The Stones of Talarana I - The Shadow of the Tyrant Page 6

The light faded for the second time and finally Mankalar and others were able to ascertain the nature of what happened: the twelfth guard was nowhere, the captain noticed. The only remains consisted of something like a figure curled and twisted that now was a few feet away from him. On the other hand the men were fascinated by the macabre scene took place before their eyes. Mankalar was somewhat dubious about the whole thing: the man looked like a normal person and this figure was also reported in his personal folder. He was a renodian, not an evil being, he was more than certain. Then how could he have failed so disastrously more foolproof protection they possessed over there? The captain felt really frustrated by the event, for sure the whole thing would not have been dismissed as an accident and probably a special commission would be sent there to investigate the matter. However he was not so linger for such a thing, and decided to not want to affect the rest of men, enabling them to be able to seriously doubt the effectiveness of the barrier, proceeded to cross himself. But as he moved the first step through it read on the faces of his men mingled expression of disappointment and horror. He just had time to turn around to look at a pile of rags to be out of the hearing and a long bony arm to grab him by the throat.

  A hollow laugh, accentuated by the echo of the place, came out of the throat of the Being. "Demonretro major. That's all the power of your race? "Laughed heartily" Too bad this spell has not yielded physical effect on me. Will I still need your help to pass beyond "his eyes stared at the captain with contempt and then add a dry" dirty men "Mankalar had difficulty in swallowing in an attempt to answer one of whom could not see his face, before a stabbing pain invaded the stomach. Observed just below to see a thin black blade escape from her womb. He could not scream while being, keeping it stuck with the blade, used it to cross the portal unharmed. Meanwhile, on the other side of the fence, some guards had unsheathed their swords while others were rushed to the opposite extreme of the Cathedral, at the casket. Mankalar was brutally thrown to the ground, dying, and the Being, which could barely make out the features, advanced ships in the nave, rejecting the assaults of the guards without any effort. The few who remained to defend the altar rushed over being determined to defend to the end the secret. There was an explosion: the last four soldiers had launched many balls of fire at the approaching enemy. The Being laughed again while the entire Cathedral was crossed by seismic and within seconds, those last men fell to the ground pierced by the sword thin, helpless and confused by the facts. The Being caught without any delay the box and pulled out the contents, in turn guarded in a soft velvet cloth. Then retraced across the aisle, strewn with the bodies of those who had given their lives to prevent its advance and paused in front of Mankalar now dying. The captain, near the end, however, tried to divert be imminent victory. "Even if you come up here waiting another twelve good men to deal with, and as if that was not enough, you can not get out of here in no way, for large spells protect the Cathedral and ... you." The Being did not give him time to finish the sentence with a sharp blow had severed his head from his neck.

  The Being, whose mind was tremendously complex, was not surprised by any of the obstacles that were faced during those few hours. In fact, everything had gone according to plan. The only thing left to do now was to leave that place, imbued with such harmful positive energy. He put the stolen secret in his pocket in the large robe and with a definite wave of his hand, he drew an intricate symbol in the air. In front of his eyes opened a spiral vortex that gradually widened until it reaches the size of these to get through. The Being across the spiral while the entire Cathedral, now deprived of its important function and magical power generated by the secrecy kept, collapsed in on itself.

  Crimson rays streaked the horizon, casting the first light of a new day on the bay of Selthon, overlooking the Ocean Center. In the sky still shone, albeit with less force, the two moons Masir and Kalef, the twin satellites of the planet. A faint breeze, preserving the coolness of the night, blowing the impressive city levels, a masterpiece of architecture and capital of the vast Selthonian empire. Dawn, as each day went to strike, illuminating a bright silver luster, the towers of Crystal catalyst of energy and signal for navigation, located on the top of Mount Samaran, overlooking the city.

  The capital ran along the gentle slopes of the mountain, thus forming three uniform levels: the upper layer and closer to the towers housed the most majestic and spectacular city: there were located the royal palace and various military and administrative centers, together the villas of the dignitaries and nobles.

  The real gem in the upper part of the town was the shining the Major Basilica, important center of worship for the whole population and is known throughout the world for its blue marbles and exquisite decorations. The central pediment was decorated with ancient mythical scenes, having as protagonist Leviathan, divine protector of the city, while the columns with spiral columns, delimited a large courtyard in the center of which stood an imposing white marble fountain, also depicting the lord of waters.

  The three naves culminating in a majestic altar, behind which rose a giant glass that covered the entire apse. To crown the whole structure there was a turquoise dome, composed entirely of pieces of cobalt, identifiable even from miles away.

