Stormwielder - Prologue
For five hundred years the Gods have united the Three Lands in harmony. Now that balance has been shattered, and chaos threatens.
The Sword of Light is an original fantasy novel, packed with gods, dragons and magic. Leap into an epic adventure as a young man cursed with terrible power must master his abilities in order to save the world. You can find my other books on my website.
For five hundred years the Gods have united the Three Lands in harmony. Now that balance has been shattered, and chaos threatens.
A town burns and flames light the night sky. Hunted and alone, seventeen year old Eric flees through the wreckage. The mob grows closer, baying for the blood of their tormentor. Guilt weighs on his soul, but he cannot stop, cannot turn back. If he stops, they die.
For two years he has carried this curse, bringing death and destruction wherever he goes. But now there is another searching for him – one who offers salvation. His name is Alastair, and he knows the true nature of the curse. Magic.
Become a paid subscriber to access this entire series from the start, plus many of the other series I have written! You can even take a free 7 day trial to see if my books are for you.
Alastair sat alone in the darkness, staring at the flickering fire. Holding out his arms, he let its heat wash through his rain-sodden cloak. The autumn storm had caught him in the open, drenching him to the skin before he could guide his horse to shelter in the nearby trees.
The rumble of distant thunder echoed through the night, and shivering, Alastair shifted closer to the flames. He stifled a groan as his old joints cracked with the movement.
Adding a fresh stick to the blaze, Alastair watched the greedy tongues of flame lick along its length. Wind rustled in the dark branches overhead and the fire flickered, its feeble light casting long shadows across the tiny clearing.
A head appeared between the nearby trees, its long face stretching out towards him. Alastair’s heart clenched and he reached for his sword, before he realised it was only his horse, Elcano. Snickering, his mount shook its head and retreated into the shadows.
Shivering, Alastair released his sword hilt and cursed himself for a fool. He knew all too well the dangers of the night, the creatures that stalked the shadows of the Three Nations. Once he had been one to stand against such things. Now though...
He shook his head, forcing away the morbid thoughts. He was still a warrior; his name was feared by the beasts of the dark.
But he could not dismiss the whispers of his own doubt. It had been decades since he’d last fought the good fight, and the long years between had stripped him of his strength. The old man shivering at autumn shadows was a spectre, a ghost of the Alastair that had once battled the demons of winter.
And now the demons had returned.
“If only,” he whispered to the cold night. The words carried with them the weight of regret, the sorrow of wasted decades.
If only he had known.
If only he had prepared himself.
Instead, the great Alastair had settled down and put the dark days behind him. And in his absence, the dark things had come creeping back. Now their shadow stretched across the Three Nations, threatening to shatter the fragile peace he had worked his whole life to build.
It was only when Antonia had come to him that he’d realised his folly. Her reappearance had shattered the dreamworld he’d wrapped around himself, had dragged him back to a life he’d thought long buried.
“Find them,” she’d ordered, and he had obeyed.
Yet things never were simple when she was involved. For two years now Alastair had searched, seeking out the family he had helped to hide so long ago. But the trail was ancient, and his quarry had long since perfected the skills he’d taught them.
He had tracked them as far as Peakill before the line vanished. For all he knew, they were all gone. He prayed to Antonia it was not so.
The wind died away and the chirp of crickets rose above the whisper of the trees. The fire popped as a log collapsed, scattering sparks across the ground. He watched them slowly dwindle to nothing and then looked up at the dark canopy. Through the branches, he glimpsed the brilliance of the full moon.
Alastair gritted his teeth. She would come tonight. His hands shook as a sick dread rose in his throat. The world would feel the consequences of his failure.
“Not yet, there is still time,” the soft whisper of a girl’s voice came from the shadows.
Antonia walked from the trees. A veil of mist clung to her small frame, obscuring her features. But her violet eyes shone through the darkness, the firelight pale by comparison. Those eyes held such power, such resolve, that Alastair shrank before them. The scent of roses filled the grove, cleansing the smoky air as she strode towards him.
“It doesn’t matter. They’re gone, and I’m not strong enough to continue. Find someone else to fight this battle, I’m done!” He lowered his gaze, unable to meet her eyes.
“There is no one else. You were there at the beginning—now you must see it through to the end.” Her voice shook with anger. “Look at me, and tell me you would abandon everything we have worked for!”
Alastair’s head jerked up. “I abandoned my family for your cause,” he ground out the words. “I have sacrificed everything for you! What more do you want? It’s over, they’re gone.”
He stared at Antonia, expecting anger, scorn, disappointment. She smiled. “It’s not over, Alastair. There is still hope. Elynbrigge has found them.”
The breath caught in Alastair’s throat as he stared at the Goddess. “Where?” he choked.
Antonia laughed, the sound like raindrops dancing on water. “The trail was old, but they are alive and well in Chole. You will find them there. He will watch over them until you arrive.”
Alastair leapt to his feet, scattering firewood into the flames. The blaze roared, leaping to devour the fresh meal. He ignored it. The fire be damned, they were alive!
“Wait.” Antonia’s tone gave him pause. “First, you must go to Oaksville. There is someone there who needs you. When you find him, take him with you. Be quick; Archon won’t be far behind.”
“Who is in Oaksville?” The town was close, but the detour would cost precious time.
“Eric.”
Before he could question her further, she was gone.
For a long time, Alastair stood staring at the space where she had stood. Her words trickled through his thoughts, banishing his guilt, his anguish. In their place, a fragile spark of hope lit the darkness.
He didn’t sleep that night. Instead, he mounted his horse and rode through the darkness, into the dawn. As the sun rose into the sky and drifted towards noon, he topped a rise and looked down on Oaksville.
The town lay nestled in the crook of a valley. Sickly pillars of smoke curled up from behind its walls, obscuring the rooftops.
Alastair kicked Elcano into a gallop.
Become a paid subscriber to access this entire series from the start, plus many of the other series I have written! You can even take a free 7 day trial to see if my books are for you.