Today I’m sharing an extract from Celts and the Mad Goddess, courtesy of P.C. Darkcliff. First of all, let’s see what the book is about…
When the raiders chase her into a swamp, Rawena falls into the furry claws of Goddess Pandemia. Despite her murderous instincts, Pandemia lets Rawena live—and turns her into a pawn in a mad game.
Only Garux, a warrior who has rejected Rawena for her younger sister, knows how deadly the game is. With the cards stacked against him, he must defeat the jealous Rawena and the cunning Pandemia… while fighting foreign invaders and traitors within his tribe.
Will Garux and his allies prevent a disaster that could wipe out everyone in Bohemia and perhaps the whole world? Purchase Celts and the Mad Goddess now to find out.
Rawena didn’t know about the invasion. She sang to the chirping of sparrows as she left her town to mine opals and amber. Although she only wore a linen underdress like every common Celtic woman, the midday sun made her sweat, so she jumped off the stone path into the shade of the woods. Her hammer, pick, and wedge rattled in her shoulder bag as she landed. Dead leaves crunched under her bare feet.
She followed the fringe of a ravine where ferns and grass sprouted among mossy boulders. Pines, spruces, oaks, and beech trees towered above her, and tiny yellow flowers grew everywhere she looked. Their smell reminded her of honey and made her skip with joy. Then a raven croaked three times from a treetop above her.
Rawena’s violet eyes filled with dread, for she knew it was a bad omen. As she rushed forward, she recalled seeing rats scurry through her dreams last night. She would have to ask the druidess if that also meant an impending disaster.
Anxiety made her chew her tongue until it bled. The apprehension and the taste of blood followed her to a wide merchant road. She was about to cross the road and walk on to the quarry when the sound of male voices stopped her in her tracks.
Rawena ducked and peered through the bushes. The thick foliage blocked her view of the men, who had stopped on the crossroads as if to discuss whether to turn for her town or continue north along the merchant road. Although she couldn’t make out the words, she realized the intonation wasn’t that of her tribe.
The merchant road ran from the North Sea down to the Roman Empire, with Rawena’s town standing roughly half-way. She assumed the men were southern merchants, who spoke a dialect of Gaulish or some other Celtic language she largely comprehended. When she listened closely, though, she realized she didn’t understand a word. Their language wasn’t the harmonious Greek or Latin she occasionally heard on the road. Harsh and guttural, it could only be Germanic.
She froze when she realized what it meant.
About the Author
When I was in kindergarten, I managed to convince my classmates that my grandma was a tribal shamaness. Then I learned my letters, and kidding my friends no longer seemed adequate—so I started to write.
I have published two standalone novels, Deception of the Damned and The Priest of Orpagus, and my stories have been featured in various publications.
My latest project, Celts and the Mad Goddess, is the first installment of the Deathless Chronicle.
I have lived in six countries and on three continents. While it burned a hole in my bank account, the seminomadic lifestyle has inspired most of my stories and novels.
My wife and I have settled in southern Spain, where I go swimming and cycling whenever I’m not too busy writing.