The Kingdom of Shadows: Book 1 Shadows' Fall (Shadows' Fall, 1, Band 1) - Softcover

Griffis, Jared

Softcover

ISBN 10: 1440198942 ISBN 13: 9781440198946

Verlag: iUniverse, 2010

Inhaltsangabe

"I'm going to kill the king." A formidable nation is being destroyed by corruption at its very foundation. While clans, guilds, and cults tear at each other for control of the senate, the king rules through manipulation and fear, driven only to expand his power by any means possible. When the reckless bounty hunter Kellson is convicted of crimes he didn't commit, he escapes but he's determined to bring down the king and his decaying government. Running from the authorities, Kellson stumbles into a world thought only to be legend - a world of Shadows, an infamous clan of warriors who oppose corruption in any form. Known for their elite skills as fighters and infiltrators, they take in Kellson and begin to teach him their secret skills as insurgents. But Kellson has a bigger plan; he intends to lead a rebellion...if he can master the Shadows' skills and convince them to join him.

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Jared Griffis fell in love with fantasy and the science fiction genre at an early age. He began writing this novel at the age of eleven and finished a rough draft shortly after his fifteenth birthday. He lived in Houston with his mother, father, and two brothers before his death in January 2008.

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The Kingdom Of Shadows

Book 1 Shadows' FallBy Jared Griffis

iUniverse, Inc.

Copyright © 2010 Jared Griffis
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4401-9894-6

Chapter One

Nine years later ...

Offir shaded his eyes and looked across the rolling, springtime plains. The scent of wildflowers permeated the air. A creek ran past, gurgling contentedly, and young jackrabbits dashed across the lush meadow, always on the lookout for greener grass. This beauty was lost upon him as he strode past, pausing only to spit in the glittering, crystal water. He had a job to do.

A ruffian by nature, he prided himself in being a backstabber, thief, and drunkard. This did not mean he was not smart; on the contrary, his trademark cunning mind had always served him well. Strong, fast, and with good instincts, he outmatched and outfought everyone he met ... when he was sober. His skills had led him to create and rule his own gang, the Eternal Blades. Though thousands of miniature mobs such as his existed throughout Allysis, less than a fraction of them were successful and even fewer sent a representative to the Senate. A king ruled Allysis, holding the position of complete ruler. However, early on in its history, as citizens became dissatisfied with the monarchy, some began to form clans. They started with families, then families and close friends, and soon, anyone who wished to join was accepted, no questions asked. Since then, cults, clans, guilds, gangs, clubs, cliques, bands and other varyingly named groups of people had floated to power, only to later drift back down. Very few stayed at the top of the ladder, but the Eternal Blades were so entrenched in the top echelons of power that to remove them would have required a miracle. (Many clans tended to have overly creative names that the originators thought sounded interesting.) Offir's men were just like he was, especially in moral code. They were made up of deserters from the King's Army, former assassins, and remenants of disbanded clans, to name a few. They numbered over nine hundred at last count. Offir was their chief, and no one questioned his leadership. He sent word through his network to all his gang captains, to the ends of the Kingdom and beyond. The officers were to assemble in the town of Tirann to meet a man who said he had a job for them. Offir fingered his sword hilt with anticipation and walked on.

When he reached the gate, he met no guards-not surprising. In such a city of crime as this, there was no point; and besides, the watchmen on duty took so many bribes that it defeated the entire principle of watching. He smirked and pushed the doors open, sauntering in. Was he not the strongest of leaders? The King himself wouldn't dare attempt to fight his formidable clan, and the King commanded a huge army. When life is good, you deserve to be confident. He swirled his blue cape about him as he strode down the long street.

Beggars constituted at least half of the city's populace, but most wouldn't bother armed men. "Please, my lord, just a few coins, for my daughter?" a disheveled man pleaded, cradling a sad-eyed child of surely no more than five years of age.

He kicked the pauper out of the way as he walked to the Knife's Edge Tavern, leaving the crumpled man groaning in the dust and the little girl kneeling beside him. Dust plumed around Offir's cape as he opened the door of the bar and swaggered inside.

