The Resistance

 

 

 

Title: Dreamwalkrs

 

Author: Tiaan Lubbe

 

Genre: YA Fantasy / Adventure

 

 

 

“You walk the bridges between two worlds, between reality and dreams, Ciso.”

 

“You are a Dreamwalker”

 

Narciso di Angelo, a sixteen-year-old boy, living on the streets of Rome thinks he is the only one that can walk in other’s dreams.

 

He’s not.

 

When a mysterious and dark woman makes her appearance in one of his dreamwalks, he is rescued from her clutches by Project Somnus, a secret underground United Nations organisation, that recruits and trains children with his gifts, using them to fight against and prevent worldwide terrorist threats.

 

Here Narciso learns more of his abilities and where they come from as well as what it means to be part of a family and a home.

 

But, as the threat of the mysterious woman and the terrorist organisation Tantibus increases, he also learns what it is like to lose this.

 

“In dreams we live. In reality we dream.”

 

Author Bio

 

 

 

Tiaan Lubbe lives in Pretoria, South Africa where he spends his time teaching little monsters, directing

 

plays, doing what he calls writing and dreaming up the future. Mostly all at once.

 

Links

 

Ebook Pre-order link: https://www.amazon.com/Dreamwalkers-Oneiroi-Legacies-Book-1-ebook/dp/B0718ZQMJB/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1493639551&sr=8-3&keywords=dreamwalkers

 

Facebook Page Link: www.facebook.com/tiaanlubbeauthor

 

Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/Tiaan-Lubbe/e/B00NRQE7PI/

 

Goodreads Page: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/35055312-dreamwalkers

 

 

 

 

 

Dreamwalkers

 

By Tiaan Lubbe

 

Excerpt:

 

Commander Sawyer comes to stand in front of us and the pods. “You will be entering a dreamscape together,” he says so matter-of-factly that I almost believe this isn’t a big deal. “Your objective is to retrieve a single sentence that will be held as a secret in the deepest part of the subconscious. You must travel through all the landscapes as a team, supporting each other and working together through the numerous obstacles to achieve this objective. Understood?”

 

“Understood,” everyone except for me says in unison.

 

“Understood,” I say a moment later. Then I realise that I actually don’t understand. He might just as well have been talking German. “Wait,” I say, trying to exude respect in my voice as I’ve never done before. I don’t know if it works, but I continue. “How’s this going to work? How are we going into a dream together? Plus I’m not tired, how will I…”

 

“di Angelo!” Agent Knight scolds under her breath.

 

“No, Agent Knight. He’s quite right to ask,” the Commander says plainly. “Sorry, Mr di Angelo. I forgot you have not had the time to be properly introduced to our technology and methods as much as the others have. Though I’m afraid you’ll learn most of it through actual and physical practice, I will be glad to give you a quick run-through. Will that set you at ease?”

 

“We’re wasting time,” Loghan murmurs from the side. Agent Knight quickly silences him with a look. The Commander ignores it, his eyes trained on me, waiting for a response.

 

“Yes, that would,” I say.

 

“Very well,” the Commander says and points to the pod next to me. “Those are sensory deprivation pods, or as we like to call them, Dreampods. They are designed to deprive you from any sensory experiences so that you can enter the dreamscapes quicker and without distraction. Basically, it hastens your process of falling asleep and reaching the REM period where most dreaming is done.”

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About the Book

Title: The Hooligans of Kandahar

Author: Joseph Kassabian

Genre: Nonfiction / War Memoir

During the peak years of the Afghanistan War, a group of soldiers is dropped by helicopter into the remote mountains outside of Kandahar City. Mismanaged and overlooked by command, how they survive is largely up to them. In the birthplace of the Taliban, some men lose their sanity, others their humanity. They are The Hooligans.

Written in the months and years following his deployment, Joseph Kassabian recounts his time in the isolated and dangerous country of Afghanistan. Pulling no punches, The Hooligans of Kandahar is a sobering, saddening, and often sarcastic first-hand account of America's War on Terror.

Links

Amazon (ebook) : https://www.amazon.com/Hooligans-Kandahar-Joseph-Kassabian-ebook/dp/B0719T996H/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1496313455&sr=8-1&keywords=the+hooligans+of+kandahar

Amazon (Paperback): https://www.amazon.com/Hooligans-Kandahar-Joseph-Kassabian/dp/0692754695/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=1496313455&sr=8-1

Book Excerpts

Excerpt #1.

