Tag Archives: Post-Apocalyptic

The Weapon of an Archangel- A #Post-Apocalyptic #Fantasy #Teaser

02 Friday Aug 2019

Posted by in The Mercy Series

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I wanted to share a few snippets about a character in my new series The Mercy Series that is not necessarily a character and yet, is.  The Sword of an Archangel, which answers to the name of Jshunamir (Pronounced Zshoonawmeer)

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The road to Marçais was 360 miles.  With an attachment of 30 soldiers, 10 auxiliary personnel, two dozen pack horses and a train of 15 supply wagons, including the one turned into an open-air-prison, Lévesque knew the journey would take at least a week.

He did not, however, anticipate the difficulty they would face transporting the Archangel’s sword.

It appeared normal enough to the undiscerning eye; a long-sword forged with exceptional skill, but not unusual.  Upon closer inspection, however, one could see its black leather scabbard, although older than any could comprehend, appeared ageless and bore no mark of any kind upon its luxuriant surface. The blade was etched with runes and indecipherable writing that shimmered with a silvery light all their own, and the edge was sharper than any steel could ever be honed. Even more incredible was its incomprehensible weight.  When Lévesque attempted to pick it up from the beach where it had fallen, he discovered it could barely be moved.  Two men together, then three, then four tried to raise the sword from the sand and drag it away, all unsuccessfully.  They struggled with it for some time, ultimately devising a makeshift sling for it using an old tarp, which they managed to slide beneath it before harnessing the sling to two draft horses to pull.

On day two of their journey, one of the horses collapsed out of exhaustion.  He was replaced by two pack horses, their goods being redistributed among the remaining animals, but on day three the other draft horse needed to be spelled.  The unfathomable burden the sword created required routine cycling of the horses and slowed their return to Marçais considerably.  ….

“We had a devil of a time getting him here.”

“Why?  Was he resistive?”  Shaking his head, Lévesque gestured to the magnificent sword lying atop a small stone dais they had draped with deep black velvet at one side of the chamber.

“Moving him was not the problem; it was his sword that gave us the most trouble.”  The EPP Guard stopped to examine the weapon with greater interest.

“A sword?”  Lévesque nodded.

“Not just any sword.  The weapon of an Archangel.”  He waited, allowing the young man to gaze at it for several moments before continuing. “It required three draft horses, spelled every six hours in a continual rotation to haul it here and the strength of thirty men on a winch cable to get it to where it is now.”  Such a declaration was nearly beyond imagining and the guard’s forehead wrinkled with skepticism as he turned his doubtful gaze back to the captain.

“A sword?” He repeated incredulously, to which question Lévesque smiled magnanimously.

“Please, by all means, see for yourself.  I invite you to take it in hand.”  The youthful officer glanced across at Philippe who was busying himself with the practical matters of preparing their captive for another session, checking the tension of the manacles confining him and placing a leather harness across his head to hold him down.

Unable to accept such an outrageous claim, the EPP Guard stepped closer and grasped the hilt of the sword firmly.  Try as he might, however, he could not move it. Not a fraction of an inch.  It was a mountain resting atop velvet without as much as a bend in the delicate fabric.

“Astonishing.  Yet, he can wield this weapon without effort?”  Lévesque nodded….

Never in all the years of his immortal life had he ever felt such irrepressible rage.  It was not in his nature to feel hatred or violence, but he was not himself.  He was immortal energy bound within a human body.  Growling fiercely, he pushed himself up from the floor, ignoring the intense pain that shattered through him as his wounds reopened. Sauvage had already turned away and was pulling Lourdes against his body, smothering her with a lustful kiss as he tugged the bodice of her dress open viciously.

“Leave her.”  Straining to suppress the violent shuddering that wracked his weakened body, Tzadkiel stood facing them and repeated himself with a more imposing tone.  He was ignored, but he had not defeated legions of Hell’s demons to lie on the floor helplessly and watch so vile a human indulge his wicked lusts. Stretching out his hand, he spoke the word that had been poised on his lips for months.

