What Dreams May Come
178 pages
English

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178 pages
English

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Description

What Dreams May Come is the story of Troilus, the grandson of Kalliste, whose tale is told in the first book of the series, None So Blind. Troilus watches helplessly as his home town is razed to the ground and everyone he loves senselessly slaughtered. The trauma sweeps all traces of sympathy and remorse from his makeup. Only revenge drives him, as he finds himself caught up in the bloody turmoil of rebellion. It is a long way back.The series is set in an Empire which is presently ruled by a cruel and powerful Emperor. It is an imaginary world based loosely on a Classical Greek milieu, though transported to a northern temperate zone and with women playing a much more independent role than in Classical antiquity.The land of Gea is largely an ethnic, linguistic and cultural unity, though not a political one. Its history has been one of intermittent warfare between its fifteen independent states and with the surrounding countries. However, for the last quarter of a century, the inexorable rise of Troia, the largest and richest of the states, has welded the rest, now provinces, into a formidable Empire. An Empire presently ruled by a cruel and powerful Emperor.

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Publié par
Date de parution 18 janvier 2020
Nombre de lectures 0
EAN13 9781838598051
Langue English
Poids de l'ouvrage 2 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0200€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

Copyright © 2020 Xenon

The moral right of the author has been asserted.


Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.


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ISBN 9781838598051

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.


Matador® is an imprint of Troubador Publishing Ltd

For Jenny, as always.
And for John.
Contents
Introduction

ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FIVE
TWENTY-SIX
TWENTY-SEVEN
TWENTY-EIGHT
TWENTY-NINE
THIRTY
THIRTY-ONE
THIRTY-TWO
THIRTY-THREE
THIRTY-FOUR
THIRTY-FIVE
THIRTY-SIX
THIRTY-SEVEN
THIRTY-EIGHT
THIRTY-NINE
FORTY
FORTY-ONE
FORTY-TWO
FORTY-THREE
FORTY-FOUR
FORTY-FIVE
FORTY-SIX
FORTY-SEVEN
FORTY-EIGHT
FORTY-NINE
FIFTY
FIFTY-ONE
FIFTY-TWO
FIFTY-THREE
FIFTY-FOUR
FIFTY-FIVE
FIFTY-SIX
FIFTY-SEVEN
FIFTY-EIGHT
FIFTY-NINE
SIXTY
SIXTY-ONE
SIXTY-TWO
SIXTY-THREE
SIXTY-FOUR
SIXTY-FIVE
SIXTY-SIX
SIXTY-SEVEN
SIXTY-EIGHT
SIXTY-NINE
SEVENTY
SEVENTY-ONE
SEVENTY-TWO
SEVENTY-THREE
SEVENTY-FOUR
SEVENTY-FIVE
SEVENTY-SIX
SEVENTY-SEVEN
SEVENTY-EIGHT
SEVENTY-NINE
EIGHTY
EIGHTY-ONE
EIGHTY-TWO
EIGHTY-THREE
EIGHTY-FOUR
EIGHTY-FIVE
EIGHTY-SIX
EIGHTY-SEVEN
EIGHTY-EIGHT
EIGHTY-NINE
NINETY
NINETY-ONE
NINETY-TWO
NINETY-THREE
NINETY-FOUR
NINETY-FIVE

Afterword
Glossary
Main Characters
Minor Characters
Measurement
Ranks in the Gean Army
Maps of Gea and Mykerenos
The Chronicles of Gea
Introduction
W hat Dreams May Come is the second in a series of ten novels that cover a period of about seventy-five years. Each stands alone, though with references to events in earlier books, and some characters appear in more than one.
The series is set in an imaginary world based loosely on a Classical Greek milieu, though transported to a northern temperate zone and with women playing a much more independent role than in Classical antiquity. The military side is largely based on Alexandrian and Macedonian Successor models.
The land of Gea is mainly an ethnic, linguistic and cultural unity, though not a political one. Its history has been one of intermittent warfare between its fifteen independent states and with the surrounding countries. However, for the last quarter of a century, the inexorable rise of Troia has welded the states, now provinces, into a formidable Empire. Insurrection, civil wars and foreign conflicts nevertheless remain common.
What Dreams May Come is set in the year 510, ten years after the events recounted in the first novel, None So Blind . Gea is groaning under the tyrannical rule of the usurping Emperor, Laomedon.
The Geans are culturally and militarily advanced. Their strength is in the hoplite, a heavily armoured, close order infantryman, fighting in a disciplined line with shield and long thrusting spear.
Cavalry is relatively unimportant, generally used for scouting or pursuit of a defeated enemy.
Light javelin armed infantry, called peltastes, and missile troops, or psiloi, with bow and sling, play a supporting role.
The army has a complex command structure, based on ektatoi, equivalent to modern non-commissioned officers, of whom the most important is the feared hyperetes, best regarded as a sergeant-major. Above the ektatoi are line officers of various ranks, culminating in strategoi or generals.
Many cultural and military terms are left unexplained, as the context should suggest the basic meaning, and more is unnecessary.
At the end of the book, information can be found under the following headings:


Glossary
Main characters
Minor characters
Measurement
Ranks in the Gean Army
Maps of Gea and Mykerenos
Maps are available at http://www.harpalycus.com
The Chronicles of Gea

What Dreams May Come

Perhaps it will be so. Perhaps one weary night,
delight in this insipid world long fled,
a night of frost and stars and pale moonlight,
alone in cold and vastness of my bed
I’ll wake to you, and know you warm and by.
I’ll once more hear the soft exhale of breath
and feel your loving arm across me lie,
in desperate dream that I but dreamed your death.
From clinging night hag claws I’ll frantic fight,
afeared it be delusion, turn to you.
Your face moon-spun and smoothed by soft half-light
brings surety that it be surely true.
Concerned, you reach for me to soothe my fears.
Whisper me to calm, to take no care.
’Twas but a dream. You’ll kiss away my tears.
No need for such despair, for you are there.
And real. All’s well. To sleep once more. But then,
however could I bear to wake again?
ONE
26th day of Mounichion, Year 510. Bogazkoi. Mykerenos.
The girl waved cheerfully from the open window. She was a pretty little thing, and Troilus raised a nonchalant hand in response but added his best winning smile. He had learned that it had a most satisfactory effect on the young women of Bogazkoi. She glanced behind him and promptly disappeared. With a guilty start, he looked round, but, to his relief, there was no Phoebe in evidence; only Elissa coming down the dirt track that passed for a road. The priestess of Herakla, she was dumpy and apple-cheeked, clad, as always, in a spotless, pure white chiton, with a small golden pomegranate hanging round her neck. Troi liked her. She had a cheerful, maternal manner and a no-nonsense approach to life that appealed to him.
‘Troilus,’ she hailed. ‘I was just coming to see your father.’ He waited for her to catch him up. She glanced at the roe deer slung over his shoulder. ‘I wanted to ask him about the wild boar he promised for the Lady Herakla’s Day of Birth Feast.’
‘We know where they’re lying up, Revered One, so it will be there. Don’t worry.’
She smiled. ‘Thank you. Well, that’s saved my old legs a little bit of walking.’ She looked up speculatively at the window. ‘Phoebe not around, then?’ There was a definite twinkle in her eye.
‘It doesn’t seem so,’ he said with a straight face.
‘Perhaps as well. Take care, Troilus. Sometimes the exuberance of youth can be a trap for the unwary.’
‘I can’t think what you mean.’
She raised her eyebrows, but her lips quirked slightly. ‘Oh, I think you can.’ She turned to go. ‘May the blessings of the Lady Herakla fall on you.’
‘And on you, Revered One.’
‘Don’t forget the boar,’ she said as she set off back to the town.
‘I won’t.’ He hitched the carcass up to sit more comfortably on his shoulder and walked on. He lived with Aias in one of the small collection of rude huts and ramshackle houses that had overleapt the boundaries of the town to trickle out towards the surrounding semicircle of woodland. It was the haunt of outdoorsmen: shepherds and woodsmen, hunters and farmers scratching a living on their smallholdings. A community within a community.
He walked through the open door of one of the sturdier and better-crafted buildings and dumped the deer on the scarred work table. Aias was sitting by the hearth, one leg propped up on a low stool, carefully fixing a new hand grip to a bow. A small ceramic pot sat in a bowl of warm water before the fire, and the air was thick with the rotting smell of animal hide glue. He glanced up at Troi and then the deer.
‘Could have done worse,’ he grunted.
That was high praise from Aias. He did not throw compliments round like nuts and fruit at a wedding. Troi took the flensing knife down from its hook and began to skin the deer.
‘Elissa picked up my spoor. She wanted to be sure there would be wild boar at the feast.’
Aias groaned. ‘Bloody woman’s a witch. Waits until a man’s feeling halfway right with the world after a few kylixes of decent red and then pounces. Then you’re out there hunting wild boar and getting bugger all for it.’
‘I thought all women were witches.’
‘They are,’ grumbled Aias, carefully trimming the last bit of leather thong. ‘Some’s just bigger witches than others.’
Troi laughed. ‘Anyway, it’s me that’ll be doing the hunting. That ankle still needs resting.’
‘Just make sure you take the juvenile with the torn ear. She hasn’t farrowed.’
Troi nodded, then looked up to a howl of grief from across the low wall of their small courtyard. He glanced across at Aias questioni

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