The Hirono Chronicles , livre ebook

Markosia Enterprises Ltd - Thomas J.H. Boggis

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54 pages

English

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When a legion of foreign mercenaries attacks their village, young Takashi Asano and his best friend Kamari Shiro set out for Harakima castle, the seat of Lord Orran, to warn him of the impending threat. Ripped from his old life and thrust along this unknown path, Takashi encounters many strange things that change his world forever; he learns of the wolves and the reason he feels a strange connection with them, he learns of Orran's Blade and the terrible monster locked within it and he meets Meera, daughter of Lord Orran, and learns what he will do to have her by his side… Book 1 of The Hirono Chronicles trilogy - MEERA takes you on a journey into the distant past to a land where honour, respect and duty are valued above life itself, a land where death is no barrier to loyalty... or to love.

Sujets

Young Adult Fiction

Fantasy

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Publié par	Markosia Enterprises Ltd
Date de parution	05 août 2020
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781913359997
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	3 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0350€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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THOMAS JOHN HOWARD BOGGIS

The Hirono Chronicles: Meera TM & © ٢٠٢٠ Thomas John Howard Boggis & Markosia Enterprises, Ltd. All Rights Reserved. Reproduction of any part of this work by any means without the written permission of the publisher is expressly forbidden. All names, characters and events in this publication are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental. Published by Markosia Enterprises, PO BOX 3477, Barnet, Hertfordshire, EN5 9HN.
FIRST PRINTING, September 2020.
Harry Markos, Director.
Paperback: ISBN 978-1-913359-98-0
eBook: ISBN 978-1-913359-99-7
Book design by: Ian Sharman
Cover art and world map by: Mark Gerrard
Editor: Stephen Davis
www.markosia.com
First Edition
“To my mum and dad for their endless love and support, my brothers, sister, brother-in-law and nephews for always being there and my dog Dodge for just being him.”

PROLOGUE
I remember the first battle as though I had been there myself. It was described to me so vividly that I still dream of it at night. In my dreams I stand beside them, comrades in arms, and fight against the barbarians; fight against hatred and cruelty and malice… and greed.
Innumerable bonfires blazed in the semi-darkness along the undulating hillsides like shooting stars fallen to earth, the flames swaying in a chill westerly wind. Shjin Kitano surveyed them dispassionately as he strode up and down the serried ranks of Kurai warriors who stood tall and proud, longbows or spears clutched tightly in their hands, their eyes fixed on the flickering pools of flame.
Shjin came to a stop and turned his head to look out eastward across the dark flatland of the Hirono domain. The sky overhead was a furnace of colour and the jagged teeth of the mountains bit into the horizon. A bad omen some would say, but for who?
A rugged-looking man in his late thirties, Shjin was a formidable warrior, his somewhat slight size belying his true strength. His hair hung loose around his shoulders and his stubbly jaws tensed as his teeth clenched together. Beneath his red leather breastplate, which was embossed with a curious crest, he wore a faded scarlet kimono and around his waist he wore a kilt of plated steel buckled in place with a studded belt of black leather. A pair of gauntlets covered his wrists, plated too with high-polished steel that bore many intricate designs and symbols. At his left side two swords hung horizontally from his belt, their black scabbards gleaming dully.
Shjin turned slowly on the spot and headed back down the line, surveying each man as he passed. Their attire was not dissimilar to his own, although many of the warriors had personalised their armour with engravings of their family crests.
Even though Shjin was an officer he did not dress differently from the ordinary foot soldiers. Even as he was promoted up through the ranks he continued to dress as they did and it was this air of humility that commanded the respect of his men.
Upon reaching the end of the line Shjin stopped and raised his head. He sniffed the air and his grip tightened on the handle of the sword sheathed at his side. Turning to a man standing near him he spoke in an undertone so that none but his friend could hear.
‘I can smell the filth, Tay; they’re standing in the darkness behind the fires, biding their time, waiting for the sun to rise high enough and blind us before they attack.’ Tay Asaki squinted his eyes and peered into the darkness, then nodded silently in agreement with Shjin.
A ripple spread through the ranks of Kurai warriors as each one tensed suddenly, grasping their weapons tighter and listening intently. It was then that Shjin heard it too. Ahead of them, in the pool of shadow behind the fires, a faint sound could be heard, its volume increasing with every second.
Clack! Clack! Clack!
‘They’re getting ready to attack,’ Tay whispered to Shjin. ‘We must move now before they have the sun to their advantage.’ Grabbing a helmet from the floor, Shjin strapped it on to his head and raised a flag to signal a man at the other end of the line who raised his flag in response. Slowly, the Kurai warriors began to advance across the darkened flatlands, their weapons held high and the archers notching arrows to bow strings.
Clack! Clack! Clack! Clack!
The chilling sound filled the air for miles around, its intensity nearing fever pitch. When the ranks of advancing warriors were halfway toward the blazing fires, they began to notice dark shapes emerging ahead of them to stand silhouetted against the flames. Raising a flag, Shjin drew his warriors to a halt in a shallow dip in the landscape. The shadowy figures had their weapons raised high and were beating them against their helmeted heads to create their ominous build up to battle, their faces taut with pain.
Suddenly, every one of them lowered their weapons as though at a signal and an intense silence fell across the flatlands. The silence lasted only momentarily as a hulking figure stepped forward into the firelight and levelled his weapon at the Kurai warriors. His face appeared hideously distorted; the barbaric features surmounted by a helmet with two large spikes at its top. The man’s voice rang out across the flatlands as he screamed a single word in a harsh, guttural language:
‘Geikou!’
‘Down! Everybody down!’ Shjin screamed at his men. The Kurai army barely had chance to move as flaming arrows rained out of the sky, thudding into the earth all around them, many shafts extinguishing their flames in the flesh of men. Shjin was the first one up, his sword raised high above his head, roaring at his men to attack.
Together, the Kurai warriors surged across the flatlands as the sun appeared fully above the distant mountains, dispelling the last of the darkness. Running almost blindly now, the warriors rushed onwards, the blood thumping through their veins. Beside him, Shjin watched as an arrow took a comrade through the eye; watched as his body crumpled limply to the earth and rolled to a stop in the damp grass.
The two sides clashed then, steel ringing on steel, the awful sound of combat tearing out across the flats. Hacking and slashing with fierce energy, Shjin cut a swathe through his enemies, their blood mingling with the dew on the grass. An arrow thudded into his shoulder and he sank to his knees, his body heaving with exertion as the battle raged all around him. Tugging the arrow out, Shjin’s face split into a wolfish grin. Getting quickly to his feet he threw himself back into the fray as the shadows diminished and the sun climbed ever higher in the morning sky.