  Next to the highest part of the capital, was the hilly area level and industrial city, once covered by a thick forest cover, replaced now by the intensive cultivation of cereals and animal husbandry, as well as the mining companies and the military workshops. Through an excellent job of hydraulic adjustment, the waters were channeled by medium to large lakes, of which the surrounding plains abounded, to irrigate the fields and make them fertile and productive. In addition, a series of canals made it possible to navigate to the sea of ​​merchant ships. The real heart of the capital, however, was located over the hills on the coast: it was, in fact, the maritime trade and fishing that the city drew the most money. Selthon sea was the capital region with greater population density, and also the most interesting: it could well see many different kinds of people live together and work together, from the environments most humble to the most rich and wealthy. The port was divided into two parts by a small barrier, housed both civilian vessels fishing vessels as well as a part of the impressive imperial fleet, once the undisputed power of the West Central Ocean.

  Large Imperial ships had nothing to do with the elegant sailing vessels moored at docks nearby: moored to the docks there was Varuna, one of the three flagship of the fleet, the last to be completed after the reform made by the Chancellor of ' Empire, as well as numerous cruisers Scylla whose canons, Caridis had roboato and fought in nearly all sections of ocean on the planet, making them particularly feared.

  And it is precisely Selthon maritime life is born every day for the first: the workshops of bakers began to spread the fragrant smell of the bread, vegetables vendors open their shops displaying the merchandise, the first carts begin to occupy the streets market while fishing vessels and merchant ships on the horizon with their loads.

  Only the docks, with the exception of a boy, seated on a coil of rope, watching the sun rise, could be said to be deserted: the rays of the day lit up the face and the warm breeze ruffled slightly long brown hair, pulled back the ears. He was wearing a leather jacket, tied behind his back by a double belt and a pair of comfortable pants. Nothing seemed to distract him from his thoughts, even when from behind him, a voice familiar to him, he said:

  "Good morning, lazy, what are you doing here? Ah, do not tell me ... you slept away from home again tonight, right? ". Behind him, the owner of the voice handed him a freshly baked loaf of bread on his head while it rained a shower of crumbs.

  "Good morning to you Andrew ..." said the young man sitting after a loud yawn, trying to give to understand that his friend was his comment in bad taste. He hated the moments when the boy gave evidence of a very particular sense of humor, but fortunately these events occurred at intervals of a few words in a day.

  "I do not really understand Greg, you're the son of the
chief of the activities in the port of Selthon, live in a beautiful house and despite everything you insist on spending the night on the docks."

  "For my part I can not understand why you insist you advise me to spend the night at home when, for my part, I do, as you see, do without. Mine is a kind of protest against the wishes of my father and you know it, as you also know how much I do not want to continue the job of getting my father one day, his successor in the administration of the port. I know that anyone would want to be in my place, but I feel that this is not what I should do. But to do what I want I can not remain under the influence of my father, he would not let me ever. So to save both the embarrassment of furious debate, I prefer to sleep on the docks, lit by the glow of the Moons. After this exhaustive explanation finally accept my excuses? "Said Greg rising. Before him, a boy dramatically lower and tousled-haired blacks had just swallowed the last bite of his loaf and Greg looked at him in silence, with a piercing gaze and accuser.

  Andrew felt silly for what he had just said to his friend, knew his particular family situation and often had to reluctantly attended the quarrels between father and son, remembering how, in those moments, thanking fate for not being in and how the role of Greg embarrass help without being able to say anything.

  Greg saw his friend's face on a note of regret and smiling he hastened to add: "I'm sorry, I was too hard on you and you do not deserve the treatment haughty just now." Andrew was relieved by the words of his friend and the dark shadow that had fallen on his face vanished immediately. Greg had turned to look at the ocean and inhaled deeply of the air full of salt.

  "Think Andrew, have the opportunity to see the world, walking to unknown lands, climb up to the snowy mountains, their way through dense forests ... this is the life I want to do, do not stay firmly rooted here, behind a mountain of paperwork crazy over forests of numbers ... ". He turned to his friend with a face full of enthusiasm: "Is not it wonderful?"

  Andrew nodded once again share the enthusiasm just expressed. "There will be neither the first nor the last time I hear this speech," he said to himself, reserving the other to put the knowledge to their own opinion. They knew each other for a lifetime but, after all, had never been able to quench his excessive imagination. He was sorry for this silence, voted not to disappoint the dreams of his friend, but often felt guilty that he could not really disappoint.

