Liberation of Ghosts:Order of Ghosts Saga Book 3

War – Slavery – Revenge. Years hardened his resolve to end what he was thrust into. And end it will! 

The ship’s departure date is fast approaching, except Felix is nowhere near the port. A vast dry desert separates him and his rendezvous location.

Felix has other serious problems. Still a slave owned by the High-King, the Grand Master of the Order of Ghosts must negotiate his freedom while trying not to be pulled into the looming Civil War. However, there may not be a price too steep Felix is willing to pay for his freedom. 

Will Felix be able to end what was started or will the Civil War be the end of this Grand Master?

If you thirst for painful magic, gruelling fights, and revenge, then you will love this action-packed story written by Nathan Pedde.

Grab a copy of Liberation of Ghosts today.

Chapter One Preview


Felix the Swift sat on top of a dune in the middle of the Ta’arquan Desert. He wore nothing but a loincloth, ignoring the sun. His olive skin and bald head resembled a tomato. His tattoos glowed as he used a runic spell to help heal the damage.

He held a jewel in his hand, Felix used it to take away a fragment of his pain. With it, he used his increased senses spell to see farther than his eyes. He left his body and soared like a bird in the sky. The spell strained him as he searched along the water, watching the water rip and roar.

A hundred miles behind him was the city of Bogaren, called “The City of Bones.” Bogaren was a city built on a hill made from the bones of ancient giants. It was a city Felix had destroyed. It wasn’t by choice. The rulers had damned the city’s source of water for themselves. The resulting battle unblocked and set loose a torrent of water that cascaded through the streets. It poured away from the city and into the valley below.

Like a lost child, the new river hunted for its lost riverbank. The water roared across the landscape like a mad, hungry dragon, swallowing and spitting out anything it came across, hunting for the sea. The desert swallowed its old banks long ago. Water plowed through the land, pushing desert sand, rocks and any soul caught in its path.

Felix let out a breath and deactivated his runes. He came back to his body with a slam. Blackness engulfed him as he rested his increased senses spell. Felix was blind, and he scoffed at how close the analogy was to real life.

The spectral release spell was one spell he could use with his illusion, spectral and soul runic sequence. A single rune allowed one type of runic magic. If he activated the fire rune, he could cast fire magic. The spectral release spell used a series of three runes. It allowed him to travel outside of his body and scout far away or use echolocation to see the world around him. Both of which strained and caused him pain. Magic was his life, and magic was comprised of pain.

Only death would relieve Felix of it. The pain and the overuse of magic caused him to lose his eyesight. Felix desired a solution for getting his eyes back.

Felix stood up, pulling his robe on, the blistering wind attempted to blow it away like a sail. He slid down the sandy hill toward a small caravan sitting in a valley between multiple sand dunes.

Eslici stood in front of him, she was a merchant trader helping transport Felix and his ghosts across the desert to the coast. Her long black hair was pulled back into a braid. Eslici was shorter than Felix, but not by much, the owner of the caravan, she cut an imposing figure among the bald magic users.

The caravan was comprised of eight camels loaded with goods, the camel drivers, a dozen caravan guards, and the members of his order. She was a slave trader, except Felix thought it wasn’t by choice. The Kingdom of Ta’arqa, a desert nation far south from the temperate north of the Empire of Aurre, used slaves as a sizable portion of their labor.

Felix the Swift was the Grand Master of the Order of the Ghosts. A secret magical group with the goal of restoring magic to its former glory. A handful of magic users made up his group. All of them desired to flee Ta’arqa. The major issue was that himself and a few members of his order were slaves themselves.

“See anything?” Eslici asked.

“No,” Felix said. “The water is trying to work its way through these dunes, splintering as it goes.”

“What do you mean, splintering?” Eslici asked.

“It’s meandering and pushing debris every which way.”

“Shouldn’t it follow the path of least resistance?”

“Except these hills are giving the water a hard time finding its way,” Felix said.

“Same with us,” Eslici muttered. “We can’t seem to find our way.”

“I hope it’ll find a painless way through. Perhaps run lower so we can pass.”

