The Witches of Andar by Author Ashlie Harris. Excerpts - Giveaway


The Witches of Andar
by Ashlie Harris
Genre: Fantasy



A trio of An-Kishar witches has unwittingly become involved in a royal coup. After saving the murdered king's son, the foursome takes shelter with a traveling theater troupe, hoping to stay in hiding until the Prince is able to reclaim his throne.

Fight alongside Malinda, Alice, and Justine to rid the kingdom of the dark magic that threatens to run rampant. Venture into the Hanging Ferns Forest, travel with the Thespian Connection, and help unravel the mysteries that lie within the realm of Andar!

"Alice!... You can't slap a Prince!" -Justine; The Witches of Andar- Book 1







Excerpt


Sweeping her graying hair out of her eyes for the hundredth

time, Malinda looked longingly out of the small kitchen

window as she slowly and steadily stirred the small bubbling

cauldron on the fire. Being the castle's head witch did have its

perks- this wasn't one of them.

Being the perfectionist she is, Malinda insisted on making all

of her concoctions herself. She couldn't abide having anyone

else tinkering with her precious ingredients and recipes, not

even Alice or Justine, her two closest friends. Alice didn't

seem to mind her finicky ways, though Justine's curious

demeanor had landed her on Malinda's ugly side on more

than one occasion.

A quiet, respectable witch, Alice Seawall was the matriarch of

the Scotsea tribe. Though it was Malinda who was the head

of the entire coven, the Anu Scotts, Alice acted as executor,

carrying out her many requests. Justine was Alice's protégé,

though a naïve and fanciful one at best.

The Anu Scotts were known as An-Kishar witches (An-Kishar

meaning "the joining of Heaven and Earth") and were widely

sought out over other branches of witchcraft, due to their

peaceful nature and ancient knowledge. Malinda, Alice, and

Justine served King Randir and the entire domain of Andar in

all matters from the trivial to the crucial.

With a few more deft turns of her enchanted ladle, Malinda's

remedy for the King's cousin, the Duke of St. Clair, was finally

ready to bottle. Why he'd asked for a hair enhancement tonic

was beyond her, though. He had locks even some women

were jealous of. But, she had learned early on not to question

royalty. She was especially reluctant to even deal with St.

Clair, but she really had no choice; he was the king's closest

living relative, after all. Corking the intricately inscribed glass

vial, Malinda sent it floating into the next room to land on

Alice's desk.

Looking up from her books and scrolls, Alice eyed Malinda.

"You know," she said, "you could just walk it over here. I'm

only five feet away. Or better yet, take it to him yourself, this

time. I'm not even close to being done transcribing these

spells."

Souring, Malinda replied, "Oh, fine. I'll do it. That

pompous Duke had better just take the bottle and let me on

my way, or so help me, I'll turn him into a... a..."

"A cat-dog?" supplied Alice, not even bothering to hide her

grin.

"Yes, Alice. A cat-dog, so he'll always be at war with himself."

With that, Malinda wrapped her woolen green cloak tighter

around herself and went off in search of the handsome, yet

devilish, Duke of St. Clair.



Excerpt


Raising their hands, they shouted in unison, “Scuto socio!" A

great, golden flash erupted from their palms, drawing

everyone's attention from the drama unfolding between

Justine, Prince Gregdan, and the Duke/King. The crowd

dispersed upon seeing the witches in action. Most feared the

unknown forces behind their magic and others could simply

sense the impending doom.

The shimmering shield spread it’s translucent tendrils until it

was completely encircling all three women. The Prince,

however, seemed to be just out of the spell’s reach. Muttering

another incantation, Malinda nodded her head and the

remaining guards dropped to the ground, completely

paralyzed. Justine, now free of the guards, made a break for

the Prince.

“Stop!” shouted the Duke, red-faced and veins bulging. He

stepped closer to Prince Gregdan so that he was within arms’

reach, and pointed to Justine. “You foolish girl! Do you not

know a losing battle when you’re in the middle of one?”

“The only loser here is you, King Ebrius,” retorted Justine,

filling the title with as much disgust and contempt as she

could muster.

“You would be wise to address me more respectfully, child,”

warned Ebrius. “I may take pity on you yet. I do tend to

prefer a feisty redhead,” he winked and Justine could feel her

stomach churning in response. “Just think,” he said, “like it or

not, I am King. You could be my Queen.”

Being an An-Kishar limited Justine’s knowledge of harmful

spells, but she’d always been good at improvising. She

recalled the incantations she’d been helping Alice transcribe

before their world had been shattered into a million pieces.

Remembering a partial spell, and with more confidence than

she felt, Justine summoned every ounce of her love and anger

and bellowed, “Konfleur aphida!”

Nothing happened and, for a moment, Justine thought she’d

done the spell incorrectly and she feared the consequences if

she had. Just as she began to lose heart, they heard a great

roar. Ebrius, fearing an attack from a large and fearsome

creature, drew his sword, ready to fight. His foe, however,

was not a great beast, but a massive swarm of insects. Every

sort of insect found in the kingdom was present it seemedfrom

the minuscule, crawling Opaci to the intimidating

Vespuns, their black wings, shining in the evening sun. And

their sole intent was to lay siege to the false King.





About the Author

Ashlie Harris is 30 years old and a Stay-at-Home mother of four homeschooled children. She and her husband live in the heart of the Midwest, USA, in a place Ashlie likes to call, "The Land of Corn and Beans". She has lived there all her life but may plan to move North in the near future. A unique childhood and a passion for the written word have served as motivation and inspiration throughout the years. Always the writer, Ashlie can often be found asking inappropriate questions, staring at seemingly nothing for hours on end, and generally being completely socially awkward. Her biggest wish is for people to look past their differences and start treating each other as the one, single race we are- HUMAN.






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