Book Excerpts



Book excerpts by Character



Commander Xanqunnes Lichtbringer



- We meet the commander initially in the intro in a bar fight scene, because let’s face it, every good story has a bar, a damsel and a fight. This excerpt however is the commanders first encounter with IIION , the other protagonist,





Xanqunnes cautiously approached the Setaran. “I am here to assist you.” The Setaran looked up, and for a moment, the Commander could have sworn he saw something infinite dwelling within the bright yellow eyes of this unusual creature.

It resembled a star-scape of planets and flaming asteroids. “Then perhaps you should lower your weapon, Commander,” IIION suggested, a faint smile touching his luminescent orbs. The Setaran’s voice was melodramatically deep, like a talk-show host’s.

Well cultured and easily understood. The Setaran coughed out a bit of blood and rasped out something unintelligible.


Xanqunnes leaned in closer, although he kept a tentative grip on his weapon. The figure repeated what he had said, and the Commander wondered if he imagined things because it sounded very much like the Setaran had addressed him by his first name. He quickly examined the injuries of the Setaran and discovered that he had been shot, not once but at least thrice. The bleeding had abated, though. No fresh blood was seeping out, which meant either the injury was improving or the Setaran would die soon. Either way, they needed to get a move on.


The atmosphere in the ship was becoming heavier by the minute, and he could not trust the environment to remain stable. “Help me up, Xanqunnes,” the Setaran whispered. The Commander’s flesh went cold. This time he’d distinctly heard his name being called.

“How do you know my name?” he asked in surprise. IIION watched the Commander’s shocked expression in amusement. Humans still had a long way to go.

“How did you know his name?” Zhirak’s inquisitive voice enquired from within. “Some secrets we will leave for you to figure out for yourself, Zhirak. Young souls need to grow. Otherwise, it will all be too easy." The Commander paused as he leaned forward and noticed his badge proclaiming his name was obvious to anyone who bothered to look. But he had to ask. “How do you know my name, sir?” the Commander asked again as he gently placed his arm under the injured Setaran’s shoulder and tried to lift him.

“Lucky guess,” IIION croaked out. The armoured suit was a temporary strength enhancer and could comfortably double the wearer’s natural power for short periods. The Setaran was almost half a meter taller than Xanqunnes and weighed at least two hundred kilograms.


Xanqunnes struggled to hoist the feline, but after some creative maneuvering, he managed to lever the injured Setaran out of the melted chair. They began an odd walk shuffle that would have looked hilarious in other circumstances. The muscular Setaran dwarfed the two-meter human by almost half a meter. To an observer, the Commander looked more like a child helping an adult than two fully grown individuals clinging together to move forward. “It is strange getting used to such slow movement,” the Setaran mumbled to no one. It was probably the pain talking, the Commander assumed. “Can you not heal us faster?” Zhirak asked. He was feeling edgy, and although the agony from the injuries was less, it still stung to walk.


Xanqunnes was still stewing about his name. The only logical conclusion he could arrive at was that the Setaran had probably seen him on a space cast on the universal web, or he was multilingual and had read his nameplate. “Who are you, sir?” Xanqunnes quietly asked as he helped the individual across the floor to exit the room. “I am…” The Setaran purred back, coughing a bit of light-blue liquid through his blood-stained fangs. Xanqunnes waited. The Setaran lapsed back into silence. “Please tell him you are a demon from another dimension who has deceitfully possessed my body.” “Hush,” IIION commanded. “I beg your pardon?” Xanqunnes glanced up in query at the limping feline. “Not for you, Commander.”


Definitely head trauma, Xanqunnes concluded. He tried a different tack. “Tell me, sir, where are you from?” “From the other side, Commander.” “From the other side of what?” This Setaran was definitely not well. “The other side of what you call reality, Commander.” Xanqunnes decided he would have to wait to continue this conversation. Obviously, this being was heavily concussed and needed proper medical care. They stumbled their way past the exit and turned right.


