Tuesday, February 25, 2020

Beginning of COSMIC LOCK, Book 6 in the Grand Masters Galaxy

Grand Masters Violet and Athanor Griffin return from beyond the Cosmic Rift with two shiploads of rescued children and escaped slaves, but their enemies have not been idle in their absence. Avalon is in flames and their little son is missing. Finding him may be the easiest problem for the powerful couple. They must unite the fractious Grand Masters, stop the bloodsucking Ixioths from enslaving sentients, and seal the Rift to prevent new incursions of the vindictive Nulls. Can they overcome the challenges and secure peace for the galaxy?

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Excerpt from Chapter 1: Dramatic Beginning

   A rippling sheet of vivid orange flames filled her vision.
   Violet had inspected her son’s surroundings via their resonating amethysts as soon as she had advised the captain of the watch to expect two friendly ships of escapees from behind the Rift. Instead of Mother Tingu’s pristine kitchen on Avalon, a wall of fire filled her senses.
   Stunned and bewildered, her mind whirled with questions. They had left their precocious thirteen-month old son with their old tutor who could control his erratic psychic impulses. What in the voids was she seeing? Were the flames an afterimage of her violent passage across the Cosmic Rift?
   Acting by instinct, she contacted her psychic partner.
   Their link vibrated with Athanor’s cry, “Avalon’s under attack. The portal is blocked.”
   Trembling in foreboding, Violet cried, “Varan’s with Tingu.”
   “If you’ll teleport to Tingu’s cottage and secure our son, I’ll reopen the portal.”
   “Instantly.” She focused on the familiar white-walled cottage, tapped her enhancer and spun into the eerie whirlwinds of the quantum vortices.
   She popped into normal space by the white picket fence. The gate swung on its hinges, squeaking in a blustery gale. Dense gray smoke and orange flames exploded from the thatched roof of the cottage. The roses climbing over the porch had shriveled into ashes, and as she watched in horror, fragments of window glass shattered onto the flagstone path.
   “Varan,” she yelled. “Mother Tingu, where are you?”
   No reply. Only the crackle of fire and hot gusts of wind battering against her body. Had she fulfilled her promise to rescue the children of Cinerea at the expense of her son’s life?
   Despair darkened her mind. Her baby son was dead, burned by the fire. She teetered on the edge of a black precipice. The abyss beckoned.
   She fell.