A Court of Bovines and Destiny - Signed Paperback

Buddy the Cow was supposed to live out his life chewing cud and eating grass, content to be nothing but an ordinary cow. But when a Fae curse sends him on the journey of a lifetime, he becomes destined for something more: to be the king of Cowmelot.

But when you're a cow with no fingers and no martial training, death is only a heartbeat away... because evil sorcerers like swords, especially magical ones.

With only a centaur, a magicless wizard, and a bunny girl barbarian to protect him, Buddy finds his life threatened by the evil High Sorcerer Geoff Geezos. The sorcerer wants Buddy to join Hamazon, his world wide tchotchke delivery service. Or die.

He'll need every edge he can get, even if it means seeking out those that would destroy him.

Yet, with every day that passes, Geoff Geezos grows more deadly and Buddy's friends can no longer protect him from everything. The adventure claims lives one after another and nobody, not even a Fae-cursed cow, knows if they'll make it to the end.

Friends, enemies, lovers. Everyone making the quest to Cowmelot has an agenda. Because once you become the one and true king, there's only one way out. Take the throne, or die.

One




I am a happy cow.
Or at least I was until I became a king.
Let me explain.

Once upon a time, as these stories go, there was a young farm boy. That farm boy, being prone to whimsy and wonder, spent many of his days dreaming about daring sword fights, magic spells, and fire-breathing dragons. He knew he was a chosen one, just like all the other farm boys in the village, and one day Destiny would call for him to complete his noble and heroic quest.
But that day never came. At least not until he was much older.
A rumor skittered into the small village mill one day, brought by a traveling merchant from the south. It was strange and inconceivable to most, but held great intrigue. It seemed a magical sword had been discovered in the middle of a town far, far away. Immediately, a grand ancient wizard in a large hat was summoned and, with his breadth of arcane knowledge, he identified it as the supremely hard-to-find mystical sword of kings! He told all that would listen that whoever should pull the blade from the stone would be the one and true king of all the world. He and he alone would lead them into everlasting peace and prosperity. And of course, everyone believed him because who would doubt a man wearing such an elegantly shaped hat?
Naturally, word spread quickly and hordes of men flocked to the site from all over the world to try to pull the sword from the stone. At first, only the great kings were allowed to try to pull the blade. Having already obtained kinghood, they assumed they deserved it for all their hard work and bootstrap pulling to obtain their royal position. When they failed, the knights came in, thinking their brave deeds and gallant slaying of beasts would win them favor, but it was not so. At last the nobles took their shot, each knowing that above all the others, they deserved the sword more because it was their right to bear arms and nobody would tell them otherwise. None were successful and the great wizard reminded them again and again, that only he of purest heart and unwavering honor could remove it. Eventually, all the gentry gave up on the sword, calling it fake and rigged, just like the most recent election. Many began to spread rumors that they had actually pulled the sword from the stone, but the neighboring country of Jhina had covered up his huge and undeniable success.
The farm boy, now a young man, quite naturally knew it was his Destiny to draw the sword to become the one and true king. After an entire lifetime of daydreaming and preparing, he made the brave decision to leave his life behind and go after it. At first he thought to wait a while to see if his parents would be killed by some evil sorcerer, but since none obliged, he figured he would have to leave anyhow. Gathering his things and bidding his parents farewell forever, he set off on the long journey across the wilder parts of the world. He knew the sword lay far to the southeast in the small town of Piami, just north of the never-ending swamps. Confident Destiny would lead his way, he tossed the map his mother had given him in the closest river he could find and followed his heart.
Traveling for what seemed like forever, the young man made his way across the world, which was in fact a rather smallish island no bigger than the mythical land of beavers known as Oregon. That, however, didn’t stop the boy. Day and night he trudged through fae-infested forest buffets, nude nymph soaked rivers, and passed by lakes full of dead women handing out free swords. They claimed the sword was obligation free, but it came with a pamphlet about their totally-not-a-pyramid-scheme food container business called Dupperware. One such watery tart claimed that it could make you many gold coins in your first year with little or no effort on your part. But the farm boy resisted all their temptations with pride and continued on, mind bent on his Destiny that would finally make him the hero he’d always dreamed of being.