The caravan attempted to find a ford through the torrent of water. The twin rivers of Ta’arqa and civilization, were three days walk once they crossed. The new river ran parallel to the old ones and was rough and wild. There was no direct path across because it was so deep. The only choice was to follow the river to where it’s junction to the old one. The problem was, they kept walking into dead end peninsulas because the river splintered around the sand dunes.

It had turned an eight day walk along the road to a three-week wander around the hills.

“At least we don’t have a problem finding water,” Felix said.

“Funny,” Eslici said.

Felix walked to the caravan and stood next to a camel.

“It would be better if we could find a way to hide from the blasted sun,” Eslici continued, as she raised her voice to him. “Travel at night when it’s cool.”

“I see no shelter out here.”

“Thank you, Mr. Obvious.” Eslici scoffed. “We leave in five minutes. Drink some water before you turn into an Aurrian raisin.”

Eslici spun on her heals and marched to the front of the line of camels.

Iratus walked up behind Felix and sat under the shade of a camel. His robes wrapped around his body, protecting his runes and olive skin from the harsh sun. A plain cloth was wrapped around his head and secured with a cord. Since the day the Duke of Draada captured and shipped Felix off into slavery, Iratus had been by his side.

“No luck with the sight?” Iratus asked.

“No,” Felix said. “The jewel has helped, but I need to find out how to get my eyesight back.”

“I meant the spectral release spell thingy,” Iratus said.

“I still haven’t recovered. My range is limited.”

“Oh,” Iratus said.

Iratus was silent, looking up at Felix. “We could build a raft and float down the river.”

“That would require wood,” Felix replied.

Thempta walked up to them and leaned behind the camel. She was Felix’s second and used to be his enemy. She stood as tall as Felix, with curves in all the right places. As a member of the Ghosts, she wore the same loose-fitting robes with the telltale bald head.

After living around bald women all the years, he had been in Ta’arqa, he was still not used to them. To Felix, a woman should have hair.

“I bet I can swim across,” Thempta said.

“I can jump across,” Felix said, “with a simple wind rune to push me forward. What do we do about those without magic?”

“Toss them?” Thempta asked.

Felix glared at her.

From the back of the line strode Alexis, Felix’s sister. She looked like his twin, she was older than Felix by a few years and she had the breasts and hips of a woman. She was also a magic user, with loose robes and a similar bald head.

“I can fly across,” Alexis said, mentioning her preferred runic sequence. “I can even transport the people one by one. But what do we do about the camels? I can’t carry a camel.”

Felix turned to her, a grin on his face.

“As the saying goes. Hit the nail on the head,” Felix said. “How do we get the camels across the river?”

Jaeger walked down the line of camel drivers and camels to Felix. He stood taller than Felix, with orange hair and loose-fitting clothes. He wasn’t from Aurre. Jaeger was the fool who transported him to this blasted land and sold him as a slave to the Talabaers.

For years Felix hated the man, now he understood his God, Mr. Magician, had nudged Jaeger to bring him to Ta’arqa. The God needed to use Felix and there was little he could do to stop what he needed to do. He didn’t feel like a Grand Master, instead he felt more like a pawn.

“If someone hadn’t created a new bloody river,” Jaeger said, “then we wouldn’t have this mess.”

Felix glared at the man. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t throw you into the river and see if you can swim?”

“We made a deal,” Jaeger said.

“That may be,” Felix said. “But don’t test me. I may leave you for dead.”

Jaeger narrowed his eyes and glared at him.

“All right, people,” Eslici yelled from the front. “Break over. Time to move.”


The camels trekked along the desert in the valley between the sand dunes. Tied behind them were a line of slaves. Some were men, but most of them were women. Two female slaves were soft, new, and the daughters of a nobleman. They were sold into slavery by their father for having an orgy with a servant, who had his throat slit for his troubles. Felix blotched their romp, knocking them unconscious in pursuit if a heist.

Felix caught up with Eslici, staying away from the slaves.

“What’s your plan with the slaves?” Felix asked.

“You want to buy them?” Eslici asked.

“No,” Felix said.

“You feel responsible?”

“I don’t like slavery.”

“Spoken like a former slave,” Eslici said. “Or are you still a slave?”

