Shuke’s War Book Sample
SCi CO has been doing many things behind the scenes, one of them is editing the dragon fantasy novel “Shuke’s War” shukeswar.com
This is a 3rd draft editorial copy, there are some blemishes and a few small things to work out before final publication- D
SAMPLE COPY ©SCi CO BOOKS
Chapter 3 of SHUKE’S WAR by DGPhelps, SCi CO Books
There have been beautiful female humanoids adored by many forms of life in all kinds of star systems through the deepest reaches of the galaxies. For Gaelron, there was only one lady who would or could ever be anyone he could see as romantically lovely in her appearance at all. His sexual attractions were powerful and he was well aware of his lustful feelings but his way of viewing the world was more as if he were vaguely aware he were dreaming. A sure-footed, very handsome and unusual man with a natural confidence that anything he would see would be a wonderful vision-a breathtaking and enlightening scene in some new way. Gaelron’s love was known to float down a sacred rolling pink river. sometimes for so long that children would be conceived and born, raised to adolescence by local families in surrounding villages. She’d slumber as she’d float along the surface of the churning pearly pink waterway which started at the peak of a much darker pink mountain and rolled endlessly around in a circuitous maze of rushing rapids. The waters were magical in that they shimmered with a silvery tinge and always changed color as the currents quickened or the temperatures fluctuated. A form of life which was almost pure electricity would wisp into form off the turbulence of the majestic waters and these wispy blue-gold tendrils would feed off the fresh oxygen bursting from the bubbly spray, dissipating in a burst of fiery pink light.
The rolling mountainside of every imaginable color had varieties of flowers which were mostly white with soft or smushy yellowish centers that bled in the sunlight with trickling oils reflecting the vast rays of pleasure the sun shone on all life below. There were also many amber, green and black bushes which had gangly dark appendages that reacted to strong wind by flailing wildly about, sending their seeds all over the rolling mountainside in hurling clusters. The way the river wrapped down and around the huge mountainside endlessly invited her to be anyone, dream as long or as little as she liked, to feel warm and safe, comfortable and powerful without having to experience more than a form of bliss.. The mystical waters changed from deep pink to rosy pink, light pink, powdery pink, reddish-pink and sometimes clear with only a blushing pink tint or at times totally white foaming bursts with pink hues— all in a rhythm with the vibrations of the mountain spirit. There was a plethora of life forms enjoying their niches in the river and the fish swimming throughout were almost always blue with yellow eyes and multi-hued markings all over their shiny scaled bodies. A bird with fins on its wings would sometimes launch from a wet nest in a nearby tree and would sail into the water and disappear…then leap forth with a blue fish in its orange beak, coming up out of the water at a speed so great that it would be almost impossible to see its flight path back to its river moss nest. These waters which were sacred to all who lived within its range was always warm and soothing, relaxing in its effect for Galeron’s lady as if every tiny part of her being was Brought to its fullest potential for her personal harmony. The natural presence of magical minerals and the resonance of blue fish songs underneath the water made her float just above it. Though she would appear to be bonded physically with the water itself, an invisible bubble surrounded her and kept her afloat so the amount of moisture she would be impacted by , she would never sink. And it seemed that when she was enjoying her trek down the river way that all life nearby would be slightly uplifted, for her aura was so pow erfully benevolent that her harmonic frequencies would 0
No aviary predators attempted to prey on her because she was their friend and the dreams she had in the brook were meetings with them, fantastical visits where they met in a spirit world for sharing their experiences. The meadows surrounding the gorgeous river was lined with the flowers and pink and blue bees with very round over-sized tails with stingers had wings that would take off and fly in the general direction of any predator while another non-detachable one was revealed in its place. There were many breeds of bird which were only present there who lived in the nearby forests on the outer perimeters of the river. Some of the birds had the ability to disappear out of thin air by flapping their wings so fast that their red feathered bodies began to blend into the redness of the planetary sun. Dragonflies which were actually part dragon and part insect lazed about especially near the coastal ridge of the riverbed, always near plants which had yellow fuzzy stalks that had flowery rather than feathery down top which blew off strands of white fizzy hairs the distant dragon kin fed on by gulping them up in the air one by one. There were occasionally fish leaping up from beneath the flowing waters to seize the rich gaseous air with round mouths made for sucking it in quickly during brief glimpses of life above the water line.
