Arise A Hero

Arise A Hero 

Wayne Schreiber

The Tanarian Chronicles - UK Edition  

(Recommended reading age 16+)

Book 1 Arise A Hero

Book 2 the Crystal king

Book 3 - Usurper of the Gods

Visit my website www.ariseahero.com

PROLOGUE

The ageing warrior gave a slight groan as he raised his scabbard and sat on the bench. His armour was not quite the fit it used to be - too much desk duty. The warmth of the open fire started to penetrate his silver plate armour sending a golden shimmer across its protective ridges. 

'Well Bolzat,' croaked the white bearded figure across the desk, his fragile frame sinking back closer to the fire. 'Have you come about the boy?' 

'Of course,' fired back the old Warlord. 'And your support will help secure my son's training.' Bolzat's tone softened, 'Come on old friend, help me secure his place?' 

'I fear I don't have the same sway that I used to have, but, for my old shield bearer I shall try my best,' muttered the old man. 'Now pour an old warrior a goblet of wine, the good stuff mind, and tell me how the logistics are faring on the Northern Front. Have we enough supplies to siege or will we need to force a breach?' 

Bolzat began to run through the endless lists of stores and supplies until the old man interrupted. 

'I was appointed Training Master this morning by Lord Hadrak, but then you knew that already, else you would not be warming your bones near my fire.' 

Bolzat simply nodded, the slight smile on his face gave away his pretence of surprise. 

'You know he is too young, the Su-Katii tradition dictates he should be no less than eight years and be able to lift the ale barrel above his head - he is only five.' 

Bolzat bellowed a laugh that echoed around the hall. 'My boy can lift the barrel, drink the contents and then wipe the floor with any eight-year-old in every one of your puny trials.' The old man chuckled, 'Too much of his father in him I think? Very well, I shall grant a favour to an old friend. Bring the boy to the hall in the morning - and he will die.'

****

CHAPTER 1 - INTO THE WILDERNESS

Athene had cursed the day that she had signed the charter for the convoy to Nordheim many times since they set off two months ago. The baggage train was so mind-numbingly slow and boring as they trundled their way through the increasingly barren countryside. But the money would keep her in lodgings and wine for at least three months after this trip. Easy money really - cook for the hundred warriors and twelve merchants, don't use too much salt, overcook everything and don't poison anyone, then return home to Tanaria without the tribes of Nordheim killing you. Sounded easy. It was easy too, except for the endless stream of delays and the monotony of the trail. Athene chuckled as she remembered her mother fussing around her before the trip. 

'Don't take the skirts, do take the woollen leggings, lay off the lip balm there will be a lot of wild and unruly men on the trip.' However, it didn't matter how dressed down Athene stayed, some toothless hero would sit down next to her fire and start with the war stories whilst grabbing some soup or hanging around her on fire picket - 'Oh, my hero,' was usually enough to make them think that their story had impressed her - 'Now bugger off and leave me to cook,' was what it really meant. Athene stoked the evening fire to keep the stew warm. The nights had been getting progressively colder with the altitude of the mountains, the men around her had erected their weathered tents in the usual fashion against the sides of the wagons in preparation for the night and the first perimeter patrol was due back shortly. She had noticed the numerous mercenaries that accompanied them had stepped up their activities and patrols now that they had entered foreign lands; even if they had been invited into Nordheim it was still in the back of their minds that this time last year they had been close to full blown war.