The Golden Odyssey

Watch Ryder

After many, many months I've got to the stage where my new book is almost ready!

Ok folks. This horse is no-longer a one-trick pony, the sequel to my last book is now due to be released June 10th at Amazon!

It's in E-Book format. I know that's a bummer for those that are hard-copy folks but it takes a lot longer to get that ready (should be winter for that). For now kindle-folks get the first shout.

To those who have not yet read Mountain Hold (book 1) it is better (but not necessary) to have read it first.

Taster chapters to book 1 are here:

http://www.boards.ie/vbulletin/showthread.php?t=2057395344

If the works of Robert E. Howard, Tolkien and Heinlen are your thing, then step this way. It has been described as a Lord of the Rings type-saga set in the future. Kind of like Lovecraftian meets epic Wagner, with lavish helpings of Heinlen-style devil-may-care-vibes thrown in!

To get you in the mood, here's the professional-grade cover I had thrown together...

Here's a taster:

Prologue

It was a cold, windy day in Utah, but inside the family workshop it was warm from the log-burner. The vast workshop table was lit up brightly with electric lighting, creating a contrast of old and new. Some strange equipment was sprawled out and in the middle area where Gregory Wynter, patriarch of the Wynter dynasty, worked. His only son, Nikolai Romanov Wynter sat at the first area. Some strange green overalls were hung up on a frame and had cables going from them to where his father worked. He touched them gently, noticing that they felt like coarse silk but had a colder feeling. On the overalls various bulges seemed to project out slightly. The bulges had a faint warmth to them. On the other side of his father was the final section of kit, a helmet and pistol. They too had a similar cable which disappeared into both items. He wanted to take a closer look but already his father had scolded him for getting too close.

Gregory worked on a large case and harness frame and had just managed to pinch off a fat cable with a shrouded clamp.

“Can we build something like this?” asked Nikolai expectantly.

“I don’t think it’s possible nowadays,” Gregory responded. “The liquid power-source, the special materials and crystals, it’s all beyond what we have here little man,” the old man smiled for a moment. “Remember though son,” Gregory Wynter said more sternly. “There are some things about these Artifacts that I dare not tamper with and neither should you, not even when you come of age.”

“Why can’t I play with the helmet? I can see in the dark with it,” the boy sulked.

“Because you’ll play with the gun again and even though it’s unloaded you might activate its other function. I didn’t handle a pistol until I was twenty-five and that was this one. You’re only half the age I was so you have a while longer to go yet little man.”

Nikolai often felt being fourteen sucked. It was like being old enough to start to know a lot but not old enough to do anything.

“That .22 rabbit rifle is ok, but Jerry gets to shoot his dads revolver!” he complained.

“I bet Jerry’s dad would be right over with his check book if he knew we had all this. But tampering too much isn’t going to happen, not on my watch anyway.”

“Can’t we tamper a bit father? Isn’t that how we get better at things?” The curious young boy had asked.

“Yes we should, but sometimes a person needs to make a big innovation or step over and beyond something. That’s what I think the Soliters managed to do.”

Talk of the Soliters was another family tale he’d heard many times. Yet for Nikolai it never really lost its appeal.

“Take your toys for example,” The septuagenarian said sagely. “They are mostly made overseas in great factories and made without any real care or craft.”

“I like my toys though dad,” he replied.

“I know you do son, but most of them will last ten years if you are lucky, five or less is common. Often they break even sooner. Then all the kids need new toys they cannot cherish, keep and pass on easily. This is something very common to big business nowadays. They exist mostly to make money for themselves and not craft anything to last.”

He gestured to the overalls, case, helmet and pistol.

“These are all crafted artifacts, over a hundred years old and they’ve hardly aged in comparison. They’ve been crafted to such a high-standard I can’t even inspect the most powerful elements properly. If I did it could result in breakage. Take the liquid that I clamped off just now. If I let that drain out there’d be no way to get it back inside the internal power-source. I could try removing the internal tubing but that risks breaking the delicate nano-turbines inside. If that happens I don’t know how in the world it can ever be mended.”

“Why not?” young Wynter asked.

