My Asaria preview

book preview of My Asaria heroes of the prophecy


 


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MY ASARIA –
HEROES OF THE PROPHECY



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MY ASARIA—HEROES OF THE PROPHECY

When the hearts of men are
corrupted, who shall fight the evil that broods in them?

Who shall stay pure and fight for love and
freedom?

There are those who will and when Asaria is
suddenly cast into this desperate battle of good and evil she must fight
alongside those that share her mysterious power and her strength of will and
determination for justice.

The very kingdoms of good are
threatened by a new evil that infects the land like a plague and Asaria and her
comrades must defend their lands against these creatures evil of heart and
intent on death.

In Store Price: $26.00 

Online Price:   $25.00

ISBN:
1-9210-0521-1


Format: A5 Paperback

Number of pages:
317


Genre: Fiction

Cover: Clive Dalkins

Author:
Tobiah Booth-Remmers 

Imprint: Poseidon

Publisher: Poseidon Books
Date Published:  2004

Language: English

HOME PAGE

Prophecy of the Gods

In
time there will be born

One
who is equal to us,

One
who will wield power to surpass,

Tragedy
will fall before,

The
one can prevail,

War
will be upon our lands,

 The fate of us all in the one’s hands,

But
before the task is done,

Death
will come,

But
life and power shall be found,

To
fight the evil,

That
will reveal,

Itself
in our world,

Good
or evil, which will be
foiled?

 

Biography:  

Tobiah
was born in Victoria in 1988. He was home educated until the family moved to
South Australia in 1997 when he entered primary school, attending an alternative
school in the Adelaide Hills. Here he realised his passion for fantasy and ever
since he has been reading fantasy novels. It became his dream to have a book
published. Having reached this monumental goal he plans to create many more
novels for the reading pleasure of the whole world.

Tobiah
also plays African drums and plans to go to Antarctica in the near future.

World
domination also plays a large part in his sinister plans!

1

Somewhere
in a forest

 

Silence reigned across the forest, the trees
swayed in a gentle breeze that flew through the dark night sky; the moon was
full, casting off a pale, eerie light that illuminated a number of shadowy
figures moving across the forest floor. None of them made a sound, dressed in
dark clothes they were almost invisible in the night, moving from tree to tree
with unearthly stealth.

A bird rustled the branches above as it took
off in search of food. The figures froze, their faces looking upwards, scanning
the treetops for the source of the movement. There was nothing to be seen, and
so with a discreet hand movement and a whisper from the group’s leader, they
continued.

It was midnight before they stopped. Wood was
quickly gathered for a fire and food prepared for cooking, blankets were laid
out on the forest floor, and the children rested in theirs while they waited for
their food. Once cooked, it was spooned into bowls carved from wood and shared
out amongst the group, and everybody started eating.

Only hours later found them awake again. The
sun was making an appearance over the horizon and yet it was too late to catch
them packing and by the time shafts of it broke through the thick canopy above
they were already on the move, running along the forest floor with ease.

Further back in the forest however, another
group followed them. They had not slept. Their heavy boots cracked twigs and dry
leaves, and they did not care for silence. Their leather armour and light
weapons allowed them to move fast. These men were specially trained by the
kingdom to hunt down the tribes of natives that roamed the land, and that the
king so hated for some reason. They were expert trackers, picking up the
slightest sign of their quarry and yet they were having trouble tracking these
people, so adapt to the woods were they that not a trace was left for the
trackers to follow.

Up ahead the tribe’s leader put his ear to the
ground, and his face turned to fear, their pursuers had once again gained on
them. He shouted, no longer caring for silence, speed was their only hope of
survival. The tribe broke out into a run, however, they were hampered by the
children and would inevitably be caught by their pursuers if they did not reach
the safety of the mountains first.

They did not stop that night, the children
were carried by the men, whom were already weary and could hardly bear the extra
weight. They neither stopped to eat nor rest. The forest flew by them, the
beautiful colours and formations going unnoticed to their eyes. The air grew
colder as they steadily ran towards their destination.

Day came and yet no rest was taken. The
trackers had gained once again and were now in sight of their quarry, their bows
were strung, arrows fitted and fired. The tribe tried to increase their speed as
arrows thudded into the ground next to and around them. Lungs burned for air,
eyes watered, hearts pounded, but they could not keep up the pace. A father
burdened by his daughter began to struggle.                                                                                                                                    

Suddenly the girl screamed as she was hit by an arrow, she went limp
against her father’s back and slipped from his grasp to fall to the ground,
dead. Despite the tribesman’s yells of warning the father stopped and ran back
to his child, he picked her up and slung her over his back. He turned and
started to run again, but then he also fell as an arrow thudded into his neck.

Arrows flew through the air even as the
stragglers fell to the swords of their enemy, the able bodied men kept up the
pace, but their families fell around them, they were helpless to prevent the
merciless slaughter that was taking place. Soon filled with rage, the remaining
men, women and children turned to meet their pursuers and enemy.

They had stumbled into a clearing and the men
and women now formed a circle around their children. Their bows were quickly
strung and a small hail of arrows hit the first of the enemy as they charged
into the clearing, but only a few of them fell, the tough leather armour that
they wore was too strong for the tribes hunting bows.

The men brandished their sharpened sticks,
hunting spears, it was their only weapon, and they yelled and shouted at their
enemy, threats and pleas. Raw fury pumped through their bodies, fear deserted
them and they charged the oncoming enemy, but there was nothing that their
hunting spears could do, and they fell to bow and sword alike. Some hurled their
spears like javelins and felled three of their enemy, not enough. Soon the
adults were dead.

The children stood crying, cursing the evil
men for hurting their families, but not old enough to know that they were really
dead. Fathers, mothers, brothers and sisters lay strewn around the clearing,
dead; their blood stained the lush green grass.

The enemy looked at the children, this time a
second thought was given noticeably as to whether they should kill, despite
having orders to.  Then the captain
arrived, his stature was bigger and taller than that of his comrades. His
muscles showed as he walked into the clearing, leisurely cleaning the blood off
his sword. He stopped and looked up from the sword at his men, wondering why
they delayed.

He shouted at them in a harsh language when he
saw why, and the men drew their bows, and loosed their arrows into the children,
they fell, utterly defenceless, but one stood in the middle, a blue orb
surrounding her shaking body.

The men stood staring at her, fear and awe
playing across their stony features, but the captain laughed, he reached
forward, his face leering, with evil and cruelty in his eye. He shoved his arm
through the glistening substance and seized the girl, slinging her over his
shoulder. He shouted at his men who turned and followed him out of the clearing,
leaving the dead tribesmen as well as their own dead, for the carrion to feed
on.

However, another child was still alive, lying
under his friends’ dead bodies, he breathed deeply, trying to quell the nausea
that was welling inside him. He rose, gently pushing the dead aside, tears
welled in his eyes and he had to sit so as not to throw up. However, the nausea
was thrust aside by the anger and hatred which suddenly burned in him, and he
seized one of the spears and ran after the retreating enemy.

The Tribehunters as they were called; walked
leisurely back the way they had come, passing the father and daughter and
laughing.

The boy passed them, not minutes later, his
knees went weak and his stomach lurched at the gruesome sight. He stumbled on as
fast as he could and soon he could see the backs of the last Tribehunters, the
boy slowed down then, and snuck along quietly, he came within range of one of
the men and took aim.                                                                      

The girl, crying on the captain’s back,
looked to where her tribe lay dead, but instead she was startled to see one of
the Tribehunters lying on the ground, a spear quivering in his back and a boy
running into the forest, she gasped and then smiled through her tears.

 

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