Sneak peek at The Citadel of Lies

The final edits and polish are being made to The Citadel of Lies (Book Two of the

Palâdnith Chronicles). The  final stages before publication are an exciting period for an author. The long months of edits are over - the rewrites, exasperation, and even more rewrites, are done. Now its about making the novel shine. For those of you who are patiently waiting - your wait is almost over! In the meantime, I have pasted in the Prologue of The Citadel of Lies into this blog post, to whet your appetite!

If you enjoy the Prologue and would like to read more, but haven't yet read the first book in the series, here's a link to it on Amazon: Journey of Shadows (Book One of the Palâdnith Chronicles) - available in Kindle edition (US$2.99) or in paperback (US$10.44).

As the theme of this book centres of the difference between truth and lies, the tale begins with a quote from the great Marcus Aurelius. 

The

Citadel

of

Lies

Book Two of the Palâdnith Chronicles

Sam J. Charlton

Everything we hear is an opinion, not a fact.

Everything we see is a perspective, not the truth.

Marcus Aurelius

Prologue

The Messenger

  “My Queen, I bring news.”

The voice rasped, breaking the endless silence.

“Obviously, or you wouldn’t be here. Tell me, have my servants succeeded?”

The woman’s gaze slid over the ravaged creature that bowed before her. Like the others, he would serve her till she chose to free him. Although she could not communicate directly with the four she had sent out through the portal, the others here could share their thoughts. They were one entity, the keepers – and now they served only her.

The keeper before her cringed and stepped back from his mistress before replying.

“The brothers still elude their hunters.”

The woman frowned.

“How is that possible?” she enunciated each word carefully, as if speaking to a half-wit. “How have three creatures, bred for one purpose only, failed me?”

“They have not failed you yet mistress. The youngest of the three brothers escaped on horseback. He travelled inland and entered the Valley of the Tors, where the Malwagen took him captive. There, your servant could not reach him. He managed to escape the sprites, and his hunter has now tracked him to Mirfaran. The assassin sent after the weaponsmith travelled to Catedrâl, only to find his quarry three days gone – he now tracks him through the Rocklands towards Tarras. The eldest brother survived two attacks during his journey west, before he met with Floriana DeSanith on the road across the High Dragon Spines. She has given him courage and purpose.”

The messenger’s voice trailed off then, watching as his mistress’s face grew thunderous.

“I gave my own blood to create those creatures,” she hissed, her eyes narrowing into slits, “and they cannot catch three unsuspecting and untrained men!”

“There is still time my Queen! Your servants close in, even as we speak. They will not fail you.”

The woman clenched her fists and waited for her murderous rage to pass.

“They had better not. What news of my fourth servant. Has he found it yet?”

“Not yet my Queen. He searches still, but it has been hidden well.”

“Over two decades in that place and still no closer to retrieving it – I am very disappointed in you all.”

The servant quivered, but wisely kept silent.

The woman waved him away.

“Leave me. I cannot stand the sight of any of you!”

The messenger shuffled back, bowing so low that his knuckles scraped on the damp stone. Relieved to have survived the encounter, the creature stepped onto a rope bridge that creaked under his weight, and hurried away.

Riadamor, Queen of Moden sighed. She suddenly felt old and weary beyond description. She looked about her with disdain. What a foul domain she ruled. Three decades of residence in this wretched prison had not made her accept her fate.

She stood on the stone platform; the very place she and Belythna had awoken on the day of their arrival. It was the portal into Moden but in thirty years there had been no other newcomers – they had been the last.

It had been from this platform that she had sent her four servants forth. After years of experiment and failure, she had discovered that, unlike mortals, the Keepers of Moden could pass through the portal. The keepers she had chosen had not wanted to go, but torture had made them biddable. She had sent the first one out years ago, but had been forced to wait till the brothers’ Sentorân charms no longer protected them before she could send forth the others. It had taken a powerful spell, and much of her own blood, but she had eventually succeeded in transporting her servants out of Moden and into Palâdnith – the world she was desperate to return to.

In reality, the platform on which she stood was the flat top of a rock pillar that rose from the centre of the abyss and anchored a network of rope bridges. It was a solitary island of stone in an empty sea, and five paces from one side to the other.

Riadamor circled the platform, her long silver gown rustling as she strode. With Belythna dealt with – imprisoned in one of the many cells that lined the cavern walls – time stretched out with agonising slowness. Moden held her in stasis. She did not need to eat or sleep; she would never grow old or die. The boredom of her existence had almost broken her but still she fought it.

