Grief-stricken over losing his wife in
childbirth, Karydor commands that his son be drowned. Carers choose to hide the
new-born instead. The child, when his father realises his terrible mistake,
vanishes without a trace.
A world is not effortlessly rescued.
While getting the links for EURUE, had a bit of a scroll through my other audiobooks, and found a few reviews I hadn't noticed before:
All audiobook links on AUDIO BOOKS page
Grief-stricken over losing his wife in childbirth, Karydor
commands that his son be drowned. Carers choose to hide the new-born instead.
The child, when his father realises his terrible mistake, vanishes without a
trace.
A world is not effortlessly rescued.
A father will step into that arena, though, because of the love he bears his son. This is Karydor Danae’s atonement.
CHAPTER 10
Midges
do more than bite; they serve as distraction.
~ Finli – Naturalist ~
Occra
Northern Coast
WITH first light they transported to a level area north of the fen. From there, according to Fletcher, it was a twenty-minute walk to the bridge in question. On high ground, the area overlooked the fen and the ocean, as well as giving fair view of the strange steppingstone peninsula that connected Occra to the northern continent where Ghant was the largest occupied territory. Ghant itself was a far grey smudge on the horizon. The steppingstones were giant outcrops of land around which the Natticus Sea swirled. Narrow stone bridges linked each bluff. The sound of almighty waves crashing drowned out even the calling of the seabirds. Karydor found the transport simple to achieve. Fletcher described the region; he pictured it and landed up exactly where envisioned.
“Now we’re talking,” the old man grinned when
he appeared beside him.
Kristyn, on arrival, stared out to sea. Her
golden hair lifted and spread in the fresh breeze. “Astonishing,” she murmured.
“Does anyone live on those outcrops?”
“There is a lighthouse and keeper on the central
one,” Fletcher responded, “and a tavern on another to ease the crossing, but
otherwise it’s deserted. Gets pretty vicious out there in the elements.”
“Hoy there!” a voice called out, causing the
three companions to jerk around.
In that movement, Karydor discovered his right
hand instinctively reaching for a weapon at his hip. He possessed no weapon,
but it was immediately clear to him he once wore a sword and was familiar with
it. Muscle memory, he realised. In that moment, though, he forced the insight
aside to focus on the newcomer. A moment later a huge smile bloomed on his
face. “Naej!”
From a copse of twisted trees, a green giant
emerged, wearing light-weave trousers and tunic of a dun hue, sandals on his
massive feet. He was all smiles. “Captain! You made it!”
The two men met up and clasped arms, a gesture
that had the Sagorin lifting an eyebrow. “This is new,” he said, chin gesturing
at the clasp.
Laughing, Karydor disengaged. “Seems you were
right. I am not Farochin.”
A giant hand slapping his shoulder nearly
drilled him into the earth. “Finally. So, Captain …”
“Enough with the ‘captain’ nonsense.”
Chortling, Naej shifted his attention. “Good
to see you again, Fletcher.”
“You, too, my friend. Glad you could make it.”
The giant looked to where Kristyn stood
watching everything with interest. His olive eyes narrowed. “I feel as if I
should know your kind, but the memory of you slips from grasp. Why is that?”
She smiled. “A long story. I am Valleur.”
His gaze sharpened. “Amber quartz. The Valleur
mined amber quartz on Glorium, our homeworld, a long time ago.” He shook his
great head, causing his multitude of thin plaits, a mixture of grey and black
hair, to dance. “Strange; it feels akin to a dischant.”
“It is. I will tell you when we have time for that
tale,” Kristyn murmured. She extended her arm. “The Valleur regard the Sagorin
as friends.”
Naej gently clasped arms with her, smiling
again. “You are here to help with the imminent failure of the terraform?”
She inclined her head.
“Did anyone else make it, Naej?” Karydor
asked.
The big man nodded. “I heard that Lariki
washed up on Anaphus and went to check on him. He got bashed about pretty badly
and is still at the healer’s in Napi Vale. I promised to sneak back in and
collect him in about a week.”
“Glad to hear it,” Karydor said.