“I am. But I aim to change that,” Felix said.

“I can sell them to Muphaeso,” Eslici said. “But I might not with this lot.”

Felix kept his face neutral, not wanting to betray his emotions.

“To tell you the truth,” Eslici said. “I have no intention to stay in the country. I want to leave and never look back. I’m not suited to deal with mage battles.”

“I’ll do my best to get you out of the kingdom.”

He moved back along the line, taking up his place in the center.

The sun moved across the sky, dipping below the horizon. The caravan stopped between the dunes and set up make-shift tents. They were pieces of canvas draped over a rope attached to stakes.

The heat from the sun faded as quick as it had come. Felix had suggested they leave early before the sun rose again. Except, the sun wasn’t down for long and they needed rest.

He lay on the ground, looking up at the roof of the tent. He hoped sleep would come quick for him, but there was a howl echoed in the dark. A rock-hound in the hills, and from the sound of it, far in the distance.

A rock-hound was the scourge of the desert. It was a large gray canine with large, long poisonous claws. They had hard skin covered in fur, which made them hard to kill.

He used his increased senses spell to scan the surrounding area. After a moment, he slammed back into his body. There was nothing in the immediate area.

In the morning, with the sun still below the horizon, the first rays of the sun peeked above the land. Once the sun reached the sand, things would get hot once more.

He stood up and walked out of the tent. Thempta stood next to a camel, feeding it some grain.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Thempta asked.

“Rock-hounds,” Felix said. “I’ll be happy when I’m able to get away from this desert and get back home.”

“Tell me about your home,” Thempta said.

Felix frowned as he regretted his words.

“I…” Felix began.

“I’m sorry,” Thempta said. “Too bold of a question?”

“No,” Felix said. “It’s not.”

He paused, looking at the night sky.

“At least you have a town to call home,” Thempta said.

“That may be,” Felix said. “I have some memories that are good. But they are attached to people. Not the city.”

“That I understand,” Thempta said, “My family is—”

Felix remembered the cave back at the fort when they were enemies. How he had blown the fire back toward her.

“I’m sorry for that,” Felix said. “It’s just— I mean—”

Thempta placed her finger on Felix’s lips, shutting him up.

“That’s ancient history,” Thempta said.

“I know,” Felix said. “But had I known what would be happening now and how we would be—”

Felix stopped talking and looked down at his feet.

Thempta looked over and grabbed Felix’s robe, pulling him into her. She kissed him on the lips, Felix let her warmth fill him for a moment. After what seemed like an eternity, Thempta let go. It was only a few seconds.

“Sorry,” Thempta said. “I know we shouldn’t be doing that. But.”

“I never got a ruling about that.”

Thempta nodded and blushed.

“Were you going to tell me about Aurre?” Thempta said.

Felix glanced up at the sky.

The city of Draada, “Its walls, giant buildings — everything was made of stone and brick. I saw either the gutters, or alleys. Or the rooftops, and the bedchambers of the nobility.”

“Until you got caught,” Thempta said.

“Yeah,” Felix said as the camp stirred from their slumber. “But that’s a story for another day.”

The camp piled their tents onto camels, and they began walking along the path between the sand dunes. After two hours of walking with the blistering sun beating down on them. The land changed from sand dunes to hard packed earth.

Felix recognized the region. Not the exact landmarks, but the surrounding terrain The Ini River lay in a low valley weaving through the desert to the sea. The slight hills on the side of the river kept the new river to from flowing to the river. The new river had found a low valley to pour its water cascade through, cascading down the slight slope to the river valley below.

The valley was a sea of green where before it was shades of brown. Orchards, fields, and farms stretched along both sides of the river. It was an oasis of near paradise.

“I know this place,” Felix said.

Thempta turned to face him. “What do you mean?”

Below them, in the river’s path, was a small walled town, the city of Takala. It had stood on the banks of the river Ini along a hill. The water poured through the town, knocking down the mud-brick walls, shattering houses. The water battered its way through the city before joining the water of the old river.

“That’s where you tried to keep me locked from the city.” Felix said.

“I always wondered how you got past that,” Thempta said.

