Prophecy: Action Adventure Fantasy (Tuatha Legends Series Book 1): Tuatha Legends Series, #1
By P.M. Gilbert
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About this ebook
Destiny is one thing. Survival in the face of evil is a different matter.
What started as normal days for Finn, Cerys, George and Arlene didn't end that way. Their world got turned upside down.
Ancient history and birth destiny have cast them into a centuries long battle in a parallel existence between two ancient clans, the Tuatha and the Fomorie across Ireland, England, Scotland and Wales.
Can immortal mythological guardians sent by the Tuatha intervene in time and save Finn, Cerys, George and Arlene from the Fomorie? Are they really the four young warriors as foretold in an ancient Prophecy? Will they be able to use the hidden gifts they supposedly possess to defend themselves against the Fomorians?
"Prophecy" is the first book in the Tuatha Legends Series. This Fantasy Series will take you on an adventure through time and history. It features wonderful characters with landmark locations, mingling mythology with swords and sorcery and the odd dragon in a classic battle of good versus evil.
Related to Prophecy
Titles in the series (5)
Prophecy: Action Adventure Fantasy (Tuatha Legends Series Book 1): Tuatha Legends Series, #1 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsGathering: Action Adventure Fantasy (Tuatha Legends Series Book 2): Tuatha Legends Series, #2 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Lair: Action Adventure Fantasy (Tuatha Legends Series Book 3): Tuatha Legends Series, #3 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsWisdom: Action Adventure Fantasy (Tuatha Legends Series Book 5): Tuatha Legends Series, #5 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Henge: Action & Adventure Fantasy (Tuatha Legends Series Book 4): Tuatha Legends Series, #4 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratings
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Prophecy - P.M. Gilbert
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1
Evil
Atall, brutish man with heavy brows, rugged features and thick, flowing, black hair and a full beard stood atop a high cliff in the middle of a storm in the north of Scotland. The shrieking wind pressed his clothing against his body as his hair streaked out behind him in the wind. Despite his bulk and height, he struggled to maintain his balance against the howling gale.
His green eyes gazed out over the North Sea. He peered through the lashing rain as it soaked him, his eyes locked on a point in the distance. Despite the storm, the twilight had a bright glow to it, that of a golden summer's evening.
He raised his arms, opened them wide, and leaned his head back seconds before an intense green lightning bolt hit him squarely in the face.
He roared as the lightning fizzled and crackled with angry intensity. It lifted him off the ground and kept him suspended. Trapped in the snapping column of energy, he hovered a foot above the ground.
Turf smouldered and charred before bursting into green flames that flickered lazily beneath his feet.
He bellowed in pain as his mind raced, his sight clouded with visions tumbling past him at dizzying speed. Four youthful faces appeared crystal clear in a haze of other details he couldn't make out. They shone in his mind's eye and gave him a latent sense of fear. The images were clearer than they had ever been previously.
As suddenly as it had appeared, the lightning ceased. He fell to the ground, slumping forward onto his knees. The rain scourged him, and the wind continued to shriek like a banshee around him.
A cloaked figure stepped forward from the small congregation that stood down the slope twenty feet behind him.
The figure came forwards, holding a gnarled staff topped with a small white skull. The figure extended a bony hand to the fallen man, who took it and slowly got to his feet, looking up at the face hidden beneath the deep hood of the black cloak. Intense green eyes sunk in a cratered, aged, gaunt face fixed on him from the depths of the hood, and the figure said, The vision is much stronger, isn't it?
The gigantic man, still catching his breath as he recovered from his agony, gasped. Yes, Grandfather, it grows stronger and more painful. Their time is near.
The hooded figure nodded. Your destiny is approaching, Balor, and you will fulfil the role you were born for. This is why you are named for your ancient ancestor who famously vanquished the Tuatha at Tara.
They turned and headed back down the slope towards the castle, the sky broiling with black clouds above them, which hurled icy rain as far as the eye could see, banishing the bright twilight.
The huge warrior-like figure walked beside his grandfather, his mind firmly fixed on a vision of the faces of four young people. His resolve to destroy them was stronger than ever. The threat they posed could prevent the Fomorie from flourishing, overpowering the land, and ruling it.
Finn
Finn
2
Celt
Finn felt an uncomfortable, weird prickling sensation on the back of his neck accompanied by a feeling he was being watched. He shrugged off the irrational feeling.
Yet again, he was squeezed into the back of his dad's car along with his twin sister Aoife. The two 12-year-olds sat atop a neat pile of sleeping bags and blankets bolstered by the family's pillows.
Irritated, he shifted position slightly and wearily moved his dad's toilet bag. Each jolt of the car had been causing it to rub against his left elbow.
Finn's parents crammed the car with camping equipment which didn't leave a lot of room for Finn and his sister Aoife. The old Ford Mondeo slouched lower on its suspension with the weight of the family and the full load of equipment. Finn and Aoife's mother liked their tent to be fully equipped with home essentials.
Aoife gave him a dig in his ribs. Oi, stay over on your own side.
Sorry, stuff keeps getting dislodged over here. Anyway, you've got more room than me.
Finn's impatiently replaced a large tin of peeled tomatoes that kept rolling off the parcel shelf to dig into his side.
I have not,
retorted Aoife somewhat grumpily as she pummelled and repositioned a pillow to demarcate her territory.
