Descent
by C.L. Roman
Cheri
Roman is a writer, editor, teacher, wife, mother, grandmother and
friend, in whatever order works best in the moment. Most days you can
find her on her blog, The Brass Rag, or working on the next novel in
her fantasy series, Rephaim.
Cheri lives with her husband and two Chihuahuas in St. Johns,
Florida.
Genre:
Epic Fantasy
Publisher:
The Brass Rag
Release
Date: July 1, 2013
Book
Description:
When
Captain Fomor leads his unit of six angelic warriors to Earth in an
attempt to escape the war in Heaven, not only do they unwittingly set
into motion the age of legends, but they must face an inescapable
evil that threatens to destroy them, the humans they fall in love
with, and the Earth itself.
Creating
a new life on antediluvian Earth is no where near as simple as
Fomor’s team had hoped it would be. A tragedy occurs early in their
sojourn that convinces the seven that they must avoid both humans and
fallen angels. But when they unexpectedly meet with the Nephilim, a
tribe of unusual humans with unknown origins, the results are
unprecedented. However, falling in love with humans is the least of
The Unit’s problems.
Mankind
is busily descending into a maelstrom of violence and profane
religion. The Fallen, angels transformed into demons by their
rebellion, have regrouped and are using the tattered remnants of
their power to prey upon humankind in horrific ways. Not only is a
demon demanding human sacrifice in a nearby village, but the world is
careening towards a global disaster that not even The Unit can stop.
Excerpt:
“You must choose
now.”
Captain Fomor’s
quiet voice echoed against stone walls. He stood facing Second
Lieutenants Gant and Phaella in the long, stone hall of the unit’s
barracks. Floor to ceiling windows were spaced along the hallway to
admit a pale, wavering light. Dormers at the top of each casement
were open to admit fresh air and the sweet scent of the gardens
outside. Opposite the windows, spaced widely along the wall, were
doors that he knew opened onto meeting rooms and domiciles, and, at
the far end, a set of double doors that led to the dining hall.
Outside, the faint
sounds of battle drew minutely closer through the flickering light.
Gant raked strong fingers through his black curls and turned hazel
eyes to assess Phaella’s reaction. They were a matched pair, even
calling each other “brother” and “sister,” though there was
not, could not be, any such blood tie between them. In truth, their
relationship was more like that of siblings than co-workers or fellow
soldiers. Created at the same time, they might have been cast from
the same mold with similar abilities and talents. Even their thought
patterns matched more often than not.
Both sported a
compact, athletic build and olive skin. Black, curly hair topped
attractive, long nosed faces with strong jaw lines and dark,
expressive eyes. The resemblance didn’t stop with the physical. The
pair possessed a keen intelligence and were as loyal and steadfast as
dogs but with a fierceness in battle that bore greater resemblance to
the wolves Sabaoth had created than to those companion helpers of
human kind. It pained Fomor to require them to make this choice.
“What you ask is
not easy Captain Fomor.” Phaella avoided her captain’s eyes by
keeping her own on the floor as she toyed with her long, black braid.
After a moment she looked at him, “Sabaoth has not even called us
yet.”
“Sister,” Gant
reached out to put a gentle hand on her arm. “Would it be better to
wait until He summons us into battle, and disobey Him?”
Phaella’s breath
sucked in, her dark eyes widening as she shook her head.
Gant turned back to
his captain. “What of Sena?”
“Lieutenant Sena
waits for us below,” Fomor replied. “She, Volot and Jotun have
chosen not to fight in this war.” An explosion, perhaps two hundred
cubits outside the corridor, rocked the trio and sent smoke drifting
into the wide hall. Fomor ignored the interruption, merely brushing a
few strands of black hair out of his eyes before continuing. “Adahna
went ahead to find a sheltered area where we can settle in for…”
he stopped. It was hard to admit, even to himself, that he didn’t
know how long they would need to shelter on Earth. “She asked me to
remind you that we are all children of the same maker. It is not
right for siblings to kill one another.”
Trouble clouded
Phaella’s gaze. “Still, to disobey…”
For the first time
Fomor’s pale skin reddened slightly and his voice held a cold edge.
“We cannot disobey an order that has not been given. This is the
point Phaella. To leave before it is given.”
A trumpet sounded
outside, followed by another detonation, closer this time, and the
air became dense with smoke.
“Decide quickly,
or the call will come, and it will be too late.” Fomor spun on his
heel, the fastenings on his boots glinting in the dim light, and
shifted, disappearing in a flash of green sparks.
Phaella and Gant
stared at one another, misery shared, but not lessened. How did one
choose between abandoning Sabaoth and fighting, perhaps killing,
fellow angels? It was as if a father were asking his children to
fight one another; an impossible choice.
In the end Gant
reached out his hand, “I cannot leave Sena.”
Phaella’s smile
was dim, but determined. She gripped his fingers with her own, “And
I will not leave you, brother.” A third blast struck the hall,
raining bits of marble and dust down upon the siblings until the dark
blue of their tunics looked gray.
“Well
then, sister, time to move?” Gant forced a grin and the two stepped
together into the fog shrouded corridors of the Shift. Light and
sound from the hall they left behind was cut off as suddenly and
effectively as a slammed door. Cold pressed against their skin
through the fluid dark, while frigid gray fog probed their faces,
pressed against lips and eyes, clinging and trailing behind as they
moved through what seemed to be an endless, black expanse.
