Five books…five sample scenes…

Dust of Earth:

“Hurry, you must go!” Jakin tugged at his wife’s arm, gesturing down a dark corridor echoing with the sounds of the battle outside. “Now! There is no time!” He held the torch higher to light the way for her as she followed the soldiers of the King’s Guard. Down the passageway and through arched doorways that led to even darker corridors, their feet crunched on the ancient dirt of the castle dungeons.

“Where will we go?” his wife, the Queen, whispered, clutching their infant daughter closer to her chest.

 Jakin noted the fear in her eyes and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, gesturing to Maaoteo to take the Queen’s maids and go ahead of them. “You must go to Koss, there are people there who will help you. They are waiting. It is all arranged. Maaoteo will see to your safety.”

He caressed the tiny curl-covered head of their daughter. “Keep her safe, no matter what it takes. She is the future of the land.” He leaned over to kiss the princess on the forehead. “I will follow as quickly as I can, but you must go now.”

“Come with us,” Jessamyne whispered, wiping the spattered blood of battle from Jakin’s cheek with her thumb. “There is nothing more you can do here.”

“You know I can’t.” He brushed a strand of dark hair away from her face. “I must get the Te’eta.” He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against hers. “I was a fool, I should have used it the moment they crossed the Forbidden Bridge. I must correct my error—”

“No, my love,” Jessamyne murmured, fear flashing in her eyes as she pressed her hand against his chest.

Dust rained down from above as the castle shuddered violently.

“They’ve broken through into the Great Hall,” Jakin murmured, but then regretted it when Jessamyne clutched the infant closer to her chest and her eyes grew wide with terror.

“You two, come with me.” Jakin nodded to two soldiers waiting nearby. He kissed his wife one last time and urged her toward the tunnel hidden behind an ancient statue of a flying beast, the name of which was long forgotten.

“Go. Now.”

Choking back her tears, Jessamyne did as she was bid, covering little Galiya’s face with the edge of her skirt to shield her from the dirt sifting down from the walls around them—crumbling beneath the onslaught of the battle outside that shook the castle to its foundations. She glanced back as Jakin jogged away to retrieve the Te’eta. “Good-bye, my love,” she whispered.

Sprinting through secret passageways, Jakin and the soldiers made their way to the Temple Tower. Battle cries echoed through the corridors as his loyal soldiers fought the intruders, the clash of steel on steel ringing like the bells of doom. All that was left was to save the Te’eta. Why hadn’t he listened when the Wise Ones had advised him to destroy Faeran? None of this would be happening if he had killed him instead of only exiling him.

Jakin gave himself a mental shake as they climbed the tower stairs and approached the heavy stone door. No time for regrets now. What is done, is done. As he pushed the door with all his might, it pivoted open and he peeked into the Temple room. It was empty, there was still time. “Guard the door,” he commanded the soldiers before stepping inside the Temple and pushing the door closed behind him.

Jakin quickly scanned the room before his gaze settled on the Te’eta. Sitting on its platform in the center of four symbol-carved stone pillars, the artifact’s small size belied its power.

A pure white light beamed through an opening in the ceiling, striking the flat center of the Te’eta and engulfing it in a glow that scattered through each of its four spiraled arms, creating new golden beams of light shining to each of the four pillars.

He approached the first pillar and reached for the spike at its top where the light returned to the beam’s source in the ceiling. With a sizzling crack, a bolt of light shot out of the pillar and zapped Jakin, throwing him to the floor.

“Idiot!” he muttered, as he scrambled to his feet and began to unhook the clasps that held his armor in place. Piling it on a nearby table with his sword lying at its side, he tried again. This time the Te’eta allowed his touch and he curled his fingers around the spike. He began to chant the sounds he’d memorized as a boy.

“No’uwids f’os egh’th ro’uwld inhj’on s’as egh’on”

The golden light glowed brighter for a moment and then shimmered all the colors of the rainbow before the light beam to that pillar vanished into one of the spiraled arms of the Te’eta. Jakin moved around the floor to the next pillar and started again, this time placing his hand in a groove along the right side of the pillar.

“No’ulads f’os egh’th ro’uwld inhj’on s’as egh’on”

The light glowed brighter, and then it shimmered a bright green before disappearing into another arm of the Te’eta.

