By Julia on April 10, 2016 Kindle Edition Verified Purchase Review
“I absolutely loved the Falcon Heart series. Kryin’s story drew me in a way that few books have. The plot, characters and action packed scenes quickly draw in the reader and keep you hanging with every chapter. After quickly finishing the first book, I bought the second one because I couldn’t wait to see how the story would finish. I would definitely recommend this book and all others by Azalea Dabill.”
Falcon Flight (Chronicle Book II):
Kyrin Cieri, long lost keeper of the keys and unfit first daughter, is the hope of Cierheld stronghold or its doom.
She returns to Britannia from slavery, the king dies, and a treacherous hand wounds Kyrin’s father. Ambitious lords and the intrigue she thought she left behind in Araby engulf her stronghold.
Talik Wyman, holder of secrets, is more than a low-born messenger for the northern lords. Torn by love, loyalty, and intrigue between Talik – a lord’s son she’s sworn never to handfast, a rival stronghold daughter, her father’s life, and the wazir’s vengeance, Kyrin must find the strength to become who she was born to be or all will end in ash.
Behind them all lurks the tiger of destruction. Yet Kyrin carries at her side the falcon dagger, the key to life, death, and a traitor deeper yet.
Falcon’s Ode: Evil yawls across stronghold, dale, and daughter; death creeps o’er all. Heart, blood, and bone, beyond death I hear you call. “Rise up, though small; break the bars of wrong, crossover the wall.” The prize, the lives within our hall . . .
Kyrin kicked her horse back across the road, Berd and Twr beside her. They had to get to the nearer pass; they could not outrun this force all the way to Cierheld hall by the roundabout valley road. A shout rose, and Kyrin glanced back as several mounted men swung from formation and raced to cut them off. The setting sun washed their helmets, chain-mail, and tunics in hazy gold.
Berd and Twr made it into the trees a length ahead of her, glancing over their shoulders. Kyrin urged her horse under the leafless branches, and the trunks split them from each other.
Shouts and the thud of hooves echoed between tree-trunks. One of the shadows resolved into a man who swung his horse before Kyrin’s. His shod foot struck her leg and he raised a short spear as his mount surged against the mare. Kyrin leaned back to avoid his thrust, her sword half-drawn.
His weapon struck her side and glanced off her leather belt. She let go of her sword and grabbed the spear shaft as it began to withdraw and yanked. The man slid toward her, releasing his spear as he struggled for balance. She whipped the shaft back at him, like a scythe on a wicked back-sweep, and toppled him from his mount.
More pursuers flickered in and out of existence under the trees. An arrow struck her horse’s rump and glanced aside. His stride lengthened.
A thicket parted, and Twr galloped toward her across a small clearing. Two spearmen closed in on him from either side. Then Berd was beside her, his mount’s hooves pounding along beside hers. Kyrin swerved away.
“Go!” Berd shouted. Sword out, he charged Twr’s attackers. Kyrin did not bother to answer, pulling her mount up to string her bow. She was ten times a fool for not stringing it before they started, and she should have worn her mail.
A blow across her back flipped her off her horse. She gasped for air, struggling toward her feet, her hands empty, numbness spreading across her back. There was a muffled squawk and a hard beak or talon pricked her stomach. Kyrin gasped.
A mounted archer circled her, grinning. Her bow was broken, a shattered limb sticking up from the ground. The spearmen were down, Berd’s saddle also empty though he stood, unarmed. Twr rode toward him, hand outstretched.
Then another archer came out of the trees, his arrow leveled at Kyrin, ignoring the men. The archer circling her cast a glance at his rival, cursed, and drew on her.
Berd leapt for the second mounted archer as Kyrin jumped, desperately striving for height with all the power of her legs gained kicking straw men off Ali’s garden wall. She was aware that Berd crashed into the second archer’s horse as she came up and lashed out, her axekick wiping her attacker’s bow-arm across his body—then her other boot took him in the throat—even as the second archer’s arrow whipped past her ear with a wicked, thick-voiced whisper.
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