Fireblood (Whispers from Mirrowen)
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Tyrus of Kenatos has made it his life’s work to banish the plagues that ravage the kingdoms. He believes the answer to ending the devastation lies in the Scourgelands. Yet, Tyrus’s first expedition into the cursed woods failed after being defeated by mysterious minions who stalked and killed most of his band.
Now a prisoner in his own tower, Tyrus has summoned his nephew Annon—a Druidecht possessing innate magic called the fireblood—on the guise of finding a hidden treasure with which to purchase his twin sister Hettie’s freedom. But in reality, Tyrus is using his niece and nephew, and their magic, as an opportunity to escape and resume his desperate mission. And to aid them, he has enlisted the warrior-monk Paedrin—who is almost as green as the siblings when it comes to traveling these troubled lands. The trio is determined, and along the way they grow to trust each other—and new additions to the group—in order to accomplish their missions…whether or not those missions are one and the same.
But the Arch-Rike—ruthless ruler of Kenatos—has learned of these plans, and has sent the fearsome Kishion to destroy all those that oppose him. Now Tyrus and his unwitting allies must face down not only the plague, but this new enemy—and fulfill their quest before a fresh horror is unleashed on the world…
Boeotian: a race of tribes from the northern territories known as Boeotia. They have no central government, though they purportedly revere an individual known as the Empress. They are nomads with no permanent cities and live off the land. They are strong and typically have brown or black hair and are prone to fight amongst themselves, pitting tribe against tribe. Their skin is heavily veined and tattooed, giving them an almost purple cast. They have sworn to destroy the city of Kenatos, and
enough?” Beshop asked, coming around. “It is already turning black. Paedrin, you broke my toe,” muttered Jaendro, still sitting on the flagstones. “Give me your hand, you sod! I need help standing!” “What is enough?” Beshop pressed, wiping sweat from his forehead, looking at what Paedrin was looking at. He gave Beshop the staff and started after the girl. Who she was, Paedrin had no idea. She had appeared at the temple orphanage, wearing woodcutter’s garb and keeping mostly to herself. How
his neck revealed he was also a Druidecht. A gush of relief went through Annon’s heart on seeing the token. “I trust him.” Hettie no longer resisted and released the tension in the bowstring. “In a few more moments, your time to decide will be shattered by raking claws and the most horrible hide-stench you can imagine. You are in its lair still. I, for one, would prefer safety to debate. The choice is yours.” He turned abruptly and started back down the mountainside at a solid pace, crushing
and kill her. Stop her from weeping. Oh, how it torments me. A thousand ducats to kill her. Cim won’t do it. He says no one lives next door anymore. He is just too lazy. Too lazy. A thousand ducats. Will you do it?” Hettie stared at the old woman, revulsion overpowering her. “I will return in three days. Kiranrao will pay for the pouch. He will pay handsomely for it. I must go.” “Do not leave me alone, child,” Mondargiss pleaded, grabbing her by the hem of her cloak. “I cannot bear to hear the
against the Outriders, and Paedrin realized they were losing. As dusk started to fall and his stomach reminded him of their lack of meals that day, he noticed plumes of soot in the air. “A village?” he asked, pointing. “Good eyes,” she said. “I’ve been looking for that sign. We crossed many leagues today. But I had hoped to be within sight of it before nightfall. That is Fowlrox. It is the gateway city to Stonehollow.” “Each kingdom has a gateway city then. Like Minon that we saw last night?”