Jakin glanced toward the voices shouting outside the door and the clatter of steel on steel as his men battled the intruders. His heart raced as he moved to the third pillar and placed his hand in the groove on its left side, chanting again and watching the light glow blue before it disappeared. Then he moved to the fourth and final pillar. This one was the most dangerous.

Clasping the pendant he wore around his neck, he leaned his forehead against the pillar and began chanting the words. The golden light changed to a dark and ominous red as heat surged through his body. A sizzling sound accompanied the burning sensation against his forehead, but he willed himself to hold it in place and wait for the sensation to pass. With a flash, the light vanished into the final arm of the Te’eta just as the Temple door crashed open and Faeran strode into the room.

Tall and slim, with sleek black hair reminiscent of a raven’s wing, Faeran would have looked like a starved scarecrow if not for the black eyes that peered out from under heavy brows, eyes that seemed to look right through a man and know all his secrets in an instant. Jakin leapt for the Te’eta as Faeran shouted, “No!” and sent a ball of light from the palm of his hand toward the King.

Instinctively, Jakin grabbed the Te’eta and held it in front of his body like a shield. With a thunderous boom, the ball of light struck the Te’eta and Jakin vanished, the four spiraled arms of the Te’eta crashing to the floor like discarded puzzle pieces that no longer fit together.

All across the land, the ground shook and split open, swallowing whole villages. Others were destroyed by tornadoes that sprang from clear skies, and tidal waves as big as mountains drowned coastal lands. Volcanoes erupted and cities burned and cries of confusion and terror filled the air.

Stumbling as the castle shook and shuddered, Faeran gathered the pieces of the Te’eta and then gazed out a window to where his army below was crushing the King’s men like a child steps on ants. His brow furrowed as he watched whirlwinds leap unhindered from the sky and sweep across the valley toward the castle. His gaze shifted to the spiraled pieces he held in his hands as understanding washed across his face.

Faeran smiled.

Drop of Water:

“Sir.” Patrolman Juma landed his Coba dragonfly on the cliff face beside Captain Beryx. “This section has been searched.”

Captain Beryx shifted his weight to look at Juma. “And?”

“Nothing, sir. Some gazelles here and there, but no sign of the Maaoteo warriors.”

The captain took a deep breath and exhaled as he looked up at the sky. Another three hours and it will be sundown, and it’s a long flight back to the cloud city where it’s watering crops in central Arh’et. He unfolded his map and crossed off another section. One left before they will reach the Forbidden Bridge and then they can call the southern coast of Arh’et, searched. He studied the map for a moment, then glanced over at the four Cobas hovering nearby.

“Do you think they can handle a quick fly-by on this last section before heading back? It’s a short one. Then Captain Cirio’s patrol can start on the east coast tomorrow. We’ll be going to Wind Drifter Island.”

“It’s your call, Captain,” Juma said, lifting the reins to stop his Coba from climbing the rocks in pursuit of a cliff rat.

Captain Beryx looked up at the sky one last time, then waved the other patrolmen closer. “We’ll ladder-fly along this last section. Each man inspect the cliffs at his elevation. At the Forbidden Bridge we’ll cut across the mountains and head for home. Shouldn’t take much more than an hour to check this last bit, if we hustle.” He nudged his Coba who released its grip on the cliff and hovered beside the others. “Double-time!” He waved his men forward.

The Cobas spread out in a vertical line, one just above the other as they flew along the cliffs of Arh’et in search of the missing Maaoteo warriors. They followed the jagged coastline, working their way west.

Captain Beryx reached out to stroke his tired steed, feeling the tiny hairs that covered her purple back. She chirped quietly in response, tipping her head to one side to look back at him with one large eye.

 They’d been flying along the coast in sections for days and fighting the air currents along the cliffs was taking its toll on the dragonflies. They were accustomed to flying at higher altitudes as they patrolled around the cloud city. “Last shift, Tia. Then you’ll have some time off.”

Juma descended from above on his blue Coba. “Fly through or around, sir?” he shouted, pointing ahead at a huge fog-bank clinging to the cliffs.

“Through,” Captain Beryx shouted back. “We have to check all the cliffs!”

“Yessir!” Juma’s Coba rose back to its position in the vertical patrol.