Generally, when our squad went on patrol for hours at a time, we would set up Observation Points, or OPs. OPs were areas that were slightly defensible and allowed us to watch a large area while remaining concealed from sight. That’s what the manual says about OPs, anyway.

What we really used them for was to duck away in the night for a few hours and take turns napping. A few soldiers stood watch while the others removed their overbearing gear and lay down in the dirt to catch a few minutes of much-needed sleep.

The official mission was to watch over a Taliban “rat line,” or trail used for smuggling weapons into the area. We had watched the ratline and raided various houses in the last few months and found nothing. We were all pretty sure that the ratline didn’t actually exist anywhere outside of Scream’s head.

Since Scream was adamant that something was going to happen in that village, he kept ordering us to sit in the darkness and stare at nothing.

We established a primary OP on an elevated ridge that overlooked the trail that Scream was certain was a pathway for whatever nefarious deeds the Taliban did at night. During our first ten-hour watch of the area, Walrus—who was one of the laziest people I’ve ever met—found a couch in one of the cornfields. He dragged the furniture up the ridge and into the OP, giving the position its name.

It was at that OP that some of us older soldiers had to teach the other guys the art of soldiering in the pitch darkness. Smoking without being seen became a skill. You could easily see a cigarette’s lit cherry over a mile away. If you weren’t careful, you could give away your position while feeding your terrible vice.

You could stick your cigarette and lighter into your ration bag to light it. Then cup your hand around your mouth and cigarette when you need a hit to conceal yourself from whoever wants to blow your face off in the middle of the night. A few of us switched from smoking to chewing tobacco for night patrols. The first few times I tried it I puked on myself.

There was only one guy in our squad who didn’t smoke or dip—Slim, but he made up for it in the states with a drinking habit that would make Hemmingway suggest rehab

Excerpt #2.

We had to teach our soldiers real skills to survive at night as well. You would be surprised how much noise a soldier can make shambling through the darkness with all the gear we carry. We had to duct tape down anything that would rattle or clang off another piece of equipment and spray paint any little piece of metal that would catch the moonlight.

I knew a few guys who went above and beyond by not cleaning themselves for weeks in order to smell like the natives. Like the Taliban were out in the mountains trying to sniff us out of our hiding spots or something.

Excerpt #3.

At some point during the night, all hell broke loose. Guns started cracking to life. Machine guns and rockets started ripping through the air all over. Tracer rounds started tearing through the night from all sides about one hundred yards in front of them. They had no idea what was going on and no one was actually shooting at them. No one seemed to know that they were there. It was like they stumbled upon some random turf war in the middle of nowhere. The various militant groups that operated in our area—a strange mix of Islamic insurgents, smugglers, and gangs—routinely tried to kill each other. The Afghan security forces would shoot at anything that went bump in the night. It could have easily been two different Afghan Police patrols shooting at each other.

 

 

 

About the Book

Title: The Laird of Duncairn

Author: Craig Comer

Genre: Gaslamp Fantasy

The year is 1882 Scotland, and the auld alliance betwixt king and fey has long been forgotten. Men of science, backed by barons of industry, push the boundaries of technology. When Sir Walter Conrad discovers a new energy source, one that could topple nations and revolutionize society, the race to dominate its ownership begins. But the excavation and use of this energy source will have dire consequences for both humans and fey. For an ancient enemy stirs, awakened by Sir Walter’s discovery.

 

Outcast half-fey Effie of Glen Coe is the Empire’s only hope at averting the oncoming disaster. Effie finds herself embroiled in the conflict, investigating the eldritch evil spreading throughout the Highlands. As she struggles against the greed of mighty lords and to escape the clutches of the queen’s minions, her comfortable world is shattered. Racing to thwart the growing menace, she realizes the only thing that can save them all is a truce no one wants.

 

AUTHOR BIO:

Craig Comer is the author of the gaslamp fantasy novel THE LAIRD OF DUNCAIRN and co-author of the mosaic fantasy novel THE ROADS TO BALDAIRN MOTTE. His shorter works have appeared in several anthologies, including BARDIC TALES AND SAGE ADVICE and PULP EMPIRE VOLUME IV. Craig earned a Master’s Degree in Writing from the University of Southern California. He enjoys tramping across countries in his spare time, preferably those strewn with pubs and castles.

