The Diamond Warriors
From the author of ‘Neverness’ comes a powerful epic fantasy series, the Ea Cycle, as rich as Tolkien and as magical as the Arthurian myths. This is the climactic final volume.The world of Ea is an ancient world settled in eons past by the Star People. However, their ancestors floundered in their purpose to create a great stellar civilisation on the new planet: they fell into moral decay.Now a champion has been born who will lead them back to greatness, by means of a spiritual – and adventurous – quest for Ea’s Grail: the Lightstone.His name is Valashu Elahad, and he is destined to become King. Blessed (or cursed?) with an empathy for all living things, he will lead his people into the lands of Morjin, into the heart of darkness, wielding a magical sword called Alkadadur, there to recover the mythical Lightstone and return in triumph with his prize.But Morjin is not to be vanquished so easily…This is the fourth and final volume of the epic Ea Cycle. The battle will be fought, mysteries unravelled, the courage of Valashu tested to its limit. The reason the Valari came to Ea from the stars will be made known.
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The Diamond Warriors
Book Four of the Ea Cycle
DAVID ZINDELL
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the authorâs imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
HarperVoyager An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd. 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by HarperVoyager 2007
Copyright © David Zindell 2007
David Zindell asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
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Source ISBN: 9780006486237
Ebook Edition © AUGUST 2016 ISBN 9780007386536 Version: 2016-09-01
CONTENTS
On clear summer nights, I have stood on desert sands in awe of the stars. From these countless radiant points, my ancestors believed, comes all that is good, beautiful and true. The Lightstone had its source there. The stars make light itself and that secret, irresistible force which warms angelsâ hearts and illuminates all things. What man could ever hold this most brilliant of fires? Only one who can endure burning. And one who wills with all his heart that the stars must go on shining forever and can never die.
They shone upon my grandfather and upon Elahad and the ancient Valari who came to earth from other worlds; and still they shone upon my world, even though the Great Red Dragon named Morjin threatened to make war upon all Eaâs lands and call down that black and starless night without end. In the spring of the fourth year since I had set out to seek the Lightstone and defy Morjin, the stars guided me home. Late into evenings filled with the calls of meadowlarks and the fragrance of new flowers, my companions and I ventured across savage lands, setting our course by Aras and Solaru and the heavensâ other bright lights. And at dawn we journeyed toward the Great Eastern Sun: the Morning Star for which my grandfather had named me Valashu. This fiery orb still rose each day over the mountains of Mesh and the dwellings of my people. Where Morjin called my brothers and sisters demons from hell that must be nailed up on crosses or burned alive, I knew them as noble warriors of the sword â and spirit â who remained true Valari. It was upon me to return to them in order to seize my fate and become their king.
On the first day of Soldru, on a warm afternoon, my seven companions and I rode through the Valley of the Swans below my familyâs ancient, burned-out castle. Our way took us through a thick and ancient wood. Here grew tall oaks and elms through which I had run as a child. Wild grape and honeysuckle twined themselves around the trunks of these great trees, while ferns blanketed the forest floor. Many flowers brightened this expanse of green and sweetened the air: bluets and trillium and goldthread, whose white sepals gleamed like stars. Each growing thing, it seemed, greeted me like an old friend to which I had long ago pledged my life. So it was with the warblers and the sparrowhawks calling out from branch or sky, and the rabbits, voles and badgers who made their abodes beneath them. Our procession through the trees startled a stag feeding on the bracken; just before he sprang away, his large, dark eye fixed on my eyes and called to me as if we were brothers. He did not, I sensed, worry that his forest home might soon be destroyed and the whole world with it This great being cared nothing for the struggles and aspirations of men, and knew only that it was good to be alive.
âAh, another deer.â Next to me, from on top of a big, brown horse, my friend Maram watched the stag bounding off through the trees. He was himself a big man, with a thick beard and soft brown eyes which easily filled with worry. âThese woods are still full of deer.â
We rode along a few paces, and our horsesâ hooves cracked through old leaves and twigs.
