1 DAVID MASSA

David Massa was sitting in his favourite chair, reading the newspaper. This was not a peculiarly special chair, but David had made it his own.

His special seat had by now sunk and moulded into exactly the right shape. Without worrying too much he was reading about the state of the world, the planet earth, the place he sometimes called Bazmarah.

Many places in the universe were in such a condition, David knew that. The man had not forgotten about Shomaia, the land he travelled to seventeen years ago. Also, he did not forget that he came from that place, the realm of his birth. Mr Massa learned back and sank a little more into his comfy chair. He wasn’t even reading the words in front of him as he grinned broadly to himself.

‘What are you smiling at?’ asked the large woman, who had just joined him, sitting opposite on the sofa.

‘Nothing,’ David responded, smiling back at the woman. ‘Nothing, Jessica my dear.’

‘Nothing?’ returned Jessica, his wife of fifteen years.

David looked at his wife with appropriate love.

‘I was thinking about the Scrolls of Shomaia.’

‘Oh that,’ said Jessica. ‘I still can’t believe you done so well from it. What a silly place Shomaia is. Weird aliens; and the characters are Ridiculous.’

‘Well, I was just being honest,’ said David.

‘There you go again,’ added Jessica. ‘Making it all seem so real.’

‘Well it was real to me.’

David wanted so much to tell his wife straight that he travelled to the true Shomaia, found the book, fought in a war and looked something like a grey sheep with giant antlers. He knew, of course she just would never have believed him.

There would be one way she would believe. That would be if she were to visit Shomaia herself.

No, decided David. She still wouldn’t believe it.

On this thought the front door opened. There stood a school girl, with a light brown complexion and a mane of bushy dark red-tinted curling locks. Her satchel was still around her shoulder when she uttered the words ‘Hello, mum, hello dad.’

The daughter of Jessica and David knew and believed in Shomaia. Pearl was thirteen now, and she also knew she was an alien. Or at least a half alien. Like her father, Pearl did not try to convince her mother that Shomaia was all true. That was until one day, when Jessica just happened to ask the right questions.

‘I’ve always wondered David; where did you really get your idea for THE SCROLLS OF SHOMAIA?’

Pearl looked at her father. David answered his wife and had no reason to lie.

‘From the real place called Shomaia, the world where I was born.’

‘What? Don’t be absurd, David Massa. You’ve made it sound so real, but you are not truly saying Shomaia is a real place?’

David simply smiled at his large (over decade older than him) lovely wife.

‘It’s true, mum,’ said her daughter, excitedly holding her mother’s hand.

‘You haven’t gone there too, have you?’ asked Jessica.

‘No, but I hope Zeyvor will take me there one day.’

‘Zeyvor!’ screamed Jessica, standing and rubbing her red and greying head. ‘I don’t believe it.’

‘Yes, we know, mum,’ said Pearl as David laughed. Jessica turned to her husband with a deep frown. ‘What are you laughing at, you strange man?’

‘I’m sorry, dear,’ said David with honesty as usual. ‘This is why I haven’t told you.’

‘You really believe in all that Shomaian stuff?’ asked Jessica again with fear and scepticism. ‘When did you go there then?’

‘David stood and walked over to his wife, a spattering of grey around her temple.

‘You still look young,’ said Jessica, sadly.

‘I’m over fifty,’ he said.

‘And how old am I?’

‘You’re a beautiful woman,’ said David, kissing her on the lips.

‘Burr.’ Pearl pretended to be sick, placing her fingers in her mouth.

‘Do you remember that day I met you at your bungalow on the way to work?’ continued David.

‘I gave you a lift to work every day for a long time after that,’ said Jessica, remembering.

‘We lived together for a while, remember? The first day, one Monday morning. I proposed to you on the Saturday,’ added David, urging Jessica’s memory to work.

‘Yes, I do; Monday August 2000…the Saturday was the 12th, the Monday before was the 7th.’

‘Yes, that’s right,’ David continued. ‘I had just returned from Shomaia on that Monday.’

‘I see,’ said Jessica. ‘That doesn’t prove anything. But your face does. You believe, I know that.’ She turned to face her daughter. ‘And so do you. Bloody hell!’

Jessica sat while her mad husband and convinced daughter stared at her big brown eyes. Before any more could be argued, Jessica opened her eyes wide.

What’s that?’

