Prophecy's Deception: Book 1: Andarean Realms Prophecies Series
Contents
Title Page
Back Cover
Books by AS Hamilton
Acknowledgements
Map - Seda-eirra
Map - Andarea
The Prophecy
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Book 2: Prophecy's Quest
Glossary
Elvan Houses
Prophecy's Deception
Book 1: Andarean Realms Prophecies
by AS Hamilton
Copyright AS Hamilton
2017
ISBN-13: 978-1-925765-00-7
This work is copyright. Apart from any use permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced by any process, nor may any other exclusive right be exercised, without the permission of AS Hamilton (who can be contacted via www.ashamilton.com).
Books by AS Hamilton
Andarean Realms Prophecies (Fantasy)
Prophecy's Deception
Prophecy's Quest (Coming January 2018)
Prophecy Unveiled (Coming 2018)
Empyrean Realms (Paranormal/Fantasy)
Soul Taker's Redemption (Coming April 2018)
Soul Taker Reborn (Coming 2018)
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Acknowledgements
The actual writing may be done alone, but this book could not have been finished without the encouragement and support of my husband.
I am also thankful for the support of my family and friends. Thank you, also, to my editor, Craig Cormick (http://craigcormick.com/#!/works/), for contributing his experience, advice and talent. I have also been fortunate enough to work with Robert Crescenzio (https://robertcrescenzio.artstation.com/),whose exceptional artistic talent brought my imaginations into reality.
World Map - Seda-eirra
Nation Map - Andarea
The Prophecy
A saviour with hair of silver blended with midnight's hue
He has eyes that are droplets of the ocean's deepest blue
Upon him the mark of silent death can be found
Which earns him loyalty that is endlessly bound
All talents his, from Abbarane's triumph he rides away
Behind dawn's light, on valiant charger, white with patched grey
Upon spring bloom, he must make the journey to find Soul's Death
Which can be found within the stone tempered by dragon's breath
The key to freedom, the hidden one, he must find
This guardian is found in the eyes of the blind
To mend the mistakes of the past, he must seek unity
And forsake the fallen's pleas to fulfil his prophecy.
Chapter 1
Forty turns ago
Sal-Cirus
The wind rippled the grass of the plains, bringing the chill promise of autumn. High above, the moon had risen, gracing the lands with a silver glow. Beneath the swirl and whisper of the wind, hid the sound of armour shifting. Within the cover of the tall summer grasses, hid the swords and shields. And behind those weapons, waiting restlessly, were the men who would take a nation.
Further back, horses shifted nervously. Men fidgeted with their weapons. All awaited the word to attack. His Lord, Keldon Abbarane, directed his glossy, black warhorse to the hillside adjacent to Sal-Cirus. He was a tall man, broad in the chest and well-muscled through combat and training. Beneath his helm, his shoulder-length blond hair had darker highlights and his clean-shaven jaw was square and unyielding. Dark-green eyes glittered with triumph as he looked upon his ranks. He smiled; they had laughed at him all those turns ago. A minor minister in his government, his peers had mocked him and his ideas. Now, he ruled it and four other nations! This was his sixth venture, and, as it turned out, his most ambitious.
Immersed in political turmoil, the land of Andarea had not even had an organised military to protect her borders. When planning how to take control of the continent he decided to leave what he had thought was the least demanding campaign until last. But he learned quickly that this nation would not bow to him easily and the defence the elvan offered actually challenged him for a while. There had been a lot more to overcome than his initial scouting reports suggested.
The race was practically immortal: he knew of no elvan who had died naturally. Their long, pointed ears were reminiscent of a wild cat he'd once killed on the plains of Avenleer. Their canines and accompanying teeth, as well as the matching lower teeth, were longer and ended in sharp points. The elvan were proud of these features because they were something they shared with their mythical gods, scaled dragon-cat creatures, called may-en-ghi. They claimed the may-en-ghi had civilised them, but only the great sages knew why they thought having sharp teeth and pointed ears like a beast was anything to be proud of.
Their hair held a curious trait: it shimmered iridescently. Like a mystical silk curtain the colours shifted with changes in movement or light. Sometimes the shades were subtle and difficult to distinguish, but in some clans, such as the Ko-renti warriors, the effect was more striking. Members of this clan had black hair with gold, orange, and red threaded through it. When a breeze picked it up, it looked like flame through smoke. Early on in the war he had come across an elvan family with hair the colour of a rich, dark wood threaded with a distinctive burgundy that reminded him of red wine. That family, the Tiengaras, were the only elvan he'd met that did not possess the creamy pearl-white skin common to their race, but had tawny copper-gold skin.
