Sub-genre: Epic Fantasy
About The Sky Slayer:
All who kill a pterosaur are cursed. But Rob Sardan went a step further - he killed their King.
To break the curse he must escape a prison of ice and crystal, south of south, beyond all hope. With a ragtag team of former pirates, a failed thief and a strategist who cannot be trusted, they seek a ship that can sail on a sea of fire.
They must cross the grinding ice, challenge an empire, and face the dread pirate Skagra before she unleashes the Crown of Black Glass. But above all, Rob must face the ghosts of what he has become…
King Killer. Sword-breaker. Sky Slayer.
'Glory is like a circle in the water which never ceaseth to enlarge itself, till, by broad spreading, it disperses to naught'.
Excerpt:
The sea had broken him. Rob Sardan had looked into the waters and had
seen his reflection. In the storms, the red winds, and the cold, he had
learned what he was. He had wanted to be a hero, but what had he turned
into?
King-killer. Sky-slayer. Sword-breaker.
A squawk distracted him, and he looked into a snow speckled tree. Nestled in the needles was a lizard-bird, its silver and white wings making it difficult to discern. Rob gave it a smile, and it chattered its toothy beak. It was the first living thing besides his captors and fellow prisoners that he had seen in two years. The thought sent a hollow feeling into him, and he felt the chasm of the future; a void of snow and isolation at the end of the world.
“She won’t give you time off,” a voice snapped. Rob sunk back into his hiding place.
“I know, but I’m still going to try,” a higher voice said.
They were pengs. Short, feathery and coated in armour. One was carrying her helmet under one arm, her wide fingers tapping the pearl and gold patterns that ran through the metal. The other peng was still wearing hers, the visor pulled down so that it extended into a spike that ran over her beak.
“Commander,” the peng holding her helmet said. “You think I could get transferred to the north some time?”
“You’ll have to be a bit more specific, Aisling,” her commander replied. “Literally everywhere is north from here.”
Even though he couldn’t see her, Rob was sure she was glowering. This was Kerrok, the commander of guards. How did she always manage to find him?
“I mean Penguve,” Aisling sniffed. “Need to check on my sisters and see if mother needs more food sending her way. Got connections now, don’t I?”
“Loads,” Kerrok snorted. “We’re connected to everyone. That’s if you ignore that giant wasteland surrounding us. Get through fifty miles of snow, ice and maybe a mountain or two, and then you can use those connections.”
“I’d get a proper escort; I’m not stupid. Next time the supplies come, you know? I’d hop on one of them new snow ships they got.”
“Well, good luck to you. I’ve been bothering Lomi about a transfer for ages.”
“I heard you’d asked to be here!”
“I did.” Kerrok prodded Aisling until she put her helmet on. “Didn’t meet my expectations.”
A hollow sound rang above their heads. Rob looked beyond the trees to the snow-capped ice cliffs that loomed overhead. A battalion was standing atop them, waving banners that showed a white peng crowned with laurels. Kerrok and Aisling rummaged in their packs and produced another banner. This one showed a dark blue snowflake surrounded by a chain of white links on a black field. The same banner flew all around the prison, and Rob was all too familiar with it.
“Don’t be shy, Sardan,” Kerrok said, waving at her companions. “I’m sure the new arrivals won’t be intimidated by the sight of you.”
King-killer. Sky-slayer. Sword-breaker.
A squawk distracted him, and he looked into a snow speckled tree. Nestled in the needles was a lizard-bird, its silver and white wings making it difficult to discern. Rob gave it a smile, and it chattered its toothy beak. It was the first living thing besides his captors and fellow prisoners that he had seen in two years. The thought sent a hollow feeling into him, and he felt the chasm of the future; a void of snow and isolation at the end of the world.
“She won’t give you time off,” a voice snapped. Rob sunk back into his hiding place.
“I know, but I’m still going to try,” a higher voice said.
They were pengs. Short, feathery and coated in armour. One was carrying her helmet under one arm, her wide fingers tapping the pearl and gold patterns that ran through the metal. The other peng was still wearing hers, the visor pulled down so that it extended into a spike that ran over her beak.
“Commander,” the peng holding her helmet said. “You think I could get transferred to the north some time?”
“You’ll have to be a bit more specific, Aisling,” her commander replied. “Literally everywhere is north from here.”
Even though he couldn’t see her, Rob was sure she was glowering. This was Kerrok, the commander of guards. How did she always manage to find him?
“I mean Penguve,” Aisling sniffed. “Need to check on my sisters and see if mother needs more food sending her way. Got connections now, don’t I?”
“Loads,” Kerrok snorted. “We’re connected to everyone. That’s if you ignore that giant wasteland surrounding us. Get through fifty miles of snow, ice and maybe a mountain or two, and then you can use those connections.”
“I’d get a proper escort; I’m not stupid. Next time the supplies come, you know? I’d hop on one of them new snow ships they got.”
“Well, good luck to you. I’ve been bothering Lomi about a transfer for ages.”
“I heard you’d asked to be here!”
“I did.” Kerrok prodded Aisling until she put her helmet on. “Didn’t meet my expectations.”
A hollow sound rang above their heads. Rob looked beyond the trees to the snow-capped ice cliffs that loomed overhead. A battalion was standing atop them, waving banners that showed a white peng crowned with laurels. Kerrok and Aisling rummaged in their packs and produced another banner. This one showed a dark blue snowflake surrounded by a chain of white links on a black field. The same banner flew all around the prison, and Rob was all too familiar with it.
“Don’t be shy, Sardan,” Kerrok said, waving at her companions. “I’m sure the new arrivals won’t be intimidated by the sight of you.”
About Joel Cornah:
Joel Kristoffer Cornah, hailing from a small isolated village in Lancashire, is the author responsible for The Sea-Stone Sword.
He was awarded a degree in Creative
Writing from Liverpool John Moors University and spent seven years
writing a comical newspaper for The Barrow Downs Tolkien discussion
forum. Accompanying this paper was a comic strip series called The
Phantom and Alien, a bizarre story of bus drivers, dead people, and a
slime child bent on inconveniencing everyone around him. Currently
working for a charity café in Parbold village, Joel is often found deep
in discussion of the works of J.R.R. Tolkien, the long history of Doctor
Who, and desperately trying not to frighten people away. Often with
limited success.
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