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WindChance
cover artwork © 2002 Ardy M. Scott.

 

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WindChance

Charlotte Boyett-Compo

 

 

 

Chapter One

 

"Sail ho!"

The strident cry broke the morning air like a blast of the arctic air that had been at their heels since dawn.

"Where away?" The Captain raised his spyglass and swept the rolling vista before him.

"To the starboard, Cap'n. Thirty yards off the bow. She's lying dead in the water."

"Making repairs?" the First Mate asked as he joined his captain at the rail.

Catching sight of the unknown vessel lying off their weather beam, the captain shook his head. "Don't see anyone on her decks." He raised his eyes to the crow's nest. "What do you see, Haggerty?"

"Nary a soul moving on her, Sir. Looks deserted," was the boyish reply.

"Ghost ship," the First Mate mumbled, crossing himself. "Stow that talk, Mister!" the captain snarled, shoving his First Mate aside as he strode away. "Mister Tarnes!" he called out to the Second Mate, who was at the helm, "bring her about. Let's see what we've got over there!"

"Aye, aye, Cap'n!" the sailor replied and swung the brass-rimmed teak wheel in a lazy arc to starboard.

Genevieve Saur pushed away from the taffrail of her brother's brigantine, The Wind Lass, and strolled on legs well accustomed to the rolling dip of the seas, to the quarterdeck where her brother and his First Mate were arguing. A smile dimpled her small face and she thrust her hands into the pockets of the cords she wore when on board her brother's ship.

"You going to board her, ain't you?" Mr. Neevens, the First Mate, was growling.

"Aye, we're going to board her!" Genevieve's brother growled back. Neevens shook his shaggy gray head. "Not this old tar! I ain't going aboard no ghost ship." He screwed up his weathered face and stuck out a pugnacious jaw to emphasize his point. "I ain't boarding no ghost ship!"

Genevieve grinned when her brother cast her a furious glance. She shrugged in answer to his silent plea for help. She watched his gray eyes hardened with pique.

"We're going aboard her, Neevens, and that's the end of that!" Weir Saur shouted at his First Mate. He fixed his winter gray eyes on his sister. "You coming?"

"Naturally," Genevieve replied, eyeing Neevens with a pretend look of admonishment. "I don't believe in ghosts."

"And what about beasties?" Neevens snapped. "You afraid of them, missy?" The old man held her gaze, his whiskered chin thrust out, his watery eyes steady.

"There are no beasties on that ship!" Weir shouted. "Ghost, either!" "You'll see," the First Mate shot back. "You'll see!" He spat a thick stream of tobacco juice over the rail and squinted his fading eyes at his employer. "You come back without a head attached to them smug shoulders, Cap'n, we'll see who was right about beasties and such! You ever heard the tales of the NightWind?"

A vicious crosswind, aided by a troubled sea which was beginning to show signs of a coming blow, heeled the Wind Lass over on the starboard tack and cold waves broke over the knightheads, shot high in the air and dropped with a roar onto the forecastle as the brigantine made for the unknown vessel.

"See?" Neevens grumbled. "NightWinds don't like to be bothered!" Looking windward, the Captain frowned and his voice was a curt bellow as he looked up into the shrouds. "I want those topsails close reefed." He turned his eyes down to his sister. "I don't like the looks of that sky."

Genevieve turned her head and saw what had her brother concerned. The sky was a mottled gray; darker streaks of yellow were shot through the lower section of sky, making the flesh of the horizon appear bruised and sickly.

"Gale?"

Weir nodded, his mind on the nimble-footed sailors scurrying up the rigging. "Take in the topgallants while you're at it!"

The Wind Lass slipped effortlessly over the heaving waves, a steady hand at her helm. She slid in beside the unknown vessel and dropped anchor, riding the sea with a rolling pitch that left no doubt as to the turn of the weather.

"You going with us or not?" Weir asked his First Mate as the old man peered cautiously over the distance between the two ships as though something would lurch across the spans to take hold of his scrawny body. Mr. Neevens snorted, spat, and looked at his Captain. "Might as well," he grumbled.

Genevieve hid a smile as she turned to study the other ship. There was no name on her bow, no identification markings. Her hull had been painted black but here and there along the wood, great gouges of paint had flaked away leaving gray streaks where the weathered wood shown through. Her rails were tarnished, the wood chipped in places, some of her rigging flapping loose in the freshening wind. Her sails had been furled, lashed down to the yards and masts, and the creaking timbers and the rub of the shrouds were the only sounds that greeted the boarding party as they boarded her at a quarter to nine on that Friday morn.

