ILLBORN: Book One of The Illborn Saga

T. Jackson Daniel

Description

BOOK ONE OF THE ILLBORN SAGA Long ago, The Lord Aiduel emerged from the deserts of the Holy Land, possessed with divine powers. He used these to forcibly unite the peoples of Angall, before His ascension to heaven.Over eight hundred years later, in a medieval world which is threatened by war and religious persecution, four young men and women begin to develop supernatural abilities. These forbidden and secret powers will shatter the lives that they have known, and will force each of them to confront the mystery of the ethereal Gate which haunts their dreams. What does the dream mean, and how is it connected to their burgeoning abilities?As they experience conflict, love, lust and betrayal, in lands which are being overtaken by war, they must try to stay ahead of and to survive the sinister forces which are now pursuing them. For they are being huntedIllbornis Daniel T. Jackson's powerful and gritty debut novel, and is the thrilling opening chapter in the epic fantasy story ofThe Illborn Saga.

Sujets

• Fantasy (canción de Mariah Carey)
• High fantasy
• Fantasy

Informations

• Publié par: Troubador Publishing Ltd
• Date de parution: 28 mai 2021
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781800468962
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

ILLBORN



Daniel T. Jackson is a fantasy enthusiast, with a love for fantastical worlds and epic adventures. After 25 years of creating stories for friends and family, Daniel finally escaped from his day job to fulfil his lifelong ambition of writing Illborn . With The Illborn Saga , he hopes to create the next classic fantasy series.

Daniel is married with four children, and lives in the United Kingdom. He also loves hiking, cycling and piano, and volunteers for a number of good causes. Illborn is his first published novel.



Copyright © 2021 Daniel T. Jackson

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.


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ISBN 978 1800468 962

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

To Elaine, my lovely wife.





Contents
Prologue
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
Interlude 1
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
Interlude 2
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
Some months later
Epilogue


