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Thursday, 12 November 2015

☀ Broken Prophecy [1] - KJ Taylor

Thank you for joining us on the Virtual Book Tour for Broken Prophecy, a Fantasy Satire by (1 September 2015, AUS Impulse, 241 pages).

PREVIEW: Check out the book's synopsis and excerpt below, as well as our Q&A with author KJ Taylor.  Read the first chapter with Amazon Look Inside.

KJ Taylor will be awarding one ecopy of Broken Prophecy to three randomly drawn winners via Rafflecopter during the tour.   Please do take part: comment on our post and follow the tour where you will be able to read other excerpts (☀), interviews (ℚ) and guest blog posts (✉).

Do also have a look at our feature and Q&A with KJ Taylor about her Fantasy series, the Drachengott.


Synopsis | Teaser | Author Q&A | About the Author | Giveaway & Tour Stops

Synopsis

A fun adventure that satirises fantasy tropes in the style of Terry Pratchett.

Ambit Afterman is the Chosen One. Born with the mark of the silver bellflower on his palm and given a magical spear, he is the one whose coming the prophecy foretold.

Unfortunately, he would much rather drink beer and get laid - destiny can go fuck itself.

Together with his demon friend Snarl, Ambit sets out on a mighty quest - to make sure the prophecy doesn't come true, and avoid doing anything heroic under any circumstances. Along the way he will make polite conversation with demons, not deliver any great speeches, not train with the wise monks, and weasel his way out of adventure and into the nearest pub. But there may just be time to have cheap sex with the beautiful princess along the way.

