Four for Free

Yep, that’s right. Four books for free. Today only.

So now it’s The Wounded King and The Elder as well as Red and Gold

Red & Gold Final-cover

and the full-length Martuk the Holy.

Martuk-Ebook-Cover-Tim-Amazon

Do you need to know Martuk’s story before reading TWK, The Elder and R and G? Nope. Those three — and The Martuk Series in general — are not only a prequel to what happens in Martuk, but also a continuing narrative removed from — and, in some cases, watching from a distance — what’s happening as this Man from the Mountains arrives.

Already familiar with what happened in Martuk? Then TWK, The Elder and R and G will offer a deeper, richer backstory, a more detailed fleshing out of these “secondary” characters, and a Why for the What of what they did (some of it horrific) in Martuk. It will help you see the human consequence behind the cruelty and reveal the wounded heart driving the monster.

In short, they’re a wonderful addition to what was started in the novel while being their own stand-alone reads.

So, today only. Four for free.

Pick ’em up. 🙂

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It Continues.

With The Wounded King still free, now it’s time for the sequel, The Elder, to be free as well.

So it is.

The Elder Final-cover

In The Elder, the latest installment of The Martuk Series, Jonathan Winn, author of Martuk … The Holy, digs deeper into the world of ancient Uruk. A world of power and absolute rule. Of magic and superstition. Of Dark Gods and mysterious Ancients, magical Immortals and unseen Seers. Of powerful Priests cloaked in robes of red and gold and a Man from the Mountains who has yet to arrive.

From the innocence and depravity and blood-drenched chaos of The Wounded King, we now follow The Elder, a Priest desperate to rule, blinded by power, afraid to die. A man who climbs deep into caves beneath sun-scorched mountains and sacrifices anonymous flesh in a blood-stained Temple. A desperate soul driven by words whispered from the lips of a doomed Child and haunted by the warnings of an Immortal buried in ash. One who makes an impossible choice for the promise of Life Everlasting and, riddled by doubt, chooses again, this final act of violent desperation opening the way for an ancient curse from a Darkness older than Time.

From the whispered pleas to the Darkest of Gods to the anguished screams of the stolen innocent, this is … The Elder.

How cool is that? Oh, and here’s a review of The Elder from Amazon:

Once again Jonathan Winn has successfully made me cringe with yet another wonderfully descriptive piece. I loved Martuk…the Holy, and these short stories that delve into other characters from the story line are just fabulous. Never before have I had to set a book down and take a breath in order to regain some composure. The vivid imagery that Winn brings forth in his writing is amazing. I can see and feel every bone popping, tendon splitting, blood curdling scene that he describes.

Winn’s style is unique and special. Go out and read Martuk if you have not already, then devour this series after! If you’re looking for a great book that will make the hair on the back of your neck stand up and your face cringe, then look no further.

And tomorrow? Yep, you guessed it. Red and Gold, the third in the series.

Enjoy!

Elder … Priest … King … FREE!

Official blog post announcement coming soon. But until then, a small excerpt from The Elder, the sequel to The Wounded King which is, like TWK, free right now over on Amazon.

EXCERPT:

The word came again, lost in the earth as she lay on the ground. Fistfuls of dirt clutched in her tiny fists, her neck rolled, tender bones popping while The Seer nodded its head and the mouth open and closed, open and closed.

The Child stopped and rose, crouched on hands and knees.

“Man … ” she said before she fell to the ground. Her back arched, then released only to snap back into another arch, the head once again low.

“From the …” the words came, her face hidden behind her golden hair.

She collapsed.

The Seer ducked its chin to its flat chest, its large, long hands dropping to its side.

The tears came then as she wept, The Child. Her body convulsed with sobs, with hiccups. She tried to crawl away, slipping on the urine soaked ground, trapped by the rope around her wrists.

I leaned forward and reached my hand out. But not close enough to touch, to intrude.

“Man from the …?” I asked. “From the mountains?”

Whispers.

No …

Speak …

Silence …

The Seer raised its head, the long fingers splayed wide as they stretched and reached and grabbed the air, pushing away the Voices.

The tears stopped as The Child moaned and then grew quiet.

She abruptly rose to her knees, her back straight, arms to her side and her chin to her chest, the mouth now open as drool leaked from her lips.

“From the mountains?” I insisted.

It gasped, The Seer, its head back, the fingers quiet and still, the ribs rising and falling as it fought for breath.

The Child lifted into the air.

Her knees left the ground, her shins dropping to hang as she rose. The tiny feet dangled as she lifted higher and higher, her chin in her chest, her face still buried under a sheath of shining hair.

She stopped, waiting, suspended.

I paused, waiting.

“Elder … Priest … King,” she said, the voice low as it echoed the Whispers.

“Yes,” I replied, my voice weak.

“Yes,” I said again, stronger.

