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140 pages

English

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The year is 1022 second Era - the 254th sun of Sathram's Dawn. It is a time before the rule of Dragons and the corruption of humankind.It is a war-torn world which forces the council of Primes to seek the help of three very special teenagers - Rygar, Taliea and Velentus. They soon find themselves on a journey to recover an ancient relic on the other side of Eerea, a world filled with limitless power, incorrigible treachery and characters of the highest order.Requiem of the Forgotten is the first instalment in The Dreadmore Saga.

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Fantasy

Fantasy (canción de Mariah Carey)

Informations

Publié par	Andrews UK
Date de parution	31 octobre 2016
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781785384462
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	1 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0150€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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The Dreadmore Saga
Requiem of the Forgotten
A.A. Walker

First published in 2016 by
AG Books
www.agbooks.co.uk
Digital edition converted and distributed by
Andrews UK Limited
www.andrewsuk.com
© Copyright 2016 A.A. Walker
The right of A.A. Walker to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1998.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. Any person who does so may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Acknowledgements
Audience
To you, the readers of this first part of the Dreadmore Saga, I thank you for the love and support you are showing. To all of you that are constantly supporting me and becoming more enveloped in the world that is Eerea , I love and appreciate you. You are the best!
Arsheesh
My second acknowledgment goes to the creditable and talented Arsheesh from DeviantArt. His beautiful depiction of a world gave birth to what is now known as Balmora. Much respect and gratification goes to Arsheesh.
Kelvin S. Willingham
My third acknowledgement goes to a very talented young man who just happens to be my best friend and illustrator. This is to Kelvin S. Willingham. His art has brought my creatures more to life than I could have ever anticipated. Much respect towards his contributions.
Darin Jewell
To my literary agent who took the chance on me because he believed in my work and has done an awesome job thus far. I am hoping for nothing but more positive things in our future of working together.

Dedication
To my mother...
My first dedication goes to my baby sister, Lakenya. She has always and will forever be one of my biggest supporters. By critiquing my work, giving feedback, whether good or bad, she helps by giving me the inspiration to keep writing.
My second dedication goes to Chris J for spearheading and successfully running social media for all things Balmora. With his help, the land of full of Uundii, wraiths, giants and bloodhounds is becoming more known.
My third dedication goes to my brit mate, Ian. Half way around the world, he has shown none-stop support and has spreaded the word The Dreadmore Saga around the UK. His support means the world.
My fourth dedication goes to my great friend/little brother, Brey Hinton. He has been a fan of my work since the beginning and his unwavering devotion to the things I write is beyond appreciated. I couldn’t have asked for a better supporter and friend.

Prologue
Ages long since passed, dwelt Eerea, a world lay covered in irrecoverable devastation and anguish. But I fear to understand this world presently, one must understand its past and history has always been the key to understanding that past.
The history of our people is based on the vanquishing of a darkness that consumed our world with wrath and ruin. In the many years that followed, the lands became known as Balmora.
Filled with an array of species and creatures, Balmora was a cluster of diversity. It was, in fact, the largest of the five islands of Eerea . Amongst its lesser land counterparts, Balmora sat centered between the remaining four landmasses.
Peace had undeniably graced our lands with its presence for many moons but we have not always known such blissful peace.
Not long ago, amidst the Dawn of Umbra, in a time of war and death, a bragorim known as Mordeus waged a dark and unrelenting war against those he sought to conquer.
Mordeus was hell-bent on the destruction of Balmora and the enslavement of its people. His horrid legions of followers were those of the hellish descent.
Banshees, Uundii, Argots, hobgoblins, Raza, and bloodhounds alike all beckoned at his call. Of his followers, none were more so feared than the Unhallowed Order - a spineless collective of putrid necromancers. They alone were the generals of his army. With their help, Mordeus laid waste to towns and cities in a matter of days. In doing so, they replenished their ranks by the thousands, resurrecting the corpses of those slain in battle.
The Magelentic Council, the joint forces of the twelve primes of Balmora, sought to put an end to Mordeus’ unscrupulous reign. A preemptive strike to salvage their homeland, led by Urien, leader of the Jadari warriors and the prime of Skystead, held back the forces of Dreadmore. But even that wasn’t enough to protect his people.
In the wake of what would have been Mordeus’ sure victory, an unforeseen turn of events transpired. Mordeus, leader of the Dreadmore Army, was betrayed. He was struck down by those who he relied on the most - his generals. Together, they sealed Mordeus’ body, using sanguine conjus, in what was the ruins of the Arid Mountains.
With his demise, the order, themselves, vanished. There are those who believe they fled in fear of Kydesis and Kydain - the dark gods to whom they prayed to for the gift of immortality.
Since Alavus Tal-na, Balmora and all of Eerea have come to know peace. It is, however a peace I, and others like me, fear will soon come to an end. I fear we must prepare for a storm - a storm the likes of which we have never seen or will ever see again. A final war will be waged between those who seek to heal this world and those who seek only its destruction. This will be the beginning of the end to all we have come to know.
I only pray that when the time comes, that we will be strong enough...
Romulus
Dawn of Sathram
Balmora’s Historical Archives

