Troy Wiggins is an up and coming author with publications in the the Long Hidden and Griots anthologies.
Currently he is drafting a novel tentatively titled A War in White, which features a strong, capable, well-rounded WoC as the protagonist in a world filled with diversity and different cultures. The protagonist makes a living doing “favors” but gets caught up in a centuries old rivalry between ancient godlike beings that could ultimately destroy life as everyone knows it. Enjoy this excerpt from A War in White.
A lone elf lounged on the steps of the Keep. Like all of his people, his features were sharp and delicate. His frame was lean, almost predatory. The elf’s skin was ruddy and his eyes shone bright yellow. Wisps of brownish-red hair sprouted on his chin. Even though he seemed to have assimilated to life as an Imperial Solinian citizen, he was still dressed in the style of a hunter: hide breeches and vest, with feathers in his hair and ochre warpaint swirled under his eyes. A crude iron axe lay against his leg.
“Hail, Storm Daughter,” he said with a nod. His voice was near a whisper, and bells seemed to tinkle in its wake.
“Well met, Old one. What brings you this far north? Has hunting soured in the Western Wilds?”
The elf whipped out a short knife and started to pick his teeth. Carmen raised an eyebrow. “There be nothing out west for this one. Came all the way to the cold and gray, left the wood behind because this one thought that there be better hunting here…a mistake.”
“That’s disappointing. I was told that the hunting here is better than anywhere else in the High Northlands.”
“Whoever told you that be either a fool or a liar. this one’d bet all the coin in its pocket–which isn’t much, mind–that they be a little of both.”
Carmen watched the elf, but didn’t press him to speak further. After he picked the offending scrap from his teeth, he spat and shoved the knife back in his belt.
“Best be careful here, Storm Daughter. Nothing be as it is supposed to. Ever since this one stepped one toe into this place, the air has been foul. And the itching! This one wonders whether these humans ever wash themselves–no offense intended, of course.”
“None taken.” She reached into her satchel and pulled forth a roll of goatskin. “Two days ago I received this summons from a Solinian courier. I’m looking for Tharn Ironeye.”
Check back tomorrow for Troy’s Interview!
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