Renovia, once the strongest nation in the world, has collapsed.
Child siblings Kairo and Aterah escape by time traveling into the future and lose the Archeodon crown in the process—a magical artifact that grants its subjects the ability to heal.
They return generations later, to a people that has been oppressed into a primitive, stone age militia. Those left in Renovia await the return of the crown, and its prophesied, mythical king to restore them to their former glory.
Too young to remember where they came from, Kairo and Aterah grow up fending off the barbaric Sigu Nii—an imperialistic people with a bloodlust social hierarchy—until Aterah begins to see the future in her dreams.
When the Sigu Nii discover Aterah’s gift, they send their most magically destructive forces tearing through the Renovian’s outpost to steal her away.
Fatally injured during the raid, Kairo faces a monumental dilemma—will he abandon his post to venture into dangerous, hostile, and uncharted lands to save his sister before infection kills him, or will the Sigu Nii use her for Renovia’s final destruction?
Renovia, once the strongest nation in the world, has collapsed.
Child siblings Kairo and Aterah escape by time traveling into the future and lose the Archeodon crown in the process—a magical artifact that grants its subjects the ability to heal.
They return generations later, to a people that has been oppressed into a primitive, stone age militia. Those left in Renovia await the return of the crown, and its prophesied, mythical king to restore them to their former glory.
Too young to remember where they came from, Kairo and Aterah grow up fending off the barbaric Sigu Nii—an imperialistic people with a bloodlust social hierarchy—until Aterah begins to see the future in her dreams.
When the Sigu Nii discover Aterah’s gift, they send their most magically destructive forces tearing through the Renovian’s outpost to steal her away.
Fatally injured during the raid, Kairo faces a monumental dilemma—will he abandon his post to venture into dangerous, hostile, and uncharted lands to save his sister before infection kills him, or will the Sigu Nii use her for Renovia’s final destruction?
Prologue
The walls of the Graey Castle trembled; thin sheets of dust fell from the ceiling. King Ivan looked around in desperation. No wisdom would save him now.
“Ivan!” The yell of his name boomed with thunder, untamed by the thick stone surrounding him.
Only his strongest soldiers remained. The banister railing shook under their hands.
How has it come to this? He wished to muster up some speck of comfort for them, but the bitter truth remained. This would be the end.
“Ivan!” The monstrous voice shook him to the bone, but one thing kept the sword of Renovia fixed firmly in his hand.
It was the Age of Under. The next measurement, Kortaes, marked which of the nations was the current world-power. The most influential. Each Kortaes, during the current age, united all of Zoë under a common pillar of culture. A common language from the Illians, a world currency from the Masikonians, or a calendar from the Renovians.
The end of a Kortaes was seldom gradual, nearly always dramatic. But this time, it seemed, was bloodier than most.
“Alright,” Ivan said, his voice weary from battle. “Let them in.” In the past he would have given a speech—something to father the primitive instincts of men. But now even a hardy war-cry would be utterly inconsequential.
The Renovians released their spells that bound the thick oak courtyard doors. Enemy Sigu Nii soldiers burst through. Their boots clattered on the marble tile, and their guttural howls echoed down the castle halls. The remnants of Ivan’s army gave no wait for their king’s command. They liberated both arrows from bows and boulders from makeshift, indoor catapults.
The Sigu Nii shot shards of ice and balls of fire.
Ivan dispersed the primeval spells with the barest movement of his outstretched hand. Child’s play. The danger was the sheer mass of men clambering through the doors, as well as the unimaginable force that led them.
“Ivan!” The yell mixed with a bit of chuckle at the end.
What evil have you handed yourself over to, Ash?
The castle quivered from the footsteps of the beastly king.
Ivan's gaze shifted back to his soldiers, where remnants of fear still clung, but overtaken by the relentless surge of battle.
He thought about waiting to gather a glimpse of how true the stories were, the rumors of Ash’s monstrosity. But he knew it could be too late if he lingered. I guess it’s time then. Every part of his body yelled at him to stay and fight. Don’t leave your people! But this wasn’t a matter of talent or skill of battle. It was a matter of preventing genocide. He turned toward the hallway behind him. Shooting a final glance down the castle stairwell, terror gripped him. A monstrous, infernal orb of black and white fire crashed through the thick stone wall above the courtyard doors. The spell was larger than the entirety of Ivan’s remaining army. Shrill screams erupted from them, and they all reached outstretched extended arms—some flailing for safety, others wishing to magically dismiss their imminent destruction.
King Ivan’s hand snapped their direction as well, but the ball of fire consumed his army in an unblinking instant.
The ball of fire sank deep into the castle, scattering stone and wood debris in every direction. The roof quaked and threatened collapse, and the shaking of the Graey Castle knocked Ivan to his knees. Dust and smoke stung his eyes so that he couldn’t even see the stone wall closest to him. His eyes began to water, but not just from the polluted air. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he picked himself off the ground. A wretched wheeze insisted on clearing through his throat, but he forced it back down. If Ash so much as heard him think, he’d be there in an instant.
“Give me the crown, Ivan!”
He wanted the wooden sword of Renovia.
Ivan sprinted down the hallway. The light was dim, spears through the dust. He ran past familiar paintings and tapestries, past doors that previously housed welcomed guests and residential Aliyah. Thoughts of before the war filled Ivan’s sight: servants and nobles bustling about. Has anyone loved a king as much as they love me? Surely not!
His hands slammed against the stone wall in front of him, and he thrust himself forward as he turned the corner.
The upcoming hallway was torn apart by Ash's power, leaving a gaping hole.
There’s no time! He thrust his hand forward, drawing energy from the wooden sword. Broken stones flew up from all around to make hovering steps above the hole. Ivan sprinted across, not worrying whether they would hold his weight.
