Prologue - Short
Distant thunder rumbled as the men prepared to ride.
"We'd best be quick if we’re not to be caught in a downpour," said the captain of the guards.
The king agreed.
The wind whipped overhanging branches and swirled leaves about them as they rode hard and fast along the winding and hilly road from North Queensferry to Kinghorn.
The rush of the wind in the trees sounded like the continuous crashing of surf on a shore, but when they were halfway to Kinghorn, they clearly heard a voice calling from the darkness.
"King Alexander, where do ye ride tonight?" the voice moaned through the wind.
The king felt the hairs on his neck rising as he recalled Lord Douglas's warning.
The captain of the guards signaled for his small company to halt and take up positions about the king. "Who's there?" he demanded. "Reveal yourself." Read More
Excerpt from Death of A King, © 2013, Andrew H. Vanderwal, published by Tundra Books.