Their faces were narrow and sharp, and their eyes were oddly slanted. Those eyes held the same quality as the hair, never precisely one colour. If they were blue, they held every shade of blue you could imagine, from the sky to the sea. When the sun reflected off that hair at the right angle, and those brilliantly-coloured eyes met yours, they looked quite ethereal, quite... unearthly. He found that when he was killing them it was easier if he did not meet that beautiful gaze: a tiger's eyes might be captivating, but the creature would still kill you if you hesitated. The same could be said of elvan.
On average, they were almost half a meter taller than most humans, with many of their warriors reaching over two meters. They were light-footed and incredibly agile, giving them an advantage in hand-to-hand combat that was devastating. Then there were their mages to consider...
A mage was the elvan's version of a wizard, except the name they gave their 'magic' was 'talent'. They claimed their talent had logical and hard-learned explanations, but it still seemed like magic to him when he saw a mage take a sword slash without flinching. He'd watched one use his mind to suck the air out of an assailant, suffocating him without ever touching him. Not to mention the storms they brewed, the earthquakes they evoked, or the mass mind attacks they inflicted upon their enemies. Despite all these seemingly formidable obstacles, Keldon had adapted. Spears, lances, and arrows became their primary fighting tools. Bolas and pit traps worked effectively, too. That, and the fact his forces outnumbered the enemy's by close to ten to one. Still, their mages managed to turn his attacks aside time and again. At least until L
iacoren brought him a solution. A human mage trained by an elvan, Liacoren was able to perceive weaknesses in elvan mages that were less obvious to those unfamiliar with the elvan culture.
Hundreds of thousands had fallen beneath the might of his army, yet this great nation had held him off the longest. Now, he was finally within reach of the capital and within that capital — the Crown! The ruling pair, Diannra and Caradon, would fall this night, and with them, their nation.
It was a prize well worth the cost. Andarea had very advanced technologies that they did not export. At first it had confused him how they could have a sophisticated underground transport system and machines that could do everything from record thoughts to clean floors automatically, but they used horses, for the most part, to travel individually and fought with swords. Granted, their armour and swords could retract. For instance, a helm could expand out from a circlet, or a staff could convert to a spear. But his scouts reported a capability for weaponry far more innovative than what they used. They did not even have money, using a barter system for commerce. The answer, he discovered, was attributable to their beliefs and where their magic came from. They believed that if they developed their weapons, it would be too easy to kill and their society might devolve as they had seen happen in other countries, where thousands of lives were lost to disputes over territory. As a community Andarea decided to limit the kinds of weapons they developed. They recognised that this might be seen as a weakness by other countries and to this end they deterred invasion by changing their land using their magic to line their borders with cliffs, mountain ranges and wide waterways. Their magic was powered by nature, all their lighting and machinery also ran off natural energies and this was the reason they advanced some technologies but not others. They did not want to deforest large tracts of land for roadways or cities, so they worked with their environment. It turned out they could talk to and understand animals, so often when they rode a horse is was a case of friendship rather than a rider and an animal. They preferred to ride. Keldon could not understand it, his scouts had described their underground transport system, which was designed for large groups of people. It had carriages and could transport you across the entire continent in a matter of a day or two. Indeed, it had been his plan to get control of that first, but the damnable elvan had completely dismantled it, probably anticipating he would target it and then use it to move his troops around. It mattered little now, for he was finally here. This night he would finally achieve the victory he had worked so hard for, in part, thanks to Liacoren gaining him the one thing he needed to defeat their mages — an elvan mage of his own.
Soon he would have access to both their technology as well as the natural resources they had gone to so much trouble preserving. Keldon raised his sword and angled it so the steel flashed in the moonlight. He looked to the mage beside him. 'Are you certain all the sentries are asleep?' he asked in his commanding voice.
Iridescent pale-blue eyes flicked in his direction, the pale-blue hair shifting to reveal shades of gold. 'It has been done, Lord Abbarane,' the mage murmured, his Common marred by his elvan accent.
Lord Keldon Abbarane dropped his sword, the signal sending his forces forth: a blood tide that would overwhelm the now unprotected city below.
Day 1 – Morning (Present time)
Alarus Forest
(near Haranti)
Brynn studied the landscape before him carefully, someone was hiding out there, waiting for him. His skin prickled; a warning signal with him since early childhood. His keen, blue eyes could detect nothing, though. Mayhap he was just being overly anxious. After all, he was an elvan in Abbarane territory, which was akin to being a mouse in an alley full of starving cats. He decided not to cross the field, but to go the long way, so he could remain in the relative safety of the trees until he was closer to the place where he would cross the fields to the Mehani Woods. Raising his tall, graceful form with ease, Brynn flicked long, dark hair back and reluctantly made his way over to Sershja. He wanted to stay and watch for the unseen, yet he knew that if they had been there long enough to wait until now, they would be ready to wait an age.