“Half-speed!” The captain shouted as they approached the fog. “Maintain your altitude!”

Minutes after entering the fog-bank, the captain’s clothes were soggy from the haze that pelted his face like a drizzling rain. He squinted, trying to see the cliffs through the dreary mist. The whirring of Coba wings above and below gave him some comfort, driving away the sense of isolation the swirling fog pressed upon him.

Reaching into his pocket, he tugged out a damp handkerchief and mopped the moisture from his eyelids. It was a futile gesture, he realized, as he squeezed the water from the cloth and stuffed it back into his pocket.

His Coba’s wings slowed, burdened by the water clinging to the delicate tissue. She began to falter. “Just a little bit farther,” he said, stroking the dragonfly’s back.

He peered ahead, straining to see. For a moment the mist seemed to dissipate, swirling in a ghost breeze. He thought he saw some kind of structure clinging to the cliffs just as he heard a high-pitched squeak. Then a strange whooshing sound came out of nowhere all around him.

“What the—?” he blurted, as a dark shape came out of the fog. “Abort!” he screamed, as the biggest bat he’d ever seen came through the mist with its mouth wide open to expose jagged teeth. It wrapped its massive wings around the Coba and bit down on its head with a blood-curdling crunch.

Captain Beryx recoiled from the sound and instinctively retreated across Tia’s back. He fumbled between her broken wings—which had folded under the crushing pressure of the bat’s wings—scooting away from the fanged jaws that snapped after him.

The screams of his men echoed in the fog around him like disembodied voices as bat and dragonfly fell through the air together toward the sea. He looked up just in time to see a painted man on the bat’s back thrust a long spear toward his chest. He grabbed the shaft of the spear with both hands and stared up at the warrior with wide eyes. “Maaoteo,” he whispered, blood gurgling out of his mouth as the warrior retracted the spear and the bat released the Coba.

      The bat spread its wings just in time to avoid plunging into the water with Captain Beryx and his Coba, the splashing spray dousing the warrior and his mount as they flew along the surface and disappeared into the mist.

Gust of Wind:

Mita stood in the arena and looked around at his opponents scattered between the giant creatures that were as likely to kill each other as the men amongst them. The combatants carried a selection of the available weapons and each had adorned himself with armor that spoke of his fear of death.

His gaze drifted up to the thundering crowd behind the nets that separated them from the dangers in the arena. They shouted like a blood-thirsty mob unfamiliar with the sensation of true impending danger. Disgust welled up within him as they clapped and cheered, urging the battle to begin so that they might be entertained…or win a wager.

Mita returned his gaze to Ansa’s viewing box where Prince Malakai now kneeled before Lord Saba. Rage simmered within him, even though he knew it was all a show for Lord Ansa. That his prince should be so humbled for the benefit of such scum! Mita trembled, his hand clenching around his spear.  If not for a higher purpose, he would hurtle it through Ansa’s heart.

He watched Malakai leave the box with that tall man they’d met on the beach and silently wished him well on his quest. Then he turned his attention to the combatants taking each other’s measure. He noted the position of the creatures: snake to his left, turtle to his right, one salamander on the net in pursuit of the praying mantis, the other crouched watchfully. The horned lizard was climbing the scaffolding, now barren of its net covering. Its swiveling eyes fixed on the Culls that had taken refuge there—exhausted by the day’s events.

“Let the battle begin!” Lord Ansa shouted from the safety of his throne.

Combatants charged each other, each thirsting to draw first blood. The creatures reacted, intrigued by the sudden movement of potential prey.

“You’re going down, newcomer!” Brin the Brawler bellowed as he lunged at Mita. Mita impaled him on his spear, then thrust him through the air. Brin landed in a heap in front of the snapping turtle, who was quick to snatch him up.

Dodging the snake slithering toward him, Mita sprinted toward Flek the Fierce who had just plunged his trident into the throat of Baruk the Brave. Flek yanked the trident free and turned to meet Mita. His ferocious expression turned to shock when Mita threw himself down and took out Flek’s legs with the edge of his shield, leaving him sprawled and broken in front of the salamander who was already stalking him.

