Fezariu’s Epiphany Book Publicity Tour September and October 2011

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Join David Brown, author of the Fantasy novel, Fezariu’s Epiphany (CreateSpace), as he virtually tours the blogosphere September 5 – October 28 2011 on his first virtual book tour with Pump Up Your Book!

About David Brown

David Brown David Brown was born in Barnsley, South Yorkshire, and first conceived the idea of the Elencheran Chronicles at college in 1999. He spent ten years compiling the history of Elenchera, resulting in 47,000+ years of events, 500+ maps, 2000+ pages, several short stories and many much-needed acquaintances with Jack Daniels.

David also has a blog, The World According to Dave (http://blog.elenchera.com), which features reviews, stories and dramatic tales of the horrors of owning cats.

David now lives in Huddersfield, West Yorkshire, with his wife, Donna, and their six cats.

Fezariu’s Epiphany is his first novel. David is currently working on his second.

About Fezariu’s Epiphany

Fezarius big The White Oak, Clarendon’s oldest brothel, lured and destroyed men by the thousands. Fezariu was different. He had never been drawn by the White Oak’s vices but the brothel had still ruined him when he was just a boy.

Salvation came in the form of the Merelax Mercenaries – Elenchera’s most prestigious hired hands. They gave Fezariu the chance to escape from his past. Immersed in the world of dangerous assignments in the colonies Fezariu longed to forget everything about his childhood but only in facing the past would he ever be free of it.

Book Excerpt:

PROLOGUE
The unrelenting snow fell between the far-reaching deciduous branches of the vast forest, disguising an already barely discernible path that ran between the trees and into the heart of a steep valley. Amidst the persistent snowflakes and swirling breeze, a cruel game of cat and mouse was drawing to a close.
Feeling his breathing becoming heavy, Fezariu reached the crest of a slippery slope and immediately halted. He could feel his legs beginning to buckle beneath the weight of Tessera, who was drifting in and out of consciousness in his arms. Fezariu’s right hand, seeped in Tessera’s blood, maintained an uneasy grip on her trembling form, which was now playing out the final chorus of a young life.
‘How did it come to this, Fezariu?’ Tessera said, though her words were the faintest whisper soon lost in the jealous wind.
Fezariu could not muster a response. He continued along the path, his every step leading them further from the pursuing Himordians but deeper into the forest and closer to death. Fezariu grimaced at the sight of Tessera’s blood on the snow – a testament to her fading life and an unwanted trail for the Himordians to follow.
Just ahead, Fezariu could make out his troubled comrades – the Merelax Mercenaries. Each one had wandered willingly beyond the selflessness that had once made them equally feared and sought after throughout the world. Their attire – once of rich black silk with bejewelled sleeves – was ripped from the harsh terrain and punctured by wounds from the Himordians’ blades and arrows. Even the most basic armour that may have lessened the severity of these injuries was considered unbecoming of such accomplished warriors. This trademark had left the mercenaries unhindered since their inception but now their obvious mortality had never been better pronounced. Every mercenary now walked their own path with no concern or shred of guilt for the forsaken friends they had left behind. Steadfast loyalty, perseverance and endeavour were becoming unknown concepts to the last generation of Merelax Mercenaries.
A sudden lull in the snowfall allowed the overhanging moon to bask the valley in its nocturnal splendour. Fezariu’s gaze fell upon the crystalline glitter on the surface of the snow and he felt a slight ironic smile come to his numb lips as he absorbed this intricate beauty in the midst of countless fading lives. In his arms, Tessera awoke and now seemed oblivious to the mortal wound she had suffered in the battle the mercenaries had so decisively lost.
‘Do you remember when we first trained with General Bayard, Fezariu?’ Tessera asked, briefly closing her eyes, causing tears to run down her face, their trace briefly alleviating the bitter and enveloping cold.
‘My erstwhile teacher with selective hearing,’ Fezariu replied with a wry smile. ‘How could I forget?’
When Tessera failed to respond, Fezariu began to feel her edging closer to delirium. Her questions became frequent though she awaited no response or acknowledgement of any kind from Fezariu.
‘Do you remember sitting on the wall overlooking Redemption with Vintaro and smoking Mizuansi?’ Tessera asked, between painful coughs. ‘I can still see the luminous stars through the myriad of colours rising from the bowls of our pipes. The seemingly endless conflict throughout the streets was over and with it the rebellion. The city stood subdued and silent save for the foundations of the tallest buildings that still trembled in the aftermath of the devastation. Do you remember the torches that lit up the harbour at Strathmore? Our journey to Clarendon changed everything. We should never have gone there. It was never the same after that. Do you remember, Fezariu?’
Tessera coughed violently and gasped at the intense pain emanating from her wound. Fezariu could feel the few remaining fragments of life beginning to ebb from her veins, leaving him to lament his inability to do anything but allow the end to come.
In the returning snowfall, Fezariu perceived an obstacle to his path through the forest. It was a large lake, its surface frozen but the ice too thin to risk walking across. Fezariu turned as if to head back down the path but his legs would no longer carry him. He fell to his knees before slowly lowering Tessera onto the path. She was still breathing but now sporadically, while her eyes, filled with glistening tears, were permanently closed.
Fezariu gazed beyond the surface of the frozen lake and the heights of the forest to the starlit cosmos that had overlooked the crushing defeat the Himordians had inflicted on the Merelax Mercenaries. Fezariu found himself strangely content and at peace. There was nothing left to do but wait for death by the hands of the Himordians or by the severity of the falling snow.
As Tessera’s breathing continued to decline, Fezariu thought about his life: his birth in Larchfield, his later childhood on the sleazy streets of Clarendon and finally his blossoming career in the Merelax Mercenaries. Fezariu’s memories, so vivid in their poignancy and regret, played out smoothly in his mind and helped him to forget the frostbite that was now beginning to cripple his body.
Fezariu remembered his reason for becoming a mercenary in the first place, the same reason that had led him to this lonely place in the forest. It had all started in the White Oak, a squalid brothel in Clarendon, and Fezariu’s sad fate had been down to one woman – a prostitute named Wild Jessamine.

