The Bone Conjurer. Alex Archer

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      “I’ll give you twenty-four hours to bring the skull to me.

      “If you do not comply, at precisely five minutes beyond the twenty-four-hour mark, I will kill you. Got it?”

      Annja nodded. “How am I supposed to find you?”

      Serge leaned close and hissed in her ear. “The Linden Hill cemetery off Starr Street. Tomorrow morning, this time.”

      “A graveyard? Swell,” she mumbled.

      Something sharp pricked her wrist. Annja let out a yelp as what felt like a knife entered her flesh and, with a forceful shove, traveled through to bone.

      Serge gave the instrument a twist. Annja screamed. Agony felled her to her knees. Serge tugged it out and stepped back.

      Struggling to maintain consciousness, and looking up to see the weird tubelike blade he tucked inside his coat, Annja reached out—for what, she didn’t know. It seemed as though something should come to her hand. Something that could protect her.

      Instead, she fell forward and blacked out….

      Titles in this series:

      Destiny

      Solomon’s Jar

      The Spider Stone

      The Chosen

      Forbidden City

      The Lost Scrolls

      God of Thunder

      Secret of the Slaves

      Warrior Spirit

      Serpent’s Kiss

      Provenance

      The Soul Stealer

      Gabriel’s Horn

      The Golden Elephant

      Swordsman’s Legacy

      Polar Quest

      Eternal Journey

      Sacrifice

      Seeker’s Curse

      Footprints

      Paradox

      The Spirit Banner

      Sacred Ground

      The Bone Conjurer

      Rogue Angel

      The Bone Conjurer

      Alex Archer

       www.mirabooks.co.uk

      THE LEGEND

      …THE ENGLISH COMMANDER TOOK JOAN’S SWORD AND RAISED IT HIGH.

      The broadsword, plain and unadorned, gleamed in the firelight. He put the tip against the ground and his foot at the center of the blade. The broadsword shattered, fragments falling into the mud. The crowd surged forward, peasant and soldier, and snatched the shards from the trampled mud. The commander tossed the hilt deep into the crowd.

      Smoke almost obscured Joan, but she continued praying till the end, until finally the flames climbed her body and she sagged against the restraints.

      Joan of Arc died that fateful day in France, but her legend and sword are reborn….

      CONTENTS

      PROLOGUE

      CHAPTER 1

      CHAPTER 2

      CHAPTER 3

      CHAPTER 4

      CHAPTER 5

      CHAPTER 6

      CHAPTER 7

      CHAPTER 8

      CHAPTER 9

      CHAPTER 10

      CHAPTER 11

      CHAPTER 12

      CHAPTER 13

      CHAPTER 14

      CHAPTER 15

      CHAPTER 16

      CHAPTER 17

      CHAPTER 18

      CHAPTER 19

      CHAPTER 20

      CHAPTER 21

      CHAPTER 22

      CHAPTER 23

      CHAPTER 24

      CHAPTER 25

      CHAPTER 26

      CHAPTER 27

      CHAPTER 28

      CHAPTER 29

      CHAPTER 30

      CHAPTER 31

      CHAPTER 32

      CHAPTER 33

      CHAPTER 34

      CHAPTER 35

      CHAPTER 36

      CHAPTER 37

      CHAPTER 38

      CHAPTER 39

      PROLOGUE

      Granada, Spain, 1430

      Cool palace walls offered welcome respite from the thick August heat. Dusty air clogged at the back of Garin Braden’s throat. While journeying from the Christian lands of Castile to the great Muslim palace of Alhambra the two men had stopped frequently and rested much.

      His master’s horse was a fourteen-hand destrier of Arabian blood, but bred more for battle than long-distance travel.

      Garin’s own mount was a pale rouncey dusted with red clay from the roads, on its last legs, surely. Their greater destination of Rouen, France—his master had been called to protect the Maid of Orléans—would not

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