“Jshunamir.”  His voice was barely a whisper, but at the sound the sword, which had rested atop the pedestal created for it for nearly a year, stirred.  Holding out his hand, Tzadkiel waited, never doubting the result of his word.  The sword rose, spun as if seeking him; then moved with speed that could scarcely be tracked, slowing the instant before it touched his hand.  Looking down at the weapon, Tzadkiel closed his hand around the hilt and clanked the tip loudly against the floor.

The unexpected sound drew Sauvage’s attention at last.  Twisting to find the source of the noise, his eyes grew wide when he saw the Archangel standing with his sword in his hand, facing him with a bold, unwavering stance even as blood streamed across his torn, bruised, naked body.  Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he held Lourdes by a fistful of hair and shook his head.

“Think you can take me in your condition?”  His impudence was only exceeded by his lack of insight.  Tzadkiel glared at him, speaking with intractable aggression.

“This sword answers every command I give it.  If you do not release her, I shall ask it to bury itself in your spine.”

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~Morgan~

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Beautiful Original Artwork by

Angel of Mercy #Preview of a #FantasyCharacter

30 Tuesday Apr 2019

Posted by in The Mercy Series

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As a result of the recent poll I took on WP, as well as Facebook, I was finally able to dress my main character from Angel of Mercy.

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The uniform Lévesque had given him was that of a regimental officer made of black leather that did not immediately impress, particularly when folded up lying upon a blood-stained table.  The black leather pants were snug, trimmed with gold embroidery and dressed by a triplet of golden buttons embossed with the Eminent Protectorate’s seal on either side of this trim just below the hip.  The snug-fitting coat was also embroidered with golden trim, set off smartly by a double row of similar golden buttons that ran along the outside length of the coat and collar. Individual straps of black leather closed the coat by crossing the front of it from one button to the other, while epaulettes, which also bore the EP seal and looping golden fringes, were set off by two golden cords ornamentally draping the neckline.

Black leather boots with lacings and a wide leather belt completed the ensemble and after putting everything on, he walked with a purposeful stride to the small dais upon which Jshunamir was displayed.  Taking up his own baldric of soft gray leather, the only thing that remained from what he had been wearing on the day he encountered Lévesque, he cinched it loosely round his hips and picked up his sword.  Unstained and untarnished, though it had not been cleaned, it glittered as beautifully as it did on the day it was forged; it’s inlaid runes glimmering with a silvery light all their own. Sheathing it, he turned back toward the table, noticing Lourdes at last who stood watching him with an unguarded stare.

Smiling subtly, he met her gaze, the deep lavender of his eyes searching hers, but she closed her and looked down at the bundle she carried, clearly unable to express herself.  Crossing the floor with an unhurried stride, he looked down at himself and then back to her with an openly curious expression.

“Does it suit me? I think it’s a bit,” he paused, seeking the correct word, but she finished his sentence for him, her tone openly approving.

“Magnificent.”

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Tzadkiel is the Archangel of Mercy, sent to earth in the 4th era after the first of the Four Horsemen have ridden. He is looking for one human among those who remain who still understands Mercy.  He’s been looking for nearly 100 years, but he’s finally found her…a young servant named Lourdes.

Just a taste of the work in progress….

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~Morgan~

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Beautiful Original Artwork by aenaluck

Playing in the Rain- a #Sci-Fi, #Post-Apocalyptic, #Suspense #Page-Turner

13 Saturday Apr 2019

Posted by in Authors Books Reviews & Interviews

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Sandra J. Jackson is an award-winning Canadian author living in rural Ontario with her family. Her published novels include Promised Soul and Playing in the Rain – Book 1 of the Escape Series. The second book of the series is awaiting publication while Sandra works on editing the final book. She holds a professional membership with the Canadian Author Association and is a member of Writer’s Ink.

Playing in the Rain

When the effects of a hypnosis inducing drug fade, April slowly begins a conscious awakening. Memories of her past are unclear and she has no recollection of her identity or her whereabouts.

As the days slip by, April realizes there is more to life than existing when she is introduced to an occupant who does just that—her sister. The more she learns about her environment the more she wants to escape.

