Excerpt -The
Aduramis Chronicles: Destiny of the Wulf
The scene of devastation outside the temple grounds left a lump in the throat, and rent the hearts of onlookers. The sheer destruction of the once beautiful grounds outside the temple brought a tear to many an eye and fuelled anger in others.
Amidst campfires,
thousands of goblins, overshadowed by four giants, prepared for battle. Ancient
trees had been uprooted and honed into clubs by the handful of giants. They
drove huge iron spikes into the ends and tested the lethality of each.
On the front line,
goblin chiefs and shaman leaders issued orders to the rabble before them, their
orb staffs glowing multitudes of colors. They were a deadly force, yet
disorganized, and that was often their downfall. The old adage, ‘Too many
cooks...’ applied to their military leadership, but thousands had amassed,
alongside several mountain trolls and the giants, and this was an unusual
occurrence.
The invaders had
formed a huge semicircle in front of the temple gates, and the roar of the
horde deafened all in its vicinity. Several crude animal horns added to the
noise, and psyched the goblin army for war.
On the temple side
of the gates, several battlemages stood deep in concentration, keeping an
enchantment upon the gates, which was at present the only thing that kept the
attackers at bay. These few men and women after years of study and discipline
provided the primary protection for the order.
The archmage and
curator, alongside a dozen permitted mages, were the only others capable of
tapping into the elemental forces in this manner, but their actions drained the
mind and body and the effects were often only temporary. These skills were used
only in times of dire need, and in this instance, to allow the gathered troops
to make ready.
A dozen goblins lay
dead at the foot of the huge gates. Every so often a chieftain would send an
unwilling volunteer to approach them. As the volunteer grasped its bars, a
purple flash emitted from the metal. The goblin would spasm, endure heart
failure, and froth at the mouth, to then drop dead.
Curator Menin had
changed her clothing; she looked magnificent in steel and white. A red sash ran
left to right across her chest, emblazoned with the temple’s emblem. She wore
the Rose of Cerathil proudly upon her chest and a sword dangled at her side.
Strapped to her left arm was a shaped steel shield with sharpened edges. She
limped from her study onto a balcony that overlooked the battlefield. Her
closest aides and generals followed and took position beside her. To their left
stood a grand stone table with a rough map of the area, and carved figures
represented the combatants below.
Menin surveyed her
troops. “Lieutenant General Torith, I think the left flank is weak.” Her lips
pursed.
Lieutenant General
Torith looked up from his map, scanned his men and nodded with a grunt. He
called a runner to him. “Send word to Captain Dalbo to move his men to the
vineyard.”
The runner saluted
and took off at full pelt. Torith turned to Menin. “My apologies, it will not
happen again.” He bowed respectfully.
“See that it does
not,” said General Jericho tersely.
Torith returned to
his map and altered his figurines to match his order.
“He’s not himself of
late,” said Jericho quietly.
“His wife nearly lost their first child during his birth. I think we can go easy on him,” replied Menin. “Would you find and fetch Coinin for me?”
“His wife nearly lost their first child during his birth. I think we can go easy on him,” replied Menin. “Would you find and fetch Coinin for me?”
“You want me to
leave, now? I could send one of my men.”
“No, I don’t trust anyone else with his safety.”
“Very well, just don’t start without me.” Jericho turned and left the balcony.
“No, I don’t trust anyone else with his safety.”
“Very well, just don’t start without me.” Jericho turned and left the balcony.
About the Author-
Harrison Davies
(1973 - ) was born in Hartlepool in the United Kingdom. He now resides in
Newcastle upon Tyne in the North of England. His passions include the written
word, visual media such as indie filmmaking, and photography.He lives with his long time partner, Staffordshire Bull Terrier named Patch, and an African Grey Parrot called Oliver. Harrison completed his second book in early 2012.
To quote thyself: "It is far easier to launch oneself from a high place in the hope of sprouting wings and taking flight, than it is to write a book. Yet once you've mastered it, you will be soaring higher than the birds." -Harrison Davies 2012.
Be Sure to Check out his Awesome Book!