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|  | | A Curious Odyssey
A faint trace of blue could be seen
A glimmer of light in the darkness
We pray it be not a false promise of hope
Bishop St Pauce AD 1491
He dreamed he was a child – a shimmer of blue feathering the tattered wings of the stranger leading him by the hand.
He dreamed he was a young man standing naked on a patch of white sand; the burning sun in a flawless blue sky oiling his flesh with sweat as he faced an enemy he had no words to describe.
Sometimes, when the moon hung low, and the night lay dead and still, he dreamed ghosts in the sky jerking him awake; throat dry, heart thudding like a hammer in his chest. He dreamed old memories; but he didn’t know that. They were just dreams, mental trash he told himself.
His scho | |  | | A Trace of Blue
Fleeing from years of spiritual abuse Danny Blue is running for his life. Only he has nowhere to hide from nightmare visions locked inside his head even as something dark and sinister remorselessly hunts him down.
Spiritually abused Danny Blue stumbles through the nightmare of his life falling easy prey to a hunting darkness that has searched though centuries to find him and destroy the slumbering power of knowledge locked inside ancient memories. Memories Danny can no longer recall of blood and sand, rage and fear and a certain mystery surrounding a faint trace of blue that also hunts. Finally with nowhere left to run, Gaunt Man howling at his heels, an old priest from the Church On The Hill offers Danny hope and a weirding redemption, that enables him to relive ancient memories or Centurion Marcus Fla | |  | | B W Harding’s Bar Room Tales
The third and final instalment in my trilogy of Western's.
The Gunfighter
The Outlaw
B W Harding's Bar Room Tales
Stories of courage, of honour and friendship, of love and selfless devotion, of hard times and determination, stories of endurance, of humour and tears, narrated in simple direct ways often laconically, often self deprecating, wry good humour, rarely with bitterness and never with complaint. Men and women the ancient Greeks would readily identify with: But unlike the ancient Greeks immortalised in myth and legend, who will remember the stories, the trials and hardships, the battles and the successes out here in the vast reaches of the western lands if I do not write them down as they are narra | |  | | Brotherhood of the Book
An epic novel of indomitable courage, mystic devotion, hidden histories. Secrets and ancient mysteries of an elite group of warrior scholars who serve and defend the world's oldest fraternity. Custodians of a mysterious history both temporal and spiritual. Whilst ever warding against an Adversary prepared to sacrifice nations to destroy a single storehouse of knowledge.
Some 14,000 years ago a race of warrior artisans built a massive city of stone that came to be known as the City of Origins. And then during the City Nation's third millennium the city is besieged by an overwhelming force of invaders. Battling desperately against odds, betrayed from within, the city finally falls. Few survive. One survivor however who is both a warrior and an acclaimed scholar determines to recover and preserve thousands of years of written records and books of knowledge hidden deep beneath the ruins of his former home. Thereby setting in motion a series of events culminat | |  | | Celtic Sunset
Narrative account of a Druid's struggle to save his people and the ancient wisdom from utter annihilation as the legions of Rome advance destroying everything Celtic in their path.
Ancient scrolls found within a Celtic tomb where no such tomb has a right to be, reveal hitherto unknown Druidic knowledge concealed within a brutal, sometimes profound first hand account of a Druid's bitter, despairing struggle to halt the advance of Caesar's all but invincible legions. Finally after years of unremitting warfare, the Druid abandons his people to their fate in a last desperate attempt to save the only surviving written work of the Druidic Four Fold Way. He escapes. Crossing the sea to a vast distant land once well known to early Celtic sea traders. A land, Rome does not rule o | |  | | Dark Wind in Eden
"In the face of great and terrible adversity, when all you own is yourself and the earth beneath you is divided, sometimes a Dark Wind will blow."
Isian the Elder
For more than ten centuries "Mohenjarro" the"City of Life" lay moribound in its inflexible traditions, oblivious to a small, gathering evil inexorably diminishing the spiritual vitality of the people.
And then one day, more by accident than design, a young inexperienced warrior with the heart and soul of a scholar, shatters the mainstay of a thousand years of tradition. Whithin hours he is tried, condemned and cast out. Dazed and bewildered by the speed and severity of his conviction, the young outlaw, wanders aimlessly, devoid of hope and direction until he chances upon a hidden valley, known to the enigmatic inhabitants as the "Valley of a Million Years".
He falls in love with Lanaya, a woman of the valley, but his love has nowhere to go,no hope of life.
Disillusioned he turns away only to face a shocking truth concerning his own people. He determines to return to the city, reveal the truth and unmask the evil lurking within. But no one will heed or otherwise acknowledge he exists.
Humiliated and angry he returns to the wild, an easy target for the machinations of evil. But all is not what it seems as the young outlaw continues to lose more than he gains in the bittersweet breath of a Dark Wnd in Eden.
| |  | | Distant Voices
I was seven years old when the Druid claimed me. Twenty years later I stood second to the Chief Druid of the Arverni Celts. The Arverni trade agreement with Rome was more than two hundred years old. Both Roman and Celt profited. Arverni farms stood green and fertile. Fields of ripening grain stretched to the horizon. Our days are red and blue – these are the best of days.