CHAPTER ONE: THE WHITE OAK
Clarendon was to be found in southern Odrica, its inhabitants always with one eye fixed north on Sincerity – the pristine and judicious capital that was the centre of all that made the island the dominant force it was today. Clarendon’s malevolence towards Sincerity was born not of envy but lamentation for its own glorious past.
When Odrica had first been settled, Sincerity was founded as the island’s capital but it lost its status in 3270 amidst a successful invasion by Beruvian forces from overseas. Clarendon was designated as Odrica’s new capital until 4406 when the island was further divided into earldoms and duchies. Clarendon then stood as the proud centre of Molkonia, the most powerful division on the island and retained its status when the duchy was later extended into a kingdom in 12664.
The rise from obscurity of the enigmatic rebel leader, Merzara, saw Odrica united once again under a solitary ruler in 13962. When Merzara was crowned as the first king of Odrica for more than nine thousand years all thoughts turned to which city would be the island’s capital. It was obvious the honour would fall to either Clarendon or Sincerity and inhabitants from both cities began vying for the new king’s attention. Merzara’s impassioned hatred towards Molkonia ensured that Sincerity regained its throne and the decline of Clarendon was set devastatingly in motion.
For decades Clarendon clung on to its former magnificence with the law painstakingly maintained, the economy thriving through the tireless work of the merchants and the streets kept meticulously clean of degradation. However, the absence of the Odrican kings from the city and the unenviable task of the overworked magistrates in watching every corner of Clarendon left the streets vulnerable to corruption.
On the western side of Clarendon, at the base of the city wall, appeared the earliest testament to the city’s growing affiliation with segregation from the rest of the island – the White Oak. Odrica’s first official brothel had opened in 14037 to slow business and obscurity but word soon spread through the increasingly sleazy streets and in time the White Oak became the most sought after establishment in Clarendon.
The catalyst for Clarendon’s descent into profanity was Carlos Birchill. In his youth Carlos had epitomised the hard work and dedication of Odrica’s merchants, plying his trade both at home and in the foreign lands to the east. However, it was in Valadomiar that Carlos first observed the brothels used by soldiers to alleviate the physical and mental ardour of their relentless conquests.
Having grown rich from his dealings overseas, Carlos returned to Clarendon to enjoy his dwindling years. The White Oak followed soon afterwards. At first it was a simple inn with two whores operating under Carlos’ watchful eye. Within months profits were soaring and the lustful demands of the patrons forced Carlos not only to employ further prostitutes but to restructure the White Oak. The inn was extended and twenty new rooms were installed to facilitate Clarendon’s growing need for sexual gratification and escapism.
When Carlos died in 14062 the White Oak remained under the ownership of the Birchill family. Each generation enhanced the infamous reputation of the inn. At first there were several brushes with the law but when the Birchill family offered the local magistrates the luxuries of the White Oak free of charge the inn was accepted and became the mainstay of Clarendon.
The White Oak continued to endure for centuries, its plethora of wealth helping maintain the inn and adapt it in line with the many advancements in architecture. When Vincent Birchill became the new owner of the inn, more than ten thousand years after its founding, the White Oak was basking in the heights of success. The discovery of new lands in the west had allowed the Birchill family to open the White Oak to business overseas. Ships bound for the colonies would loan the finest ladies from the inn to help assuage the colonists’ lonely months at sea. The already extensive wealth of the Birchill family and of the White Oak was augmented through shrewd dealings and the boundless corruption that continued to plague the streets of Clarendon.