  Then, moments later his expression changed, intrigued by what was happening behind the back of Greg, who, noticing the astonishment of his face, he turned to see what had so astonished Andrew.

  Not far from the shore, a man was walking on the water quietly as if he were walking on a perfectly paved road. Greg did not seem very puzzled by the strange phenomenon indeed smiled and respectfully said, "Good morning master, I see that you are already back from your walk."

  The man responded in turn with a gentle smile and when he got to the dock, touched the water with the long decorated stick wielding. Waters, in obedience to a secret command, deformed, taking the form of a small scale that the teacher went in a few moments, faced the two boys. He was a tall man with hair gathered in long braids behind the ears, the hair style that characterized the traditional caste of magicians, a reassuring face and blue eyes. He wore a blue jacket with a wide collar, wide and dark pants that ended in a pair of boots opaque white.

  Greg was enjoying himself, amused, amazed at the expression of his reality and calling it said, "Andrew, this is Dovan, my master." Dovan smiled, waving his hand slowly not occupied by the stick in the direction of Andrew, who, obviously embarrassed, returned the greeting.

  "You're a magician of the court, is not it?" Began Andrew, short of arguments.

  "Yes, this is my official duties. I served the empire and our sovereign for years, and now, for reasons I know for sure be too boring to your ears, I'm enjoying a period of peace and tranquility, away from the pomp and festivities of the court, "he said laughing then turned around and picking up from the ground a wicker basket went up to the platform edge.

  "Do not be sorry if I make some stock of fish is not it? Many fishermen envy me for what I'm doing, some even came to offer me a great job as fisherman on their boats, but the ethics of my job prevents me from doing. "

  So saying he made the basket hovering in mid-air with the tip of a long stick touched the surface of the water and it immediately began to stir the multitude of fish appeared. Immediately after the magician tapped three times with a cane basket and large blue fish streaked with red, obedience to his command, jumped directly into the container.

  "Surely will go against your ethics, sir, but I do not see how there can be a quicker and cheaper to get some good fresh fish," said Andrew seriously annoyed.

  Greg and Dovan laughed and had fun, but Andrew looked very puzzled, convinced that there was nothing funny about what he had just said. Then he realized that the laughter of the two was due to the fact that his thinking was always and only directed towards the pleasures of the table.

  Dovan, still subject to fits of giggles, grabbed the basket full of fish and Greg, seizing the opportunity to delay his return home, he kindly offered to the master to help him carry the basket. The other looked at him in the eye and resolute, while maintaining a calm and peaceful tone said, "If I'm not mistaken you should be at home at this time and if your clothes wrinkled, do not deceive me I think you do not return there since yesterday. You know that I do not approve, as your teacher, you spend the night alone at the port, especially since your father and your mother might be worth it for you. No, you better go home at once Greg, I'll see you this afternoon for the lesson. Try to be on time, it will be a very important lesson. "

  Greg, for the respect that led to the master was forced to nod, promising to return home.

  The master smiled again to both and, making his way through the ropes that crowded the narrow wooden pier, headed home. Arrived in the middle of it, he turned back to the two boys adding:

  "I forgot, you also brings Andrew, I'm sure he will be happy to assist."

  Andrew addressed a broad smile to the magician, grateful for their desire fulfilled he thought of from the moment she saw him walk on water just before. Greg knew that ultimately was up to something hidden from his parents but still was not able to figure out what it was: even Lisa and Mark did not seem to know.

  Dovan finished along the pier and pulled into the driveway Samaran to disappear then in turn into the road leading to the forest just outside the city walls.

  "So it's magic?" Said Andrew.

  Greg nodded again, trying not to show embarrassment.

  Andrew went on alone, "Do not tell me, are the last to know, is not it?".

  The embarrassment of Greg grew again as he nodded again, trying to pull a conciliatory smile with his friend. The expression of Andrew became in turn more frowning while the strange events of the months before were suddenly a logical solution. "This is Lisa and Mark have done a blind eye when some time ago I asked them where you hide every afternoon while I was at work." The embarrassment had just reached its peak.

  "Sorry Andrew, but we felt that I was not interested in the thing," said Greg trying to parry the blow.

  "The interest or not does not matter: we've known for years, many years, we shared everything, even the worst moments. And now, suddenly, you exclude me. "

  Greg had rarely seen his best friend so disappointed and bitter. "I was the one to the other promise not to say anything. I thought you would not have approved it! "

  Andrew looked at him coldly. "I think at this point my support is worth little. In any case, you're in luck, magic does not interest me. "

  The silence that followed weighed for a few long minutes on both, then was Andrew, changing the subject, to unstuck off the embarrassment derived from mutual discussion. After all, was not touchy as it was Greg. "Your master lives in the forest?"

