SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENTJanuary 1st 2026.
Heroic Fantasy / Sword and Sorcery author Charles Moffat has released a new anthology of his Wulfric the Wanderer short stories, novelettes and novellas.
The treasury is only available as a Trade Paperback or Hardcover.
Wulfric the Wanderer Treasury
LARGE PRINT EDITION
From icy snowbound peaks to harsh deserts...
From the Stone Age to the Korovian Dark Age...
From gladiator pits to ancient forgotten roads...
The time traveling barbarian warrior returns in an anthology collection featuring eight Wulfric the Wanderer short stories, novelettes and novellas, including:- Portal of Destiny
- The Cult of the She-Bear
- Born of Blood and Ice
- The Scarlet Arena
- Shifting Shadows in Iztark
- Black Monoliths of Al-Kazar
- The Unbreakable Arrow
- The Raven's Feast
Written in true Robert E. Howard fashion, this epic Sword and Sorcery anthology brings together every Wulfric the Wanderer story published by Charles Moffat between 2009 and 2025.
Learn more by visiting fiction.charlesmoffat.com. Also:
A brand new Wulfric the Wanderer story, Witch of the Brass Quarter, has just been released.
The paperback version was released today: January 1st 2026.
The ebook version is being released on March 1st 2026.
With a sandstorm on the horizon, Wulfric the Wanderer has come to the Brass Quarter of the city of Iztark, seeking a way to find his beloved Tahira. Lured by the promises of a fortune teller, the barbarian from Korovia learns more than he bargained for...
Part One of the Assassin Cycle. Learn more about the Wulfric the Wanderer series by visiting fiction.charlesmoffat.com.
EXCERPT FROM WITCH OF THE BRASS QUARTER
ITo
the south Wulfric wandered, in search of his elusive lover Tahira,
taken from him by orc raiders who dealt in slaves in the Al-Kazarian
desert. Every slave pit and every auction was an opportunity to find his
missing love, but he knew in his heart that no orcs could tame his
beloved, and though they might easily shackle her, she would just as
easily strangle them with her chains…
A lone cat
prowled from a flat rooftop, watching for mice in the alleyways below.
The shadows grew longer as the sun fell beyond the western horizon, the
sandy dunes that lay beyond the city bathed in the reddish glow. The
dusty haze of a sandstorm above the dunes hung like a funeral shroud
waiting to descend upon the city, covering everything in a thin layer of
sand.
Men and mice would die tonight, for a
sandstorm was the perfect time for cats to hunt their prey and for men
to murder. Here in the city of Iztark, jewel of the desert, bastion
between sand and sea, murder was as numerous as the minarets and domed
rooftops that dotted the city’s horizon. Tiled rooftops and flat stucco
were frequently painted pink, not because the residents particularly
enjoyed the colour pink, but because it did a good job of hiding the
ancient blood stains that dotted the architecture.
In
the bleak and narrow streets below, amidst the sickly sweet incense
smoke and the stink from offal pits, merchants were closing up their
shops early for the sandstorm would soon be upon them. No more did
merchants hawk their wares loudly, but they instead spoke urgently,
sometimes in whispers, eager to safeguard their goods lest they be
caught out in the storm.
For everyone knew that a sandstorm was the best time for thieves, and assassins, to do their dirty work.
The
crowds of people, each heading home, were like sheep all heading in the
same directions, but amongst them strode a barbarian from the north. A
Korovian warrior, and he stood out harshly like a wolf amongst the
flock.
His muscles and thews were chiseled hard as
marble, laced with scars from many battles, and his face was covered in a
thick black beard, framed by a mane of black hair with a tinge of grey.
The greyness in his hair and black looked strangely premature, as if he
was older or perhaps younger than he truly was, perhaps a sign that he
had encountered some manner of witchcraft or sorcery and somehow
survived.
His skin had become darkened by long days
in the sun and his clothes were stained with road-grit and dust, but his
height, lack of a helmet or hood, and the oddly black metal sword on
his back made him stand out in contrast to the locals.
The
Korovian’s gait was unbothered by the urgency of others, but he was no
thief and certainly no assassin. He was a simple warrior, but if faced
with a foe that could be best with a sword, he wasn’t against the idea.
His name was Wulfric. Wulfric the Wanderer.
Hemmed
in by a sudden press of people trying to get home, and the first signs
of the sandstorm, Wulfric halted in his stride, one hand on his coin
purse. He had learned long ago that crowds like these were the perfect
places for pickpockets to ply their trade. And some of the people he
could see here were Bani al-Qat, commonly known as catfolk. The Bani
al-Qat were excellent acrobats and hunters, as well as dancers and
performers, but they were also notorious thieves and pickpockets.
Want to read more? Preorder the Witch of the Brass Quarter ebook so that you receive it on March 1st 2026 or you can purchase the paperback version of Witch of the Brass Quarter right now.
