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Imago, Book II, Tales from the East by L.T. Suzuki 376 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #02-1335; ISBN 1-55395-619-2; US$29.50, C$33.50, EUR24.00, £17.00 Imago, Book Two, Tales from the East
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About the Book
"A crimson dawn is about to bathe this land in blood, indeed we stand poised on the eve of destruction..."
With the defeat of the Dark Lord, an uneasy peace settles over Imago as unseen forces work to destroy the surviving members of the Order. In pursuit of a rogue Wizard, they embark on a perilous journey into eastern Imago where they are confronted by a land and its people trapped in religious and political upheaval - and an alliance that will ultimately lead to the genocide of the Elven race.
Caught in a rising tide of evil, Prince Markus is forced to confront a ghost from his past while the Wizard of the West must somehow find a way to face his most powerful nemesis. And under the ever-threatening shadow of war, in the midst of betrayal and salvation, treachery and triumph, Arerys and Nayla share a kindred spirit. Their love will either serve to unite their people... or bring further dissension to a race already divided.
As the rightful heir to the throne of Orien sows the seeds of rebellion in a desperate bid to restore peace to his lands, his actions only serve to fan the winds of war. Now, trapped within the fortress city with a dwindling force of warriors, the Order must face a massive army. If they fail to defeat the minions of evil, the race of Elves will be doomed; and mankind shall fall in their shadow.
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About the Author
A fan of swashbuckling adventure novels by Alexandre Dumas of Three Musketeers and the Count of Monte Cristo fame, Lorna Suzuki had noticed that it was always the men going off on great adventures and enjoying the camaraderie of a brotherhood. Most often, the women were portrayed as the damsels-in-distress.
In writing the Imago fantasy series, by adding a female protagonist, one that is reluctantly accepted into this brotherhood, the author drew on some of her own experiences as a woman in a once male-dominated field of law enforcement and martial arts to bring Nayla the female warrior to life.
With over twenty-four years experience in various forms of martial arts, Suzuki is a practitioner and instructor of Bujinkan Budo Taijutsu, a martial arts system incorporating six traditional samurai schools and three schools of ninjutsu under Japanese Soke, Dr. Masaaki Hatsumi. Although Budo Taijutsu has a very long and rich history in Japan and is steeped in tradition, it is only now growing in popularity. Practitioners of Bujinkan Budo Taijutsu do not compete in the sports arena as the techniques incorporated into this system are used strictly for self-defense, never as a sport. To learn more about Bujinkan Budo Taijutsu, please visit Shihan Phillip Legare's website @ www.shinkentaijutsu.com
As the newly elected president of the White Rock/Surrey Writers Group, Suzuki is working to raise the profile of one of BC's longest established writing societies. This not-for-profit organization strives to inspire budding writers and published authors of all genres, to improve writing skills and direct writers to publishers seeking submissions. Members meet from 7:00 to 9:00 pm on the third Wednesday of each month at the White Rock Library.
When Suzuki is not writing the next installment of the Imago series, she is a scriptwriter for Life & Times Productions founded and managed by award-winning producer, Alice Mathieson.
This company specializes in creating audio/video life-stories customized for clients as well as biographic documentaries for TV. She resides in the suburbs outside of Vancouver, BC with her husband Scott White, a talented videographer and Bujinkan Shidoshi, and her charming, young daughter Nia.
L.T. Suzuki can be contacted at:
ltsuzuki@imagobooks.ca
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Sample Excerpts
Excerpts from Chapter Three
As the men journeyed through the pass, a great show of light and the resonating echo of distant thunder from the dark clouds looming ever closer announced a change in the weather. The humidity increased with the rising temperature causing the air to become sticky and hot. As the day wore on, the bleak heavens finally opened up. The heavy clouds that brewed all day unleashed their rains, falling with a vengeance. The pounding raindrops splashed back up as it pummeled the ground. For the men of the Order, their only consolation was that the forest of Wyndwood was now less than half a league away.
With the coming of the storm, the skies grew unnaturally dark, as though the night was attempting to steal away with the light of day. The rains were unforgiving as they fell in a torrent, drenching all and chilling them to their bones. Arerys gazed up as a flash of lightening illuminated the steel gray clouds against a blackening sky. His eyes struggled to adapt to the sudden bright, flash of light, followed by immediate darkness. Something on the hillside before them caught his attention. Again, lightening danced across the heavens. Arerys, his fearful eyes already fixed on the hillside, immediately caught sight of a large, sinister shadow. It was the Dark Lord's emissary on his great black steed!
As Arerys drew his bow, Valtar too saw the awaiting evil. He immediately armed his bow and both Elves began launching arrows at the soldiers in the company of the dark horseman.
"Lindras! Go! Flee to Wyndwood!" ordered Markus, drawing his sword.
A small battalion of perhaps thirty soldiers armed with swords and halberds poured down from the surrounding hills onto the pass. Arerys' bid to take down the dark emissary was thwarted by the soldiers as they obscured his line of fire. He and Valtar quickly dispatched the insurgence, their arrows striking the soldiers down with deadly accuracy. As the remaining soldiers that successfully eluded the Elves' deadly projectiles closed in on Markus, both Arerys and Valtar charged to his side. Placing the prince in between them, they continued to release a torrent of arrows.
Arerys reached into his quiver, There was only one arrow left: one last chance to down the dark horseman. As seven of the remaining soldiers encircled the Order, Arerys looked up to the hillside to take aim at his evil adversary.
He was gone!
The Elf scanned the dark, sloping terrain, staring through the heavy curtain of rain, searching for his intended victim. The dark horseman was no longer there.