When he finally arrived in the small village of Piami, he was exhausted, bruised, and nearly starved to death. It was a dark and stormy day, the rain pouring down on the nearby roofs. To his surprise, he received many odd stares from the locals. Little did he know that he’d been wandering for more than three years and at the nearest puddle of water was shocked to see how haggard and skeletal he looked. But again, with little regard for anything else, Destiny drove him forward. Before he had a chance to bathe or eat, he strode through the rainy village, looking for the sword buried in rock and his honor alongside it.
Coming around the corner of a small building, he saw it at last. The clouds parted and a beam of sunlight shone down from the heavens, illuminating the sword, the ruby hilt shining brilliantly. A joyous singing filled the air as he stepped forward, not noticing the cart full of musically-inclined monks driving by, practicing for their concert with the pope. He felt his posture straighten, the muscles in his body flooding back to life after months of too little to eat. All at once he was the young farm boy again, staring at his grand Destiny that only lay a few feet in front of him.
He approached the massive black stone. It was broken at the edges and glimmered in the rain like glass, sunlight filling its dark interior. Reaching down, he touched it with his bare hand and winced as pain shot through his palm. Pulling it back, he saw the shallow cut and realized the stone was made almost entirely of obsidian, its edges jagged and razor sharp. Ignoring the pain, he lifted his gaze to the sword. The hilt was a shining and ornately carved silver. On the pommel was a large ruby set into the metal, worth more money than his family's entire farm and beyond. He glanced around, looking for the ancient and renowned wizard, but saw no one. In fact, nobody was paying him any mind as he climbed up and approached the sword.
Wiping the blood away on his dirt-caked clothing, he reached down and wrapped his hands around the hilt of the sword, feeling the cold metal beneath them. The thick shaft felt good and natural in his hand. He glanced around once more, wishing the wizard was nearby so he could at least have a witness, but knew once he jerked the sword fast and hard, the wizard would come for him. Everyone in the world would know his name, the name of their one and true king. He was the chosen one and it was time he took his rightful place. Expecting the sword to come loose freely, he gave it a gentle tug.
But it did not move.
With a bit more effort, he tried once more. Again, nothing. Growing frustrated and a bit concerned, he doubled his efforts and strained against the blade, his muscles bulging as he tried to unleash it from its stoney prison. But no matter how hard he pulled, it didn’t move.
All at once, dark thoughts began to penetrate his mind. Was he not brave and pure of heart? Did he not prove his unyielding honor in his quest across the world to find the sword? Was he foolish for not taking the wet lady’s pamphlet?
Feeling utterly defeated, his rain and blood-soaked hands slipped from the sword, the cold drizzle washing away any trace that he’d even touched it. With a broken spirit, he slunk away, finding a dark and muddy alley to die in. He didn’t eat and he didn’t drink. With all of his dreams dashed, the farm boy found no more reason to go on living.
And he would have died if not for the kindness of a strong blazer-wearing woman passing by. She took him in, broken as he was, and slowly nursed him back to health. Eventually he recovered and she offered to take him under her wing, training him to be a great Dupperware salesman and her protégé. After a long training period and a successful year of sales, he finally proposed to her. Together they were unstoppable and sold enough Dupperware to retire early to the outskirts of Piami, the sword long forgotten. They had two children that they loved dearly. Unfortunately, both the kids broke into a well-decorated cookie house and were baked into a pie by a witch, which was within her full legal rights to do to trespassers.
Heartbroken and unable to cope with the loss of their children, his wife took herself a young dwarven lover and disappeared in the middle of the night, taking the Dupperware fortune with her. The farm boy, who was now just a single man in his forties with no prospects or responsibilities, bought himself a new shiny black mustang and paraded the animal around town proudly, proving to everyone that he was better off in his new position and that his manhood was definitely still intact and well functioning. But eventually the newness of the horse wore off and the crippling depression set in. He sold it to a local glue factory and purchased himself a handful of cows to begin his own small dairy farm.
The farm boy, from then on, became known as the Cheese-Man in that small town. And the sword, still wedged in the black stone, was forgotten by all.
And that, my dear reader, is where my story begins.