Thursday, October 14, 2021

Blog Tour: Haeland's Ballad


Dark Fantasy/Steampunk

Date Published: November 30, 2021


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“Some call me Murderer, others call me Lord. I've been called Savior and Enslaver. But no one has ever called me Child.”


A young man signs his own death warrant when he joins an already failing militia. A teenage girl is haunted by her childhood abuse and begins to crave the very things she hates. A childless mother finds herself on the run as a convicted murderer. Yet they are all unaware that their own fates are tied to a young orphan who has drowned and come back to life in a foreign land where he will be the death of everyone he meets.

Hælend’s Ballad is a tale about what happens when men and women from two colliding cultures realize they may not be on the right side. Heroes are villains. The persecuted are oppressors. And when rumors begin to spread that the world is dying, the darkness of their own hearts betrays them.



They rushed through the servants’ passage as Eirún held her nightgown to keep it from dragging on the floor. Approaching the back door, Geirleif felt Eirún hold him back with her hand.

“Geirleif,” she said.

He turned around. “We must be quick, my dear.”

“I know, but . . .” She looked down. “You’ve already done so much for me. I can’t let you do this. I’m willing to turn myself in.”

He cupped her hand in both of his. “I will not let you do that. You have no idea what the prisons are like here, especially for women. It would be the death of you.”

She didn’t say anything, and as Geirleif peered into her eyes, a sudden sadness fell upon him. He couldn’t say for sure, be she looked as if she didn’t care.

“Please,” he continued. “Let me take you. You can start a new life. There’s nothing left here for you.”

“What are you waiting for?” came the sudden voice of Hrunting, who was peering through the door. From the corner of his mouth hung a small briar pipe. “Let’s go!”

Geirleif turned his gaze from Hrunting to Eirún. “Please, trust me.”

Eirún nodded warily, and they hurried to the carriage.

Though he asked her to trust him, he wasn’t sure he trusted himself at the moment. He would never forgive himself if he only made things worse for her. And what on earth was Hrunting doing with a pipe?

“Why are you smoking?” Geirleif snapped. “We don’t have time for that!” He looked over the carriage. “Where’s the chauffeur?”

“About that,” Hrunting replied, sitting in the driver’s seat. “I thought it best to send him away. We don’t want more people than we need involved in this.”

Geirleif lifted Eirún into the carriage and followed after, shutting the door. “Is he going to tell on us?”

Hrunting shrugged and blew out smoke through his nostrils. “I doubt it, but one thing’s certain—I’m now caught in the middle of this with you.” He glanced back. “Did you not grab her a bag or change of clothes?”

Geirleif slapped his thigh and grunted. “It didn’t even cross my mind.”

“So, she’s going to Sunder in a nightgown?”

“You could have helped!” he retorted. He looked at Eirún and said with a calmer tone, “I’m terribly sorry. We’ll see what we can do before we get to the wisp.”

Eirún only held a blank stare as if she was still processing the whole thing.

“Don’t worry,” Hrunting said as he flicked the reins. “I’ve got her covered.”


About the Author

Ian Conrey is both a teacher and student of history and theology, who actively fights against human trafficking and is working toward an M.A. in Religion. In his free time, he enjoys reading biographies and ancient mythology, discovering early American folk songs, and exploring the Cohutta Wilderness. He lives with his wife and three children in the North Georgia mountains.



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Twitter: @IanConrey



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