 

LINKS:

https://craigcomer.com/

https://www.amazon.com/Laird-Duncairn-Fey-Matter/dp/1944728163

https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/the-laird-of-duncairn/id1219867674

https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/the-laird-of-duncairn

https://www.facebook.com/craigscomer/

https://twitter.com/CraigComer

 

Book Excerpts

EXCERPT #1

“What regiment are these soldiers from?” asked Effie. “They don’t appear Scottish.”

Murray’s lips twitched, almost in a grin. “Does it make a difference to you?” She tried to think of a response, but her tongue tied. He couldn’t contain his mirth. “I believe you already know the answer. You strike me as a rather intelligent woman.”

“Don’t let your general hear you say that.”

“The intelligent part, or the use of the word woman?”

Both, she thought. She was woman enough in most men’s eyes, yet her blood was different, and that kept her from ever truly being human. At least in the eyes of people like Edmund Glover and Sir Walter Conrad. And Murray. That thought shouldn’t bother her any more than the others, but it did.

“Newcastle, then,” she said.

“Northumberland Hussars brought up to quell the fey disturbances,” Murray confirmed.

She smirked. The volunteer cavalry unit was well-known for putting down overly-ambitious unions of miners and fishermen. In 1831, it had even fired on its own countrymen. “To protect the interests of the Hostmen, you mean. It is their money that drives this sudden interest in the Highlands, isn’t it? For centuries they have been nothing but barons of the coal trade. Why do they now back a man like Sir Walter Conrad?”

Murray blinked, an expression of surprise crossing his face. “Surely you’ve heard the chatter in the coffeehouses? Coal has had its day. Its supremacy won’t last forever, and the Hostmen want to keep their true monopoly, that on energy. Money and energy drive the world, and there isn’t one without the other nearby.”

“So they fund research into alternatives.”

“And work against other sources they can’t dominate.” He raised an eyebrow. “Namely, stardust.”

The insinuation was clear—the fey were a problem the Hostmen could not control. The hatred of her entire race boiled down to a handful of men who wanted their heirs to live as opulently as they had. A flare of rage swept through her so intense it brought tears to her eyes.

 

EXCERPT #2

Effie exposed her hand to the growling bear. Her fingers found Rorie’s head and gave him a few soothing strokes behind the ears. A rumble came from deep in his gullet, as fierce as his wee body could muster. Frigid wind blasted them as they hid behind a large boulder atop the crown of Ben Nevis, the highest peak in the Highlands. A stranger had come to speak with her employer, Thomas Stevenson. Not an odd occurrence, but for a fortnight Rorie had groaned and whined, pawing for her attention as if disturbed by dark thoughts, trying to plead with her that something was amiss. And now that the stranger had come, Rorie’s discomfort had turned into malice.

“If only I could peer into that head of yours and see what the fuss is about,” she said, planting her hands firmly on her hips.

Rorie squatted on his haunches with a big huff, turning his head away. Though preferring the wild of the forest, he behaved himself around others when she asked. And only because it was she who asked. The bond had something to do with her Sithling blood, but Effie couldn’t explain how it worked. It was as much a mystery to her as any of the uncanny bonds she’d made with woodland creatures, lazy housecats, and goofy hounds over the years. As much a mystery as why the queen and all the lords of London abhorred her kind, though she’d done nothing to warrant their wrath.

Rorie had been loyal to her ever since she’d convinced Stuart Graham to rescue him from a carnival the prior year, saving him from a brutal—and probably short—life of baiting. But he’d never acted so ill-tempered. Had the stranger come to take him away? Or was it she who should be fearful? By sight alone, the stranger wouldn’t know her for a Sithling. Short of stature, with a young woman’s curves and chestnut locks clipped about the shoulders, she lived her life amongst the Scots all but unnoticed, the truth of her mixed fey blood hidden.

Yet such reliance on appearance was a false safety.

Her hair whipped about her face, blinding her until she swept it back. The lodge of the Scottish Meteorological Society perched only a short distance away, a cozy, timbered house well-weathered from years of driving gales. Its chimney puffed white smoke, teasing her with thoughts of hot tea and honeyed biscuits. But that was where Mr. Stevenson had taken the stranger, and he’d instructed her not to return until he bade her. She blew into her hands for warmth, vexed by the riddle of the strange visitor, unable to contain her curiosity any longer.