“No need to blame yourself for what happened.
That wave? There was no besting it.”
Karydor shrugged. While that was true, it did
not serve to mitigate his feeling of guilt. He changed the subject. “And just
how did you manage to ‘sneak’ in? You?” Grinning, he indicated the overt
presence of a giant, one with obviously green skin no less.
Naej roared laughter. “I have my ways!”
“Glamour,” Fletcher pointed out.
Rolling his eyes, Karydor said, “We are
invited to a meet on the bridge at ten bells.”
The Sagorin gaped at him. “The sorcerer’s
bridge? How in hell did you manage that? No one has set foot on that bridge in
more than fifty years.”
Karydor smirked. “I have my ways,” he said,
which caused the giant to roar laughter. He readied to deliver a back slap, an
action Karydor fortunately had the foresight to duck away from.
“Oh, behave,” Fletcher muttered, “both of you.
Let’s get to walking.”
The Fen Path
THE PATH wound down to bog territory. It still stank, but here the ocean breezes somewhat lessened the stench. In single file they negotiated a sliver of a path through the insect-ridden stagnant ponds. Periodic white stones revealed the way.
“In the past this place was more visited,
particularly by leaders in the know, and the residents of yon stronghold
considered it wiser not to dump folk into the fen,” Fletcher informed when
Kristyn asked about the marker stones.
“Why can’t we see this stronghold? It’s so
flat,” Kristyn said.
“I think the main question here should be …”
Naej began, only to be interrupted.
“Sagorin, one would swear you never ended up
in the ocean,” Fletcher muttered. “You’re like a youth with your ‘insights’.
Have you not questioned me to near death already?”
Karydor, at the head of their column, halted and
turned. “Yes, Naej, how is it you show little ill from that dunking?”
Thick grey eyebrows beetled upward in a green
face as the Sagorin came to standstill along with the others. “Were you not
hearing me back on Walkin? I am immortal. A dunking …”
Karydor held a hand up. “I thought you were
being facetious.”
Naej shook his head.
Blinking, Karydor simply stared at him.
Shrugging, Naej stepped forward, forcing
everyone to go on moving, including Karydor, who wordlessly swung around again.
As the Sagorin walked, he talked. “A storm such as we endured curtails the
ability to employ our talents, which is why I did end up in the water unable to
transport out. Had I been able to, I would have fetched everyone away to
safety, but it did mean I could not drown. Think about it, Karydor. That was
some event; we should all be dead. Yet three of us made it. What does that tell
you?” Karydor did not answer. Huffing about stubbornness, Naej went on. “Lariki
is a Sylmer, which means, the moment he is immersed too long, his legs
transform into a fish tail. He, too, could have helped us to safety, kept us
afloat, swum us to calmer water, but unfortunately, he suffered severe breaks
and bruising when a portion of the deck bore him into the depths. He survived
it, because he breathes under water, but it took him a while to free himself
from the wreckage. Yes, only an immortal
Sylmer is able to walk on two legs.”
Karydor growled under his breath.
“And then there is you.”
Without turning this time, Karydor halted …
and waited.
Between the two men, Fletcher and Kristyn
glanced at each other, but neither dared interfere. Crossing his arms over his
mighty chest, Naej braced with one foot tapping the soggy ground impatiently.
“It took me a while to figure it out. Your mind-set wasn’t that of a youth.
Your insight spoke of otherworld knowledge. The sometimes-instinctive actions
you took, much like you reaching for a sword earlier, revealed your muscle
memory knew of a different way …”
Karydor swung around. “Just spit it out.”
“Reborn, my friend. You will remember who you
were at the same age when you underwent your Immortality Ritual.”
Much like a statue, Karydor did not move,
other than a flicker of his left eyelid.
“We cannot wait for that,” Kristyn said.
The Sagorin lowered his gaze to her.
“Meaning?”
“Meaning Karydor achieved the Ritual at an age
that will see most of Farochin dead before it will come to pass again. Valleur
live long.”
Huge green arms loosened. “He is Valleur?” She nodded. “Well … fuck.”