"Where the hell is the crew?" Weir asked as he studied the decks, which looked as though they hadn't been sluiced in a good many days. Salt was caked in the cracks of the decking, splashed up the masts. The hatchway stood open, the darkness from below decks a sinister gash of silence.

There was a smell about the ship, an alien, somewhat malevolent aroma which seemed to make the eerie quiet all the more prevailing.

"You ever smelled anything like that?" Mr. Tarnes, the Second Mate, asked his captain.

Weir shook his head. "Smells almost like burnt flesh, doesn't it?" "Do you suppose the beasties had a barbecue last eve?" Genevieve quipped, elbowing Mr. Neevens in his scrawny ribs.

"That'll do, Genny," her brother cautioned, giving her a stern look from beneath his chestnut brows.

"Well, let's go on below and see what we can find," the girl quipped, unconcerned by her brother's fierce scowl. "There's nothing up here."

"You afraid of anything?" Mr. Tarnes snorted. He looked at the young girl with the look of a man long-accustomed to dealing with precocious females.

"I'm not particularly fond of snakes," Genny admitted.

"Well, I'll venture to say there are no snakes on board," Weir growled as he walked to the hatchway. He looked down into the darkness, and then with a deep breath, stepped gingerly down the companionway.

The cabins were empty, the galley devoid of provisions, and the captain's stateroom almost denuded of both furniture and nautical charts and equipment.

"Pirates," Mr. Tarnes said, nodding. "They was hit by pirates." He looked around the great cabin. "Took everything that wasn't nailed down and then some."

"Shanghaied the crew?" Weir asked, trusting Tarnes' knowledge of the subject.

"That'd be my guess, Cap'n." He poked among a pile of scattered papers on the captain's desk and lifted a single sheet of parchment. Squinting his eyes, he read the paper, drew in a quick, troubled breath and then handed it to Weir as though it were poisonous. "Sailing order, Sir."

Weir scanned the parchment. His brows drew together and he looked up at Tarnes. "A prison ship?"

"Ain't marked as such," Tarnes told him, "but that there order says she was carrying prisoners bound for Ghurn Colony." A wry grin settled over the man's rugged features. "Looks like the pirates got them some additional workers if this here lady was carrying prisoners."

Genny shivered. It wasn't that she was bothered by the mention of pirates; after all, wasn't that what she and Weir had decided to take up now that they had lost their family holdings? Wasn't that why they were out here in the middle of the South Boreal Sea learning the ropes from Tarnes and Neevens? What bothered Genny Saur was the mention of the penal colony at Ghurn. If things didn't go right for her and Weir, that was where he was bound to wind up. As for her, she'd swing from the nearest yardarm since there were no prisons for women, only nunneries, and she knew gods-be-damned well she wouldn't let them place her in one of those hell-holes.

"Did you hear that?" the First Mate suddenly squawked as he pushed up hard against Nathaniel Tarnes. He grabbed the other man's arm in a punishing grip and plastered himself to Tarnes.

"Hear what, you old fool?" Tarnes snarled, pushing the First Mate away from him. "All I hear is your teeth chattering!"

"No," Genny replied, looking at her brother. "I heard something, too."

"Like what?"

"A thump. There! Did you hear it?"

Weir cocked his head to one side, listening. His eyes narrowed. "Aye, I heard that."

"Sounds like it's coming from the hold." Tarnes shoved Neevens out of his way and ducked out of the Captain's cabin and walked to the forward companionway which led the lower deck. He stopped, listened. "Aye. It's coming from the hold."

"Could they have locked the crew down there?" Genny asked.

"We've been on this ship nearly an hour. Don't you think they'd have heard us board and have made some noise before now?" Neevens inquired, his eyes jerking about for the beasties he expected to see at any moment.

"Could have thought the pirates had come back," Tarnes told him.

"I ain't going down there," Neevens informed them. He pushed himself against the cabin wall. "I just ain't, that's all there is to it."

"Fool!" Tarnes called him.

The hatchway down into the hold was battened down, locked with a heavy padlock that appeared to be newer than the hasp into which it had been fitted. It took both Weir and Tarnes' combined strengths to pry the padlock open with a crowbar Genny found above decks. Once the padlock was off and the hatch opened, an overbearing stench assaulted the boarding party's nostrils, making eyes water and stomachs roll.

"By the holy ghost!" Tarnes gasped, covering his mouth and nose with a hastily-drawn kerchief. "What the hell is that smell?" He gagged, swallowing a rapidly-rising clump of bile which was threatening to erupt from his watering mouth.

