Bran Hambric the Farfield Curse [Hardcover]

In a bustling metropolis where magic is outlawed, a six-year-old child is found inside a locked bank vault. A scrap of paper reveals his name: Bran Hambric. The child remembers nothing of his life before the vault. Only magic could have done this. But why would any Mage risk breaking the law to place a child in a bank vault? Eight years later the City of Dunce has forgotten about Bran. Even his foster parents don't seem to know he exists. But there are those who have been watching, biding their time, waiting to strike, people who know where Bran came from and why he was sent away. And they will do anything to get Bran back, dead or alive... The Farfield Curse brims with mystery, magic, and fun. Kaleb Nation s wry sense of humor kept me smiling, even while the mystical sparks flew. Get ready for lots of surprises and watch out for gnomes! - D.J. MacHale, Author of the Pendragon Series 20 Yr old Kaleb Nation is a born marketer and this is his first novel. He has two websites: Kalebnation.com and twilightguy.com. They ve received over a million hits each. Kaleb has at least four online fan clubs and has also appeared in Business Week and Entertainment Weekly. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Excerpt from the Prologue THE NIGHT WAS COLD AND DEAD, AND SO FELT CLARENCE'S HEART. He dashed through the darkness, never stopping, always watchful for the men every passing car making him leap back into the shadows of the trees lining the abandoned rural highway. His form was hardly more than a shadow, sweating even in the cold, his face bruised and scarred. With every second that passed, he knew they were coming; and with every step, he knew they were gaining on him. He darted through the mist and onto a side street with no houses or people, lined with thick walls of rock on both sides. His eyes swept the road, watchful for the lights of police cars or of the vans he knew were following him. He was worn from a night of running, but he couldn't stop. He had to get to the city before they found him. Or worse, before they found Bran... Suddenly, there was a burst of light behind him, coming over the hill. He spun, and his eyes flashed, the noise startling him for a second but only a second, as he heard the engine roar and saw the shape of a black van rushing after him. "No!" he gasped, and he took off in the other direction, hearing the van blast in pursuit. The road was cut through the rocks, and the rising walls blocked him from going into the woods. His shadow was thrown ahead of him, the headlights burning the sweat on his neck. He ran faster, panting for breath, his heart pounding and his feet slapping against the pavement. Ahead of him there was a flash of motion, a squeal of tires, and a second black van shot out of the shadows, skidding and coming from the other direction. He shouted and turned to run the other way, stopping and spinning back as the first van slid after him, blocking his escape as the other cornered him in. Clarence ran to the wall of rock, digging his fingers into the cracks to climb, to find any way to escape, but falling to the pavement when he found he could not. The vans stood still and foreboding, the intense headlights trained on his form against the wall, blinding his eyes as he crouched over. He held up his hands to shield his face and heard the doors burst open, two men coming from behind the cover of the windows, their pistols trained on him. He stiffened and held his hands up in terror, and out of the second van came two others, bald and strong, their faces emotionless and their forms hidden by black coats that swept as far as the ground. Each held in his hand a black wand of metal, and Clarence trembled under their gazes, almost feeling the torturous magic coursing through his body again.