‘What’s what?’ David and Pearl asked in one voice.

‘That wavy thing on the window.’

David and his daughter turned to view the scene in their sitting room. An arched opening had spread across most of the window, blocking out the sun. A dim beam blazed within, as it bubbled, crackled and hissed.

‘I’ve never seen anything like this before,’ exclaimed David, as if he was a novice to such happenings.

‘I thought you was an expert to such things,’ shivered his wife. ‘This is a dream. This is a dream. I’ll wake up in a minute.’

‘It’s a portal of some description,’ concluded Pearl, leaning towards it.

‘KEEP AWAY FROM IT!’ Screeched her mother. ‘Keep away.’

‘It’s nothing like anything I have walked to through to travel to Shomaia,’ observed David, gazing thoughtfully at the oblong object. ‘Zeyvor usually took me there. He just seemed to appear. There was that alley at first, and a river from Shomaia, my first trip. But this is completely different.’

‘Yes, it’s different,’ agreed Pearl. ‘Dad, do you remember in your book, Zeyvor visited the kings of Maro? He would tell them to use a different name for the Original One?’

‘I think so,’ said her dad blankly, scrutinizing the opening with obsession.

‘Well, I think this is a different way to get to Shomaia. You know, a new way.’

‘You could be right, Pearl. Very observant.’

‘Should we go through?’ asked the girl, walking towards the hole without concern.

‘NO!’ Screamed her mother. ‘I am not going through some weird fizzing hole-type-thing. Whatever next; Jumping from tall buildings?’

‘Maybe your mum is right,’ said David, always cautious himself. His daughter stared at her father in true disbelief.

‘Dad, this must be from Zeyvor or the Original One.’

‘It must be, I know,’ David conceded.

‘You are not really thinking of walking through there, are you?’ Jessica asked.

‘You don’t believe in all this stuff,’ Pearl reminded her mother. ‘If it’s all a dream, it doesn’t matter, does it mum?’

‘If it’s not…’

‘…It must be a doorway to Shomaia, which would be a real place,’ added the daughter of Jessica, trying to convince her mother with logic.

Jessica looked at her daughter, for the first time removing her gaze from the twilight zone.

‘Sometimes, I wish you weren’t so clever Pearl, I really do.’

‘So, are we going through, mum?’ beamed Pearl, looking up at her mother. Her mother looked down at her daughter; a little lamb with big eyes.

‘I’ve got no choice now have I?’ sighed Jessica, half to herself. ‘For the sake of all that’s holy.’

2 A TRIP TO DORANO

‘Stay calm, Jessica,’ David said to his wife and daughter, before they placed one shoe inside the portal. ‘You may experience a side-effect, or three. Especially you Jessica.’

‘Is that right David? Brilliant,’ said his wife. ‘I hope this is a bloody dream, I really do.’

Pearl looked up at her mum and dad. She was excited and worried all at the same time as she went with her parents through that bright and sparkling opening to where she had not a clue. Next the Massa family were thrusted into deep light, a flash and finally thrown, coming to a hard landing on some massive blue field. David stood, and immediately examined his hands. They were deep grey with three stubby digits. He touched his head; bald with two curly horns. Next, he ran his tongue along his sharp teeth.

‘Lohos has returned,’ he declared in shomaian (Lokhas shadaribats)

Now, he caught sight of a small female lamb-like creature near him. She was beautiful- baring a mid-grey coloured skin, two small antlers and the blackest hair hanging down her back in thick natural dreadlocks. The lovely puppy however was crying.

‘Pearl,’ David said in the old Shomaian language he knew. Only he didn’t say Pearl, but Taliosh, the Shomaian translation. The crying shom cub stopped her weeping.

‘Afar,’ she uttered in surprise. ‘What am I saying? This is not English (Bazmaran).’

‘No,’ confirmed her father, ‘you are speaking Shomaian. ‘Where’s your mother?’

Both shoms looked around but saw no other person. Taliosh, who had been so excited before stepping through the crackling portal, now began to cry again.

Then there came a slight sound and Lohos was drawn to stare at the blue ground. There standing still was a miniature version of Jessica, still very much human. She looked up at the monster in front of her and screamed.

‘Be quiet, Jessica,’ said Lohos, but his little wife did not understand him. He appeared to her more like a horrid giant monster roaring horribly at her than her loving husband.