"If that's the crew, they've been down there awhile," Genny murmured, holding her nose and breathing heavily through her parted lips.

"I've never smelled such foulness," Tarnes mumbled, his eyes watering from the stench.

"Ho, there!" Weir called into the blackness of the hold. "We're from the Wind Lass. Is anyone there?"

There was silence from the ebony depths.

"It could have been rats we heard," Weir said.

"Mighty damned big rats to have made a thump like we heard." Tarnes squinted his eyes, leaned over the hatchway and peered into the darkness.

"I can't see a bloody thing."

"Genny, go find us a lantern or something. I'm not going down there without a light of some kind." Weir Saur was a brave man, but darkness was not something he was comfortable with.

Genny nodded at her brother's request, well understanding his one weakness, and left to do his bidding.

"Ho, there!" Weir called out again. "Is anyone there?" Only more silence and a horrible waft of the stomach-churning stench greeted his hail.

"God, but that's a right offensive odor!" Tarnes said. "What the hell could cause such a smell?"

Weir didn't know and he wasn't so sure he really wanted to find out. The smell had an evil about it that bespoke the very bubbling pits of hell. "Whatever it is, there sure can't be anything human living in it. I can hardly breathe up here."

A flicker of light washed over the men and they looked over their shoulder to see Genny striding forward with two lanterns swinging in her hands. The light from the amber-tinted shades cast her small oval face in an ivory glow, lighting her forehead while the area below her nose was lost in deep shadow. If Mr. Neevens had seen her coming at him like that, he would have bolted for sure.

"When I was in the galley, I found something very interesting, Weir," she told her brother.

"What?" Weir Saur accepted one of the lanterns from his sister. Genny handed the other lantern to Tarnes. "There were a lot of herbs and roots lying scattered about the cook table and there was a crucible of quinine on one of the shelves."

"Sounds like they had fever on board," Tarnes said.

Genny nodded. "There's a lot of that at the penal colonies, I hear. Looked as though they were brewing a remedy for malaria."

A sound from behind them made the three turn in surprise, but upon seeing who had joined them, they relaxed.

"Find anything?" the newcomer asked.

"We're about to go down into the hold. We heard a sound earlier, but there wasn't any answer to my call," Weir said.

Genny looked at the newcomer and smiled, as she smiled every time she was within eyesight of Patrick Kasella. Her gray eyes twinkled, her ivory complexion ran a peach blush and her heart skipped a beat or two every time her brother's best friend and partner looked her way.

"What is that godawful smell? Is that coming from the hold?" Patrick asked, smiling briefly, brotherly, at Genny before turning his attention to Weir. "Surely that can't just be bilge water."

"I don't think so neither, and it's getting worse the longer we stand here," Tarnes quipped. He stepped gingerly over the hatch and put his booted foot on the top rung of the ladder leading into the hold. "I'm either going to see what's causing it or faint from the smell of it."

The men didn't see the hurt look fall over Genny's face at Patrick's easy dismissal of her; not that the Ionarian had ever looked at her with anything other than easy dismissal. In his charming, North Boreal way, Patrick, or Paddy as his friends called him, treated Genny no differently than he did the rest of Weir's crew. That he didn't seem to see her as a budding young woman bothered no one but Genny; certainly not Weir who didn't want any man looking at his sister in any way other than brotherly.

Weir stepped down the ladder behind Tarnes and Patrick followed. The men didn't think of Genny until she bumped into Paddy's back as she stepped off the ladder.

"Damn it, Genevieve!" Weir cursed, eyeing her with displeasure. "We don't know what we're going to find down here!"

Her pert nose in the air, Genny glared at him, her lips pursed tightly together, still stung by Patrick's unknowing disregard. "So?" she challenged.

"You've got no business being down here until we find out what's causing that godawful smell!" Weir snarled. "There could be plague or the likes down here!"

"Hush!" Tarnes cautioned. He squinted. "There it is again." He hefted his lantern and peered about the hold. The stench was worse where they stood, enveloping the four of them in an atmosphere that was almost palpable.

"I'll look to the aft," Weir said as he took Genny's arm. "You come with me."

Paddy followed behind Tarnes as the Second Mate made his way amidships and then, finding nothing but splintered wood from broken open cargo, ventured further into the deeper darkness of the stinking hold.

Weir stumbled over a coil of hemp and bumped hard into the bulkhead, banging his shoulder painfully against the wood. He almost dropped the lantern in the process, but Genny reached out to steady him.

