“This
book will help you to escape the mundane world for a while, but it
can do more than that. It can teach you the importance of love and
the joys of serving others. It can do this all in the background
while the story entertains you with its complex societies and a range
of emotions to keep you reading.”
—John
M. Olsen, 2020-2021 President of the League of Utah Writers
Goodreads
* Amazon
Excerpt #1
R'Venin awoke with a start, groaning against the pain, as a million daggerflies raged war under the skin along his left side. He tried to sit up, but the assault increased with every attempt to shift his weight. With gritted teeth, he clawed at the cotton-like bedding, trying to reposition as his eyes darted around the room. With bleary vision, he took in his surroundings.
He found himself on an oval-shaped mattress suspended from a domed ceiling by four, thick braided vines, a half-wing above the ground. The round walls tapered upward until they met a circular shaft rising into the only visible source of light.
From directly overhead, a shaft of light gleamed down, casting a warm glow across his exposed skin. He looked down to find himself naked save for his breechcloth.
Moss-stained bandages squeezed his wounds. He tilted his head toward his gauze-encased shoulder and winced. Unwelcome tears filled his eyes from the scent of moldy vomit.
My clothes! My armor! My crown!
Panicked, he searched around the room until his eyes found a pile of black and red crumpled against the wall. Trails of dried green blood streaked the ebony surfaces.
The walls, at first glance, seemed to be made out of sun-bleached tree bark. But as R’Venin’s eyes focused, an interwoven root system coated with a layer of clay resolved from the blur. Rolling onto his side, he caught a glimpse of a lush grassy floor dappled with wildflowers reaching for the sunlight. R'Venin took in a quick breath as the daggerflies protested their nests' disturbance, while the woody scent of forest decay and pollen filled his nasal slits.
R'Venin went limp. He collapsed on the soft padding, kicking up puffs of dust that swirled and danced in the pillar of light. Relaxing, he let the fiery swarm go back to a dull buzz. Tipping his head against the mattress, he spied the portal to his little egg-shaped universe. A thick tapestry of purples and greens inlaid with dozens of four-pointed stars of varying sizes covered the entrance. The different points of each star displayed a unique symbol, four of which he recognized.
Mountain. Tree. Fire. Rain. The four elements of Alchemy. But, what's that fifth symbol in the center?
R'Venin closed his eyes and took a slow breath through his nose, filling his lungs with dusty air. Forcing his hearts to slow, he focused his ears on the sounds coming from beyond the tapestry. Metal clanging on metal. Wood clunking on stone. Mumbled, barely audible voices. Chanting.
"Where am I?" he whispered.
"You're awake," a raspy voice replied from beyond his view. "Good. We can finally begin."
R'Venin's head swiveled in every non-painful direction he could, looking for the one from which the voice had come but he spotted no one. The sound of stones dumped onto lush turf arose from underneath his suspended perch, followed by a grunt and the cracking of joints.
"Who are you? Where are you?" he called as his pulse raced. He returned his focus toward the tapestry again, watching for the fabric to move and reveal his visitor.
"I'm Kar'Nevala, and I'm right here!"
"Ah!" R'Venin jumped at the kindly voice suddenly coming from his left. His head spun while his body recoiled. "AUGH!" he screamed as the daggerflies renewed their sub-dermal warfare. He winced as he reached across with his right hand to grasp his other shoulder.
"Where am I?" He hissed through gritted teeth and watery eyes.
"You're in the sanctuary of The Three Mothers," said the maternal voice as he felt a light cloth wiping the sweat from his face. "Just relax. No harm will come to you here."
Excerpt #2
R’Venin, Ka’Ala, and every other mourner backed a wingspan away as Sha’Anti marched around the pile, stopping to ignite the wood at every third step. He stopped his procession near R’Venin, jabbed his staff into the ground, and raised his wings to the sky.
The encircling crowd followed his example, raising their wings and then gently fanning the flames. Sha’Anti lifted his gaze toward the stars. They flickered and disappeared, chased away by the growing blaze.
R’Venin reached for Ka’Ala’s hand as the man next to him took his. This action continued until a single chain made by hundreds of people spiraled into the darkness.
R’Venin bowed his head and closed his eyes. Petitions from other funeral pyres, led by the Elders, faded to murmurs as their words reached his ears.
“Great Windfather,” Sha'Anti's voice carried over the assembly. The first row of people repeated his petition, followed by the second and moving outward like a ripple on still waters.
“We come before you under the three mothers to mourn a terrible loss.”
How can you watch and do nothing?
“We have lost our hearts. The sacred tree of Ch’Hotee.”
The V’Jeeta rage across the world.
“We have lost mothers and fathers.”
They destroy anything they can’t control.
“Most importantly, we have lost nearly an entire generation of children.”
How can you let one flock prosper while another roasts in their fire?
“We turn our hearts to you, beloved Windfather.”
I don’t know if I believe peace is the answer anymore.
“Comfort us in this tragedy.”
The only comfort will be the end of their terror.
“Speak peace to the hearts of those who have suffered most.”
Their suffering is yet to begin.
“Whisper to us your wisdom.”
I will use the unnatural wisdom.
“Help us to understand.”
They will understand sorrow beyond anything they’ve ever known.
“Help us to accept your will.”
They will never suspect my plan.
“Help us to forgive.”
They deserve no mercy.
“Gather us under your mighty wings.”
They will fade like water in the desert.
“Protect us from the raging storm.”
I will deliver a deluge in which they will drown.
“Carry our dear ones to the Eternal Tree.”
Cast my enemies to the frozen wasteland.
“Let them feast in the never-ending forest.”
Let them starve and thirst forever.