The tavern was filled with people, unsavory types for the most part. A grizzled old bartender was leaning on the edge of the counter, polishing a beer glass with a rag. Offir strolled up to him, casually resting his hand on his long hunting knife.

The bartender squinted through a mess of gray hair at the clan chief. "What can I do fer ye, eh?" he wheezed.

"Where's the man who came here before me who had a blue cape like mine?" Offir asked, his tone an even mix of contempt and arrogant boredom. "He has red hair, maroon eyes, bad temper ..."

The bartender nodded, "Oh, that bloke. 'E came about four hours 'go, arsked for someone that 'as a blue cape and black hair ... ah, you, I would imagine, eh? 'E's down in the basement with 'is friends. Turned as red as a tomato, E did."

Offir pushed past the bartender, tossing him a coin. "Don't you or anyone else go down there."

The old man hurried after him. "Uh, well, there are a few people down there, who rent out rooms ..."

Offir turned on his heel and snarled, pointing the knife in the barkeeper's face, "Then get them out of there, muckhead. We need to be alone, d'ya hear? Alone!"

The bartender hastily scrambled down the stairs. Offir drummed his fingers on the countertop in impatience as some men came out, thoroughly disgruntled. The old man came back up, gasping and holding his side.

"Whew, not as young as I used to be, eh? That should be all of-"

Offir cut him off. "Shut up. Don't go back down there until I leave."

Without another word, he strode down the stairs, his cape billowing behind him.

* * *

Anger poured off Quent Bluddman. The big man paced up and down the torch lit room in front of the seated captains of Eternal Blades, muttering under his breath. "Need food and shelter for the boys what came with ... why won't he hurry up? Late as usual ..."

Offir burst in with a flamboyant swish of his beautiful cobalt cape. "It's not that I'm late, it's that you're early, Bluddman. I said I'd be here by seven o'clock, and here I am."

Quent rushed to greet his leader. "Chief! Thank the stars, I was about to have to go buy spirits from the old coot up there, and the ale here is awful!"

Offir rolled his eyes. "Sometimes I wonder if you are really as stupid as you sound. When did the man say he would be here?"

The second-in-command shrugged. "He said seven o'clock. He should be here."

"Well, he's not. Unless he's invisible, he ain't here."

They waited for an hour until Offir began to lose his patience. He and his subordinates went upstairs to get drinks. No one noticed a dark shadow flitting past them.

They sat down at a table and waited for something to happen, guzzling down their ale. "How do we know this 'business employer' isn't part of the Kingdom?" Krake, the commander of the archers, timidly asked his angry leader. "Or what if he is part of the Shadows?"

"The Kingdom only put a price on our heads because they're too scared to come and get us!" Quent said. "And if it is a Shadow, we can put paid to him quick enough."

Offir scanned the tables around them ignoring his men, Lackeys, fools and bumblers, the lot of them, he thought to himself. They couldn't kill a defenseless child if they had twice their number to help. They needed him. He guzzled down two pints in quick succession as he looked at the bar's inhabitants. A soothsayer was in the corner, giving advice to a nervous looking merchant. Some gruff-looking trappers were talking to the old bartender. A group of the local militia was sitting a few tables away playing dice. A man, hooded and cloaked in black, was sitting by a table next to Offir's own.

None of these people could be a threat ... but the cloaked man gave him a slight shiver of apprehension. Cloakers, they were called. They could be anyone, so long as they used cloaks and hoods to disguise their identity. Every few moments the man would turn and look at Offir and his clan members. Offir couldn't see the man's face, but he knew the cloaker could hear every word they said. Offir got up and walked over to the strange...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: iUniverse
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2010
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 1440198942
• ISBN 13: 9781440198946
• Einband: Taschenbuch
• Anzahl der Seiten: 256
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: Nicht verfügbar
• Verantwortliche Person: gpsr@libri.de; gpsr@libri.de; ; Europaallee 1; Bad Hersfeld; 36244; Deutschland