Lohos bend down and picked up the tiny human and placed her into a pocket provided by the clothes he was wearing. Jessica probably thought the monster would eat her, but Lohos had to risk that. With his wife safely inside his pocket, the old Shomaian took his daughter’s hand and they continued their way into this world of their origins.

The vast field was empty, except for some large insects and tiny animals running about. They were not exactly as Lohos had remembered them; they were like the big insects called tantas, but smaller. In the air, there flew creatures, lizards as far as Lohos could tell, a lot smaller than the beasts he had known before called hemasholthas.

Pearl, or Taliosh held on to her father’s paw tightly as they walked on, the landscape was unmistakable- blue fields, white trees, bright yellow leaves, unearthly smells. Lohos was drinking it all in. His daughter, on the other hand was not at ease, her bovine eyes were open wide and frightened.

‘It’s gonna be alright father, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, naturally,’ said Lohos, as they met a modern type pathway. Eventually the red path led them to a kind of town. They both looked along the buildings which were formed from hills and trunks of trees, arched in shape. Several beings walked about, busy and not noticing the foreign pair. Most of these resembled goats or sheep and were black in colour.

‘I’m scared,’ said Taliosh in Shomaian, her new language.

‘It’s all good,’ said Lohos, reassuring himself as much as his daughter, watching the curious Shomaians do their thing. These Shomaians seemed different somehow, but Lohos couldn’t decide in what way. The one thing he had noticed was their antlers seemed to be cut short, unlike the proud tall horns of his old friends in Shomaia.

‘Time must’ve move on,’ he decided. ‘But how long, I don’t know.’

As Lohos spoke a vehicle sped passed along the road. A car of some description painted in a simple grey, very square in shape and awkward as it wobbled along the crooked road.

‘I don’t think any of my friends will be alive,’ Lohos concluded. ‘We are cycles after that time,’ he declared with grave disappointment. ‘But we are meant to be here. All is how it must be.’

Further they ventured into this modern town. Passing the creatures of modern Shomaia. They began to stare at Lohos with suspicion, his extended antlers appeared to distract them. When a flying vehicle went over head, for a moment Lohos thought he was home in Bazmarah. This crude object was like the land vehicle, and not flying straight, but bouncing into the air like a ball, Lohos found everything around him very strange.

Lohos with his daughter Taliosh walked along the path passing a building clearly formed out of a grand old tree. Taliosh gripped her father’s paw tighter as a gang of young, loud shoms made their way onto the road towards the two who tried to walk on quietly. At first Lohos thought they were females for they had long hair hanging down their backs. But no, the voices were thick and throaty just like a male Shomaian. Why they were wearing hair Lohos could not begin to imagine. Five, there were, loud, arrogant and mischievous. The five goat-like animals walked on towards the strangers. There came no Shomaian greeting of salthakh.

‘What’s this, dad and daughter out for a nice little walk?’

The gang of youth-goats started to come nearer still toward Lohos and Taliosh. Here there was shouting from the coat pocket of Lohos.

‘What’s going on, what’s happening?’ Jessica was yelling in English, though her husband and daughter didn’t hear or understand.

The unusual town filled with tree-buildings and hill-shops were near empty, Lohos was curios and scared, as five fierce rams stood in front of them. Taliosh was about to cry. However, to the relief of them both, an adult shom appeared from the swerving red path.

‘That will do, young cubs,’ he ordered the long-haired goats. ‘Nothing to do here; go home now, good shoms. Off you go.’

The shom youths peered at the elderly creature, sneered, turned and grumbled in youth Slang and strolled away in the opposite direction, where they went on laughing and playing with their long hair. When they were gone, the elderly shom spoke honestly to Lohos.

‘Follow me, before you get into any more trouble. This way. Everything will be as it should be, my friends.’

‘Wha…Wha…What’s happening?’ blubbered Lohos, scared, confused and a tiny bit angry.

‘Come with me to my home, I shall tell you all you need to know there,’ continued the short, stout black Shomaian ram.

The three, plus Jessica in Lohos’ pocket went along passing weird shaped houses and pathways, orange trees, pink skies and big insects flying about. Taliosh looked on in fearful fascination. The one who once travelled to Bazmarah was also shocked when he saw flying above him another large shinny object. He started to lift his head upward. The object was a different aircraft from the one he saw earlier. This was small and round, with two tiny wings each side. Lohos wondered how it could even take to the air at all. And like the bigger aircraft it was not flying but moving up straight into the air until it disappeared from view.

