Roc Isle: Tempest is a heroic fantasy novel based on an epic sword-and-sorcery battle of good versus evil.
The End of Roc Isle was a false prophecy. Or was it?
Lord Azure commands the Northern Army in a war against the Trade Lords, who are a class of conspirators. He fights to defeat evil. However, his leadership is failing because of his son’s insolence and personal ambition. He relies on Ankah, a battle strategist and master swordsman, to prevail. But will Ankah be enough when they encounter the monolithic horned beasts known as Dregs? A Tempest of battle is about to sweep across the land, and even the strong won’t survive!
About Alex James
Alex James is a science-fiction and fantasy author who grew up in Leeds, the United Kingdom, and whose stories are inspired by Asperger Syndrome, a form of autism. He believes Asperger Syndrome is a difference, not a disorder; and hopes his writing can lead to understanding about the condition.
The science-fiction and fantasy he writes is strongly influenced by the themes of alienation and empowerment, which give unique qualities to many of his characters. These qualities have been the author’s experience of Asperger Syndrome.
Roc Isle: Tempest Extract
Exhausted, but still fuelled with a fury Lord Ream could not have conceived, his followers continued in his wake, brandishing the rusty weapons or short-swords of their enemies; and the old spears.
They passed the end of the large street and found themselves in a huge plaza past the fortified towers, where over a thousand infantrymen stood in a circle, dumbstruck at the large company of Red-Capes before them. Lord Ream ran, courage coursing through his veins. And they followed, to likely death. The black-armoured infantrymen stood with helmets on and were brandishing very long spears, wearing navy blue capes of their own, as well as shoulder plates and melted black-stone cuirasses.
In the shadowy night Lord Ream screamed war cries and hacked down the first of the infantrymen guarding the circumference of the Amphitheatre. His company followed suit. The infantrymen were too stunned to move much and fought back futilely. Lord Ream entered the narrow vaulted Amphitheatre entrance with hundreds of men and women behind him, and came out of it into an abandoned arena. He raced up the flights of steps and saw officials handling papers and running amok. He hacked at the first of them, blood spilling everywhere on the marble floor. He continued to slice and slay organs out of bodies as he made his way forward down the beige stone limits of the arena. He passed small alcoves and offices, stabbing as he went. Screams and frantic escapes confused things. The only way to keep things simple was to kill, and remember that these bastards killed his grandparents twenty-seven years ago.
Blood covered every stone and marble surface; even tables did not escape the slaughter. Bloodied corpses littered the upper reaches of the arena’s side hall everywhere, where the top officials resided. Outside there was tumult, but it was far away, where the fires were.
They had done a lot of running today. Lord Ream thought he saw the figure of a man walk past the lighted curtained opening in the stone-fortified tower he had passed on his way. He rallied a few of the nearby Red-Capes and left the dead arena to find new prey.
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