When the legions invaded we stood confused, asking why? Finally with nothing left to lose I abandoned Druidry and led the fighting men of the Arverni against the legions. We knew we could not win. We knew we were doomed but – we fought anyway. Six years later I fled the land of my birth with a price on my head. The Arverni no more than distant voices in the sky. The Romans kill everything. I fled to the coast and secured a berth aboard a Veneti deep sea sailing ship. The voyage was long and not without incident and I thank the Creator that I lived to reach the shores of the Far Land (America BC). I was not born to be a sailor man. I disembarked with the intention of forging a new life for myself in this vast, rugged land.
Season followed season – the haunt in my soul for my once people lived on. I began to despair, seemingly I am fated to live and die alone. And then one day in the light of a blood red sun I stood at the edge of a vast plain – a sea of grass. The dusky light of the waning sun stained the grass pink. The plain reached out towards forever. I carry a long blade of iron. My head is full of mysteries and secrets; and for all I know, I am the last surviving Druid on earth.
I met darkness and light out on the plains
I fought side by side with painted warriors
I stood friend to a Holy Man and against all odds I found Love!!
| |  | | In Shadows Fall
During an Age of Crusade
Christendom was in turmoil.
The devil was loose in the shape and form of the dread Inquisition and its able captain; Descarbo, who will stop at nothing to gain possession of the Christos Letters, and use the authority vested in the precious documents to reshape Christianity according to dark dictates and the terrible rite of the Blood of Doves. Unopposed, he rules Christendom in all but name, The Holy See silent and powerless.
Finally only one man stands between Descarbo and the looming collapse of the faith; Morgan de Montfort Knight of the Cross who shaped himself more, and yet less, that he intended. A cold, brooding knight who disdains the very faith he champions. Yet serve the faith he must, if only to protect the Hidden Fraternity who will be wiped out in the blink of an eye should Christendom come tumbling down. To protect one he must save the other, therefore he has no choice but to gain possession of the Christos Letters.
Old Celtic blood flows in his veins. The spirit of his ancestor Dunnorix resides in his bones.
Morgan de Montfort
Knight of Dark Renown.
"In Shadows Fall is availabel from Waikiki Book Exchange, Stargate Shopping Centre, 78 Charthouse Rd, Waikiki. email waikikibooks@hotmail.com "
| |  | | The Egyptian
The Egyptian through whose veins flows twice royal blood is condemned from birth to live out his life imprisoned within a subterranean labyrinth of stone, victim of a false prophesy. Years later with the help of a grizzled veteran of the Blue Crane Legions, a priest of Horus and Nafraya, initiate of the Isis Mysteries, he breaks free and attempts to pierce the mystery of his life.
His mother was descended from the line of Sheba. His father, Ahmose, ruler of the Two Lands, God's regent on earth. If acknowledged one day he would rule Egypt. therefore he must die. Even so not even mighty Pharaoh dared spill the infants twice royal blood. Falling victim to a false prophecy, both mother and son are condemned to live out their lives sealed within a vast subterranean labyrinth. The infant grows, his mother dies. Contrary to all expectations the boy thrives and unknowingly builds up incredible inner spiritual strength. Years pass, then one day soldiers drag him forth from his d | |  | | The Gunfighter
Cattle graze where once the great buffalo herds moved across the land. Towns sprang up; people came from the four corners of the earth, spreading out across the vast plains. The era was raw, wild and bustling.
Of law there was little or none. Men lived and died by their word, by their courage and stubborn will to survive. Some came to build, to found cattle and railroad empires. Others dug for gold and silver some ploughed the fertile soil, planted crops and tamed the wild river. Others used the gun and shocking violence to take what they otherwise cared not to earn by dint of toil and sweat. And there were those who hired out to hunt them down, solitary, lonely men of few words.
The Gunfighter – The Red Sun rising.
He was young when he first hired out, but that was long ago. Times were changing and all he wanted was a place of his own, to sit in the sun and slowly fade away on the wind. He was an aging man who had left his name and reputation far behind him. He was different now, settled and at peace.
Then one day he received a letter that chilled him to the bone. The letter was addressed to the man he used to be. The old gunfighter was long past his prime and sometimes his hands trembled like leaves on the aspen, but he had no choice other than to answer the letter to find out who wanted him dead and why, only to find nothing is what it seems.
| |  | | The Outlaw
The Outlaw
The Boston writer B W Harding wrote lurid, over the top dime novels. His stories sold well and continued to do so for many years. He was no longer young when one day his publisher informed him, with regret, that the dime novel was dead and advised him to write about real flesh and blood heroes. BW agreed but he was perverse and decided to write about an outlaw whose exploits, according to various barroom tales up and down the country, were legendary.
But first he had to find him, to learn the truth behind allegations concerning stolen gold, murder and retribution and at the same time solve the mystery of why the last surviving descendants of a now vanished desert people revered him as a “Red Sun” — and how hard could it be to find one man — only BW had never travelled the western lands. He knew nothing of the desert, the outlaw trail or the Comanche.
The truth lurking behind the myth would change him. The outlaw’s story, when revealed, more compelling than fiction.
| |  | | The Verres Letter
Jeshua, the one the Good Abbot calls Jesus.
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