‘Come now, nearly there,’ urged the old dark shom, noticing that Lohos had stopped. ‘It’s just over here, my friends.’

Lohos blinked and followed on, Taliosh held firmly to her father’s paw, though everything felt very wrong. They now passed a row of white trees, which the trunks were carved into doors and windows, forming small homes. Lohos thought back to the ancient Thimans who built everything in tree trunks. They stopped at one path and walked towards a yellow front door. When the old goat pushed into the tree trunk, Lohos and Taliosh nervously went in behind him. When inside a little old female shom, black with bluish hair was sitting in the corner. On seeing the two, she smiled and uttered the word sachakh.

Naturally and without thinking both Lohos and his daughter proclaimed sachvus, the return greeting. However, Lohos was frowning.

‘What’s the trouble?’ asked the old shom. ‘I know, that word was said differently the last time you were here, yes?’

‘Yes,’ answered Lohos. ‘They said salthakh before in Shomaia. And what do you mean when I was here before? Who do you think I am?’

‘I know exactly who you are, my hero,’ said the old shom with confidence and a pointed paw. ‘You are Losa the hero, Baro of Shomaia, the ancient world.’

‘Who, what?’ spluttered Lohos. ‘Losa, Baro of Shomaia?’

‘Oh yes,’ said the elderly couple together. ‘You weren’t called that before, were you?’

‘No,’ uttered the flustered hero. ‘Can I sit down please?’

‘Yes, of course. Your name was pronounced Lokhas back then, wasn’t it?’

‘Yes,’ said the Shomaian hero, or Baro, as he took the seat near the wall, wiping his brow. All this time poor Taliosh was more confused and frightened as ever. The female shom went to her and whispered. ‘Come with me my little one, I’ll show you around then we’ll have a nice cup of nushmusa.’

She led Taliosh to an opening opposite, and they went through. Lohos watched as his host declared.

‘My name is Togo, son of Besh, the wife’s name is Lati.’

The ex- Bazmaran smiled at the little dark skinned shom.

‘It is a pleasure, Togo. I am indeed Lohos…Losa; who you said I was. You are very dark for a Maran, aren’t you?’

‘What?’ Togo uttered in a shock. ‘I’m no Maran, my friend. We’re from the northern country of Togin. This part of the realm hasn’t been called Marho for more than one hundred cycles. This country is called Ramid on the continent of Shoma.’

Next Losa stared at Togo.

‘Are you all black here? This used to be a cooler country. It’s so hot, like Tokania.’

‘Most of us are black as the dirt, Losa,’ answered the little shom. ‘Only those in charge are white or light grey; others are your colour, a nice mid-grey.’

‘I understand,’ exclaimed the ex-Maran. ‘I think I understand. Are there other continents?’

‘Wait there, Losa; I’ll get a map.’ Mr Togo, the fascinating little sheep, slipped up some steps at the side of the wall. The next moment Taliosh and Lati appeared from the room opposite.

‘I’ll make that nushmusa now,’ said the female of the tree home gleefully. ‘She’s a lovely one your daughter. She’ll be good now. A nice cup of nushmusa, will do the job.’

As the elderly female went on with her work, Lohos could not help but think of his mother (or Zeyvor). Here he was forced to stop his pondering when his pocket began to shake and stretch. He let out a kind of screech, remembering his wife. He shoved his paw into his pocket and grabbed her, throwing the tiny creature to the floor just in time to observe a large Shomaian female appear in the middle of the little tree trunk house. When the Bazmaran who had been Jessica Nicholls-Massa had finally and decidedly formed. She let out a volley of her first Shomaian words.

Now if the author translated her lyrical phrases into English, there would be a temptation to use obscene language not fit for nice people, but as it happens a literal translation is more helpful to understand how swearing works in this modern realm and Shomaia of old. This is what she said.

‘What in all Tokania is nicely going on? I’ve never been so beautifully scared in all my flowering life! Pretty pretty pretty!’

Mrs Togo covered her small ear holes at the rant just as the male shom of the house returned down the steps with his collection of maps.

‘What’s happening here then?’ he said cheerily.

3 THE GOSPEL OF SALTHASOS

The wife of Losa was now sitting on the floor, crying and blubbering like a mad goat.

