Shameless Plug :)
Hi all,
Afraid I have to make a shameless plug for a book that has just been published by a member of my family...
UK Residents can get it here:
http://www.amazon.co.uk/exec/obidos/...224137-5288435
US Residents here:
http://www.authorhouse.com/BookStore...ocl%252b0%253d
Appologies to other countries, I don't know ifthe publisher has released it anywhere else...
ISBN to get it from your local bookstore:
1420810898
If anyone has any comments or suggestions I am in a position to relay them to the Author. If you buy it and like it and want it signed I can arrange this also (assuming you pay postage of course [:P])
Excerpt from the book:
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Vtornik looked out across the plains below. He stood in the mouth of a cave high up on the western side of the mountains of Sparak Th?ur. The warm, late summer breeze brought to his nostrils the musty odour of the pine forests far below. He closed his eyes, and breathed deeply of the scent. He re-opened his eyes and stared into the distance. With practiced ease, he let his mind slip. The familiar feeling of sudden and violent acceleration washed over him, the world around him lost it?s perspective and became a blur. After several seconds, the sensation stopped, and the world reformed. The city of Krask lay before and below him.
Krask, sometimes called ?the city without walls? basked under the warm morning sun. Isolated in the middle of the vast plains of Allinor. The Broadwater river lay six miles to the west, and beyond almost three hundred miles of dusty plains, ending in great cliffs at the edge of the sea. Huge volcanic reefs lurked below the surface of the ocean, making the western coast un navigable by ship. The river?s slow, crawling waters wound six hundred miles to Teranne, the nearest city to the south, where they emptied into the sea.
Two hundred miles to the east rose the great mountains of Sparak Th?ur. To the north, a thousand miles of dry plains, gradually turning to snow fields and eventually the great ice mountains of the black crown.
Villages and farms dotted the now verdant fields to the south and west. Former dwellers of the city, making homes and raising families on the plains that were once dry and dusty. The swelling of the river in the last thirty years or more and the great programme of irrigation that was possible as a result had brought great prosperity to the city and it?s merchants. Formerly they had been middlemen in the trade of furs and stone brought from the north by the wandering barbarian tribes, and they had traded these for food from the south. Now the roles were reversed, trade with the southern city of Terranne, whose population swelled with the migration of refugees from the clan wars in the south, in grain and live stock grown and raised around Krask had blossomed over the years, and the merchants of Krask had grown fat and rich from the proceeds.
But the warming climate and the resultant melting of the snows to the north had not benefited all that dwelt in Allinor.
The citizens of Krask were going about their business as usual, blissfully unaware of the approaching hoard.
Several hours passed and the figure of Vtornik stood unmoving and watchful, leaning on his long ebony staff.
Dust appeared on the horizon, and within a few short minutes, the shapes of the van of the approaching host could be seen. Huge men, heavily cloaked in furs, and armoured in leather and metal, dusty and weary from the march.
The rumbling sound of many feet, the hooves of huge bison and the iron shod wheels of the wooden carts they drew, carried across the remaining distance to the outskirts of the city. They stopped little more than half a mile from the city, and began to make camp. Tents of animal skins were erected, and cooking fires lit in their hundreds.
Their approach had been watched by a few of the shepherds and herders bringing their livestock in from the fields to the west of the city, to the butchering houses in the northern warehouse area. The end of summer brought regular visits from the fur and stone traders from the north each year, asking for food for the winter. A few of the younger herders sauntered toward the nearest camps, waving in greeting.
As they approached, they were greeted by shouts and jeers from men picking up axes and swords and turning to meet them. They stopped, unaccustomed to, and apprehensive of such alien and aggressive behaviour. The barbarians were usually friendly and good humoured, hungry and in need of food. Begging the people of Krask for any grain and livestock that they could spare.
Not so these. They looked well fed, well organised, and unfriendly.
An axe was hurled from one of the camps, catching one young herder squarely in the chest, burying one of it?s cruelly curved blades to the haft, and knocking him from his feet. The others turned and ran, leaving him bleeding in the dust.
Laughter followed them back to the city.
Vtornik let out a sigh and shook his head slowly ?The turning of this page in history will be all but pleasant?, he muttered to himself. He lowered his eyes, and let his spirit return to his body. With a last glance out over the plains, he turned and walked back into the cave, and had there been anyone to watch, they would have seen him slowly fade from sight as he entered.
Originally Posted by Demelza Flameclaw
