First Chapter of Book Two "War of the Gods" of the Series: "Of Angels and Olympians"

I am enclosing the first chapter of book two below, thus far names "WAR OF THE GODS" book should be out sometime in April, I hate saying dates because it never seems to actually happen. At this point it needs some rewrites and to be copy edited. The format will remain the same, a Novella with approximately 35K words. There is a lot more involvement with mythical creatures this time around. Pretty much if it was part of Greek Mythology it is in the story. Obviously as long as it fit, more will be added with the third book. I am not going to give away too much of the story but am happy to say I feel it is better than the first, with more interaction along with building on the first book's story and the characters in it.

CHAPTER 1

The wood was silent and the moon low as the scout crept quietly between the trees. The forest was dense, the moon-rays cracking through the canopy of trees only at irregular intervals. These shimmering rays of light, the scout avoided. He dashed from tree to tree, body low to the ground, stopping before coming near any point of light. His course was indirect, seemingly random, but slowly his cloven feet brought him near the center of the great wood. If any other creatures stirred in the night, they noticed him not and made no sound at his passing. He was alone, alone with the grass and the trees and the crumbling leaves beneath his feet.

The scout was short by human standards, the height of only an adolescent boy. His torso was as strong as any man’s, but hairless, save the creepings of curly brown fur that started at navel height and descended down his fully covered legs, ending only when they reached his hooves. Of all the creatures who roamed this heavenly forest, the satyrs were the most nimble and surefooted. The scout was no exception. He moved with a swiftness and quietness that could only be matched by the keepers of the forest, whom he had come to see.

In the center of the wood, the scout came upon a small brook, which bubbled and flowed southward toward the ravine that cut the southernmost part of the forest off from the rest of the wood. In a single leap, he cleared the stream and landed gracefully on the other side before tramping his way southward, following the flow of the stream for some miles. The moon was high in the sky when he finally reached the meeting place, a tightly packed circle of trees just north of the great ravine.

“I’m here,” he whispered, pressing his body against the largest tree. His lips nearly touched the cool brown bark. “You can come out.”

At first, he saw nothing in the failing moonlight. The tree stood just as it had when he arrived, straight and strong among its many brothers and sisters. But then, slowly, the tree began to change. The moonlight bent and twisted around its form, looping round and round in a great circle. Tiny specks of dust, like gathering gnats, began to swirl with the moonlight, scattering and condensing back and forth and back again. Then, just as quickly as the change had begun, the tree grew suddenly dark and before it stood a woman with brown, barky skin, robed only in leaves, tall and strong and graceful.

“You should not be here,” the woman said, staying within the shadow of the great tree that was both her home and her very self.

“I could not wait,” the satyr said, squinting his eyes to see the expression on the woman’s face. The darkness made her countenance unreadable.

“All things can wait, if you let them,” she said, stepping sideways and then backward, putting half her body behind the trunk of the great tree. “Leave me. You have no business here.”

“Please, milady,” the scout said, bowing slightly. “But my business is expressly concerned with you and your great wood. Would you not hear my message?”

“What message could a spy of the Titans bring the dryads?” the woman said, pulling more of her body behind the tree. Now only the outline of the right side of her head remained visible.

“Only this, fair one,” the scout said. “The army of my masters is on the move. They mean to take the eastern celestial plains, which the Olympians have long held against them as a buffer against the Father’s throne.”

“Neither the long grass, nor the rolling hills, nor the politics of the Titans and their children have any interest to me,” the dryad said, slipping totally behind the tree now.

“Then perhaps this will,” the scout said, moving around the tree to face the dryad and finding only a tangle of leaves and branches. He then swept around the other way, faster this time, and again found nothing there. Exasperated, the scout pulled a knife from his belt and moved to ram it into the tree. A hand shot out from the darkness and held his wrist fast. From the shadows, the dryad spoke again.

“Do not try the patience of my people,” she said. “Others have paid dearly for harming us and our wood.”

“Know this, lady,” the scout said, wrenching his wrist free from her grasp. “You shall pay dearly for continuing to block the southern entry to the celestial plains with your great wood. The Titans know how you have long harbored Artemis and offered her safe haven in your wood in times of need. Their patience for your interference is limited.”

At these words, the forest grew suddenly dark. The scout looked up and saw that the branches of the great circle and surrounding trees had pulled tightly around him, blocking out the light of the moon. As he stepped away, the arms of the trees seemed to follow him, reaching down toward his body, creaking and snapping as they went. Their great shadows fell over his small form, and he raised his knife once again in defense.

“Artemis has always been a friend to our wood,” the nymph said from the shadows. “More than we can say for the Titans or the other Olympians. Why now is our presence in this region so intolerable to your masters? Why now do they threaten the peace of the wood?”

“It is said by many in our camp that the Father has awakened new creatures to battle the Titans’ army,” the scout said quickly. “Beings of frightful power and great light. The Titans will not stand to have their dominion threatened. They are hell-bent on winning this war now, before the newborns gain the strength to bolster the Olympians’ forces.”

“If they threaten our home, then WE shall bolster the Olympians’ forces,” the nymph said darkly. The scout suddenly felt his legs had become immovable, and he looked down to find them wrapped tightly in thick roots.

“H-have I not always come in peace to your wood, with words only of friendship and warning?” the scout stuttered, struggling against his bindings. “My people have always loved both tree and flower, root and berry.”

“Fauns and satyrs, children of whom, I wonder,” the nymph said, ignoring the scout’s pleas for mercy. “Children of the Olympians? Spirits of their making? No, you share no relation to the dryads or naiads or nymphs of old. What then? Children of Echidna, mother of monsters? Are you brothers of centaurs, who cut our wood for sport? Of the fell-beasts who suffocate life wherever they roam? Or are you of the demons the Titans breed in secret with the help of Hades, the traitor?”

“Please, spare me,” the scout begged, letting his knife drop to the ground as the roots and branches tightened around his body. “I came only to warn you.”

“To warn or to threaten?” the dryad said, stepping out from the shadows and picking up the satyr’s knife from the ground. She held it in her hands for a few moments, examining it, before placing the hilt in her fist and pressing the point against the scout’s throat. “Your visits have been tolerated. But no more. Do not show your face in our wood again, or you shall end up like them.”

She then pointed the knife away to a nearby bundle of branches. Above them, the canopy opened enough to let the moonlight through, revealing the mangled bodies of several less-fortunate scouts and soldiers from the Titan’s army. Most looked as though they had been crushed and pulled apart simultaneously.

“I will say it again,” the dryad said. “You and your kin are no longer welcome here. And if the Titans dare to move against our wood, their forces will face the wrath of the tree spirits and the protection of the goddess Artemis. Do not test my word.”

“U-understood,” the scout said, then dropped to the ground as the branches and roots released him. When he stood again, he found the wood-nymph gone and the trees silent once again. Not bothering to look for his knife, he scurried quickly away back the way he came. When he was gone, a soft breeze blew through the forest, carrying a cloud of gnat-like dust away to the north, toward the celestial fields still held by the Olympian army.