By David Gemmell
The Drenai stronghold had fallen. Now blood-hungry Nadir hordes unfold desolation and depression throughout all of the lands...
...even tiny Gothir, the place slavers seized a tender woman whereas the villagers regarded the opposite way--all however the peasant boy Kiall. His not going rescue try might lead around the savage steppes and on in the course of the Halls of Hell. The formative years could face ferocious beasts, lethal warriors, and demons of the darkish; he could emerge a man--or no longer emerge at all.
But Kiall wouldn't face those hazards by myself. Heroes out of legend joined his quest: Chareos the Blademaster, Beltzer the Axeman, and the bowmen Finn and Maggrig. And one amongst their corporation concealed a mystery which could loose the realm of Nadir domination. That one used to be the Nadir Bane, the wish of the Drenai. That one was once the Earl of Bronze.
Thus did a look for a stolen slave woman develop into a quest that will shake the very global.
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Extra info for Quest for Lost Heroes (Drenai Tales, Book 3)
Example text
The man nodded, and ran on to the others as the soldiers arrived and hurled themselves into the work. Three of the homes were saved, but the barn fire raged on. Several axemen hammered an entrance at the rear of the building, allowing others to enter and drag clear what grain sacks could be saved. The battle went on long into the evening, but finally the fires died down. Chareos walked to a nearby stream and washed his face and hands of grime. He looked down at his new clothes. The jerkin was singed, as were the troos; the shirt was blackened by smoke, the boots scuffed.
Next week, you come to the castle. ' Chareos bowed as the Earl strode from the hall. There was still some juice in the pitcher, and he refilled his goblet and wandered to the window, watching as the Earl's retinue rode from the monastery. It had been a long time since those names had been voiced: Beltzer, Maggrig and Finn. He could still see the red-bearded giant hammering his battle-axe into the Nadir as they swarmed over the gate-tower wall. And each evening the bowmen, Maggrig and Finn, would compare scores and write them in charcoal on the granite wall.
The white-robed Senior sat by the table and gazed up at the sky. 'The Heavens are incredible,' he whispered. ' 'Indeed they are,' agreed Chareos, sitting opposite the old man. ' 'No, Father. I am still a doubter. ' The Senior waved a slender hand. 'Not at all. Those who seek Him find Him . . but in His own time. But you have been here two years now, and I wonder what holds you. ' Chareos smiled. 'There is comfort in belonging, Father. ' 'True. Perhaps the answer is, simply, that I do not know.