JANUARY 2012 - ASSASSIN'S CURSE, Book 1 in The Witch Stone Prophecy series:
The Prophecy of the Witch Stone
From the line of power twice born
To the power born twice
Shall arise the seekers of the Stone.
Look for the sign of the witch in two joined
For they shall be the saviors
Who shall grasp the power from darkness
And bring it into the light
For when the flower blossoms
Then will be the time
For their powers shall be twined within a single aspect
And stand balanced on the sword’s edge of good and evil.
False guidance shall lead to the path of doom
And will spell destruction of all
That they were brought about to save.***
Mave saw the boy look his way and inwardly smiled. He knew the boy was scared, and rightly so. It was not chance that brought him here today, but a carefully orchestrated scheme to make sure he tested the boy. He felt Jeda was no more than a third-year upstart who did not deserve the opportunity to test for apprenticeship. Most novices trained for five or six years before petitioning to test. Mave was going to make sure that the boy did not pass. That was as it should be, for it was Mave who had brought Jeda to the guild in the first place. He should be the one to put the boy in his place and teach him humility.
Jeda finally reached up and took a pair of fighting knives off the wall.
Mave shook his head at the boy’s choice. I knew it. The boy may know how to fight, but he knows nothing of winning.
“Begin,” said the dispassionate voice of the master-in-attendance judging the test.
Mave strode forward, closing the distance and eliminating the only advantage knives would give the boy. Without the distance to throw them, they were completely useless against swords.
The boy stood stock-still, visibly trembling as Mave approached. His frozen fear was pathetic and almost embarrassing. Mave would cut him slightly with his first blade and knock him out with the handle of his second, putting a quick end to this charade of a test. Twirling his swords in a deadly dance, Mave felt no sympathy for the boy. Today’s failure would set Jeda back at least a year and give him more time to learn proper respect and modesty, traits Mave felt he was sorely lacking.
The young fool doesn’t know what he’s in for.
As Mave swung the first blade to catch the boy across the cheek, something unexpected happened. Jeda dove forward, under the first blade, and whipped one of his knives at Mave’s exposed side. Mave deflected the throw with his second sword. If he had not been such an excellent swordsman, the throw would have a scored a hit.
Maybe not quite the fool I took him for. Mave spun around swinging the sword in a deadly arc to face the boy as Jeda jumped to his feet. The swing cut the boy high on the arm and he cried out in shock and pain. The cut was deep and bleeding heavily, rendering the arm useless. The boy went down on one knee, but Mave moved cautiously forward. He would not be caught off-guard a second time by the boy’s cleverness. When Mave came within a sword’s reach of him, the boy jumped forward into a diving roll and threw his second, remaining knife. Mave anticipated the move and easily deflected the throw, shaking his head at the boy’s stupidity in throwing away his last means of defense. As he turned to face Jeda, he realized his mistake. He felt a blade slice through his trousers, burning and drawing a bright-crimson line along his leg. Jeda had used the second throw to distract Mave from his true objective: the first blade that Mave had deflected. The boy had used his diving roll to reach that first blade, left forgotten on the floor.
How did he get that knife so quickly and throw it so precisely? Mave wondered, looking down at his bleeding leg.
“Enough. Blood has been drawn by Novice Jeda,” said the master’s voice from the balcony. “He is elevated to the rank of apprentice.”
Mave studied Jeda with a smoldering anger. He was a good fifteen feet away and was wobbling on his feet from loss of blood. It didn’t seem possible that he could have thrown that knife in his condition. Mave knew the boy must have somehow cheated.
This is not over; no one makes a fool of me. ***
JULY 2011 - ZIA'S PATH: This story is our third in our Dark Future series and is the sequel to THE RIGHT PATH.
Book blurb:
In this novelette about crippled teenager, Abraham "Ham" Jones, and his tomboy partner, Zia Slate, the stakes are even higher. They have agreed to accept the memory weapons from their new guardian, Henry Lloyd, but with the power of the weapons comes the responsibility to follow "the right path." It's supposed to be simple: help one person at a time, but nothing in this harsh world is ever simple. It's a dog-eat-dog world where food is scarce and gangs rule the streets.
When Ham decides to go into the worst gang-ridden area of the city to save a little girl, Zia doesn't think it's a good idea. It's too dangerous, but eventually she agrees and the two set off in search of the girl. When Zia goes off to scout ahead, Ham's worst nightmare comes true. Zia is snatched by slavers. Can Ham find out where she has been taken and mount a defense to save her in two days before she is sold as a sex slave?
Excerpt:
Damn. It happened so fast! I didn’t think anyone could sneak up on me like that. ‘Course I was lookin’ for that kid, the one Ham wanted to save, but I heard that goon one second too late. He grabbed my arm, threw me to the ground and put a knee in my back while he tied my hands together with a rough rope.