“There!” a throaty growl yelled below him.
Ivan glanced to make sure nothing was flying his way but otherwise paid the voice no attention. He arrived at his bedroom door and thrust it open. A startled scream came out, and a sword swung toward his face. Instinctively, he reached up and caught the blade with his bare hand, a slight sting pierced him due to his weariness.
“Are you trying to kill me, woman?” He forced a laugh despite the look of horror on his wife’s face. He guided the sword down with his left and closed the door with his right. His room was filled with terrified servants and children. All of them looked to him for an answer, but no solution would save them. “It’s time,” Ivan whispered. Her face fell. “This isn’t a battle to be won.”
“What will happen to us?” One of the servants spoke up, her voice cracked. She clutched a small child in her hands.
It was not a day to spread hope. “The battle is lost.”
The children began to cry. Ivan hushed them as footsteps trampled past the door.
“Is the king’s son ready for a bath, then?” came a hoarse voice from an old man in the back of the room. His speech wobbled, resembling a clear itch to speak Old Vulgarhe instead. His hair was dirty white and patchy, with a bald spot in the middle, and a long beard to match.
Ivan straightened his back, preparing himself. El Neo Nii had approached him earlier in the season, when the port city Ryala had fallen in battle, and relayed that Renovia would indeed fall to the Sigu Nii. There, they devised a plan in place of defeat. They would send the crown into the future.
Life spans will be reduced to fractions, and perceived time—moments. All of Zoë will be susceptible to illness and disease, murder and war, even apathy and remorselessness. King Ivan’s people will be barbarians amid civil courts. And though the crown of restoration would only be gone for a few short generations, as he understands them now, it will feel like dozens for his people.
“Yes,” said Ivan confidentially. The atrocities to come are temporary. King Ash possessing the crown of Renovia would destroy a part of Zoë forevermore.
A sniffle came from Queen Epheriia, a sniffle that pierced through his projected strength. Tears erupted from his eyes as he drew his wife near. “I’m sorry,” Ivan whispered.
The old man shuffled towards them, leaning on a dark bamboo walking stick while grumbling nonsense under his breath with every step.
Ivan took a small babe out of his wife's arms. Rocking her, he whispered words of love and remorse into his daughter’s ear. He handed her to the old man and bent down to make eye contact with his young son. “Kairo,” he paused. “You take care of Aterah. Your sister will need you to be strong. Can you do that for me?”
“I don’t want to leave you, Daddy!” Kairo cried.
Queen Epheriia bent down and hugged her son with desperate regret beneath her closed eyes.
During the plan's inception, El cautioned that his children held pivotal roles in the unfolding future. The warning nearly dissuaded him, but now, he gratefully acknowledged their divine exemption from the impending doom that awaited the rest of them.
“You’ll be a good king someday. Better than your father.” Ivan took the boy’s hand and led him to the old man.
“The Archeodon,” the old man held the girl in one arm and embraced the boy while stretching out the bamboo walking stick with the other. Strange carvings of bright archaic runes covered the stick.
“What is going on?” a servant asked. No one answered.
Silver lined the edges of the wooden sword, with veins running along the flat surface that twisted and curled into the Silver Tree of Renovia. As Ivan handed the sword over, it transformed into an open-faced crown with seven troughs and peaks. He placed the crown around the bamboo staff. Power drained from him. His head throbbed and light danced across his vision.
“Another time then?” The old man nodded as a farewell.
The bedroom door shook and yells commanded it to be opened from the other side.
“Unlikely,” Ivan said, turning toward the door, struggling to hold it in place with only his body. Wind swirled around the old man and the children, and with a crack of dusty black lightning, they were gone.
A kingdom is about to collapse, torn by war on all sides. Factions are coming after the crown that makes Renovia the mightiest nation of its time. But, this great nation is near its ruin. A king's only solution is to protect his children, and the future of his kingdom, by sending Kairo and Aterah into the future where they will forget all they have known.
The future is a time of war and rebellion and Aterah and Kairo are on what seems to be the losing side. There are factions and warlords surrounding them who are not only deadly, they deal in magic known as vuu. The powerful magic is used in different ways by different nations and at this moment in time, Renovia seems to have none of it. But, there are artifacts that can restore the world to what it once was. Kairo and Aterah have no indication of how important they are in events to come. And there are others who covet the power of vuu and the artifacts that can restore Renovia.
Illyadra is a high magic fantasy epic. Several people and nations will be taking actions that will sway the fate of the world entirely. Some of these people are unaware of what is to happen, while others are making strategic plans on how they can capitalize for themselves. There are battles to the death using weapons, magic, and even with only the power of words. When Aterah is taken, Kairo must take action to rescue his sister. Unfortunately for him, a major injury means he will need all the help he can get. But what form that takes will surprise everyone.
The author, Adriel Wallaker, does a fair job of handling a large cast of characters. It can be at times somewhat difficult for the reader to keep them all straight as a few of them have very similar names. But the writing is strong enough this is not too much of a concern. Wallaker also does a decent job of tying things up in the end while still leaving the reader wanting to know what will happen next in the series. There are some spots in the book where the action gets a bit tedious but for the most part it's fun.
Readers should be forewarned there is quite graphic violence in the book. It is handled well by the author but not for the squeamish at heart.
One of the more interesting aspects of the book was seeing magic used in ways not simply related to battle. Especially intriguing were the people who could wield influence over others with arguments. This is one area it would have been nice to see a little more of because those portions of the story were quite engaging. This is where a lot of the philosophy behind vuu comes in and is rather fascinating.
If you like sprawling epics where magic is everywhere and can be used in a lot of ways, Illyadra is definitely worth a read.