Author of The Paladin Series
Dark, grounded fantasy about faith, survival, and the cost of facing something that should not exist.
The Paladin Series • Book 1
The dead are not wandering. They are being driven. At the edge of the world, the fortress of Tamor prepares to stand alone. A small company travels toward it carrying the weight of something they do not understand — and the cost of something they have already lost.
A dark, grounded fantasy about faith, survival, and the cost of facing something that should not exist.
The Paladin Series • Book 2
Companions and key figures in the struggle for the world of A'orth.
Alyssa is a cleric of O’thon whose faith is tested as darkness spreads across A’orth. Steady in battle and firm in conviction, she brings courage, compassion, and resolve to the party.
Metsle is a young Grey Elf sorcerer from Verendi with an unusual connection to magic. Unsure of himself but far from powerless, he must learn to trust what he senses before the world around him breaks.
Crobe is a Wood Elf ranger from Evandor, disciplined, watchful, and slow to trust. His skill in the wild makes him invaluable, but the journey forces him to face more than the dangers ahead.
Dlor is a seven-foot half-ogre raised among the Wood Elves of Evandor. Quiet, powerful, and often misunderstood, he carries an instinct to protect that may prove stronger than anyone expects.
Blodger is a dwarf fighter from Perenty, broad, stubborn, and built for the front line. Blunt in word and fearless in battle, he stands firm when others would fall back.
Flendrick is a quick-handed dwarf rogue with sharp eyes, a sharper tongue, and a talent for finding trouble. Light on his feet and quicker than most expect, he brings wit, speed, and nerve to the party.
Eromas Ardnn is a wizard from Lystran who believes magic is best handled with study, structure, and preparation. Confident and capable, he quickly learns that not every mystery in A’orth fits neatly into a spellbook.
Edrick Hawthorne is a retired warrior and trusted ally of Violhane. When old threats return and alliances begin to fracture, he is pulled back into a struggle he had hoped was behind him.
Violhane is a Paladin of O’thon whose faith, discipline, and sense of duty have shaped the hopes of those who still believe in him. Revered by many and questioned by others, his choices leave a lasting mark on the fate of A’orth.
Thrain Undreth is a cleric of Surdon, the God of War, rising in influence as fear spreads through Mendinar. Charismatic, forceful, and certain of his purpose, he offers strength to a city desperate for answers.
A’orth is a fractured land where old alliances are weakening, ancient faith is fading, and darkness is beginning to move again.
Jason Morton is a full-time RVer, husband, father, and fantasy author. His debut novel, Paladin’s Bane, grew from years of Dungeons & Dragons campaigns, deep friendships, and a lifelong love of character-driven adventure.
He writes dark fantasy grounded in faith, doubt, loyalty, and the choices people make when the world begins to fall apart. When he is not writing or exploring America’s backroads, he is usually thinking about what comes next for the world of A’orth.
Stay tuned for upcoming events, signings, and appearances.
No events scheduled at this time.
Check back soon for updates on events and appearances.
“Nicely written book full of adventure that keeps your interest. That has almost a hobbit book writing style. If you like sword fighting magic and healing with faith inspiration this book is for you — never a dull moment. Excited for the next book.”
“If you’re a fan of fantasy adventure, this book delivers. From the beginning the book pulls you into a richly imagined world filled with danger, mystery and excitement. The adventure feels epic without losing its emotional core. Would recommend!”
“For a first-time writer, this not only was an excellent read but also a breath of fresh air. Morton borrows from the usual fantasy cliches but makes them his own. The characters are developed and the story moves at a good pace, leaving you eagerly awaiting the next book. This is also a book/series for the reader who wants to try out the fantasy genre for the first time.”
Edrick Hawthorne had lived in silence for two years, but this felt different.
He stood at the edge of the yard, eyes fixed on the dark line of trees that bordered his estate. Two years had passed since Violhane rode east with two companions. Two years of waiting for a sign that never came.
Now, at last, rumors had surfaced, fragmented and uncertain but enough to stir hope where none had lived for months.
Edrick had not hesitated.
Within days he sent messages across the fractured alliances of the realm, calling in every favor he still possessed. If Violhane yet walked the eastern wastes, he would not remain there alone. The timing could not have been worse.
The Scourge strained every settlement. Warriors, mages, and clerics were scarce. Faith in O’thon had withered further since Violhane’s departure, leaving temples hollow and their halls quiet. Edrick had expected refusal. Instead, replies came.
The Gray Elves of Verendi pledged aid. The Wood Elves of Evandor answered as well. The Dwarves of Perenty promised warriors, and even the mage guild in Lystran agreed to send help. None spoke of numbers. None promised abundance. Only that they would come.
Edrick prepared for less than he hoped.
He secured provisions, cleared outbuildings, and hired what extra hands he could. As the days passed, his scouts brought troubling reports. Goblin movement along the forest’s edge had changed, no longer scattered but directed. Trails once lightly traveled now showed heavy passage. Fires burned deeper within the woods.
