Epic Fantasy Feature: The Tale of Gurion Thricebound by Angela Holder


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Epic Fantasy


the tale of gurion

Print Length: 715 pages

Deore Press

A Chronicles of Tevenar Novel

Wizard. Father. Prophet. Spy. Traitor. Hero Legend.

Everything Gurion Elero has ever believed is a lie. Like all wizards, he has been granted magical powers by the Mother—powers that give his kind the right to rule over and exploit the Unchosen masses. But when the Oligarchs he serves order him to take part in the violent suppression of an Unchosen uprising, he is forced to confront the brutal truth of the wizards’ reign.

Appalled by their abuse of her gifts, the Mother withdraws her favor from the wizards, leaving them powerless—and helpless to intervene when a deadly plague spreads through Ravanet. Undeterred, Oligarch Darani tightens her vicious stranglehold. Gurion leaves behind his family and way of life to live among the Unchosen, turning spy for the very rebellion he once sought to stamp out.

Darkness is gathering, death is coming from all sides, and Darani will stop at nothing to destroy her enemies and secure her dominion over Ravanet. A reckless attempt to regain the Mother’s favor may be the only way to save wizard and Unchosen alike. As the specter of war looms, Gurion must marshal his courage, rally his people to battle, and face those who have betrayed him—and those he has betrayed.

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Excerpt:

Often when I look at the sea and think about what lies beyond it, I reach to Rainbow for comfort. She flies to my arms, and I stroke the brilliant red feathers on her head and back. She’s the third Mother-touched animal I’ve been bound to. She’s been with me far longer than either of the others. We may not share the intense closeness that characterized my relationship with Barley, and she might not hear the Mother’s voice with the clarity that Whitecap always could, but over the years she’s come to know me in a way neither of them did. Thricebound, they called me, when she and I mingled our blood and the Mother forged our bond. The name persists, though many other wizards have outlived two or three or even more familiars since.
It’s just as well, I suppose. I would prefer they call me Gurion Wizardkin Wizard, as my name should be in the new system of guildnames we’ve established. But as long as they no longer call me Elero, I’m content. Let that name vanish into history with the corruption of the system it symbolizes. It means nothing anymore, thank the Mother, that I’m descended from one of the original thousand wizards, even though that fact shaped the first forty-eight years of my life more than any other.
I remember the last day I was truly Gurion Elero, exalted Chosen of the Thousand Families, member of the Council of Wizards, one of the wealthy and powerful in Miarban, on the banks of the Irkolis. I can picture our villa, as clear and sharp as if I left it only yesterday. The white marble of the walls, bright in the brilliant desert sun, the cool green shade of the palms and laurels in the atrium, the vivid magenta of the bougainvillea twining over the walls. Fia loved those flowers. She was painting them that day, standing at her easel, dipping the hair-fine tip of her brush into the pots of paint, tracing exquisitely graceful lines on the stretched canvas.
Ah, Fia. If I’d known that day what awaited us, all the grief and pain and regrets that would be ours in the days to come, would I have chosen differently? Would I have refused to walk the path the Mother laid before me, even though I firmly believe, must believe, it was the only one that could lead to this place, where the Mother’s power at last serves her children in the way she intended from the beginning?
There are many of my actions I would change. Many things I’m ashamed to remember. But there were times I chose rightly, too. Those choices would have been much harder, or even impossible, if I’d known what they would cost. How would my life have been different, how would the world be different, if I could have seen into the future that day our youngest son, Jashon, came of age…


About the Author:

angela holder

I live in Houston, Texas, with my husband of twenty-four years. I have three children: one starting high school, one starting college, and one grown, married, and out on her own. I spend a lot of time in Starbucks, drinking vanilla lattes and flat whites and telling stories about my imaginary friends. I enjoy dabbling in many hobbies, including spinning, knitting, weaving, costuming, hot air ballooning, singing in my church choir, and performing in amateur musicals.

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