Book blurb:
In this novelette about crippled teenager, Abraham "Ham" Jones, and his tomboy partner, Zia Slate, the stakes are even higher. They have agreed to accept the memory weapons from their new guardian, Henry Lloyd, but with the power of the weapons comes the responsibility to follow "the right path." It's supposed to be simple: help one person at a time, but nothing in this harsh world is ever simple. It's a dog-eat-dog world where food is scarce and gangs rule the streets.
When Ham decides to go into the worst gang-ridden area of the city to save a little girl, Zia doesn't think it's a good idea. It's too dangerous, but eventually she agrees and the two set off in search of the girl. When Zia goes off to scout ahead, Ham's worst nightmare comes true. Zia is snatched by slavers. Can Ham find out where she has been taken and mount a defense to save her in two days before she is sold as a sex slave?
Excerpt:
Damn. It happened so fast! I didn’t think anyone could sneak up on me like that. ‘Course I was lookin’ for that kid, the one Ham wanted to save, but I heard that goon one second too late. He grabbed my arm, threw me to the ground and put a knee in my back while he tied my hands together with a rough rope.
“Get the hell off me,” I said, grunting through the pain of being slammed onto the concrete.
“Shut your stinking mouth,” the big a-hole replied. He threw a bag over my head and dragged me to my feet.
I tried to scream, but he smacked me upside my head.
“That’s your last warning, sweet cheeks. Another sound outta you and I’ll slice yer throat. Leave ya dead in the streets. Maybe your boyfriend can find you then.”
Boyfriend? Does he mean Ham? This goon must have seen him. Ham, are you close? I need you.
The guy threw me in the back of some kind of van. I heard others inside, but I was too scared to say anything. That threat was too fresh in my mind. The thought of ending up dead in the gutter was something I didn’t want to think about. I’ve seen the bodies, dead in the streets. They get puffy and smell like rotten meat. After a couple days, you can’t even recognize them anymore. I didn’t want to end up like that, so I just shut my mouth. Ham would find me; I just knew it.
That’s when the van started moving.
I was so scared I thought I was gonna pee myself. The only thing that stopped me was that when Ham rescued me, he would laugh. I know exactly what he would say.
“You were so scared, you peed yourself.” He would laugh and laugh and never let it go. I held on to the sound of his laughter. I wouldn’t let this get to me, but who’d grabbed me? I had a couple ideas, but each one was worse than the one before. Another gang? Was someone after my knives? I’m nobody. Why bother with me?
I heard another girl crying beside me, so I scooted over until I bumped into her. She jumped and squeaked like a mouse, but no one came back and hit us so I figured we must be alone.
“Who got us?” I whispered.
The stupid girl started crying louder and harder, and I just knew someone would hear her soon. “Hey, shut the hell up before they come and beat us.”
That did it; she quieted right down. She must have already got her share of being smacked around, so I asked her again: “Who got us?”
“Slavers…” was the only word that escaped between sobs.
“Crap!” I inhaled sharply. Slavers took girls off the street to sell as sex slaves. I was in deep shit. Why me? I looked like a thirteen-year-old boy, for God’s sake. I had no soft curves or even boobs, yet. I didn’t even have my hair down today. Maybe they would realize when they looked me over that they’d made a mistake. Maybe they would just let me go.
Yeah, right. That’s about the time I really started to worry. Ham wouldn’t have any idea who snatched me or where I was taken. Who was left to save me?
The ride didn’t take long and, before I knew it, I was being dragged out of the van. Being blindfolded was the worst part. I had to wait until they took the hood off before I could see where I was or who had grabbed me.
“Oh, look what we have here,” the first voice said. I felt my knife being pulled out of my waistband. “You won’t need this where you’re going.”
“Let me see that knife,” a second voice said.
“Hey, I found it first. It’s mine.”
Then I heard a smack and a muffled cry.
“It’s mine now, a-hole; get these girls inside.”
I wisely kept my mouth shut during that little scuffle. I didn’t want them to see what kind of knife it really was or what it could do. Old Henry said memory weapons were rare and real expensive. Maybe if I could escape, I could get the knife back. Crap! Henry is going to be mad that I’ve lost it already. Today is definitely not turning out as we planned.
I silently cursed, knowing I should have waited for Ham to catch up to me. I shouldn’t have gone so far ahead looking for that little girl. I still don’t understand why she is so important to him. There are lots of lost kids out there that we could have helped today.
Rough hands grabbed my arm and yanked me forward. I heard a door creak open and I was pulled through. That’s when I heard it--crying, and lots of it. This new place smelled like old sweat and piss. It was so disgusting that I had to breathe through my mouth so I wouldn’t smell it. Last thing I wanted was to gag and puke inside this hood on my head.