Glaring up, she demanded, “And what does that mean?”
“The dischant sunders in hearing you claim
race. You lot deliberately made us forget, but now I remember the Valleur
again. If Karydor is Valleur … man, we’re talking old. Before the split between the golden and dark kind.”
Suddenly alarmed, she whispered, “Do not say the dark kind name.”
Licking his lips, Naej nodded.
“Interesting that you would know of such a
split,” Fletcher murmured.
The Sagorin gifted him a baleful look. “I am
no seer, Trinian. I happened to cross paths one day with a survivor of said
dark kind and he told me a story one drunken night, a story I have never
forgotten. See, he spoke his name and had I not been immortal I would surely
have died. In the morning he did not remember, but I did.”
Karydor reanimated. Swearing foully, he took
to the path once more.
The Fen Bridge
FLETCHER’S claim of a twenty-minute walk from the height they arrived on was off the mark. The path through stinking pools twisted and meandered so much, it was closer on two hours before a bridge came into view. By then tempers were frayed, for every step was plagued by flies, mosquitos and other flying leeches. The bridge was there, but no sight of a stronghold.
“It’s shielded,” Kristyn discerned. “This is
why we cannot see it.”
“In the past the invited found the edifice
waiting, but no one sees it now,” Fletcher added. He scratched at his chin. “I
wonder who is within. There is no record of the sorcerers who left Trin and
there is no record of them here.”
“Only one way to find out,” Karydor growled,
and stepped onto the bridge.
“Foolish,” Fletcher muttered, but it was
already too late.
At the far end a form materialised as if
exiting a doorway. It did not approach; it waited. As Fletcher set foot to the
stone walkway, another form appeared. Kristyn, about to follow, found herself
detained when Naej gripped her shoulder and halted her. “We wait. Someone needs
to remain outside … in the event.”
Glancing over his shoulder, Fletcher nodded
his agreement and, thus, huffing, she stayed put. Karydor meanwhile strode
across. His temper had now taken over.
The first form, a tall man hooded and cloaked,
stepped forward and held one gloved hand up. “Halt. Do you know who you are?”
Frowning, Karydor came to a stop. The words
made sense to him, and yet it was not Farochin the man spoke. How did … what
did … what was …
“Valleur!” Kristyn shouted from somewhere.
“Don’t go with them!”
His skin erupted into gooseflesh. Why not? If
this was a Valleur speaking Valleur, then surely … An instant later he lost all
sense of time and place. Darkness overtook his world.
“NO!” Kristyn screamed as Karydor vanished.
The two forms disappeared also, and so did the
bridge. Fletcher discovered himself summarily dumped into foul fen treacle.
“What the fuck?” Naej hollered. He waded into
the stinking water to retrieve Fletcher, hauling the man backwards with massive
hands under frailer armpits. “What just happened?”
Back on the sliver of dry path, the Trinian
spat dirty liquid from his mouth. “Probably get the runs,” he muttered.
Spluttering some more, he straightened.
“Fletch?” Kristyn demanded.
The old man sighed and gave a wry shrug. “They
were waiting for him.”
“Well, yes …”
“No, Kristyn, I mean they were waiting for Karydor.”
“Explain that!” Naej roared.
“Valleur,” Kristyn whispered, her tawny eyes
widening. “They knew he was here.” She licked her lips when Naej dug his huge
fingers into her shoulder and then stared up at the Sagorin. “The dark kind you
mentioned earlier? Karydor lays claim to that bloodline.”
“And they were waiting for him to come to
them,” Fletcher said.
The Sagorin stared at the emptiness ahead.
“Because his name is a word of power, one able to unmake a terraform.” He
glared at the Valleur staring up at him. “Why would a Valleur wish for failure here?”
She grimaced. “Some Valleur still fight the
war. Humankind won and the wounds and scars are still fresh.”
“And Farochin, despite what the locals think,
is all about humankind,” Fletcher added.
Farochin's audio book on Audible.com …
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… nice to see, given it's been a day!