“Maybe one day I’ll tell you about it,” Felix said.

The caravan walked down the hill along the side of the river and toward the town. Felix didn’t want to look at the wrecked buildings. Eslici stopped part way down the hill.

“Are we stopping here?” Eslici asked.

“Do we need to?” Felix replied.

“Not really,” Eslici said. “They have little to sell.”

“Let’s head down river,” Felix said. “Is there a better way to get down?”

Eslici smiled as she stepped in beside him. She leaned into him with her voice kept low. Felix grinned as he looked around at the caravan. The caravan had spread out over the space of fifty paces in single file.

“We can rent a barge,” Eslici said. “If we can find one. But is that the best way for us to go?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not Ta’arquan,” Eslici said, “and I’m not a Talabaer.”


“If I go into the capital,” Eslici said. “Either I risk enslavement or enlistment”

“Aren’t you a licensed merchant?”

“My documents are forged.”

“Forged? Faked?”

“Hey. Keep your voice down.”

“Are you even a slave trader?” Felix asked. “I’ve noticed you and your men aren’t as good with the camels as I would’ve expected.”

“Do you need—”

“I put you closer to Jaeger,” Felix said. “A sailor.”

Eslici crossed her arms and glared.

“Maybe I’ll tell you one day. Right now. Don’t ask so many questions.”

Felix looked back at the caravan, to see if anyone was watching him. No one was, he turned back to Eslici.

“Didn’t you get orders from the High-Prince to find me?” Felix asked.

“Yes,” Eslici said. “But things were changing at the capital. Muphaeso is the High King now. He brought back the ban on foreigners. Told me to find you, then get out of the country and stay out of the capital.”

“Do you have a better plan?” Felix asked.

“Yes,” Eslici said. “I have a ship waiting for me and the caravanners.”

“What do you want to do?” Felix asked.

Eslici looked around at the people.

“Come with me,” Eslici said.

“Just me?”

“No,” Eslici said, “Idiot. Everyone.”

Felix glanced at the caravan once more.

“I’d like to,” Felix said. “But I have things to do at the Capital.”

“I’m sure you can do the things elsewhere,” Eslici said.

He shook his head.

“Can’t do that.”

“That means me and mine will—

“No,” Felix interrupted.

“Then what?”

“Take Thempta, the kid and Jaeger with you,” Felix said. “Make a run for the village.”

“What about you?”

“Iratus, Alexis, and I must go to the capital.”

Eslici bit her lip and fiddled with the hilt of a knife at her belt.

“Perhaps,” Eslici said. “The turn off isn’t for a while yet. We’ll travel together for a while.”

City of Bones: Order of Ghosts Saga Book 2

Once he was a thief, now a slave bent on revenge. 

Nothing is at it seems. Nothing happens the way he thought it would. Felix the Ghost is now the Grand Master of the Order of Ghosts. He is ordered to the City of Bones, to hunt down lost artifacts from the Chaos Times while being hunted by the Twins of Death. 

In order to gain the freedom he hungers for, Felix must complete this mission for his God. To go home and end the wrath of the vicious Duke who continues to enslave others, there is no such thing as failure. However, with the Twins of Death it leaves the question of—who is the hunter or the hunted? And can Felix survive this time? 

If you thirst for painful magic, gruelling fights, and revenge, then you will love this action-packed story written by Nathan Pedde. 

Grab a copy of City of Bones today.

Chapter One Preview


Thempta floated in nothingness. She looked to her left and to her right. Yet, she saw nothing but blackness. She tried to move and to swim through the vacuum. But no matter what she did, she couldn’t move. Thempta looked down, and she couldn’t see her arms. Worse yet, she couldn’t feel them.

Is this what it is like to be dead? Thempta thought. I was hoping the afterlife was going to be different than this.

She didn’t know how long she floated in the nothingness, running the thoughts of the past few weeks through her head. Her grandmother and family would all be dead. Either by the Talabaers or by High-Prince Maliok due to her own failure. It was the price of the contract that her grandmother made with Maliok. She was to serve him and be under his command. In exchange, she would get protection from their enemies.

