The Banished Lands - The Banished Lands Book 1 by Benjamin Mester Book Tour and Giveaway :)
The Banished Lands
Durian returned to his main room, to his chair in front of the fire, laying the axe down beside him. As he sat, Durian took a moment to drink in the night – the firelight dancing and casting deep shadows on the recesses of his home. And something rarely felt these past years began to rise in his heart: a longing to live his life to the full and find his true purpose – to do heroic deeds and make his life matter.
He opened his book and began flipping slowly through, perusing stories of the lost House of Cavanah, who according to legend disappeared at the end of the Great War, twelve centuries ago. Suriya belonged to one of the two remaining Houses, the House Forthura, which occupied the southern peninsula of the continent. To the north were the scattered tribes of the Horctura, the barbarians. And to the northwest, over a thousand leagues away was the House of Kester.
Durian turned the pages until coming to the story of the last great king of Cavanah, who reigned until the time of the Great War that ended the Prosperous Age. King Euthor was one of the Builders – those who could mold stone as though clay in their hands, and create new forms of stone with stronger properties – even magical ones. He had wrought great works in the latter days of the Prosperous Age, but had tragically lost his wife, Sheyla, just before the last battle that changed their world, over twelve centuries ago. After her death, he disappeared along with the rest of the House of Cavanah, never to be seen again.
Durian recalled the dream he had had this morning and slowly read the poem before him:
Durian closed the book and laid it down for the night. But something suddenly tugged on the strings of memory and he took the book back up again, not quite sure what he was looking for. But the pages came to rest on a picture he had forgotten about until just now – a simple sketch of a cloaked and featureless figure standing atop a windswept hill. Nothing of his face could be seen, like an other-worldly specter. In his hand was an ornately decorated walking stick with an iron cap, and behind him, dark storm clouds were gathering. Below the picture was a single description: Windbearer.