“Let their hearts become the wandering stars in the sky.”
Let their hearts turn to stone—useless pebbles on the expanse.
“Guide us always. As the wind blows.”
“As the wind blows,” Ka’Ala repeated along with the entire meadow.
R’Venin kept silent as he opened his eyes and found Ka’Ala watching him with knitted brow.
“What is it?” he said.
She shook her head. “I’m not sure.”
Excerpt #3
Slender columns rose around the chambers’ periphery, separating the central atria from a belt of ten alcoves along the circumference. Nine of the cavities, two wingspans wide and five tall, featured a different statue dedicated to a Granite Spires' clan leader. K’Marot leaned against a column demarking the First Tower alcove, arms crossed. He nodded as R’Venin’s eyes met his, the scars across his face distorted by shadows. Behind him, K’Marot’s guard surrounded the monument featuring a warrior with wings spread wide, carrying a spiked mace in each hand. K’Marot bore a striking resemblance to the statue.
How many generations of my father’s line have ruled the Spires?
In every other alcove, seated around each effigy, an entourage wearing the clan’s markings talked behind their hands as they watched and listened to the leaders. Frescoes and bas-relief sculptures covered every surface detailing each faction’s history back to the rise of P’Phet as the first seer of Pirth’Vee Grah.
One lie after another, if you believe the Ch'Hota and Pra'Acheen.
The tenth chamber lacked any embellishments, every surface pockmarked, with only the fractured base of a long-forgotten statue remained.
Much like the spot on which I stand.
R’Venin looked down at his feet while the shouting continued. Polished marble spread to the walls from the worn-down remnants of a pillar, the girth of his chest, on which he stood a feather’s width off the floor.
On either side of him, a circle of elevated perches, each varying in height and topped with a padded throne, rose above his head. K’Rawin, directly across the ring, sat atop the tallest pillar at ten wings above the floor, a gilded mace resting across his lap. On K’Rawin’s right, the patriarch of the second tower sat one wing depth lower. On the king’s left, the third tower’s leader sat two wings below. The pattern continued back and forth until R’Venin’s position.
The commotion grew like towering waterfalls after a monsoon until the king raised his mace. Hisses filled the room then quickly died, leaving only the sound of fluttering sunshades overhead.
“Continue,” K’Rawin said, pointing his scepter at R’Venin.
“Thank you, Father.” R’Venin cleared his throat. “Every season, we fight over the Crimson Maize. Why?”
Nervous laughter erupted as V’Jeeta glared at each other, some shrugging or shaking their heads.
Yes, it’s an obvious question, but one that needs scrutiny.
Gu’Usa, the leader of the Second Tower, leaned forward. “For the silk.”
R’Venin pointed at him, locking eyes. “Right. We fight to get the most silk. But why the silk? Why not the grain from which the silk grows?”
Gu’Usa held out his arms, looking around. “Everyone in the Spires knows this. This is pointless.”
“It has medicinal properties.” Sha’Atir of the Eighth Tower broke in. “Why do you ask such an obvious question?”
R’Venin ignored Sha’Atir’s inquiry. “How do we use the silk in our alchemy?” he pressed.
Murmurs grew from all around. Various answers rose above the din.
“Closing scars faster.”
“Strengthening feeble wings.”
“Alleviating pain.”
“Increasing pleasure.”
“Opening our minds to dreams.”
“Yes, yes.” R’Venin waved his hands for quiet. “But what is the primary use for the silk in the spires?”
“To increase our numbers,” K’Rawin said. “To replenish our ranks season after season, to rebuild our armies after each harvest from the devastation brought upon us by Ch'Hota filth. To overcome the effects of the White Claw, reducing our seed.”
Angry roars erupted, filling the room with threats of battle and vows of victory. Warriors pounded fists and swords on their chest plates, spears against shields. R’Venin scanned the crowd, waiting for the sentiment to dissipate.
K’Rawin raised his royal mace again, hushing the rally.
“Do you know how the Ch’Hota and Pra’Acheen use the silk?”
“We don’t care how those mongrels use it!” An unseen warrior shouted from the gallery. The war cries built up to a roar until K’Rawin stood, his eyes scanning the crowd.
“Do not interrupt my son again.” He growled. Sitting down, he laid the scepter across his lap and nodded to R’Venin.
R’Venin gave a quick nod in return. “They use the silk for all the same purposes as we do, with one exception. They don’t use it to increase their seed. They’re not affected by White Claw like we are, not nearly to the same degree. And it doesn’t affect them until further into their late seasons.”
Low grumbling churned like a rock slide.
“What are you proposing?” Pra’Kop of the Fifth Tower said, standing and gesturing around the room. “That we live like the Ch’Hota? That we embrace their traditions? That we give up on the only means we have to ensure our survival?”
“No. No.” R’Venin took a breath. “And, yes.”
I
grew up in the small, rural town of Boring, OR with my six brothers
and sisters.
After
graduating from High School in Gresham, OR, I attended BYU-ID and
received my Associate's Degree in Pre-Med. After that, I returned to
Portland, OR, and attended Portland State University, where I earned
my Bachelor's Degree in Biology/Pre-Med before changing my career
track to Architecture.
I
completed my second Bachelor's Degree in Architecture at Portland
State University before achieving my Master of Architecture Degree
from the University of Utah in Salt Lake City, UT.
After
graduation, my wife and I moved to Phoenix, Arizona, where we adopted
four children over the next eight years.
I
currently live in the Salt Lake City area, where I am an Associate
Member of the American Institute of Architects (AIA) and the League
of Utah Writers.
My
other interests include movies, singing, and motorcycles
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