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"PROPHECY proves that Elizabeth Haydon is a superstar and not a one hit wonder. Haydon's world is so real the audience will feel that we too have been transported in time and space to a wondrous vision."—Midwest Book Review
"An exciting read that will pique new readers and delight fans of Haydon's first two books."—Romantic Times Gold Medal Review on DESTINY
"With bright and tender touches, Haydon breathes new life into fantasy in this sequel to her bestselling Rhapsody Trilogy. . . . The rich complexities of historical subtext, unsubtle scheming of religious and political leaders and classical romantic elements keep the pages turning. Although quite readable as a stand-alone work, the looks threads left untied promise numerous future volumes, which are certain to be devoured by Haydon's growing legion of fans."—Publishers Weekly on REQUIEM FOR THE SUN
A few days later, the soldiers reluctantly emerged under a cloudless sky, having reached the farthest extent of this section of their tunnel system, and the end of their patrol route.
Krarn stood on the rim of the craterlike ruins of the Moot, a meeting place from ancient times, now dark with coal ash and considered haunted. Nothing but the howl of the wind greeted him; no one lived in the rocky foothills that stretched into steppes, then out to the vast Krevensfield Plain beyond.
Having finished their sweep of the area, his men had quietly assembled behind him. Krarn was about to order them back into the tunnels when the hairs on his back---from his neck to his belt---stood on end.
It began as the faintest of rumblings in the ground. The tremors were not enough to be noticed on their own, but Krarn noted the trembling of vegetation, the slightest of changes in the incessantly dry landscape, little more than the disturbance that a strong breeze might make. He knew that it was no wind that caused this disturbance; it had come from the earth.
Silently ordering his men into a skirmish line, Krarn scanned the area, looking for any more signs. After a few minutes, the feeling passed, and the earth settled into stillness again. Nothing but wind sighed through the tall grass.
"Aftershocks," he muttered to himself.
With a shake of his head, Krarn led his men back into the tunnels.
And in so doing, missed the chance to sound a warning of what was to come.
As the days passed, the tremors grew stronger.
The surface of the Moot, baked to a waterless shell by the summer sun, began to split slightly, thin cracks spreading over the landscape like the spidery pattern on a mirror that had broken but not shattered.
Then came steam, the slightest of puffs of rancid smoke rising up ominously from the ground beneath the tiny cracks.
By day it was almost impossible to see, had eyes been in the locality to see it. By night it mixed with the hot haze coming off the ground and, caught by the wind, wafted aloft, blending with the low-hanging clouds.
Finally came the eruption.
Waves of shock rolled through the earth as if it were the sea, waves that intensified, growing stronger. The earth began to move, to rise in some places, shifting in its underground strata.
Then, with a terrifying lunge, it ripped apart.
The rumbling beneath the surface suddenly took on movement. It started outside of Ylorc but traveled quickly. It was heading north.
Unerringly, determinedly north, toward the icy land of the Hintervold.
All along the eastern rim of the mountains, then westward across the plains, a movement within the ground could be felt, a shifting so violent that it sent aftershocks through the countryside, uprooting trees and splitting crevasses into the sides of rolling hills, causing children miles away to wake in the night, shaking with fear.
Their mothers held them close, soothing them. "It's nothing, little one," they said, or uttered some similar words in whatever language they were accustomed to speaking. "The ground trembles from time to time, but it will settle and go quiet again. See? It is gone already. There is nothing to fear."
And then it was gone.
The children nestled their heads against their mother's shoulders, their eyes bright in the darkness, knowing on some level that the shivering they had felt was more than the ripples of movement in the crust of the world. Someone listening closely enough might sense, beyond the trembling passage, a deeper answer from below the ground.
Much deeper below.
As if the earth itself was listening.
Deep within her tomb of charred earth, the dragon had felt the aftershocks of the explosion of the mountain peak.
Her awareness, dormant for years, hummed with slight static, just enough to tickle the edges of her unconscious mind, which had hibernated since her internment in the grave of melted stone and fire ash in the ancient Moot.
At first the sensation nauseated her and she fought it off numbly, struggling to sink back into the peaceful oblivion of deathlike sleep. Then, when oblivion refused to return, she began to grow fearful, disoriented in a body she didn't remember.
After a few moments the fear turned to dread, then deepened into terror.
As the whispers of alarm rippled over her skin it unsettled the ground around her grave, causing slight waves of shock to reverberate through the earth around and above her. She distantly sensed the presence of the coterie of Firbolg guards from Ylorc, the mountainous realm that bordered the grave, who had come to investigate the tremors, but was too disoriented to know what they were.
And then they were gone, leaving her mind even more confused.