CHAPTER ONE
As the battle raged and men fought and died, far away, deep within the mountains, my friend Kamari was in trouble. When he later recounted the events of his journey, he had difficulty doing so, and now… so do I. But I will do my best to relay his story exactly as he described it.
Driving snow obscured their vision and an icy wind whistled past their numb faces as they struggled blindly through the snow, their leaden limbs slowing them down. They had become hopelessly lost when the snow hit as they were trying to cross the mountains but, as hope dwindled, they knew they had no choice but to continue. With their strength waning they searched fruitlessly for a shelter against the elements but none was forthcoming and so they continued on; three dark smudges against a pure white canvas.
The small family huddled together as they moved; trying to retain what little body heat they had. The figure standing at their centre was a stocky boy, a little over fifteen winters old. His shoulder length dark hair whipped around his face as he looked at the person to his left and said, through chattering teeth:
‘We must be nearly across by now, Mama.’ His mother looked over at the boy’s father, her aging face stricken with worry, and saw the same look on her husband’s face. She hugged her son tighter and replied with an enthusiasm she did not feel:
‘Yes, I’m sure we are, Kamari.’
For many hours they trudged onward through the snow and as night fell visibility dramatically lessened and the temperature plummeted still further.
Kamari noticed his mother beginning to lag behind and clutched her hand to pull her close. Her fingers felt like ice as their hands locked together. Kamari’s father saw that his wife was in trouble and rushed over to her. Her breath was coming in short, sharp bursts but she managed to gasp out:
‘I need to… I need to stop, just for a moment.’ They stopped dead, the snow already past their knees, and hunkered down together. His parents hugged each other close and Kamari found himself locked between them in a tight embrace.
He could not say how long they stayed there as the snow built up around them, for time no longer had any meaning for Kamari in that blank and featureless landscape. Sleep began to overtake him and he found it hard to resist the temptation to slip into its welcome darkness, but in these freezing temperatures he knew it would be death to do so.
But soon he could no longer fight it; his eyelids were like lead weights and he felt himself slipping away. A noise to his left brought him back to consciousness and he realised that someone was close by.
‘Mama, Papa, someone’s here,’ he croaked as a shadow fell over him. He felt his parents’ grip on his body lessen and as it did darkness enveloped him and he felt the cold no longer.

CHAPTER TWO
In my bed, a world away from vicious battles and freezing mountaintops, I lay quiet and still, alone with my thoughts.
The room swam before my bleary gaze, my eyes red rimmed and stinging, as I dozily surveyed the area around me for the umpteenth time. The wooden walls and floor creaked occasionally as someone in the house