Grief-stricken over losing his wife in childbirth, Karydor commands that his son be drowned. Carers choose to hide the new-born instead. The child, when his father realises his terrible mistake, vanishes without a trace.
A world is not effortlessly rescued.
Grief-stricken over losing his wife in childbirth, Karydor
commands that his son be drowned. Carers choose to hide the new-born instead.
The child, when his father realises his terrible mistake, vanishes without a
trace.
Ages later, suffering cycles of rebirth to walk in the same time as his son, Karydor discovers the identity of the man his son becomes and, in need of atonement, sets out to ease his path through life, hoping for a future when he will be able to look him in the eye without guilt.
On Farochin, a world where the terraform is about to fail, Karydor, Kristyn, Echayn and Fletcher team up, hoping to save the world from the influences of FARA, the godhood responsible for the failure.
A god, however, is not easily undermined.
A world is not effortlessly rescued.
A father will step into that arena, though, because of the love he bears his son. This is Karydor Danae’s atonement.
Grief-stricken over losing his wife in childbirth, Karydor
commands that his son be drowned. Carers choose to hide the new-born instead.
The child, when his father realises his terrible mistake, vanishes without a
trace.
Ages later, suffering cycles of rebirth to walk in the same time as his son, Karydor discovers the identity of the man his son becomes and, in need of atonement, sets out to ease his path through life, hoping for a future when he will be able to look him in the eye without guilt.
On Farochin, a world where the terraform is about to fail, Karydor, Kristyn, Echayn and Fletcher team up, hoping to save the world from the influences of FARA, the godhood responsible for the failure.
A god, however, is not easily undermined.
A world is not effortlessly rescued.
A father will step into that arena, though, because of the love he bears his son. This is Karydor Danae’s atonement.
CHAPTER 1
A flag is History’s banner.
~ Adjunct
Glestiel of Nolkoth ~
Farochin
Thela
City of Therin
SUMMER in Therin this year was milder than usual, according to the locals, and yet sufficiently present to make for uncomfortable sleeping patterns. When the sun rose, Karydor was relieved. The act of trying for rest could now be abandoned. Nightmares plagued him, too; respite was elusive for many reasons.
Dressing swiftly in lightweight linen after
splashing tepid water on his face and completing the morning ritual of
ablutions, he hastened down the bougainvillea enhanced outer stairs to the
cobbled street in search of breakfast. The old man baker on the corner knew his
hours; a savoury pastry would be waiting.
It was indeed waiting, steaming on a platter,
although the old man was not in sight. He was rarely in sight, preferring not
to talk to Karydor - or, more correctly, be seen talking to Karydor.
Karydor snatched it up and, chewing, wandered
along the lonely path down to the ocean.
The tide was in, and the wind seemed
favourable, which meant ships were able to enter harbour. Sitting on the low
sea wall encrusted with dry seaweed, he finished his tartlet while watching
masts aplenty vanish south to where the calm deep-water and a berth awaited.
The Waymere Sea on Thela’s western coast was still, the sky clear, beckoning
travellers to cross the ocean to lands beyond. Few did, according to the tales
he overheard while picking olives; most would head north again from here and
then east into Natticus Sea instead, the cradle of their civilisation on
Farochin.
Inhaling the fresh air before the summer winds
dried it to kiln degrees, Karydor simply sat. Today was a rest day; no pressing
duties required his attention. Unfortunately, that also meant he could not hide
from himself, but this day he intended to remain as serene as the gently
lapping waves. Anger and aggression did little to aid the process of recovery,
after all.
He knew his name and he knew one date, and
that was all. Memory of before was lost when he went overboard a ship much like
those now lining up to the south, he was told. No ship’s captain or
quartermaster had yet recognised him; either no one wished to know him, or his
ship had sailed onward.
He had no recall of going into the ocean, but
his clothes revealed him as a seaman, according to the healer he eventually
woke up to. They hauled him, waterlogged and near drowned, from the beach after
a storm. That was two months ago, and no memory had resurfaced.
Other than a date.
