LEGENDS OF KALDA
THE DRAGONS’
LEGACY
TALES OF THE AMULET · I
DAN ZANGARI
ROBERT ZANGARI
Copyright 2012 LOK Publishing
All Rights Reserved
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ISBN 13: 978-0-9979598-4-0
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TALES OF THE AMULET
THE DRAGON’S LEGACY
THE ELVEN SECRET
THE MAGES’ AGENDA
TREACHERY IN THE KINGDOM
SHORT STORIES
THE LAST BARSIONIST
Contents
Prologue
1: In the Beginning…
2: An Uprising
3: Opportunity
4: Voyage
5: Draco Isola
6: Warrens
7: Deception
8: Battle
9: Reversal
10: Return
11: Clandestine Homecoming
12: Conquest
13: Consequences
14: Reformation
15: Clues
16: The Baron of Sereth
Epilogue
Ilnari’s Charge
Glossary
Author’s Afterword
Special Offer
About the Authors
Other titles by the Authors
Connect with the Authors
Illustrations
Kalda World Map
Soroth Map
Dragon’s Isle Map
Dedicated to Belinda, a loving wife and mother, which with her devotion and encouragement made this work possible
Prologue
On a remote island in the south eastern ocean of the world of Kalda, an expedition searches through the ruins of an ancient people. At first glance, the ruins are a cluster of finely chiseled stone buildings along the foothills, with half of the structures built into the rocky range.
Along the borders of the ruins, several men dressed in tanned clothing, long sleeved tunics, and pants, search through debris.
From the west, two tall and burly men walk side by side toward the explorers investigating the ruins. Each of them are clad in chain-linked armor, yet one older than the other.
The elder man is past middle-aged and stands slightly shorter than his companion. Two weapons are sheathed along his belt, both as long as a man’s forearm, while a large sheathed sword hangs upon his younger companion’s back.
“Krindal,” the older man calls out as he nears the excavation site, “I hope your men haven’t ventured too far.”
Roused by the beckoning, an old man looks up, dressed in a dark robe commonly worn by wielders of necrotic magic. His wrinkled eyes stare at the two armor-clad men as he steps around the explorers, all the while clearing his throat.
“No…” the old necromancer calls out. “Not too far, Cornar.”
“Good,” Cornar states as he and his younger companion near the old necromancer.
“The buildings seem to go into the mountain,” Krindal continues. “Which confirms what we found in Klindala. If the rest of our prior findings are true, then the caverns below will take awhile to search. We will be out here while you and your warriors secure the inner parts.”
“Very well,” Cornar nods his head, stopping several steps away from the old necromancer.
While taking a deep breath Cornar studies the ruins, then glances back toward the direction he had come with his companion. A dark sky in the west accompanies a slight breeze, heralding a coming storm.
“Kalder, gather the others,” Cornar commands the younger man beside him.
“Right away, Cor,” Kalder complies, walking back toward the western shore.
Once Kalder leaves, Cornar returns his gaze to the ruins and walks past the explorers. While probing deeper into the ancient structures, he cautiously grasps the hilts of his weapons. As an experienced warrior and battle-hardened adventurer, Cornar could instinctively recognize a potentially dangerous situation.
After a moment, the aged warrior reaches a large circular courtyard; the ancient buildings are worn but their beautiful detail shows through the extensive weathering. He looks across the courtyard, and sees part of its circumference carved into the mountainside.
Perhaps it’s that way… Cornar wonders while vigilantly studying the buildings carved into the mountain, his green eyes warily searching for any indigenous life.
Several minutes pass without incident until Kalder returns with nine others, all clad in armor with weapons hoisted around their waists and upon their backs.
Cornar solemnly looks at each of them then clears his throat, “We’ll split up into groups of four; except for myself, Kalder and Midar. Krindal thinks there could be a maze of catacombs within the mountains. Be careful; we don’t know what creatures could lurk inside these ruins.”
As the warriors divided into three groups, a young man a half a head shorter than Cornar approaches him. This third warrior, Midar, is dressed in similar armor with a single sheathed sword hanging from his waist; he slyly grins and his brown hair sways in the light breeze.
Once organized, each groups walks separately toward the buildings protruding from the mountains, diligently searching the ruins for a passageway into the supposed hewn chambers.
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