Land of Shadows (The Legend of the Gate Keeper Book 1) by Jeff Gunzel

incoherently as her eyelid fluttered. Then she began humming rhythmically as a strange fog began to fill the room, her body displaying quick little convulsions.
    Dragot had seen this show before, and was not the slightest bit rattled.
    Suddenly, her head snapped straight back, followed by her whole upper body doing a full back bend, so she ended up holding herself up by her hands and feet. She turned to face Dragot, looking at him upside down.
    As her mouth opened, a low, demonic-sounding rumble came from her mouth, and a voice not hers said: “The gate keeper has come of age. The Guardian seeks to protect him. When the dead follow him, the nations of man will unite.”
    Dragot trembled with anger. So the prophecies have finally come to fruition. Some mortal is going to try to take on a god.
    The demon stormed out of the room and began to think. He had known this day was coming for quite some time. Even he could not deny prophecy that was etched in the stars, but knew it was not absolute, and could be rewritten if the elements were correct. Now that it was here, he was going to have to deal with a very real threat.
    He felt foolish for a moment. His only real purpose had been to wait for this very moment, and now that it was here, he had been caught off guard. He had spies all over Tarmerria, however, and now that the man-child was of age, he could be detected. The manhunt needed to start immediately. His eyes and ears, human or otherwise, needed to be updated . I want him alive !
    He then smiled and composed himself once more. No mortal will ever pose a threat to me. Not even the Gate Keeper .

Chapter 4
    The whole town was bustling with energy ahead of the upcoming celebration. The streets were alive with colorful streamers hung from the trees planted on the sides of the roads. Wagons parked up and down the sides of the streets were sprinkled with colorful sparkles and glitter. Almost all the shops would be closed today, but their doors would be covered with still more vibrant decorations.
    Some porches held scarecrows sitting in rocking chairs, wearing hats and smoking pipes, while others had baskets of fruit that anyone was allowed to enjoy. Others hung origami birds attached to thin wires so they would appear animated while twisting in circles with the slight spring breeze.
    It was midday. Everyone was still setting up their stands and carts to be filled with fruit pies, chicken kabobs, kettles full of baked beans and other sorts of wonderful things. There would be a stick-fighting tournament later in the day, as well as choreographed sword-fighting that would resemble a dance. Others would wear costumes and parade around the streets, handing candy to the children.
    A common sight year-round, but especially today, were black banners graced with an orange sunset. This was the flag of Bryer, and the symbol used to represent the town both during business and celebration. But tonight’s celebration was to be the envy of all. Around this time every year, Bryer celebrated “Sanctas,” or “The Harvest.” In its early days, Sanctas was a way to celebrate and be hopeful that the bounty of crops that year would be plentiful. It was a long-standing tradition, a custom only done by Bryer, which had been practiced for many, many years. But in reality, the long-standing tradition these days was simply a celebration of life.
    With all the unrest and hard times to be found in Tarmerria, Bryer considered itself to be quite lucky, all things considered. Similar to Denark, Bryer’s trade business was vital to surrounding communities, so they were in little danger of being attacked anytime soon. The money they earned was plenty to sustain the smallish town, and Lord Hubert Pike was more than fair when it came to taxation as well as the general business of running the town and its people. What he had discovered in his many years of service was that balance was always the key. Even when the crops yielded far more than was expected that