I will not be defeated, Riadamor vowed, my servants will do my bidding and I will leave this place.

The witch knelt then and placed her hands on the cold stone beneath her feet.

I came into Moden through this stone and I will leave the same way. 

Patience, my fellow epic fantasy adventure lovers - the rest is coming soon!

The main characters of the Palâdnith Chronicles: Seth, Eni and Val Falkyn

With the coming launch of  The Citadel of Lies - the second installment in the Palâdnith Chronicles - I thought was the right time to focus a little on the series' main characters: Seth, Eni and Val. 

Character development is the cornerstone of any good book - and the challenge with this series is that I have three main protagonists, who each have to carry equal weight. I enjoyed developing the brothers' characters, and making each one distinct. They ended up being very different, both in personality and in looks, to each other. The only feature they share in common is their eye colour - iron grey. When the series begins, the brothers have not seen each other in a decade, and did not part well. However, a family legacy is about to resurface that will pull their lives back together once more.

Seth Falkyn: The youngest of the three brothers - and many readers' favourite! Dark haired, good-looking and a bit of a shirker initially, Seth starts the series as a bankrupt marshal's Tower Guard. However, it's not long before he is forced to take life much more seriously - especially when he ends up on a run from an assassin...

Defining characteristics: Charming, likeable, realist
Greatest strength: bravery
Greatest fault: Insecurity

Eni Falkyn: The middle brother - a tall, muscular and a talented weaponsmith. Many readers don't fall in love with Eni initially, as he starts the series as a cold and driven individual. However, once he is sentenced to hang for a crime he did not commit, Eni begins a huge journey of discovery...

Defining characteristics: Driven, strong, aloof
Greatest strength: tenacity
Greatest fault: cynicism

Val Falkyn: The eldest brother - slim, blond and bookish. Val makes the most unlikely hero of the three. He starts the series as a reclusive, shy librarian, who is thrown into an adventure against his will, when his master sends him on a dangerous quest, he's far from prepared for...

Defining characteristics: sensitive, proud, willful
Greatest strength: intelligence 
Greatest fault: lack of self-belief
 
Intrigued? Join the brothers on a journey of discovery, danger and adventure. The first book in the series in available on Amazon (Kindle and paperback editions) and the second installment is due out this month - October 2013!

Journey of Shadows (Book One in the Palâdnith Chronicles) is available on Amazon (Kindle and paperback editions)

The Citadel of Lies (Book Two in the Palâdnith Chronicles) is due out this month (October 2013!). The novel is undergoing its final edit and polish. Watch this space!

LOTR Fan Fiction: The Witch of Angmar - Part #8

The Witch of Angmar

Legacy of the Fellowship

Part Eight

Dark Portents

                                                                                                                        

B

arandur looked down at the runes on his palm; nine smooth, engraved river stones that could tell him of the future.

Rose watched the seer curiously, and not without a large measure of suspicion. Hobbits, being practical and straight-forward folk, did not use runes, or visit seers. Their approach to the future was pragmatic. What would come, would come – that was what her parents had taught her – what was the point of going looking for it?

Rose glanced across at Peri and saw the scepticism on his face. In contrast, Salrean leant forward intently, her features tense with expectation. Ignoring them all, Barandur closed his eyes, murmured something under his breath and cast the runes across the top of the table before him.

The stones rattled and clicked as they scattered; some landing on their front, some on their backs, and some on their sides. Barandur’s face creased in a forbidding frown as he leant forward and studied the runes.

Despite that Rose shared Peri’s disbelief, she found herself holding her breath all the same.

Barandur studied the runes for long moments before he eventually straightened up. His gaze swept over each of his three visitors, resting briefly on each face as he measured, scrutinised and deliberated. Then, he shook his head.

“What do you see?” Salrean’s voice was barely above a whisper.  “Anything that could aid us?”

Barandur’s gaze fastened on the young female ranger and Rose saw, for the first time, a hint of tenderness and real concern there.

“If the runes are to be believed – which they are – then ‘tis folly to continue on this path. I suggest you end your journey at Farnost. Let the hobbits see your city and then send them home. Only darkness awaits you in Angmar.”

Silence followed Barandur’s proclamation – a heavy, chilling hush.

Rose slowly let out the breath she had been holding and glanced over at Salrean. Rather than appearing cowed by Barandur’s words, she was frowning, visibly irritated.