‘What’s going on, what is going on?’ she was saying in a language she didn’t know yet understood clearly.

‘All as it should be, my wife,’ said Losa, trying to comfort the female Bazmaran. After something of a struggle his wife pulled herself to her feet.

As a Bazmaran Jessica was large and lovely, in her Shomaian form she was gorgeous, big chested and tall. In the ancient realm any shom would’ve mistake her for a Thiman. Her long brown-orange hair hung down her back in natural ringlets. While her husband gasped, Lati gave her husband a heavy whack before he could think or utter a single shomaian word.

‘Are you feeling better now, Jessica?’ Asked Losa. However, he didn’t say Jessica but Eya.

Eya formed a type of smile around her new-found muzzle. ‘Yes, I think so,’ she answered. ‘So, this is Shomaia is it?’

‘No,’ said her husband plainly. ‘This is Ramid on the continent of Shoma…’

Losa stopped.

‘What do you mean?’ quizzed Eya firmly with interruption. ‘Is this Shomaia or not?’

The shom of the house helped.

‘We call our planet Dorano,’ Togo told Eya and Losa, bringing a large book over to the table in the centre of the room. ‘Look at this book of maps.’

When the old creature turned the pages to the middle, Losa sighed as he looked at an alien planet laid out before him full, with five continents, Shoma in the middle area, the largest continent. Shomaia was now a fully formed planet.

‘This place is so different from the time I was here last,’ Losa exclaimed more in awe than at his first return.

‘Yes,’ agreed Togo, ‘Shomaia was a new dimension, rather than a planet all those cycles ago.’

‘So, where are we now?’ asked Losa staring blankly at the map.

‘Just about…there,’ answered the Doranan pointing with one of his fat digits in the middle of the continent named Shoma.

‘Yes, naturally,’ uttered the ancient Shomaian hero, who had travelled to Bazmarah, twice and returned… twice. ‘I don’t know what to ask you next.’

‘That’s all fine. We will try to answer all the same, my friend.’

Here Togo, with the help of his wife, explained all they could about this new world they both knew and loved as Dorano.

‘This region here in the south,’ explained Togo, ‘is called Roshel. That continent has cold winters there. Over here next to Roshel is Manoi. On the other side, the eastern side is the continent of Atey.’

‘What’s this?’ Losa asked pointing to a great landmass to the north of Atey which sat to the left of the map. North was in the position we would say is west on Bazmaran maps.

‘That is the great continent of Grana.’

All shoms Eya included, continued to scan the interesting map in silence. After a moment or more, Losa asked another question.

‘What’s this?’

‘Writing,’ answered Togo.

‘That has changed too?’

‘Yes, I’m sure.’ Togo agreed.

‘What is the date now?’

‘Date?’ asked the old shom.

‘Times around the sun,’ Losa explained, hoping Togo would understand. ‘A calendar.’

Togo seemed puzzled for a second or more, before continuing.

‘Oh yes, I know what you mean: we count the cycles: that’s ten full spins around the sun. We are in 200.1/ 2 since the coming of Sachaso. That is two hundred cycles, one rotation (five orbits or spins) and two spins around the sun.’

‘Sachaso, who’s Sachaso?’ quizzed Losa in slight anger.

‘Oh yes,’ said Togo. ‘You would’ve pronounced it mmm…’

‘Sa-tha-sos,’ Lati finished for her husband, making certain she said it correctly as she brought the nushmusa on a tray to lay on top of the map. Her husband huffed and removed the map, closing it and sitting on a chair opposite a square box that looked very like a television set.

‘Salthasos actually,’ Losa kindly corrected her.

‘Yes, of course,’ said Lati unoffended. ‘They say it is different all over Dorano, they simply call him THE HEALER on Grana and Eji.’

‘Yes, yes, my wife,’ interrupted Togo, rising from his chair, wanting to show off more of his superb map. ‘We can tell him all those details later, my wife.’

‘Now drink this and we will tell you more,’ added the female Ramidian with authority and a broad smile as she poured out the ancient and famous refreshment.

Togo glared at his wife and sat in his chair once more.

‘This is delicious,’ exclaimed Taliosh, tasting her first drop of nushmusa.

‘It’s amazing,’ added her mother. ‘Not as bitter as the Bazmaran version.’

Here Eya paused before she continued.

