Age of Rust is a tale of displaced youth, the struggle for life, and the peril of love in war-time.
Age of Rust
by Thaddeus Yeiser & Conrad Bair
Genre: Dystopian War Fiction
No records show how it happened, though everyone has their beliefs as to why the golden age of man fell seven hundred years ago. Since, humanity has managed to rebuild a modest civilization from the ruins. Now a medieval war begins to ravage the land once known as America. The lives of six young men become ensnared in the violence as they serve the Eastern army. Chief among them are Tavin, the son of a respected general and Seneca, a physician drafted away from his studies.
But the six heroes notice that something has changed inside themselves. Their minds are subtly connected in a way that cannot be explained but lends them increased prowess on the battlefield. Inevitably, their skills place them on a collision course with Kayzitt that will shape the future of the nation.
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Age of Rust - Excerpt 2:
The hopes and dreams of childhood have largely been replaced by one all-consuming hope that is dashed again and again only to resurge with the same meager entreaty. Please, may the world not give me any more reasons to hate humanity.
They followed Oil'ib like a pack of dogs upon the heels of a buck. Seneca pressed his knees in against the heaving ribs of the horse. As they climbed the final hills along the ridge of the great Pennsylvania canyon, the terrain grew rougher with oblong stones about the poorly kept road. A rainstorm had risen the level of the river high enough to make the valley road impassable. Instead, they were forced to take their horses along the trails that followed the curve of the precipice beside them.
Oil'ib was desperate to see them to Canyontown. He had been quiet and had only stopped to rest his horse twice the whole day, never fully recuperating. Seneca understood. The fear that gripped Oil'ib was palpable.
At last the road flattened out into a marshy plain with a ring of rounded green mountains like a crown. At the bottom of the slope, Oil'ib slowed his horse, or perhaps it could not go any longer. The froth upon its brown lips had thickened there and its mouth hung open in the hackamore, panting from the heat of the work.
“Oil’ib where are we?” Seneca urged, but he received no response.
“Oil’ib where are you taking us?” Gannon pleaded, but again no response was offered.
"Home."
They had only time to glance amongst themselves before Oil'ib again urged his horse forward along a road that encircled the plain like a ring. He led them along a curve in a thickly bushed stream and then again up another steep hill. Here Seneca caught up to Oil'ib, who had slowed noticeably, more than the hill required. His eyes were cast only upon the horizon of the hill itself, where the gray casting of the sky met the beaten brown road. When they finally crested, Oil'ib let go of the reins and their horses stopped alongside his. There, nestled into the side of the hill, the alfalfa grass lower down upon the slope of their property waved lightly in the air that rose from the valley. And above that field was the charred skeleton of a family home. Seneca's heart seemed to miss several beats. Without asking, he knew what this meant, to Oil'ib and to the future of their mission. He saw it etched clearly in his mind. He saw the weeks of grief, anguish, revenge, and hatred. He saw the poverty of obsession that would now brand his friend's life.
This will be forever.
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