Nexus Moons (eBook)

Book One of the Tales of Graal

Ron Root (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2020 | 1. Auflage
360 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
978-1-0983-0936-7 (ISBN)

Infos

Nexus Moons is a tale of the bonding of family and friends, and of individuals finding their place in the universe. Nexus moons are rare. So much so, that Magus Jarek Verity only learns of them during a chance encounter with his scholarly friend, Headmaster Lavan. Jarek had gone to Lavan's island in search of recently discovered family-a prize he thought forever lost. While in the islands, Lavan persuades him to participate in a magical experiment that can only take place during a nexus. All goes awry when Lavan gets spirited away to 'elsewhere' by an otherworld fiend. Aided by two fledgling magicians, Jarek risks life and limb in a fraught-filled journey to rescue his friend.

---

***** Recipient of three 5-star reviews by Readers' Favorite *****From berserkers to magi, from monsters to alternate existences, Nexus Moons has something for everyone who enjoys a good fantasy read. Its gripping third-person narrative will keep the reader engaged and invested, and the growth and development of characters will not leave them wanting. Action, mystery, looming threat, and danger drive the plot forward as kinship is forged and rekindled in unexpected ways. The story is chock full of rich characters. Protagonist Magus Jarek Verity is a sorcerer of the Royal Court off in search of a newly discovered nephew. Gresham Smithy, that nephew, is a soldier in training possessing a rare magical gift he's not even aware of. The aristocratic Rayna Kent, his romantic interest, is estranged from her High Lord father for reasons she cannot fathom. Hagley is a bumbling but versatile magus-in-training who befriends the two of them, as does Sully, his young sidekick and local waif. Villains abound too, as do the uncounted creatures that constantly threaten the adventurer's survival. The group's prime objective is to rescue Headmaster Lavan, Jarek's longtime friend, from the powerful fiend Zakarah, who's spirited the poor scholar off to who knows where. Their dangerous quest takes them into the wilds of Graal in search of a lost city of legend. Their adventure pushes each trouper beyond the limits any of them could ever imagine themselves enduring. Although saving Lavan is their quest, the story is about the coming of age of this assorted group of misfits as each struggles to find his or her place in a world that has thus far paid them little or no heed.

Textauszug

Arrival

The helmsman guided the ship past the final buoy and into port. “Boom two points abaft the beam, starboard side!” came a cry from the crow’s nest. The sails dropped, and the ship slammed against the pylons. The loud grating of wood on wood spawned a flurry of dockside activity. Sailors tossed mooring lines to waiting dockers who looped them around bollards and secured the vessel was.

Jarek stood watching from atop the ship’s deck, his magus robes flapping in the breeze. His plan had been to change into something more practical before debarking, but by the time he boarded, they had already stowed his belongings. The Captain had ordered the crew to treat them with extra care—to place them where rough seas wouldn’t damage them. That ‘extra care’ had them buried them so deep in the hold that the ship’s cargo had to be offloaded before the crew could reach them.

He took in the scene before him. Like all seaports, Portsmouth reeked of offal. He pinched closed his nose to thwart its stench. Why his sister had chosen this island to birth a child was beyond him. Perhaps she picked it because of its remoteness. It made sense, given that Damián was mundane. Ever was it frowned upon for a magus to marry an ungifted for fear it would diminish chances of their offspring inheriting the gift.

If isolation was Bronwyn’s plan, it worked. It had taken Jarek nearly two decades to discover her whereabouts, long after her abduction by Chevaliers, the One Church’s men-at-arms. Whereas the magi believed any person so gifted was free to practice the arts as he or she saw fit, it was not so with the One Church. They claimed exclusive domain over any aspect of the arts dealing with a man’s soul. It was heresy for anyone but one of their clerics to practice such arts, and the Chevaliers’ sworn duty to enforce those laws. Had that been Bronwyn’s crime? Had practicing forbidden arts precipitated her arrest? He sighed. After all this time, the answers to such questions were of secondary concern; he was here to find his nephew.

The gangplank fell, its loud bang shattering his reverie. A helmeted, sword-clad bodyguard guided a pair of wealthy benefactors down to the dock. Attired in latest Suzerain fashion, the portly man was bedecked in brightly colored tunic and leggings, loose-fitting breeches, and a chaperon cap. His wife’s garish attire made her husband’s look tame.

Porters arrived, gathered their belongings, and escorted them to a waiting carriage. They boarded and left. Jarek watched their departure with envy. Had the crewmen recovered his baggage in a timely fashion, he’d be on that carriage too.

With the gentry’s departure, the more modestly dressed common folk disembarked, too. Soon all passengers were off the ship but him. “You!” he hollered at the nearest porter. “Have they gotten to my belongings yet?” The young man’s eyes darted about, hoping it wasn’t him Jarek had hailed. Ever did sorcerer’s garb intimidate the mundane. “Come,” Jarek encouraged, motioning the lad to come join him, “I wish you no ill. I’m simply eager to be on my way.”

