Imagine Game of Thrones, but Neanderthals never died off. It’s 1107, and the once-great Neanderthal empire is no more, laid waste by the dark Sapien king, Isaac, the same bastard who slaughtered the Thal queen’s young heirs. A brutal reversal of medieval power forged in blood and fueled by Sap ingenuity. But one babe escaped the mad king’s wrath. Raised the son of a simple Thal herder, Maralek’s a rough lad with the ferocious pride and temper of his ruined people, a scorn for rules and rulers, and less than a little creativity in his thick skull. In a word, your average Neanderthal. And life’s livable, until King Isaac resumes his bloodthirsty crusade, and Maralek’s forced into slaving shackles. Then, a rowdy caravan, a mysterious gypsy, a whispered prophecy… A whirlwind of devastation and war as his master is murdered, his fate unwoven, and his world ripped asunder in an epic battle to end all. Neanderthal King is a historic epic YA fantasy by renowned science fiction and fantasy author, Matt Ward, that features savage twists and darker secrets, raging kings and enslaved heirs, and an audaciously ambitious coming of age quest set in an alternative medieval Europe. If you love Brandon Sanderson, Ursula le Guin, or Robin Hobb, or explosive high and low fantasy classics like Lord of the Rings, the Kingkiller Chronicles, and the Earthsea Cycle, you’ll love this heroic historical tale. Buy Neanderthal King today for a fantastic new teen hero’s battle-lusting, unexpected adventure… right up to its shocking conclusion. Praise for Neanderthal King: “...you'll abandon your love for elves, dwarves, and hobbits and draw you out of your armchair and into the turbulent world of humanity's distant and conflicted prehistory." - S Shane Thomas, author of A Paleolithic Fable (Anki Legacies) Grab your copy, and discover the epic saga today! "Ward breathes life into the remains of those who came before us in such bold strokes that you'll abandon your love for elves, dwarves, and hobbits. Discover the myth that lies in the archaeological record, our true lore. Detailed worldbuilding and careful characterization will draw you out of your armchair and into the turbulent world of humanity's distant and conflicted prehistory." - S Shane Thomas, author of A Paleolithic Fable (Anki Legacies) "Matt Ward is a marvelous author, his characters capture your heart; the battles are so fast-paced you can't turn the pages quickly enough! This is a stand alone fictional history that feels like it really happened that way. You really don't want to miss it! " - Cher "A twisty and imaginative take on the Human family tree!" - Angie Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. "The Saps are coming, my D'rori!" Aeik cried. "Quick, we haven't much time before they pierce the re'drak's outer walls." Orik leapt to her feet, throwing aside her blood red quilt and the earthen crown of her people as she raced for the royal nursery. Not now. How could they have known? Swords clanged outside the keep's stone walls, heart pounding. They'd already reached the city? Impossible. "Fire!" a Sapien voice shouted. The twang of their gods' damned crossbows filled the air, echoing as her guards screamed, and fell. Their d'rorji was in ruin, defenses no match for the Saps' steel bows and artillery. She flung the iron-handled door open. "Come, my children, now. We haven't--" A massive BAM shook the fortress. Another. Twice more. Not the ram. A crash, and the keep's impenetrable door splintered open below. Hammering steel grew louder. "My lady, now!" Aeik grabbed her hand and yanked her toward the far door. Four young handmaidens scooped up the six sleepy children--all that was left of our royal lineage--and ran. Acrid smoke... Something burning. At the end of the stone hall, Aeik grabbed her arm again. "Are you all right, my--" A whistling schwaff as an arrow thudded into her throat. Eirisek shrieked. "There!" one of the high-pitched little intruders yelled. His comrade spun his crossbow toward them, and they veered right, sprinting toward Oren's den, and skidding through the holy ornate doors. Arrows and bolts thudded the heavy oak as Orik heaved it shut, and locked the latch. It wouldn't hold long. Not with their fancy rams. "Behind Oren, under the canvas." Orik crossed the torch lit prayer room of pelts and power, and pulled aside the bloody mural of the bear god. Two of Aeik's fair-haired, identical underlings carried Arkaek, Liorik, and her other sleeping babies through the hidden opening. But not fast enough. Something struck the door with a rattling crash. Ugly male voices roared from the other side. Their chickenfooted bitch soldiers... but there were too many of them. And not enough time. My babies... A reverberating crack as a gap appeared along the door's iron frame. The two women turned with Orik, and as one, drew swords that hadn't left their sides for many a fortnight, not since that fatef