Ivin the Invincible strode toward Mita, twirling his staff. Mita squared off with him. Ivin grinned between the slats in his helmet as he spun the staff to and fro, demonstrating his skill for the delighted spectators. Mita thrust his spear into the ground at Ivin’s feet, jarring the spinning staff and sending it flying. Ivin produced a wide blade from the sheath on his thigh, then invited Mita closer with a wiggling of his finger tips. Mita dropped to the ground with his shield held above him as a cluster of Coba Culls flew over. A dull blue one scooped Ivin up and carried him away, screaming.

Mita leapt to his feet and spun around, taking inventory of the remaining combatants. Hayk the Hacker had just buried his ax in the belly of Taniv the Terror. Salek the Slicer was facing off with Korak the Crusher. And Tareq the Tumbler was—

Mita landed on his back with a grunt, then rolled over and pulled himself to his knees, coughing as the horned lizard’s tail raised a cloud of dust in its wake. The lizard spun around, lunging at its prey. Mita dived away from its gnashing teeth and came up with a knife, plunging it into the lizard’s throat. The lizard rolled over, taking Mita with it as it tumbled across the arena and collided with the corner of the scaffolding—the boards collapsing on top of them. Mita clung to the lizard’s thick scales, stabbing it anywhere the knife would penetrate while the lizard fought its way out of the wreckage, snarling and hissing. Mita clawed his way up onto the lizard’s back and plunged his longest knife into the groove behind its skull. The lizard collapsed, exhaling one small whimper.

Mita stood on the lizard’s back and leapt over to the remains of the scaffolding. The damaged structure groaned under his weight as he climbed higher.

“Aaaaeee!” Salek the Slicer charged toward him, then threw a knife. Mita dived between the board framework. The knife stuck in the wood just above him. Mita pulled it out and, hanging from one arm, he threw it back. Salek wavered a moment, his hands flailing uselessly and failing to grasp the handle protruding from his eye-socket. He sank to his knees, then fell forward, dead.

Mita climbed the scaffolding and emerged from the top. Four Coba Culls flew away with chunks of Ivin, but a fifth one stood its ground, eying Mita. It’s wearing a saddle!

Mita looked around. Hayk was engaged in battle with a salamander. Tareq was evading the snake with back-flips and somersaults. The bullfrog was creeping closer, its intent fixed on Mita. The mantis was crawling up the side of the scaffolding, stalking the blue Cull. Mita twisted around at the sound of Coba wings. They’re pack hunting…And they’re coming back!

Mita jumped from beam to beam across the top of the scaffold. The Cull vibrated its wings, but held its ground. With a grunt, Mita leapt onto its back. It darted into the air, dodging the cluster of attacking Culls. Mita found his seat and guided the Cull into attack position. Yanking knives from his belt as fast as he could, he took down three. The fourth retreated.

He turned the Cull and flew around the arena, the thundering of the crowd penetrating his consciousness for the first time since the fighting had begun.

A spear flew past his head. Tareq the Tumbler scooped up a trident and sprinted toward the scaffolding. Mita turned the Cull. Tareq dived into the structure, leaping and scrambling from board to board and emerging from the top to throw the trident just as Mita arrived. The Cull’s legs plowed into Tareq, knocking him backwards into the waiting arms of the mantis. They tumbled backwards off the scaffolding together. The bullfrog snatched Tareq out of the air with its long sticky tongue. Screaming and grasping at anything he could, Tareq carried the mantis’s head down the bullfrog’s throat with him.

Hayk bellowed, thumping the armor on his chest with his fist. Mita turned the Cull, sizing up the big man and his ax standing in the center of the arena—challenging him. Mita felt his belt. One knife left. He reined in the Coba and hovered, perusing the wreckage and gore. He shook his head. There is no honor in this.

He landed the Cull across from Hayk and dismounted. The Cull flew away. Mita scooped up a handful of dirt and rubbed it between his hands. He watched Hayk from the corner of his eye. Hayk thumped his ax across his blood spattered chest, making a loud clanking sound against his heavy armor. The crowd chanted Hayk! Hayk! Hayk!

Mita walked around Hayk, slowly moving closer. Hayk held up his ax, growling and snarling at Mita as if he were a wild animal. Mita reversed and walked the other direction, evaluating him.

“What’s the matter?” Hayk said. “Scared?” He lunged toward Mita. Mita dodged the ax and walked away.

“Whaddaya think this is? An afternoon stroll?” Hayk spit on the ground, then growled at Mita.