The dragon roiled in her sepulcher of scorched earth, shifting from side to side, infinitesimally. She did not have enough control of her conscious thought to move more than she could inhale, and her breath, long stilled into the tiniest of waves, was too shallow to mark.
The earth, the element from which her kind had sprung, pressed down on her, squeezing the air from her, sending horrific scenes of suffocation through her foggy mind.
And then, after what seemed to her endless time in the clutches of horror, into this chaos of thought and confused sensation a beacon shone, the clear, pure light of her innate dragon sense. Hidden deep in the rivers of her ancient blood, old as she was old, the inner awareness that had been her weapon and her bane all of her forgotten life began to rise, clearing away the conundrum, settling the panic, cell by cell, nerve by nerve, bringing clarity in tiny moments, like pieces of an enormous puzzle coming together, or a picture that was slowly gaining focus.
And with the approaching clarity came a guarded calm.
The dragon willed herself to breathe easier, and in willing it, caused it to happen.
She still did not comprehend her form. In her sleep-tangled mind she was a woman still, of human flesh and shape, not wyrm, not beast, not serpentine, and so she was baffled by her girth, her heft, the inability of her arms and legs to function, to push against the ground as they once had. Her confusion was compounded by this disconnection between mind, body, and memory, a dark stage on which no players had yet come to appear. All she could recall in her limited consciousness was the sense of falling endlessly in fire that had struck her from above, and blazed below her as she fell.
Hot, she thought hazily. Burning. I'm burning.
But of course she was not. The blast of flame that had taken her from the sky had been quenched more than three years before, had sizzled into smoky ash covering the thick coalbed that lined her tomb, baking it hard and dry in its dying.
Fighting her disorientation, the dragon waited, letting her inner sense sort through the jumble, inhaling a bit more deeply with each breath, remaining motionless, letting the days pass, marking time only by the heat she could feel through the earth when the sun was high above her tomb, and the cooling of night, which lasted only a short while before the warmth returned.
Must be summer's end, she mused, the only cognizant thought to take hold.
Until another image made its way onto the dark stage.
It was a place of stark white, a frozen land of jagged peaks and all but endless winter. In the tight containment of the tomb the memory of expansiveness returned; she recalled staring up at a night sky blanketed with cold stars, the human form she had once inhabited, and still inhabited in her mind, tiny and insignificant in the vastness of the snowy mountains all around her.
A single word formed in her mind.
With the word came the will.
As the puzzle solidified, as the picture became clearer, her dragon sense was able to ascertain direction, even beneath the ground. With each new breath the dragon turned herself by inches until, after time uncounted, she sensed she was pointed north-northwest. Across the miles she could feel it calling, her lair, her stronghold, though the details of what it was were still scattered.
It mattered not.
Once oriented in the correct direction, she set off, crawling through the earth, still believing herself to be human, dragging a body that did not respond the way she expected it to relentlessly forward, resolute in her intent, slowly gaining speed and strength, until the ground around her began to cool, signaling to her that home was near. Then, with a burst of renewed resolve, she bore through the crust of the earth, up through the blanket of permafrost, hurtling out of the ground in a shower of cracking ice and flying snow, to fall heavily onto the white layer that covered the earth like a frozen scab, breathing shallowly, rapidly, ignoring the sting of the cold.
She lay motionless for a long while beneath that endless night sky blanketed with stars, thought and reason returning with her connection to this land, this place to which she had been exiled, in which she had made her lair. The dragon inhaled the frosty wind, allowing it to slowly cleanse her blackened lungs as the dragon sense in her blood was cleansing her mind.
And along with thought and reason, something else returned as well, burning hot at the edges of her memory, unclear, but unmistakable, growing in clarity and intensity with each moment.
The fury of revenge.
Copyright © 2004 by Elizabeth Haydon
Posted February 1, 2007
I don't get it. I really don't! First, in Rhapsody, Achmed starts to like Rhapsody. In Propechy, it's even more apparent, and in Destiny, they kiss! Yay!!!But in Requiem for the Sun, that's vanished. But in Elegy for a Lost Star, when they were trapped in Llauron's wing, Rhapsody says she loves Achmed! Hello didn't any of you notice that? Or am I wrong? Did she mean just as a friend? Anyway, this was a great book, and I finished it in about a day. But...my main complaint is WHY Achmed and Rhapsody can't get together! I mean, why would Elizabeth Haydon even say that he loved her if it was unrequited love? She wouldn't be that cruel--or WOULD she? The parts with Talaquist were boring. Achmed is my favorite character! WHY does Rhapsody like stupid, STUPID Ashe? He's an airhead and pighead. He's just, as another reviewer said, a pretty boy. Achmed and Rhapsody were MEANT to be together! Oooh! Why...Elizabeth Haydon...HOW can you doooo this to meeee?
