Heartstone Under the Shadow

John Schreiber

Description

Ten years after the events recounted in Heartstone, enemies threaten
Elinala´s peace by threatening its chief architect--Derrick of Loneoak
Island. Not only does this conspiracy have roots in the mysterious Shadow
Empire, but the conspiracy also has a far more terrifying goal--to force
Derrick into reawakening heartstone.

The method used by this conspiracy? Destroy everything Derrick loves.

Once again, ancient evils threaten to destroy Elinala, but this time the
greatest evil may be caused by Derrick himself.

Exactly what the Shadow Empire wants.

Sujets

• Fantastique
• Epic Fantasy
• Epic
• Fiction
• Fantasy

Informations

• Publié par: Xlibris US
• Date de parution: 11 août 2011
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781465344038
• Langue: English

Extrait

Heartstone: Under the Shadow
 
John Schreiber

Copyright © 2011 by John Schreiber.
ISBN: Softcover      978-1-4653-4402-1
ISBN: Ebook           978-1-4653-4403-8
 
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.
 
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
 
This book was printed in the United States of America.
 
To order additional copies of this book, contact:
Xlibris Corporation
1-888-795-4274
www.Xlibris.com
[e-mail]
82447
“An ancient power is like a mirror, reflecting the Promise and spreading its light,” the sage observed, “but if used for evil, it becomes like a whirlpool, pulling all things into itself, destroying all.”
 
—the Stewards’ Book of Tales
 
“I do not trust anyone in power, including myself,” the High Steward said, to which Commander Hazar replied, “And that is why my soldiers and I trust you with our lives.”
 
— The Heartstone War , by Manfred Caird



Contents
 
Prologue
 
BOOK ONE:
The Lion and the Unicorn
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
 
BOOK TWO:
The Shadow and the Horn
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
 
BOOK THREE:
The Wrath of Heartstone
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
 
Epilogue
Appendix of Names and Terms
  Prologue
I grip the dragon’s rough-scaled neck and rise higher into the biting, frigid wind. Far below, the alpine forest thins into barren tundra and frozen streams. Above, the gray clouds gather rapidly, billowing, churning.
Flying farther. Snow-topped mountains, then rocky plateau.
Landing. Jolt—nearly fall off—as dragon’s talons scatter rocks.
Hands numb with cold.
I step off dragon’s back and waves of snow blow across feet.
Icy wind whips cloak, freezes face.
Tall heartstone tower—green and brown spire against gray clouds.
I grab pendant and form cocoon of heartstone warmth.
Power surges down arms and legs, power that raises seas and topples mountains—
 
Derrick gasped and sat up on the wide bed. Breathing rapidly, he rubbed his perspiring forehead.
Beside him, Valerie stirred and touched his arm. “Bad dream again?” she mumbled, half asleep.
He slid out of bed. “It’s nothing.”
She turned over while he stepped out onto the balcony overlooking moonlit Riftedrock. Sometimes he could hear strains of faint music from a distant tavern, fragments of melody carried aloft by the night wind, but tonight all was quiet—not even the clattering of a horse-drawn wagon or a crying baby. Far below, the street lanterns looked like stars that had fallen into the city.
Looking over the city reminded him of his dream, of riding on the rough back of Endilthron, the last Elinalan dragon, when he had held unlimited power in his heartstone pendant.
He leaned on the balcony’s cold stone, the moonlight silvering his light brown hair. “What I could have done,” he whispered to the night, “if I had known what to do with such power.”
He knew that he had done the best that he could, yet he could not stop berating himself: And if I had to do it over, would I have the strength to reject heartstone power?
He rubbed his forehead: Such is the nature of temptation. It never lets go.
He turned to look at the curves of his wife’s body under the sheets: I am blessed. Married to Valerie, Maid of the Unicorns. High Steward of Elinala. Friends for councilors. My country experiencing nearly ten years of growing prosperity.
Yet the nightmares are coming more frequently, with greater intensity: My time of peace is coming to an end.
  BOOK ONE:
 
The Lion and the Unicorn
  Chapter 1
In the spring of his ninth year as ruler of Elinala, High Steward Derrick, the Lion of Riftedrock, saw all that he had done and all that he hoped to do teeter on the edge of a sword .
 