The bag was finally pulled off. I was smashed up against a steel cage while my jailer took the opportunity to feel me up. I couldn’t help it; I flinched when he lifted up my shirt. His calloused hands were rough against my skin, and when he pinched my nipples hard, I cried out. I felt the tears come and I blinked furiously trying to clear my eyes.
“Well, well, well, looks like we got ourselves a virgie, boys,” he laughed, speaking to the other two men standing by the door. “This one is gonna require special handling. Go tell the boss what we got.”
Holy crap, I’m screwed.
Sample Sunday, January 9, 2011
Amazon buy link: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B003CC1KI4
Chapter 11 – Eclasius
Eclasius Jortac stood on the parade grounds replaying the events of yesterday’s graduation in his mind. He had fervently hoped that graduating with top honors from the prestigious Otharian Institute would be the catalyst to rebuild his relationship with his father. He naively thought his father would be proud of him.
No such luck.
His only pleasant memory of the day was seeing his mother’s smile after the ceremony. She was proud of him although she’d never speak her mind openly, especially not in front of his father. Just as well, Eclasius thought, he didn’t want his mother to bear the brunt of his father’s brutal temper because of something he did.
Eclasius fought hard to convince himself that his father’s words didn’t matter, but the sunken feeling in the pit of his stomach told a different story.
Throughout his young life, he’d tried hard to live up to his father’s expectations. Unfortunately, nothing he did was ever good enough. Yesterday, when his father said he was disappointed because Eclasius had not made the ‘right connections’ while in school, he bore the criticism silently. It was merely the latest in a string of criticisms and insults that the elder Jortac barraged his son with.
Eclasius kicked the dirt in frustration.
“The right connections? What does that mean? He can’t expect me to be friends with those Dalcon idiots.”
In his mind’s eye, he saw the scene unfold. His father’s tirade, watching him stride off the field without a backward glance for his son, storming through life with his mother following close behind like a small bird caught in the wake of a fierce wind. He thought of answers after his father had left him, but it did little good now. He secretly feared his father was right and he would never measure up to the expectations of a Jortac heir.
Eclasius looked up and spied the Telkur twins approaching from the dormitories. He was puzzled why these two would be here today. Like everyone at graduation yesterday, he’d heard the tragic news of the Persing murders and thought they’d be in mourning. Eclasius looked at the twins suspiciously. What could they possibly want from him?
Damn, I don’t need this today.
The perfect Telkur twins, the duo that excelled at everything. He wanted to walk away, but seeing Dyla coming towards him held him in check. She was a devastating beauty and he didn’t want to give up an opportunity to talk to her one last time. He doubted that he would see her again anytime soon.
He liked her and had tried numerous times to talk to her during their school years, but the right time never seemed to present itself. She seemed to have an impenetrable wall surrounding her. Her biting wit and icy veneer made even casual conversation difficult. Of course, her brother didn’t help matters, always hovering nearby, whenever Eclasius found himself lucky enough to be alone with her.
Eclasius had met the twins through Ty. Ty’s acknowledgement of his telekinetic power had brought about a certain level of trust in Eclasius and that trust blossomed into a friendship between the two young men. It was during one those telekinetic practice sessions that Eclasius had met the twins.
From that first moment, all Eclasius could concentrate on was Dyla in her form-fitting training attire. Even though Dyla tried hard to downplay her beauty, it only served to make her more attractive. He was still looking at Dyla when Ty introduced him to Darius. As Darius shook his hand, the handshake turned into a vice grip and Darius’s expression changed. Eclasius quickly backed away from him, not realizing what had happened.
It wasn’t until later that Eclasius learned Darius was a telepath. He guessed that Darius had read his thoughts during their brief handshake and, with Eclasius engrossed in his sister’s form, it was no wonder that Darius had turned sour towards him. He often wondered how much of his thoughts Darius had read while he was admiring Dyla. Neither Ty nor Dyla had seen the exchange; both were occupied in their own conversation.
From that auspicious beginning, Darius had a knack of interrupting Dyla and him at the worst possible moment, usually when he had finally built up enough confidence to carry the conversation beyond talks of schoolwork.
Looking at Dyla walking towards him, Eclasius again felt the pull of her allure, but quickly dispelled the feeling as her brother approached. He worked hard at concealing his feelings towards Dyla whenever Darius was around.
Eclasius took a deep breath, clearing his mind of Dyla and pushing away the lingering thoughts of his father. He would come to grips with those feeling later, when he was alone, as he always did.
The twins were nearly upon him. Dyla’s dazzling smile captivated his attention and it was for her alone that he didn’t simply walk away from the pair.
“Hi Eclasius,” Dyla said. “Do you have a minute to talk?”
The sound of her voice thrilled him and his heart started to race.
“Hmmm, sure. What can I do for you?”
“We have a problem, and I think you can help us.”
Darius stepped between the two.