“I’m going for a closer look,” she said to Rorie. “Wait here.” Hoarfrost crunched as she shifted her weight and slunk forward. The frozen dew crusted the fern and bracken around the lodge, radiating a cold that sank into her bones. Her olive-colored dress and drab woolen coat were serviceable enough, but they did little against the cutting winds atop the mountain, winds that drove in the damp air as if she wore nothing as all.

 

 

About the Book

Title: Blood Moon

Author: Nancy Gray

Genre: YA Fantasy

Mercy finds herself on a ship bound for the Ashen capital with her companions. But things don't go smoothly there after Mercy, Mirilee, and Erebus decide to sneak ashore to take part in a festival. They get more than they counted on when they witness a public execution of Sylvan Islanders and Mercy is captured after being mistaken for a Sylvan spy!

 

Dark and sinister secrets are revealed on their perilous journey. Erebus is forced to confront his inner demon, while Mercy discovers a demon of her own. In the midst of it all, Mirilee has a dark vision of the war they are trying to prevent.

 

What will become of Mercy and her friends?

 

Author Bio

Nancy Gray lives in West Columbia, SC, with her husband, two daughters, and two crazy cats. She attended college at the University of South Carolina and attained a BA in Media Arts with a cognate in English. Her original career was as a graphic designer but writing is her calling. Her favorite genres to write are horror, fantasy (particularly young adult), steampunk, cyberpunk, urban fantasy, and occasionally light science fiction (space opera). Many of her short stories and novels also blur the lines of genre fiction. Nancy is an avid reader and also enjoys drawing, video games, and table top role playing games. She also enjoys anime and manga.

 

Links

Website: www.nancygray.net

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/WriterNancyGray/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/NancyGrayWriter

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Nancy-Gray/e/B01LZSB78L/

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15639927.Nancy_Gray

 

 

Book Excerpts

Excerpt 1

 

“I know, decisions, decisions. How should we start, with a lie or with the truth? I know my physiology. You’re not from the Sylvan Islands. But, what are you going to tell me?”

“I’m not from the Sylvan Islands. I’m one of the Forest Tribe.”

He smiled very slightly. “Ah, so we start with the truth. I can already tell you’re going to be a very fascinating subject. Now, why were you in Crevane?”

“I’m an escaped slave. I took an Ashen lover in Concord, and he convinced me to come to the capital with him. He sold me into slavery and told my masters that I was one of the Sylvan people.”

The doctor sighed and said, “And now a lie.”

“I wasn’t lying.”

The doctor acted like she hadn’t spoken. “You see, the body is an amazing thing. Eyes dilate, people sweat, they avoid eye contact, and everyone has a unique ‘tell’ for when they’re lying. You just have to know what to look for, but what to do about it? That also depends on the individual.”

He put the scalpel down and began to look over his tray of tools. There were several types of knives and scalpels, a hammer, and some tools that she couldn’t place at all. He glanced at Mercy and then at the row of tools in front of him, and finally picked up the hammer. He grabbed her left hand and slammed the hammer down on the nail of her little finger. Mercy shrieked in pain, unable to hold the sound back in her shock and immense pain.

“Now, that was for lying. Are you going to lie to me again?”

Mercy swallowed hard but didn’t say anything.

“You’re very bright. If you said no, I would have to do that to another finger. It’s in everyone’s nature to lie if they think that they have good reasons. You didn’t want to tell me that you were of the Forest Tribe, so I have to assume you’re a spy for them. Are you a spy?”

Mercy said confidently, “No.”

He frowned. “Hmmm…interesting. Then I’ll ask again. What were you doing here?”

The doctor exchanged his hammer for a scalpel and held it just above Mercy’s right eye. Mercy felt herself beginning to sweat and found that she couldn’t pull her eyes away from the sharp object. He didn’t have to tell her what he was going to do if she lied to him this time, but she also knew if she told the truth it would mean he would hunt down her friends. Then they would be the next ones strapped down to the table.

“I’m waiting. For every minute I wait, the scalpel gets closer.”

He took a strange-looking golden device from his pocket. It clicked in a rhythmic way, and he stared at it intently, moving the scalpel closer and closer.

Mercy shivered and closed her eyes.

“Don’t make me pry your eyelids open. I have tools to do that too. Tick-tock.”

 

Excerpt 2

 

Erebus flinched at her expression as though he suddenly realized who she was. “Please, don’t look at me like this. I’m so thirsty. That whale carcass outside smelled so strong, and I came down here for a drink only to find this.” He continued in a terrified whisper, “There’s no blood. We’re weeks away from a port, and there’s no blood left here!”

