The warrior climbed, each step on weak boulders

The Garden fought back with flashes in the dark

Yet willing hearts triumph where strength staggers

 

Under the moonlit shower, the injured bird lay

Words unhurried, to beg and pray

For a chance to see the eagle dance

And the moon blinded in a feathery trance

 

 

Far away, a dozen winged beasts soared

And in the twilight, the great warrior roared

They came swooping to answer a master's call

Where no one dares, there you will find your all.”

 

“Feels good to hear the words of our forefathers,” someone said behind him.

Mansah looked over his shoulder to see the chief frowning. He had not even heard the man approach. He sighed. “The songs always talk of glorious victories, but never of untimely deaths, my chief,” he said, thinking of the tribesmen who had screamed for help as the bushfires seized them.

Kheng sat down beside him, his armor creaking. “The songs are not meant to remind us of death, but to celebrate a great life,” the chief said. “The skyfather makes some people faster, some louder, some stronger. But in death, one skeleton is the same as the other. It is the gift of life that matters, the hearts given to each of us, and what we do with it. When it is all done, the skyfather will ask you what you did with that strong heart he gave to you, that keen nose, that sharp eye. The songs of the tribe will answer for you.”

Debut novel: HALF A LION

 

I hear only good things from my beta readers 📚 It is quite humbling. To think the young black kid who would split open his toes playing soccer barefoot on the stony streets of a ghetto now leaves footprints in the minds of readers all over the world. We rise only as high as our dreams. Dream big dreams 🧠
It is an honor to add to the plethora of African literature. It might be a drop in the river, but I believe without it, the river would be missing something. I always had a fascination with the origin and meaning behind our African culture and legends. I created a world from it.
Fun fact: At the risk of sounding like a misogynist, with all the gore and dark themes in this manuscript, I had a secret worry it was going to put off women. I'm glad I was so wrong. The most lavish praises have been from you 🙈

See the summary:

The jungle simmers with discontent, inhabited by desperate people in an insufficient land. In the middle of the unrest is the Lion tribe, ruled by a family as brutal and ruthless as the land they inherited. However, the Lion chief is dead. Across barren wastelands and sweeping forests, the tribes stake their claim.

It is a tale of shamans and warriors, chiefs and wanderers, shapeshifters and bleak omens. A disinherited Prince wants the loyalty of sworn enemies; a young woman seeks conquest; a tribe of wildebeest riders smell a price; a fourteen-year-old boy undertakes a perilous journey to find his way back home.

As folklore comes alive and old spirits walk the mountains, amid tragedy and victory, honor and betrayal, everyone must gamble for the most elusive fate of all – survival.

For more updates, watch this space. 

If

 

 

If you can keep your head when all about you
   Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
   But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
   Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don’t give way to hating,
   And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
   If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
   And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
   Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
   And stoop and build ’em up with wornout tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
   And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
   And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
   To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
   Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on”;

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
   Or walk with kings—nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
   If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run—
   Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son

 

- Rudyard Kipling