“Commander, I need a moment to recover.” Xanqunnes recalled seeing something in the adjoining room. Dragging IIION with him, they quickly ducked in. They entered the oxygen processing room, and Xanqunnes guided the Setaran to a chair. After the firefight, it was in slightly better shape than the previous war stool but still bent slightly under IIION’s mass. Xanqunnes removed his emergency patch kit from his utility belt and searched for external injuries. In the brighter light, Xanqunnes finally could observe his new companion. Apart from battle-scorched attire, what truly captured the Commander’s attention was the golden obsidian Circlet that glimmered with supernatural authority.


When they moved, the Circlet had flowed down the Setaran’s body like some incandescent worm and planted itself on his arm. The strange object covered IIION’s arm from elbow to fingertip and continued to his shoulder. It then split and moved across his other limb. Xanqunnes had never seen anything like it.


"Young souls need to grow. Otherwise, it will all be too easy."
- IION


IION - The lost soul in time



- IIION’s initial space has him imprisoned in a special void which is toxic to normal souls, he has had millennia to contemplate the origin of existence.-





IIION had experienced every emotion his eternal form had possessed, but, as he had forgotten them, they re-occurred and forced him to relive them many times. From sadness to anger and from hate to compassion. He had savoured love, then the betrayal that generally followed it.


He had lived in peace and flowed with happiness until anger overrode him, and he drifted into an unbalanced state. He had tasted rage and gnawed on the pangs of insatiable greed. He had wondered about tolerance and struggled with anxiety. He had burned with jealousy and then dropped into excitement as that emotion departed. He had dwelled in self-pity and suffered in loathing. He had seethed in hostility and then turned himself away in dispassion. A lustful emotion surfaced and was quenched by indifference. Passion flowed easily from him to be tempered with misery and sprinkled with anguish.

He had lingered in shame and swelled with pride while outrage lurked on the fringes of his consciousness. He had been shocked at the depths of his despair and had distrusted his fear while dreading hope that brought forth a sense of euphoria. He had joyfully slipped into ecstasy but was stilled by panic while driven by guilt, making him wonder why he craved sorrow. He had grieved in embarrassment while he learnt patience. Patience: that was the one lesson IIION had to master. Once he had realised that time was, in fact, eternal, time ceased to matter.

Only peace and balance mattered. And in this, IIION found a solution to his captivity, for within the lessons of time and continuity, he realised that, if everything was happening had happened and would happen again, he could shift his perception and begin to access that which he thought he would never sense again: himself and what was within.


He recalled from somewhere a profound quote. It said, “Be still and know that I am God.” Did that mean that he was a God or that there was a God within him? Because the discovery of self was eventually all that mattered. As IIION contemplated, the grey began to ominously darken. It plunged him into a smoky grey mist that enveloped the void. The Silver Void that he had roamed for what could have been eternity had changed tone, and there was no explanation.


He spun around in panic. What was happening? From within his balanced core, an unorthodox desire surfaced. He needed to leave this place. He had no idea where the irrepressible thought originated, but it took over his peace like a black snowstorm through a sheer white forest. The solution was now clear. This puzzle had taken IIION almost a hundred thousand years to comprehend and solve. But if the eternal soul was in the past, present and future, how could IIION be captive if all parts of him existed everywhere simultaneously?

He rejoiced within. Whatever the darkness had created, it had allowed him to understand and master his predicament. The solution had been his from the beginning. The freedom that he yearned for had always been within his grasp. The sum of the parts would equal nothing or be perilously close to the absolute realisation of one’s immortality. For his spirit was immortal. His escape depended on just one piece of his conscious puzzle being realised.


There was another challenge that IIION was sitting with. From his evolving recollections, he had been banished to a place that only existed in the minds of those who had exiled him, and they had erased their memories so that no one could remember him. For, if he did not exist in the first place in their minds, how could he be revived? A paradox of mind-boggling proportions!


"Be still and know that i am God"
- IION


Vespera Varstynerr -The Karain warrior



-this scene finds her in the middle of a life and death struggle in THE TEST
– a gladiatorial final right of passage of a Karain warrior.





She rapidly shuffled to where her opponent would have landed and slashed the air smoothly ahead of her. The tip of her blade nicked something, and it produced a yelp. Damn, they were quick. That kick would have cracked a few ribs of even an armoured heavy opponent. Instead, all it appeared to have done was stun her adversary.