The Ryan family was on their annual summer holiday, camping for two weeks. Each year, Mrs. Ryan decreed that they travel to an unfamiliar country for two weeks to absorb culture and educate ourselves.
The trip was cheaper and more fun than a package holiday, according to Mr. Ryan.
For the last six years, they'd been camping in Europe and had visited France, Belgium, Germany, Italy, and Spain twice. This year, Mrs. Ryan had decided they'd go camping in Cornwall, England over the Easter break. This decision was met with protests by Finn and Aoife who'd complained the UK weather wouldn't be hot enough for camping at this time of year.
So, as with the previous six summers, they loaded up their family car with a tent, camping equipment, table and chairs, stove, sleeping bags, air mattresses, pillows, and enough tinned food to survive a small siege.
Mrs. Ryan turned round with a smile and gently chided her children. Don't squabble, you two. I know it's been a lengthy trip today, but we'll be at the hotel soon.
Mr. Ryan nodded and said via the rear-view mirror in a cheery voice, Only another twenty-five miles, kids.
Mrs. Ryan turned around to consult her itinerary. She read through the documentation for the hotel, double checking their reservations. They'd taken the ferry from Dublin to Holyhead and were making their way down to Cornwall via the M5.
Peggy Ryan wasn't a fan of motorways, deeming them to have dumbed down travel and made it less interesting. She always insisted on splitting the trip in two. This way, they could abandon the monotony of the motorways for part of their journey and see the countryside. She'd decided they'd take a brief detour via the Cotswolds on their way south.
She'd booked them into a cosy looking family-owned hotel set in the hills. Its brochure boasted comfortable rooms, a beautiful wood-panelled bar with original oak beams and an award-winning restaurant serving top-quality travellers’ fare. The pièce de résistance in Mrs. Ryan's opinion was the wonderful panoramic view of the valley below the hotel.
When she'd originally told them about the holiday, Finn and Aoife had shared a look of resignation as their mother described the hotel and the view.
Has it got a pool table?
Finn had asked with faint hope.
Aoife had chimed in optimistically, Or a swimming pool?
Mrs. Ryan had clucked in exasperation. You two need to learn to enjoy your wider surroundings and appreciate them.
Mr. Ryan piloted the car carefully round the bends and twists of the narrow Cotswold roads as they threaded their way through small, picturesque stone villages anchored in the hills. He took his time on the unfamiliar roads.
In contrast to his children, he was enjoying the leisurely pace and the scenic views, so much so it wasn't long before he started singing along to an Oasis song on the radio.
Oh god, Dad! Do you have to sing?
asked Aoife.
In good spirits, Mr. Ryan said, Ahh, sure, I'm an excellent singer,
earning him a wry snort from Mrs. Ryan.
Aoife glanced in disbelief at Finn and then popped in her earphones to drown out her father.
Finn resumed staring out the window, idly watching the rolling hills as they wound their way through them. He daydreamed about being on the pitch at the Emirates Stadium, running the game from mid-field like his idol Cesc Fabregas.
Ryan receives the ball short off the halfway line and, with a mazy run, beats four Manchester United players and releases a killer pass to Robin van Persie who scores a wonder goal with a blistering shot.
He glimpsed something in the valley about one hundred yards below that interrupted his daydream of celebrating the goal.
He saw it for a fleeting moment before it disappeared. He could have sworn it had been a man wielding a sword on an absolutely enormous horse.
Finn glanced at Aoife, wondering if she'd seen anything. She was staring out the other window, her head bobbing in time to the music she was listening to.
He was pondering what he thought he'd seen when his mother interrupted his thoughts to offer further tour guide updates from the research she'd done prior to them leaving home. Finn sighed and let his gaze wander back to the woods below again, trying to block out his mother's voice.
The Cotswolds covers a vast area. Almost 800 square miles, it runs through five counties: Gloucestershire, Oxfordshire, Warwickshire, Wiltshire, and Worcestershire. A notable feature of the Cotswolds is its honey-stoned or golden-stoned buildings. The rolling hills of the area give the 'wolds' part of the area's name.
Finn and Aoife groaned.
Mum, no more please, we're tired and hungry,
said Aoife.
Aren't we nearly there yet?
asked Finn.
They had listened to their mother's educational updates as they journeyed from Holyhead. It had been a long day. They'd had their fill of history and scenery. The spring evening was fading into darkness as it edged towards 8:00 p.m. They'd only stopped briefly for a sandwich at a somewhat dreary and sprawling motorway service area a few hours previously.
They rounded a sharp bend, and their little Easter holiday break suddenly became less ordinary, changing Finn and Aoife's lives irrevocably.
3
Death
Standing in the middle of the road was the most immense black horse they'd ever seen, far bigger than a normal horse.
Astride it was a huge man with disheveled long black hair. Finn could just make out the monumental figure silhouetted against the sky in the twilight. The colossal horse reared, and the man held a huge sword pointed at the sky.
The figure lowered the sword, pointing it at their car. Finn just had time to think I wasn't dreaming as Mr. Ryan slammed on the brakes, causing their car to slew left.
A bolt of jagged green light arched from the tip of the man's sword. There was a blinding flash, followed by an explosion as the bolt of light hit the front of the car, stopping it dead.
Aoife screamed. Finn was too shocked to scream. His hands tightly gripped the duvet he sat