The young porter approached, his dread obvious, as if some horrific spell was about to be cast upon him. “Apologies, Magus, but me fears it’ll be some time yet afore the boys be reaching your things.”

“So be it,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Secure them on deck once they’re finally recovered. I’m going ashore to bide my time. I shall return anon to fetch them.”

“Yes, Magus.” Looking relieved, the young swab scurried away.

Jarek scanned the town, hoping to spot some worthwhile means of passing time. Row upon row of merchant shoppes dotted the harborside, their open doors welcoming patrons. Cobbled alleyways parceled the town into sections. Haphazard rows of wattle-roofed crucks filled the area behind the shoppes, likely the abodes of the locals. The dawn sky glowed a soft orange above them. A sheriff’s man bedecked in intimidating armor, sword at his side, strode among them, his presence assuring peace in a place that otherwise might be lawless mayhem. Ever were port cities dangerous.

Although Portsmouth bustled with commerce, it would get little of his coin. His plan was to head inland as soon as possible and begin his search for his nephew. He shook his head, still struggling to grasp the idea of having kin again. With his parents’ passing and his sister’s disappearance, the idea of having family seemed a treasure forever lost. To learn his sister had birthed a son on this remote island was almost unfathomable. But that’s what the document proclaimed. Only a fool questioned the veracity of a Royal Library scroll.

He descended the gangplank and was heading toward town when he spied two oddly dressed sailors coming his way. Draped in fur with animal bones dangling from their long blonde locks, they looked fearsome. “Sirs,” he hailed as they approached, “perchance could you tell me where I might hire a coach?”

They stopped. The larger of the two eyed Jarek’s purse. “Taka penningr?” he asked of his companion.

But it was Jarek’s robes that had the second one’s attention. “Æva, dāræ!” he said with a shake of his head. “Man hafa feldr síða!” The two scurried away, as if something of greater import had suddenly arisen.

A voice from behind startled him. “They were about to rob you, sir.” Jarek turned to find a portly young man with unruly brown hair sitting atop a wagon, holding its reins. “But fearing you might be a witch, they sought easier prey.”

“You understood them?”

The lad shrugged. “Enough to grasp their meaning. They were speaking Nosarian—one of many tongues you’ll hear on these docks.”

“And how is it you understand Nosarian?”

“My father’s a merchant. As a boy, I travelled many lands and learned many tongues—a necessity if one wishes to successfully trade.”

“I am in awe of your skill, young man.” He glanced toward the town, “Direct me someplace where I might secure a carriage inland and I’d be even more impressed.”

“That would be the carriage post, sir. It’s next to the livery.”

“Ah, I see. And where, exactly, would the livery be?”

“How daft of me. Of course, a stranger wouldn’t know that either.” He looked toward town. “The post isn’t far. I could take you thither if you’d like.” He scooted over, making room for Jarek. “Just be aware, my comfortless wagon is hardly a proper conveyance for a Royal Magus.”

Jarek had said nothing of his rank, yet the lad knew. How? There was more to this young man than met the eye. “Our meeting wasn’t accidental, was it?”

“I… a… no Sir. I saw your robes as you walked down the gangplank. Knowing only Royal Magi wear black with a red sigil, I wanted to meet you.”

“How is it you know so much about the magi?” he asked, climbing aboard.

“I once studied to be one.”

Jarek had forgotten the island had an Arts school. “You’re full to the top of surprises, aren’t you? May I know your name?”

“It’s Hagley, Sir.”

“Well met, Hagley,” he said, settling beside him. “I’m Magus Jarek Verity, and as you so astutely observed, a sorcerer of the court. So, where did you study, and why aren’t you wearing robes?”

The spark left the lad’s his eyes. “At the island’s arts university. They refused me my robes because I failed in both my trials. Now, instead of being the university’s student, I’m its wagoner.”

“Failed them twice, eh? Are you aware you can have a third test if circumstance warrants it?”

The young man shrugged. “I guess mine didn’t warrant it.”

“Where is this university of yours?”

“Just outside of Stalwart. I’ll return there once I finish my errands,” he said, spurring the horses forward.

Soon they were among the shoppes. The rankness of fresh blood assaulted Jarek’s senses as they passed a butcher’s shoppe, replaced by the even more offensive fetor of a fishmonger’s stall. Next came the livery stable, and finally the carriage post. Hagley let him out and went on about his business.

Jarek headed inside. A grizzled-looking fellow stood behind the counter poring over a stack of journals. He glanced up, eyeing Jarek. “Yes?”

“How soon is the next carriage to Stalwart?”

“It just left. It’ll return by nightfall, but won’t leave again until the morrow,” he said, returning his attention to his journals.

“Hells! Surely there’s another carriage?”

The clerk glanced up from his journal, looking indignant. “You’re no longer on the mainland, Sir. We islanders number few. Two carriages a day would not be...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 22.5.2020
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Fantasy / Science Fiction ► Fantasy
• ISBN-10: 1-0983-0936-7 / 1098309367
• ISBN-13: 978-1-0983-0936-7 / 9781098309367