Will April remember her past, her sister? Will she have the courage to leave?  And if she does, where will she go?

Experience through April’s eyes her struggle to remember and her determination to escape in this sci-fi, post-apocalyptic, suspense story.

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Hi Sandra!  Its  great having you stop by for a quick chat.  Tell us about you.  What do you love most about Writing?

What I love most is that no matter what ideas I might have my characters are the ones who direct the story. They surprise me every time.

I love when they do that!  I like to tell their story, using 2nd person.  Do you have a preferred POV that you write from and why?

Both of my books are written in first person (though Promised Soul does have a couple of chapters written in third). I like the way first person draws readers into a story and makes them feel like they are a part of it.

First person is something I haven’t tried yet.  Maybe one day.  Makes me wonder, does it drive how your write….and Do your characters dictate what or how your write in any way?

Absolutely! I have a quote that I use on my business cards and a few other things. “Only my characters truly know what’s happening—I just hold the pen.”

I wrote that quote because this is how it is for me.

Oh thats so true…I never know where they will lead me. Im often just holding on for the ride!  Playing in the Rain sounds like a marvelous, page-turner!  Where can we find it?

Find it on Amazon

Discover More of Sandra’s Writing

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Thank you so much for visiting BnV, Sandra.  I am so happy to share your story…and your story!

Blessings and Success 🙂

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~Morgan~

Angel of Mercy – A #Post-Apocalyptic #Fantasy #Fiction #Book #Teaser

09 Tuesday Apr 2019

Posted by in The Mercy Series

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My current work in progress is practically telling itself.  Though I started it about a year ago, and then had nearly a year long hiatus from writing of any kind while I moved, found a decent job, and got sorted, the story has recently re-captured my attention.  So much so, in fact, that I almost feel like I’m taking dictation.  Already 22K words and only at Chapter 5, Angel of Mercy is more than filling my thoughts, it’s renewed a true passion within me I feared I lost. Words flow again in beautiful abundance and I am overjoyed!

Overjoyed….and eager to share some of the growing tale! It tells the story of life after the first 3 Horsemen, Pestilence, War and Famine, have ridden.  In the 4 Era after the Great Cataclysm,(roughly 400 years in the future)  the final horseman, Death is accompanied by the Archangel of Mercy, who is sent to find at least one person among those who remain who is merciful.  He has been searching for almost 100 years….

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Patience was his essence, clemency his soul.  He had never known resentfulness, rage, or pain.  All the years of his long life, which numbered in countless eons, he had been the personification of compassion, empathy, and forgiveness; yet now as the dark hours of agony and harrowing loneliness he endured drug on, his thoughts twisted in a tumultuous commotion of wrath and determination. Those who abused him deserved the wrath that pierced his benevolent essence with its ferocity, and the one he had been sent to find merited the determination that implored him to wait, despite the intensifying desire to pour out the ferocity of his wrath on those who abused him.  The horrifying cycle of tempestuous emotion became a maelstrom that threatened to undo him, separate him from everything he knew about himself, and create in the void a monster of abhorrent violence.

His brothers, those who had preceded him, wrought justice for all who had been victimized during the ages that had passed since the beginning.  All of beautiful creation was not subject to the trials they unleashed.  During the cataclysms, the earth’s population diminished on a vast scale, but the plant and animal-life of the planet recovered from the subjugation it had suffered under the ungainly rule of the humans. Those who felt the full extent of the justice his brothers released had sown the seeds of their destruction through their own despicable actions.  Whether through the sickness they poured from their souls like plague, through the violence they perpetrated on the meek, or through the deprivation of their cruel disregard, Pestilence, War, and Famine were sent to match their own.

He had been sent to find one that matched himself; one kindred spirit among the multitudes that was the embodiment of mercy. Although he had searched unsuccessfully for nearly a century, he could not accept there was no one. None, but him?  It was incomprehensible.  So he continued to search, to wait, and through waiting, he accepted the abuse forced upon him by the children of the lost.

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I would love to hear what you think…and if this entices you to want more 🙂

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~Morgan~

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Beautiful Original Artwork by aenaluck