Introducción al ecomunitarismo y a la educación ambiental pdf book download

Introducción al ecomunitarismo y a la educación ambiental. 

Una lectura chilena de la obra de Sirio López Velasco

Homenaje

José de la Fuente Arancibia y Ricardo Salas Astraín

Editores.

(✍️ This article is collected from this book 📚 (All Credit To Go Real Hero The Author of this book 📖) 🙏 Please buy this book hardcopy from anyway.)

IN THIS BOOK__________________________________

Betrayed and left for dead, rage is the only force keeping Janis alive. Rage at the enemies who slaughtered his family, at the wizard who sold them out, but most of all at himself for letting it happen.

Yet now it's too late to do anything about it.

His body spasms. His memories leak away. In his final moments, a presence approaches him. Alien but powerful, driven by a hunger he's never known. "Give me life within you," the nameless one offers, "and I will give you your vengeance."

Janis will go from prince assassin to fugitive sorcerer as he hunts the people who killed his family. He'll battle mercenaries, cultists, gods and wizards in a magic devastated world as he unravels a conspiracy that goes far beyond the treachery of one wizard.

He fuels his success with a diabolical power that will force him to ask what he sold his soul to, and to wonder what it really wants.

All he knows for sure is that there’s no going back.

Vengeance is only the beginning.

FRONT PAFE OF THIS BOOK____________________________

THE HUNT

PAIN.

EACH SENSE probed by a hot iron. Flashes of insight: the smell of incense;

coarse hands massaging ointment into his skin; the wind catching an open tent

door; the sound of hushed voices.

He woke up. The pain was less. Was he dead again? On opening his eyes

could make out the flickering interior of a medium-sized tent. One candle in the

center cast an orange glow that threw shadows dancing along the walls. He lay

there for some time, his mind drifting as he cataloged recent events as best he

could. Had it all really happened? It was the conversation with Renea that made

it all real. She was still alive. Had traversed the Shimmer to speak to him in his

dreams and warn him off. Protect him. She should have known better.

The tent flap opened. A man entered. He wore a dusty turban and loosefitting tunic with pants, cut in the traditional Uma way. A gypsy of the traveling

caravans had found him, probably while plundering the corpses. Janis had an

urge to feel disgusted, and yet he didn’t.

“You’re awake,” the man said in a thick accent. Janis nodded. He approached

a small basin at the end of the bed. The tent was plush for something always on

the move. An ornate samovar stood on a stand by the door. The Uma dunked his

hand into the basin and pulled out a sopping sponge. He walked to the edge of

the bed, regarding Janis with deep brown eyes.

“You’ve had a fever. I want to wipe the sweat away, that’s all.”

Janis nodded. The sponge was immediately soothing against his forehead. He

realized how thirsty he was.

“Water to drink?” the man asked. Janis nodded. The Uma returned with a

small glass bottle. Janis sucked it down in a few gulps. “When we found you, I

was sure you were dead. Imagine my surprise when I rolled you onto your

back.”

Janis inhaled air with a sharp gasp and looked down at his chest. The

symbiote was pulsating in sync with his heartbeat. He lowered the bottle and

took a deep breath. The man watched him. “You have nothing to fear from me.

I’m in your debt.”

The man pulled a small stool from under the bed and sat on it. “We must all

deal with them.”

Janis considered defending himself, then thought better of it. “Why help me

then?”

“You are Janis, third son of House Aphora,” the man said, his eyes filled

with sorrow. “To some, that would be a reason to kill you. But your House was

always honest with me, and I’ve profited from your dominance in J’Soon.” Janis

held his gaze. “The Arawat have a long memory, and we still serve one who is

your master.”

The Arawat… his stomach churned at the name. He remembered the man in

the golden robe. “You don’t remember, do you?” Janis shook his head. “It

happens to those who cross the Veil, as you have. Some bits of yourself might

return with time, if you look inward. If you can stand to be honest with

yourself.” The Uma pulled a scroll from his belt and handed it to Janis. Janis’s

hand trembled as he grasped and unfurled it.

The man stood up. “I’ll give you some privacy,” he said.

“No,” Janis replied. “Please, stay.” The man regarded him, then sat back

down. The letter was written in some kind of code, but Janis found he could

understand it.

Shadowstalker Aphora,

If you’ve gotten this letter, then Eli has found you. He’s been an agent of

mine among the Uma for many years. You can trust him. I don’t know what

you’ll remember on waking. Know that your family is dead, betrayed by Orinax

for something in their possession. I’m trying to discover what. There is nothing I

could do except have Eli look for you. As of this writing, the Arawat already

suspect you’re alive. They have put a high bounty on your head. Do not return to

J’Soon. Make your way to B’lac. Forces Orinax allied with are based there. A

cult. I will know more when I meet you. Wait for me at the tavern.

Trust no one.

May the Shadows keep you,

Brethor, Shadowmaster

Janis exhaled. A cocktail of regret, rage, and betrayal swelled in him. He relived

his family’s fate. Could feel the flames on his skin. His hands trembled. Who

was this Brethor? A single image popped into his mind: a somber man with light.

Janis’s master. He’d been an assassin. A spy. Was that this man’s doing? “Where

is B’lac?”

“A couple days’ journey north, along the southern tip of the Pikean Peaks,”

Eli said.

“You didn’t read this letter?”

Eli shook his head. “I know only that I was to find you and, were I able, to

help you get to where Brethor would meet you.”

“You… know him, then?” He nodded once. “And you knew my family?”

“In a way,” he replied. Janis tried to stand, but the man held out his arm.

“Not yet. You’ll need another day to recuperate.”

“How long have I been out?” Janis finished standing, his head swimming. He

toppled, but caught himself.

“Three days,” the man said. “You are too tired. Brethor would want you to

rest.”

Janis sighed. “Your name is Eli?” he whispered.

“Elisham, but you may call me Eli.”

“I don’t have another day. These… Arawat. They’ll be after me. I need a

horse and enough food to get there.”

“You’ll need more if you hope to avoid the bounty hunters.”

“I’ll move faster alone.”

“You’re in no condition, and the Waste is merciless.” He walked to a nearby

rack and grabbed a pitch-black robe from it.

Janis took the robe and put it on. It had many folds, with a simple rope to tie

it around the waist. Despite its thickness, it was also breathable and light in the

Uma way. Janis checked a weight in the pockets. There were even a few specs

inside.

“Someday I’ll repay my debt to you. I swear it.”

Eli nodded. “I serve your master. There is nothing to repay. Except…”

“Ask.”

“We were to find Janis Aphora, Shadowstalker. Not a mage.”

“You’ve found Janis the survivor,” he replied. Eli looked unconvinced. “It’s

not my master, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“We Uma do not know these gods as you do. They are creatures of death

given life. We do not trust them. None in the Waste do.”

“You have nothing to fear from me.”

Eli sighed. “You must hide this about yourself if you’re to survive and meet

our master.”

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