“Yeah, Eclair, maybe you can help us.”
Darius’s arrogance was too much for him to bear today and he turned towards Darius, refusing to step back. Eclasius felt his power flair and the air around them suddenly crackled with his simmering power.
“Back off, Darius, we’re not in school anymore. Do you really want to antagonize the top graduated telekinetic? You’d be truly surprised at what I can do.”
Darius raised his hands in mock surrender and stepped back beside his sister.
“Calm down, calm down. I’m not here to argue with you today.”
As quickly as Eclasius’ ire surfaced, it dissipated. He looked over to Dyla and winked.
“What kind of problem do you have?” Eclasius asked Dyla, purposely ignoring Darius.
“We need a third for our team, a telekinetic, and we’re thinking of you.”
Eclasius opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He stared incredulously at Dyla and then at Darius. It took him a few moments before he could gather his wits and answer the question.
“Your team? You mean for the Grand Competition? I heard about Ty’s family tragedy, but I figured you two would drop out.”
“Yes, we thought the same thing until a few hours ago,” Dyla said.
“What do you say? Yes or no,” Darius asked impatiently.
Eclasius’ head swiveled back and forth between the twins. Their question was so unexpected, his mind was reeling from it.
“I don’t know what to say. The Grand Competition is pretty heady stuff. People have gotten killed competing.”
“People get killed if they are careless. We are not careless and we need a telekinetic if we want to compete. You’re the best telekinetic in the school. We can’t have Ty, so we want you.”
Eclasius saw Dyla cringe at her brother’s bluntness.
“Eclasius, what my brother said is true. Of course, we want Ty. We’ve trained hard together, and we make a good team. But, with this tragedy, he won’t be able to compete and we don’t want to quit. We need a telekinetic, and we both think that you could help us win the competition.”
Eclasius stood mesmerized by Dyla. This was the longest conversation he’d ever had with her in all the years of advanced training.
“Why stay in the competition now? Why not wait until the next one when Ty can rejoin the team,” he asked.
“Because we have to do it now,” Darius growled.
Eclasius was stumped by Darius’s answer, but thought better about further probing on the subject.
“You’ll have to come to our estates to train and learn to move with us as a team. It’ll definitely not be a walk in the park,” Dyla explained.
“I want to think about it,” Eclasius said flatly.
“What’s there to think about? You’re either in or out,” Darius shouted. “We don’t have time to waste. We need someone now. We have two weeks to train and every minute we stand talking about it is wasted. Come on, Dyla, I told you this wouldn’t work.”
Dyla didn’t move.
“How long do you need?”
“I need a day. I’ll give you my answer tomorrow.”
Dyla smiled.
“Fine. By the way Eclasius, you realize that your name is a mouthful. If you decide to join the team, what should we call you?”
“Uh, I guess, Eclair will do,” he said with a shy smile.
“Eclair, it is. See you soon,” Dyla said, grabbing her brother’s arm and pulling him away.
Darius let Dyla pull him away. Dyla’s contact with Darius elicited a stream of chaotic thoughts between them. Dyla’s thoughts were too fast and fleeting for Darius to make much sense of, but he did get an underlying sense of confidence from her. They were half way across the parade grounds when Darius finally looked back at Eclasius. He was still standing there watching them leave and Darius turned back to confront his sister.
“What’s that all about? If he doesn’t show, we’re screwed! It’ll be another day lost and we’ll still have to find another damn spoon bender.”
“Don’t worry Darius, he’ll show. He wants to do this. I felt it in him.”
“I hope you’re right. I wonder why he needs a day, though. Don’t you find that odd?”
“I don’t know, but I’m sure he has a good reason.”
“Then let the waiting begin,” Darius said.
***
SAMPLE SUNDAY, December 26, 2010
This chapter is from THE CRYSTAL FACADE. The chapter is about Eclasius Jortac, a powerful telekinetic, and his first day at the Otharian Institute for Paranormal Studies.
Chapter 2 - Eclair’s First Day
Eclair Jortac sat down at the desk in the front of the classroom facing his students. It was his first day with this group of advanced telekinetics and he felt like the new kid in school. He had thoroughly enjoyed teaching the younger students for the past six months. They had responded well to him and loved his quirky ways. This class would be different. These students would not be so easily impressed with him especially since he was only a few years older than most of them.
Eclair Jortac sat down at the desk in the front of the classroom facing his students. It was his first day with this group of advanced telekinetics and he felt like the new kid in school. He had thoroughly enjoyed teaching the younger students for the past six months. They had responded well to him and loved his quirky ways. This class would be different. These students would not be so easily impressed with him especially since he was only a few years older than most of them.
All right, I’m the teacher. If anyone should be nervous, it’s these kids, not me.
Eclair’s eyes swept the room.
