The Dragon of Illenwell

Philip Brice

Description

Try if you will, to ride in this wielder’s boots for a day. While he travels about in this who done it fantasy!

A kingdom in peril summons an aging wielder with a calm head on his shoulders backed by seasons of experience to his next job. But during his quest, a job that pits him against fierce predators across a diverse landscape, diversions take him further from the truth while the suspects grow closer to him. And when an incriminating clue points to the woman he loves but had turned away, the wielder’s testament could be jeopardized.

This fantasy has it all! Love, hate, discrimination, pride, and one heck of “what’s going on?” Throw in a few beautiful women and several dragons and you have a love triangle. Reader beware and watch your back!

Sujets

• Fantastique
• Epic Fantasy
• Treaty
• Steel
• Sword
• Lady
• Kingdom
• Mountain
• Lord
• Treasure
• Testament
• Orb
• Fiction
• Dragon
• Fantasy

Informations

• Publié par: iUniverse
• Date de parution: 31 août 2022
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781663234285
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 3 Mo

Extrait

The Dragon of Illenwell
Testament of Wielders: Book One
Philip Brice


THE DRAGON OF ILLENWELL TESTAMENT OF WIELDERS: BOOK ONE
 
Copyright © 2022 Philip Brice.
 
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
 
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, places, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
 
 
 
 
iUniverse
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Bloomington, IN 47403
www.iuniverse.com
844-349-9409
 
Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
 
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
 
ISBN: 978-1-6632-3429-2 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-6632-5175-6 (hc)
ISBN: 978-1-6632-3428-5 (e)
 
Library of Congress Control Number: 2022911576
 
 
 
iUniverse rev. date: 03/15/2023
Contents
Acknowledgements
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
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
 
For my son, Kyle, who couldn’t find a dragon book that he liked, so, I wrote him one.
Love,
Dad
 
There is no remembrance of the men of old; nor of those to come will there be any remembrance among those who come after them.
—Ecclesiastes 1:11
Acknowledgements
There are many that I wish to thank and there are many more that I could not possibly thank enough.
God, from whom all inspiration comes including those testaments that aid our wielder to success.
To iUniverse including Traci, Maggie and the editorial team for whom I could not have had this book completed.
The Sawmillers, Sam and Melissa. They read this from infancy and encouraged me all the way. Melissa, write that novel!
The neighborhood boys and especially John Joseph Noble who helped me create some of these characters.
The magnificent artwork of Vladimir and his patience to help me understand the cover design.
My awesome and rather large Italian family that adapted me and never stopped believing in me, thanks ever so much and their lovely daughter that married me for better or worse and for our three children, Kyle, Haley and Nolan who helped to inspire me the most with this book.
Olivia Marie Luevano! Welcome to the family and THANK YOU!
Finally, and equally important, thanks Mom, Dad and Oz for all your love and support.