1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted November 2, 2005
I think the series should have ended with the first three fantastic books. Reqiuem and Elegy aren't up to par with the others. The plots aren't as engrossing or creative. The reappearences (or should I say ressurrections?) of such characters like Anwyn, seems tacky, like Haydon lost the inspiration to think of new characters. She also seems to have lost sight of the Three. The story revolves around Rhapsody and Ashe much more then it should. Achmed and Grunthor were key characters in the original trilogy and they also seem to be the most popular. In Elegy, however, Achmed only appears every 100 pages or so and there is hardly any mention of Grunthor. And everyone seems awfully cranky all the time... I hope the next novel will be better and more true to the first three. Haydon left many loose ends in Elegy that look promising and I will definately purchase the long-awaited sixth book but I think the new installments could have been much better and she shouldn't have tampered with her achievements in the series.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted July 16, 2005
Posted July 11, 2005
Again this book dragged a little too. And why does it seem through this book and Requiem that Achmed is having PMS? Just go tell her that you love her. You already kissed her you dum-dum! I hope something happens in the next book! It is titled the Assassin King for a reason, it's gonna be mainly about him. Can't wait!Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted April 30, 2005
Elizabeth Haydon has written some of the most captivating books i have ever read and The Symphony of Ages books are no exception. es a fantastic job and her books are worth ever second it takes to read them. i am looking forward with great excitement for The Assassin King. Definately a must read Series!Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted February 20, 2005
This book was very disappointing. I had a hard time finishing it. I had been impressed with the writing and the well thought out story in the first 3 books. Although the story in this book has potential, it lacks the intricate plot and the heart of the previous books.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted December 30, 2004
Not a book to pick up at bed-time. Hard to put down after I began reading. The only negative point I found is that it is no where near long enough. I can't wait for the next installment!Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted August 4, 2004
I can't believe how long it took for me to finally get this book, and how fast I read it. Ms. Haydon has done it again! Elegy is very different from the original trilogy, however. It moves faster, which is good, but it is a little spare on the lore we have come to expect from the Symrphony of Ages series. On the plus side, the action is wonderful, it reads really fast, and there is a LOT of Achmed, my favorite character! Ignore the ignorant cranks, and enjoy this series.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted December 9, 2008
Rhapsody and her half-dragon husband Ashe are enjoying the quiet serenity of married life. Both are elated that she is carrying his child and look forward to raising a brood of kids together. The calm has allowed their allies King Achmed and Grunthor to make progress on restoring the kingdom of Ylorc. Finally, they celebrate that their ward Gwydion has become an adult................................. Everything is perfect. Not! Vengeance is in the air. Assassins plan to kill Achmed because of his killing of their lead; Anwyn the Dragon has arisen like a phoenix with plans to kill Rhapsody who put him into the death-sleep that he lived for the past three years. Finally Sorbold Emperor Talquist has a new ally the evil seer Anwyn. The war to end wars seems imminent................................... The middle book of The Sympathy of Ages series is a solid fantasy that is a bit different in tone than the first series (see Rhapsody) or the first book in this trilogy (see REQUIEM FOR A SUN) as this tale contains much more action, but a lot less philosophical mythos. The story line starts slow as readers are lulled into the calmness that seems to be everywhere the trio are, but that serenity ends rather quickly into hyperspeed action packed thriller. Fans of the series will enjoy this rousing tale, but must adjust to the different tone............................. Harriet KlausnerWas this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted August 8, 2004
The best thing about Elizabeth Haydon's books is the apparent backstory. You always get the sense that you are hearing a little piece of a vast history that has been totally planned out. Elegy for a Lost Star carries on the tradition. Achmed fans will love it, and fans of the series will be dying to read the next one alreay.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted August 13, 2004
OK, First let me say that the first three Novels were well written, well planned out, etc. This book is lil more than a story. Come on, 315 pages ? The other books were 500-600 pages. Totally dissapointed.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted July 19, 2004
Posted May 14, 2004
Posted June 6, 2004
I hate this Trilogy, it's no where near as good as tthe SoT series or even the Halo series. Bland perfect characters mixed with excessive sex brings it down. For good sex, check out SoT.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted June 14, 2004
I love Elizabeth Haydon's novels. I find that the only thing excessive sex does in novels is to bring characters together explicitly so the reading audience can see that they are, in fact, together. Also, Ms. Haydon's novels do not need sex, because they combine wonderful storytelling with awesome character development. Hers is one of the best storylines that I have read, apart from Terry Brooks and Robert Jordan.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted July 14, 2009
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Posted October 9, 2012
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Posted April 7, 2010
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Posted October 26, 2008
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Posted August 21, 2009
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