By Nathan Long
Jane Carver, a hell-raising, redheaded biker chick from Coral Gables, Florida, had stumbled on a brand new lifestyles and love on Waar, a savage planet of fearsome creatures and swashbuckling warriors. till the planet’s excessive clergymen despatched her again to Earth opposed to her will.
But no one retains Jane from her guy, whether he occurs to be a purple-skinned alien nobleman.
Against all odds, she returns to Waar, in simple terms to discover herself accused of kidnaping the Emperor’s appealing daughter. Allying herself with a band of infamous sky-pirates, Jane units out to transparent her identify and rescue the princess, yet that suggests uncovering the key origins of the Gods of Waar–and settling on a struggle with the Wargod himself.
Good factor Jane is often up for a scrap . . . .
Swords of Waar is the wildly enjoyable sequel to Jane Carver of Waar, and maintains the raucous adventures of technological know-how fiction’s most modern and such a lot undesirable ass house heroine.
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Additional info for Swords of Waar (Jane Carver, Book 2)
It jutted up at a steep angle, piled on three beneath it. Like spilled matches. He jumped. The log split, and he frantically leaped off again. Desperately, he clutched for purchase. His fingers slipped; he fell back. He dug in wildly, trying to draw his body up on a flat surface. He made it. Gasping, panting for breath, Barton lay stretched out on the log, waves of relief flooding over him. Finally, he pulled himself to a sitting position. If he could go a little farther he should be able to catch hold of the truck itself.
I even made up a special golem with an extra-large brain, but it couldn’t tell me anything. Maybe you can help me with that. How are you on the clay? ” He came close to Barton and lowered his voice. “Nobody around here knows anything. There’s actual opposition. I have to work completely alone. If I had some help…” “Yeah,” Barton managed. Good Lord, what had he got himself into? “I’d like to trace one of the Wanderers,” Peter continued, with a rush of excitement. “See where they come from and how they do it.
He had almost fallen asleep over his dinner plate. His coffee had cooled to a scummy brown; the greasy potatoes were hardening fast. ” he muttered. The man sitting next to him pushed his chair back and wiped his mouth with his napkin. He was plump and well-dressed; a middle-aged man in a dark blue pin-striped suit and white shirt, attractive tie, heavy ring on his thick white finger. “My name’s Meade. Ernest Meade. ” He smiled a gold-toothed professional smile. “I’m a doctor. ” “Just tired,” Barton said.