"Did you hear that?" she asked.

"I didn't hear anything," Weir grumbled as he wiped his hand down his pant leg. There was thick, slimy moisture on the wall of the ship's hold. "What did it sound like?"

The young woman listened hard, shushing her brother as he repeated his question. She inched forward, searching the planking beneath her feet.

"Look at this, Weir," she said as she pointed.

Weir came forward and lowered the lantern. "There's nothing but bulkhead back there."

Genny wasn't so sure. "Do you see anything odd about the wood?" she asked, stepping over another coil of rope as her vision followed the planking.

"No," he told her. He held the lantern a bit higher. "I don't see anything odd. It's flat. What else should it be?"

"We didn't find anything but unsalvageable cargo," Patrick told them as he and Mr. Tarnes joined them. "Nothing that could have made the sounds you heard."

"We may have found something, Paddy," Genny said.

Weir rolled his eyes, looked at Patrick. "Little miss know-it-all thinks there's something odd about the bulkhead."

Genny stooped down, touched her hand to the horizontal planking covering of the bulkhead, tapped on the wood. There was a hollow sound. She looked over her shoulder at her brother. "There's something behind this wall."

Patrick eased around Tarnes and hunkered down beside Genny. He rapped on the planking and gagged. "Mother of Alel!" he gasped. "Whatever that smell is, it's coming from behind here." He turned his head away and gathered a mouthful of saliva and then spat, hoping to exorcise the bile riding up his gullet.

"Is there a latch of some sort on this wall, Paddy?" Genny asked, running her hands over the wood.

Reluctant to even touch the wood concealing such a foul odor, Patrick nevertheless put his hands on the planking and felt, wincing at the feel of the slick wood beneath his flesh. His fingers touched something cold, stopped, went back, and fumbled until the smooth expanse of metal ran under his fingertips.

"Here! Weir, hold that lantern closer!"

Bending forward, Weir Saur thrust his lantern close to his friend's shoulder and caught sight of the iron bolt set into the wood. He watched keenly as Patrick threw the bolt back.

"Where's the handle?" Genny asked, seeing none.

"Inside spring lock," Patrick told them as he pushed on the door to release it.

"Holy ghost!" Tarnes gasped, reeling from the stench, which shot out from behind the moving panel.

Genny thought she would vomit as the smell assailed her. She crabwalked back from the door as Patrick pulled it further open.

A hollow sound, a rusty sound that moved from behind the panel and the four froze.

"There's something there," Tarnes warned.

A pitiful sound, a human sound, seeped from behind the panel. It was a groan, a cry for help.

"There's a man in there!" Weir whispered as the lantern light from Tarnes' hand fell partially into the hidden area behind the planking.

Patrick looked up. "No, there are two."

 

 

 

"WindChance" Copyright © 1999. Charlotte Boyett-Compo. All rights reserved by the author. Please do not copy without permission.

 

 

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Author Bio

Charlee is the author of thirty-five books, the first ten of which are the WindLegend Saga. Married for thrity-six years to her high school sweetheart, Tom, she is the mother of two grown sons, Pete and Mike, and the proud grandmother of Preston Alexander and Victoria Ashley.

A native of Sarasota, Florida, Charlee was adopted at birth and grew up in Colquitt and Albany, Georgia. She now lives in the Midwest.

She is a proud member of the Authors' Guild, National Writers' Union, the Writer's Club Romance Group, Romance Writers of America, EPIC (the Electronically Published Internet Connection), Women for Literature, Ardeon, E-Writers, the Phenomenal Women of the Web, and the first author to be published by Twilight Times Books in 1999. She is a member of Beta Sigma Phi, Ladies of the Heart, Partners of Mary, White Rose Sisters, and is the parish secretary of her local Catholic church as well as the creator and webmaster of its webpage. In 2000, she was awarded Inscriptions Magazine's Engraver Award for Favorite E-Author. She was also profiled in the premier issue of Writer's Digest Publishing Success Magazine.

Her hobbies are writing, watching Australian actor Hugh Jackman strut his stuff, and trying to keep her adorable husband, Buddha Belly, from snoring. She is owned and operated by six cats.

Currently, she is at work on a new anthology as well as the third novel in the WindTorn Trilogy and WindBorn, the third novel in the WindTales Trilogy.

Listen to a three minute interview with Charlee by Radio Free Gallery's Fay Zachary: Radio Interview.

Other books by Charlee currently available from Twilight Times Books:
WindFall - Book One in the WindTales Trilogy.