Mita scooped up Ivin’s staff and started twirling it. Left, right, above his head, behind his back.

Hayk charged at him, his ax swinging.

Mita hooked the ax with the staff, ripping it from Hayk’s grip, then he flipped the staff down and jammed it between Hayk’s legs. The big man sprawled on his face, his helmet flying.

The crowd roared.

Mita walked away, allowing Hayk to retrieve his ax.

Hayk turned toward him, his eyes narrowing. “Who are you?”

Mita stopped walking and quickly assessed the positions of the remaining creatures, then he returned his gaze to Hayk, the staff held loosely at his side. “I am Mita,” he said, lifting his chin. “Elder of the Ba’at Warriors of the Maaoteo people.”

Hayk spit on the ground again. “Well, bait warrior of the toe people, what’re you doing in my arena?”

Mita frowned. “I have come to protect the prince.”

Hayk looked around, then laughed derisively. “There ain’t no princes here, bait warrior!”

“Then I must kill you so I can go to prince,” Mita said, lifting the staff.

Hayk scowled. “You’re the one that’s gonna die, toe man.” He ran toward Mita, his ax raised.

Mita easily deprived him of the ax again, this time flinging it out of reach and knocking Hayk on the back of the neck with the staff on his way by. Hayk staggered a few steps, then scooped up a spear and threw it at Mita as he spun around. Mita knocked it out of the air, striding toward Hayk.

Hayk scrambled for a trident laying in the dirt. He spun around and thrust it at Mita. Mita blocked it with the staff and wrenched it out of Hayk’s hands.

Hayk threw a punch at Mita’s midsection. Mita twisted, deflecting the blow and wrapping his arm around Hayk’s throat. With one swift move, he snapped the big man’s neck.

Spark of Fire:

Jakin stared across the Yellow Valley at the remains of his home jutting through the mud laid down by the cloud city’s storm. The Temple Tower leaned to one side, crooked and precarious, as if the slightest breeze would send it tumbling to the ground. His gaze drifted across the valley, examining the perimeter where deformed and stunted trees provided the meager shelter he’d once shared with Malakai. It seemed a lifetime ago.

Nudging his horse, he picked his way through the mounds of dry mud, keeping an eye on the sky to watch for Jax Riders. He’d declined Jaya’s offer of a ride on one of the great Ba’ats who could have delivered him into Z’lea under the cover of night. There was a personal matter he wanted to attend to, first. Alone.

Approaching the crumbled stones of Castle Daxx, his heart filled with sorrow. He paused to drink in the remnants of a once proud castle, his gaze eventually settling on the cave entrance to the dungeons. Piles of loose dirt nearly obscured it and he wondered who had been digging there. Are they still here?

Dismounting, he pulled a knife from his boot and crept toward the entrance, using half-buried boulders and broken stone blocks as cover. He paused, listening for any signs of life: A voice. A clanking of a shovel. Anything.

Silence greeted him as he took his first steps into the tunnel, his mind flashing back to those final moments when he’d escorted Jessamyne and Galiya to what he’d thought would be safety. Pain stabbed his heart like a jagged dagger, twisting and tearing. For a moment, he struggled to draw air into his chest as he considered what happened next, mere minutes after he’d left their side.

Wrapping a bit of cloth around the knife’s tip, he lit it with a Z’lea sphere, then made his way deeper under the castle—past the broken pieces of ancient statues poking out of the mud-pack—until he came to the end of the tunnel other hands had dug. He couldn’t go any further.

Reaching inside the pocket of his peasant shirt, he retrieved the dried Solar Bloom he’d picked at the Arh’et Fortress, then knelt down to lay it on the ground. “I’ll find a way to come back to you, Jessamyne.” His voice caught in his throat. “When I…when I have the Te’eta again…I’ll come back and save you from this terrible fate. Both of you. I promise.” He closed his eyes, his heart reaching across time, searching for his beloved—the memory of the visions he’d had while in a coma giving him hope that anything was possible.

He took a deep breath and rose to his feet, one hand on the wall—as if by touching it he could comfort Jessamyne’s remains. Turning away, he came face to face with the cracked image of Ki’jana’i protruding out of the dry mud to smirk at him. Jakin stared, suddenly confused. Was that here when I came in?

