Stanza One: The Storm of Hammers

By Timothy Morris

The legend of the Stormhammer is one of Vosteros' oldest tales. It goes back to before the first Cataclysm and stretches past the Collision of Worlds. It is a legend that started a long time ago amongst the Subarii; Vosteros' most proud clan of warriors. As time passed, the legend, as most legends do, slipped into fable and folklore, a q

• Language: English
• Publisher: TNM Publishing, LLC
• Release date: Oct 23, 2015
• ISBN: 9780989696357

Book preview

The Ballad

Of

Bayan Stormhammer

Stanza One

The Storm of Hammers

Verse One

Gyvuu

Gyvuu.

Marcius MacKeary walked through his home village of SunRock pondering why this word had suddenly popped into his head. It wasn’t uncommon for him to see or hear things that were yet to have meaning. Usually, it was visions that came to him after or during his tea. Sometimes voices would whisper to him things yet to happen. Perhaps that was the issue; this was not an event. It was not the name of a person or a people. It was just a word. The intonation of the voice he heard speak it made it sound as a though it were a command of some sort. In the language of mana it meant, be free.

The old sage meandered through his village with only this one thought on his mind. He just couldn’t shake it. He was neither mentally nor physically enslaved. He most certainly was not one of the mage hunters created by the mad blood changers in Looria. He looked at his feet as he walked and pondered. It was a habit of his, one that often got him into trouble. He was well aware of this and so it came as no surprised when he found himself on the ground after accidentally bumping into a cloaked visitor to his small village. What did come as a surprise was the shining gray- metallic hand that extended to help him up.

The prophet of SunRock looked at the face atop the body to which the hand belonged and saw sincere kindness. He knew he was looking at one of Looria’s mage hunters but it was not the twisted angry face that they typically possessed. This one had rage and anger, yes, but it was different. The eyes of this face possessed a very clear, very strong sense of purpose. It was the look of one seeking justice, one seeking liberation, and a look of one who wanted to be free.

Then it clicked! Marcius knew why the word was on his mind so strongly. It was just a few sunrises ago that he’d heard a tale from another passerby about how her blue-hued companion had stopped a small army of mage hunters simply by uttering the word for freedom in the language of mana. There absolutely had to be a connection.

Gyvuu, MacKeary said with a curious tone.

We owe a great debt of gratitude to the one who gave us that name, the large, daunting character replied. I know this village is home to many mages, which is why I cloaked myself to hide my skin. Would it be possible for you to take me to Cassandra Seriya? I have come to seek her help on behalf of my people.

I see, Marcius said with a smile, you have taken the word as the name of your people. I will be happy to take you to the Swordswoman of SunRock. She is likely sparring with her brother in the training fields. May I ask why you seek her help? I am somewhat of an advisor to the Seriya family.

You must be Marcius MacKeary then, the large figure said politely. I heard you were a prophet, do you truly need me to tell you my purpose.

Prophets don’t choose what they see, Marcius replied sharply. I have seen things I wish more than anything I could unsee. I have failed to see happy endings when I wanted to more than anything else.

I meant no offense, the Gyvuu answered.

You needn’t apologize, MacKeary said with a chuckle. Most do not understand the burdens of foresight. Still, I owe you an apology for forgetting my manners. I am indeed Marcius MacKeary, great and powerful prophet...sort of.

I am called Olyn, the prophet’s