“Don’t panic. We can provide blood for you. In the desert, Merilee and I gave you blood. And even if you don’t like them much, I’m sure that Beryl, Pyron, and Kylas would donate some blood for you too.”

He began to pace like a caged animal.

“But if I don’t get some soon, I don’t know what’s going to happen. I feel like I’m losing control. There’s something unnatural about that carcass, Mercy. Someone did something to it. It smells like it’s bleeding human blood.”

Mercy shivered. “Then you should take some blood from me. Since we’re still under the pact, you can’t take too much.”

“But what if I do? I’ve never fed from you when I was this thirsty.”

“I trust you.”

Erebus looked horrified. “Don’t, not right now. There’s something I didn’t tell you. The thing that Kylas saw in my shadow, it’s like the alternate version of me. I feel like I’m fighting to control it right now. I’m afraid if I lose to it then I won’t be able to come back.”

Mercy unbuttoned the top of her shirt and exposed most of her neck. “Then don’t. Take some blood from me.”

Erebus made an agonized sound and buried his face in his hands. When he looked up again, his eyes were no longer violet. They were the strange red color she thought she saw when she walked in. The expression on his face was a cruel grin, and it made her instinctively want to run screaming out of the room. He ran his tongue along his fangs, and when he spoke it sounded as though another voice was superimposed over his own.

“Well, if you insist.”

Mercy tried to run, but he moved so quickly that she barely even saw the motion at all. In an instant, he knocked her roughly to the floor and bit down hard on her neck. She had never felt so much of his venom. It made everything seem cloudy and surreal, like drinking too much blackberry wine at a celebration. The little light from the oil lamps lining the walls was misty. There were haloes surrounding the light like stars seen through tear-stained eyes. Mercy’s emotions were flowing in a spectrum of euphoria and terror as she felt him sucking up mouthful after mouthful of her blood. She tried to fight him off, but eventually she found herself not wanting him to stop.

Questions flooded the logical part of her mind as she felt her body becoming weaker and weaker. “Is this really how I die? Killed by the person that I love most? What will he do when he realizes he’s killed me? What will the others do to him?”

 

 

Excerpt 3

 

Mercy reached for her silver knives. They had not been there a moment ago, but appeared as if summoned by her will. She ran the sharp edge against her hand, making the creature within the cave drool with desire. He strained harder against the chains, almost in frenzy. She waited patiently for him to settle down, like a spider waiting for a struggling fly to wear out before descending the web for its meal. She felt Erebus grabbing her by the shoulders, trying to pull her away and begging her to stop; but Mercy knew this place was in her mind, and she was the one in control.

“I’m blood bound to Erebus until we find the source of the rain. I know that you were involved in that as well. You’re a part of him, and you aren’t bound to me, at least not yet.”

The creature cackled its high-pitched laughter again. “You want to make a bargain with me, little girl?”

“Yes. First, I want you to swear that you won’t hurt or kill me or any of my friends, since that was the first thing that you tried to do the moment that you gained control.”

Erebus moaned and gripped her shoulders tighter. “Mercy, this is not a good idea!”

“Second, you’re to lay dormant again after Erebus gets enough blood to satiate his thirst – not your thirst, but his.”

Erebus’ demon just regarded her with a silent smile.

“And third, you owe me a favor to repay me for the blood I’ve lost to you. This pact will last until I claim my favor.”

It laughed. “You are a clever one. I’ll give you that, but now for my terms of the agreement. First, you will not harm me or my host, should he lose control again.”

“Very well.”

“Second, you’ll drink a few drops of my blood before you leave here.”

Erebus shouted, “NO! You won’t feed Mercy any of your tainted blood!”

It acted as though Erebus hadn’t spoken. “And finally, when the time comes for your favor it can’t be anything that requires me to dissipate, merge with Erebus, or any nonsense like that.”

“What will happen if I drink the blood?”

The creature smirked. “It will bind you to me and my host. You’ll be more attuned to him, more connected. You’ll even be able to tap into his power. The more of my blood that you drink, the more power you’ll gain. I’ll let you choose how much. It’ll be enough for you to have a taste of what it means to be a Weaver of Shadows.”

“It’ll taint you, Mercy. It’ll start to change you. Please listen to me! You don’t want to do this!”

“Only one drop.”

The creature grinned, cut its palm with the claw of its other hand, and reached out to shake. “We have an agreement, and may the powers that be strike the one down that breaks this vow.”