The healer, upon hearing it, looked around in
some fright and advised him not to repeat it. The man would not be drawn
further, despite repeated prompting even after he discharged his patient. While
he was no help regarding information, he did arrange a bedsit for Karydor in
the recuperation enclave, as well as work on the olive farms to the east. The
labour was intense, but Karydor preferred that to any activity involving the
sea.
To the east, behind him, the first yellow rays
breached the hilltops and sent tendrils amid the earthy-hued structures that
comprised sleepy Therin. Soon the city would awaken, and a buzz would overtake
the natural world’s sounds.
Standing, he chose to amble along the
shoreline; it afforded the most privacy. He preferred avoiding people or, more
correctly, the strange glances they sent his way. He did not look like them. He
could not explain it, and no one seemed to have the courage to tell him more.
Even the farm labourers avoided him.
Perhaps this morning a ship would put in with
someone aboard who knew his face, or at least his kind.
Therin Harbour
RIGGING groaned and sails flapped. Barnacled hull bashed against swollen jetty, and sailors everywhere shouted and cursed, laughed and jeered at mates, either engaged in securing ships, offloading merchandise, or smoking together where the quays met dry land.
It was chaos.
Karydor counted sixteen vessels, with six more
awaiting entry, and noted wagons begin the descent from the merchant district
to the harbour road. Structured chaos would soon become bedlam.
Gritting his teeth to still his instinctive
reaction to the noise and frenetic activity - frustration that frequently led
to fury - he ambled to the far docks where the larger ships berthed. Those
sailors travelled further, and many were from strange ports; perhaps one
working them would deign to talk to him.
Moving through crowds of men, who swiftly
stepped out of his way, given that he towered over them, he noted a fair few
shaven heads showing fuzzy growth, lending their scalps a coppery sheen. No
doubt the roll of a ship at sea put an end to grooming, fuzz being preferable
to nicks and gashes. He grimaced, watching them watch him; not only was he
larger than everyone in Therin, but
his dark brown hair flowed to mid-back. He arrived with his tresses attached to
his head from the ocean; he refused to shave to bare skull, although the healer
had recommended he do so, to fit in, apparently. He lost his temper that day,
hearing that.
The locals were placid. He was not. Wherever
he hailed from, clearly equanimity was not among his people’s traits. He
snorted as he approached a hulking vessel, acknowledging that maybe his temper
was out of place even among his own.
The Dromerias
had seen better days, but was a strong ship. Isolated at the far point, it
summoned him. Perhaps it was the lack of activity that drew him, but more
likely was the silence. Admittedly, the two states complemented each other, and
yet this silence contained something extra. What that was, he could not fathom;
intrigued, he closed in.
Karydor soon squinted up. The absence of
movement on deck seemed unnatural. Either the vessel arrived on the night’s
tide and had already unloaded, its crew now in port somewhere, or something
else kept everyone below. He frowned, noticing the colours snap in the breeze.
On a black background, a silver sickle moon cradled an emerald. He shuddered on
truly seeing it. He knew that flag. He had no memory of it, but he knew it.
An odd sound pierced the even stranger
silence.
The pull of a longbow.
How he knew that, Karydor could not gauge, for
the locals generally openly carried daggers only, but again, the knowing was
immediate. This was a longbow.
He instantly sidestepped.
An arrow thudded into the planking beside him.
“I suggest you leave,” someone said. A man of
some maturity, by his tone.
No, he was not walking away. After two months
of nothing, now this? Silence, longbow, the sense of summons? Here was
something in the offing, something he did not foresee upon waking earlier, and
he would be the fool if he walked away. He wanted answers and those answers
might be before him now. That arrow was no more than a warning; the intent had
not been to kill. He hoped so, anyway, and took the risk.
“Do you know me?” Karydor asked.
He spoke
the language - Faroche - but had questioned whether it was his native tongue.
He possessed an inflection no Therin inhabitant had yet revealed.
Instantly
a white head of hair craned over the railing above. He had hair. Karydor’s heart stuttered into an uneven rhythm. Hair. Like
to his. The man was old, his face lined and weathered, his skin tanned to that
of aging wood. Hazel orbs latched onto his.
“I do not
know you, but I can tell you are not from these parts.”
