When a midnight raid destroys his village, ten year old Darin is the only survivor. Alone and stripped of hope, barely clinging to life, he is found by Hornwalker, the Shaman of a nomadic tribe of Kessari, demi-humans sharing many traits with theMoreWhen a midnight raid destroys his village, ten year old Darin is the only survivor.
Alone and stripped of hope, barely clinging to life, he is found by Hornwalker, the Shaman of a nomadic tribe of Kessari, demi-humans sharing many traits with the goats they herd and the great plains bison they revere.Against the wishes of the chief, and by extension, the majority of the tribe, Darin is fostered by the Shaman and his family.
Granted a second chance at life by the Kessari Goddess, Darin may eventually prove a pivotal piece in the Goddess schemes, but first he must survive to adulthood in a society that would rather see him dead - and is willing to rip itself apart trying to achieve that end - and his own increasingly fractured psyche.Old School Fantasy with dark undertones.An excerpt from Axemans Proxy:“They’re building a bloody temple!”Ustin leapt to his feet, pacing nervously around his small living room.
“They’re building a bloody temple!” he repeated.“Just the one, Ustin.” Frinn seemed unconcerned by his host’s behaviour. He calmly sipped at his greybean tea.“Isn’t that enough ?” Ustin spun on a hoof and glared at the grey and brown Kessari.
Darin shrunk into his own padded chair, trying to avoid notice.“Too many!” His mane rose as he answered his own question, a jagged cloud circling his shoulders. “Do you know what that means ?”Frinn snorted, his voice heavy with sarcasm, “No, Ustin. I was out fishing when I thought ‘I wonder if the cultivator has suddenly discovered a passion for architecture. If he has, then he’ll certainly want to hear about this temple.’ So me and the boy rowed back here on the off chance.”Ustin’s eyes narrowed dangerously as he sucked in a breath.“What does it mean ?” Darin spoke quickly, hoping to forestall the argument that looked imminent.Frinn looked across to the cultivator, who nodded and lowered his mane before stumping into a chair.“Before a raid, the garim seek approval from their own, dark gods.
They might hold a feast and make sacrifices to the gods, or they might consecrate a new shrine, like the building you saw.“That was no roadside shrine, Frinn.”Frinn remained silent and gave the boy time to reach his own conclusion.
After a few minutes of silent reflection he looked at Ustin. “I think its even worse than you think. I think Dekaroj has chosen an Avatar.”