Sam J. Charlton
Epic, Magical Fantasy
The Children of Isador
The Children of Isador
Sam J. Charlton
Published by Equilibrium Books, Australia
ISBN 978-1-920764-93-7
Come my children and I will tell you a tale
Of men of old and their fortunes foul and fair;
Of the nameless land far-off to the South
And of the evil residing there;
Dark times they were, for centuries of war
Had fragmented this noble land;
Each race distrusted its neighbour,
Ignoring the peril at hand;
The cruel shadow did lengthen,
Over continent did creep;
For darkness thrives in darkness,
Beware where malice sleeps
Synopsis
A fragile peace has long reigned upon the great continent of Isador, but as a shadow of conflict falls over his homeland, Jennadil Silvernstern, a shiftless wizard with a greater love of women and the good life rather than wizardry, must rediscover both his courage and talent in order to save his home.
When Isador’s southern coastline falls to the Morg, savage invaders from an unknown land to the south, the people of Isador must unite or become slaves to a new order.
An unlikely hero, Jennadil has little choice but to join a courageous group planning a perilous quest into the heart of occupied territory. Certain that his decision will end his life, he soon comes to realize that his personal fate matters very little in the end, for if they fail to stop the Morg and the evil warlock who leads them, Isador will fall into darkness forever.
Excerpt from the Prologue:
Ill Tidings
The servant hurried through Serranguard's airless corridors, nearly causing the torch he grasped to gutter and die, such was his haste to reach his lord's chambers. The evidence he had been instructed to find had finally presented itself. Hugo hoped Lord Brin would not be so consumed by rage after viewing the evidence that he would forget the promotion he had promised. Hugo allowed himself a cunning smile as he reached the heavy wooden door and knocked. Such a meteoric rise from dogsbody to the Lor'ds chamberlain would allow him to harass any of the serving wenches he pleased from now on.
"Enter!" The City-Lord's flinty voice brought Hugo back to the present. He felt a twinge of fear. He hoped Lord Brin was not the type to shoot the messanger. Ambition over-rode good sense however and Hugo pushed the door open.
"Milord," at the sight of Theo Brin sitting on a chair directly opposite the door, watching him under heavy lids like a malevolent toad, Hugo decided it was better to come straight to the point. "Lady Myra and Jennadil...I've seen them together...in private milord."
The heavy lidded eyes widened and something dark moved in their depths.
"Where are they?" Lord Brin spoke slowly, deliberately. His voice was calm, betraying no inner emotion.
"I saw them go into the wizard's chambers milord," Hugo replied, suddenly wishing he had not been spying on
Theo heaved himself off the chair. Standing, he looked less toad-like and more threatening. His robes swished against the stone floor as he moved with surprising spped towards the open door.
Hugo watched his master leave and hoped, once again, that Theo was a man who kept his promises.
The Orinians Unite
Will Stellan was awake long before the first rays of sun peeked over the tops of the grassy hills to the east. He had awoken tired with a slight headache and eyes stinging from fatigue. He felt as if he had not slept at all. It was difficult to sleep easy these days, not with Isador in the midst of war. He had lain awake for hours in the stuffy darkness inside his tent, mulling over things until his brain hurt. Finally, he pushed aside the rough blanket covering him and sat up fully clothed. There was no point staying in bed if he was going to lie there worrying himself to death.
Will emerged from his tent and rubbed sleep from his eyes. His gaze scanned the eastern horizon where the first rays of light were slipping over the edge of the world. Beyond those hills lay the dark mass of Gremul. The vast forest carpeted the entire eastern side of Isador - from the Ennadil border in the south to the Sawtooth Mountains in the far north. It was late summer but the morning was cool. Dew lay thick on the grass beneath Will's boots and there was a pleasant sting to the air. Will yawned and shook off the tiredness which still fogged his brain. He drank deeply from a bladder of stale water and massaged a tense muscle in his left shoulder before turning away from the sunrise.
He was camped on the top of a hillock. Around him, a sea of weather-stained tents made of animal hide stretched for as far as he could see in every direction. It was a makshift city of ten thousand men. Not nearly enough. Wisps of smoke, the dying embers of last night's campfires, dirtied the lightening sky. Will savoured the peace, his mind returning, not for the first time in the past month, to how it had all come to this.
Excerpt from Chapter Two:
The Last Stand of the Ennadil
Lassendil Florin stood at the top of the castle walls and watched the sunset. He had not done so for a while, not since the Morg had invaded. Of late there had been no time to enjoy sunsets and sunrises, or to note the passing of the seasons. These days smoke stained the morning and evening sky and a shadow had fallen over this once serene and verdant land. However, this sunset held special poignancy for Lassendil for it would be the last before the Morg attacked Aranith – the last stronghold of the Ennadil – their last chance.
Lassendil watched the light fade. Aranith glowed pink in the dusk. Its walls were made of a rose limestone. It had been built in tiers, rising up from a wooded plain to a turreted fortress at its crown. Aranith’s beauty, like all things built by Ennadil hands, was famed throughout Isador. From a distance the city resembled a magnificent pink wedding cake, thrusting skywards from a bed of green. Lassendil tried not to think about the fate that awaited this city. A dull ache twisted somewhere between his stomach and ribcage. He was under no illusions about their ability to hold Aranith against the Morg. No army had ever breached Aranith’s walls, but then the Ennadil had never fought such a powerful enemy.
MAP OF ISADOR
Isador is a vast continent surrounded by a largely uncharted ocean. Far to the south lies another land (home of the warlike Morg) while far to the west legend speaks of another continent, said to be the homeland of the Ennadil and the Orinians. The Ennadil Territory covers the south-western reaches of the continent. The Ennadil citadels of Mithridel and Aranith are famed throughout Isador for their beauty and as centres of culture and learning. The Ennadil are ruled by the Elder Council - a select group of Ennadil aristocracy. The border-town of Valdorn links the Ennadil Territory with the City-States of Orin. The west bank is occupied by Ennadil and the east by Orinians; the two sides are linked by a great stone bridge with toll gates at each end. There are three Orinian City-States named after the fortresses controlling the surrounding lands: Serranguard, Falcon's Mount and Mirren. Each are ruled by an elected City-Lord. Theoretically, the City-States of Orin are one entity but historically each has prefered to remain autonomous. Another human race, the Tarantel, populate an archipelago of islands in a gulf off Isador's south-eastern coast. To the east, live the Gremul; tree-dwelling tribal creatures who rarely venture from the great Forest of Gremul. Isador's last race, the Tarzark, control Isador's north-east corner. The Tarzark Kingdom is a barren wasteland isolated from the rest of the continent by the jagged spine of the SawTooth Mountains. The Tarzark King resides in Hull Mutt - the famed and feared Tarzark stronghold which grasps skyward like a menacing black claw. Despite the arid landscape, the Tarzark flourish, their fortresses built on top of springs which irrigate the surrounding landscape and make survival in such an inhospitable land possible.
Coming soon ...
A Brief History of the Continent
Isador's People
Profile of Main Characters