  "In a way, yes. His house is on a hill at the beginning of the forest, not far from the West Gate. the master says that "he prefers to live
in close contact with nature rather than immersed in the swirling chaos of city life. '" Greg turned back to the dawn: the Sun, born alive in the sky, had lost its glory crimson and had assumed the golden glow. On the large table of the crystalline ocean sunlight is reflected in the mirror, thereby preventing Greg to support long observation. Greg saw hardly the shapes of vessels returning from fishing and knowing of his passion for boats suggested, "Look Andrew, they're coming fishing vessels, what do you say to wait for their dock to see what they have catch? ".

  "You'd do just about anything not to go home, huh? Okay, after all, is already late for breakfast and too early for lunch, I have to find something to pass the time. "

  Greg this time refrained from laughing friend, even though he almost choked in turn, then masking the laughter with coughing.

  At that moment came a sailing boat, equipped for trawling with nets. A fisherman, leaning over the edge of the ship, with a long rope in his hand, cried out to the two:

  "Hey guys! Grasp the top of the rope and tie it to the dock. " Greg grabbed the top flight they had been launched, but given his lack of experience in sailor knots, decided to set aside the task to expert Andrew.

  The ship, once assured berth, approached the dock, allowing the crew to go ashore and carry the baskets of fish. Strangely, the fishing had been very thin and just as strangely, three crew took on the pier fishing nets, hopelessly ruined. When they were laid on the ground, Greg and Andrew noticed with surprise that in the midst of them hid a sharp long sword and the hilt decorated with a frieze that reminded the head of a bird of prey, perhaps an eagle.

  "What happened? What are you doing there that sword? "Asked Greg the fisherman who had just asked for help to moor the ship.

  "We do not know explain it: while we pulled on board networks strangely torn and empty, arrived almost at the end of it, thinking that there was a fish trapped extraordinarily large, we pulled with all our might, but the only thing we found is this sword. Damn this thing has ruined the plot of our best network, with the result that tonight we did not collect anything they can sell to the market, "said one.

  The fisherman, in a rage, fell into a series of curses rather colorful and they wisely decided to leave.

  Sure that it was not more than a simple discovery submarine headed for another platform, but while they were looking through the networks boat luckier than the last, warned the cries of amazement come from the nearby beach. Immediately abandoned the interest in fishing, ran to see what had come to the bank at which he had already gathered a small crowd. The two, by dint of elbowing and jostling, they were able to get in the front row, where he attended a show unusual by the standards of peace and normality that is breathed in Selthon, an event that occurred very rarely: the last time something unusual had come ashore was seventeen years before, when, after a storm of unprecedented violence, had formed a large accumulation of wrecks and, unfortunately, even the bodies of the sailors who did not have it done.

  A man unconscious, lying stretched out on the sand close firmly holding hands on a wooden table that had probably kept afloat. It was not just a fisherman, seemed rather a person of a certain respect because his neck he wore a precious locket and wore clothes of the rich, soaked and stiffened from sea water.

  The gathered crowd began to shout excitedly: curiosity skyrocketed and the survivor showed no signs of returning to him, until, by the crowd, there arose a member selthonian medical unit that, after finding the presence of even a weak heartbeat , was able to give him back to consciousness. The man swallowed and regurgitated the water after the powerful coughing opened his eyes.

  "For Leviathan sake!" were his first words, sometimes to thank the great god of the sea.

  The man began laboriously to his feet and coughing after another began to speak, in an attempt to give an explanation for the present of what had happened: "I was part of a merchant convoy returning from the city of Renodia: the trip was going well and soon we arrived at Selthon to deliver the goods. We sailed in the waters near the Atlaua field of Varnelio, when the boat was traveling on was approached by a large narenian ship.

