BK is super excited to announce the launch of his second novel; The Last Roman: Abyss. This is the sequel to his debut novel, The Last Roman: Exile. Buy book one on sale for 99 cents this week.
Title: The Last Roman: Exile
Author: B.K. Greenwood
Genre: Historical Fiction / Modern Thriller
Publisher: Bat City Press
Book Blurb:
Some debts you cannot repay, even if you live forever...
Seasoned imperial officer Marcus Sempronius Gracchus leads the 9th Roman Legion into a bloody battle against a fierce barbarian tribe. It's a battle he won't survive.
When he awakens three days later, clawing his way from a shallow grave, Marcus must face the reality of his new existence; he will never see the afterlife. But that won't stop him from dying time and again over the next 2,000 years.
Unfortunately, there are others cursed with immortality, and they are determined to bring the world crashing to its knees. Forced to confront the only brother he has ever known, can Marcus prevent the inevitable and possibly find redemption?
The Last Roman: Exile is a fast-paced, action-packed historical thriller that will have readers coming back for more. Don't miss out on B.K. Greenwood's debut novel, the first in this exciting new trilogy.
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Excerpt:
Marcus moved along the faltering line and soon encountered the largest man he had ever seen, hacking his way through the thinning ranks. A legionnaire tried to bar his path, but the ogre swung his massive blade, catching the soldier just below his jaw. A crimson arc of blood sprayed from the fatal wound, much of it splattering across Marcus' face and chest. Behind the giant, more barbarians advanced to exploit the breach.
Marcus grabbed the shield of a fallen soldier and rushed the behemoth, who welcomed the attack with a vicious blow. The force drove Marcus to one knee and nearly knocked him unconscious. Marcus raised the shield to protect his head and shoulders and thrust his sword upward. The point struck metal, so he shoved it harder until he felt the blade dig into the soft underside of a trunk-like arm. Marcus could hear the giant's howl above the din of the battle and knew that retribution was near. Another thunderous blast crashed into the shield, the metal and banded leather splintering from the attack. The next blow would rip Marcus asunder.
Desperate, Marcus hastily covered his head with the remains of his ruined shield. He mustered all his strength and drove forward into the beast. The shield thudded against his waist, eliciting an angry grunt. Marcus reached around the barbarian's leg with the blade of his sword, finding the naked thigh. Thought never meant as a weapon for slashing, the edge of his sword was still razor-sharp. He drew it across the giant's hamstring, cutting through flesh and sinew as Marcus pushed forward. The Suebi screamed in agony as the two men crumpled to the ground. The barbarian smashed the hilt of his sword into Marcus's head, knocking off his helmet. The world spun as Marcus stood and staggered away. Blood flowed down his face, blurring his vision. His opponent, writhing in pain, screamed at him.
Marcus heard several men shout, "The giant is down!"
A loud cheer erupted from the Romans, but that only encouraged the other barbarians. Marcus raised his sword in time to block another attack, but the force knocked him to the ground. The barbarian raised his sword to strike a death blow when Gaius appeared out of nowhere and ran him through. With great effort, Marcus regained his footing, lumbering forward to rejoin the melee. He lost his balance again and had to lean on his sword to keep from falling. As he stood watching the raging battle, a sharp pain shot through his side.
He looked down and saw the blade of the stricken giant sliding beneath his armor. The barbarian was sitting on his haunches, trying to stab him again. Marcus summoned his remaining strength and, swinging for the neck, felt the cold steel bite into flesh, then bone. A low gurgle escaped the laceration as the colossal body slumped forward, and the barbarian's head fell to the ground.
Marcus dropped the sword, trying in vain to reach his wound and stem the flow of blood. His breath grew labored, and he coughed, a coppery trace spilling into his mouth. Marcus slipped to the ground, his gaze fixed on the gray, sunless sky.
Moments later, Gaius knelt beside him. He tried to undo the bloody clasp of his armor, but Marcus pushed his hand away. Their eyes met.
"The men did good," Marcus said.
"Yes, they did."
Marcus continued, but it was inaudible.
Gaius leaned over, and Marcus whispered, "Tell my wife—" He coughed up specks of blood onto Gaius's soiled cheek. "I'm so sorry…" Marcus swallowed back the warm fluid rising in his throat, "sorry I left her."
"I will," he promised. "I will tell her myself."
Marcus nodded as a white horse arrived, the rider dismounting. Somewhere in the distance, he could hear the general's voice.
"Gaius?"
The old centurion did not reply, but the answer was written on his troubled face. Quintus knelt to the ground.