It wasn’t until later did they find out the bastard wasn’t good on his word. However, it was too late. He had some psychopathic Malicros Mages working for him, which meant they could never betray him.

In the distance, a single white dot appeared. She looked at the growing white light and pondered what it was. It brought her attention back to her, bodiless, floating self. It grew more extensive as it filled her field of vision.

The pure white pushed back the endless nothingness she floated in, a stark contrast to the darkness which filled her vision a moment before.

Was it a moment? How long has it been? A minute? A year? If I’m dead, does it matter?

The black nothingness was pushed back and turned into a single dot that disappeared into the distance.

“Are you done feeling sorry for yourself,” a voice boomed behind her.

Thempta turned around, and a giant man stood upside down in front of her. His head was at her height, and his feet stretched out into the distance. He was taller than she could tell.

A God, Thempta thought. What do I do? Prostrate? Bow? Stand straight?

She attempted to prostrate herself but found she couldn’t move.

“Calm down,” the God said. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

“You are—”

“I’m a God, but not the one you think I am,” the God said. “You can call me Mr. Magician. A future friend of yours does.”

“Mr. Magician. Oh, Lord God,” Thempta said. “Am I dead?”

“No,” Mr. Magician said. “But you’re close to it.”

“Then what is this place?” Thempta said.

“You’re full of questions.”

“Apologies. Oh, Lord—”

“Shut it and listen.”

Thempta found she had lost the ability to speak.

“The darkness you saw was the corruption from the Evil One,” Mr. Magician said, “I’ve stolen you from him, and you’re now my servant. I’ve also taken your corrupted Rune away from you.”

She tried to speak, but still nothing came out.

“Right.” Mr. Magician waved his hand.

“Your servant?” Thempta said.

“Yes,” Mr. Magician said. “You do have free choice, but if you aren’t my servant, then you are his. Honestly, the term stealing is stretching it. He discarded you like an old shirt.”

Thempta took a deep breath as she controlled her thoughts. Do I have a choice?

“No,” Mr. Magician said.

“What am I?” Thempta asked.

“You’re no longer a mage of Malicros,” Mr. Magician said.

“Am I a Talabaer?”


Thempta was silent. If I am not a Malicros or a Talabaer, then what am I?

“You are a new thing,” Mr. Magician said.

“You can read my mind?”

“I’m a God.”

“What do you command of me?” Thempta asked.

Am image appeared in front of her, it was of the bastard Talabaer, the Ghost. The one who had defeated her not a moment before. Thempta involuntarily hissed at the image. If she had arms, she would be trying to strangle him.

“Good thing this is the space of time between two heartbeats,” Mr. Magician said. “Cause you’re going to stay here until you change your mind. The reasoning is that he’s now your boss, not that he knows it. Yet.”

“Boss? Wait. Time between two heartbeats?”

“Don’t worry,” Mr. Magician said. “You’ll remember every moment of this but won’t be able to speak a word about it to anyone.”

Thempta looked down, away from the image, but the image moved with her. It was like it was glued to her eyesight.

“Question for you,” Mr. Magician asked. “How long is it going to take to change your mind?”


Palma, the ex Talabaer, sat in the shade of a hillside, tired and hurt. She had no idea how Felix, the imbecile, had so much power. Even after she had managed to blind him. A stream of black smoke drifted into the sky above her.

Like all Talabaers and Malicros Mages, she was bald. Her olive-colored scalp was sunburnt and red. Her tattered, once white, robes lay by her feet. She wore nothing but a loincloth. Her tattoos glowed slightly in the shade.

She held a semi-clean shirt, which would be sleeveless and loose-fitting. She should be able to fit her arms inside her blouse to activate her runes.

Palma the Iron-Maiden. Or will the records call me as Palma the Traitor, Palma thought. If there’s anyone able to write it down.

She had betrayed her master, High-Prince Muphaeso. A few years before, she had been approached by her new master, High-Prince Maliok. She was offered money, power, and freedom if she served him for a year. She still had six years of servitude with Muphaeso.

For years she had been one of Muphaeso’s most-trusted Lieutenants. She was second only to him in the terms of Rank and Power. However, for all the years that she put in, she was never allowed to know the High-Prince’s mind and was kept at arm’s length.

