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Amantarra
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Amantarra
Unavailable
Amantarra
Ebook468 pages7 hours

Amantarra

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Amantarra is the first book in “The Ascension of Valheel” series.
The city of Valheel had once been an exciting place to live and work. Having reached the limits of what was technically possible in the universe, the Bruwnan had crafted a new reality for themselves outside the dimensions of Euclidean space time, a virtual reality, but a reality none the less. The city was built on the inside of a sphere. Within it, and free from physical form and its associated frailties, the Bruwnan concentrated on the exploration of science and art.
That was more than half the age of the universe ago. All scientific notions and forms of art had been explored, abstracted, resurrected and recycled many times. There was nothing left to explore and complacency had descended on the Bruwnan. Valheel had lost is vibrancy, it was a city of immortals that felt dead.
Amantarra couldn’t remember which came first, the sense of constriction that the city now gave her or the feeling that something was fundamentally wrong. It was when her father first voiced his concerns that people were disappearing that brought about the realisation that they were slowly and secretly being wiped out. Something had found a flaw in immortality.
Three hundred thousand years ago her sister had set out to do something about it. That was the last they’d heard from her. Now, after many years of experimentation, it was Amantarra’s turn to pick up the gauntlet. Her first act of aggression buys the time she needs to create a weapon of unimaginable power. But despite her efforts to remain hidden, the fight follows Amantarra to Earth where it all starts to go horribly wrong.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateApr 16, 2014
ISBN9780957325760
Unavailable
Amantarra
Author

Richard J. Galloway

When I was a teenager I was fairly skilled at drawing. I produced some good pencil images which sadly have now been lost. There was a drawing of an engine from a Rolls Royce Camargue. It was large, and the shading of it used up three pencils. I remember the hours I spent on its production during the summer holidays, and the music I listened to as I worked. I was destined to go to Art College, but family circumstances meant that I never got there. Instead, I finished up getting a job. My working career started in Architecture, where with ink stained fingers and an adjustable setsquare I turned the architect’s concepts into technical drawings. Eventually the drawing boards were abandoned in favour of computers, which led me to forge a career using the dark arts of information technology. The technical world in which I found myself doesn't really cater for artists, and for a long time I didn't do anything creative. The artist in me had been well and truly suppressed. Suppressed, but not forgotten, and certainly not gone. There was still a thread that connected us together. The artist called to me from the wilderness, whispering in my ear, subtlety altering my perception of things. He fed my mind when it needed to escape the tedium that work can sometimes be. Reading was the thread that bound us, and I don't remember a time when I haven’t had at least one book on the go. Sometimes though, reading isn’t enough. There wasn't a specific point when I decided to write a novel. There was no revelation moment. One day I just started writing about how I had received the silver watch mentioned in Amantarra. I then attached a fantasy aspect to the gift, which led to the birth of Valheel, the creation of Elleria, Amantarra, and a puzzle surrounding all of them. The artist had escaped. Several months after I first published Amantarra, I met someone I hadn't seen for thirty years. He was a friend of my father's and I've known him since I was four. At some point in the conversation I told him I was a published author. "You haven't changed," was his comment. He seemed disappointed that I still retained some aspects from my childhood. Things that he thought I should have grown out of. Quite what he was expecting me to have become I don't know, but I make no apologies for disappointing him. I have never lost my fascination with the imagery that good story invokes. I hope I never will.

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