"Marcus, your actions have saved the day. I plan on submitting your name to the Senate…"
Quintus paused when their eyes met, then shifted to the pool of blood gathering around them. Marcus looked beyond him to the sky above as the general spoke of honor rolls and victory marches. There was a shimmer in the cloud that resembled a bird. He tried to focus on the form as it grew closer, but he could not keep his eyes open. As he slipped into the darkness, he thought of his wife and the fact that he would never see her again.
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Author Biography
B.K. Greenwood lives in Austin, Texas, with his wife and wolf pack of 4 rescue dogs. He loves to travel and enjoys works of fiction and nonfiction, with a heavy emphasis on history, adventure, and classics. His passion for history is on display in his debut novel, The Last Roman: Exile.
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Title: The Last Roman: Abyss
Author: B.K. Greenwood
Genre: Historical Fiction / Modern Thriller
Publisher: Bat City Press
Book Blurb:
The much-anticipated sequel to The Last Roman: Exile
Some sins can never be forgiven, no matter what the penance… Marcus Sempronius Gracchus, a soldier of Rome, has spent two thousand years walking the earth, seeking redemption he may never find. After losing his latest confrontation with Thomas, a man he once considered his brother, Marcus is on the run and must find new allies to battle his old nemesis. But will that be enough? Meanwhile, Thomas will stop at nothing to secure an ancient artifact that could trigger the end of times.
Follow the story of a man who should be dead as he tries to save the world... and his soul.
Excerpt:
August, 636 A.D.
Antioch
"Are you alright?" Marcus stood next to Thomas, in the front line of the formation.
"Yes, I think so." He shifted beneath his armor.
They both wore lamellar, a body armor made up of small squares of iron and steel laced together in rows. It was lighter than plate armor and allowed greater maneuverability. They also carried a rectangular shield, though not as large as the classical Roman shield. Thomas wore a small, pointed helmet, but Marcus had abandoned his. They both carried a long spear with a razor-sharp head. Short swords designed for stabbing sat in their sheaths, waiting to be freed. The other men in the formation were similarly equipped, though most of them had leather armor rather than metal.
Thomas stared out across the stone bridge they stood upon. The railings were iron, an unusual feature for a bridge. The river crept below them, the current invisible beneath the dark, smooth surface. Beyond the bridge, a large cohort of Arab cavalry waited atop a shallow hill. He angled his head behind toward the Byzantine reserve, a much smaller group of heavy cavalry, and glanced at Marcus. "How many?"
"A lot." Marcus frowned. "I'm not sure why we came out to meet them in open ground. But sieges are terrible. At least this way, it's over quick."
"Are you serious?" Thomas asked.
"Look, this is it. You wanted to defend Christendom. Here we are."
"You're right." He stared down at his spear. "We didn't train with these."
"Spears are simple." Marcus tapped the butt of his staff into the stone pavers of the bridge. "Plant the spear, and lower the pointy end at the oncoming cavalry. When it breaks, or the fighting gets close, pull your sword."
"I feel like we should have a better plan."
"Nah, this works fine."
"What happens if we—"
"Die?" Marcus asked. "Simple. We meet in Constantinople. I'm assuming you've made arrangements in Jerusalem?"
"Yes."
"Good. You'll probably need them."
Thomas shook his head and glanced around at the other men in the formation. Most were young, less than twenty. They all looked as nervous as he felt. A murmur drew his attention back to the enemy horsemen. The mass trotted down the hill, a cloud of dust marking their advance. As they neared the bridge, the edges of their formation slowed, the center proceeding onto the stone path. The clattering of the hooves was deafening.
"Steady boys!" Marcus yelled. "Spears!"
The first line kneeled behind their shields, spears planted into the ground. The second row stood and placed their spears over the shoulder of the man in front of them, resting it on the shield. The lead riders were twenty feet away when they lowered their lances and crashed into the Byzantine line.
The shrieks of wounded horses and dying men filled the air. Thomas's spear slid along the neck of a horse and into the shield of the Arab rider. The spear shattered, propelling the rider back off his horse. Before he could drop the splintered staff, the next line of horsemen collided into the shield wall, knocking Thomas to the ground.
As he rose, a man on horseback was standing over him, sword raised to strike. Before the Arab could deliver his blow, Marcus thrust his spear up through his chin and pulled it free as the dying man fell from his mount. Thomas stared around at the carnage, still gripping the staff.
"Your sword!" Marcus stepped past him and drove his spear into a dismounted soldier.
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