Teaser: Excerpt

From Chapter One

     Next morning the traveller woke up. He immediately regretted it. He rolled over and pressed his face into the pillow of the bed he’d hired, but it was too late; he was awake now, and apparently stuck with it for the time being.
      ‘Ugh, who turned up the sun?’ he mumbled.
      Beside him, the singer stretched and smiled at him. ‘Good morning.’
      ‘No it isn’t,’ he said immediately. ‘Please kill me and throw my corpse in the river.’
      She giggled. ‘Do you even remember anything you did last night?’
      ‘Yes, I got drunk,’ he said. ‘I may also have done some singing of my own before we wound up here.
     What’s your name, anyway?’ ‘Selwa,’ she said. ‘What about you?’
      The traveller rolled over and sat up. ‘Er, I’m Ambit,’ he said, rubbing his eyes. ‘Was I any good in bed, by the way?’
      ‘Terrible,’ said Selwa.
      ‘Thought so. I suppose I should get going before I meet anyone a second time. The first time is usually enough to make the second time a bad idea. You’re not married, are you?’
      ‘No,’ she said, ‘not that you cared last night.’
      ‘Thank fuck for that,’ Ambit said, dragging himself out of bed. ‘Thanks for the company.’
      ‘You’re welcome,’ said Selwa. ‘You’re interesting. We don’t get many interesting people around here. Where are you from?’
      ‘Nowhere that exists anymore,’ said Ambit.
      ‘Then where are you going?’
      ‘Don’t know yet,’ he answered, looking around blearily for the water jug. He found it and tipped the entire contents over his head, then shook it, spraying droplets everywhere, before ruffling his blue-spotted hair with his hands.
      Selwa got up and started to gather her clothes from the floor. ‘So you’re a wanderer,’ she said. ‘That sounds interesting. Are you hunting demons?’
      ‘No,’ Ambit said shortly.
      ‘But you’ve fought some, haven’t you?’ she persisted, looking at the spear which he had left propped up in a corner.
      ‘A few,’ said Ambit. ‘You can’t go anywhere these days without impaling something or other.’ He had found his trousers by now, and managed to put them on after a couple of attempts.
      Selwa watched him, noting the scars on his arms and legs. ‘Is it scary, fighting a demon?’
      Ambit picked up his shirt. ‘Have a look at one and make an educated guess,’ he said. ‘Have you seen my boots anywhere?’ Selwa picked one up and hurled it at his head, but he caught it an inch away from his nose and sat down to put it on. ‘Thanks.’
      Selwa finished dressing and made for the door. ‘Good luck on your journey. Come and see me if you’re ever in the neighbourhood again.’
      ‘Will do,’ he said. ‘Er, what’s this place called again?’
      Selwa rolled her eyes. ‘Spotswood. Goodbye, Ambit.’
      Ambit finished lacing his boots, and picked up his pack and spear. Downstairs in the tavern room, the owner was waiting with an irritated expression at the ready. ‘There you are,’ he said. ‘Are you leaving today?’
      Ambit was already on his way to the entrance. ‘Don’t worry. I’m gone,’ he said, ‘and I hardly puked on your floor at all, so stop scowling at me.’
      The tavern owner’s face went from dark to thunderous. ‘You’d better not show your face in here again, you –’ he began, but Ambit was through the door before he’d finished throwing out the witty insult he would no doubt come up with. Ambit considered throwing one out, too, but his brain wasn’t up to it just then, and the moment he went outside the sun sent shafts of hot pain into his eyeballs and rendered him speechless.
      Blinking and grimacing, he put his head down and walked off, out of the town of – what was it called again? – Spotswood. A very clean and wholesome place, clearly, full of happy children and colourful houses, with flowers everywhere, between the buildings and in open spaces, before the fields appeared.
      Ambit waded through them without looking back, spear slung over his shoulder. He followed a river whose waters shimmered in the sun, beautifully clear, cold and clean. The sand at the bottom was black, and so were the rocks, and there weren’t that many fish about, but it was clean and pretty enough. Ambit paused, looking at it, then dumped his bag and spear, stripped off and jumped in.
      While he was crouching neck-deep and scrubbing himself with a handful of sand, something moved through the trees not far away. A clump of nodding daffodils suddenly wilted, and then shrivelled under a blast of heat and something black emerged like a blot on the beautiful landscape. Glowing red eyes narrowed into evil slits, and a faint hiss snaked out from between shining metal fangs.
      The creature waddled out of its hiding place, claws digging into the ground, spikes leaving blackened scratches on a nearby tree trunk. Its tail dragged behind it, the tip flicking.
      It went as close to the water’s edge as it dared, still hissing balefully, and then turned its attention to the spear left lying on the bank. It bit at the leather-wrapped shaft, managed to get a grip, and slowly started to drag the weapon away.
      Ambit heard the spear bumping against the tree roots where he’d left it, and turned around to look. The weapon had wedged itself in place and the demon was hissing angrily as it tried to pull it free.
      Ambit swam back to the edge and rested his arms on the bank. ‘Need a hand?’ he asked.
      The demon let go of the spear and waddled over to glare at him. ‘It’s going to rust if you leave it in the mud. Where were you all night?’
      ‘Resting. I was tired,’ said Ambit. ‘And that spear can’t rust, remember? Not that I care.’
      ‘You’re supposed to be taking care of it,’ said the demon, waving an accusing claw at him.
      ‘I am taking care of it,’ said Ambit. ‘I’m way too hungover for your nagging, Snarl.’
      ‘You humans and your beer,’ said the demon. ‘I’ve never understood the attraction.’
      ‘Sometimes I can’t either,’ said Ambit, pushing himself away from the bank and rolling over to let the water cover his head.
      Snarl waited impatiently while he finished his bath and climbed up the bank. ‘Can we go now?’ she asked while he was pulling his shirt on.
      Ambit picked up his spear and pack. ‘All right, all right, let’s go. The river should take us the rest of the way. What were you doing all night, anyway?’
      Snarl waddled along beside him as he started to walk downriver. ‘Digging for rocks,’ she said. ‘I was hoping this place would have some worth eating, but fat chance. I won’t get a decent meal until we’re in demon country again.’
      ‘Don’t worry. I think there’s a patch of it between us and there,’ said Ambit. ‘Then it’ll be your turn to have a good feed and I’ll be the one stuck with nothing to eat.’
      ‘It’d be about time,’ said Snarl.
      ‘Hey, you’re lucky I don’t pull your eyeballs out and spend them,’ said Ambit, idly kicking a stick out of the way.
     ‘I’ve thought of it more than once.’
      ‘Try it if you want your nose bitten off,’ said Snarl. ‘Remind me – why are we going to see these monks again?’
      ‘To hear this stupid prophecy granddad told me about, remember?’ said Ambit. ‘So we know what not to do. So we can piss off somewhere and do what we like, without worrying about it coming true. I don’t know why you’re complaining. You’re a demon.’
      ‘I’m complaining because I don’t trust you,’ said Snarl.
      ‘Why, because I’m human?’
      ‘Because you’re an irresponsible moron,’ the demon informed him. ‘That is why I don’t trust you.’
      ‘Now that’s just unfair,’ said Ambit. ‘I have many other fine qualities as well, y’know.’

Broken Prophecy - available NOW!

UK: purchase from Amazon.co.uk purchase from Nook UK purchase from Kobo UK purchase from iTunes UK find on Goodreads
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About the Author

K.J.Taylor was born in Australia in 1986 and plans to stay alive for as long as possible. She went to Radford College and achieved a Bachelor’s Degree in Communications at the University of Canberra, where she is currently studying for a Master’s Degree in Information Studies.

She published her first work, The Land of Bad Fantasy through Scholastic when she was just 18, and went on to publish The Dark Griffin in Australia and New Zealand five years later. The Griffin’s Flight and The Griffin’s War followed in the same year, and were released in America and Canada in 2011. At the moment, she is working on the third set of books in the series, while publishing the second.

K.J.Taylor’s real first name is Katie, but not many people know what the J stands for. She collects movie soundtracks and keeps pet rats, and isn’t quite as angst-ridden as her books might suggest.

Follow K.J.Taylor:

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