Then the fool Felix came in and changed everything. She was still furious. She had been demoted to number three. Felix was given exclusive training with the High-Prince, and she was denied the same privilege. She was mad she wasn’t allowed into the inner circle.

Palma had betrayed her High-Prince and had let the Malicros Mages into the underground tunnels. Felix was blinded, but the fool was still able to fight. She had no idea how, but she had to admit that it was amazing to watch. If she wasn’t on the receiving end.

Around her were a dozen Mages of Malicros, some soldiers of Maliok, and her fellow Talabaer traitors. Not all could use magic, but of those who could, none of them were as powerful as she was.

There was a commotion from the top of a hill out of sight. A soldier, who wore Maliok’s garb and armor, slid down the path.

“Mistress Palma. Is this all who are left?” the woman asked.

“What does it look like?” Palma asked.

Palma didn’t let her answer the question. “Will you listen to me now?”

The woman opened her mouth to reply but was pushed aside by a bald Malicros. He stood shorter than the soldier, but he looked to be no older than fifteen. The kid was as tall as Palma and the muscles on his arms rippled. The boy was of the second rank.

“Why the hell should I listen to a Talabaer whore like you?” the kid yelled.

Before the boy could react, Palma activated her water rune.

“Fysalida-nerou,” Palma said, casting a spell.

A bucket’s worth of water flew at him and the fifteen-year-old was engulfed in the water bubble, which covered him from head to toe. Palma saw him thrash and kick in the water as he attempted to free himself.

“I’m now in charge,” Palma yelled. “You lot will listen to me. Do you agree?”

The soldier and mages nodded.

“Good,” Palma said before she looked at the boy in the bubble of water. “Puddles, will you listen to me, or shall I let you drown?”

The boy nodded.

“Are you sure?” Palma asked, “Because I can kill you by more violent means.”

The boy nodded with his hands clasped together in a prayer motion.

Palma deactivated the rune. The water poured from the boy to the ground and ran down the dry desert. Puddles, the boy, gasped for breath.

“Congratulations,” Palma said. “You get to live for another day.”

“Palma,” a familiar voice said from the side of the hill.

Palma turned and glanced at the person who spoke. Arlon stood by a large rock, in a dirty, ripped Talabaer robe.

Arlon had been the first recruit of Palma’s and the first to express interest in jumping ship. He was the one Talabaer who was trained to inscribe tattoos. As such, he knew the powers of each Talabaer.

“Do you have any word about what’s happening in the village?” Palma asked.

“The spies report they’re rebuilding the village,” Arlon replied.

“And the Fort?”

“It’s a crater,” Arlon said. “Whatever Felix did won’t be repaired anytime soon. If at all.”

Palma turned to the female Maliok soldier.

“You,” Palma said. “What’s your name?”

“Veroni,” she replied.

“Did you get a good look at the Fort?”

“No, Mistress,” Veroni said. “We’re too far away, and a hill blocks the view.”

“Just that cloud of black smoke,” Palma said. “Great.”

Palma looked at the soldiers and Mages who stood with her. The group looked beat up. The fight had been a close thing. Yet, they had lost, and they knew it. All of them had lost brothers and friends in the battle.

“Listen,” Palma said. “I know we’re hurting. It was supposed to be an easy fight, but it didn’t turn out that way. If you want to get revenge and kill those who killed your friends— our friends, to hold your heads high. Especially when we see High-Prince Maliok next, then you need to follow me. Cause I have a plan. Who’s with me?”

The soldiers nodded with agreement, even Puddles.


Primus Laelius Capito leaned against the mast of the quinquereme Imperial Legacy. The five rows of oars churned the water and pushed it rapidly through the water. The highly trained sailors of the Imperial Navy knew their job and knew it well.

He looked across the bay at the glittering city of Daedius, Ta’arqa capital city. The white limestone walls glowed in the sunlight, especially in the setting sun. It acted as a beacon to all ships passing by. They weren’t sailing to the city today but were sailing away from it.

