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R E A D   T H E   P R O L O G U E . . .

Malcolm MacDervish gripped the hilt of his sword tightly and kept very still, pulling the makeshift hood of his feileadh mor up over his head. Three soldiers were standing directly in front of the very bush in which he was hiding, and were they any closer, Malcolm could have reached out between the leaves and touched them.

The sun was starting to set in the west, transforming the sky from deep azure blue to hues of gold and pink. In the bright slanted sunset light, Malcolm could see his own golden breath on the cooling air. He slowly inhaled and exhaled through his mouth with deliberate quietness, a skill he had been developing for just such an occasion as this. Inside his leafy hiding place he curled his body into a tight ball, pulling his knees up under his kilt. Then wrapping the upper folds of wool around his arms and head, he hoped to blend-in and remain unseen. Unseen, that is, until the perfect moment offered itself, allowing him to launch a surprise attack on the unsuspecting soldiers. MORE....

 

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Books by Scott Alan Roberts:
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