Visit Charlee's web site.

 

###

 

Order Info

Format: Trade paperback
    Payment Method ~ [U.S. & non-U.S. credit cards accepted.]
PayPal -or- Credit Card

Format: Trade Paperback
    Available at
Amazon;  Bamm.com;  Barnes & Noble  Borders;  Bookstores
List Price: $18.50 trade paperback

 

 

  Reviews

As children siblings Weir and Genevieve Saur watch, the Tribunal steals their family estate leaving them with not even time to mourn the death of their father. Thirsting for revenge, the pair manages to survive; eventually they become pirates plundering the coast of Serenia.

Sailing the Wind Lass, the Saurs and their crew come across a "ghost" ship, a prison vessel with two near dead survivors, a crew member and a prisoner, trapped in the hull. The convict is Syn-Jern Sorn, son of the Duke of Winterstorm, who Weir holds culpable for his father's death. Weir wants Syn-Jern dead while Genny feels he should not be faulted for the sins of the father. She prevails and as he heals, they learn that his step-brother Trace Edward Sorn betrayed him. As the Weirs decide whether to abet Syn-Jern on his quest to devastate the Tribunal, he hides his power that if used could kill many including innocent people even as he and Genny begin to fall in love.

The second novel in the WindTales miniseries trilogy is a strong erotic dark romantic fantasy that can be enjoyed as a stand alone but is enhanced by insider references to other Wind stories especially WINDFALL. The story line is action-packed, yet as expected by Charlotte Boyett-Compo, the key cast members are fully developed and not just the lead couple and her brother; for instance others like the Saurs' piracy partner Patrick embellish the plot as the audience cares for them. A final twist will stun fans as this fabulous author shakes her readers from complacency as few if any authors in continuing series ever do. Encore kudos to a terrific writer.
Reviewed by Harriet Klausner for Midwest Book Review.
 



If you are looking for a gripping story filled with emotion, both good and dark, adventure, deep and abiding love and the depths and heights of the human condition, then this is the book to read, as are all Charlotte Boyett- Compos' works.

WindChance follows the life of Syn-Jern, an unwanted, unloved boy who is betrayed as a young man by a women he thinks loves him. It follows his adventures from his rescue from a prison ship, his wedding to the love of his life and his return to claim vengeance as the champion of the Daughters of the Multitude against the evil Brotherhood of the Dominion, the very ones who's corruption allowed many an innocent man to be sent to the prison island called the Labyrinth for political and individual gain.

Syn-Jern holds powerful abilities that he must learn to control if he is to help bring about the downfall of the Dominion as has been foretold by the Daughters of the Multitude. It is his capacity for love and his willingness to sacrifice for those he loves that will break your heart.

Through Syn-Jern and his fellow pirates, Charlotte Boyett- Compos explores the qualities that are inherent in some people, their tenacity to live, their ability to forgive, and to love even though none of those same qualities had been extended to themselves. While the story showcases the good qualities of humanity is also demonstrates the darker side. The story does not ignore the ugly side of humanity, the sadistic, self-serving, ambitious nature that is also innate, regretfully, in some people.

Charlotte Boyett-Compos' writing will stay with you long after you've turned the last page. Her insight into the darker passions and their good counterparts will keep you thinking and bring you back for more.
Reviewed by Leola Brooks for ParaNormal Romance Reviews.
 



Compo's prolific, yet easily accessible writing style offers an exciting, swashbuckling epic reminiscent of the timeless tales of Robin Hood. Her story is peopled with good-guy pirates, bad-guy land barons, a society of women sorceresses, evil priests, dragon-like demons, a hero with uncanny powers that he must learn to use in order to accomplish his quest and a feisty young girl named Genevieve who hates him because his father killed her parents, stole her family's ancestral home and left her brother to be raised in an orphanage and her in a nunnery where she was abused and mistreated.

Syn-Jern Sorn, the hero with latent magical powers, is a young man born into aristocracy but hated by his father and mother because of the circumstances of his birth. His heritage is stolen from him when he is branded a murderer by his brother and sentenced to a penal colony from which no one escapes. Yet he does escape. Sadistic bounty hunters recapture him and torture him on board the prisoner transport ship as they are taking him back to the penal colony when the winds of chance step in.

Near death, he is rescued by a pirate band who have vowed to free their people from the rule of the Brotherhood of Domination. The pirates accept him as one of their own, but the unforgiving Genevieve blames him for his father's sins. Syn-Jern falls in love with her, but will she ever return that love? They and the pirates set out to find the secret of his powers so they can exact revenge upon the overlords who dominate their people.

