They Have Returned.
The siege of Arelium has been broken, but only at a great and terrible cost. The Baron has fallen, the unsuspecting victim of an intricate web of lies devised to drive a wedge between Arelium and the coastal Barony of Kessrin.
Merad Reed, scarred and disillusioned, is haunted by the tragic deaths of the men under his command. When all contact is lost with the Old Guard of Morlak, he reluctantly travels north to investigate, only to find the truth is far worse than anything he could have imagined.
After narrowly escaping an attempt on her own life, Jelaïa del Arelium is struggling to understand her emerging abilities, and the crippling addiction that comes with them. The priestesses of Brachyura may hold the answers she seeks, but after years of protecting the secrets of the Twelve can they still be trusted?
Lord Praxis, now acting as Regent, must face the unforeseen consequences of his own machinations when a simple dagger leads him from the shining towers of Kessrin to the tempestuous Sea of Sorrow, and a terrifying new threat.
Meanwhile, somewhere on a dusty road far from civilisation, an ancient demi-god is slowly coming to meet them. He has awoken from decades of slumber to fulfil his one last purpose …
Lay waste to the lands of men.
Genre: FICTION / Fantasy / Epic- Book released end of June, several dozen downloads in one week
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“Again!”
The olive-skinned youth spat out a mouthful of dirt and pulled himself laboriously to his feet. He took a moment to catch his breath, his cold, piercing blue eyes scanning his surroundings. The temple practice yard had been deliberately built on the very edge of the clifftop. Three sides of the stone-columned square were turned towards the barren, windswept bluffs of Kessrin. The last side looked out over the churning Sea of Sorrow, its foam-flecked waves crashing relentlessly against the jagged rocks hundreds of feet below. No one would survive such a fall, no matter how skilled or resilient he might be. The callous, destructive power of the sea was a constant reminder of man’s insignificance.
Dark grey storm clouds boiled angrily overhead, pushed inland by the strong maritime wind. A flash of brilliant white lightning followed by a growling rumble of thunder heralded what was soon to come.
“Aldarin! Again!”
A dozen initiates lined the western side of the square, still as statues, their backs to the desolate sea. They were focused intently on two young men sparring in the grit and dirt of the yard, and the taciturn temple master instructing them.
Aldarin’s adversary was different from him in almost every way: squat and broad-shouldered where Aldarin was tall and wiry; blond-haired and pale-skinned where Aldarin was tanned with close-cropped black hair. And, of course, perfect patrician features in contrast to Aldarin’s battered, flat nose and scarred visage. His name was Caddox, and Aldarin wanted nothing more than to grind that blond hair and flawless smile into the stinging grit of the practice yard.
“Aldarin!” the temple master called again irritably. The wind was picking up, swirling the loose dirt into miniature whirlwinds.
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French
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Unavailable for translation.
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Portuguese
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Already translated.
Translated by Luis henrique Bizinelli
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Author review: Luis Henrique once again translated the book within the allotted time and did a great job. Thanks, Luis. |
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Spanish
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Already translated.
Translated by Lena Allievi
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Author review: Another great translation by Lena. |