Darkwell
Isle of Sha’grim
Fading Woods Tavern
In one of the most northern regions of Balmora was the Isle of Sha’grim - a cold, barren shadow of a place of which nothing really strived except for the occasional looting. The combination of constant rain and never ending cold created a permanent, frozen, muddy surface that was unsuited for the growing of crops. The town itself was based behind the Lone Druid Mountain range, one of the largest and oldest. It shadowed the land from the sun’s rays for majority of the year - a perpetual darkness - giving the town the name of Darkwell.
Since Alavus Tal-na, the town had been but a shell of its former self. It was a once proud, lucrative town of trade and barter but now it barely prospered.
In the southern part of the town, just beyond the House of Herbs, was the Fading Woods Tavern. It remained the last place in Darkwell to find a good pint of mead or to relive the days before the war.
The barkeep was a tender, older gentleman who had seen his fair share of death and pain. The tavern had been in his family since his father’s father.
His name was Uthus. He stood at about six feet. His hair was all shades of white. His hands were dirty and full of calluses, proving that he was no stranger to hard work. His skin, the one thing that revealed his age, hung on by the sheer will of determination.
A few of the constant regulars sat in the tavern, like normal, engaged in bar talk. Seven men were present inside of the small room. They all were overweight and dirty from working at the base of the mountains. They were among the last few miners of the town. The straggly man that was nearly drunk began to engage Uthus.
“You know something, Uthus?”
Uthus responded as he steadily wiped the dust from the countertops.
“What’s that?”
“Darkwell is nothing anymore,” he shouted. “We are just sitting here, waiting to die, while the rest of the world moves on without us.”
The man that was speaking hailed from one of the founding families of Darkwell. He had lived in the town since birth. He had seen it through its glory days when it was the center of the north and through its dwindling demise after the war.
“There is still a chance for Darkwell. We have seen worse I believe,” Uthus replied.
“How can you remain so optimistic? We have nothing. Alavus Tal-na destroyed us. That filthy bragorim should have set this place ablaze during that war. At least we wouldn’t be struggling as we are now.”
The other men in the tavern with the exception of one decided to join in the conversation regarding the survival of the town. They rushed to the bar to be closer to the other men. The quiet stranger who reframed from moving was stationed in the far corner of the tavern near the only window. His face remained hidden as he was veiled behind a hood and cloak.
“We’re at it again I see,” spoke one of the miners.
“Horvak is going on about the town as usual. Have you had too much to drink, Horvak?” asked the tallest of the group.
One of the men turned from the discussion and hinted to the distant foreigner.
“What say you, lad? What do you have to say about Darkwell?”
The stranger said nothing. He turned his head to look out of the window at the rain that relentlessly fell. Uthus continued to pour each man at the bar rounds of his famous mead as they continued their vigorous banter.
“I say no more mead for Horvak. I think he’s had enough.”
“I say that it was the Jadari’s fault,” continued Horvak, nearly spilling his drink.
“How could it have been their fault?” asked Uthus.
“Had they acted sooner, none of this would have happened.”
“There was nothing they could have done. By the time any of us knew anything, Mordeus’ army was already u