“I didn’t come here for vague words that mean nothing,” Salrean snapped. “I want the kind that can help us – like the secret way into Carn Dûm you’ve just told us about. Darkness of what sort exactly? I am aware that travelling to Angmar, retrieving the Red Book and slaying Morwyn won’t be easy. However, I plan to enlist help from my father’s rangers. We will not travel unprotected.”

Barandur shook his head, unmoved by her scorn.

“The runes say that only four of you shall enter Carn Dûm. Two shall enter via the front door and two by the back.”

Salrean’s frown deepened at that. “What else do they tell you?”

Barandur smiled thinly. “You are indeed your father’s daughter. Stubborn to a fault – and foolhardy.”

It was obvious to Rose that he had not meant his observation as a compliment.

When Salrean did not respond, Barandur glanced back at the runes, as if checking that he had read them correctly.

“The Red Book,” he spoke cautiously, weighing each word, “does indeed contain a secret… although ‘tis not what Morwyn, or your father, hope for. Nothing is what it seems. The book holds the key; history that has passed into myth; and things that should never have been forgotten, that have been – even by those who have kept the stories safe and listened to them at the fireside,”

Barandur’s gaze shifted to Rose then. She wilted under its intensity.

“In the end Rose Fairbairn of the Shire – ‘tis you who will play the greatest part in what is to come.”

***

Rose awoke to the sound of Barandur moving about the darkened room. Groggily, she sat up and glanced over at where Peri was already stirring. Even in the dim light, Rose could see that Peri’s face was rumpled with sleep, his eyes barely open. Nearby, Barandur was heating an iron griddle over the fire, while Salrean stood at a clay wash basin, splashing water over her face.

Getting to her feet, Rose stretched stiffly. They had bedded down on the floor on sacking, near one of the hearths, but the cold flagstones were little better than sleeping rough on the ground. Despite that she had been exhausted, Rose had slept fitfully – her thoughts dark and fearful.

She did not want the responsibility for the success of this quest on her shoulders. She wanted only to find her father’s killer and impale him on Sting’s blade, before bringing the Red Book home to the Tower Hills, where it belonged. She was only one female hobbit, and certainly not capable of stopping the Witch of Angmar, or the wars of goblins and men.

For the first time since the journey had begun, Rose truly regretted leaving the Shire. She was not made for adventures such as these.

Despite the fires burning in the hearths at opposite ends of the stone chamber, it was bone-chillingly cold inside. Barandur had rolled up the window’s leather covering, revealing a grey windy morning beyond. Rose sat on a crate, hunched in her cloak, brooding; her mood only improving when Barandur placed a string of sausages on the grill.

As the aroma of frying sausage filtered through the tower chamber, Rose slowly felt her thoughts drift from worries of what lay ahead, to her rumbling stomach. Like most hobbits, she found it difficult to dwell on her problems when anticipating a delicious meal. When Barandur started cracking eggs onto the griddle, Rose found her attention entirely focused on breakfast. Likewise, Peri had perked up. He gratefully received a mug of hot broth from Barandur, his gaze searching the seer’s rugged face.

“How do you survive here?” he asked. “If you don’t mind me asking?”

Barandur gave a grim smile before turning back to tend his frying eggs.

“A man with my skills can always make a living. The wealthier folk of Annúminas pay well to know what the runes say about their past, present and future.”

“But you didn’t charge Salrean anything.”

Barandur glanced back at Peri over his shoulder, and gave him a quelling look. “I’ve known Salrean since she was a babe. It would be like asking payment from family.”

“You are like an uncle to me,” Salrean admitted with a smile as she took a seat next to the fire. “A cantankerous one nonetheless.”

Barandur grunted before flipping the sausages and eggs onto wooden dishes.

“Better that than honeyed words used to hide foul thoughts and deeds,” he replied. “There are far too many folk like that in the world already. Why do you think I keep myself apart?”

With that the seer handed them their breakfasts and let his guests eat.

Later, Barandur accompanied Salrean, Rose and Peri as far as the outskirts of old Annúminas. The wind gusted across Lake Nenuial, rippling its dark surface, and drops of rain splattered against the dusty cobblestones. They made their way east, through a tangle of ruins, overgrown with shrubbery and encrusted with lichen.

Finally, the ruins drew back and the party reached the edge of dense woodland.

“Do you remember the path that leads east?” Barandur asked Salrean, pointing to a gap in the trees. “If you take it, it will save you at least a day’s journey.”

Salrean nodded wordlessly before smiling.

“Yes, I know it well.”

