This fast paced fantasy novel describes the adventures of an unlikely hero, who stumbles into a great destiny that will change the fates of many.
In a harsh world, this young man and his motley group of friends brave dungeons, defy kings and fight sinister magicians. Togther they seek to unravel a lost myth hidden in ancient ruins, a three thousand year old cipher that hodes the darkest secret of the Dwarven race and the keys to unimaginable power and treasure.
If only they can survive...
They Fear Me!
The city guards narrowed in on Ganzario, who stood frozen, feeling betrayed and alone.
He lifted his arms to surrender.
"Don't move and keep your mouth shut, sorcerer!" A desperate voice bellowed from the crowd.
It was only then Ganzario noticed the fear in the man's voice and in all of the faces staring at him. He was shocked. They fear me! He suddenly felt like smiling. A horde of professional soldiers, all so strong, all towering over him, encased in armour with bared blades and taut bows, and they were afraid of him: Ganzario the runt. A rush of blood and a sudden feeling of power surged through his veins. It felt amazing. He wanted more. More! What does it matter if I die now, to feel like this it will be worth it. Burn them all!
He relaxed and flashed a black smile at the crowd, who moaned and raised their crossbows even higher. Slowly they inched towards him like vultures cowardly closing on their prey, knowing it was not dead yet and could bite them still.
Oblivious to Ghostly Shadows
It was a vast chamber that stretched out into the distance almost beyond sight. Through the hazy air that smelt pleasantly of beeswax and scented lamp oil, Ganzario stared awestruck at what seemed to be millions of flickering candles that bathed every inch of the immense room in a soft golden light. He'd never seen anything so beautiful. The walls were magically carved from one piece of amber sandstone, which gave the impression that the room was formed naturally, the golden red reflection of its surface only broken by enormous stained-glass windows of brilliantly coloured scenes and images from the Towers' history. Even the floor they walked on was an intricate mosaic of polished soapstone, with hypnotic symbols engraved into every tile. Spread over large areas of the hall were rugs of many different colours, sizes and patterns, each dressed with a multitude of plush cushions that supported clusters of students meditating or franticly devouring books, obviously trying to memorise their contents.
Ganzario preferred to stay quiet and breathe in the atmosphere of the hall. After a while, once his initial excitement had worn off and his mind quietened, he began to sense a strange connection to the room; a deep sense of its history. It was as though he could feel the presence of every person who had ever passed the test.