“Good morning. My name is Eclasius Jortac. I’ll be your teacher for this class on advanced telekinetics.”
In the back of the class, he heard a pair of students snicker.
“I heard they used to call him Eclair, like the pastry.”
“Yeah, cause he’s soft and gooey.”
The two had pitched their voices loud enough for everyone to hear. Smothered laughter erupted throughout the class. Another time and place, Eclair would have turned beat red and quietly taken the jeering, another time, another place, and definitely, another Eclair.
He had been warned by the chancellor about these two students--a pair of bullies, physically powerful and fairly decent telekinetics. They were of the house of Vogdo and were second-generation nephews of the Grand Duke. Their previous instructors had given them ample liberties because of that fact. No one wanted to face the displeasure of the Grand Duke of Otharia and the Institute’s number one benefactor.
Eclair stood up and walked around to the front of his desk while he continued his introduction. He concentrated slightly and the two perpetrators jerked out of their seats, standing at attention, with their arms locked to their sides, unable to move a muscle. However, they could still speak and the first one quickly voiced his displeasure.
“Hey,” the first boy yelled peevishly, struggling to no avail. “What’s going on? I can’t move.”
All eyes turned toward the back of the room.
The second boy struggled for a few moments before giving up.
“As I said, my name is Eclasius Jortac.”
“Well, my name is Vogdo,” the first boy interrupted, “and when my great uncle hears of this . . .”
The boy’s mouth slammed shut and his eyes went wide with shocked indignation.
Eclair continued talking unfazed by the boy’s interruption. The other student’s heads swiveled back and forth between their frozen classmates and their new teacher.
“You may call me Sir or Master Jortac.”
Both boys stared at Eclair with fire in their eyes. No one else spoke, their attention was glued to the two boys held in thrall. To the ultimate surprise of the class, the two slowly elevated into the air and began to spin around in a circle.
Eclair continued talking nonchalantly.
“I want everyone to understand something as we move forward in this class. I’m the instructor and you’re the students. You’re here to learn and I’m here to teach you. Today’s lesson is on focus and the application of power.”
The two boys struggled to free themselves as they continued to rotate in front of the other students. The class soon recognized that Eclair was demonstrating two separate weaves of power on air, something none of them had seen before.
Eclair pressed his point.
“To truly understand power, one must look beyond the surface. What one perceives with one’s eyes is not necessarily the strength that is lurking beneath.”
Eclair chose his words deliberately for impact. While the students watched the spinning boys, an apple floated into the air between the two. No one had ever been able to cast a third weave of power and the students looked on in shock. Only adepts of the highest degree could cast two weaves of power and even they studied for long years to achieve it. The boys stared wide-eyed at the apple rising between them.
All those hours of training and I’m reduced to classroom theatrics, Eclair thought.
“Subtly is the secret to control,” he continued. “Understanding and applying the discrete and proper amount of power is the key to success. Apply too much power at the wrong time and disaster could result.”
Pop!
The apple didn’t quite burst apart as Eclair had expected, but pieces were still sent flying off in all directions. The two boys dropped to their seats like sacks of grain each with their share of apple bits decorating their heads. Released from their constraints, the boys sat dumbly in their seats staring at their new instructor.
Hmmm, not quite what I had expected, but it did the trick. I’ll have to work on my control a bit more.
“Now, does anyone else have any questions before I continue?”
“No, Master Jortac,” the class replied collectively.
“Excellent. Let’s move on to our next topic.”
***
Sample Sunday, THE RIGHT PATH
The sunset cast a surreal light over the city, hiding most of the visible scars and masking the violence that permeated daily life. Most, but not all. Partially collapsed and burnt-out husks, harsh reminders of the Great War, dotted the cityscape and no amount of darkness could hide devastation of that magnitude.
The old man stood on a rooftop looking over the gray and ravaged city. He’d been looking for someone to carry on his work. So far he had failed.
One mistake does not erase a lifetime of good, he thought miserably. I will find the right one.
***
I looked up to see a hand extended towards me. I followed it up to the care-lined face of an elderly man. He was old, but I swear he shone with more life than someone half his age. I hesitated before accepting his outreached hand. I had accepted help before much to my chagrin. The humanity of people was all but gone, wiped away in the disgusting displays of greed and avarice that was pervasive in most aspects of life in this dismal city. In my fifteen years of life, I learned that it was a dog eat dog world out there.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” the old man said. “Only offering a helping hand.”
“Why?”
“Helping you is simply my way of helping me.”
“What?”
“Take my hand and I’ll tell you about it.”
Seeing nothing to lose, I let the old man help me up. I’d been beaten and robbed sometime in the last few hours. It was hard to tell how long I had lain in the street, because my head was a bloody mass of hurt. I half-heartedly brushed some of the dirt off my clothes and noticed a new rip in my pants at the knee. I hopped on my good leg trying to keep my balance while I looked for my crutch.