She turned to Barandur then, and he took her hands, squeezing them gently. His face then softened, making him appear at least a decade younger. Rose could see the affection in his gaze, though he tried to hide it.

“Good Salrean. I sometimes forget you know these lands almost as well as I do.”

“Better, I’d say.” Salrean replied, her voice teasing.

“Take care girl,” Barandur’s face grew serious. “The runes do not lie. I saw darkness and death. You are taking the hobbits to a place you may never return from. But remember, if you do travel to Angmar, the Red Book holds the key.”

“My father also believes the Red Book has the answer,” Salrean replied.

Her comment was a mistake, for at the mention of Rendur of Farnost, any softness vanished from Barandur’s face.

“Rendur, like Morwyn, seeks a way to dominate and rule, but they are both wrong in believing that the Red Book holds such secrets. It is a history written by hobbits that recounts the tale of how the One Ring of Power was found, kept safe and then destroyed by the most unlikely of individuals,” Barandur then turned to where Rose and Peri stood. “Hobbits,” he managed a tight smile, although his anger still simmered. “Once again, you are playing a part in the history of this world.”

“Nothing like Bilbo or Frodo did though,” Peri piped up, brushing his shaggy hair from his eyes as he tilted his chin to meet Barandur’s gaze. “This time our part is much smaller. In many ways, Rose and I are just bystanders.”

Barandur shook his head at this. “Hobbits will never be bystanders Pericles Took – you least of all.”

His gaze then swivelled to Rose. Despite herself, she cringed under his intensity. After last night, she wished only to be left alone.

Yet, Barandur had no such intentions. “You heard what I told you Rose. Of what is to come, one thing is certain – much will depend on you.”

“I don’t understand,” Rose blurted. “I didn’t come on this journey to do great deeds. I don’t think I’m capable of them. I’m doing this for my father – for my family.”

Barandur listened, his dark gaze unreadable.

“You’re capable of much more than you think,” he said quietly, “and there is much more than you realise at stake. Morwyn poses a great danger to Middle Earth, and she must be stopped,” the seer glanced at Salrean then, his dark gaze glittering. “Yet, it is folly to walk in to her den unprepared. The runes speak clearly. Darkness awaits you all in Carn Dûm.”

“I tire of hearing you repeat the same phrases,” Salrean cut in angrily, surprising them all with her vehemence. “If you have no further wisdom to impart, we must be away.”

The three companions set off east, along the narrow path through the forest. Barandur’s words hung heavily upon them all, but upon Rose the heaviest. Her shoulders felt bent over with the weight of it. Overhead, the spattering of rain drops increased to a steady drizzle, carried in by gusts of wind that caused the trees to creak and groan. It was the kind of weather that set one’s nerves on edge; the kind that makes you jump at the slightest noise in the undergrowth and causes you to constantly glance over your shoulder.

They had been travelling for just under an hour when Rose ran to catch Salrean up. The ranger strode ahead, her body tense with purpose. She had not spoken to Rose and Peri after she had snapped at Barandur. Rose decided it was high time she did.

“Salrean,” Rose panted, reaching the ranger’s side and jogging to keep up with her long stride. “Slow down a moment, I need to speak to you.”

Salrean glanced down at Rose, her face momentarily distracted, as if she had been lost in her thoughts. It was unlike the ranger Rose had observed on their journey from Hobbiton to Annúminas, who was always sharp and alert. For the first time, Rose had caught Salrean unawares – and caught a glimpse of the troubled woman beneath the cool façade.

Then, the mask snapped back into place and Salrean composed her features.

“Of course Rose, what is it?”

“Barandur’s warnings. Are you sure they haven’t made you rethink your plans? I mean, about our journey north?”

Salrean’s dark gaze held Rose’s for a few moments before the ranger shook her head.

“No, it hasn’t,” she replied firmly. “I cannot force you and Peri to travel with me. You can both turn back at any stage and I will not think any less of you.”

Rose was silent for a moment, as she continued to jog at Salrean’s side. “I might have done so before,” she admitted, “if the road became too dangerous and I lost all hope of finding my father’s killer, but I cannot now.”

Salrean’s gaze narrowed. “Why not? I wouldn’t be surprised after Barandur’s scaremongering, if you and Peri decided to return home…”

“Have you forgotten what Barandur said?” Rose replied, forcing more bravery in to her voice than she actually felt. “If I am to play an important part in what is to come – the way is not behind me, but ahead.”

End of Part #8

Be back for Part #9 on 11 October!