“It is written.” A voice whispered. “It is written. It is written. It is written.”

“I opened the Moonstone and read the pages,” Jakin said to the face of the Yolmar. “Is there more?”

“Guardian…It is time…”

“I don’t understand,” Jakin said, trying to ignore his racing heart.

The face blurred and shifted, using the dry mud to transform into an image.

Jakin gasped, suddenly understanding. He sprinted out of the tunnel, mounted his horse and galloped away.

Prequel: Days of Chaos:

“SSHHIIPPSS!” Dillon shouted as they reached the top of the steep bank over-looking the Bay of Koss.

Even Mya was impressed. There must have been at least fifty ships anchored in the bay as well as several moored beside a long pier. Even more approached from out at sea. These were real ships, not the little boats they’d seen on the lakes and rivers back home. These were ships meant to travel the open sea. They towered above the water with masts that reached toward the sky and they had sails folded like white bandages along the yard-arms. Smaller row-boats moved slowly from shore to ship, laden with crates and barrels. Below and to their right on the beach men unloaded supplies from wagons drawn by teams of horses. The salt air was heavy with the smells of fish and seaweed and something else that Mya couldn’t identify.

“What is that smell?” she asked Polly, scrunching her nose as Dillon skipped down the sandy bank below them.

Polly’s smile faded. “Mya, do you remember that day? That day we were picking berries?”

Mya turned toward Polly. “Of course, how could I forget?”

“While we were running from earthquakes and fires and whirlwinds, there were waves all along the coast. Waves like walls that washed away whole villages, and the people—” Polly’s voice caught and she turned her gaze out to sea. “There were bodies, Mya. They were all over the beach when we arrived. They were just beginning the clean up when we came here, and the smell, it lingers…”

“But Koss wasn’t—?” Mya was confused.

“No, Koss was protected. Something about the reefs and break-waters out there.” Polly pointed to where the ships out beyond the bay seemed to be lining up along one path. “And this bank.” She pointed to the ground where they were standing. “It used to be much higher. I don’t really understand it all, but it broke up the waves and protected Koss. Protected us, further inland…”

Mya’s eyes watered as she imagined hundreds, perhaps thousands, of bodies washing ashore.

They stood in silence awhile, watching the sailors haul supplies out to the ships and return to shore with empty row-boats. Dillon sat in the sand on the bank below them, playing with Freckles and explaining life as a sailor to the disinterested lizard.

“How many have died?” Mya whispered.

Polly took a deep breath. “I heard as much as half the population of Surot died in those first few days of chaos.”

Mya inhaled sharply. “And now we’re being divided into different realms,” she mumbled.

“I hope your Ma decides to stay in Koss.” Polly looked at Mya. “She will, won’t she?”

“I don’t know. I think so.” Mya looked back at the ships. “Dillon wants to go to the water realm of course.” She smiled.

Polly smiled wryly and returned her gaze to the ships. “Well, you have to admit the ships are pretty.”

Mya nodded. “And there’s so many of them. Look, there must be thirty more out there waiting to come into the bay.”

“This is just the first wave. There will be at least two hundred ships here by tomorrow.”

“How do you know that?” Mya asked.

“Johnny told me.”

Mya smirked. “And how would Johnny know?”

Polly tipped her head, her brows scrunched together as she studied Mya’s face. “You really never did listen to anything he said to you, huh?”

“What do you mean?”

“Johnny’s grandfather is the mayor of Koss.” Polly waved her arm back toward the city. “He helped organize all of this.”

Mya’s eyes grew wide. “He helped…you mean, he organized that horrible refugee camp?”

“Aw, it’s not that bad, is it?” Polly’s face tightened. “I mean, he only had a few days to get it all together, find blankets and arrange for wheat to make the bread…”

“Bread he baked in his own bakery, no doubt,” Mya snapped, suddenly annoyed with her friend for defending the meager fare they had been given.

“Well, somebody had to bake it, Mya.” Polly scowled. “Johnny’s grandfather, he’s a man of influence, and someday Johnny will take his place. You shouldn’t be so mean to him, Mya. He could help you. Do things for you…”

Mya glared at her friend. “I can’t believe you’re def—wait, where is Dillon?” The blood drained from Mya’s face as she realized Dillon had disappeared.