The Centre Vale
Book 1 Synopsis
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When leaving the valley and his brother behind, the Souls outside observe Hanor closely as he departs, recognising something in him never seen before. Drawn towards the Light of his awakened heart, They do not attack this time, convinced Their freedom is somehow linked to him. Not brave enough to cross the ridge and follow him, unable to see beyond its drop, a strange yearning to see Them free ignites in Hanor, wondering why. Utterly exhausted when returning to his awaiting companions, after sharing his remarkable tale and showing them the Stone, no one blames him for falling asleep even though those wretched Souls are still somewhere close.
Come morning however, a sense of urgency rises when Hanor explains the Souls could leave the valley if only They knew how. Horrified, Hallen leads the charge from that place, gaining an element of peace by the turn’s end when convinced the danger has passed. Now concentrating instead on any threat coming from the north, Hanor’s shocking statement the following day soon puts an end to such false relief, slicing the atmosphere with the words, “They have crossed the ridge.”
Desperately trying to flee, believing his warnings to be true, but Hanor’s request for them to stay their ground does little to persuade his companions. So ride hard they do towards The Five Passes, the high route that cuts through the curving Treman Mountain Chain surrounding Tardoc, the place they are heading. Desperate and wanting, but just as Hanor warned, the Souls eventually catch up and proceed to surround them. In a quandary, but again Hanor’s heightened senses come to the rescue, mildly convincing them that they will not be attacked this time. Explaining the Souls’ priority is freedom above anything else, it does little to soften the trembles of fear that evening when making camp.
Surprised at surviving the night, the Souls not attacking just as Hanor promised, what the group do notice is just how unstable their young companion is becoming, as if feeling compassionate towards their recently acquired foe. Increasingly worried, but the others have little choice but to trust his new level of understanding, deducing their survival may depend on it.
When the Souls stir as if in wild frenzy, they cannot help but fear the worst. Expecting to be attacked, when the Souls do surge, to their relief it is not at them. Just thankful to be free again, but Hanor’s deplorable reactions are a serious concern. Acting as if mourning the loss of loved ones, when he warns that people up ahead had been attacked, no one can sympathise with him, fearing for those instead who had been overcome.
Arriving at the deplorable setting, a few hundred darkened faces of foreign origin is the last thing they expect to see. Known to be Dortians from various descriptions heard by Tarmon, their contorted, horrified features prove just how terrified they must have been when attacked by the Souls. Here obviously for war, only Hanor remains saddened by the despicable scene, the others still very much alarmed by his unusual behaviour. Wondering if his stay in Yarmoria and the manner by which the Stone was retrieved was having a serious affect on him, problems seem to be increasing, problems like ‘What are Dortians doing this far South already?’
Deciding to get the Stone to Tardoc as quickly as possible, praying someone there will know what to do with it, they can only hope no other Dortians were in the vicinity. Too late to choose another route when darkness falls, the orange glow through the line of thick trees and bush ahead are accompanied by the low murmurings of thousands of voices, worryingly so. Aghast when told by a returning Kifter that they had somehow slipped through the outer line of scouts keeping watch over a few thousand Dortians and Gorls camped at the foot of The Five Passes in front, the grim prospect stalls the others to silence. Horrified when he declares they now have to go around The Treman Basin instead, but by doing so they would have to travel between the outer scouts and the main encampment to make their escape, the news is not well received.
Fearfully, they trust Kifter’s judgement and proceed nonetheless, creeping halfway between the outer watchers and the huge camp itself. Travelling had never been so perilous for the small group, viewing it as utter madness. But travel they do, scurrying from bush to bush to make their escape. Hiding periodically, only when a returning patrol pass the enormous bush Hallen and Hanor are concealed within does trouble really start. Hiding their mounts too, but when one of their Kyboes shifts a straining limb, the resultant snap alerts the Gorl at the rear of the disappearing line to their position. Crouching before deftly making its way over to their bush, thinking an easy meal was at hand, the hefty racket of Hallen’s stabbing blade though quickly puts an end to it but also their location. The noise regrettably alerts another Gorl further along the pathway to investigate. Squawking for others to come when seeing its companion lying dead half-protruding from the bush, Kifter’s blade ends its call but it is not enough to stop the commotion that follows.
Spotted by others of foul intent, cries of rage start echoing deafeningly through the treed setting, rousing the whole camp from slumber. Remounting before charging into darkness, the fact thousands are camped but a few throws of a stone away heighten senses, straining eyes fearing death at any moment. Maintaining the same distance between the highly skilled scouts and that of the camp, Kifter cannot afford to risk breaking through either line, especially with Hanor here. Daring to charge between the two, he pins high hopes on ignorance, brave enough to believe those at the far end of the camp will do little without knowing what was going on, blind to those riding nearby undercover of the tree line.
