|Posted on April 17, 2017 at 10:00 PM|
About the Book
Title: Path of a Novice: The Silvan Book 1
Author: R.K. Lander
A land at war, a failing king, a light in the forest …
Bel’arán, land of mortals, immortals, and those that dwell in between. The elven forest realm of Ea Uaré is threatened by ruthless Sand Lords seeking water, and the undead Deviants who crave the mindless destruction of elves.
The powerful Alpine lords strive to dominate the leaderless native Silvans through power games, leaving in their wake a bereft king, assailed by grief and a family unable to forgive him.
As the king drifts in endless sorrow, the forest people are loosing their identity. Discriminated and belittled, they are the warriors but the Alpine lords are their commanders – until a child is born to the Deep Woods – an elf with the face of an Alpine and the heart of a Silvan, an orphan whose only dream is to dare become a Silvan captain in a world dominated by Alpines – Fel’annár, Green Sun.
A born warrior, to his friends, Fel’annár becomes Hwind’atór, the Whirling Warrior, and together, they will step upon the path of a novice.
Adventure, hardship and self-discovery will mould the warrior he will become. But destiny will not be ignored, and Fel’annár is confronted with the truth of his own abilities and the mystery of his past, one shrouded in sorrow and intrigue – one that may change the course of history.
From child to novice warrior and beyond, Fel’annár is, The Silvan.
R.K. Lander was born in the UK. Fantasy was always a central part of her life and soon began reading authors such as Arthur C. Clarke, Isaac Azimov, Ray Bradbury and J.R.R. Tolkien. Now living and working in Spain, Ruth runs her own business and writes as an independent author.
The Silvan is her first work, a YA epic fantasy trilogy revolving around the figure of a Silvan elf, Fel’annar. The first in the series, Path of a Novice is available for pre-order, and the second, Road of a Warrior, is approaching the editing stage.
There are no grand halls here, only cottages and flets, mighty talans even, but it is all wood and rope, stone and bone, feather and fur for these are the elements of this land.
Yet should we dare venture to the far North, all this changes, for there the forest converges upon the dry lands, the Sand Lands and it is xeric wood - dry and twisted, the ground no longer loamy and wet but dry and brittle. Here, the forest tapers away and the vast dunes of Calrazia extend into the horizon and surely beyond. The Silvans do not go there, for to do so is folly - there is more to those arid lands than sand, and its inhabitants are hostile, rich in all things save water.
The Sand Lords, we call them, not for deference but because their clothing is rich and opulent, their jewels ever on display, even in battle - a stark contrast to the humbleness of our Silvan warriors.
This enemy is cruel and vindictive, barren in all things spiritual and given to satisfying the most questionable of mortal desires. They do not take prisoners, and that is just as well.
Autumn is, perhaps, best experienced in the Great City Fortress of Thargodén King, ruler of the Silvan people, in spite of his Alpine origins. It is here, that the dying light of summer is best contrasted with the opulence of the king’s court. Bright fabrics and shining jewels of red and blue and opalescent whites and all things rich and expensive - an acquired beauty wrought from Aria’s creation by the hands of artisans and craftsmen. It is a different kind of beauty, artificial yet lovely all the same. It is the powerful lords and ladies, the politicians and councillors, merchants and commanders that swim in this colourful sea of silk and gems. Many are Alpine or Pelagic and few are Silvan, and yet it has not always been that way.
Autumn is indeed mild yet still beautiful with its myriad of browns and yellows and fading greens, but this, too, slowly yet inexorably fades, falls once more into frost, and then snow, until all sleeps once more.
All this I know well for I have watched the cycle of seasons for many centuries. I remember them all, and I remember the events that took place between them.
History is my delight, and reason is my need - I am Marhené, chronicler of the Silvan people - the native Silvans of the Deep Forest. I remember and I write so that others may remember and learn and perhaps, the mistakes that were made will not be repeated for surely they would lead to the same end.
And what, you may rightly ask, is the purpose of history, other than to record it? Here is my answer then;
I write history so that its inertia may be stopped;
I write history so as to change it.
The Silvan Chronicles Book III