Sershja made a soft, startled grunt when Brynn patted his rump to let him know he had returned. The horse's acute hearing had not detected a sound because Brynn had learned how not to make one. The skill was gained only through painstakingly-long sessions of practice under his tutors — Kassan's sharp eyes and Sarre's even keener hearing had often thwarted him when training. Today, that practice was a distant memory and Brynn was amused by the thought that he could practically dine only a few meters from a patrol without them discovering his presence.
He really should have brought Del-era. The other horse's dark colours would have better camouflaged him in this environment. Instead, he had decided to bring Sershja, who was strong and hardy; good for a long trip, but whose grey and white colouring made him stand out amongst the trees like a ghost haunting a wood. His instincts told him he would need Sershja's greater stamina this time. Sershja was also better trained for battle.
Brynn considered using his talent to find out for certain if someone was hidden in the field's long grasses. Almost before the thought was finished, Brynn discarded the idea. Use of his talent now would be like lighting a flare on a moonless night on the highest hill you could find that was barren of trees. Far better for his pursuers to think he was just a plain, untalented elvan. At least until he reached more populated areas where he would not be the only traveller around. After taking a long drink from his water skin, Brynn retrieved two small, golden apples, and fed them to Sershja; the horse had earned the break.
Any elvan discovered with talent faced death in these lands. The original conqueror of Andarea, Keldon Abbarane, had feared that a resurgence of elvan mages amongst the rebel ranks would strengthen their stand against him. His successor and son, Malithorn, was twice as wary and even more ruthless, slaying any elvan possessing even a mere droplet of talent if they did not join his ranks.
Unlike his father, Malithorn Abbarane did not fear talented elvan because of the aid they could give the rebels. Malithorn's fear stemmed from his belief in The Prophecy, which foretold the downfall of those who brought about the nation's defeat. In actuality, there were two prophecies, both seen by seers eight centuries before. The first, called The Prophecy of Desolation, foretold the defeat of Andarea and detailed a brutal and dismal future. The second, known as The Prophecy, was seen by just one seer, a child called Toormeena. She had seen how the nation could reclaim its freedom under the leadership of an elvan mage.
One of the remarkable things about the second prophecy was that Toormeena had been so young when she had seen it. The other extraordinary aspect was that while all seers had seen the first prophecy, only Toormeena had seen the second. Seers had several classes they applied to visions, there were minor ones, a short vision of a minor event or interaction, which were usually of a personal nature. Then there were visions of moderate significance, which oft-times related to the wider community, and major visions regarding a significant event or person. It was these major visions that were called prophecies and given titles. It was only because Toormeena had shared her memory of the vision with her grandfather that others had come to know of it. Toormeena's grandfather was the one to write The Prophecy as a verse to give the people hope.
The Prophecy described the mage who could lead them to freedom and what he needed to do to achieve the outcome Toormeena had seen. This was why, even after all these turns since the war had ended, Abbarane's forces actively hunted rebel mages and why Brynn needed to be extra careful when using his talent. Brynn patted Sershja on the neck, glad he had not had to live through that war — but feeling guilty for his gladness.
With playful affection, he ruffled Sershja's mane, being sure to avoid the tender stumps where the charger's horns had been removed. Normally, Sershja had two long horns that curved up and out from just behind his ears before dipping down to extend along either side of his muzzle. It was a
result of his breeding; Sershja was a dwarven charger. When one considered that such a short-statured race were the successful breeders of the largest horses ever bred, it was hard not to be amused. But the dwarven made good use of the animals in their various construction activities. The chargers also commandeered top price at any market, which kept many a retired dwarven's pantry full. It was this exorbitance and the fact that very few non-dwarven races had successfully bred them that kept the chargers out of most militaries, or at least made of them a specialist unit rather than a common one. It was also well known that dwarven had two prices, one for the military and one for everyone else.
Sershja's horns would grow back in a few turns and when he was older, two more horns would branch out from the first set, but would be half as long. He would also develop a horn-like covering that would protect the front of his forehead and muzzle as well as his chest, extending up around his collar bone. His forelegs would also develop this covering. At the moment, with his horns removed, Sershja looked similar to a plough horse and would attract less attention. This was in part because he was so young and had not grown to full size.
Brynn lifted himself onto Sershja's back and they made their slow, steady way around the field. Eventually, he would travel to Sal-Cirus, hoping to see Toormeena who had been captured at the end of the war and imprisoned. House of Toorian, the house Toormeena belonged to, led people to believe that the verse was all that was known of The Prophecy, but a few select rebels knew that this was a deception and there was much more to The Prophecy. The problem was that without access to Toormeena, they could not take advantage of this knowledge. That was why the rebels needed a mage with the talent to 'see' to speak with her.