“That’s mine over there,” I said, pointing to the crutch lying in a puddle of filthy water.
“I have something better than that,” the old man said, turning and rooting around in the shopping cart he’d been pushing along the street.
He turned back to me with a cane in his hand. It was gleaming wood with carvings along its length capped with a small silver-looking fist. I didn’t recognize any of the words or pictograms. Didn’t matter much, I figured I could sell it after the old man left me. Food was scarce and I’d hobble along a lot better on a full stomach.
“Thanks, but why are you giving this to me?” I asked, taking the cane from him. “What do you want?”
The old man looked me up and down and laughed.
“Boy, what’s a scrub like you possibly have that I’d want?”
“I don’t know, but everyone wants something.”
“You’ve already given me what I was looking for.”
I took a step back, glancing left and right.
“Don’t get all riled now. I simply meant that you allowed me the chance to help you out, even if it was only to get you on your feet.”
“What are you talking about? You crazy or something?”
“I’m talking about giving back, learning what it means to be truly alive. You can only experience life to its fullest by extending a helping hand.”
“Yeah, sure and then watch as it gets bitten off.”
“Yes, sometimes that happens, but when a gesture of help is accepted for what it is, then you learn what life is all about and you can pass that learning on.”
I rolled my eyes at the crazy old coot. He must have escaped from the psycho ward. From what I knew of people, they didn’t want a helping hand, they wanted what you had and you had better learn how to fight to keep what was yours. That’s what I’d learned of life in the streets.
I looked at his cart crammed full of junk wondering how long it would be before someone hit him on the head and robbed him blind. They had robbed me for nothing more than the few scraps of food I had begged for earlier in the day.
The old man turned and began to push his cart down the street.
“Wait, that’s it? You don’t want nothing for this cane?”
“Nope, it’s yours. Use it well.”
I watched him shuffle down the street. A little further along, he stopped and spoke to another drifter. Within moments, he shook his head, said a few more words, and kept moving down the street.
The squeal of brakes caught my attention and made me look past the old man to the street corner. A girl was being tossed out of sleek black car. I should have turned and walked the other way leaving the little twerp to her own fate, but I have a perverse sense of curiosity. I watched in morbid fascination.
The girl tumbled head over heels before coming to a painful stop on the uneven pavement. Her face looked bruised and her lip was bleeding.
“Next time, don’t be so stupid. You’re lucky that’s all I did to you,” a man said from inside the car before it sped away.
I saw her wipe her lip with her sleeve and stomp her foot in anger. I knew a system cop car when I saw it and I guessed she had been soliciting sex for food. Didn’t look like she would eat tonight. Most men liked softness and curves and she was angles and tomboy muscles.
The old man approached her.
“Can I help you up Miss?”
The girl jumped to her feet, pulling a stubby knife from her waistband.
“Stay away from me or I’ll slice you up good,” she said holding the knife up in front of her..
The old man laughed.
“Don’t think you’ll be doing much slicing with that puny blade.”
It looked like she was having the same trust issues I had earlier. She took two steps closer and held the blade up closer to him.
“Want to try your luck, old man?”
“I only wanted to help you to your feet. No need to spill my blood over a kindness.”
She hesitated before lowering the blade.
“Kindness will get you killed old man.”
“That may be so, but kindness can also change the world.”
It was the girl’s turn to laugh. It’s been a long time since I’ve heard anyone laugh like that and I grinned in spite of myself.
“You’re crazy. You’d best be careful who you try to help next time or you’ll feel a blade slice through your neck.”
She turned and started to walk away from the old man.
“Wait. I have something for you.”
“Don’t want nothing from you.”
“You might want this.”
I was shocked to see the old man holding a knife in his hand. Where did he get this stuff? The girl was looking over her shoulder at him. He pulled the knife out of its sheath. The blade shimmered in the light and she walked back to him.
The old man pushed the knife back into the sheath and held it out to her. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. My inner voice screamed that this couldn’t be good. No one ever gave anyone a break in this city and they certainly didn’t give away a valuable weapon without strings, but I couldn’t turn away.
“What’s your game old man?” she asked.
“No game, just want to help. Here, the blade is yours.”
“What do you want for it? Sex?”
“Nothing, Miss. Thought you might need better protection, that’s all. Here, take it.”
I inhaled sharply waiting to see what she would do. In the next instant, she snatched the blade from the old man’s outstretched hand.
“Good. Now you can take care of yourself,” he said.
He gave her a wink before turning away pushing his cart full of odds and ends down the street.
I was flabbergasted. The old man helped the little twerp, like he helped me. I began to wonder what he was up to. Maybe he was being nice cause he was playing some kind of twisted game.
Be nice, smile, help them, and then crush them like bugs.
Well, I was born on a weekend, but it wasn’t this weekend.
