Spotlight: Legacy of the Fallen by Jane Shand
/
The Fallen Mages Book 1
Genre: YA Epic Fantasy Adventure
A dangerous quest risks the return of an ancient evil.
Afshaneh spends her life looking over her shoulder, waiting for her grandparents to send someone to take them back. She might have grown up in luxury, but it was a prison. Now she and her mother live a simple life in the eastern slums of Mahariz. She hides her identity and her forbidden magic. But when she takes on a dangerous quest, will her secrets be revealed?
Her close band of friends know she can be reckless and impulsive, so they are not surprised when she agrees to reclaim a lost artefact for a stranger. She could not refuse; he offered enough money to keep her and her mother safe forever.
However, she soon learns that this artefact and the one who seeks it could be the most dangerous things in the land. Her quest will take her to the ominous ruins of a castle once occupied by evil mages: The Fallen. She will begin to understand their legacy and will be faced with a choice.
Should she destroy the artefact – become the heroine everyone believes she can be – and so attract the wrath of an evil mage, or should she claim the reward and risk the return of The Fallen?
Legacy of The Fallen is a thrilling fantasy adventure for fans of Empire of Sand, The City of Brass, and This Woven Kingdom. If you enjoy vivid worlds, complex characters, and tales of reluctant heroines/chosen ones then join Afshaneh on her quest and discover which choice she makes…
Excerpt
AFSHANEH was late. She had allowed herself to be distracted. She hurried her footsteps along the street, ignoring the exhortations from the street vendors to purchase their wares rather than those of their neighbours. She waved at Bahman, who owned the fruit shop and sometimes gave her the squishy fruits he could not easily sell, though perfectly edible. He knew Afshaneh and her mother and had a soft spot for the pair. Afshaneh was not too proud to take handouts from friends. Besides, it would only rot somewhere if she and the others he helped did not accept it. Bahman waved back from where he was re-arranging the produce at the front of his shop.
Bahman had been one of the first people to befriend Afshaneh when she and her mother arrived in the city. He had taken pity on her and offered her a job. It was only an hour a day sorting fruit and it did not pay much, but Afshaneh had been grateful. He also gave her fruit and vegetables he said were not good enough to sell. Afshaneh could see nothing wrong with them and suspected he was trying to help her and her mother.
It had not taken Afshaneh long to realise that there were children in the city who had nothing. No family, place to sleep, or coin. They risked everything to steal food to survive. Afshaneh gave most of Bahman’s handouts to these children. At least she had a roof over her head, a mother, and some money coming in. Bahman discovered what she was doing, but instead of being angry, he had set up an evening stall where he would give away the slightly battered produce that ‘was not good enough to sell’. Afshaneh helped him run it. She smiled at the memory. She had felt she might burst from pride on the evening the stall opened. Dusk was creeping over the city and ragged children with wide eyes stepped hesitantly towards them – struggling to believe that someone was giving them food. Several of those children now had permanent jobs and always had a warm greeting for Afshaneh.
The aromas of spices, meat, vegetables and honey made her stomach growl. It seemed a long time since breakfast, though it had been no more than a couple of hours. It was her own fault for eating nothing but an apple. She hoped Zerin would order her favourite cardamon and rosewater cookies with their tea. She licked her lips in anticipation. Yet if she did not hurry he might eat it all before she arrived!
Horses’ hooves clattered on the paving slabs and echoed up the street from behind Afshaneh.
“Make way! Make way!”
The sharp voice precipitated a rush of bodies to the edges of the road. Afshaneh pushed in beside a bittersweet-orange vendor. She draped her scarf over her head and then chided herself. Who would recognise her?
Six black horses pranced along the paved street, their rare coats gleaming as if they had been polished. Five of them were ridden by guards sporting their usual scarlet uniforms, their conical helms flashing in the sunlight, their base’s deep blue cloth matching the lacquered bird of prey on their metal vests. This bird was the symbol of the satrap of Mahariz and all guards displayed it, although its colour depended on the noble house they represented.
However, the man in the centre of the guards was different. His clothes were of the finest silk in three shades of blue, encrusted with silver embroidery, and he wore a cream turban with a peacock feather jauntily bobbing at the front. Blue to denote the noble House of Mirza – which was why the guards also had blue in their uniforms. The man’s face was strong but haughty and unlike the guards who sweated in the heat, the noble appeared pristine. He did not spare a glance for the stall holders, merchants, or others that his passage had forced off the road.
Afshaneh hid the curl of her lip behind her scarf. Nobles. They were all the same: corrupt, arrogant, and untrustworthy. They cared nothing for the hard-working people they inconvenienced. What did she expect, taking a detour through the Northern District just to view the Almira Gardens near the palace? She should have known better and kept to her own part of the city – the eastern sprawl.
Once the noble and his retinue had passed, all the bystanders continued their business as if he had never disturbed their day, used to such interruptions in this section of the city. Luckily, nobles rarely strayed into the narrow alleys or the bazaars of the Eastern District. Afshaneh settled the scarf round her neck and hurried away. After spending a short time with Zerin, she would need to head to work.
As she strode eastwards, the paved streets soon faded to hard packed earth. They began to narrow, and the people’s clothing became simpler, less flounces and pleats and a simple sash around the tunics. Though even here, no one skimped on colour. The tunics for men and women and the long dresses for those women who preferred them to tunics were vibrant with greens, pinks, and blues. The increase in noise level emanating from the bazaars told her for certain she was back in the Eastern District, home to the largest portion of Mahariz’s population, though packed into an area no larger than the other three districts.
Buy on Amazon Kindle | Paperback
About the Author
Jane Shand has always been an avid reader of fantasy and mystery and is an author of YA Fantasy.
She got hooked on fantasy after reading ‘Lord of the Rings’ at a young age and was determined to write books full of magic and adventure.
Her books always have magic, adventure, and some mystery. They are full of friendship and co-operation as well as danger and enemies. There will be a happy/satisfactory ending and some clean romance. Her books are all set in the same ‘world’ though on different continents and there is a thread/item that ties all the books together.
She lives in Hampshire, England with her family and two cheeky cats who would love to help her write.
