This novella is a SAMPLE story from the new series, LEGENDS OF THE NAMELESS DWARF:
1. Carnifex
2. Geas of the Black Axe
3. Revenge of the Lich
4. Return of the Dwarf Lords
A Dwarf with No Name was originally published as The Ant-Man of Malfen, and it features in Revenge of the Lich (Legends of the Nameless Dwarf book 3)
All 5 original novellas remain available, as well as being included in a revised form in Revenge of the Lich.
Cursed by a demonic axe and fueled with an unquenchable bloodlust, the Nameless Dwarf slaughters his own people in their thousands.
The survivors flee to the nightmare realms beyond the mountains, where no one has ever set foot and lived to tell the tale.
Freed from the axe, and horrified by what he has done, the Nameless Dwarf pursues them across the known world. Convinced there can be no atonement, he is prepared to sacrifice everything to save the last of his race from extinction.
The trail leads to the brigand town of Malfen, on the fringes of civilization. But no one passes though without paying a toll to an underground boss known as the Ant-Man. It is a toll that has already cost many their lives.
Publisher's Note: A Dwarf With No Name was previously published as The Ant-Man of Malfen
This is the original novella of the bestselling Nameless Dwarf series.
It now features as part 1 of 5 in Revenge of the Lich, book 3 of Legends of the Nameless Dwarf.
The Nameless Dwarf books have frequently topped the eipc fantasy and sword and sorcery bestsellers rankings on Amazon and Barnes and Noble, rising as high as number 7 in the overall Kindle store.
Silas stumbled along cursing his lack of fitness. The dismal twilight was no help, either. Raphoe might have cast a wide glow, but it smothered the landscape in a gray similitude that gave it a dreamlike quality. It reminded him very much of tales of the Void, where disembodied wraiths roamed lost and uncomprehending, with no recollection of their former lives and no awareness of anything save their insatiable longing—for something as elusive as the ghostly lights that baited travelers to their slow, suffocating deaths in the quagmires of the Sour Marsh.
Nils looked back at him as infuriatingly spritely and cocksure as he’d been from the beginning of the trek.
“Almost there,” his voice cut across the night like a trumpet blast. “There’s an orange glow from beyond the ridge. Probably lanterns atop the walls.”
“Or the fiery maws of hungry devils,” Silas muttered under his breath.
His good humor had vanished with his energy. He was beginning to wish he’d learned to ride, rather than wasting away his youth picking pockets, and his adulthood in the ivory towers of academia. Physical prowess was for meatheads and morons, he’d always said, but now he was starting to see the other side of the coin.
“Why don’t you turn into a bird again?” Nils said, jogging back alongside him.
I would if I could, Silas thought. He was still swamped with fatigue and nausea from the last metamorphosis. Plebs like Nils had no idea how demanding the mantic arts could be—particularly for a beginner.
“Mustn’t squander power,” he huffed as he started up yet another scree slope. “Never know when you might need it.”
“Soon as we see the town walls, I’m out of here,” Nils said, hands on hips. “Reckon you’ve got enough power for the rest of my food?”
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Afrikaans
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Unavailable for translation.
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Dutch
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Unavailable for translation.
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Finnish
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Unavailable for translation.
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French
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Unavailable for translation.
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Greek
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Unavailable for translation.
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Hindi
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Unavailable for translation.
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Irish
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Unavailable for translation.
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Italian
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Already translated.
Translated by Stefano Vazzola
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Author review: Excellent translator. Diligent and creative with suggestions for difficult words. |
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Japanese
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Unavailable for translation.
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Norwegian
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Unavailable for translation.
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Portuguese
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Already translated.
Translated by Mariana Dias
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Spanish
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Already translated.
Translated by Lautaro Patyn
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Swedish
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Unavailable for translation.
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