— The Lion and the Unicorn , by Manfred Caird
 
Derrick galloped into the Riftedrock square, the morning sun reflecting off the emblem on his red breastplate: a black lion standing before five silver circles. He hated wearing the stifling, uncomfortable chainmail and breastplate, but he knew that his soldiers gained confidence whenever he appeared before them in regal splendor.
Easily recognizing Commander Hazar by his black cloak and red armor, Derrick reined in his horse beside Elinala’s seasoned military leader and dismounted. Derrick removed his black leather helmet with its side guards, revealing the plain gold circlet he wore for a crown. The early morning breeze cooled his light brown hair: Perhaps this will turn out well after all, he thought.
Hazar bowed to Derrick, the scar running down Hazar’s left cheek showing white on his florid face, and, as he rose, his shoulders relaxed slightly in Derrick’s presence. “High Steward, I have given them our terms.”
“Did they respond?”
Hazar pointed to the tall brick building across the square. “The messenger said that we must pull back our forces and declare them a legitimate religion, or they will sacrifice the children.”
Derrick clenched his fists, his blue eyes narrowing. “Commander, when you advised force early on, I disagreed. Now I see that you were right.”
Hazar’s gray eyes looked away. Derrick’s humility always caught him off guard. “My liege, if you had followed my advice days ago, force would have only hastened us down this path. Though I did not believe your diplomacy would work, it did offer a chance for peace. And hope, though I don’t trust it, can occasionally bring success.”
Derrick looked over the cordon of Riftedrock Guard, an ominous line of blue-armored men. Hands resting on their swords, they impassively faced the brick temple of the Sons of Shadow. Near their feet lay a scattered collection of garbage that had been hurled from those trapped within. He was glad to see that his soldiers had not responded to the taunts of onlookers. He must remember to commend them later.
“Should we bring in the King’s Guard?” Hazar asked.
Derrick shook his head. “I am not in danger. By using the Riftedrock Guard, we demonstrate that we are defending the city, not me.”
“But if the soldiers must enter that temple, the King’s Guard is better trained for close quarters combat.”
“I will not belittle these men by bringing in the King’s Guard. It is the Riftedrock Guard’s job to protect this city from all dangers, including this cult.” Derrick nodded to the six archers waiting behind the main line. As one, they nocked arrows, but kept their bows down. “Commander, how old was their last messenger? Was he as young as the previous ones?”
“Fourteen, at the oldest.”
“At that age I had already started my apprenticeship to Hodge,” Derrick said, then sighed with regret. “I, too, obeyed many foolish things when I was young.”
Hazar surveyed the throng of onlookers around the square. “Children, not unlike soldiers, are taught to blindly obey.”
“But I never want anyone’s blind obedience, Commander, especially yours. I need your experience and opinions to enlighten mine.”
A slight smile graced Hazar’s usually somber face. “Most monarchs are not like you, King Derrick.”
Derrick glanced at Hazar, exasperated. “How many times have I ordered you not to call me ‘king’?” Then he realized that the Commander was only trying to break the tension of the moment.
A third-story shutter on the temple abruptly swung open and a dark-haired, bearded man leaned out. In the street, the archers raised their bows, awaiting Derrick’s order.
“So, the great King Derrick comes himself,” the man shouted, as much to Derrick as to the curious crowd lining the square. “You know our terms.”
Derrick walked up to the line of soldiers, his telltale limp showing, and the line separated to make room for his passage. Derrick raised his voice so that everyone in the square could hear. “As you know, the Elinalan Council asked that a representative be allowed to visit your ceremonies, but you refused. On behalf of the Council, I ask again. If you agree, these soldiers will withdraw. We wish harm to no one.”
The man’s face turned red, his hands shaking with anger. “We worshipped freely under your father, the glorious King Farrel. He never interfered in our affairs.”
The crowd of onlookers murmured slightly, some agreeing with the man.
Derrick took another step forward, and the line of soldiers shifted toward him, fearful that he was getting too close to the building. Derrick waved them back: This exchange needs to end quickly, he thought, and safely.
“My father,” Derrick said, “also demanded that he be worshipped. That practice has been abolished, along with all sacrifices.”
The crowd murmured a bit louder, siding now with Derrick.
The bearded man stepped back, then reapp