Bastard of the Gods

A mystical fantasy novel from a world that is irretrievably disappearing

Times are changing. Where once there was inhospitable wilderness, settlements are growing in place of the felled trees. Stone has been replaced by metal, ships are increasing on the seas, and the North, always fierce and fierce, no longer has the strength to resist the raids of its enemies. The last of the barbarian tribes throw themselves into a futile struggle against progress and civilization and die in oblivion.

Judok and Lugh, two warriors from the ancient tribe of the Black Runners, are beginning to realise that their time has passed. They try to resist, but change is like a raging river - it cannot be stopped. What value do their traditions still have? What power do their forgotten gods possess? What's the point of dying for anyway?

But fate has its own plans, despite their doubts and prayers, and even the most cunning shaman now has no idea what awaits him. Can the two heroes resist all the pitfalls and carve out a place for themselves in the new world?

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Marek Dvořák combines fantasy with tribal legends to create a compelling myth - a narrative about an ancient fictional world that is eerily similar to our own.

They sang for a long time. It must have been morning by now; The hooting of owls was replaced by the chirping of thrushes, finches, coots and other birds, showing that they had survived the night and that their territory still had a rightful owner. Soon it will be dawn. Judok was stiff and needed to stretch, but couldn't. The song isn't over yet. The old shaman must have been tired too, yet he breathed again and again to continue the mantra.

The stillness of the forest was suddenly broken by a roar that echoed far and wide. Judok almost jumped as he was frightened. It sounded like some kind of beast, perhaps a cave lion, bear or cougar. But most of all, he felt that the sound was coming from a short distance away, as if some huge cat was lurking in the branches of the fir tree, ready to pounce on him, break his neck and bite his throat.

The shaman suddenly stopped singing and took off his mask.

"The time has come," he announced. "Come on."

— excerpt from the book