I took one final glance and found myself staring into the little twerp’s eyes. She was sort of pretty with pale eyes and shoulder length brown hair, but I’d had enough trouble for one day, so I turned and hobbled away. She would have to learn to survive like the rest of us. Beg, borrow or steal, that’s the motto on the street if you want to eat.
***
Sample Sunday, March 6, 2011
Sample Sunday, March 6, 2011
Today's Sample Sunday excerpt has Darius talking to his cousin Ty about the dangerous trip to Earth that his sister, Dyla, is determined to go on. Her plans of taking Eclair with her instead Darius has Ty extremely worried.
Chapter 5 – Divided Paths
The sun was touching the western horizon when Ty walked into Darius’ private study.
Chapter 5 – Divided Paths
The sun was touching the western horizon when Ty walked into Darius’ private study.
“Hey Ty. How’d you get away this time?” Daruis asked. “This is the second time in two days your councilors have released you from their grasps.”
Ty plopped himself down in one of the over stuffed chairs before answering.
“Really, do you think anyone can tell me what to do?”
“As a matter of fact, yes.”
Ty shrugged.
“You’re right. I told my councilors that I was coming to see Trinity. That’s the only way I got out of there. There was another stack of petitions that needed my attention, but I’ll deal with those later. My councilors are great, but they’re relentless. Some days I don’t know how they do it.”
“I know. Running a duchy is much harder than I thought. My father made it look effortless.”
“I guess we both should have paid more attention during those lessons.”
“You’re probably right.”
Both young men lapsed into quiet contemplation at the mention of their fathers, each lost in their own thoughts. It was Darius who first broke the silence.
“Trinity should be off duty soon. You’re welcome to sit here until she comes back.”
“Thanks. Most generous of you cousin,” Ty chuckled. “But seriously, while we wait for Trinity, I want to talk to you about this trip to Earth.”
“So do I,” Darius said, his demeanor changing.
Ty leaned forward.
“I’m deeply concerned about these three going back to Earth alone. It was bad enough when you were with them, but without you? I don’t know. I have grave reservations.”
“I understand, but I can assure that they could have no greater protection than Eclair.”
“Eclair?” Ty scoffed. “Darius please, Eclair’s my friend too and I know about his trick of bending light, but we’re talking about their very lives being at stake. It’ll be incredibly dangerous for them. This Blackheart guy will be on the lookout for them this time.”
“I know, but I stand by what I said. Eclair is the one to pull it off.”
“How can you be so confident?”
“Ty, you haven’t seen Eclair in tight situations like I have. He’s no longer the pushover you knew in school. He’s powerful beyond all reckoning. I don’t think even he knows the depth of his power. Gods help us all if he ever turned evil. There would be no stopping him.”
“I’m sorry, I just don’t see him that way. I’ve known Eclair too long to have that level of confidence in him.”
Suddenly, Ty felt a tightening around his arms. It quickly spread over his entire body until he was completely paralyzed. Within seconds, he found himself rising and spinning around in mid air.
“Hey! What’s going . . .”
Ty’s voice stopped in mid-sentence.
Eclair stood in the doorway of the study, focusing on Ty, his head slightly bent as he concentrated.
Darius sat up straighter in his chair. This was a new trick that even he had not seen yet.
Dyla was standing behind Eclair. She gently touched his arm.
“Eclair, enough. I’m sure they get the point.”
Eclair looked up and flashed a boyish grin at Ty. He winked at Dyla and they both walked into the room.
“Still have no confidence in my abilities to protect the group?” Eclair asked.
He released Ty’s voice and slowly lowered him back into the chair.
“Damn you, Eclair,” Ty shouted, indignantly. “Release me at once.”
Eclair stood in front of Ty releasing the invisible bonds that held him.
“Why did you do that?”
“To convince you,” Eclair said, deadly serious.
Ty was stunned. Darius was right. Eclair was powerful beyond reckoning.
“I knew what you were doing and yet I couldn’t stop you. I’ve never felt such power.”
“You haven’t seen anything yet. Would you like to see more?”
Ty held his hands up in surrender.
“Stop. Please no more. I’m convinced.”
“Fair enough.”
Eclair gave Ty a mock bow and walked over to the empty chair next to Dyla and sat down. She reached over and gave his hand a quick squeeze.
“Pretty good, huh?” he said.
“Always.”
“All right you two, enough fun and games. We have business to discuss tonight. Let’s get to it,” Darius said trying hard not to laugh.Sunday, May 15, 2011
This excerpt for Sample Sunday is from our novelette, THE PATH TO DESTRUCTION. General Matthew Smith of the American Freedom Fighters is facing overwhelming odds as he tries to hold out against an unrelenting enemy swarming up from the south. The United States is in danger of being occupied for the first time in its history in this post-apocalyptic tale and General Smith has one last desperate trick up his sleeve.