Jubilee Date 18, After Founding 9085
F or those who find and can translate and interpret these testaments, blessing be upon you from our Divine Giver. For only He truly knows when these will be found and/or can be even translated or salvaged?
You now hold in your grasp the testaments of Anglyllon and the stories of our age, some nine thousand seasons now.
Testamentors were skilled at their craft. Sources ranged from creditable to eyewitness accounts—from actual events told by those who knew them well to the stories handed down through oral traditions.
They came from actual wielders and apprentices to lords and ladies who ran our kingdoms.
Zoarians, our watcher brothers from the skies, observing us and sharing with us their observations and wisdom.
Here is but one of the many countless deeds of our wielders. Our dates were added to the beginnings in order that one may place them in some chronological order, depending on what, if any, should survive.
Unfortunately, testamentors can be a bit biased (to downright opinionated), so try not to read too much into them.
Some testaments are from anonymous authors—either simply unknown or those who wish to remain unknown or long forgotten.
Many are from those who cleverly and, with great stealth, hid away, while others yet are survivors themselves.
Perhaps you can take our successes and failures to better understand your past and where your future lies.
Still yet perhaps, just maybe, burn these all, along with our past and write your own future.
Chapter 1
P.D. 87, A.F. 8130
The wielder pressed his white windbred on. It was a magnificent beast, sturdy, agile, and just as determined as its owner. Four strong legs swiftly devoured the road. The windbred was as relentless as its owner, and both focused down the East Road and could see nothing but their goal. Muscles tone and taxed to the point of exhaustion as they collapsed the amount of time between them and their destination. The wielder’s sword of gold, a distinguished symbol of achievement, bounced with the rhythm of the charging windbred. As he rode low to the beast’s neck, he could smell the sweat and perspiration from the heat of the mid sun, coupled by that of the long ride.
They moved as one, breathed as one, thought as one, and ached as one—through the brightest part of the suns and the darkest of nights and everything that came in between. Both rested when needed and ate on the move, for even at this moment, the wielder’s mind had already arrived at their destination. But it, unfortunately, would take several more suns to make Strong Tower. And that disturbed him immensely, for he knew that, even now, the kingdom was held together by a thin strand of hope, hope that would now be shadowed behind the eyes of a concerned lady. Her lord and an entire kingdom, not to mention the rest of the country, were forced to wait patiently for their anticipated arrival.
Although, in his mind, there would be no safety on this job, he was at least grateful that his rugged companion could outride whatever distractions would come their way. After all, they had just left the settlement of Ree on the shore of the Useppettus River and would not stop until it intersected with the other three roads in the middle of Strong Tower, some four or five suns away. But for now, this part of the country was thick with forests, and that kept the rider ever more mindful as they cut through the kingdom of South Avalore, where he really expected nothing at all. However, to the direct south was yet another story, for it invited endless possibilities for distractions.
Even though Lord Krhan would say it was part of his kingdom of Lavenden, it was completely open to the development of future kingdoms and sparsely inhabited by small villages and small clusters of tight-knit families who rather relished in their own private affairs, far from lords, orbs, and other such politics. For now, that didn’t concern the rider as much as the distractions, so they drove on, each keeping a mindful eye to the thick forest on either side. For leaving this part of the country could not come soon enough.
The windbred momentarily stumbled under the wielder’s weight, forcing him to lose his concentration.
“Steady boy,” The wielder spoke to his true companion as he reached out and patted the windbred’s sweaty head. “I know you need a break. But we can’t, my best friend; they needed us there promptly.”
But they both understood who really needed him. And it burned impatiently within him, and he tried desperately to bury the thoughts. “One wielder, one sword,” he cursed. “What in twilight’s end are these Zoarians working at?” He cursed again, and his windbred grunted loudly as if it agreed. There are now too many kingdoms and more coming. He cursed and kicked his loyal companion on.
Perhaps, in the earlier seasons of Anglyllon’s founding, this worked. But not now! Too much travel, more corruption. We need one body, one kingdom with all the orbs. Unified Anglyllon . The wielder’s exhausted mind screamed for relief. Will someone listen before I’m dead? His mind shouted toward his windberd, about the only living thing that understood him right at that moment.
Well , he changed his direction of thought to calm himself down, at least she is listening to our call for unification. He continued to address his windbred as he spoke of the lady, but that only transported him to their last departing some four seasons past now. He remembered it all too clearly. The soft rain and cooler evening had just begun to announce the beginning of the harvest season. He held her close to him as they stood on the tall east wall overlooking the road and what lay beyond. Her touch and smell immediately tortured his mind. That moment, like so many moments before, had allowed them to reminisce about what could have been, what should have been, what almost was. And what really was.
That very same moment had plagued him like so many before and had upset him all the same. But that last time was more so than any other departing, just with the remembrance of that embrace and that kiss. It wasn’t a farewell kiss or a soft impression upon his lips, not a see-you-soon smack. It wasn’t a casual good luck brush across the cheek. Rather, it was the burning, lustful, starving kind of kiss that left the lasting scar of yearning upon his very being. Perhaps that was her plan—he cursed—a plan hard and cruel. Make him never forget his decision, his choosing if you will. True to his word, the wielder had yet to have chosen a woman. If he couldn