  We thought it was a simple control at night, but suddenly jumped on the deck of our ship warriors armed with long swords and a strange man on the other hand disarmed. The latter came up to me and grabbed me by the neck, lifting me off the ground. He wore a hat that hid his face and ... "He paused, his hands twitched as he covered his eyes as if to hide the scene from his memory, then with a terrified voice said," for Leviathan, had eyes completely white and without pupils, "the crowd rose exclamations of surprise as soon after the merchant went on with his story. "Meanwhile the selthonian guards on board have fought valiantly but could not anything against the aggressors in overwhelming numerical superiority. Meanwhile, that being "paused for a moment, maybe he could not find words to name his assailant,

  "I was about to strangle, I missed your breath for a moment, but then one of the soldiers nareniani approached him and nodded, indicating the hold. That inhuman being then loosened his grip and threw me out of the bow. I fell into the water, and shortly after that annaspavo the waves of the raging sea I saw the men get out of the hold and then set fire to the ship. By chance I found this axis floating nearby, otherwise I would have drowned. At that moment I saw the convoy to which I belonged on fire and the ship that attacked us that he walked away. I fear that we are seized of what we carried "

  He finished the story while the crowd spread a great buzz: from behind the people who had been unable to hear the story pressed on the front to try to reach the first file and find something quite robust two men drove back Andrew and Greg in a short time found themselves out of the crowd that within a few minutes it became increasingly fed.

  The voice seemed to have spread throughout the city at breakneck speed: the Blue Avenue, the street where the market was held every day was filled with an extraordinary amount of people, unjustifiable from the hour of the morning.

  Many sellers were busy behind the market stalls while buyers were busy comparing the freshness of fruits and vegetables: all, however, tended carefully the ear in an attempt to grab more fresh news about the incident. Several selthonians began to rumors on the possible violation of the diplomatic part of the narenian kingdom. For many centuries, in fact, the relationship between the kingdom of Naren and the Empire of Selthon were unstable but lately between the two powers, through diplomacy, There was a certain openness. The strike seemed to be throwing into disarray the balance painstakingly achieved.

  This time, however, the cause of the scandal did not seem to be necessarily Varnelio: None of the mining colonies of the Azure Islands had been attacked, and the narenian kingdom had no suggestion whatsoever dissatisfaction due to the recent division of fuel resources.

  Through an alley secondary managed to avoid the crowds that invaded the streets of the city market, moving easily to the home of Greg, a large villa near the South Gate His face did not betray the slightest mood, very sad because of the predictable lecture that he should receive from his parents. Since they had left the port neither of them had mentioned to turn to another word, both immersed in their own thoughts. Andrew preferred to avoid the subject of the war against Naren, he the last of the Wars of Varnelio had lost his father, experienced soldier and great value: it was very attached to her father and his loss had left a profound mark, could not therefore to tolerate that Greg felt so little sympathy for his own, so he wanted his was still alive. But his was a protest deaf. Andrew remembered with pain the day when it was communicated to him and his mother, the bitter news, and the whole ocean basin was under the grip of intense struggle between the two maritime powers, and from that day had failed more out of her mind how stupid conflicts can affect and destroy the unity, love and affection of a family.

  Mechanically, when you get near the main gate of the garden, Greg snapped the lock and, followed by his friend, proceeded to walk the paved driveway, lined with well-kept hedges and evergreen trees.

  The d
oor, massive and dark, he was unusually open, and Greg, amazed that no one was waiting at the door to give him yet another rebuke, listened, unable to feel mutilated sentences come from upstairs. Intrigued, he entered the hall shady, dominated by a majestic staircase that branched off into two branches. He went up, taking care to his feet were barely perceptible, but Andrew who had not grasped the intention of Greg, carelessly bumped against one of the marble steps blue, ending up with a little face against the floor. Greg, showing incredible agility reflexes caught it on the fly, ensuring that their discovery was so furtive presence. They walked down the corridor to the right, in the direction of the voices they heard, until they came in front of a precious wood door, Greg knew that the door of the inviolable private studio of his father was from behind it that these rumors come from, but only one of these Greg was able to identify the owner. The second seemed cold and metallic and his fluent spoken and refined, identified it as a probable member of the nobility or upper middle merchant class. Greg cautiously approached the ear to try and understand the meaning of the discussion and in the same way Andrew did.

  "Mr. Oltan, the news of which you are the bearer can only lead me in amazement and a hint of embarrassment. If the words of survivor this morning reported are true, the incident would cause an unpleasant diplomatic incident between our overseas empire and the kingdom of Naren. "

  "My lord, I am well aware of its enormous diplomatic efforts to put an end to further conflicts, but unfortunately the facts speak for themselves." The voice paused for a moment, and a sharp sound of footsteps came through the door. Greg and Andrew had a quiver in fear that the father of the first ever found out that they were deliberately eavesdropping on a personal conversation and very important.