Just beyond the vegetation along the banks of the river and the rich meadow filled with wildlife between it was a living place with extraordinarily aggressive energies.The bloody violence constant in the forest beyond the rich yellow and pink hued meadows was so persistent, with such volumes of wildlife that it generated a crackling energy which carried over through trees into the grasses. The grasses here were of ultra fine hair and they’d turn to powder as the animals trampled upon the ground, so the constant rumbling warfare on the lawns threw up great yellowy rose hued clouds. The soft fibrous grassy surface would quickly regrow as the chaotic release of life just yonder through the trees had stimulated their regrowth to an accelerated reproductive state.
The river itself was the eye of a grand storm in a way, constantly pleasant and safe for this tender soul herself to enjoy while around the flowing waters around her was a wild savage world. One would marvel at a preservation of any species with the massive slaughterings of boundless numbers of species engaged in eternal combat. If one survived a battle with another of whatever breed, they’d not be too likely to run off without another fight ensuing before they’d recovered to gloat. There was a reason they’d all continuously struggle with the warfare of the meadows (humanoids never, ever ventured in there because those who tried never, ever returned). Some of the fruits on the ground were giving the animals a drug induced reaction. There were fungi which would grow as a foam, white airy fluff that would pancake outward from a dome red center. There was a yellow vegetable that would grow as rapidly as Earthly Kudzu which resembled something like a cross between a turnip and a strawberry. The beasts consumed the tops of these, leafy long purple strands of fibrous starchy and sticky nourishment. They’d be something like an aphrodisiac for the males who also experienced a grotesque rise in aggression.
There were always new females sprouting from behind the trees, the mist hung as heavy as needed to obscure all entry points in a malingering yellow haze. Purple haired trees blew whispers in the wind as new animals spit out from the wood and jumped into the fray. Very often, the sight of young fertile females leaping forth would encourage apexes of ferocity. Flesh would rip apart and fly into other embattled four, twelve, sixteen, three, sometimes two, up to dozens of legged creatures. There were large insects of many kinds who would mainly tend to the borders of the yellow misted forest and they’d sometimes feed on fallen corpses which were available at every turn. Afloat in the wondrous river, the beloved of Gaelron was never concerned with the outer rim of the sluicing waters and would often have waking dreams where she’d be flying in space and through the melting world of imagination. When she’d reach the bottom it would be a struggle to return from the heavenly state and the one thing which acted as her beacon of light was the chiseled face of Gaelron, with shoulders and arms to embrace her into bliss.
The bloodshed on powdery pink battlefield raged supremely with killing after killing after killing but somewhere along the slowly descending mountainside was a prisoner beneath the surface whose own enraged state encouraged even more feverish conflicts. A great man who from a distant planet where his society was mining ores upon discovering from their stellar vessel that it was rich in the most valuable stuff they sought. The warrior giant was resilient beyond many efforts to slay him by mysterious indigenous life forms. Hostility was the way of survival in the wilds of all planets he had visited, most of which were undeveloped by civilizations (which had already plundered the treasures of the spheroids). He would be proud to surrender his flesh to his god if need be in defense of his quests of ore mining to feed a new sun which their solar deity was using to redesign their DNA into light forms. His people felt that to hunt a specific rare and divine ore which was present in the mantle of this tiny planetary crust that with a spiritually charged ritualistic refinement of the magical metals would feed their sun. Having been born of their star in the first place, then they would eventually go back to it for ascension into a new embodiment of light.
There was a tribal species which were nocturnal and lived underground which used magic pink stones to suck the thickly muscled warrior into light pools. He’d travel through the soft blue beaming fog without traversing through any solid matter under the rapture of the rare rock’s powers then emerge into a tomb lair under the tribe’s sacred pond. The mummified remains of all their departed tribe members (who did not live brief lives in the slightest, nothing like disease) were resting in a black powdered cloth that was resistant to fire, cold and would always float. The spell weaving folks were pitch black in skin tone and had yellow bones growing on the outside of their skin below the chest, protrusions they stored meat on and sometimes jousted with in fire dances to test manhood. They had looted a stone from the river of that Gaelron’s love was presently dreaming buoyantly upon, which was no easy feat since that was on a distant world. This race had powerful magic and their shocking knotty hair was so rough that it would scape off skin if they weren’t careful with each other, making affection sometimes rather athletic. Determining that the blonde warrior’s piety was beyond penetration for their wisdom to seep in and thus he would have to fight for it with his profoundly warlike nature.
