Hey, author Lucius Beauchamp just left us a little note with some excerpts from the book! Have a read...
Hello, I’m Lucius Beauchamp and I’ve written a fast-paced fantasy novel, called ‘Beyond Atlantis: An Epic Of The Ancient Americas’. Right now, I’m discussing seers and seeing.
Excerpt:
“Seth was beside her, ‘Pity there isn’t any left. I just bought the last tubs.’
‘Salt and Genko honey. It must be good.’ She turned to Seth, smiling. ‘Seth, next time you’re this way, drop in.’ Then she lowered her voice so only he could hear, having just seen something. ‘And, please, make sure, very sure, you’re near a village in…’ Zithia looked harder behind him, ‘three months’ time.’ He began to laugh. ‘Don’t, there’s a dark shadow at your back;’ Seth’s lips lost the smile, ‘it worries me.’ It was in fact a cloud, and a death, if he were alone then.
Seth stopped laughing. He gave Zithia a look which was hard to read. Finally, with deepening gravity, ‘I’ll bring truffles for you next year.’”
Excerpt:
“Whirling around and simultaneously stepping back, Zithia bumped into a young Phoenician. A brick wall! She’d felt a solid wall where the normal tunnel of years should be. He had no future at all. Gulping, Zithia swayed and the Phoenician took hold of her bare arm to steady her. There it was again, a threat so amorphous it was inescapable. His life would end within months. No seer could point a way beyond that wall. Rare, so very rare. Both apologising, Zithia watched his retreating back, and badly needed a drink. “Too much… too much… to do.” Zithia thought, then steeled her mind, putting this pain away for another time.”
Seers are with us from the time of fables and myths of the gods. The Emperor Tiberius of ancient Rome had a true seer, Thrasyllus. Yet even he couldn’t always satisfy his erratically dangerous patron and was scheduled, by that monster, to be thrown down a Capri cliff for not coming-up with the goods. Thrasyllus had come up with a right prophecy, in the nick of time.
Then there was poor Nostradamus, terrified of The Spanish Inquisition. Who wouldn’t have been? Seeing into his own future, Nostradamus saw death at the hands of The Inquisition. Hence, his throwing all the single-quatrains in his Book of Prophecies up into the air, then collecting the pages up randomly. Nostradamus then looked, once more, into his future. The burning death was still there; without benefit of smoky wood. So, he tossed his quatrains up into the air a second time, and he saw a better death; a natural death.
Of course, we can’t forget the legendary Cassandra, of Troy. Legendary for being somewhat foolhardy. I mean, you don’t make a deal with the god Apollo to have his child in exchange for the gift of prophecy, then renege on the deal. It’s not going to end well. And it didn’t. Apollo arranged that no one ever believed Cassandras’ prophecies; so, she took to drink.
To summarise, being a seer has always been a complicated issue. And, whether a seer can truly tell the future, isn’t as important as whether or not he can survive being able to tell the future. What are your thoughts on this?
Excerpt:
With lightning rushing to greet the barbarians, not only sulphur made their guts wrench. That most feared God, the God of lightning, was among them. Sheets of power forked across the ground, felling dozens of the pure race. Repeatedly, the riverbed exploded and sprayed molten sand. Dripping glass sculptures remained and pressure waves threw barbarians into the glowing glass pools. Where some lay stuck, in death or dying.The false day reached the refugees, the sky pulsing green. From the Safety of the hillside they saw it all, with deafening thunder rocking them. Dodging lightning bolts, the barbarians ran when they could to slid into super-hot streams of glass where their flesh seared so completely that bare-bones were exposed among living tissue. There was screaming at newly blackened limbs and sizzling holes within a shoulder or thigh, created by actual lightning strikes. And then more astral screams as the black shadows of the underworld chased and fell upon the freshly dead. Only a handful survived. It was another mist-night.*Tancah. Ten ships comprising another fleet had landed. Gold. Mounds of gold was being turned into ingots for shipment to the Far World.The gangplanks were sunk into the pink sand by the tread of disembarkingwarriors.The scarred pyramids were towers with large stone tablets standingon top. Not very wide, with ladder-like stairs, each had an almost sheerdrop at the back. Saplings burst forth in unexpected places among the ruins.The seventh ship to dock was grander than the others. Its occupants always liked to be seventh, from superstition. Rhaim, the commander-in-chief hurried to meet these new arrivals. They were the main reason he’d come back to Tancah. After all, he didn’t want their leader to take offense. In black clothing with wide purple edging, the thirteen glided down the gangplank. Weary soldiers made hasty signs in the group’s direction while dropping their eyes. Even with a close trimmed mustache, the outlines of the first face were a death mask. Udo, the leader. Tall, white-haired and eyes robin’s-egg blue. The whole group was from similar molds.Not on land yet, Udo glanced at Tancah. A connoisseur, he breatheddeeply of the destruction. Then he put a foot hard on the sand and dogs began to howl. A flock of monarch butterflies, resting on their way to their wintering ground, filled the air. Raising his hand to the sky, Udo cut a swath through the gossamer wings. The lovelies rained down among the pyramids, while the coven roared with laughter.Invisible to everyone, a watcher hovered over the beach within sight of the ships. As one, the black-garbed group turned to look at him, eyes burning. Languidly, Udo said, ‘Kill.’Two men vacated their flesh so utterly that their bodies fell to the ground. Their spirits were shadow hounds. Instantly the temple flyer telepathed the sight to his temple, then spirit claws were on him. Dying, screams filled the heads of other flyers.The murdered watcher’s body, seated in the temple chamber, spasmed and went limp. A high priest wiped the corpse’s brow, ‘Where is the other?’Simultaneously, Udo’s face was in the room, hanging in mid-space.Gloating, he disappeared. Then he was back at the beachfront. ‘Find the other watched.’The two dark hounds pounced forward, but Udo’s snarl sent them scurrying into their bodies. He believed in sharing and signaled a fresh pair.
Dear Supernatural Central, Thank you for hosting my book BEYOND ATLANTIS: AN EPIC OF THE ANCIENT AMERICAS, BY Lucius Beauchamp, on November 26th, during the book's Bewitching Book Tour.
ReplyDeleteRegards, Lucius Beauchamp.