The Lost Books Of The Angel Filomena: Book 1: The Olympian Forge

So book two is actually already done, and will be getting copy edited soon. So in my spare time, I tend to still write things, so I have decided to write some short chapters with the characters from the "Of Angels and Olympians" series. I figure I will post one every week or so giving some insight into the world we have created. At this point none of these will be used in books, but hey you never know if they turn out good I may use them in book three. So please feel free to let me know if you do. Keep in mind these are not edited and are just stories that pop in my head. Well anyway here is the first one.

“The Olympian Forge”

Hephaestus stood in front of his forge, staring into the fires that bellowed under the glowing metal he had been working, lost in his thoughts, the anger welled inside of him, his creations, the weapons he had spent eons forging, the weapons he put his blood and his sweat into where now in the hands of these newborn Angels. When Zeus had originally approached him about the idea, he had thought for sure it was in jest, how he could make such a request of him like this was beyond reasoning. He had originally refused Zeus, he would not stand for such a defilement of his labored artwork, how could he, as angry as he was with Zeus asking, Zeus had been as equally angry at his response. In the end he had no choice but to bend to the will, and wishes of his King and the Father.
He had considered crafting inferior pieces for inferior life forms but could not bring himself to allow anything but pure perfection to leave his forge. He let out a long exhale and turned his head to glance over to where a few of these Angels had gathered. He looked upon them in disgust as he watched those same creatures wave their newly acquired weapons he had just forged like some Satyr child receiving a new prank toy. He shook his head in contempt as he placed his hammer upon his anvil and put his hand to his pocket as if in doing so he would be guarding his great secret. A smile came upon his face as he considered the drawings that his hand covered. He dared not leave them lying around, for he could not afford to have them discovered, lest anyone ask questions of what type of weapon he was designing. He closed his eyes and envisioned the death toll it would take upon these Angels once the Titans had been destroyed. Oh how he longed for that day. “Hephaestus?” He quickly snapped out of his thoughts and turned to look at the newborn who had spoken his name, he had seen him around Ares tent, he was one of their leaders, that he knew for sure………”What is it Angel?” He said in a gruff voice. “As you already know, my name is Michael, I wanted to tell you how appreciative we are of your weapons, and they have proved themselves to be great assets in battle and….”With a wave of his hand Hephaestus brought Michael to silence,” I make them because I am told I must Angel, but don’t for one moment ever think I want to, you neither deserve nor have you earned the privilege to brandish a weapon such as I have made you in battle.” Hephaestus noticed Michael prepare to interrupt him and again raised his hand to stave him off. ” Angel tell me something, have I said anything to you to make you think I would want to hear your voice? That I need to hear from you of the caliber of my creations? Or that I even care what you or your ilk might think of me or my weapons? ”His last sentence hung in the air like the smoke that plumed from his fires, he could see the anger on this Angels face and hoped he would strike at him so he could pluck the feathers of this Newborn creatures wings.
“My name is Michael Olympian you would be well to remember it. ”Hephaestus could feel his face turning red in anger as the Angel quickly turned on his heels and started to walk away, how dare he speak to him like that, and then turn his back on him……..
At that moment Hephaestus decided…. He would remember the name Michael............ he would etch it into his memory as if he had etched it into the stone of the great Mount Olympus itself. He would remember it so that he would never forget it, he would remember the name Michael, for Michael will be the first Angel Hephaestus will destroy once this war is over, and he will lay the Angels broken body on the steps in front of Zeus, and he will say nothing, for without Hephaestus there is no fire, without Hephaestus there is no forging of metals, and without Hephaestus………..  there are no weapons!!!!!!!!

4 of 5 Stars Compelling Combination of Mythologies : New Review

4.0 out of 5 stars Compelling combination of Mythologies December 21, 2013

By Dastrn

Format:Kindle Edition|Amazon Verified Purchase

J.D. Rice and R. Sardella created an interesting universe in the first of (hopefully) many installments in the "Angels and Olympians" series. The combination of christian and greek mythos is unique as far as I'm aware of, and they pair up well. I'm finding the Titans in particular to be well-written.
The pace is rather brisk, as is necessary for novellas of this size. Dialogue is brief, which leaves character development short, which took a star away in my rating, as I'm usually very keen on books with strongly-written characters (see Joe Abercrombie, George R.R. Martin, and Tolkien for some obvious examples within the fantasy genre, and Stephen King as the penultimate example of well-written character with complex inner workings).

A good clean 4 stars for Rice and Sardella, and I look forward to reading the next book in the series.

Received a 5 Star Review: "A rattling good escape!"

