Category Archives: The Chronicles of Sera Blake

What I’m Doing Now:

I just started work on my sequel novel. Here’s an early look (I just wrote it a couple days ago):

 

Into the Realm, Book 2:

The Chronicles of Sera Blake, Book I

R.w.Foster

Chapter 1

Sweat flew through the air in time to the rhythmic slap of the rope against the floor. Though she stared at the gym mirror, Sera Blake did not register the frizz of her soaked curly brown hair, the flush of her skin, nor the ripple of well-defined muscles exposed by the navy sport bra and training shorts. Her focus was on her upcoming match against Broderick Stevenson, star lacrosse player at Johns-Hopkins University. He was a formidable opponent: Currently at ninety-five wins, two losses, and three decisions. Of his victories, ninety were by knockout. She didn’t care about his record too much. The more important thing was his reach. At eighty-four inches, she would have to get in close. He hadn’t won a match by submission since the early days of his career, so she figured that was the strategy to employ. Still, it wouldn’t do to underestimate him.

Her mentor, Georges Juarez, had made that mistake. He’d gone six rounds with Stevenson without really being touched. Georges had Stevenson bleeding from his nose, lower lip, and a mouse under his right eye. Before the final round, her mentor had told her to watch closely.

“I’m gonna jab with my left, hit him with a right hook, and then I’m gonna put him down with Blitzkrieg.

Sera gave a mental chuckle at the silly name Georges had given his devastating left haymaker. Ordinarily, it was a match-ender, but it was not to be that night. Stevenson had tanked her mentor’s hardest punch and unleashed three rapid-fire uppercuts to his jaw, putting Georges to the mat, and later to the hospital. Georges’ jaw had been broken in four places.

Most folks who followed the underground Mixed Martial Arts scene figured that the upcoming fight was a misguided attempt at revenge. Sera like Georges, but didn’t care about his loss. The way she saw it, Georges was irrelevant. Broderick Stevenson was the important one. He was recognized as the best. She needed to beat him so that she would get that recognition. It was her passion, her fire, her life to be the best fighter ever. That goal was paramount; the first thing on her mind when she woke, and the last thing on her mind when she slept.

The snap of a cassette tape startled her out of her reverie. The whirl of the jump rope came to a halt, and she noticed she was dripping wet and breathing hard. She walked over to the wall and hung up the rope. She whipped sweat from her face with the towel on the bench below, and drained a liter of water in several long swallows. She dropped the bottle next to a couple other empties and swapped out Fall Out Boy’s Save Rock and Roll tape for Metallica’s S&M. The sounds of cheering fans echoed from the house’s sound system as she walked into the shower. She undressed to the sounds of The Ecstasy of Gold and started washing to the notes of The Call of Ktulu.

 

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A new type of Raw Into the Realm post

I’m including links to music that I feel would enhance the reading of the selections. The links will open in new windows, so while the music plays, read the selection. I hope this experiment does make it better. Let me know in the comments below?

Start.

The punches of the Chronomancer rained down on Carter. He paid them no heed, too numb by what he’d done. A distinct crack as his jaw gave way under the other man’s heavy hits. Her screams, and begging echoed through his mind. Though she pleaded with him to stop, he did not. He’d given into his baser urges like an animal. He deserved this. Everything. His eyes gushed water when his nose was broken.
Sera ran over and grabbed Robilar’s arm. “Stop hitting him!” He growled and shook her off. “I mean it, he’s not responsible for what happened to Dearbhaile! Look at him!”
“He makes me fucking sick. To think I looked up to the bastard.” He whirled on the smaller woman. “And how dare you try to defend him! I caught him!”
“Would the Carter Blake you know rape his beloved? Would he just stand there and take the beating you’re giving him?”
Both men turned to look at her. “Speak sense, girl,” the Chronomancer growled.
“Look, I don’t know my brother as well as you do, Robilar, but I do know he’s not the type to rape.”
“There’s the slight problem of I caught him in the fucking act!”
“Maybe he wasn’t in control,” she said.
“Stop trying to defend him, Sera! His actions are inexcusable and indefensible.”
“What if Drago used a spell to control his body and mind? Will you condemn Carter for what is entirely plausible?”
“Check,” Carter mumbled. The pain of the shattered jaw was excruciating, but he could deal with it.
Robilar growled, not willing to give them the satisfaction of trying to excuse the bastard, yet there was a small feeling wiggling at the back of his mind. ‘What if she’s right?’
“I’ll call Dearbhaile.” A big hand on her shoulder stopped Sera. She glanced up to her big brother shaking his head. “No? I don’t know of anyone else who has the kind of power to tell.” Carter slapped Robilar’s chest, driving him back a couple of steps. “Robilar? Do you know of someone?”
He rubbed his sore sternum. ‘Shit. I forgot how strong the Walker really is. Sera wasn’t kidding about him allowing me to hit him. That slap felt like he was smacking the back of my ribs from the inside. Ow.’
“Yeah,” he croaked.

Start.

Robilar concentrated, and pulled on the time stream. A sparkling orange portal appeared. He reached into it and, with a mighty heave, withdrew a wizened Snebbli. He collapsed against the stone wall, breathing hard. The Snebbli glared up at the Chronomancer.
“What do you want, Time Mage?” he squeaked. He could only point at Sera and Carter. The Snebbli’s eyes widened when he saw the Walker of World’s, and he knelt.
“We need something done for us,” Sera said.
He shook his head. “I cannot. If I do it, bad things wil-”
Carter yanked him up by the collar and held him there. “Do it.”
The little being blanched, then nodded his head. Carter set him gently on the floor. Eyes closed, he touched the big human’s hand. A crackle of electricity echoed through the room. He slowly looked up at the Walker. Carter’s insides turned to ice. His heart pounded in his ears. His body shook. The elderly wizard nodded. “He used the Fist of Ra.”

Start.

Sera held her breath, bracing for the explosion. Her hands felt clammy. The room tilted crazily as she trembled. ‘I should get out of here before he loses control. Move, feet!’ Sweat broke out on her brow as she watched her brother.
His veins popped out in his neck. His throat worked, trying to release the feelings building within him. His big hands bunched to fists, knuckles crackling and veins popping out. Carter’s chest heaved like bellows building a fire. He shook his head side-to-side. His eyes showed the sclera clearly before they turned a glowing electric blue and he bellowed, a primal scream. With an explosion that knocked dust from the ceiling, he vanished. Goosebumps raced over her body.
Dearbhaile ran in. “Do nae tell Carter what happened,” she yelled.
“Too late,” said Robilar. “He’s gone.”
“Oh, shit.”