Vincent’s early tenure of the White Oak was spent maintaining the high standards of his predecessors but over time his insatiable greed and paranoid fear of losing power became detrimental to the inn. The long-standing alliances with Odrican vessels bound for the west were severed and the White Oak slowly returned to the isolation of its founding on the edge of Clarendon.
Free of outside influences, Vincent was able to keep a tight leash on all his assets. He spent hours meticulously counting the White Oak’s profits, surreptitiously monitored the time allocated to the patrons with each of his prostitutes and retained the bulk of their takings for future investment in the inn. Vincent’s tyrannous grip on the White Oak only receded the day he met Jessamine.
* * *
Jessamine’s arrival at the White Oak was the subject of conflicting rumours. Some said that Vincent had found her on the streets and offered to take her in, others professed that Jessamine was a prostitute from a rival brothel and that Vincent had persuaded her to join the White Oak. The worst of the sceptics claimed that Jessamine was payment from one of the local merchants who was heavily in debt from his frequent visits to Vincent’s inn and had been forced to sacrifice his own daughter. Whatever the truth, Vincent arrived at the White Oak one day with eighteen-year-old Jessamine by his side.
The atmosphere at the White Oak changed completely. Vincent quickly found himself overwhelmed by love for Jessamine and his hostile demeanour descended into a rare placidity that was welcomed by all that frequented the inn. It seemed that Vincent’s days of sexual promiscuity were at end and with Jessamine he had found the reassuring comfort of monogamy. However, Vincent’s new found and tender devotion did not last long.
Within months, Vincent’s love submitted to the lure of opportunity. During the long nights sitting with Jessamine by the bar, Vincent hadn’t failed to notice the lustful gazes of the patrons. Their eyes, wide with desire, followed Jessamine’s every move. Rather than feeling the insecurity of a jealous lover, Vincent was struck by a glorious epiphany, one that could increase his already vast wealth.
Vincent took his time in laying the foundations of his treacherous scheme. He enticed Jessamine with sweet words, flowers, rich trinkets and promises of impending marriage and children. Once Jessamine was at his mercy, Vincent introduced her to the wealthiest and most impatient of his patrons. His assurances to Jessamine spoke of monogamy and sacrifice that would bind them together for all time. If this had been the beginning of their relationship then Jessamine would have refused Vincent’s proposal and walked away; however, by this point her heart beat to the same rhythm as Vincent’s and to leave now was simply unthinkable. So Jessamine submitted body but not soul to the eager patrons, all the time thinking of Vincent’s reassurances that they would one day be married.
Jessamine’s new life as a prostitute of the White Oak brought fame and wealth. The mysterious and shy girl Vincent had first brought to the inn became spellbound by the power of her own intoxicating femininity. As her confidence grew Jessamine learned to dominate the room, giving equal attention to each patron before choosing to share her bed with the highest bidder. Vincent remained in the background and watched the patrons – old and young – offer money and fabulous gifts for just one night with Jessamine. The partnership was perfect. Jessamine would earn a fortune by day but at the end of the night would sleep in Vincent’s richly adorned arms.
When Jessamine passed her first year at the White Oak she saw a sudden change in Vincent. His greed, seldom constrained, was now unleashed in all its ferocity. Jessamine began entertaining patrons day and night to line Vincent’s already bulging pockets. Their nights of tender lovemaking and untarnished promises of marriage were forgotten. Jessamine, believing it to just be a phase Vincent was going through, worked even harder to please the patrons and win back the adoration of the one man she loved.
As the months passed Vincent did notice Jessamine’s efforts but only in the form of the increased income the White Oak now enjoyed. He still refused to come to her bed at night but by day would melt her heart with a brief smile or slight nod. For a time such acknowledgements were all Jessamine needed to get through the day, however, the moment she discovered she was pregnant everything changed completely.