“I think the makers of this can craft items beyond our very dreams. Yet they despise manufacture and planned obsolescence common to big business nowadays.”

Nikolai stayed quiet and watched his father work on.

His grandfather received the Artifacts originally, just after the sinking of the Titanic. No name or make decorated the Artifacts but according to his grandfather the Soliters called it a Ryder Unit.

His father had practiced with the device a lot in his younger years out in the desert. He’d made detailed instructions about the idiosyncrasies and niggles common to the equipment. Gregory spent hours making notes, careful adjustments and customizations in the family workshop. His father had never been a dull-blade and his zeal and tinkering skills were understated.

“Remember son, these are a trove of secrets. They are Artifacts entrusted by a special people to us, not toys or for leisure. That gun, for example, may look like an over-and-under shot-pistol but if I ever registered it with the ATF, we’d probably never see it again. They’d just say ‘national security’ as a reason and want to know what else we have.” He chuckled and adjusted the device further.

“I hear those idiots on TV talking about Area 51 and flying saucers. If only they knew the real truth.”

“What’s the truth about that dad?”

“Let’s just say that all of this in the wrong hands would enslave us. It could also set us free if the time was right or we could get it into the right hands one day.”

His father resumed screwing in the last LCD display. The analog-to-digital interface for the small portion of the tube was next.

“What should we use them for then?” the younger Wynter asked curiously.

“Nothing, nothing at all until the time is right. Things are in limbo right now in the world, people are crazy in the head with nonsense. You need to find yourself a good woman, raise a family and in time pass this on to the most deserving of your children. Treat all this as a family treasure from our Soliter brothers and sisters. They are the ones who gave this to your grandfather.”

“Did Grandpa die on arriving here?”

“That’s right. A trio of Bolshevik agents over in Crimea mortally wounded him.”

“What happened? How did he die?”

“He played along with them at first, then tried to get the drop on ‘em. Your granny didn’t remember much after the first few shots. I think she said he fired both his Mauser and this handcannon at once. She was pregnant with me at the time and hiding from the shootin’. When the smoke cleared one Bolshevik was on the floor bleeding out, my father was badly wounded. He finished the dying one off and the other two Bolshies were already out the door. Another was wounded though then killed by the returning bodyguard. He was an idiot for leaving to check on the boat but at least got that right.”

“Wow!” said the boy in awe of the violent memory.

“The last one got away with a head wound I think, the bodyguard took a chunk off his skull or face, so no-one really won anything that day. My mom said that one was a Saken agent.”

“How did she know that? I thought they hid themselves?”

“Not back then so much. ‘Hand over the Soliter items. Give it up and House Saken will take you in.’ She remembered the conversation like it was yesterday.”

“So they fled Russia, the civil war broke out just as they arrived in this fine country. The next war was even worse though. Your granny still thinks we should have told Tesla or the G-Men. Dad was more partial for telling Ford or Hindenburg about it to get them commies running scared but looking back it’s just as well nobody got the Artifacts. It’s a case of waiting and watching for what the Soliters told us would happen,” The old man took a deep breath. “Do you remember what that is son?”

“The light from the earth?” Nikolai said carefully.
His father nodded.

“At that sign is when we’ll know. Only then can we fight with these Artifacts. Until then, they are passed on in trust.”

“Like a caretaker?”

“Exactly, now I need to finish up here; you run along and play with your plastic toys from China! I’ll tinker with the real ones,” old Wynter boomed with laughter and the young child ran laughing from the workshop.


Years past and the son buried his father when it was time. Nikolai fell in love with a fine young woman he knew from childhood. They were married and had three children. Each year on the anniversary of his father’s passing he would check the Artifacts for function of use. He never forgot and it was always at the back of his mind.
On the fateful day of the Blue Sun he was ready and knew what to do.

Copyright: Tyler Danann

Watch Ryder

New, updated cover:

Watch Ryder

America is in ruins and it's up to the Northern League to take care of business!

Here is the trailer for the book, took me nearly a day of work and much, much crafting...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AebFtanz_pU

I kept it short, with not much text but punchy visuals!

Join The Golden Odyssey.

Book available tomorrow 11th June 2015.