EREBUS - BORTAG'S CURSE Follow on FacebookFollow on Twitter    

About The Novel
A five thousand-year-old prophecy, which foretold the genesis of Erebus, holds the key to a long-forgotten mystery of betrayal, tragedy and revenge in a village older than modern man.

The ancient city of Bortag, home of the moon-worshipping Astronomers' Guild, is the backdrop for this intriguing journey through Earth's history.

For Jonathan Malone, exiled in Erebus and assigned the task of researching this ancient culture, the secrets of Bortag's Curse may hold more than just the answers he's looking for; solving perhaps an even greater mystery, dating back to the very origins of mankind's evolution, and beyond.

Bortag's Curse takes the legend of Erebus to a whole new level. Written as a companion novel to the series, it can be enjoyed both as a stand-alone adventure, and as a stunning sequel or prequel to the earlier trilogy.

Bortags Curse

Bortag's Curse

Bortags Curse

Discover The Secret of Bortag's Curse

From The Novel
"So, Jonathan, our history has you enthralled I see."

He looked up from the mess of fragile, ancient clay tablets and parchment scrolls, rubbing his tired and watering eyes. He had not heard the Keeper enter the chamber and his voice startled him somewhat.

"Sorry," he said turning around. "I had no idea you were here, Kronac. But yes, it would seem that you have a most interesting past!"

Kronac, Lord of Erebus and Keeper of Souls, peered over Jonathan's shoulder. "Ah, so you've been reading some of the ancient accounts of the Astronomers' Guild?"

"Yes, although I'm not sure you could call it reading as such. I don't recall ever studying this archaic language, and yet the events which these tablets describe seem to fill my mind with such a clarity of knowledge, it's almost as if I was actually there!"

"And, in a fashion you are, Jonathan. At least, with your mind's eye. And you have the ability to recognise all of the world's languages now, even those dating back to the very genesis of the written word."

"But how is that possible, Kronac? I'd never even seen this form of pictographic language before today."

"As I said, every known language, even these ancient cuneiform texts, are as familiar to you now as is your own simple alphabet. It is but another asset of your permanence in Erebus!" The Keeper smiled.

"Great. Yet you have to persist with reminding me that I'm stranded here!" Jonathan said.

"I don't think that stranded is quite the correct term. Nevertheless, you will find that many such tasks will become second nature to you as you learn more of the secrets of Erebus."

"Oh, don't get me wrong, Kronac. I have accepted my fate, for now at least, and I'm grateful that I still exist on some level. But I miss my wife and family. That fact will never change, no matter how long I stay here."

"I understand that, Jonathan, and as I've repeated tirelessly, if there'd been any other way..."

"I know," Jonathan replied sadly. "It just takes some getting used to."

"So, what have you found out?" Kronac asked. He was dressed in a flowing charcoal robe, its colour a stark contrast to his pale and plump, gnome-like face.

"Quite a lot really," Jonathan told him, his green eyes suddenly alive with interest. "Although, as with most of what I discover in Erebus, it only serves to deepen the mystery! But I've been reading an interesting account, which, unless I'm mistaken, refers to your birth. Moreover, if I've translated the text correctly, then you're very lucky to have even survived to adulthood at all. And, that would mean that you were born about three thousand years before the coming of Christ!"

Kronac smiled at him, studying the smoothness of his well-proportioned face. The trademark attorney's moustache, which Jonathan had worn for many years, had now disappeared, as had much of the scar above his left eye, resulting in a less distinguished, yet kindly appearance, though without any of the gnomish or elfin features typical of the rorrim.

"Has it really been that long?" the Keeper replied.

All original content copyright © Neil C. Cladingboel 2002-2021. All rights reserved.