There was a low, muted snarl as it slunk away from her. At least one thing was evident these mysterious fuckers did feel pain at least, which meant that they experienced fear. Or maybe they were just angrier at her now. Vespera slowed her heart rate to try to hear her opponent’s movement, but it appeared as if this new area had dampened her auditory perception. Great! Now she was blind and deaf.


This Test kept getting better. One of the smelly beasts leapt at her from above. She bent low, but another of the brutes slammed into her from behind with bone-jarring force. The beast hit her hard enough to knock the air out of her lungs and dislodge her trusty weapon. Tooth went careening away from her in a fathomless direction, which forced her to cling to Nail with obsessive tenacity.


Her opponent snapped at her midriff, and Vespera used the butt of her weapon and pounded a solid shot into its dense skull. It increased the pressure in its mouth and grabbed her harder. She kneed it twice as she was dragged across the soft ground. It grunted in pain but doggedly held on. Instead of resisting, she changed her tactics and went completely limp.


The sudden lack of struggle caused a slight hesitation in her aggressor’s movement. Vespera responded with a savage elbow to the creature’s head.


It loosened its grip on her long enough for Vespera to plunge her fist hard into where its throat should be. It staggered slightly, wheezing noisily as it tried to draw air into its lungs via its crushed larynx….


"It loosened its grip on her long enough for Vespera to plunge her fist hard into where its throat should be."


Lord Sorceress Anuriqqua



- The Lord Sorceress is in her throne in a tense meeting with the other citizens on her planet,
dragons who want to access certain artefacts, the situation is rapidly escalating-





The dragons were here with nefarious agendas. The Lord Sorceress could sense their intent as quickly as the southern star that rose every night.

The Book of Dreams always drew them, regardless of how they professed their loyalty to her or her people. No creatures with ambition could resist the promise of ultimate power that the Tome of Infinity, as it was also known, offered. Dragons, who were drawn to magic like bears to honey, found the presence of such a powerful artefact impossible to resist.


The war room smelt of cinnamon, fresh lavender and hints of winter orange. Large, crenelated pillars supported the enormous roof that disappeared seamlessly into the shrouded depths of the palace ceilings. The great dragons had all taken humanoid form, their gargantuan frames too large and unruly to fit in a throne room designed for dainty elves. It was a ruse, of course. The dragons knew it, the Lord Sorceress knew it, and all the observers in the castle knew it.


The Lord Sorceress had asked her guard to stand down. She did not want unnecessary lives lost, so the queen had Castle Tempus evacuated. She watched her protégé, the dragon she had placed her faith in. The malevolently charming black dragon was the only one who could sway them away from the upcoming battle now. It was up to her to belay this treacherous and pointless course of action. The dragon in question, Karizza Dralla, could not help but stare openly at the Lord Sorceress.


The Elven Queen was seated calmly opposite her and her brethren. The Lord Sorceress did not seem in the least bit intimidated. In appearances, she looked inherently peaceful and beautifully tranquil. The Lord Sorceress daintily sipped her moon mint tea and conversed politely with her restless guests. The dragons fidgeted and squirmed in their fragile humanoid forms.


The reptiles were not accustomed to the confines of such a dainty shell. Being in a delicate bipedal form severely restricted their nature and annoyed the dragons inordinately, which made them curt in their dialogues and hasty in their responses. Trans-morphing from a twenty-ton, eighty-meter element-breathing creature to a fifty-five-kilogram, pale-skinned elf was different from their idea of good social time.


But what they were here for was worth all the discomfort on the planet.


"The dragons fidgeted and squirmed in their fragile humanoid forms."


Zhirak



-this scene finds the Setaran King on a tiny moon far from the civilised universe
– he is about to be executed so his ruthless brother who has usurped the throne can keep it.





The Setaran glared at Zhirak with disdain. “Finally, we will be rid of your worthless hide. Always trying to help those in need. Helping the planet, helping the poor, helping our fucking food sources. For fuck’s sake, they should have strangled you at birth.”


The royal advisor looked quite smug in his new position of authority. The king did not initially respond. This man had been his father’s closest and most trusted friend. “Me?” Zhirak was too stunned to say anything further. The humans shoved him into the unyielding metal chair. Had they all despised him that much? The thought brought a wave of grief to his already fragile state.


