Synopsis
The story starts several thousand years in the past with a rebellion in which humans defeat their non human masters, the Dalcians, and force them into exile. The exile in question is a different plane of existence where the magical and long lived Dalcians hide and nurse their hatred.
Near to the period in which the novel is based one of this magical race, a half breed called Leuka, rebels against this creed of hatred. Failing in his rebellion he escapes to the human world carrying with him a powerful talisman that could save or enslave the human race, depending on who has it. In this modern human world magic is banned by the religion governs all the kingdoms.
Leuka is hunted down by the Dalcians but by the time they find him he has passed on the talisman to his pregnant wife. The wife dies in child birth leaving only the talisman and the name Leuka for the child.
Upon coming of age this younger Leuka together with his adopted brother travel out to see something of the world. They meet up with several people one of which is the enigmatic Thanos who, it turns out, is head of an organisation of Assassins and mages. Leuka and his companions are attacked by soldiers because of their association with Thanos during which Leuka discovers a hitherto unknown magical ability.
Thanos rescues Leuka sending him with a mage to one of their hideouts. During the rescue Thanos discovers that the head of the church may in fact be a mage himself and not entirely human. On investigation of stolen records they discover that the Dalcians were not merely a myth but a real race that is about to try and return, to a world that hates and distrusts the magic that could save it.
Leuka is captured by the Dalcians and taken to their home plane. There he is given an alternative version of history by the Dalcians, who are lying to try and locate the talisman he inherited. The talisman has the ability to hide from anyone who is not wearing it. Before he is fully deceived he is contacted by an underground group within the Dalcian race who are seeking what his father wanted. Once he is told his fathers true history he agrees to help.
Although the Dalcians are free to attack from where they are their best chance for success is to manipulate the human kingdoms into attacking each other and thereby weakening themselves first. To properly attack after that however they need the talisman to allow them to return their cities from the etheric plane back to the human world.
To stop this Leuka works together with Thanos organisation in order to get the human armies in position ready for the Dalcian s return and to return them before they are ready. Unfortunately no one believes that the Dalcians exist so the Human armies have to be tricked into position by rumour of threats from their neighbours. To stop this from doing exactly what the Dalcians want (humans warring with each other) Leuka has to use the talisman to bring the cities back when the armnies are in place and before they attack each other.
With help Leuka manages to get to the vital location to perform the necessary ritual but is ambushed there by the Dalcian Archmage. The magic used in their fight, together with the presence of the talisman in this vital location causes the cities to appear in front of a very surprised, but battle ready, human race.
Leuka s survival of his battle and the ritual is unsure due to the unforeseen backlash of forces. If he survived he did not does so unscathed.
Example from first chapter:
As he neared his destination he slowed to a walk. The fighting was already over before he arrived.
In a large clearing he could see five armed men standing in a loose semi-circle facing away from him. The man at the centre was holding an unarmed man at knife point and, from what could be heard from this distance, was demanding to know were he had hidden his wealth.
All around the clearing he could see other people. Women, children and the older members of what he assumed to be the unarmed man s band. On the floor were several bodies; the band had obviously not given up meekly. Despite his lack of familiarity with human society it was clear that the armed men were bandits. He took in all this in a second, and then drew his knife.
As he did so he saw the bandit leader smash the man he was questioning across his face with the back of his hand. At this point one of the women dived forward and punched the bandit squarely on the chin, rocking his head back. His retaliation was instantaneous; catching the woman on the side of her head with his fist he sent her sprawling.
Seeing all this from his hiding point he realised he could watch no longer, he had to act. Knife in hand he stepped out into the clearing. This action in itself drew the eyes of all the people ranged around the clearing; which in turn caused the bandits to spin round and look.
At first they were taken aback by his appearance. He was tall, even for a Dalcian, being close to seven feet tall. When they saw he was alone however they relaxed a little. He could almost hear what they were thinking - tall he is, but only slightly built for all his height. Just one man with only a dagger drawn.
He allowed these thoughts to buoy their confidence for a few seconds before blurring into action.
The knife flew from his hand, almost seeming to move of it s own volition, to strike the bandit furthest left high up in his chest. The heavy blade smashed through the man s sternum with ease. The bandit s face registered surprise as he was thrown back with the force of the blow, blood flying from his gaping mouth.
In the few moments of shocked inaction this caused amongst the bandits a second knife was out, flying to embed itself in the solar plexus of the bandit furthest to the right of the group.
Spurred into action the three remaining bandits finally started to move but their opponent was already moving. Diving to the right, almost following his second knife s path, he drew his sword in one fluid motion from its sheath with a barely audible whisper. With a seemingly effortless grace the slightly curved blade sheared through the leather jerkin and stomach of the bandit nearest him. To the amazed spectators the cut seemed to be part of the act of drawing the sword.
The final two bandits attacked almost simultaneously, the leader attacking a fraction of a second after his underling. The underling went down with a scream as the gleaming blade of his opponent sliced cleanly through his right arm and slammed into his chest, throwing him away in a shower of blood.
The force with which he delivered the blow threw him further round than he had anticipated and he very nearly failed to bring his blade back up in time to block the bandit leader s strike. As it was his block took most of the force of the blow but he still received a bad cut along the side of his ribcage.
Too close for sword work he struck out with the elbow of his sword arm, driving it into the bandit s chest causing the man to stagger backwards. He followed this with a backhanded slash at the man s head. The bandit managed to throw his sword up in a hasty attempt at a block, but quickly realised his error. In a stunning display of speed and strength the backhand strike was switched to a forehand cut from the other side, neatly bypassing the blocking sword.
The bandit leader however did not have time to appreciate the artistry of this piece of sword work as his head virtually leapt from his shoulders.
The man looked down at the last bandit, then at his own side. Arrogant, he thought. I should keep my Dalcian arrogance under control or it is likely to be the death of me.
It was not a life-threatening wound but he knew he should attend to it immediately. He relaxed and visualised the wound in his mind, willing his picture of the wound to appear before him even with his eyes open. Positioning his image over the actual wound he took a deep breath. Drawing on his inner strength he altered his image of the wound causing it to give the impression of healing. At the same time he willed the real wound to conform to the changes in the image. Gradually the real wound closed and the bruised flesh either side of it changed to a healthier colour.
Whispering a simple incantation to give the healing permanency he looked up, into awestruck eyes. Too late he realised what effect such a display might have upon these humans. He could hear the whispered speculation all around, wondering if he were some kind of cleric.
So be it, he thought. If they wish to believe it was some kind of priestly miracle let them.
The man the bandits had been interrogating got to his feet and walked forwards. He was no longer a young man but his bearing defied anyone to call him old. His brown hair had some streaks of silver in it but the iron grey of his gaze carried with it vitality not age. To his left and slightly behind him stood the woman who had championed his cause.
Friend we owe you our deepest thanks for our liberation, he said then paused, looking at the bandit leaders body. And probably for saving our lives too.
His voice had a pleasant bass rumble to it making it very easy to listen to, “Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Alantar and this is my daughter Alhana. We are all merchants here,” he said indicating the others in the clearing.
“I would like to add my thanks to those of my fathers,” said Alhana, breaking her silence for the first time. “How are you called sir?”
Her voice mesmerised him, looking with eyes of green into eyes of fox brown he could not refuse to answer. Forcing his voice, inactive for what had seemed like eons, into use he spoke.
“Leuka, my name is Leuka.”
