THE LEGEND IS REAL
Since the 14th century, Robin Hood has proven to be one of the most enduring and versatile folk heroes. Medieval historians believed Robin lived during the 12th or 13th century but despite decades of intense research by contemporary scholars, solid evidence has never been found.
Logan Daggett, son of Donald Daggett, well known CEO of one of Australia’s largest international corporations, has his 21st birthday celebrations disrupted by a family tragedy, the revelation of his mother’s decades-old secret—and a birthday gift of a collection of centuries-old family heirlooms. This series of events contrive to change the course of his life forever.
Accompanied by his two closest friends, the young Aussie sets out to uncover the truth behind the accident that irrevocably changed his life, and to research the authenticity of the priceless heirlooms, completely unaware of the adventure and dangers lurking around every corner.
During the course of their journey they uncover irrefutable evidence that causes further turmoil among the family, spark controversy among medieval scholars worldwide, and the potential of sparking upheaval to a country’s history and creating conflict between two nations.
He hit the brakes but nothing happened. The car continued to pick up speed. He stamped down several more times, only to achieve the same outcome. Nothing. He could feel his heart racing, the blood pounding in his ears as he fought to regain control of the runaway vehicle. Donald Daggett, CEO of one of Australia’s top three wine producing companies, was losing a fight for the first time in his life. He knew it and his wife, Elizabeth, knew it. He saw the knowledge in her terrified gaze as he glanced sideways at her. She had her arms out, bracing herself against the dash as he fought to keep the car on the road. He swiped madly at the sweat trickling into his eyes, burning them, and causing his vision to blur. Damnit, I can’t save us if I can’t see, he thought. He reached for the emergency brake, hauling back on it with all his strength. Once again, nothing happened. None of the brakes seemed to be functioning. A leisurely day trip in the bucolic English countryside had become an unexpected hellish nightmare ride through the quiet evening streets of Bourton-on-the-Water.
Daggett sensed an aching pressure building and clutched his chest as the tension suddenly turned painful. Dark blotches swam into his vision, and he tried to shake them away but succeeded only in losing his grip on the wheel. His wife seized her seat belt and turned her face to her window, screaming at the houses flashing past. Moments later the car careened across the road, with a screech of skidding tires, and tore into the solid stone pillar of an ancient bridge before flipping into the turbulent stream below.
Water rushed in through the shattered windows, swirling around their heads as the Daggetts dangled by their safety belts. Donald twisted and fought to free himself as water rose past his head. He reached out frantically for his wife only to encounter her limp body. The pain in his chest exploded and everything went black.
Moments later a dark figure slipped from the nearby shadows. It eased down the embankment towards the wreckage with one intention in mind. And it wasn’t to be the Daggetts’ salvation.
* * * * * * *
Meanwhile, back home . . .
Logan Daggett was up to his neck in trouble—again. He couldn’t risk a backward glance but his heightened senses were keenly aware of the men closing in on him rapidly from behind. His latest predicament was yet another result of his inherent cockiness. He tucked his head down and bolted forward like the hounds of the Baskervilles were snapping at his heels.
The ground shuddered with the sound of a dozen sets of heavy feet giving chase. Two hulking shapes moved to bar his path. Logan didn’t hesitate. He tucked his head down and, leading with a solid shoulder, he bored straight into them. He sent one of the human barricades careening backwards.
Logan’s momentum faltered. A wave of bodies fell on him before he could move. Beefy arms wrapped themselves around his neck and shoulders, others clawed at his legs. Just as he collapsed under the attack, he caught a glimpse of his Aborigine mate, Gavin Allawa, charging to his aid. With a deft flick of his wrist, Logan released his death-grip on the object in his hand and sent it flying to Gavin’s outstretched hands.
He felt pure satisfaction to see his friend making a perfect catch and dashing past before Logan disappeared beneath a writhing mass of sweating, grunting, swearing attackers. He laughed as the breath was crushed out of him.
A tumultuous roar went up. Logan extricated himself from the heap of bodies just in time to witness Gavin’s victory dance and bow of appreciation to the thousands of fans enjoying the regional intrastate football game.
Logan staggered toward the sideline. Then he spotted them—a couple of stone-faced cops.
Shit. What now? Logan thought as a bystander pointed him out to the police, and they began walking in his direction.
Gavin watched his buddy from across the far side of the field as the two officers converged on him and a sudden lump of ice formed in the Aborigine’s stomach. His head rang with warning bells going off. I thought all that business surrounding the girl’s death had been sorted out.
Jostled by his jubilant teammates and supporters, Gavin fought to keep sight of the cops confronting Logan. He strained against the pull of the crowd, twisting and turning. Something was definitely wrong, and he grew more desperate to rush to his friend’s side. One of the coppers laid a hand on Logan’s arm and the young player’s shoulders drooped as he hung his head despondently.
That was the last straw. Gavin tore free of the raucous celebrations and raced across the field as Logan dropped to his knees.
The author is raffling of a $40 Amazon gift card!
About the Author
Cadoc endeavors to create a feasible balance of historical fact and fiction into his writing in order to meet his obligation, as an author, to his readers. To that end he spends a large part of his conceptual writing on researching the world in which the characters will inhabit. “I’ve always had a fascination with history, particularly the medieval period of England and the Arthurian Legend. Though my genre is historical fiction, I hope that my readers will come away with a better understanding and appreciation for how people survived and endured before the inception of the basic luxuries we take for granted each day.”
He penned his first fiction while in high school and was quickly recognized by the English staff and his class for his vibrant imagination. He was also a talented artist and, after graduating, followed a career as a graphic designer in the publishing industry compelling him to put aside writing for a number of years.
In 1998, he met his wife-to-be on the Internet when online dating was in its infancy. After 18 months of long-distance romancing, they wed in Sydney, Australia and he returned to America with his wife to begin a whole new life together.
Now retired, Cadoc has the time to return to his beloved writing and has spent 9 years working on THE ARCHER’S DIARY, his first historical fiction novel.
He enjoys bare-bow target archery, reading, writing, kayaking, movies, traveling, and doing the occasional commissioned portrait of pets or people. He currently lives in central Florida with his wife.
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