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Brendan Carroll, Novelist
Category:
Fantasy
Publisher: Brendan Carroll
ISBN-10: 1478292393
Type: Fiction
Pages: 270
Copyright: Jul 23, 2012
ISBN-13: 9781478292395
Price: $3.99 (eBook)
The Knight of Death is forced into a secret alliance with Abaddon, the Destroyer in his quest to rid the world of the Great and Horrible Queen of Babylon. Though the plan is a good one, the timing is terrible.
The Knight of Death is forced into a secret alliance with Abaddon, the Destroyer in his quest to rid the world of the Great and Horrible Queen of Babylon. Though the plan is a good one, the timing is terrible. The entire world is threatened with destruction from above as an errant celestial body takes aim at earth. Mark's mortal doppelganger places himself in grave danger attempting to divert the worldwide disaster from harming his precious Sophia. Meanwhile, the rest of the Order and half the remaining powers in the world are disagreeing loudly about what should be done with the Ark of the Covenant. On top of everything, an unscrupulous Vatican official is working a plan which will place him at the top of the Papal See and give him the power he craves to rule the world from Rome. Lemarik uses an Old Testament method for defeating the impending flood, the angelic warriors release their human comrades into even worse danger, the Tuathan healer lands in a world of trouble and even Abaddon cannot escape a terrible fate when he tries to befriend the Queen Mother in her lair.
Excerpt
Catharine de Goth closed the door to her bedroom quietly and tiptoed to the balcony railing. Below her, in the great hall one of the castle guards was setting up for the nightly music lessons. The island ‘orchestra’ had grown to fairly grand proportions compared to the number of inhabitants. Almost everyone played or sang in the band, which had been put together over a number of years. There were pipers and drummers, fiddlers and flutes, guitars and mandolins and even a harp. Catharine especially like the dulcimer and sometimes played with the impromptu gatherings. Tonight, however, she was especially mournful. It was her birthday and no one knew other than herself. She had even lied to Lucio and told him she did not know her birthday because he did not know his precise date of birth. They simply celebrated his birthday at Easter with an extra cake and a bottle of whatever they could manage, but now he was gone and she had been unable to ‘see’ him since the comet’s debris had clouded the atmosphere and disrupted the natural flow of energy through the earth’s ley lines. Tonight, she would go up on the roof and check the signs. Tonight, perhaps, she would hear something of her love.
She walked down the balcony and climbed the spiral staircase leading to the roof. She made her way nimbly up and over the wall to the flatter roof where the old chapel sat, its windows glinting darkly in the moonlight. The sight of the place always made her shudder and it was now inconceivable to think she had spent so many months confined within its macabre interior. She pulled her sweater closely about her and wished she had worn her overcoat. The westerly wind blowing in off the big island was colder than she had imagined possible. Skirting the chapel, she made her way to the southeastern corner of the keep’s flat roof and looked away to the south and east in the direction she knew her love could be found. She had no idea where he was precisely or what he was doing, but she knew he was not dead. Whatever had occurred in the Middle East as a result of the Centaur strike, he had survived. That much she knew, but how, was another unknown.
Closing her eyes, she concentrated her attention on Lucio’s face and tried to envision him in her mind in every detail in preparation of an attempt at making a mental connection with him. She smiled as the image of the laughing Italian sprang to life easily on her mental canvas. His smile was beautiful, even with the terrible scar on his cheek, and his eyes sparkled when she returned the smile. She could almost touch him. Almost smell him. Almost hear him say…
“Santa Maria! It’s freezing up here!”
Catharine shrieked as a cold hand gripped her arm. She spun around to find Lucio’s unsmiling face very close to her. He was almost blue with cold and without a stitch of clothing.
“Lucio!” Catharine shrieked again and wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him frantically, saying his name over and over.
He pushed her away after a moment and then shrugged slightly in embarrassment.
“Oh my God! I’m sorry… wait!” She pulled off her sweater, and he wrapped it around the coldest parts. “When did you… where did you… how long have you been up here?”
“I just arrived,” he jerked his head toward the chapel where one of the doors was now standing open. “Do you know there is nothing in there? Nothing at all? I thought I was going to have to make a spectacle of myself… again.”
Catharine took his hand and then they hurried toward the stairs together, laughing like two schoolchildren up to no good.
((((((((((((()))))))))))))
“Abaddon?” Mark Andrew used the toe of his boot to nudge the crumpled figure of the dark angel. He lay in a disheveled heap in the middle of the plush Persian rug. After a moment or two, he raised his head slowly and looked at Mark. He had taken on his original form and looked very much like the old style image of the devil from the illustrations of a medieval Bible. His leathery wings were tucked around his equally leathery body and his scaled face and red eyes were wet with tears. It was a highly disturbing and incongruous sight to see the devil crying.
Mark knelt on one knee beside him and looked into his glowing eyes.
“Abaddon? Are you all right?” He asked again.
“I am ruined, Master.” Abaddon hung his head and pressed his clawed hands against his face. The pain in his voice actually made Mark’s heart hurt.
“What happened? Why are you like this?” Mark looked around the deserted bedchamber. It was opulent, fit for a queen, even in desperate times.
Only moments before, he had been forced to hide in a rat infested fissure opened by the bombardment, when the queen mother had come from the room, leaving behind the piteous Lord of Scorpions. Abaddon’s long, spiked tail twitched and swished back and forth in agitation.
“She made me,” he wailed. “She made me take off my human form, Master. She wanted to see my hideous nature.”
“You’re not hideous,” Mark lied and cringed before standing up. “You’re just…. Abysmal. Some might find you quite attractive.”
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