First I must appologise to you all for my absense, but I have been rather busy lately. However I am back now and ready to keep you updated.
Many people have asked me how the Silent Blade Chronicles came about. Well, the answer is fairly simple. Long ago I had a strange dream. It was one of those dreams that was so vivid that even to this day I can recall every little detail of it. The dream haunted me for a long time, till one day i decided to sit down and write about it. Strangely this turned into the one and only piece of poetry I have ever written… yet it was to become the core element of the Silent Blade Chronicles!
So here, for you all, is that poem, which features at the begining of Book 1
And the land lies dormant, no sound, nor smell, nor light. Yet neither is there spirit.
Tortured by an unending sense of longing, a desire to live.
Waiting, hoping, the land enduring an endless measure of uncountable time.
And yet, soon, the mist comes, extending, covering the land with a probing acumen.
Dark is the mist, darker than a hidden shadow, colder than the deepest crypt.
Over Land and Sea, the dark haze stirs, seeking, always seeking.
And soon it comes to rest from an epoch of travel, causing the very air to fall back in fear.
Yet from the darkened void comes the wish to be.
It lies in primal vigilance, yet passive… attentive, yet unborn to the land.
And from within, the desire for existence surveys the land, and finds it to be good.
Then first appears an eye, a window to the soul of creation.
Yet another, an eye, deeply red, glowing with the fires of life.
And from the mist grows shape and form, firstly cautious, but soon with burgeoning surety.
A head, imposing in its glory, horned, with awesome splendour.
Wings, body, tail, deeply black, a shadow within a shadow.
And the Dragon Lord rises to fill the land, disturbingly flawless in his glorious form.
Nightwing, consummate… power beyond power, unbending force of potency.
Nightwing, Divine Lord, provider of life.
And from clawed fist soars dagger of steel, shining with eternal lustre.
Immortal be the Blade of Transcending Silence.
For justice be it wielded, for peace be its purpose.
And now let the land be free.
Never again should man suffer the toil of battle.
Nor should woman lament in the ache of loss.
Nor should child cry out in fear.
Extract from the journal of Trellan, first Grand Master Wizard of Endovaar.