Receiving a gash in the side from a sharp stinging stone shot by a scout, Hallen uses his mighty Hitorian blade to take down a line of Gorls and Dortians stepping into his path. Others fall when rushing blindly into the darkened bush. Camouflaged by huge far-reaching Woodell trees, their flight is hectic and desperate, hoping to outrun those coming after them.
Breaking free through the tree line, scores of brutish figures keep chasing them, the rousing camp refusing to rest. Covering the moonlit terrain, few of the enemy are mounted to their fortune. Deciding the river somewhere ahead will be far enough to slow, but upon reaching it, they cannot believe the enemy is still coming, mostly on foot. Crossing the low river swiftly, Hanor’s Kyboe stalls, somewhat wary of the water. Still scarred by that horrifying moment at Bovvers Crossing, eventually its master persuades it to move, but now Hanor is at the rear of the line. Certain escape was theirs, a sudden whooshing of the air is accompanied by the low sounds of huge beating wings. Fearing the cause, Hanor has good reason, shivers of dread running right through him. Looking up just when a familiar cry of evil renders the air dead, the heir of Manson falls limp in his seat, all life draining from him. Too paralysed to even think about defending himself, not that he can do anything against a monster such as a Nightshifter, but his limp posture is enough to free up powers of a different kind.
The very same powers raging through his body previously when facing The Freeloaver make a claim on the desperate circumstances again now. Steady at first as if preparing him for something monumental, the Stone springs to mind as if aglow in the chest pocket of his overcoat. Hypnotically reaching inside, still feeling limp under the direct gaze of the flying monster above, Hanor pulls his hand out with the precious contents. Experiencing the Stone’s powers when retrieving it with Nole, but that loving power seemed different somehow, stronger as if vitalised, containing its own hidden purpose.
Blazing into life when opening his hand, a white fiery light suddenly erupts from the Stone when holding it out, filling the darkness of night with its resplendent glow. Intense beyond anything witnessed before, the light feels hot, but its heat is of another sort, a kind that dissolves anything that is not like itself. Pulsing vibrantly, the resultant shrieks above are of an animal doomed to misery, suffering beyond measure. Heavy drafts of wind are no longer from a victorious monster, but that of a foe desperate to escape. Flapping its wretched wings as hard as it can to get away from the impossible light and its insufferable burning, nothing compares to it, not even the raging fires of the Nightshifter’s angry Master.
Slumping forward onto the neck of his Kyboe to rest, now completely drained, Hanor is lost to the outside world, barely recognising the comforting hands of his companions on him. Equally lost, Tarmon and the others can only but wonder at the miraculous events of this remarkable night. Checking Hanor’s condition before leading them away from the river with its dramatic encounter, who will ever believe such a remarkable story? So intensely real and alive, what happened here? Where does the light that frightens off such darkness so easily come from?
Heads start spinning when the celebrations die down, fear at the unknown igniting as tiredness closes the group down. What will the new dawn bring?
In Book 2, attentions at first focus on the potential of the Stone and what good it can do against the rising evil, but that lessens when an even greater power is revealed. Others join the group who become equally absorbed and yet hesitant at what they are actually having to contend with. A new objective is set before them which involves more of the supernormal, a route that takes an increasingly heavy toll on Hanor who seems to have become the focal point of such dynamic interactions. The journey leads them into enemy territory, dealing with horrors both old and new. Testing recently developed friendships, but even a spark of romance manages to squeeze in amongst the madness.
The identity of their enemy is now spoken of more freely, bitterly so. Gorl-darl is his name and revenge his motive. Nearly killed in distant times by The Hisian-Set, his long recovery has been slow but purposeful, tapping into new powers superior to anything witnessed before. But what is the true Source behind his incredible increase in power that dwarfs even him?
Brandor’s efforts to see his Wall of Power built by the greatest minds on the planet continues, although treachery comes from an unexpected quarter that draws both him and fellow Members of The Hisian-Set into a drastic confrontation that could be their undoing.
In Book 3, the supernormal reaches an explosive climax at The Centre Vale where the many winding pathways converge, leading all towards the final battle for supremacy. Amongst the twisting perils of human activity, the greatest evil of these times finally makes its monstrous claim on these lands, shaking its earthly foundations.
Watching and waiting patiently behind it all, The Great Maker stays keenly interested in what is to befall its world. Will its Plan work and freedom be gained or will The Great Shadow claim the ultimate victory? Only the testing of a certain young man from Manson will tell.