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The Savior of Samever
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ISBN-10: 1-55404-202-X
ISBN-13: 
Genre: Fantasy/SF/Medieval
eBook Length: 244 Pages
Published: November 2004
OUT OF PRINT

From inside the flap

Samever is an ancient city, with ancient ways. Soon the lives of its people will change forever.

A secret society plots against the city rulers, while the Divine Trivine falls to corruption in the vast labyrinth of the Temple. The lines are being drawn between the two factions, when someone makes an unexpected appearance. They call him the Demon of the Shallow Mountains. Some revere him; some fear him; but everyone is mystified by him.

Amid this controversy and conflict, a terror comes out of the north to shatter the spirit of the city. The people believe the mysterious Demon of the Shallow Mountains is their only hope, but can he overcome his own demons in time to save them?


Reviews and Awards

?Like some of today’s most popular fantasy fiction, the book has a young hero, 13-year-old Eldin, whose father has been killed and who has now to look after his mother and young sisters.

?Eldin befriends the so-called Demon, who is deemed the Deliverer by the Changers. Will this character, whose existence is shrouded in mystery, be up to the challenges that confront him?

?Harrison draws upon such devices as are available to fantasy fiction writers: creating a world different from our own, but with recognizable attributes; a ?Deliverer? with superhuman powers; crafty and brutal villains who may be destroyed with impunity; and people of good will who deserve to triumph in the end.

?The book offers plenty of adventures as young Eldin joins the Changers in conspiring to overthrow the Divine Trivine and as the Demon/Deliverer overcomes the uncertainties of his origins before coming into his full powers.

?? Fans of fantasy fiction such as ?The Lord of the Rings? and the Harry Potter books should enjoy ?The Savior of Samever.??

Excerpted from the article ?Local Author Takes Readers on a Trip to ’Samever,?? a book review of The Savior of Samever which appeared in the Southern Illinoisan newspaper in 2003. Reviewed by BEN GELMAN, editor.


The Savior of Samever (Excerpt)


Prologue

Fatigue. Despair. I am finished. I cannot go on anymore. The handle falls from my feeble fingers. All is hazy now, as the glow of the afterlife surrounds me. My dim enemies fade away. Oh! Where are my brothers? I need you!

The blade of my weapon strikes the ground and slides easily into the soft earth. I watch it sink until the hilt is buried in the grass. Time seems unrealistically slow, and the shapes around me diminish.

"You are the one!" someone shouts. I look and see Kemlain, my brother. He looks strange. Then I see my other brothers, Kensho and Kemmen, and my father, Kassar.

"It was always you!" Kemmen says.

I look on them in wonder, for they have laid their weapons down and stand before me together, impervious to the battle. They are my own blood, but they are not the same anymore. I begin to run toward them and almost lose my head to one of my enemies? red swords. I want to say a thousand things to them, for I never expected to see them again, but I can only cry. Large drops fall from my eyes as I race through the deadly gauntlet of blades to reach them.

"You are the one," my father confirms. The mark of the Kessarians is daubed around his left eye. My brothers and I bear the same mark in the same place. A massive amulet hangs around his neck. I shake my head in disbelief as I enter the sanctity of their presence. On my knees, I tremble. "I love you, my son," Kassar says with his hand on my shoulder. I look up at him and see two figures in his place. My father is there as I have always known him, and someone else is there, too. Someone I never knew in this realm, and yet he looks somehow familiar, as though I have seen glimpses of him before. I look on my brothers and see that they are not alone either, but each has someone with him I do not know. I stare in awe at the magic around me, and they begin to dissipate, fading away into the air.

"We are always with you," Kensho says. He is my big brother; the one who has rescued me a thousand times and steered me safely out of scary waters.

As they vanish, I stammer, "Please! Do not leave me!"

The ugliness of combat settles upon me again. They are gone, and I am in the middle of an evil horde of men wielding fiery swords. I think that the vision must have been brought on by weariness and delirium and that my father and brothers are still fighting somewhere. They have not left me. Then I feel a weight around my neck. It is the amulet of my people that my father was wearing.

Truly, they are gone, and all hope has vanished with them. I weep for the wretched turn of events that ruined my life?a life that only months ago was blissful, pure, and golden. It is black now, charred and soaked in blood; only ashes remain. My enemies overcome me, and I go down, down to death never to rise again.


Spiritless


1

Forgotten. Forlorn. He sat alone in the cold wild. They called him the Demon. His appearance was worthy of the title as he hunkered atop an icy summit, wearing the skin of a razorbeast. The grisly hide both kept him warm and enhanced the terrifying stories told in the nearby villages when wary travelers caught a glimpse of him flying through the trees or scaling the bluffs. They saw the beast’s skull that served as his hood, the fangs, and the sharp shadows cast over his face, certain that he was inhuman and evil.

He did not know what he was or where he came from. He only was and for years he had struggled to understand what that meant. The meaning of his existence eluded him. He wondered where he was, why everything looked unfamiliar and alien to him, and why he could not remember anything. His mind hollow, his senses numb, and his memory cut off, he haunted the Shallow Mountains searching for something. He would have sought sanity if he knew what it was, but all he knew was the life he now lived. No traces of the previous one remained. All he had were the hideous flashbacks, snatches of his former life, and the nightmares that tormented him regularly.

How many seasons had passed while he wasted away in the barren, cold country of the Shallow Mountains? He pondered this as twilight fell and the moon rose. The second moon, green tonight, came out as well. One of the few things he found pleasure in was watching the cycle of the moons as the seasons waxed and waned. The second moon did not come out often, but when it did, he loved to lie on his back and admire it all night long in the open space of the wild. The second moon appeared in varying colors throughout the year, and each night that it was visible it transitioned from the dark to bright shade of each hue. Seeing the colored night-disk released him from the turmoil of his mind and made him feel at peace, more connected to other people and less lonely in the knowledge that he was not the only one who looked upon it in wonder. When he saw the colored moon, his mind became clearer, even if he could only recall new memories.

The oldest of these was waking up on the shore not far from the bluffs. He was lying facedown when he was startled by a large crab scuttling sideways over the sand. His back and neck were dry from the hot sun and salty breeze. His lips were cracked, and his tongue lolled in his mouth. He struggled to his feet and began walking away from the sea. He knew nothing in that moment, the oldest moment he could remember, except that he had to escape the ocean and the merciless sun. He stumbled inland until he reached a wood and then searched until he found a bubbling brook. One of his most vivid memories was the sweetness of the water that he drank there all those numberless years ago. He made the trek back to revisit the place where he made the first pleasant memory he possessed, and each time he went back he told himself that he would give it up, along with all of his new memories, all for a mere glimpse of his previous life.

From the brook he moved on, crossing several others, and made his way into the Shallow Mountains where he now lived as the Demon in the minds of the villagers. He, of course, was oblivious to this assigned name. Squatting on his haunches like an animal, he was aware only of the steam coming out of his nostrils into the cold night air and the raw chill telling his senses that, whatever his circumstance, he was alive.

Soon he fell asleep, lying on his back and wrapped in the warm fur that served as his cloak. Like always, he dreamed, but this time it was not an unpleasant experience. Normally, he endured either mad, chaotic nightmares or fantastic dreams of light, hope and happiness; everything he could not possess in real life. Tonight his dream was the sanest vision he had experienced since he awoke on the shore, and it made him feel more human than he could ever remember feeling.



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