Prologue
Caddin
–
Year of Our Lord, After Ascension, 761AA
How does the opportunity ever arise for one person to alter the destiny of a world?
Although Caddin Sendromm had a passing interest in matters of philosophy, he had never given any previous consideration to this particular question. Nor was he considering it now, whilst sitting in a dark corner of a grimy tavern in northern Angloss. Instead, he was merely contemplating the direction that his next day’s travel might take, at the moment when the stranger approached him.
‘Begging your pardon, master,’ the unknown man said quietly, while raising a hand to touch a lock of hair on his forehead. ‘My name’s Sern Maddoc. I’m a sheep farmer out at the Maddoc Farm, seven miles from here. I’m told that you’re a healer and a wise man. Is that correct, master?’
Caddin chuckled, the sound a low rumble in his throat. ‘A healer and a wise man, eh? A healer certainly, but perhaps not always so wise, friend.’
Maddoc displayed no reaction to the attempt at humour. He had averted his eyes downwards, and his feet shifted restlessly as he stood in place before Caddin’s table.
‘Please, be at ease, friend,’ Caddin added warmly, and gestured to the chair next to him. ‘I’m Caddin. Caddin Sendromm. Please, take a seat and tell me what’s troubling you.’
The farmer shuffled forwards to accept the invitation, glancing to Caddin’s side as he sat down. Caddin knew that Maddoc had for the first time seen the oversized mace which rested against Caddin’s chair. The weapon was comprised of three feet of solid oak shaft, topped with a formidable steel head.
Caddin patted the mace reassuringly. ‘Please, pay the weapon no mind. It’s my travelling companion, and keeps me safe on the road, sometimes. No need for a good fellow like you to be concerned by it.’
Maddoc shifted in his seat, looking around in what appeared to be an assessment of the distance between the two of them and the other occupants of the hostelry. Having apparently satisfied himself on this point, he leaned forwards in his chair, and uttered in a low voice, ‘I… a member of my family, that is… have need of a healer.’
‘That is indeed my profession, amongst other things,’ replied Caddin, also keeping his voice low. ‘What’s wrong with your family member?’
Maddoc’s eyes dropped down to the table, before he turned his head to once again check the proximity of everyone else in the room. ‘I can’t say, master. Not here. But he needs help. I need to show you.’
Caddin’s curiosity was roused. ‘You cannot say? Why not?’
Maddoc responded in a voice close to a whisper. ‘I’ve been told that you accept payment for your services, master Caddin. I’d pay you, if you were to come out to my farm with me. But I can’t tell you here, master. I have to show you.’
Caddin leaned his head in closer to the man, dropping his own voice further. ‘I must admit, I’m intrigued by whatever ailment your family member could possibly have to merit your concern for secrecy. However, I’d prefer to hear some details here before I say yes or no. We’re past noon already, and a fourteen-mile round trip is a journey I’d rather not take only to find out it’s either a matter of no consequence, or some condition for which I can be of no service.’
Maddoc scowled, his expression suggesting that the conversation was not proceeding in the manner which he had planned out in advance. ‘Please name a fair price for the journey then, master. I promise you that it’s… important. Real important, and I’d be grateful for any help I can get or any learning that you can share. We’ve no true healers in this valley, see, and people I trust in this town have told me that your wise learning is far above that of any local person. If you can’t help my family, well, then I’ll pay you for the wasted journey, but I can’t tell you more right now. I have to show you, master.’ By the time that Maddoc had finished, there was a pleading tone in his voice.
Caddin leaned back in his seat, considering the matter. In this case, the decision came easily.
Remember, he thought to himself, reciting one of the mantras which had sustained him on the road over many long years, Aiduel reminds us that he who does not search shall never find.
‘I shall not take your coin for making a journey, Sern,’ Caddin replied, sincerely. ‘Let’s go to your farm. When we get there, I hope that you’ll be more forthcoming and that I’ll be able to help. If so, you can then pay me whatever you consider to be fair. Tell me one thing though, before we leave. You said “he” needs help. Who is “he”?’
‘My son,’ Maddoc replied, his tone softening in apparent relief. ‘My son needs help.’
–
Two hours later, Caddin was riding his horse through the northern Angloss countryside. Sern Maddoc was a few metres ahead of him, the shepherd seated upon a rickety horse-drawn wool cart. Caddin gripped his own horse’s reins in one fist, and patted the mace which hung from his saddle with the other hand. He then directed his horse to follow as the sheep farmer turned his cart off from the main road, and through a gate onto a much smaller side-track towards the Maddoc farm.
The sky had turned from clear blue to dark grey in the time it had taken them to travel from the town. Ominous clouds had swept in from the east and were now threatening a storm. The gloomy weather acted to emphasise the bleak nature of the countryside in these parts, with open moorland and scrub covering shallow, rolling hills. These features were interspersed only occasionally with jagged outcrops of rock or standalone stunted trees.
Sheep country, Caddin thought ruefully, grimacing in reaction to the miserable surroundings, full of sheep, shit, and more sheep . Oh, and apparent mystery illnesses .
‘How much further?’ he enquired of Maddoc.
‘My farm’s a quarter of a mile down this track, master, around the hill up there ahead. The gate we passed through marked the edge of my land.’
Caddin grunted in acknowledgement, but did not attempt to engage Maddoc in any deeper conversation. Since leaving the town he had tried to extract more information from the sheep farmer, but most of his questions had been met with a request to wait until they reached the farm. Instead, Caddin shifted the straps of the backpack on his shoulder. He then reached his hand up to touch the medallion which rested against his chest, hidden beneath his robes. Feeling reassured by the welcome contact with the metal object, he stared back towards the main road as it disappeared from view.
After a short time, the Maddoc farm came into sight, its buildings nestling in the shallow valley between a hill to the south and a gently rising slope to the north. The Maddoc property was clearly remote from its nearest neighbour.
The farm consisted of three buildings; a two-storey stone farmhouse, a smaller stone outhouse, and a larger wooden barn. Caddin’s eyes focused upon the barn, where two people and a number of dogs were busy shepherding the Maddoc flock through open doors to the shelter within. As they got closer, Caddin could see that the first of the two individuals was a woman of similar age to Maddoc himself, who Caddin assumed was the farmer’s wife. The second was a blonde-haired and scrawny boy, who was in his early teens.
‘Is that your son?’ Caddin asked, while gesturing towards the youth.
‘Yes,’ replied Maddoc. ‘My son Cillian, with my wife Hengra. They’re bringing the sheep in before this storm hits us.’
Caddin watched as the son’s head turned towards them, after the boy had heard their voices. Whether through a trick of the light or otherwise, the youth’s eyes seemed to glow eerily as he focused upon the unusual sight of his father ar