The Shadow Scrolls: Series Book One, The Vale of Blood

PD Ph.D. Lorenz

Description

The Shadow Scrolls is a new novel series by PD Lorenz. Book One, The Vale of Blood, follows the coming of age adventures of young Jonathan of Scharp and the girl, quite literally, of his dreams. Swept away from the relative safe haven that is Irenay and the land of his birthright, Jonathan finds himself wrapped up into the mysterious City of Gish and the plight of its people.

Upon arrival, he becomes enfolded into an insurgent assassin's sect called, The Shade. However, just beyond his meteoric rise through the ranks of power lies a snake in waiting... A serpent called betrayal whose venomous strike condemns our hero to a horrifying existence, leaving one question to linger on the edge of eternity...

Can hope and the light of redemption rise out of the ashes of a life poorly chosen...?

Sujets

• Fantastique
• Epic Fantasy
• Epic
• Fiction
• Fantasy

Informations

• Publié par: eBookIt.com
• Date de parution: 21 février 2013
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9780971180307
• Langue: English

Extrait

The Shadow Scrolls
PD Lorenz
 
The Vale of Blood
Series Part One
 
 
Choice Publications LLC

Copyright © 2011 by PD Lorenz,
All rights reserved.
 
The Shadow Scrolls: Series Book One, The Vale of Blood
by PD Lorenz
 
Original Publication 2009, conceived in 1992.
 
Published in eBook format by Choice Publications, LLC
Converted by http://www.eBookIt.com
 
ISBN-13: 978-0-9711-8030-7
 
All names used and/or utilized are purely fictional. Any likeness is merely coincidental.
 
No part of this publication may be reproduced in whole or in part, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, contact Choice Publications @ www.Choicepublications.net
 


The Shadow Scrolls
S hadows are created when light strikes a substance and casts darkness beyond… At times, that gloom can reach unfathomable depths; but what if that darkness was not so deep? What if those, living in the shadows, were not living in darkness at all, but merely within a lesser light…?
 


 
To My Father.....
 
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
This project has been a very long time in the making and there are almost too many people to thank, for the journey has brought me across a multitude of pathways. However, some just have to be acknowledged.
First, I’d like to thank God for…, well, everything! I’d also like to thank my beautiful wife who has always been my number one supporter, sacrificing many hours of labor and encouragement, and for creating the stunning cover. I’d also like to thank my awesome boys, Joshua, Joseph, and Samuel for their attentive listening skills and palpable excitement. Thank you guys for all of the hard work that each of you put into this project.
Thank you to my Mom, Janet, who read the manuscript during one of the most difficult times of her life and still found the time to encourage me. Your strength is truly amazing. Thank you to the rest of my family for just allowing me to be a part of your lives. Thank you especially to my niece, Kenzie Kate Floyd and Kenzie Kate Photography for the incredible cover pictures. Your wonderful gift is just that to the rest of us, a gift.
A big thank you to Bob and Johnna Hale for your many prayers and much support throughout the years. Thank you to Nancy Yacher for your incredible work in reading through, and editing, the raw material. This book wouldn’t be what it is, and what we hope it to be, without your giftedness.
Thank you to Robert Eldredge Sr. and Choice Publications who enthusiastically embraced this book.
Thank you to Pastors Mike and Carolyn Atkinson and the leadership of Pastors Brady and Pamela Boyd and New Life Church. Also, to Mike Richards for believing in our story and Scott Bolinder for your guidance and direction.
Thank you to our wonderful friends Pastor Sam and his family, Keith Curtis and his amazing talents, Craig Bilderback and his family, the Parcha family, Brad and Andrea Parsley and their family, and Brad and Michelle Fallentine and their family for your wonderful help in presenting this work to the world.
Thank you to my brothers and sisters in the fire service; especially stations 31, 30, 11, 8 & 2. Stay safe!
Lastly, but certainly not least, I would like to thank the five father figures that have mentored and guided me thus far in this journey called life. Each one of you has been a monumental figure at key crossroads for me. Therefore, this book has been dedicated to all of you….
 