Like a dam bursting, the Setaran King collapsed where he was, crying his heart out. It had been too much to bear: the loss of his mother and father in rapid succession. The disappearance of his sister. What had he done to deserve this cruel fate? Before he could react, he was securely clamped into the stool with loud metallic snaps. The king’s heart began to race as one of the men flicked a switch from somewhere behind him. “What do you want with me?” His plea sounded weak, even to himself. No wonder nobody bothered with him.


“Tell me.” The senator who had known him from birth shoved a foul-tasting cloth into his mouth. “Shut up and just die. It will be over soon.” “The king wants the circlet,” one of the soldiers blurted out. The senator gave him a dirty look and indicated something with his hands that Zhirak could not see. “We can take it later.” Zhirak could still feel the golden Circlet pulsing mildly on his head. Its presence was comforting in these disturbing circumstances. Muttering under his breath, the Setaran senator turned his back on his king and followed the other guards out.


The door slammed shut with a resounding thud, followed by a hiss. A light grey gas began seeping into the room from hidden vents. They were going to poison him, but how would Ashrak explain his death? No, there were many ways his lying sibling could explain his demise. He had been a trusting fool, and now he would pay the ultimate price. Suddenly, he wanted very much to live. Taking a deep breath of normal air, the panicked Setaran tightly sealed his nose and mouth shut.


As avid swimmers and underwater hunters, the species had developed the ability to close their breathing tubes as needed. He hoped and fervently prayed that someone would have a change of heart and realise that they would gain nothing from killing him. He was not a threat to anyone. After ten minutes, the Setaran had beads of sweat building on his feline brows and whiskers. After twenty, his neon yellow eyes began to bulge as he neared the limit of his stamina.


At twenty-five minutes, it was over. Zhirak released all the air in his lungs and took a deep unpleasant gulp of the surrounding atmosphere. His chest burned, and his eyes watered in pain. He tried to hold his breath again, but the damage had been done. The neurotoxin was a fast acting agent. Green sticky mucous clogged his nostrils, and the king sensed his mind begin to drift into the space he had frequented not too many weeks ago when he had been a prisoner in his own castle.


He choked as blood snaked up his trachea and splattered over his tunic. Intense agony burned deep within his bowels and chest as the poison began destroying his internal organs. Zhirak had never experienced anything as profoundly painful as these last moments in his body. It made the drug-induced coma of the past seem like a day at the trailer park.


"The senator who had known him from birth shoved a foul-tasting cloth into his mouth."


Karizza Dralla



- The treacherous black dragon is in the middle of a battle with the Lord Sorceress and is
realising that perhaps she has bitten off more than she can chew.





Without further conversation, the Lord Sorceress closed her eyes and uttering something under her breath, whisked them upwards in a frantic transport spell that took all of them high into the stratosphere. She did not want their gigantic transitions destroying Castle Tempus.


“You all can still prevent this tragedy,” she pleaded once again, her voice carrying across the sky to reach her adversaries as they began beating their wings to stay aloft. Her melodious voice was tinged with sadness as, one by one, the dragons who had been her guests moments before trans-morphed from their scintillatingly sexual humanoid forms to the dreaded scaly, four limbed monsters that were synonymous with death and destruction. Shaking her head in sorrow, Anuriqqua involuntarily engaged a spell. It was ancient magic that had been subconsciously embedded into her genetic biology millennia before she had even been conceived.


The Lord Sorceress floated in front of them, observing them with casual concern. Her eyes were moist with compassion, her heart despising herself for what she would have to do next. The startled dragons watched in fascination as the tiny elf, who was no larger than one of their teeth, spoke more words and brought with her all sorts of glowing paraphernalia that had been part of the décor of the war room.

The six monstrous dragons gawked at their sudden change of scenery, shocked at the substantial sorcery of the Lord Sorceress as she had effortlessly whisked them high into the cold skies, barely demonstrating any strain from her actions. “Can you not see how powerful she is?” Karizza messaged her kin telepathically and fearfully. They ignored her as their bloodlust raged in their bodies and murder occupied their thoughts. In moments, elementals had wrenched themselves free from the curtains that had been their places of solitude and joined the Lord Sorceress in her impending battle.