The sound of steel slamming against steel as Markus' sword deflected the blows of an enemy sword broke Arerys' concentration. He looked down in time to see a soldier sneaking up behind the prince, preparing to ram his blade through Markus' back. The Elf instinctively drew his bow, letting his last arrow fly. The soldier reeled from the impact, and with a final spin, collapsed behind Markus.
Arerys leapt down from his panicking steed, drawing his sword as he landed. He quickly turned his attention to Valtar; he could see the dark Elf was tiring as he fought off the soldiers that surrounded him from all sides. Arerys' blade quickly did away with two soldiers as they pressed in on Valtar. They did not even hear the fair Elf's silent approach until his deadly blade was upon them.
The dark Elf immediately turned his attention to one soldier while Arerys engaged in battle with the other. He confidently angled and pivoted away as he parried the soldier's wild slashes, and then in a flash turned on the man, countering with a vicious assault. As the soldier fell lifelessly to the earth, Arerys leapt over his body to aid Markus. Two soldiers were attempting to take the prince from opposite sides. Markus stepped backwards in a bid to keep both soldiers in his field of vision. As he did so, in the growing darkness he stumbled over a dead soldier that had fallen to Arerys' deadly aim.
"On your feet, Markus!" shouted Arerys, leaping over his fallen comrade to intercept the advancing soldiers. The Elf's blade came alive in the darkness as lightening flashed across the stormy sky. He veered towards the two soldiers, the tip of his sword pointed between them. In a blink of an eye, both soldiers lunged at Arerys. Instead of retreating, the Elf used a tactic he learned from Nayla. He quickly dropped to the ground, rolling between the two soldiers. He swiftly rose up to his feet behind them. Stunned by his sudden disappearance, they did not even see the Elf coming up from behind. As he pivoted around, his sword swept across in one broad stroke from right to left, slicing through the fabric, flesh and backbone of both hapless men. The soldiers, screaming in agony, fell onto their knees before collapsing forward into a large, murky puddle.
Leaping over the dead; Arerys pulled Markus up onto his feet. He flicked the blood off his sword before turning to help Valtar with the last soldier. From the corner of his eyes he could make out a shadowy figure charging towards them from out of the darkness. The last of Beyilzon's agents swooped down upon them as though carried on the wind; Arerys sheathed his sword as he pushed Markus from his path. The dark emissary careened around the fallen soldiers as his steed raced towards Arerys. The dark horseman had set his sights on the fair Elf, singling him out from the others.
Arerys' hand reached behind him for an arrow; his quiver was still empty. Without a moment to lose, he dove towards a fallen soldier, lunging for the arrow protruding from the dead man's back as he went down. Slipping on the saturated battle ground, Arerys snapped the arrow as he broke his fall. Scrambling to his feet, he raced towards another arrow jutting out from a dead soldier's chest. His ears rang with the thundering hoof beats of the fast approaching steed. The dark emissary was descending upon him with great swiftness. Arerys yanked on the arrow with all his might. Stringing the nock of the arrow onto his bow as he rolled, he turned to face the darkness.
Before the Elf could draw his arrow, his bow was sent flying out of his hands. A searing pain sliced through his side causing him to crumple to his knees. In desperation, Arerys reached over with his right hand to draw his sword. He gasped - stunned to feel the heat of his own blood, to see it steaming in the cool night air, as it washed down his body. As the rain pounded down upon him, he could hear Markus cry out his name. His eyes gazed up to take in the sinister, black form looming above him. The deadly blade of an imposing sword glistened as lightening cracked, shattering an angry sky. Arerys screamed in pain as inch-by-inch, he struggled to draw his sword as his evil nemesis slowly raised his blade on high. The Elf's vision blurred as he stared upwards. He was going into shock. His eyes squinted, barely able to comprehend the intensity of the foe towering before him.
The dark horseman laughed in triumph; his sword now poised to decapitate Arerys. The Elf closed his eyes. Too weak to change his fate, he prepared for imminent death. Suddenly, he heard a familiar whine and felt the swift movement of air skim through his hair. It was immediately followed by a horrific scream that tore at his senses. Valtar's arrow flew straight and true, piercing the dark horseman through his black heart.
The last of Beyilzon's four agents was reduced to a mound of black ashes that was soon washed away by the rivulets of rainwater rolling down the pass. The Elf's sword slipped from his weakening grip. He clutched his side; feeling the gaping wound delivered by the dark horseman's sword. How can this be? Arerys wondered as he removed his hand. He gazed down at his wound, his chain mail cleanly sliced open. He cursed under his breath for now he realized that he was not downed by a mortal blade - only a weapon forged and blessed by the Dark Lord could have penetrated Elven mail in this manner.
For a brief moment, he stared at his stained, trembling hands. The rush of blood carried by the driving rain, spread in an ever-growing pool, rising like a crimson tide around him. His heart beat so wildly; it was pounding painfully in his head as his blood coursed out of his body. It was so unrelenting; it was all he could hear in his ears, distorting Markus' frantic voice as he called out his name. As he slowly tilted his head up, Arerys' eyes began to glaze over as they struggled to make out the blurred images of the prince and Valtar moving before him in slow motion.
Arerys fought to stave off the suffocating blackness he could feel was waiting to consume him. He struggled in vain to remain conscious, making a futile bid to stand on his own two feet, but everything around him began to swim, swirling into a deep, black abyss. His eyes rolled back as he finally collapsed into Markus' arms.
Copyright 2003 L.T. Suzuki. All rights reserved.
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