Laelius wore his light tunic and pants which were especially well suited for time out of combat and at the sea. It was the uniform of an off-duty legionnaire. The shoulders of his tunic were marked with an eagle, a sign of his high rank. It separated him from the rank and file of his men.

The trip from Aurre had been long and stressful. The salt air had wreaked havoc on the state of his bronze armor. Within a week, it had turned a shade of green in places. Laelius had spent all his available free time to pick the corrosion from the nooks and crannies applying oil to protect the armor. He had to be the example for the rest of his men.

Below decks were two hundred legionnaires under his command, First Century. Double the strength of the standard hundred men unit of his cohort.

“Primus,” Ambassador Maximus Kaesear said, stepping on deck behind Laelius.

The ambassador was a larger man with broad shoulders built up from a lifetime leading his legions. However, a gut revealed he had spent the last half-decade avoiding anything physical. He wore a similar tunic and pants as Laelius did but wore a purple sash across his shoulder to signify his birth rank as a member of the royal family.

Kaesear carried two glasses of beer. As the ambassador approached, he handed Laelius a cup, slamming it into his chest.

“Drink,” Kaesear said. “You need to smile more. It’ll help.”

“Sir, may I ask a question?” Laelius asked.

“Of course. I’m always open to questions,” Kaesear replied.

“With the High-King—”

“He’s not the High-King,” Kaesear said. “Not yet, at least. He needs to hold onto the crown.”

“With him rejecting our offer,” Laelius said, “is it wise to go to his brother?”

“The question is not whether it is wise to go to his brother,” Kaesear said, “but is it wise not to. We need support and trade from the Ta’arqians. We need to keep their exotic goods flowing to Aurre. The coming civil war will be exactly what we need to do just that.”

Laelius realized he asked a question a mile higher than his rank allowed. He was glad he asked it in private over a cup of beer.

“Yes, sir,” Laelius said. “Forget that I said anything.”

Kaesear waved away Laelius’s comment, “There’s nothing to apologize about. You’re my right hand. You, dear boy, are going places. You have to stick with me.”

“Yes, sir,” Laelius said, a bead of sweat dripped from his forehead.

“Join me for an early supper,” Kaesear said, “and we can go over the plan. I have much to tell you.”

Felix the Fallen: Order of Ghosts Saga Book 1

When the mad Duke raged, Felix’s world changed.

Felix the Swift is the best thief in the city and the pimple on the Duke’s rear end. When his last, grandest job goes wrong, it costs him a steep price – his entire family, including himself are sold into slavery to pay for his crimes.

Felix is dragged across the globe, from slave owner to owner, and thrown into a world of magic. He must face High-Princes, assassins, traitorous brothers, Gods, and the scorching heat of the desert. With more at stake than Felix is aware of, he must overcome obstacles laid against him; to find a way back to his homeland and free his family.

If you thirst for painful magic, grueling fights, and revenge, then you will love this action-packed story written by Nathan Pedde.

Grab a copy of Felix the Fallen today and see the wonder.