Karydor
snorted again, aloud this time. “Pretty obvious, I’d say. Seems you are not a
local either.”
A cackle
erupted. “Did the hair give me away?”
“The bow,
too,” Karydor grinned.
“Bring the
arrow,” the old man commanded, and shoved at something. A rope ladder swung
over the side. “Come aboard.”
Karydor
worked the arrow free - a slim head, sharp. Whoever made it had to be a master.
He then gripped the nearest rung and clambered up He was not about to deny this
opportunity, whatever it might herald. Those answers? He needed them.
At the end of the Lore Series, Torrullin
Valla and Elianas Danae vanish into the mists with their homeworld Avaelyn, but
the story doesn’t end there. What happens to Tristan Skyler Valla, for example,
about to embark on a Timekeeper journey with Alusin Algheri? Where is Karydor
Danae, the reincarnate father Torrullin has yet to meet?
In EURUE: The Forgotten World, a
century later, we find out about Tristan and Alusin’s future as they pit their
talents against a man half-dead, half-alive lying in a hidden casket somewhere
on Eurue. Gabryl embarks on a campaign to rouse the realms to Eurue’s forgotten
status, using the strange spinning orbs known as daetal to further his
ambitions.
In FAROCHIN: The Terraformed World,
we meet Karydor as he wakes up to memory loss on Farochin ages before Torrullin
has ever stepped forward as the power he will become. Karydor and Echayn Valla,
his brother-in-law, soon find themselves racing to save Farochin from Felix of
the Murs, who seeks to undo the terraform in order to become a god. Karydor
seeks to atone before he meets his son.
In LYKANDIR: The Measured World, two
kings look up to see a world on approach. King Androdin in the south and King
Drakan in the north understand that it will lead to chaos, utter change. As
clansmen, watchmakers and wer-men scramble for solutions, the kings find
themselves face to face with the men from that world, led by Torrullin Valla
and Elianas Danae. It seems Lykandir and Avaelyn seek to occupy the same space
in the realm Avaelyn vanished into.
In AVAELYN: The Enshrouded World,
the timelines align once more. A thousand years have passed, and Avaelyn
returns to her designated place. However, many wish to keep Torrullin and
Elianas at bay, and thus is their world wrapped in a shroud that blinds all to
their presence. Meanwhile, the children of Reaume suffer to keep it that way,
and that is simply unacceptable.
In AVIOR: The Mythical World, the
true enemy is revealed, an Ancient Valla who seems hellbent on creating a seat
of tyrannical power. To the world Avior, which most regard as a myth, all
forces are summoned. The entire Valla family strides into battle, for
only the Vallas can stop this Valla. What they discover below the surface is heart-breaking.
From the realms of time to the reality of lost
souls, through hope and cruelty, we reconnect with familiar characters, and
meet a host of new ones. An old sword with an agenda reappears, while a new
talisman is forged from desperation … and so much more. An epic adventure,
indeed!
After finishing the Ancient Terra series, I went back and reworked all five books. Fresh edits, streamlined formatting and cover tweaks. Essentially the same, but better, and only Lykandir needed a completely reworked cover (the others are simply updated).
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… that the final Ancient Terra books are live! YES!!
You all know I have been writing the final instalment for this series (one of the reasons I was somewhat scarce here), but something strange happened. See, Avaelyn was meant to be book 4, following on from Eurue, Farochin and Lykandir … but it grew and grew and grew, until it went over 350k words. Given the style of the series, that would have meant three books of around 130k-ish and one massive final volume, and this didn't suit, in my opinion. So, TWO books ends up finishing the series! Avaelyn and Avior! While they are part of the same story, each focuses on one part of the whole, and that meant the massive volume could be split. This means the style of the series remains as I envisioned it (with 5 books now rather than 4!). Eurue, Farochin and Lykandir are standalone, but the final two are meant to be read sequentially.
So, without further ado, here's how the completed series appears (the omnibus will be available soon):
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P.S.: I did tell you Avaelyn's cover might change, and it did :)
(Posting links and blurbs next)
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