The massive rock table unwound itself to become a majestic granite titan, its size dwarfing that of the Sorceress and growing until it stood almost two hundred meters high. Large enough to be a serious threat to the reptiles. Other bizarre and wonderful creatures also extricated themselves from the war-room furnishings and joined the Lord Sorceress in forming a line of defence against these invaders. Invaders who had broken an age old rule of hospitality by attacking their host. Crush, the rock elemental, observed his mistress for the order to attack, but none was forthcoming.


The dragons hovered uncertainly, their minds in disarray as the dwellers of Castle Tempus prepared for the upcoming battle. They had all initially planned to face the tiny Sorceress alone. These new allies were unknown factors in a conflict that had already physically displaced them and caused them to question their assessment of the powers of the castle guardian. Karizza anxiously waited for the elven queen to panic and flee, as was customary for any species that encountered the raw power and magnificence of dragons. In their proper form, the serpents generated a primal pheromone that caused most mortal creatures to scatter in dread.


The Lord Sorceress looked mournfully in her direction, her wondrous eyes growing duller in anticipation of the dawning conflict. Other magical allies of the Lord Sorceress from around the war room joined the fray as a silent call programmed into their existence was sounded. Karizza discovered a hollowness within her as the enormity of her decision and the magnitude of her cowardice and treachery crept through her fiery body and her tormented soul. It almost stopped her from beating her wings. Her mind was suspended and frozen in doubt and misgivings.


“Dramizza,” she snarled, holding up a gigantic, clawed hand, but it was too late. The battle was about to start.


"Her eyes were moist with compassion, her heart despising herself for what she would have to do next."


Archmage Zyskillion



- The devious Lord Sorceress adopted brother, who is the architect behind the dragon’s
uprising is seen here attempting to access the so called most powerful artefact in the civilised galaxy…





The Archmage Zyskillion skulked outside the War Room, his magic unable to penetrate the sanctity of his hated stepsister’s wards. He had watched keenly, albeit with trepidation, as Karizza and her five brethren had stridden arrogantly into the Lord Sorceress’ chambers, their humanoid forms a far cry from their monstrous dragon selves.

Zyskillion had cleverly brokered the meeting, his thoughts on making sure the stupid lizards inadvertently did his bidding. The ornately carved dark ochre door with its wooden elemental always freaked him out. The creature undulated just beneath the surface of the entrance, its fangs and claws pushing against the solid material like some imprisoned spirit. The organic elemental stared at him with a suspicious gaze, the creature in question bound to guard the entrance to the War Room, its ethereal form ordered to swim and skirt the tastefully carved entryway for eternity.


Zyskillion often wondered if these elementals despised their lot in life. After two failed attempts to sway them to his cause, he realised they were dangerously loyal to Anuriqqua and gave them a wide berth. He still limped from his encounter with Aer. She was HRH’s Grand Water Elemental and Battle General of the elemental battalion. She was a toxic waify concoction of sparkling azure hair and could appear as a siren or slutty six-foot elf or whatever her magic warranted. Miserable bitch. There was a terrible sound from the other side of the grand door. The wooden elemental paused, and Zyskillion watched as it deliberated its primary guarding function and perhaps the greater call of his sister being slaughtered.


Cursing Aer’s memory, he watched from under a hooded brow as the stupid spirit hovered in uncertainty. He then giggled evilly as the door elemental withdrew from its post. It sounded like cold air being sucked out of a bag. Seizing his opportunity, Zyskillion tentatively pushed at the wooden door. Finding no resistance, he crept his way into the War Room. He prepared his best defensive spell by holding his gnarled staff before him and whispering incantations over the rotten wood. He was a necromancer, after all. The mage gagged at the combined scent of lavender and cinnamon and hastily covered his crooked nose with his baggy sleeve. The great hall was silent and empty, with not one occupant. Where had they all gone? No matter. His prize floated unguarded in the distance, its usually resplendent glow strangely dim due to some unknown reason.


The Book of Dreams was an artefact to rival all others, coveted by the dragons, lusted after by mages and jealously shielded from the universe by the indomitable Lord Sorceress. Zyskillion had spent the last four hundred years plotting its acquisition. Now that the moment had finally arrived, he was unsure how to proceed. The dragons, his sister and those hateful elementals were all absent. Although this good fortune was inexplicable, the mage thought it best not to dally. He approached the imposing case of the tome. The Book of Dreams was suspended in a viscous liquid that changed colours continuously.


