Dragon Sword by Christopher Patterson (Demon’s Fire #1)
English | 2020 | Fantasy | ePUB | 3.0 MB
Erik Eleodum has vanquished a dragon and is called a hero, but his journey into darkness is far from over.
After two years away, Erik returns home and wants nothing more than to live a simple life of a farmer. But he knows that isn’t possible. The task that the infamous Lord of the East looms heavy, and failure means death…not just his, but the ones he loves.
Erik must leave his home once again to fulfill his promise to a ruler he knows he can’t trust and, soon, on the road to the cursed tower of Fealmynster, enemies old and new threaten him. And a new shadow infiltrates not only the real world, but the dream world as well.
In both worlds where he exists, Erik must search for answers, salvation, and his purpose, hoping they can be found in the Dragon Sword.
Darius, the General Lord Marshall, marched down the hallway leading to the throne room. Reflecting his urgency, his thudding boots echoed off the cavernous walls of the capitol building of Amentus, a building hundreds of years old, built from white marble. The arched ceilings, painted to look like a crystal blue sky with puffy, white clouds, aided the acoustics of the corridor, and the ancient builders had a purpose behind such construction. One man could stand at one end of a hallway and shout anything—a command, a proclamation, or a call for help—and someone standing at the other end, some fifty paces distant, could hear him as if they stood next to each other.
As the Lord Marshall stomped by, guards placed at regular intervals slammed their right, gauntleted fists into their breastplates as they saluted. Positioned next to the pillars which formed part of a fake colonnade—they didn’t hold up any weight but were simply an architect’s embellishments—these men and women who guarded the capitol building were the best trained, most fearless, and most devout soldiers. As they saluted Darius, it meant more than any other salute—it was true respect.
He came to the tall, solid double doors made of a light oak leading to the throne room, each etched with the carving of a gigantic sun. The two men who guarded the doors saluted. As with all of the guards, they wore plate mail that covered every part of their bodies and made from the best steel, save for Dwarf’s Iron. A sun with seven points—the symbol of Amentus—was emblazoned on their breastplates. They lifted their visors.
“Open,” the General Lord Marshall said.
“Sir …” one of the guards began.
“I don’t have time,” the General Lord Marshall snapped. He knew King Agempi was in a meeting with his advisors and politicians. It was an important meeting, something to do with the economic situation of their country and the steps they needed to take to rectify whatever issues they were having. It was all over Darius’ head and the reason why he loved being a soldier and never accepted the King’s offer to make him a senator or advisor of state. “Open the damn door.”
Both men lowered their visors and stepped to the side, drawing their tower shields—painted blue with a yellow sun at the center—close to their bodies in attention. One of them knocked on the double door. They opened.