Here is the review from Amazon:

5.0 out of 5 stars A rattling good escape! December 20, 2013

By Alan Walsh

Format:Paperback

I picked the book up hoping for a story to take me far away from the workaday world and this definitely achieved that. A mesmerising sequence of events, characters and mythical creations that I would recommend to anyone. I felt the story gathered pace throughout and can't wait for the next volume. It also seems like it would work very well for the screen actually... although maybe that's just how well the descriptions work. A great read!

A new Excerpt from "Pilgrimage of Angels" First battle with a Hellhound

Here is Chapter 4 of the book. It is the first battle and also the first time the Angles meet a Hellhound. This is all new to them and they are unarmed .......... I hope you enjoy it.

Chapter 4

Angels screamed and called out, pointing and yelling at the unknown terrors that surrounded them in the darkness. Around him, Greagian saw an ever-growing cloud of ash that seemed to suck the life out of the grass, leaving only withered, brown husks in its wake. Within that cloud, Greagian could see bodies circling the angelic crowd as the angels jostled and shoved each other into a tight circle. The starlight failed to illuminate these creatures, but Greagian found he could see far into the darkness and make out their shape. Long bodies, two sets of powerful legs, sharp claws, and an aura of shadowy fire that, rather than giving off light, seemed only to absorb it and create more darkness. They ran quickly around the angelic tribe, circling, coming closer, and letting off that foul smoke that began to hide even the stars from sight and increase the angels’ sense of blindness.

            Before he knew what was happening, Greagian heard a roar come out of the darkness and felt himself being jostled once again by those around him. An angel cried out, his voice garbled as if his throat were filled with liquid. The sound was quickly drowned out by the cries of the others.

            Another angel fell. Then another. Greagian was knocked to the ground by a powerful blow and saw blood on the ground. But not his own. The dark-skinned angel who had walked alongside him for many hours lay dead at his side. In this moment, he could not remember the man’s name. Looking up, he saw one of the shadows eyeing him through the darkness. Only its eyes were visible, the rest of its form now completely enveloped in the black smoke that seemed to stream from every pore of its dark skin. The eyes spoke to Greagian. Told him that he was nothing to them. Nothing at all but another meal, another game.

            Then Greagian and the surrounding angels grew strangely quiet. It seemed to them that suddenly the clouds seemed less black, the sky less dark. Greagian could see the creature plainly. Like a lion it was, but hairless and covered in scales. Pacing and snarling among the remains of the once-hearty field of grass. Sharp fangs, sharp claws, sharp eyes. But Greagian’s eyes were sharper.

            The creature hesitated for a moment as the angel stared it down.

            It waited.

            The other angels stopped moving and set their eyes into the darkness as well, as if all were filled with sudden resolve.

            Then the moment passed. The creatures pounced. Greagian pivoted to the side, redistributing his weight by instinct in preparation for the blow. He then stretched out his hand just as the creature came at him and caught the monster by its scaly throat. Claws fell onto his shoulders, digging in and tearing into his flesh, yet still Greagian held. Held and squeezed. Strength was in his fingers, and the creature gagged. Spittle flew into Greagian’s face, stinging him but leaving him undeterred. He would not let go until the creature breathed its last breath. All the while, the shadow’s powerful forelegs kicked and scratched and tore into the angel’s shoulders.

            Then the kicking slowed. The creature’s body convulsed. It moaned and finally it lay still, collapsing into a heap by Greagian’s side.

            Greagian had only enough time to take a breath before another shadow fell upon him. He felt himself flung onto his back, gripping the creature’s forelegs as its jaws snapped in his face. For a brief moment, he thought this would be his death, an unsatisfying end to such a short existence. But then a few of his fellow angels grabbed the creature from both sides and flung it back and away into the surrounding clouds of smoke. One of his companions offered Greagian a hand, but he could only wave his rescuer off. He was already feeling light-headed from loss of blood.

            Greagian lifted himself to his knees, unable to do much more. Blood continued to drip from his mangled shoulders, pooling on the ground beneath him. For several moments, he simply watched the battle unfold.

            Ahead of him, the bright-eyed angel who had started the march came charging into the battle, another angel not far behind. The shadows had little chance to react to this new foe as the bright-eyed one caught two of the creatures by their forelegs and sent them tumbling to the ground in a mess of feathers and scales and darkness and light. Greagian tried to move, tried to aid in the battle, but his wounds were too severe. He could only watch as the bright-eyed angel grappled with the creatures, fiery eyes blazing as he punched, kicked, held, and threw each in turn. Always scrambling, always moving, always predicting where the next strike would come. A master of battle at less than a day old. An archangel.

            Soon the trio of wrestling figures became a fuzzy mess in Greagian’s eyes. He could no longer hear the snarls of the creatures, could hardly smell the foulness of their smoke. His vision was fading as the blood loss finally stripped him of consciousness. The last thing he felt before passing out was the soft, loamy soil cradling him as his body dropped to the ground.

You can see more of the book here:  Pilgrimage of Angels