Jerry Owens, Author
Book Blurb
An action-packed historical fiction fantasy that will satisfy your adventurous side and your imagination, tug at your heart, and make you cheer.
Follow the epic adventures of five generations of ancient warriors in this thrilling story based on ancient history. Our heroes and heroines are august warriors, builders of cities, and founders of kingdoms and countries. Their story takes place a millennium before the rise of the Roman Empire when dragons are being born and giants still walk the earth.
The story begins as Brutus (BROO-tuhs) reminisces about the generations of heroes who came before him. These ancestors led him through the ages to his moment in time at the birth of a new civilization and a new country. Each generation of heroes face the challenges and obstacles put in their path, be it hostile armies, mystical creatures, love gone wrong or right, and natural or unnatural disasters.
Anchises (an-KY-seez), once a hero of Troy and great warrior, is now aged and weak from the many battles fought and won. His roll now, an elder and counsel to the royal family of Troy and counsel to his own family.
Aeneas (uh-NEE-us) rescues a thousand women and children from certain death at the fall of Troy. Their miraculous escape and adventures take them from Troy to Thrace to Carthage, and many places in between.
Ascanius (as-KAY-nee-us) battles with enemies and dark forces to found a new city, which history tells was the foundation and mother city of Rome.
Silvius (SIL-vee-us) inherits a kingdom from his father, and weds a divine entity who has taken human form. Tragically, Silvius is killed by his own son. His son cannot be executed because he is royalty, and so is forever exiled from the land he loves, which starts the whole chain of events and adventures which led to the making of... Memories of The First King.
~ Teasers ~
“As I lie here waiting to die, I reflect on my life. It has been a good life, one of purpose and challenge, yet I am still angry that it is coming to an end. It is the thrill and habit of living I will miss. I have had love and experienced hatred, and survived from the strength of love, yet have equally survived from the power of hate during the many battles fought and wars endured. I have called my scribe to record my ramblings and recollections, both proud and sad. As he sits beside me now, I ask my scribe to capture my words as I speak them. It is the duty of my scribe to put my words into some semblance of order to make sense of them for my family and those who come after me. We are all born with the privilege to believe or the choice not to believe. I choose to believe and accept as true an afterlife for I have spoken many times to my dead mother and others of the dead, in this rousing life and in my dreams. I have witnessed strange creatures and beings, as well as miracles and magic to save those who were innocent and deserving. In this moment of remembering it offers little comfort for I will desperately miss the touch of my wife and the laughter of my sons. I believe, as I was told by the divine, it was my destiny to save my people, build a great city, and become a king. Many have benefited from my calling, for each child born, and each life lived in freedom is witness to my destiny. These are my memories in no particular order. It is my hope that my sons and my people will learn from this history so they do not repeat the blunders I have made. I love my sons with all my heart, and leave them equal parts of my kingdom. I, too, love their mother more than my own life, and love her more than I thought possible for giving my sons to me. It is my hope that all who hear my story learn from it and become better,” spoke the king, between shallow and labored breaths.
The scribe sat on a small three-legged wooden stool close to the king while the king laid in his bed. The scribe furiously scratched the king’s words onto the parchment as he continued to speak. The king’s raspy and breathless voice made it difficult, but the scribe was determined to capture every word. It was his sacred duty to perform this task for his king and for their people.
The King paused and raised a finger, pointing at the window. A small bird had landed on the sill. It hopped around so gracefully, whistling and chirping. The scribe did not look up and kept scrawling the king’s words.
The bird was pure white and reminded the king of something, yet all he said was, “The island.”
After a few moments the bird flew away. A light breeze blew in through the window and carried on that breeze he heard the words, “It is nearly time.”
The king then continued to speak and tell of his memories, and the tale of his life and of those in his blood who came before him.
~ TROPES ~
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High Action
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War
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Historical Fiction
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Set in Prehistory World (1200 BCE)
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Fantasy
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Divine Beings
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Mystical/Mythical Creatures
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Magic
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Ancient Locations
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Exotic Locations
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Found Family
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Enemies to Lovers
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Love at first sight
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Spicy bits
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Memories of The First King
MOTFK Map
~ Teasers ~
Cheers rose like a clap of rolling thunder, spreading from ship to ship. Land had been sighted. On the horizon lay the unmistakable blue-green hue of a coastline. Many weeks had passed since they rounded the coast at the Pillars of Hercules escaping the Sirens and other monsters of the sea. Before them was the white island in the western sea.
***
They could hear the thunder of battle behind them as they ran for their very lives. Aeneas carried his ancient father on his shoulder and led his young son, Ascanius, by the hand. All of Troy was ablaze and falling to the Greeks. There was no hope, no turning back. They had to flee to survive. A thousand Trojans, mostly women and children, followed him hoping to escape the slaughter.
***
Their anchorage in Delos was quick and uneventful, but Aeneas and Anchises did have time to consult with a well-known oracle, and she told them to go to the original home of the Trojan people. Anchises thought this was Crete, which reinforced his earlier claim that they should go there to build a new city.
***
The screams were ear-piercing and unrelenting. Silvius paced the corridor wondering how those sounds could come from his wife, or any person for that matter. He had been in many battles and even men being slaughtered could not compete with the cries he heard coming from his queen. Artemis was giving birth to his son.
The mortally wounded giant stopped groaning, looked up at Brutus and said in a deep vibrating voice, “We will kill you all, one by one, and feast on your flesh and make soup from your bones.”
***
Before he could answer, a wild boar with tusks as long as a man’s hand came charging at them through the brush. Aeneas dropped his bow and drew his sword to protect his son, but Ascanius had already drawn his bow and loosed an arrow at the beast, dropping him less than ten paces from where they stood. Aeneas was awestruck and proud at the same time.
***
Ascanius looked down upon his army from a small rise above them. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up and gave him a shiver.
A breeze blew in his face and he heard his father’s voice, “Take my sword, take the Sword of Kings.”
Ascanius turned, expecting to see his father riding up behind him, but there was no one there.
He heard the words again, “Take the Sword of Kings.”
Ascanius knew it was his father’s voice and did as he was told, retrieving his father’s sword. that was gifted him by his mother, Ascanius’ grandmother. When he picked up the sword it felt warm in his hands, he felt stronger, and somehow, he knew this day would be a victory for him and his people. The sadness left him and his mind cleared.
Content Warning
Memories of The First King is set in a prehistory period, about 1200 BCE, and contains the following content that may not be suitable for sensitive readers:
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War.
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Graphic violence.
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Death.
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Torture.
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Blood.
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Gore.
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Grief.
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Suicide, not explicit.
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Sexual activity.
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Animal harm through hunting and war...not graphic.
Please provide feedback if a sensitive topic was not noted above. Thank you.