Cosmic Dust (eBook)

HL Gibson (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2025 | 1. Auflage
348 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
979-8-3509-9798-9 (ISBN)

Infos

Jogo, the ambitious youngest son of a herdsman, lives in the Realm. Melanie, a troubled and pregnant young woman, is alone on Earth. When the unlikely pair meet at a compound for a religious sect led by the charming, charismatic young pastor, Lucien Phoenix, they form a friendship that becomes the foundation of their survival. Their friendship holds more meaning than they realize when it leads to the discovery of a sacred artifact and a vision that can reunite the Group of Four that has been seeking return.

HL Gibson, a native Ohioan, is a lifelong lover of books and storytelling. She credits her mother for instilling her passion for reading, which led her to cultivate a vivid imagination as a writer and inspired her to finally put her stories on the page. As a member of the Beth Tikkun Messianic Fellowship, her faith plays a significant role in crafting her fiction. HL has a vast and growing personal library, loves tea and classical music, and enjoys mentoring new writers. She is married with one son and five high-maintenance cats.

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Jogo, the ambitious youngest son of a herdsman, lives in the Realm and is eager to prove himself to his father and brothers. When given the responsibility of delivering animals to another clan, his headstrong personality mixed with a prank by his siblings leads him into danger, which resulted in Jogo being sent through a portal to Earth. This is just the beginning of a journey that will change Jogo's life forever and perhaps even the people of the Realm. On Earth, pregnant and alone, a troubled young woman named Melanie is searching for someone to love. When she meets a charming, charismatic young pastor named Lucien, she thinks she has discovered a place of belonging. Little does she know, her problems are just starting. Together, Jogo and Melanie hold the key to each other's survival. Their friendship holds more meaning than they realize when it leads to the discovery of a sacred artifact and a vision that can reunite the Group of Four that has been seeking return.

Textauszug

Chapter One

With a brushstroke of gray across the dark horizon, the new day made its presence known. Fingers of wind rippled the standard of every Clan held aloft by those who stood at the ready, the fabric snapping the air with impatience. A handful of Patenne, their work completed in identifying the Clans by pattern and color, rejoined their fellow Artists, who would employ their musical talents with horn and drum to sort and arrange the milling masses.

Gatherers behind Clan lines rushed to stoke the fires, reduced to embers throughout the night, to brew medicine for those who would endure injuries. These Jiltraosne made last-minute adjustments on armor and footwear, offered a calming beverage to those whose stomachs roiled with expectation, and painted blackened grease beneath the eyes of the combatants to reduce glare. They designated an area for tending the wounded and prepared transport should the need for retreat arise.

The Leaders directed the Artists on where to form the ranks of the warriors. Natamosne, who spent their careers refining their own abilities as well as those under their tutelage, walked among their troops, rechecking weaponry and speaking words of encouragement. They consulted maps of the terrain, their memories, and the Annals of the Natamosne. Lastly, but no less importantly, they added their prayers to those being offered by the many Thedanosne. Walking among the rows of warriors, the Healers conducted battle on a less physical front.

The pale star that warmed their world crept upward at the pace of an old man with an aching back. Or perhaps it just seemed that way for those anticipating the sight of what they already knew awaited them. The sun climbed into its bed of wine-stained clouds, where it would remain relatively unnoticed as those on the ground prepared for confrontation. The Natamosne welcomed the sun rising at their backs, its first rays blinding their adversaries, but they did not relish the picture it revealed to them. The canvas would be painted with the blood of the lives sacrificed to preserve truth.

The opposite edge of the battlefield teemed with activity. Figures too small to distinguish resembled colonies of minute lifeforms that lived in dark corners and crevices, a pestilence that emerged at inopportune times to plague people and destroy life. Through squinted eyes, the Leaders watched as they swarmed back and forth in an effort to sort themselves out. The drone of their conversation carried on the wind.

A lone predator circled the sky, its feathered wings tilting imperceptibly to ride the wind. Blue-gray eyes shot through with iridescent green scanned the scene. Obedience to its master checked its natural instinct to hunt. Tethers hung from the beast’s four clawed feet, tucked snugly against its body for flight. The creature made one more pass over the ranks of the enemy, shrieking at no one in particular, then wheeled back across the open plain between the two armies. Those who watched its departure wasted no arrows trying to kill the animal. It flew far above the reach of their weapons as it had been trained to do.

With a deft touch, the predator landed on the braced arm of its handler. All four feet gripped the man’s leather-clad arm, and the head at the end of the long neck snaked back and forth with pleasure at the sight of fresh meat held in the gloved hand. It would not yield to the temptation to snatch the food and launch itself skyward. Instead, it curled its scaled, prehensile tail around the man’s upper arm until a quick nod and a toss of the meat signaled release.