  After a few moments the second voice spoke again: "You can see for yourself through the globevisor, sir. This sword is clearly narenian manufacturing and was found near the place where the attack took place two days ago. Fishermen have pulled up with nets at night and as soon as I heard this, I asked that I be delivered, suspecting that it would be useful for a possible investigation. "

  "I am pleased to have her as a confidant Mr. Oltan, I want to openly congratulate you on your efficient work. It is absolutely certain that the sword belonged to the soldiers who attacked our convoy? "

  "Certainly, my lord. As soon as I could I put in connection with the globevisor with Nautica station of Mount Samaran and asked to ascertain the location where our ship would be attacked. The last signal it sent its presence testified to ten nautical miles from our coast, near the colony extraction Altaua and the merchant ship has found that the sword has beaten the same route. Taking into further consideration the presence of currents, water experts I have been able to confirm, with a very low margin of error, it is likely that the weapon found belonged to the attackers. This indeed support further the story of the merchant shipwrecked. "

  "Very good, played magnificently his duty as a director and city inspector, Mr. Oltan. The matter, however, requires clarification and I think it's important my presence in the city not later than tomorrow. "

  Greg and Andrew exchanged glances interrogative and went up, this time inadvertently with more pressure, the study door, just as his father Greg was dismissing with his interlocutor, inevitably lead to fall tumbling to the ground.

  Greg, embarrassed at being found out, cocked her head to have the time to look at the face of the father, a young man, who, seated on a rich seat, immediately returned his gaze.

  Greg's father was bleached in the face because of embarrassment suscitatogli rather unexpected entry of his son and his friend in his studio, in the middle of a conversation with topics that are strictly private.

  He glanced furious with his son and turning back to the globevisor said:

  "Forgive their ineptitude Chancellor, I offer my apologies for the unfortunate interruption."

  Mr. Oltan had turned toward the screen move and Greg could not see the expression on his face of his father, even if it was struggling to imagine, so he decided to take advantage of the moment and promptly grabbed Andrew's arm and dragged him out the room, taking care to close the door gently.

  "I'm sorry Greg, it's my fault," said Andrew apologized to his friend.

  "Never mind, it was the fault of our curiosity," said curtly.

  Disappointed, retraced the corridor and descended the grand staircase, but this time, at the foot of the ladder was waiting for someone was a woman of a particular beauty with a noble bearing that revealed as one of the most respected and busy women of Selthon.

  "Good morning, mother," said Greg casually trying to avoid it.

  Vylia Oltan, however, was more alert and responsive to him, grabbed him by the arm and although this is just suited him to a woman of her class, the sound swung a slap on the cheek.

  Greg pulled back, rubbing his cheek hit with astonished expression.

  "You have no idea how much you've made me feel worried? It could have happened something! I do not want my son spends the night out of home like a stray dog" said the sobbing.

  "Mother, why should I be forced to prepare to follow the work of my father? I do not want to become the administrator in chief of the activities of the port of Selthon is not what I want from my life. My father is a man stressed out, full of work commitments, divided between the port and High Selthon, I will not want to take his place for having also inherit his stress. Mother, you know I want to be a magician and that nothing else would do. "

  "Greg dear, your father does for your own good, making it a solid and prosperous future. What are your expectations of comfort and luxuries you become a magician? "

  "I do not care of the luxuries and splendor, have never been important to me, but rather seem to be vital for you. No matter how many and what obstacles you decide to come between me and my aspiration, I'll be able to realize my dream, whether you want it or not "said Greg finally, passing his mother and reaching the door.

  Andrew had remained motionless on the third last step, almost as if he was one with the marble.

  "Come now, Master Dovan awaits us for the lesson," said Greg rushing to leave the house.

  Andrew, not being in the mood for controversy after the quarrel he had witnessed, he muttered something about his stomach and followed his friend.

  Back to index

  Contacts

  Facebook (english page)

  Facebook.com/TheStonesOfTalarana

  Facebook (italian page)

  Facebook.com/LePietrediTalarana

  Blog : www.lepietreditalarana.wordpress.com

  Back to index

  About the Author

  Alessandro H. Den. Born and grown up in Florence, he began to write in elementary school, although some attempts have been documented as early as kindergarten scribbles. Famous for leaving pictorial signs of his passage anywhere (sheets, desks, people), growing up he became interested in too many things to pick just one then he is a graduate of the Faculty of Design where he could express and experience his being versatile. He started writing the first book, "The Shadow of the Tyrant" at sixteen but starts to believe after having trashed it and started again from the beginning for the fifth time. Currently he is attending the first year of Master's degree in Architecture and has finished writing the second novel in the series.

  Back to index