‘This is strange, speaking in an alien language, yet my mind is thinking in Bazmaran, I can’t even remember what that distant place is called in that other language.’

‘It seems very natural to me,’ said Taliosh. ‘And I do like this nushmusa.’ She smiled and drank the warm liquid down in two gulps.

‘That’s because you are half-Shomaian,’ concluded her father.

‘Indeed,’ agreed Togo rising from his comfy chair. ‘This is all strange for us too; we’ve never met an alien.’ Togo the old goat took a paw of Eya and kissed it.

‘Yes,’ uttered Mrs. Togo and smacked her husband’s interfering paw. Losa started to laugh. So too Eya then Taliosh, before the elderly couple joined in with the whole house in hysterics.

After this amusing interlude, Losa asked another question.

‘Have you any cubs?’

‘A son,’ said Lati, not laughing.

There came an awkward pause as Togo answered the question.

‘Tokan left us and became part of a sect on Havuk. We don’t talk about him.’

‘Tokan,’ said Losa. ‘Great name.’

‘Yes,’ conceded Lati. ‘We named him after the good shom of ancient Shomaia.’

‘You seem disappointed in him,’ quizzed Eya, feeling all together comfortable.

‘We are proud,’ insisted Togo. ‘He was a good shom. But when he left…’

‘I should not have asked,’ conceded Losa. ‘Can I asked what you do, Togo?’

‘I’m a wood-cutter, of course. I was, retired now. All of my ancestors were- my father, his father…’

‘The ancient Thimans…I mean Chimans.’

‘You are correct, I have Chiman ancestry, Hero of Shomaia,’ added Togo in reverence.

‘Don’t treat me like that,’ said Losa, while his wife and daughter were chuckling.

‘I can’t help myself,’ conceded the old shom. ‘You are very famous, you know. There are religious and political movements in your name. Some even say you are the Afarsu himself.’

As Eya and Taliosh continued to laugh loudly, Losa tried to calm the situation.

‘Oh no, no, I am not Afarsu.’

‘Some say you would return after your disappearance, and then the unexplained events when Afarsu and Zeyvor mysteriously vanished,’ continued the female of the house, her bluish features burning alive and fresh.

‘You don’t believe this, do you?’ asked Losa, deeply concerned by what he had just heard.

The ancient Ramidian couple stared at each other with seriousness.

‘No,’ they said at the same time. ‘We are proud believers in Sachaso. We believe Salthasos/ Sachaso himself will return in his new form, this time with his father, the emperor of Dorano and all the realms.’

Lohos sat now. He rubbed his antler for the first time this visit.

‘What has happened?’ he uttered. ‘Afarsu returned and put Shomaia right. Is he not the king any longer?’

His wife and daughter drank nushmusa and seemed unfazed by all that was playing out before them.

‘Don’t worry, Losa,’ encouraged Lati, pouring more Doranan tea into his cup. ‘There are reasons for all of this.’

‘Do you have a copy of the Book of Shomaia?’ Losa asked in a near vacant trance.

‘Of course, my friend,’ said Togo, ‘I’ll get it for you.’

The old shom slowly walked to a bookshelf on the other side of the room. The few seconds that Togo took in collecting the book, gave Losa time to ask Lati something.

‘The young shoms around here, the males have hair and no antlers. What’s going on with that?’

The shomette of many rotations and cycles smiled when she answered.

‘Toupees, and they completely saw off their antlers. It’s the fashion the young stags say.’

‘Interesting,’ responded the visitor blankly.

‘Here it is, here it is,’ called Togo cheerfully, holding THE GREAT BOOK, or at least a copy of the book that Losa/ Lohos himself helped to find more that two hundred cycles ago. ‘And here is also this interesting new piece of literature on the subject,’ the shom from Ramid concluded, ever happy to help. ‘This fascinating volume contains three accounts from the event of the coming Sachaso, supposedly written by king Chonos of Chima, or Byula of Maro. No one knows which one is true, though many have an opinion on the matter, from all three to all kinds of ideas that have led to many

Impressum

Verlag: BookRix GmbH & Co. KG

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 30.07.2018
ISBN: 978-3-7438-7630-9

Alle Rechte vorbehalten

Widmung:
DAVID MASSA embarks on a journey more dangerous than his first. Wars and rumours of war persist on a new Shomaia. With his family, meets some new characters.