The creature seized the reward in its beak. It sat back on its haunches and held the meat in its front claws, mincing the raw treat into morsels that it swallowed whole. The handler stroked the thumb of his ungloved hand across the creature’s feather-crested head, seeing the recent images stored in the highly intelligent beast’s mind. The bond between a Jiltraos and a dorak was extremely rare, but once discovered and honed, it proved invaluable. For this reason, dorakne were greatly prized and sought by the Second Sighted.

“What has the dorak seen, Batio?” asked a deep voice in the language of the Clans.

A group of Natamosne approached Batio, his own standing with them. Batio would not waste time describing the rolling plains, once covered with lush green, orange, and red grasses, but now burned to stubble by their adversaries to level the battlefield. Nor would he remind the Leaders of the tangled forest bordering the land behind their enemies through which there was no hope of escape, another indication that the sojabosne meant to fight to the death. He would not mention the mist-covered mountain ranges layered in shades of obsidian behind the amassed Clans. Instead, he relayed the size and state of the opposing horde.

“They outnumber our forces two to one, Mira-Todaj,” Batio answered the Leader. “But they are disorganized, and I see weapons in the hands of Thedanosne and Patenne, who I recognize.”

“Never in all my life did I think I would live to see the day a Paten took up a sword instead of a paintbrush,” said one Leader with a white beard sweeping the ground.

“Nor a Thedanos in leather armor ready for battle instead of healing the sick,” added another.

Todaj removed his leather helmet, closing his eyes. He ran his hand over his shorn white hair and bowed his head. The distant thunder of his voice reached beyond Batio and the circle of Natamosne.

“Today we fight the men and women stolen from among our own families and friends. Those who chose to embrace and live the lie. The scars their absence leaves upon our hearts must not be allowed to distract us from the task set before us by the Liabish Tag. They shall be removed from our world to await judgment in exile. Thus, we do not enter lightly into this conflict nor take for granted that our enemy will fight with anything less than zeal.”

The High Council of Elders had chosen wisely when they appointed Todaj as Supreme Natamos of the combined Clan armies. His walk through life had never deviated from the instruction given in the stars, no matter how painful the trial that lay before him. While Todaj would be the first to admit it took a lifetime to learn how to appreciate the testing that shaped his character for the better, he would also declare that he would not trade a single experience for an easier life. For this reason, men and women were drawn to his Leadership.

And yet, battle on the scale they were about to engage in had not been conducted since the newly formed Clans had driven out the fallen ones from their world at the dawn of time. Furthermore, for the first time in their history, the Clans would fight those with whom they had forged a bond through marriage, parenting, and friendship. The Leader knew the war going on in the minds of his troops; men and women who had only participated in training and feats of skill were being called upon to fight for everything they believed in, and by example he would guide them.

Todaj replaced his helmet and dropped to one knee to receive the blessing of the Thedanos of his own Doh s’Ima. The other Natamosne did likewise. With a sound like a single clap of thunder, the troops also bowed in unison to offer up a request for the success of their mission. Their collective voices fell on the ears of the sojabosne as they arose to chant battle cries. Swords drawn from their scabbards flashed like lightning in the morning sun. Battle axes and war maces thumped against shields, and spears pounded the ground.

It was time.

The sojabosne growled their mockery and rage from across the battlefield, their voices muffled by masks constructed of fabric and fur. The mouthless hood, more suited to an artistic endeavor than war, enclosed their entire head, and the eyeholes were mere slits covered in slices of transparent stone. Several Natamosne dismissed this bizarre headware as some inexplicable ritual the sojabosne had adopted, but Todaj registered awareness of even the minutest element of war.

In the last moments before engagement, Batio handed his dorak to his best friend, Mahlat, a Student of the Jiltraosne.

“I will make sure she is safely hidden until your return,” Mahlat said.

Batio waited for his friend to finish securing the dorak in her reed basket before placing his hand on Mahlat’s shoulder. The other man stood and looked Batio directly in his eyes.

“If I do not return, I want your child to have the dorak. Her name is Hidete.”

“You will return, Batio. In triumph. After serving valiantly on the battlefield.”

The two men knocked helmets and proceeded to their designated positions under the direction of Doh s’Ima members serving in individual roles requiring their unique abilities. The remaining three-quarters of the Groups of Four assembled midway through the ranks of the Clan forces. From their secluded position, the gathered Dohne s’Ima opened portals the moment Todaj sounded the call to advance.

Waves of bodies crashed upon each other as the two armies met in the middle of the field. The second half of the Clan warriors spilled through portals that...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 8.4.2025
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Fantasy / Science Fiction ► Fantasy
• ISBN-13: 979-8-3509-9798-9 / 9798350997989