The
Children of Never
The
War Priests of Andrak Saga Book 1
by
Christian Warren Freed
Genre:
Epic Fantasy
The
war priests of Andrak have protected the world from the encroaching
darkness for generations. Stewards of the Purifying Flame, the
priests stand upon their castle walls each year for 100 days. Along
with the best fighters, soldiers, and adventurers from across the
lands, they repulse the Omegri invasions.
But
their strength wanes and evil spreads.
Lizette
awakens to a nightmare, for her daughter has been stolen during the
night. When she goes to the Baron to petition aid, she learns that
similar incidents are occurring across the duchy. Her daughter was
just the beginning. Baron Einos of Fent is left with no choice but to
summon the war priests.
Brother
Quinlan is a haunted man. Last survivor of Castle Bendris, he now
serves Andrak. Despite his flaws, the Lord General recognizes Quinlan
as one of the best he has. Sending him to Fent is his best chance for
finding the missing children and restoring order. Quinlan begins a
quest that will tax his strength and threaten the foundations of his
soul.
The
Grey Wanderer stalks the lands, and where he goes, bad things follow.
The dead rise and the Omegri launch a plan to stop time and overrun
the world. The duchy of Fent is just the beginning.
Baron Einos awoke to unfamiliar sensations. Cold, almost
unbearable, filled his bedchambers. Winter was a memory and spring well
underway. This southern duchy was well south of the northern ice flows and far
enough east of the Barbacus River to avoid the heavy winds. A thick blanket and
small fire in the hearth were more than sufficient for keeping Einos warm
throughout the shortening nights.
The Baron wiped the crud from the corners of his eyes,
yawned, and sat up. His bearskin blanket fell away, exposing his naked chest.
Young for one of the ruling class, Einos was broad across the shoulders and
slabbed with muscle. His sand colored hair draped across his shoulders. Bright
green eyes scanned the chamber.
His wife, still sleeping, shifted beside him and exhaled
deeply. Einos resisted the urge to rouse her, at least until he was satisfied
nothing was amiss. Not finding anything of concern in the immediate area, he
slipped from the bed and donned a thick robe that fell to the floor. The fire
had gone out, leaving the chamber in darkness. Frowning, Einos reached for the
short sword he kept beside the bed. Fent was a relatively peaceful duchy, but
one does not rise to power without creating enemies capable of extreme
violence.
He took a step, then a strange noise froze him in
midstride. Einos gripped his sword tighter. “Who goes?”
The sound of sobbing returned. Einos frowned, certain
he’d heard a child. There were numerous children in the keep, though none his
own. Aneth, his wife of nearly a decade, was heavy with child and due by the
end of spring. He suspected the draft coming through the cracks in the walls
provided the strange sounds, but one could never be too cautious.
Einos fumbled for a match and lit the candle nearest his
bed. Soft light turned his bedchamber into a shadowed realm. Einos remained
still, listening against the dark. His efforts were rewarded by uncontrollable
sobbing coming from the far corner. Sword in one hand, candle the other, the
Baron of Fent took a step closer to the sound.
His exposed toes kicked the chamber pot, spilling old
piss over his foot. Einos snarled a curse and kept going as the sobbing intensified.
A wall of light crept across the stone floor until it reached the huddled
figure of a young child. Einos cocked his head as he tried to get a clear view
of the face. Knees drawn with arms wrapped around them, the child, a girl by
the length of her hair, had her face buried.
“Child, why are you here? Who let you in?” he asked, his
normally rough voice softened so as not to frighten her further.
The sobbing increased as the girl lowered a fist and
began pounding on the floor.
Einos, concerned, set the candle on the nearest table and
crouched. “There is no need for that. You are safe here. Tell me your name,
child.”
Curls fell over her shoulders as the young girl lifted
her head and turned to face him. Einos tripped and fell backwards as he gazed
upon what remained of her face. Both eyes were gone. Dried blood streaked down
her cheeks.
She reached a hand for him and cried, “Why did I have to
die?”
The girl screamed. The candle flickered, then went out,
leaving the lord of Fent alone in the darkness. Einos scrambled back and
managed to light the candle after several tries. When he cast the light into
the corner, he found only stone. The girl, if she had ever been, was gone.
Christian
W. Freed was born in Buffalo, N.Y. more years ago than he would like
to remember. After spending more than 20 years in the active duty US
Army he has turned his talents to writing. Since retiring, he has
gone on to publish 17 military fantasy and science fiction novels, as
well as his memoirs from his time in Iraq and Afghanistan. His first
published book (Hammers in the Wind) has been the #1 free book on
Kindle 4 times and he holds a fancy certificate from the L Ron
Hubbard Writers of the Future Contest.
Passionate
about history, he combines his knowledge of the past with modern
military tactics to create an engaging, quasi-realistic world for the
readers. He graduated from Campbell University with a degree in
history and is pursuing a Masters of Arts degree in Military History
from Norwich University. He currently lives outside of Raleigh, N.C.
and devotes his time to writing, his family, and their two Bernese
Mountain Dogs. If you drive by you might just find him on the porch
with a cigar in one hand and a pen in the other.
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