Arcadis: Prophecy
UK USA CDN AU
I am really enjoying George Kramer’s writing style. It feels fun! Dip into the excerpt below and see if you feel the same. ~ Seann
Book Blurb:
In the beginning of the sorcerer world there existed three primary colored powers red, blue, and yellow. Prior to Lord Quill's ascension to head sorcerer, his predecessor ruled no one was allowed to marry outside of their respective color. Every sorcerer was a primary colored power.
When Lord Quill took control, he did not want anyone to usurp his authority. Thus he ruled no primary colored power may be allowed to marry another primary colored power.
Hence a dilution occurred.
When a blue colored power sorcerer married a yellow powered sorcerer, the baby was green powered and considered a secondary power. When a red colored powered sorcerer married a blue powered sorcerer, it created a purple secondary powered sorcerer and so on.
Can the primaries and secondary's get along or will there be a struggle between the two classes?
Excerpt from Chapter One (Kindle Locations 43- 62).
My name is Arcadis Ander Gildeon and I am in a heap of trouble. It used to be every once in a while a brazen sorcerer would come into my antique shop and ask for the all powerful sorcerer named Arcadis. When I told them it's me, their first response was always laughter. I don't exactly fit into the all powerful sorcerer category. I am not seven feet eight inches tall, have long blond hair, or weigh a ton and a half with muscles the size of Jupiter. I am five feet seven inches tall, with short black hair that's cropped on the sides. I weigh one-seventy soaking wet.
Typically, after their laughter subsided, they would challenge me to a duel to prove their magnanimous sorcery skills. I would give them a weak smile and pretend I was scared. I'd trudge to the back of my antique shop with my head down and shoulders hunched for effect, walk out the door several yards and stand there. There's a track of grassland that leads to a wooded area behind my store. I always stood in the middle of the grass halfway between the store and the woods. Oftentimes they asked where my staff or wand was. I'd tell them I don't have one. Don't need it , I would say. Naturally, they utter what a fool I was and how they will burn me to a crisp or some such nonsense. I'd tire of their rhetoric quickly. Most times I'd asked if they were going to fight or were they going to talk me to death.
They'd walk within six feet of me, which was the standard sorcerer dueling rule. They would pop off a quick enchantment and disperse their colored magic energy through their staff, sword, wand or whatever instrument they used to dispel their power. I'd flick my hand in a minor gesture of annoyance and the spell would fall harmlessly to the ground. More often than not, I stood there and clasped my hands together, waiting for more. That usually irritated them enough to try a harder spell. The same result occurred. Mind you, each contest was with different sorcerers, but one hundred percent of the time, the situation I outlined to you is what really transpired.
So, why am I in a heap of trouble? Word spreads, that's why.
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