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MY ASARIA - HEROES OF THE PROPHECY



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MY ASARIAóHEROES 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

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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 oneís 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 groupís 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 tribeís 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 fatherís back and slipped from his grasp to fall to the ground, dead. Despite the tribesmanís 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 friendsí 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 captainís 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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