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Highlord of Darkness [Highlord of Darkness Series Book 1]
by Christine W. Murphy
Category: Science Fiction/Fantasy EPIC eBook Award Finalist
Description: Narragan is supposed to be bad. It's expected. On Orgon, it's the religion. But he doesn't feel like the latest incarnation of evil. He's just an average guy who doesn't get along with his father, has thirty sisters to protect, and writes really bad poetry. If he doesn't learn how to be bad soon, if he doesn't figure out how to become the Evil One, then everything and everyone he loves is doomed. If Narragan doesn't want to be responsible for the end of civilization on Orgon, he has to become the Highlord of Darkness.
eBook Publisher: Hard Shell Word Factory, 2001 Hard Shell Word Factory
eBookwise Release Date: March 2002
 
48 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [855 KB]
Words: 180000
Reading time: 514-720 min.
"The characters were lively, and the story flowed smoothly ... The plot had many twists and turns in it, with new surprises along the way. Each chapter ending made you want to read more. It was a good read."--Simply eBooks
"Highlord of Darkness consists of many intriguing subplots, all leading back to the hero and his fight to maintain his right to rule. The action and intrigue never let up throughout this constantly moving story. Some secondary characters play roles almost as important as the main characters. Tension is constantly building, leaving you to wonder what side certain characters are really on. The depth of this tightly woven novel will keep you reading to the end. This is a story you'll want to read again, to get the most out of it." ~ Brenda Gayle for The Write Lifestyle
Chapter 1 NARRAGAN SCRAMBLED backward like a crab to avoid the falling bodies and the tip of the spear. Then he lay on his back between the two boys who had attacked him. When the guard began to work her spear free from the one who had held the knife, Narragan diverted his eyes. His hands curled into useless fists. A cry of protest threatened to escape his tightly clamped jaw. Even if he could have saved his attackers, what would he have saved them for? A few more days of suffering? Gray-robed postulants always died before the next shipment arrived. The Gathian tutors promoted only one kind of postulant to the relative safety of pupil -- those wearing red. These boys wore tattered gray rags. "Did the bad boys frighten you?" The guard used her boot to steady the body that seemed reluctant to release her weapon. Familiar heat spread up Narragan's face -- shame at being too weak to protect himself, shame at feeling grateful to his jailers for having saved his life again. "Letting them wander far from home these days," Narragan snapped, slowly standing. He instantly regretted his careless remark. Her partner would be along any minute. Then, he'd have two angry guards on his hands. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the cold air blowing through barred windows. "Lady, I have a pass," he said, the proper tone of pleading in his voice. He went down on all fours to gather his things. "It is here. Please, grant me a moment to find it." Careful to avoid the pooling blood, he frantically sifted through his papers. All thought of the two boys fled. He searched for the fragile safety of a pass. The guard stood over him and ruffled his hair. "Sure, I've got plenty of time." Narragan's face grew hot when her hand trailed down his back, but he continued to crawl after his safe-conduct paper. He didn't look up when she used her spear to end the moaning that came from the boy he had kicked. "I have found my pass, Lady." He waved the paper, but she had already turned to greet her partner, who noisily made her way up the stairs. Narragan took advantage of the arrival and hurried down the corridor. A short distance and several turns later, he collapsed on a bench and pressed his books against his body. An invisible band tightened around his chest. His tears darkened the bindings of his books as he tried to clear the sight of the dead boys from his mind. He wouldn't die on Agathocles, he couldn't. Too many people were counting on him to come out of this alive. Copyright © 2000 by Christine W. Murphy
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