Grym Prophet (Song of the Aura, Book Three) (28 page)

Nathanael: for reading through and pointing out the dumb mistakes that slip by me constantly.

Thirdly, I thank the teen writing workshop members from the spring program at my library: they don't know it, but without them the character of Gribly would never have been invented... and there would have been no story to tell.

Lastly, I thank all the people and groups who gave me support and fellowship on the path of writing: my friends, my family, my heroes, my helpers. We're Striders together, all of us…

ABOUT the AUTHOR and the BOOK

I’m
the author of several novels, including the standalone Arthurian novel
Mordred
, as well as the
Song of the Aura
series. Having grown up reading the likes of Tolkien, Jacques, Lewis, and Jordan, it was only a matter of time before my imagination grew too explosive to contain, and one day it spilled out onto paper as the first lines of my first story.

As far as my life goes, I like all sorts of fantasy games, movies, and books. I’m a soccer player, a wannabe musician, and an active Catholic. I was homeschooled for most of my life, allowing me to finish my first novel by age 16. By 17, I’d written four. Into college and beyond, I hope to continue writing novels that both inspire and enlighten you, the reader… just make sure to have fun while you’re at it, OK?

I hope you've enjoyed this book- but whether you liked it or hated it, I value your opinion. Reviews are hugely appreciated. Thank you, and May the great Creator of the world send His Aura to protect you!

To visit my blog, go to
www.epicbloggjd.blogspot.com
.

To become a fan of the
Song of the Aura
series, go to
www.facebook.com/songoftheaura
.

To become a fan of
Mordred
, go to
www.facebook.com/Excather
.

BOOKS by GREGORY J. DOWNS

SONG OF THE AURA

Brother Thief

Winter Warrior

Grym Prophet

Golden Tide

Dire Sparks

Storm Kings

THE EXCATHER CYCLE

Mordred

Book Two, coming late 2012

SHORT STORY COLLECTIONS

Dreams of Steel

STANDALONE FANTASY

Ghostwalker, coming Summer 2012

PREVIEW OF

-THE SONG OF THE AURA-

BOOK FOUR

-GOLDEN TIDE-

Vail Kammerdan, Sky Strider of Vastion, had always dreamed of giving his life for his kingdom... he had just never supposed the chance would come like it did.

A storm was brewing on the horizon, darker and fiercer than any Vail had ever seen. It seemed as if the thunderheads were slowly eating away at the sky, consuming it mile by mile, ready to devour the heavens. Below him, the world crawled by at the mesmerizing rate he had come to know so well when flying.

For days the land of Vastion had been a carpet of rolling, forested foothills beneath him. As Vail kept watch, though, the foothills grew taller, higher, and stronger, until they were bastions of sharp-edged, flat-faced, blue-tinted stone: Stormness, the Rain Mountains. It was a sight to see, dark and forbidding under the gathering storm, but majestic enough to steal one's breath away.

Skreeeeeeeeeeee!
The call of Windwing, the far-eagle that bore Vail and his companion, rent the air with its harsh beauty. The gigantic bird swooped almost low enough to brush the tops of the mountains, which had began to be dappled by snow. The crisp, cold air at the roof of the world nearly ripped Vail's breath from his lungs, but he had long since grown used to the high altitudes.

“Silence, Windwing,” urged Vail's companion, “We know not what awaits us.” The far-eagle twitched its head as it felt the command with both hearing and mind, as well as through a gentle but firm tug on the steering lines. It ended the call and flew on in silence.

By now the far-eagle's flight was taking them between cliffs and peaks as both Vail and his companion scanned the landscape below them with practiced eyes. After several minutes had gone by, however, there seemed to be no sign of their destination.

“I see nothing, Windmaster,” Vail murmured without stopping his search to glance at his companion. Windmaster Karanel Winter had been his friend for years, and his master for even more, but she would spare him nothing if he let his attention stray, even now... especially now.

“How many times must I tell you, Vail?” his master sighed, shifting her position at his side, “You need more than your eyes to see...” Windmaster Karanel was scarce fifteen years older than he, and the youngest Windmaster in Vastion, but she never ceased to have something undeniably
wise
to say. As familiar as he was with her, Vail never lost the sense of awe she gave him.