The sun was barely rising when I heard the noise coming from outside the front of my office. I wondered who or what could be awake this early and got up to take a look. I opened the door and received one of the biggest shocks of my life. There in front of me was Kenzu, kneeling with his entire contingent of samurai warriors arrayed behind him. They were all kneeling in concentric ranks behind their leader, arranged according to their particular standing within the elite fighting force. It was disconcerting to see them like that, well over 250 warriors, all with downcast eyes, motionless and eerily quiet, like a powerful beast, crouched and ready to pounce on its unsuspecting prey. I stood there, mouth hanging open, hoping I wasn’t that prey.
“What’s going on?”
Kenzu slowly sat back on his heels and raised his head until our eyes met. His face looked as if it had been chiseled out of stone, eyes inscrutable as ever. He raised his arms from his lap and held out a magnificent sword for me to take. I was unsettled by this, my mind whirling with the possibilities of what Kenzu offered, none of them any good for my health or well-being. The next shock was what he actually said.
“Gomen nasai, Smith-san.”
I was even more confused than before. What the hell was he apologizing to me for? Was this some strange part of his Bushido code that said he must apologize before killing me? I wasn’t looking toward that prospect.
“Wakarimasen.”
Kenzu’s mouth tightened slightly, whether to hide a grimace or a smile, at my Japanese. I had told him I didn’t understand what he meant.
“Please, let us speak in your language. Your attempts at my language always hurt my ears. I cannot abide it today.”
His attempt at levity was a good sign. I let out a pent up breath, not realizing that I had been holding myself rigid, poised to act at the slightest provocation. Not that I would have stood much of a chance against Kenzu. He was the greatest warrior still alive in this god-forsaken war at hand-to-hand combat and sword fighting.
I had good reason for concern for my own personal safety because we had not parted on good terms the previous evening. Actually, if I remembered correctly, Kenzu had all but threatened my life before turning and storming out of the meeting hall. It took only a moment to rerun that conversation through my mind. It had been brief and altogether too ugly.
“You ask too much,” Kenzu had said last night.
“How can you say that after everything that has happened?”
“I am aware of our current situation.”
“Good, you’re aware. Then make the damn weapons.”
“It is disrespectful. It is an insult to everything I hold honorable.”
“Honor?” I said incredulously. “Take a look around, Kenzu. What good does your honor do us?”
Kenzu’s face darkened, his hands balled into fists.
“I cannot do as you ask.”
“Then you are no better than the rest of them.”
Kenzu nearly lost his composure with my last remark. His hand flashed to his katana and I thought he would draw it then and there. If that sword left its sheath, there would be blood drawn. He stopped himself, looked down as if ashamed at his loss of self-control, and released the deadly sword.
“Smith-san,’ Kenzu finally said. “It is because of our long-standing friendship that I will not act on your vile insult.”
Then he looked up and locked his piercing dark eyes on me.
“But, if we ever meet again, the outcome will be very different.”
At that, he swirled around and left the hall. The rest of his warriors, all of who had watched the exchange, left silently behind him. No one in the unit had tried to stop them.
So, it was easy to understand my initial confusion, seeing Kenzu kneeling in front of me, holding out that samurai sword. I looked at the rest of the warriors behind Kenzu and began to understand what was happening.
“You changed your mind?” I asked
“Indeed.”
With no other explanation, Kenzu stood in one easy motion and placed the sword into my hands.
“My sense of honor may have been clouded on this issue, but the fate of our world is a constant reminder of what we face together. The swords we present today are but the first of many to come. It will take time to create the number you seek, but my warriors and I will prevail. We will not fail.”
I looked back and saw that every one of the warriors had a second sword in their possession. I guessed that they had stayed up all night preparing them. Their effort had been monumental and I gratefully accepted the gift Kenzu offered me.
I looked down at the sword and marveled at the wonder of it. Outwardly, it looked no different than the katana that Kenzu wore at his side. It was inside the sword’s handle where the difference lay. A microchip embedded inside the handle was connected to a series of grafted conduits directly beneath the outer skin of the sword handle. When activated, the conduit made a passive connection with the nexus of nerves in the user’s hands, and through them, a pathway to the user’s brain. Once the neural pathway was established, the transference of skills and memories lying recorded in the weapon’s circuit, were passed directly to the user’s brain and temporarily became their own.
“May I be the first to try it?”
Kenzu chuckled.
“You may be the second. We had to test it first to make sure it worked.”
Finding that stash of microchips may very well turn the tide of the war. If Kenzu could make more of these weapons we may just have a chance. I looked down at the weapon and found the activation stub. Pushing it in, I noticed a slight prickling in my arm and then a flood of memories assaulted my senses. I steadied myself against the wall for the first few moments until I acclimated to the sensation.
