Xannu - The Healing
Book 2 of 'The Southern Lands' saga
English schoolboy Terry West does. Frequently. After digging up some rune coins near a roman road, he has been living in another world inhabited by warlocks, seductresses, priests and prophecy. There Terry is a soldier, Teern Truthbringer, who has been tasked with finding the Xannu - 'he who will lead the people into deliverance.'
For fans of Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter and The Narnia Chronicles, the first installment in a thrilling epic fantasy series…
Would you wake up in a hot sweat if you lived your night’s dreams as a soldier battling un-earthly creatures, witnessing powerful magic and fighting to save your own life on a daily basis?
English schoolboy Terry West does. Frequently. After digging up some rune coins near a roman road, he has been living in another world inhabited by warlocks, seductresses, priests and prophecy. There Terry is a soldier, Teern Truthbringer, who has been tasked with finding the Xannu - 'he who will lead the people into deliverance.'
If only it wasn’t real; but it is. Very real. When it all began it was even enjoyable, but now Terry’s life is getting very complicated. Somehow he involved his best friend Joe and although it had seemed a good idea at the time, the consequences had been dire. Then there is Susan, the leggy sister of klutzy school-friend Brian. Why does she keep sending him messages?
Terry is struggling to balance the two lives he leads and every day he is losing his grip on reality just a little bit more. He’s been forced to kill enemies; his companion, the magical woman Maria, is scaring him half to death with her abilities; and his parents are on his back about his school work.
How will he balance the two lives he leads, solve two sets of problems, and understand the lessons he receives from both? Only time will tell. But time is something Terry doesn't have too much of, as everything is unfolding in ways he could never have imagined!
“My name is Elizabeth Simmons,” she said in a flat voice, sobbing into the microphone. “I’m Joe’s mother.” She paused briefly and tried to regain her composure. “He’s been missing for six weeks.” She stared out blankly at the assembled crowd of reporters. Instinctively her eyes searched him out, but her other son wasn’t among them. “None of us knows where he is. None of us knows what has happened to him.” She fought back another tear and lifted a hand to her face.
The crowd listened in silence to the middle-aged woman as she made her broken-hearted appeal on national TV. She looked much older than her forty-five years suggested; the stress of the last few weeks had clearly taken its toll. Her normally well kept permed hair was covered with a headscarf, and her heavy make-up and bright red lipstick looked hastily applied. Her right hand gripped a still burning, half-smoked, cigarette.
“If there is anyone who has any information on where Joe is, please tell the police.” She paused, looking out once more. Her eyes misted over. “I love my baby, I miss him.” This time she couldn’t stop herself from crying and she wept uncontrollably into the microphone. A woman police constable quickly moved to console her and whispered reassuring words into her ears. The crowd remained silent, staring up at the makeshift platform that had been assembled in the Methodist Church hall. Finally she was ready to continue once more. “If you’re out there watching Joe, please come home. We miss you.” Not able to say anything else, she ran from the platform into a side room where her son and ex-husband were waiting.
“Joe Nathan Simmons went missing from his home in the early hours of October the fifth,” the Detective Sergeant said, taking his place at the microphone and reading from his notes. “At this time we do not know if he was taken against his will, or he simply ran away. We have no leads; no one has come forward with information, and nothing appears to be missing from the home. There have been no sightings of him, and no ransom demands.” The sergeant looked out over the assembly of faces packed into the church hall. “Joe is twelve years old, about five feet three inches tall, with brown eyes. Pictures are available in the press pack. If anyone has any information relating to his disappearance, then please come forward. Somebody somewhere must know something.” The sergeant took a photograph from his pocket and held it up to show the crowd. A few cameras flashed. “Okay. I’ll take questions now…”
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