The quiet did not feel like safety. It felt like something waiting.
Preparations shifted. Storehouses were reinforced. Livestock moved closer to the house. Timber was felled and dragged into place. Wagons were positioned to narrow the approach.
Edrick oversaw it all without raising his voice. The men followed his calm. Good men, steady and hardworking, but untested. They had faced broken fences and stubborn animals, not the things that moved in the forest now.
Edrick had not forgotten how to fight. Steel still felt right in his hand. Endurance, less so.
The estate had never needed fortification. Set along the edge of Evandor, it had long relied on elven patrols and quiet borders. What stood now were hurried defenses, practical rather than permanent. They would not withstand a siege, but they might force an attack into a single path. For now, that would have to be enough.
Hope arrived just past midday.
Three riders emerged from the southern road, breaking from the trees and moving steadily toward the farmstead. Edrick stepped forward, brushing dust from his hands, his eyes searching the road behind them for others.
The first rider reined in, a dwarf from Perenty, broad-shouldered and armored, the king’s crest gleaming across his breastplate.
Edrick spoke before greeting. “How far behind is the rest of your company?”
“No more behind,” the dwarf said.
Edrick held his gaze a moment longer, then looked again down the empty road. Nothing.
The second rider was a human in fine robes and a pointed hat, upright despite the long ride. A mage of Lystran.
The third was another dwarf, leaner and lighter, moving with a balance that suggested a different kind of training. A short sword rested at his side.
“I’m Edrick Hawthorne,” Edrick said. “My men will see to your horses. We should speak inside.” He stepped aside, his eyes lingering on the road. “Come. We have little time.”
The first dwarf dismounted heavily, his presence heavy even before he spoke. “Blodger of the Orendon clan,” he said. “Your name carries in Perenty.” His gaze swept the barricades, the timber, the narrowed approach. “These will not hold long. If you’ll permit it, I’ll help your men strengthen them.”
Edrick nodded. “See my foreman. He’ll show you where we’re weakest.”
Blodger was already moving.
Edrick turned to the robed rider. “Eromas?”
The mage straightened. “Eromas Ardnn,” he corrected. “I’m impressed you remember.”
“You were younger when we met,” Edrick said. “Ambitious.”
“There was a barn involved,” Eromas said stiffly.
“And a horse,” Edrick added.
“The horse survived,” Eromas said. “The barn did not.”
Color crept into the mage’s cheeks.
Edrick leaned in slightly. “I would consider it a kindness if mine remained standing.”
“My control has improved,” Eromas said with forced dignity.
“Let’s hope so,” a voice said behind them. “I’m fond of barns.”
The second dwarf stood there, quiet as if he had always been part of the conversation.
Edrick exhaled. “I didn’t hear you approach.”
“Few do,” the dwarf replied.
Eromas smirked. “This is Flendrick. He’s done that for three days.”
“Flendrick,” Edrick said.
The dwarf inclined his head.
Edrick’s eyes moved to the short sword. “You favor the blade.”
“It is quicker,” Flendrick said. “And quieter.”
“You may find less use for quiet soon.”
Flendrick glanced toward the trees, his gaze lingering. “Then we should work.”
And they did.
For two hours Blodger reinforced weak points, shifting timber with practiced efficiency. Flendrick moved where needed, silent and precise, adjusting what others missed. Edrick worked alongside them.
The sun climbed. The quiet held. Too long.
It was nearing midafternoon when two more riders appeared. They were not slowing. Edrick stepped forward as they crossed into the yard.
The first rider dismounted before her horse had fully stopped, a woman in heavy leather, her hand already on the mace at her side.
“We seek Edrick Hawthorne.”
“You have found him.”
“Alyssa,” she said. “Cleric of O’thon. From the temple outside Mendinar.” Her eyes did not waver. “Goblins are less than an hour out.”
Edrick felt the words settle. “My scouts—”
“They’re moving too fast.”
“They will not see them in time,” she said. “The goblins are not hiding.”
“Who else has the temple sent?”
She held his gaze. “No one.”
Edrick studied her, then nodded. The symbol of O’thon at her throat caught the light. Something in him, long strained, eased.
“And your companion?”
“Metsle,” she said. “Mage of Verendi.”
Young. Too young.
The elf struggled slightly with his reins, robe dark and unadorned.
“He is—” Edrick began.
“He stood when others did not,” Alyssa said.
Metsle said nothing, but he did not look away.
“That will do,” Edrick said.
Alyssa glanced toward the forest. “The Gray Elves will hold the road.”
“Then the goblins will keep to the forest,” Edrick said.
He turned, raising his voice across the yard. “We prepare now!”
Men moved. Steel was gathered. Positions taken.
There was no more time.
Edrick looked once more toward the forest, then to the small group gathered in his yard. This was all that had come. This was all he had.
If they failed here, there would be no one left to stand before what followed.