Shadow Scroll the First
 
- A Prologue -
Even from the beginning, the blood of mankind has cried out from the ground, but never has it wept louder than one unequaled and compelling day. It was a day like no other, neither before nor since... a day with almost no date; a time outside of time. It was as if the moment itself were held in a sort of suspension, so as, to be near to everyone. It was at that crossroads of time that there lived a certain king… a king who did an unfathomable act; an act that would cast a shadow upon all.
The sun broke through the darkness that crisp winter morn with a piercing intensity, its rays sweeping over the Realms of Irenay like the euphoric feeling of an approaching new season. Irenay, a land whose birthright was peace, (for so it was named), was about to go through another birthing. It was a birth surrounded by struggle and warfare… And it was all bathed in great drops of blood.
The realm’s great white castle, Lock Kalaw, was majestically tucked into a pocket atop the highest peak of the Awlak Mountain Range. Still, it was an elevation that was dwarfed by the enormity and grandeur of the Range of the Unknown, aptly named for no earthly being had ever ascended to its heights. In fact, the lofty peaks no eye had ever even seen, for they pierced the very atmosphere itself and forever lay above the mists and fire of that heavenly shield. The day that we are speaking of also marked the time when the grand waterfalls of Kalaw broke open to create a torrential outpouring in comparison to the relative trickle of their former majesty. Those said waters were the same ones which flowed throughout the foundations of the castle itself, fed from the lofts beyond. It was said that the waters ran to and fro amongst the gardens and courtyards of the lock like nature’s children playing hide and seek amongst the rocks and pillars. However, on that great and terrible day, they surpassed their previous grandeur as the Range of the Unknown poured out even greater drafts from its refreshing springs creating quite a conundrum… For although the waters increased abundantly upon the land, granting greater life lending liquid, the realm itself was rather decreasing into a fall… That is, a descent to the greatest of depths, as we shall presently see.
The atmosphere of the castle seemed to draw and lose its breath all at once as the giant oak and iron doors of the Eastern Gate swung open with no small effort from the immense gatekeepers, for they had swung them open to the dawning of a new day. The entire keep reacted to the breaching of those doors, for the ancient doors of that particular set had never been opened before, reserved for such a day from the building of the foundations of the castle.
Bakers and butlers, saddlers, sewers and smiths… all watched with anticipation, their breath emanating from their mouths like hundreds of small chimneys growing cold. Even the veteran soldiers-at-arms watched with an air of uncertainty. Never before had the king departed from the Eastern Gate; never before had it been breached from without, nor within. It had always been off limits to anyone. A perimeter of forty lengths was cordoned around the entrance on the inside, and that for ages. One could hardly see the doors beyond the years of overgrown grapevines which had completely sheltered and shaded them by their growths; growths which were only allowed to be tended to once a year. They were sacred plants and sacred doors; sacred and locked doors… p reviously locked doors.
Emerging from the darkness of the Eastern Gate and the alcove of his own decision, the king strode aside his great steed, Diokalees, a war horse so magnificent that the other coursers of the castle fell depressed whenever he departed. He was the stud to all of the others horses of the royal household, horses that were bred and raised to measure up to the standard of him. Every muscle beneath his silvery coat, every twitch of his silky white tail, every majestic turn of his pillar-like head was marked by power and strength. The blackness that arose from his hooves to his lower legs made it seem as though he were riding on the very air. And yet, the humility in his loyalty and obedience to his master shone through with each flawless and seemingly effortless movement. The king need only hint in the direction with a slight twitch of the wrist and it would be accomplished with lightening quick reflexes. However, on that day, even the great steed Diokalees shuffled a hoof as the anticipation of the ride grew more thickly.
The king himself was dressed in his winter white furs that covered his hardened leather and forged gold battle array. Upon his head sat the Crown of the People, a crown with a multiplicity of precious stones inside and out. Inside, the stones were polished smooth like river stones so as to be wearable and fit only for the king himself. Outside, they were cut and angled in precisely a manner so that the colors of the entire spectrum sparkled as the rays of the morning sun flashed from beyond the gently passing clouds. Each step was a measured one… measured not to create a performance of some sort, but rather, it was a measurement from within. And a question lingered within his mind…
“Can I endure?”
The moments hung in the air like the end of a strummed note in the midst of an orchestration. It created a silence save for the morning breeze that slipped through the trees. Servants of all sorts observed from beyond the windows and walls of the keep. So did the soldiers-at-arms who quietly followed the king as did two other servants as they delicately anticipated any kingly command.
Halting Diokalees, the king ran his powerful vein swollen hand down the extent of the war horse as if to measure the length of his capability, for he knew that the ride would test his steed like no other. Upon reaching the golden horn of the saddle he, in one swift movement, swung himself aloft the horse and positioned himself upon its back. He was not a large man so the steed hardly moved beneath his weight. In fact, when the king walked amongst the population of the keep, he hardly stood out save for the fact that he wore the robes of royalty. At times, he would not wear them at all and no one would even notice his passing. His eyes were piercingly sharp and his face chiseled to a perfect balance between spa