Rune Warriors
The Klendoran Chronicles Book One
by
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The roar came again, louder and more thunderous, making many involuntarily cover their ears. Rocks tumbled down the mountainside, triggering several small slides, some of which pounded their defences. Abiel looked towards the mountains again, to see a gigantic creature emerging, with black skin that seemed to writhe and squirm as the creature roared yet again. He recognized the beast instantly, although he had never seen it before, except in the paintings inside the crypt, which were now believed to be a myth. This foul creature was known as a Draknor, Night-Bringer in the modern tongue, an ancient mythical beast, or so they had thought. He remembered the stories of the death and chaos this creature had brought to their lands many generations ago, now used as nothing more than something to threaten children with: If you don’t do as you’re told the Draknor will come for you in your sleep. Even the children giggled at the good-natured way it was normally said. Abiel doubted that when the day was through anyone would be able to mention the creature and laugh ever again. Abiel looked intently towards the beast. Legend told that it was accompanied by a horde of hideous creatures, looking like some kind of warped interbreeding between the powerful mountain cats and some huge canine, with large razor sharp claws on their front paws and two thick, long teeth. A creature so hideous that the ancients had failed to give them a name, or if they had it was long since forgotten. As far as Abiel was aware they were simply named Companions, Feyhalas in the old tongue. The Feyhalas were curiously absent. Abiel then looked to the warriors, who also knew the legends of the Draknor. The warriors were looking for the same thing he was. As the creature approached, Fulk walked up the short steps to Abiel. “I can’t quite believe what I’m seeing. I thought such creatures were gone from this world, if they ever truly existed. The only problem is, where are the Companions of that thing?” With a slight shrug of his shoulders Abiel replied, “I don’t know. Hopefully they are dead.” Fulk sighed deeply. “I hope you are right, Abiel. Fighting that thing alone will be bad enough.” Abiel turned to look at the creature: it had stopped roaring again. The beast was close enough now to see it properly, and the smell was strong enough to make more than a few people nauseous. The creature wasn’t a lot to look at, a bit like a gigantic mammoth, with sleek black, writhing skin and no trunk. Then suddenly the skin seemed to shimmer and move violently, before it dropped to the ground, quickly spreading out and heading towards them. Realization struck Abiel: the Feyhalas didn’t accompany the Draknor; it carried them. He looked beyond the speeding, writhing mass at the Draknor, which appeared almost pitiful now. Its real skin was covered in scars, wounds and dried blood. Abiel forced his gaze away to focus on the more immediate threat, the horde of Feyhalas, which were rapidly approaching, powerful hind legs pushing them forward in long bounds. He closed his eyes, said a little prayer, and prepared to fight.
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About the Book
The people of Lokas village, in the land of Gravick, have been at war with their neighbors for generations. Just when peace seems to be finally settling over them they are once again under attack, from an enemy long considered myth. Shatala, the power hungry empress of Zutar, will stop at nothing to bring Gravick and other rebellious lands back under her empire’s rule. After striking a deal with the Circle of Five, a powerful group of mages, she can finally see her plans coming to fruition. For Lars, son of the greatest Lokan warrior, his world is about to change in ways he can not yet understand. This new threat is just one of many that are coming to his people, and is more powerful than he can possibly imagine. Towns and cities are destroyed, their people slaughtered and scattered, blood running freely in the streets. For Lars and his people, considered primitive by many, time is short.
About the Author
Keith Jones was born in April 1969, and raised in Stockton-on-Tees, England, until the age of 18, when he joined the British Army as a heavy vehicle mechanic. After leaving the army he moved to Canada and continues as a mechanic to the present day. Having tried to write books since the age of 10, the first book to be completed was Rune Warriors, the first part of a trilogy. This remained unpublished for many years and in the interim Sky-Water Blue, a stand alone novel, was finished and published through Authorhouse. The second book in the trilogy is now finished and the third up to a stage where Rune Warriors could be published without any fear of needing to return and make changes. With several other books also in the works the same writing style used in Sky-Water Blue is continued, refusing to tame down descriptions of all events to prevent causing offence, believing firmly if a story is to be told accurately it has to be presented in a ‘warts and all’ manner. Battles are a bloody in war and there is no such thing as a glorious death. Heroes can die as easily as any other. Life and death are not to be glossed over and the stories of this author certainly aren’t.