Excerpts from Forging the Half-Goblin Sorcerer

This book is written for fantasy junkies. It takes the reader to a world that has just entered its Iron Age. It is a time when kings battle kings for revenge and survival, and sorcerers and alchemists pit magic against science. It tells the story of a half-goblin orphan, Trak, who is hated by both goblins and humans. The half-goblin is born in a world torn by racial hatred. He endures the spite of bigots, as he struggles to be accepted. When he finds love that too is taken from him by fate. It will not surprise regular fantasy readers that the half-goblin eventually overcomes his humble beginnings.
Trak’s destiny becomes clear when the earth is overrun by white goblins fleeing the Underworld. His magic is critical in the battle between the surface dwellers and a malevolent demigod who seeks domination over the earth. But which side does Trak support? Be warned, this tale has many twists and turns that will keep the reader guessing as the final battle between good and evil unfolds.

Before Time, an orange light watched in darkness.
The Earth Spirit saw all things, knew all things.
It spoke the First Eloquence. The Earth formed.
A place for what was to be, both good and evil.
Last to emerge was Septan—Wonder Worker.
He delivered those seeking the light—First Sowing.
The Spirit slept, Septan absorbed its evil—splitting Father-Mother.
Overcome, Septan’s light extinguished.
The Chronicles of House Dragon


The veteran of Dragon’s Belly sat against the cold stone wall of the city prison. He spoke loudly enough for the other prisoners to hear.
“Aye, our soldiers held the high ground, for what good it did ‘em. Me and Hogarth and the other palace guards, a hundred strong, stood at hill’s peak with the Ard Ri, King Giforing. From vantage, we watched down at our vanguard.”
“Our front rank was raw, as green of ear to the trade of killin’ as a Spore could be. When the men charged, I counted my skin lucky to nay be a party to those poor souls as they crouched behind their puny shields.”
“The humans’ war cries struck me true. I surely felt the chill. The voice in my head, which I hold in some regard, shouted, ‘Run,’ but my captain’s hardened voice shouted louder, ‘Stand!’”
“When the two lines ‘came one, the men smashed through with their heavy shields, swarming toward the hill’s peak. Their iron struck our wooden shields and kindling showered about. Our shields were not all that failed that day. Time to times again, I saw our bronze weapons break against the brutish weapons of man, forcin’ my brothers to fall back, if they were lucky, or be hacked down if they were not. No need to tell you, it was not the proudiest of days for the Spore. For every parry or block thrown against their iron weapons, a shield, a sword, or a brother lay broken in the dirt.”
“Nay three strides before me a massive, blood-soaked arm clutchin’ an iron sword rose in the air. By the Stones, with a single stroke, it cleaved Spore and shield in twain.” The old veteran waived his fleshless arm in the air to dramatize the deadly blow. “The man’s helm hid ‘is pig face. It was just as well. Nothing is more terrifin’ than a man’s grisly maw, screamin’ for murder.”
“Our vanguard quickly grew weary from the onslaught. Truth’s way, we had no decent path to strike back. The relentless assault squeezed our lines. Our nimble fighters had little room. When the Ard Ri ordered halberds forward to bolster the ragged line, we held our ground, but only for a spell. After nay a hundred breaths, the will of the Spore began to fold. The sun hadn’t broke over the hills ‘fore the north-way lay ringed and rattled with the bodies of the dead and injured, mostly Spore-kin.”
“Then Red, King of the Pig Faces, entered the fray. He and fifty strong attacked from the trees. There was little defense left on our west flank, and King Red made short work of it. Our west-way broken, the pig face king came lumberin’ straight for the Ard Ri. I heard Red shout, ‘Mince the squids into chowder!’”
“It took all my strength to counter the blows of my colossal opponent. My arm and shoulder ached from the poundin’. Suddenly, my shield snapped in twain. My arm left numb and useless at my side. I backed quickly and blocked with my sword. The sword flew apart. I fell to the ground holding nothing but the hilt. The monster lifted ‘is sword over ‘is head. I heard ‘is labored breathin’ and saw ‘is wicked blue eyes glarin’ through ‘is visor slits. I had to move, but I was frozen by pain and fear.”
“By the Stones, with ‘is next blow, I was crow bait. ‘Fore ‘e struck, a spear caught the pig in ‘is side. He tumbled backwards. Hogarth helped me stand. ‘Follow the Ard Ri,’ he shouted. I turned and saw King Giforing stumblin’ down the backside of the hill and enterin’ the lava field.”

From Chapter One

She picked up her large magnifying glass and looked into Trak’s eyes. He looked back startled. The glass puffed up the old Spore’s face. It was huge and distorted. The glass was some kind of magic, Trak thought. The old goblin handed the glass to Trak and said, “See what ye can learn about the world that ye didn’t know before ye came here.”
Trak passed the glass over his hand and realized it was covered by thousands of tiny creases. “My fingers are swirly,” Trak announced. The old goblin fetched some black soot from her hearth, dusted the tips of his fingers, and pressed them onto parchment. “This trick will make the patterns easier to study.”
Trak used the glass to study the swirly marks his fingers made on the parchment. “Does everyone have swirls on their fingers?” He wondered if being a cross-breed made his fingers different.
“Yes, everyone has the marks, but I have never found two people with the same marks,” she replied. “The patterns are more unique than a name. I believe your ancestors know your marks and can use them to recognize ye. Hang this parchment near where ye sleep and they will find ye.”
The boy left the cave believing he had discovered a way to be reunited with his family. “Haste ye back! There is much in the world that ye need to learn.” Months later, when Trak complained that the parchment didn’t work, the old goblin retorted, “Of course it did. Your ancestors now know exactly where ye be. Your problem is half solved. Now ye must find them.”

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