Wingfeather Tales by Amdrew Peterson
Wingfeather Tales by Amdrew Peterson
Short Story Collection of Wingfeathers Saga
Summary:
Immerse yourself in a land of bomnubbles and quarreling cousins, sea dragons and book publishers, thieves and Fangs and secret maps. Here within these pages lie six stories of the distant past, lost adventures, forgotten songs, and heartbreaking histories. The Shining Isle is restored, but Aerwiar is vast--and these authors have tales yet to tell:
• Explore the inner walls of Yorsha Doon, just West of the Woes of Shreve, on the edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness, from the eyes of young Safiki in “The Prince of Yorsha Doon” from the creator of Aewiar, Andrew Peterson.
• Jennifer Trafton's warm and whimsical writing brings to life a publishing nightmare populated by the many beasts of Skree in “The Wooing of Sophelia Stupe.”
• Learn the origins of Ollister Pebmrick's mysterious entry in the Creaturepedia about his encounter with a raggant in “Willow Worlds” by N. D. Wilson.
• Travel with young Podo Helmer on an epic hunt for sea dragons in “From the Deeps of the Dragon King” from A. S. Peterson.
• Jonathan Rogers presents “The Ballard of Lanric and Rube,” sung by Armulyn the Bard, tale-spinner of the imaginary Shining Isle of Anniera, in On the Edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness.
• Discover what life was like for Maraly and Gammon in post-war Skree in “Shadowblade and the Florid Sword"—the first-ever Wingfeather comic—by Andrew Peterson.
• Douglas McKelvey's epic, heartbreakingly hopeful novella "The Places Beyond the Maps” recounts a father's journey to redemption.
Enter a rich, imaginative world that becomes more real, more mysterious, more dangerous, and more beautiful with each story's telling.
Opening Lines:
South of the Killridge Mountains, west of the Chasm, north of the Jungles of Plontst, and east of the Dark Sea of Darkness lay the broad and blighted wasteland of white stone and red sand called the Woes of Shreve. The Woes were lethal. No human could survive there because the blistering sunlight would sizzle their skin and bake their bones in a matter of minutes--no human, that is, except those who managed to slather themselves with bloodrock dye, which was very expensive and very hard to come by. Hard to come by unless of course you owned one of the few bloodrock mines which were well-guarded by all manner of deadly things like assassins and mad Fangs (who survived the war) and packs of slidder vipes whose needle-teeth could skin a tahala whole in the time one could say, "Oh my, I'm all out of bloodrock dye and we're hours from shelter. It was nice knowing you."
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