Watch the Trailer

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Fezariu’s Epiphany Book Publicity Tour Schedule

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Monday, September 5

Guest Blogging at Booked Up

Tuesday, September 6

Interviewed at Review From Here

Wednesday, September 7

Guest Blogging at Literal Exposure

Thursday, September 8

Interviewed at Broowaha

Friday, September 9

Interviewed at Pump Up Your Book

Monday, September 12

Book Reviewed at Reader’s Refuge

Wednesday, September 14

Guest Blogging at Reader’s Refuge

Thursday, September 15

Interviewed at American Chronicle

Friday, September 16

Interviewed at Examiner

Monday, September 19

Interviewed at Booked Up

Tuesday, September 20

Guest Blogging at Psychotic State

Wednesday, September 21

Guest Blogging at Literarily Speaking

Thursday, September 22

Interviewed at As the Pages Turn

Friday, September 23

Guest Blogging at Open Salon

Monday, September 26

Interviewed at Divine Caroline

Wednesday, September 28

Guest Blogging at Allvoices

Monday, October 3

Guest Blogging at Blogher

Tuesday, October 4

Guest Blogging at Digital Journal

Thursday, October 6

Guest Blogging at The Book Bin

Monday, October 10

Guest Blogging at A Cozy Reader’s Corner Reviews

Tuesday, October 11

Interviewed at Shine

Thursday, October 13

Book Reviewed at The Literary Gothamite

Monday, October 17

Book Reviewed at Jenaissance

Tuesday, October 18

Interviewed at Jenaissance

Wednesday, October 19

Guest Blogging at Jenaissance

Thursday, October 20

Book Excerpt at Between the Covers

Friday, October 21

Interviewed at Beyond the Books

Monday, October 24

Book Reviewed at One Day at a Time

Tuesday, October 25

Interviewed at The Writer’s Life

Thursday, October 27

Interviewed at Associated Content

Guest Blogging at The Story Behind the Book

Friday, October 28

Guest Blogging at Feeling a Draft


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David Brown’s FEZARIU’S EPIPHANY VIRTUAL BOOK PUBLICITY TOUR will officially begin on September 5 and end on October 28 ’11. Please contact Tracee Gleichner at tgleichner(at)live.com if you are interested in hosting and/or reviewing his book or click here to use the form. Thank you!

If you would like to book your own virtual book tour with us, click here to find out how!

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