Thus they used the stone with their wisest spell crafter and sent the enlightenment seeker off to the other world, where the central flow was a resting haven whilst surrounding it was an enormously savage environment. Their was a séance for their black mummied family (whom they considered to be only waiting to get up again one day) which was a musical chant with sacred green fires only they knew the secrets to create. This with the music of the pink stone they’d seized somehow from the remote planet’s pink river floor created a light pool which the seething hero could enter and find a home for his craven lusts for worshipful violence.
Deeply buried below the finely haired powdery grasses by the pink waters, his tempestuous tantrum of stomping feet, beating dirt and bouldered walls, leaping up to the magically bound ceiling which prevented a collapse from what was a otherwise unnaturally weak prison chamber. Creatures on the surface far above responded to the pounding, the angry assaults against imprisonment by the long haired miner. The wildlife which was feeding in the more abundant areas of vegetation were suddenly lashing out from their food, otherwise which would be the only reason for their pausing from any brutalities. There was an increase in the already uncontrollable bloodletting spirit of the terrain and also a more rapidly occurring spawn from all those present. The energies pouring off of the entrapped warrior were enough to enliven the surface just above him and rings in the grass began to form from the conduction of his life-force through the embedded stones in his dirt prison walls.
The frenzy above the golden ore seeker on the surface was a powdery cloud of blood, flesh and unbridled madness. This brave warriors passions and hungers to escape became the overwhelming basis to the matrix of the unconscious collective of the animals at war with each other above. A flower that was never grown before there or anywhere emerged in the turmoil under the dusty rancor which was not being harmed by any abuses from the melee. This botanical life form sprouted out of the deep green soil and even darker green clay beneath it in a spontaneous generation from the hurt lord of the killings own blood. He had banged so fervently upon the impenetrably dense walls of his magically formed hell hole that his own blood had stained some of the singing rocks. The blood was purple where he was but previously he had recalled it being blue or green when it had come from cuts as a boy or in various skirmishes, hunts. It trickled upward in an anti-gravitational display of evolutionary instinct and formed into a woody gold sprout in between the finely haired grassy blades. It grew quickly into a woody stem of brown and gold speckles leaves then a richly dark purple pair of petals grew outward from oval crystalline center. The bow-tie like appendages fattened quickly with rubbery resistance to all the herded armies attempts to chew it, trample it, kick at it, urinate or defecate upon it. It wound up growing up to about the height of the common beast engaged in horrible carnage. The flower with the bark-like stems and leathery leaves of brown and specked gold was so hard and thick at its bowed bi-petals that it would make a very similar weapon for the brute below.
T’hurlk was a word which meant something like ‘suns corona’ and it was given to him as a name one day as a purple skinned tribal race on the planet he was transported from had assisted him in finding the precious ore he was searching for. The other usage of the word for these people with frizzy bright orange hair and enormously long, wild growths of armpit and belly hair was ‘do not take too much’. This is because it was believed by them they were dancing on the sun’s corona in their souls where they controlled their bodies on their planetary surface. When they did this, it used a tiny bit of the flaring outer rim of the sun to channel their commands down in a ray of the light springing at them in a shower of harmonious love. If they did something to unsettle the balance such as give in to petty squabbles or behave without respect to their sun god (who would come down usually as a distant born cousin of the feline which flew and had a furry set of nine paws on each of nine legs) then the sun would age, cutting themselves off from the security of their world. Giving to each other, helping their group become happier, doing things which made children more likely to laugh with their elders were all things which strengthened their bond with the sun and made their nine legged feline like deity purr (which they saw as the songs of the loud insects throughout the cave tunnels they lived in).
T’hurlk was a miner and his version of control was to harvest the most possible elemental material of his gods needs for his sun and thus there was a golden opportunity to mature in T’hurlk. Sometimes we get more by needing less and he felt this would lead to more ore. It wasn’t very long after this he wound up in the prison by the peacefully pink river which flowed beside the caucaphony of the probably millions of animals abounding upon the mountain. Annihilating, procreating with, birthing, feeding upon each other at a monstrous pace with reckless disregard for all else but their domination of their immediate space. T’hurlk did not usually speak many words as was the custom of his people (who spoke what we would consider backwards because they believed they lived their lives in reverse consciousness and when they were released into the next world, their life was experienced in a single moment where the words would be re-uttered ‘forward’ with applied wisdom before their souls would slingshot into the sun for rebirth). He accepted the name gracefully and left with pride in their friendship.