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.

Recieved a review on Goodreads: "Well-written and, in places, often lovely in regards to descriptions"

Received this review on Goodreads.

Well-written and, in places, often lovely in regards to descriptions, certain expressed ideas and the narrative's overall tone and feel. To me, the book is reminiscent of older (classic) Christian novels, a nice change of pace from contemporary stories. My favorite part was the end, when the angels (and the reader) get a glimpse of the Father's master plan and what is in store for the rest of the series. My one issue with the story was that the world felt small and difficult to fathom: it was hard to get a sense of space or where places were in relation to each other or how much time passed between events. There is a note of Cronus, for example, finding refuge away from the Father's eyes but it's not clear if this place is on earth, in another dimension, in the heavens...I found this disorienting. Perhaps a map might help ground the reader in this world. Other than that, a very good and enjoyable read. Recommended. 

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 

An in Depth Review of my book from a Blogger.

On November 8th a reader of my book wrote this on Amazon as her review:

 Strangely drawing, and refreshing in how original it is. November 8, 2013

By K. Cross

Format:Kindle Edition

Pilgrimmage of Angels afforded a new twist on greek mythology that I wasn't expecting.

Sardella and Rice use a combination of mythological creatures and current religious parallels that I couldn't miss and really enjoyed. On the other hand, it wasn't so obvious that I'd say it has Christian undertones, just parallels. They have a few main characters that they follow in the story, and I think that really helped spread out the intense nature of the fight. Because it's so battle-oriented, switching the character perspectives made it so that I never got bored. The writing was solid and I don't recall any hiccups or spots that bothered me.

I would say that what Pilgrimmage of Angels really has going for it is the originality of the story. It's truly a twist I have never heard before, and I think that was where most of my forward momentum came from. The angels have different motivations, different opinions, different viewpoints, but all the same objective. It makes for a really interesting read.

One of my only complaints was that dialogue didn't come as often as I would have liked, or am used too, but it never stopped me from reading. There were also a lot of battle scenes, but I never felt like they went on for too long at any one time. I was invested enough in the characters that I wanted to know how they fought in battle as well, and how they came out, so the battle scenes were okay. There were a few parts I started to skim a paragraph or two, but that was about as long as it went before I picked back up and started reading.

Overall, they did a good job wrapping the first book up without an annoying cliff hanger, but enough that I'm looking forward to the next installment.

Well done, Sardella and Rice.