The head rose and the hair fell away from the sweet face. Her mouth stretched wide as she tried to speak, the jaw again a series of pops and cracks as it opened and closed, opened and closed.

“Yes,” I repeated.

She stopped, trapped in midair, the jaw frozen in a silent scream as The Seer attempted to speak through her.

And then she began to bleed.

The Elder Final-cover

A King for Free?

Wait, what? A  #book ? For #free ? On #Amazon ? This one? Yep. (please forgive the hashtags, but I’m trying to promo here, ya know?)

Listen, I’m a writer. You know that. But do you know what I actually do? Have you taken a peek at what I put on the page? If not, and if you’re still curious, here you go:

The Wounded King.

The Wounded King Final - cover

A sacrifice. A dying King. Bones in the stone, blood in the wine. A Queen consumed by the Darkness.

From ancient Uruk, The Almost King tells his tale. Of The Elder and his cunning Priests in their robes of red and gold. Of an Old Woman who can call the power of the Dark Gods. Of his mother, the Queen, and his dying brother, the King.

And of the Darkness, an evil from before the Time of the Moon. Inescapable, its hunger never-ending, its shadow fed by the Priests, slowly overwhelming his family.

Drowning in a sea of red and gold, the Almost King battles an unwinnable war as he navigates the wreckage towards his fate as … The Wounded King.

The Wounded King is the first in a short fiction series based on the full-length novel Martuk … the Holy. But not only am I running a Free Promo for The Wounded King, I’m following it with free promos for The Elder and Red & Gold (books Two and Three of The Martuk Series) with Martuk … going for free on Halloween.

Cool, huh?

new look for The Elder

In the run-up to the release of Red and Gold, the third installment in The Martuk Series, I’m sharing the NEW cover to The Elder.

The Elder Final-cover

 

Once again, cover artist Timothy Burch knocks it outta the park.  Don’t you agree?  🙂

 

a new Wounded King

Sorry, kids, but there ain’t nothing better than getting a brand spanking new cover for one of your books.

And that’s what’s happening with The Martuk Series, an ongoing collection of Short Fiction inspired by my award-winning full-length novel Martuk … the Holy.

First up for the face lift was The Wounded King, next will be The Elder, and then Red and Gold, the third in the series, will be making its debut.

But I don’t want to jump the gun and upload the new TWK cover until the one for The Elder is finished, so … here’s a teeny, tiny sneakity peek.

 

The-Wounded-King-Aug13-crop

 

And that’s just a glimpse of the awesomeness to come.  🙂

 

warriors and Queens

The great thing about writing sequels — my creative mind currently ensconced in Red and Gold — is revisiting earlier work and, pushing all that useless false modesty aside, remembering just how damn good you are.

Ergo, an excerpt from the most recent in The Martuk Series, The Elder:

 

The Child had stopped, her body still, her blood-drenched toes far from the ground, her face stained red as she watched me with bleeding eyes.

The Seer had stopped, the bent body now still, waiting.

The wolves were quiet, their bodies hidden in the dark, waiting.

She spoke, The Child, her words silently on The Seer’s lips.

“Made of ash, of stone, burning from the bones, warriors and Queens, a woman trapped in time, a rival drawing near, hatred, love, pain, hatred, love, pain, hatred … ”

The bones crunched and snapped as her head circled, the neck rolling chin to chest and then back, her jaw snapping open and shut.

Then she paused.

Breathed.

And spoke again.

“He will come, the one you seek, with the death, the life, stepping through the light, walking on the bones.”

She then closed her eyes as she bent back, back, back, her bones snapping with a crack as she broke her back, the golden locks of her silken hair touching the delicate heels of her tiny feet.

The body dropped to the ground.

From the shadows, the wolves pounced.

The Seer breathed deep, heavy, thick.

I stretched out and rested my head, the Whispers drowning me as the world spun and throbbed and tilted.

Fiend …

Evil …

She waits …

Who? I asked, my eyes closing.

She comes …

The wolves dragged the broken Child away, jaws around her skull, her arm, even the delicate heel, hungry to rip and shred the succulent flesh and gnaw the tender bones.

Who? I asked again, the cool soil against my face, my forehead.

I opened my eyes, the air too hot, the rank taste of bile on my tongue, and the thick scent of age and rancid sweat and death in my nostrils.  And from the shadows the wet sound of the girl being devoured as the wolves ripped and shredded and tore in my ears while the world heaved and lurched.

The sound of wings.  Great wings.  From behind me they came, the unexpected whoosh, whoosh, whoosh coming closer.

But I was too tired.  Too tired and too sick.  Too sick and too weak and too confused, the ground buckling and spinning too much for me to keep my eyes open, to turn, to see what had wings.  Wings too large and too great.

She comes …

From the mountains? I asked with a sigh as I exhaled and ended the fight, allowing darkness to take me.

From the ash …