Chapter One Preview

Dawn sluggishly broke over the ancient city of Draada. Gathered around the eastern gate were citizens, workers, tradesmen, and merchants. They all waited for the gates to open for the sole purpose of leaving the city. Some headed to the outer city, while others were headed father away in the Empire of Aurre.
The Aurrians weren’t waiting for the same reason as Felix the Swift. He stood at the gate of the city waiting for it open with the morning sun. Being awake this early wasn’t a typical activity for someone who made a living prowling rooftops for easy pulls.
Felix was not only a thief, but he considered himself an exceptional thief for a sixteen-year-old. Among the thieves of Draada, who Felix called his competition, sixteen was considered an old veteran. Most thieves in the city started as children, some would say sixteen was passed prime. Most thieves either ended up as slaves or in the Legions as punishment for their crimes.
Felix was tall and skinny, weighing only eight stones. He was dressed in the dirty, rough sewn clothes of the working class. Felix’s preference was to dress in dark trousers and long tunics, as it was easier to work in the shadows of the night.
The gate was rock-hard oak with a bronze alloy sheathing, which protected the wood from fire. The gatehouse and city walls were hundreds of years old with the walls built at a time of the last Aurrian civil war. The walls were as thick as three men lying in a line and as tall as seven men standing on each other’s shoulders — withstanding attacks from unwelcome people.
A couple guards looking bored on either side of the gate. They were dressed in bronze armor with the tabard of Draada over top. They held spears and carried sizable curved tower shields on their backs. All of it was in disrepair.
Felix stood to the side and studied the crowd. It was something he did without any thought. He could tell which merchant or tradesman was armed or if they had anything that could be stolen. Packs and packages were strapped to backs of slaves or piled high onto handcarts.
A figure in a dark corner caught his eye. The young woman wore a long dark cloak with a hood and watched the crowd like Felix. At least Felix guessed she was a woman. Felix could make out the shape of her hips and breasts underneath the cloak.
Felix wasn’t even sure why his eyes caught the woman. There were bound to be more important things to study. A light flashed in the corner, and then the woman was gone. Felix scanned the crowd and couldn’t find her.
Across the street Effie, his apprentice, weaved through the crowd. He watched her pick a pocket of a plump merchant as she sauntered her way across the road.
Effie was fourteen years old. She stood up to his chest, and Felix was sure he could pick her up one-handed to throw her across the street without any real effort on his part.
Not that he had ever tried. She always kept knives on her. He has seen the result of any male encounter with them, they were usually left behind in a gutter, in a pool of their own blood.
“You’re up early,” Effie said.
“You’re up late,” Felix replied. “Busy night?”
“Not bad. I’m waiting for a couple contacts to get in on a nice pull. You?”
“I’m working on a big one,” Felix replied. “I’ll need you in on this.”
“What’s the cut?” Effie said. “I want a fair share.”
“Eighty-twenty is not fair?”
“I’m not twelve anymore.”
Felix looked down at Effie, who had her hands on her hips. “Fine. Sixty-forty. Your part’s to be a distraction. Forty’s good, considering the pull.”
Effie groaned. “Not the Duke. Anything but the duke.”
“I’ll tell you later. Now, why are you up so late?”
“I’ve got some information that may interest you.”
“Please tell.”
Effie looked at Felix and then the gate. “Wait. Your brother’s coming to town, right?”
“That’s what his letter said, according to father.”
“That complicates things and confirms it too,” Effie said. “The Duke has it out for you. He wants your name in stone.”
“What does that even mean? Name in stone?”
“You’re such a moron sometimes. Gravestone. I thought it was clever.”
Felix grunted in response and let the subject drop, returning his attention to the large gate in the distance.
He hoped the sun took its sweet time rising today. He didn’t want the gate to open. On the other side of the gate was his older brother, whom Felix had no intention of seeing ever again.
Felix’s father had other plans. The old man had demanded Felix make sure his brother arrived, then to let him know where they were living. Felix’s large family moved around a lot, as his father was poor and continuously behind on rent.
It didn’t bother Felix. He had a small flat which he rented on his own. He only pretended to live at his father’s house, and no one asked how a young man his age could afford a flat by himself.
“I said you’re not listening,” Effie said.
“Sorry,” Felix said. “You were telling me that the Duke wants me gone. I heard you. He has a nice fat bounty on my head.”
“For a while at that, but that’s beside the point.”
Movement by the gate stole Felix’s attention from his apprentice. The two city guards looked at a sun signal, a device from olden times. It glowed blue when the day had started, which unlocked the massive gate.
Felix heard it used magic to glow, and the first Duke of Draada, an Arch-Mage, built the device himself. He thought the idea of magic being real was idiocy. It didn’t exist. Magic was something belonging to charlatans and liars. Yet as the sun peeked over the horizon, the sun signal glowed blue.
From the street, a Priest of Reaur walked around up to the wall in a slow, stately march. The man was dressed in dark blue robes with a hood covering his face. He chanted words Felix didn’t understand in a low grumble.
The priest reached the sun signal and stretched out his right hand, touching it. The magical device stopped glowing, and a loud click echoed around the city gate.
The city guards marched over to the city gate and unlatched it. As the gate was unlatched, it slowly cranked backward. The bottom of the gate lifting into the air away from Felix and the city. When the gate reached horizontal, a long wood post locked the gate in place.