From ruby red to candy apple blue to ocean green, the aqueous solution throbbed and shifted with a life of its own. There was no physical door or barrier to this artefact; instead, it just floated above Zyskillion. He reached for it desperately, but the further his arm sank, the further the tome moved away. What the fuck was this? He had never known about this additional safety measure. Frustrated, he used his staff to try and reach the book, but it stayed just out of reach, like a sticky sweet under a cupboard. It evaded you just when you thought you had it in your grasp. Zyskillion waited until it swam back into view, snatched at it and missed again. “Oh, for Master’s sake, what now?”


"The Book of Dreams was an artefact to rival all others, coveted by the dragons"


Lord Prince Xayenne



- The Lord Sorceress entitled and arrogant heir is in for a rude awakening
as his lustful escapade is rudely interrupted as he is accused of murdering his mother…





The violet beam from the clouded moon lightly illuminated the ornately decorated four-poster bed. Elaborate wooden carvings intricately crawled their way along the priceless item’s base. It recounted a lurid tale of a well-endowed elf being chased by frolicking maidens in a haunted forest. The imagery was extremely visceral and did not leave much to the imagination, as each carefully carved effigy demonstrated one sexual act after another as the elf fornicated his way through the entire tribe of curvy and libidinous maidens.


On the enigmatic bed, the moon’s penumbra highlighted the current conquest, who lay in blissful surrender, spent and resembling a sleeping vision. She was the typical stereotype of elven perfection. The woman flaunted velvety smooth skin and, coupled with her unblemished anatomy, oozed sexual curvaceous enticement. The other occupant in the luxurious suite sat in shadow. He calmly observed his latest triumph. His slim yet well-toned body lounged on an embroidered chair. Xayenne gently sipped an exotic, bright green wine while wondering about what he would do with this delicate flower next. His active mind played through the last sexual encounter with this stunning specimen spread languidly on the black silken sheets before him.


He arose lightly from the chair and plucked a fire rose from the vase in the dim corner of the room. He smiled to himself as another deviant idea entered his stimulated mind. He moved lightly towards the bed, his elven heritage making each footstep as graceful as his latest conquest. As he neared the mattress, he tore a fire petal from the flower. The nature of the rose was magical; it would appear as a flower on fire until plucked. Once it was removed from its liquid space, the heat dissipated quickly, and the flower turned to ash. By plucking the flower, it would slowly lose its heat, giving the prince ample time to apply its warmth on the already awakened woman. She turned teasingly onto her back, allowing the prince an unobstructed view of her shapely breasts and flat, toned belly leading down to the pleasurable hairless triangle below.


The prince was gently kissing her erect nipple and had started moving his hand down her leg when the sound of booted feet stomping through the corridor outside his suite caught his attention. He paused and cocked an ear in the direction of the harsh sound. He shifted his focus to the door as the familiar hum of a spell being cast disturbed the peace. Xayenne felt his skin crawl as a combat spell was engaged. His nonchalance turned to horror as the ornately carved door to his room seemed to initially bulge towards them and then withdraw. The prince tried to move out of the way, but it exploded towards them in a hail of splinters. The prince shielded his eyes, and part of his body covered the woman, but they were both still struck by a sizeable number of wooden chips. The force of the spell had almost vaporised the door, so thankfully, the fragments that struck him were tiny. A few irritating splinters still pierced the skin wherever it struck. The woman screamed as the guards rushed in.


The warlock leading the guards created a force shield around himself and his unit. He glared at the prince, his eyes blazing with anger. “You are under arrest for the premeditated murder of your mother, the Lord Sorceress Anuriqqua. Seize him.” The prince looked wildly at the warlock captain as he removed enchanted bracelets from his red cloak and handed them to one of the guards. Regaining his composure, the prince had started to open his mouth when the guard backhanded him across his face, cutting his lip and silencing any query that had begun to surface. As the ringing in his ears subsided, he was aware of armoured hands placing the enchanted manacles on his arms and legs.


The splinters lodged further into his skin with each movement, causing more bleeding along his naked body.



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