“I'm not sure I understand, Ka- Windmaster,” Vail shivered in the chilly, rushing air, and tried to mumble his way past the slip in her title.

“Nor did you the last three times I told you,” Karanel said with mock ferocity. Then, to Vail's surprise, she turned from keeping watch and nudged him to look at her. With an awkward twist Vail brought himself into a rough kneeling position facing her, unsure of what would come next.

The Windmaster's pale braid whipped back and forth behind her as she pursed her lips, staring hard at her student while still keeping a ready hand on Windwing's steering lines.

“Wind Striding is more than just jumping higher and leaping farther than anyone else, Vail. It's more than just controlling the wind... it's
listening
to it as well. The sky has a voice... it has currents just like the sea- we can all feel them. It has colors, too, only most people can't see them. Listen to the wind, and then maybe you will finally see the sky for what it is.”

“I... I'll try,” Vail stammered, knowing he'd missed an important point and now had to have it explained to him.

“No, you'll
do
it,” Karanel told him, patting his shoulder with a free hand. “I know you can, Vail. Just keep trying- you have a fine future ahead of you.”

“But what if we've missed it talking just now?”

“We haven't,” was all she said before turning to scan the mountains again. Vail wondered how she could have sensed that- could she really be that powerful? He didn't doubt it.

Bowing his head, he moved back into his former position and let his eyes graze the swiftly moving landscape beneath them. The wind and floating snow seemed to rush at him from all angles, every solitary flake visible and vital in his heightened state of awareness.

The first snowflake brushed his cheek, carried by a winter breeze. Vail started violently, almost upsetting his place on Windwing, and causing the far-eagle to emit a high-pitched moan of distress.

“Vail! What's wrong?” Windmaster Karanel was instantly responsive, but he could not answer her.

The frost... the wind... it felt like
fear
. It smelled of blood and iron, and it... it was menacing him. It was darkening... the sky was darkening... On the edge of his hearing, he thought he could hear screaming... What was happening?

“The
wind
...” he whispered hoarsely, “It's... it's...”

“Blast!” Karanel swore, and Vail winced at the Northland curse. “I can feel it! By Halla...”

“Wait, wait... I... I can see the wind! I can see it!” Vail could barely contain himself at the surge of mixed pride and fear. Whatever horrible thing had happened, the wind was bringing him news of it! He could see the currents like living things, flows of color and sound with individual meanings, instead of formless, howling bursts of air.

“Wind of the gods!” Karanel shouted, sending Windwing into a steep, right-turning dive. “There must be a battle raging in Amestone!”

PREVIEW OF

-THE EXCATHER CYCLE-

BOOK ONE

-MORDRED-

Night lay over all of Ancient Britton. It darkened the forests of Rience in the South and swept haughtily over the mountains of Darkumbra in the North. It lay heavily over the forgotten realms of Albion and Cornwall, but over the western empire of Caledonia it floated like a dream. Great forests rustled mysteriously in the midnight wind, mingling sounds of beast and tree and fountain. Immense plains and fields of shadowed amber and muted green swayed in this same breath of air, and mountains rumbled and spoke with hidden thunder. As the wind blew across the realms of living men, the halls of wood and stone sent up to heaven a melody of their own, a silence built by years of toil and valorous deeds. Camelot, the mightiest city of that age, slept in a mantle of moonlight, a monumental guardian of the land.

“Arthur.”
A voice whispered through the night like a breath of wind. No answer.

“Arthur.”
It breathed through the forests, across the fields, under the mountains, and right to Camelot's doors. No answer.

“Arthur.”
A barely perceptible shiver ran through the walls and towers, keeps and steeples of the great city. No answer.

“Arthur.”
The King of Caledonia woke with a start, the voice calling his name through the halls of time.

“Arthur.”
He sat up slowly, feeling for Gwen and knowing she was beside him, asleep. Quietly, he slipped out of bed and dressed, all the while that whispering windy call driving him to wakefulness.

“Arthur.”
Slipping in and out of the nightly shadows, he made his way to the topmost tower of the palace: Merlin's observatory. Slowly and sleepily he made his way past all of the wizard's jumbled artifacts and books. There was a door in the opposite wall that would lead him to a balcony that looked out over the whole sleeping city.