This is a fast paced tale with one adventure after another to keep the reader entranced. The unexpected ending guarantees that WINDCHANCE is a thoroughly enjoyable quest novel.
Reviewed by S. Joan Pope for Forward Magazine.
 



A storm tossed sea leads the Windlass's crew into a fantastic adventure. The saucy Geneveve Saur (Genny), her brother Weir, and her brother's pirating partner Patrick Kasella, along with crew, stumble upon a ghost ship. Plundered by pirates and left because she wasn't seaworthy, they explore the dredge, and are amazed to find two men locked behind a hidden bulkhead panel.

The last crewmember of the ill-fated ship has saved the life of a convict, but in their hiding, they have became trapped. The convict is filthy, starved and dying of Labyrinth fever. Having served his ten-year sentence for killing a man, a crime of which he is was innocent, Syn-Jern Sorn had escaped the hell-hole two years after his sentence should have ended. But Syn-Jern is no ordinary prisoner. The son of a Duke, the victim of cruelty and injustice, his incredible spirit continues to display itself throughout the novel.

If you love tales of intrigue, magic and mystery, I highly recommend this novel. For those already familiar with Charlee Boyett-Compo work, you'll enjoy the allusions to her other novels. All readers will find themselves enthralled by this gripping tale. As with many of her works, keep a box of tissues handy, for the ending will leave you shocked, tearful, and amazed by the beauty of the tale.
Reviewed by Cindy Penn, editor of
Word Weaving.
 



4.5 Stars

Weir Saur and his sister Genevieve were only children when their father died and the Tribunal confiscated their family estate. Now grown, they prowl the coast of Serenia in their ship, the Wind Lass, pirates bent on plunder and revenge. When they discover an abandoned prison ship floating dead in the water, they rescue the two pitiful survivors. Later, they discover one of them is Syn-Jorn Sorn, eldest son of Duke Sorn, the man Weir blames for his father's death. Weir and Genny must choose between taking revenge on the helpless man, or joining him on a quest for justice that will shake the foundations of the Tribunal.

The second novel in The WindTales Trilogy, WindChance is a complete and satisfying stand-alone read. Newcomers to Ms. Compo's world will delight in discovering the beautiful and dangerous country of Serenia, and will shiver at the machinations of the Brotherhood of the Domination, the evil sect of sorcerers who run the Tribunal. Like Ms. Compo's other books, WindChance is filled with memorable characters: Weir Saur, a thoughtful and surprisingly gentle pirate, who carries a library aboard his ship, Genevieve, a passionate and headstrong young woman, whose hate for Syn-Jorn turns slowly to love, and Syn-Jorn himself. Abused as a child and unjustly imprisoned as an adult, Syn-Jorn must overcome crippling doubts to battle the Tribunal, regain his dignity and reclaim his stolen home.

With vivid descriptions of torture and seduction, WindChance is not for the squeamish or prudish. Part Mutiny on the Bounty, part Robin Hood, WindChance is an exciting fantasy adventure laced with just enough romance to make the reader sigh. ...WindChance is a fast-paced tale that should delight lovers of high fantasy. I highly recommend it.
Reviewed by Carrie S. Masek, for Scribes World.
 



4 1/2 Hearts

Ms. Compo is a powerful voice within the industry and her latest release Windchance only proves again what we already know. Windchance is a phenomenal tale of betrayal, the renewal of faith, love and magic that combined make for an outstanding book that I had a difficult time putting down. I m anxiously looking forward to the next exciting installment.

Reviewed by Kari Trembil for New-Age Bookshelf.
 



Rating 10 Out of 10!

"...an intricate tale of honour, heroism and friendship that will change the lives of many, as "honourless cuthroats" attempt to overthrow an evil Tribunal that has enslaved the populace for generations.

"A gripping saga that has no equal. Charlotte Boyett-Compo does not spare her heroes, so a happy ending is never assured.

"Thank goodness there are so many more books in the WindLegend Saga, I for one want to read them all!"

Reviewed by Sandy Cummins for Writer's Exchange.
 



5 Stars

As usual this is another five star book from Charlotte Boyett Compo.... There is a lot of adventure and intrigue. As well as quite a few interesting characters that I have not mentioned. This book is not only for the keeper shelf, but in my opinion no review could do the book justice. You have to read it to get a full understanding of how good this author's books are.
Reviewed by Carol Castellanos for Sime~Gen.

 

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