Wednesday, July 13, 2016

A Threat of Shadows (The Keeper Chronicles, Book 1) by J.A. Andrews

Release date: July 1, 2016
Subgenre: Epic fantasy

About A Threat of Shadows


There are decisions that can’t be unmade, paths that cannot be unchosen, choices that change us too much for us to ever change back.

In a desperate attempt to save his dying wife, Alaric has sacrificed everything. He’s abandoned his position as advisor to the Queen, he’s cast aside his role as a Keeper, he’s betrayed his deepest beliefs.

And still he has failed.

Now he's found one last chance at a cure. Haunted by the choices he has made and surrounded by companions who have dangerous secrets of their own, he returns to the people and land he turned his back on.

But soon the quest to save his wife becomes entangled with a larger quest. Gathering shadows threaten the land, whispering of the return of a dark lord, thought to be defeated.

To fight this enemy, the world needs the Keeper Alaric used to be, not the broken man he has become.

Can he regain what he’s lost? Or do some choices change us too much for us to ever go back?

Alaric must decide or, in the face of all the growing shadows, it may be the darkness he carries within himself that destroys everything.

A Threat of Shadows is the first book in The Keeper Chronicles, a new classic fantasy series by JA Andrews. 

In a land of magic, elves, and the occasional dragon, an engaging adventure unfolds about what it means to reconcile who you are, with who you thought you’d be. A story of sacrifice, friendship, and the weight of our pasts. If you enjoy epic fantasy with a likable cast of characters, you’ll love this entertaining beginning to Andrews’ new series. 


As he skirted around the tree, a white face thrust itself out of the trunk. Alaric jerked away as the hazy form of a man leaned out toward him. Alaric forced himself to study it.
The figure was a young man. He had faded yellow hair and milky white skin. Once the initial shock wore off, the man was not particularly frightening. 
“You are lost,” the ghost whispered as he passed.
Alaric gave a short laugh. “I’ve been lost many times in my life, but this isn’t one of them. And if it’s your job to scare people off, you should consider saying something more chilling and less…depressing.”
Beast kept walking, and Alaric turned to watch the ghost fade into the darkness behind them. 
A rasp pulled his attention forward. Another white form slid out of the tree they were approaching. This one was a young woman. She was rather pretty, for a ghost.
“Hello.” Alaric gave her a polite nod.
“You have failed,” she whispered. “You have failed everyone.”
Alaric scowled. The words rang uncomfortably true. 
Alaric stopped Beast in front of the ghost. Behind the woman’s face, Alaric saw thin, silver runes carved on the bark. Narrowing his focus, he cast out ahead of them along the trail, brushing against the trunks with his senses. Now that he knew what he was looking for, he felt the subtle humming runes dotting the trees ahead. 
The ghost runes were on almost every tree, faces appearing every few steps. 
“Your powers are worthless,” the next whispered and Alaric flinched. 
“It’s your fault,” another rasped. “All your fault.”
Alaric clenched his jaw and stared ahead as the whispers surrounded him.
When he passed close to one large tree, a ghost thrust out close to him. Alaric turned toward it and saw his own face looking back at him. A pale, wasted version of himself. His black hair was faded to a lifeless grey, and his skin, far from being tanned from traveling, was bleached a wrinkly bone white. Only his eyes had stayed dark, sinking from a healthy brown to deep, black pits. 
Alaric stared, repulsed, at the withered apparition of himself—it was decades older than his forty years. The ghost looked tired, a deep crease furrowed between its brows. Alaric reached up and rubbed his own forehead.
The ghost leaned closer.
“She’s dead,” it whispered.
Guilt stabbed into him, deep and familiar. He shuddered, grabbing the pouch at his neck, his mind flooded with the image of Evangeline’s sunken face.
Alaric slammed his palm against the rune on the trunk. 
Uro!” Pain raced through his hand again. He poured energy into the tree, willing it to burn. The bark smoked as he seared the rune off. 
Out of the corner of his eye, pulses of white light appeared along the path ahead of them. He glanced at them, but the distraction had consequences, and the pain flared, arcing up each finger. He gasped and narrowed his focus back to the energy flowing through his palm. The pain receded slightly. The ghost stared a moment longer, then faded away. Alaric dropped his arm, leaving a hand-shaped scorch mark on the trunk where the rune had been. 
“She’s dead.” 
Alaric’s head snapped forward. 
The trees ahead of him were full of ghosts, each a washed-out version of himself.
“Dead… She’s dead… Dead.” The words filled the air.



About J.A. Andrews:

 JA Andrews is a writer, wife, mother, and unemployed rocket scientist. She doesn't regret the rocket science degree, but finds it generally inapplicable in daily life. Except for the rare occurrence of her being able to definitively state, "That's not rocket science." She does, however, love the stars.

She began writing stories and creating coloring books because these sorts of things need an outlet. And now good markers are a deductible business expense.

She spends an inordinate amount of time at home, with her family, who she adores, and lives deep in the Rocky Mountains of Montana, where she can see more stars than she ever imagined.

Blog | Facebook | Twitter 

No comments:

Post a Comment