Release date: September 1, 2020
Subgenre: YA fantasy
About Guardian of the Sky Realm:
Maree Webster—an "almost-emo" from the western suburbs of
Sydney—hates school, has few friends, and is obsessed with angels
and fallen angel stories. Life is boring until she decides to steal
a famous painting from a small art gallery that has been haunting
her dreams: swirling reds, grays and oranges of barely discernible
winged figures. There, she meets a stranger who claims to know her
and stumbles into a world where cities float in the sky, and
daemons roam the barren, magma-spewing crags of the land far below.
And all is not well—Maree is turning into something she loves but
at the same time, fears. Most fearful of all is the prospect of
losing her identity—what makes her Maree, and more importantly,
what makes her human.
Guardian of the Sky Realms takes the reader on a journey through exotic fantasy lands,
as well as across the globe, from Sydney to Paris, from the
Himalayas to Manhattan. At its heart, it is a novel about
transformation. Book two of the series will be released in 2021.
Excerpt:
Chapter 3
The Sanctuary
As Maree and Alanar approached the white walls of the Sanctuary,
she was mesmerized by the otherworldliness of the marble stonework,
and the quality of its craftsmanship. More impressive than the
architecture was the simple fact that something the size of five
large city blocks was suspended thousands of yards above the Fire
Lands. “How . . . ?” was all she could mutter, as
they flew toward the largest of the Sanctuary’s golden gates.
Alanar smiled, gazing at her with his piercing eyes. “Do you
remember anything? You and I passed those gates so many times.”
Maree could only respond with a blank expression, no recognition
whatsoever.
“It’s not important. It will all come back to you, including our
wonderous floating cities. They have always been here. Always.”
“Everything has a beginning,” Maree responded.
“True, but there is no Divine who remembers the creation of the
worlds. Even the Heirarchon, who has existed longer than any of us,
does not recall the creation.” His eyes blazed when they met hers.
“If we die in the outer world, our old memories eventually return
to us when we return, and our brief lives in the human world fade
away.”
At first, Maree was impressed with how old the Sanctuary was, and
she gazed at the walls and gates again, in wonder. But Alanar’s
comment about ‘fading’ registered, and an awful feeling came over
her. Does that mean that Mirriam will return and I will disappear? Isn’t
that like dying?
Before she could ponder further her disturbing thought, the
distraction of the Sanctuary was complete. The golden gates opened
for them, and her breath was taken away on seeing the courtyard
before her. There was grass that was more vibrant green than she
had ever seen before, marble statues of lifelike, exotic gods and
goddesses, and pools with fantastic water fountains. A variety of
birds were about, including peacocks, doves, and blue wrens,
flitting about or perched in contentment. More astonishing for her,
was the presence of dozens of Divine, waiting for them, crowding
near the gates, presumably, for her return. They were all dressed
similarly to Alanar and herself, but with slight variations in the
colors of their clothing and equipment. They all varied in the tone
of their skin, hair, and hairstyles, representing a United Nations,
in her estimation. Especially striking were the different color
combinations of their wings and wing tips.
Maree made a rough, but adequate, landing on the platform before
the gate entrance, while Alanar swiftly moved ahead of her, with
excitement. “Divine!” he shouted to the crowd. “Mirriam has
returned! She has been reborn!”
Maree’s face turned red, not just because she was the center of
attention, but also because of the look of delight in the faces of
the onlookers, and the way they followed her every step and
gesture. She noticed one exception—a tall, black-haired woman hung
back from the rest of the Divine, gazing at Maree, with sadness in
her face. Their eyes met for a fleeting moment, and she thought she
sensed an underlying anger smoldering in the Divine’s deep green
pools.
The golden gates closed behind them and Maree glanced around,
trying to take in the imposing courtyard. It was the size of a
football field, the majority of the ground level consisting of
immaculately groomed lawn. White pebble-lined paths crisscrossed
the grass in intricate geometric patterns—she was sure that from a
height it had some special meaning. The courtyard was surrounded by
high walls, which transformed into a high-buttressed ceiling—made
from a light, translucent stone, which allowed the illumination of
the heavens to pass through. It seemed odd that a courtyard would
be covered, but she remembered that everyone who lived in the outer
world could fly, including the Divine’s enemy.
They stopped near the crowd of Divine. The group before them smiled
and parted, allowing a tall, dark-skinned black-winged figure to
approach them. Alanar whispered quickly into Maree’s ear, “This is
Jibrīl—he is the Demiheirarchon—second only to Mikhail, the
Heirarchon of the Sky Realms.”
Before Maree could respond, Jibrīl, all six feet of him, rushed
forward and hugged her. “Ah, Guardian. It is so good to have you
back!”
There were others who expressed the same view, congratulating her
return. Many joined Jibrīl and Maree, touching her shoulders and
wings, or simply hovering nearby.
Jibrīl raised his hands. “Friends! Once again, after a great loss
to the Sky Realms, we have had one of our beloved return! Behold,
Mirriam is here and must be reintroduced to her relic.”
Maree looked to Alanar, mouthing the word ‘relic?’, questioningly.
He leaned over, so only she could hear. “All Divine have something
that is attuned to them, something related to their role in the Sky
Realms that represents who they are. More importantly, it is the
one thing that survives the life and death cycle, unless—” He
paused, biting his lip.
“Unless what, Alanar?” she persisted.
“Unless it is the final death. There are circumstances when a
Divine does not come back . . . this is not the time
to talk about it.”
Maree, obstinately, wanted to pursue the thread of discussion, but
Jibrīl held Maree’s hand and escorted her up a set of wide, white
marble steps to a dais on a platform. As she approached the stone
pedestal, she noticed lying on it a finely crafted bow and a quiver
full of arrows. The quiver was made of white leather, with ornate
embossing and gold trimming, while the bow was constructed from a
pale wood, and it too had gold work at its tips and around its red
leather grip. The arrows were made of the same wood as the bow and
were fletched with golden feathers.
Jibrīl lifted the objects and presented them to Maree. “These are
only attuned to you, Mirriam, and will not function for any other.”
Maree picked them up, and as soon as she did, two amazing things
happened—the weaponry glowed a brilliant white which spread to her
whole body, making her a beacon; and while this light momentarily
pulsed, she had a flash of memory—or so it seemed—where she was
hovering among the clouds, bow in hand, and pulling an arrow out of
her quiver which was strapped to her back. It made her dizzy for a
few seconds.
Alanar was near her. “Are you alright?”
“Ah, not sure. I had a hallucination or something. I saw myself
using this bow.”
Jibrīl laughed. “The transformation has quickened.”
“How can I have a vision,” Maree asked, “when I don’t know how to
fire a bow?”
The Demiheirarchon smiled. “Take an arrow from your quiver, and
nock it to your bow. Shoot it there.” He pointed to a wall a
hundred yards away from the dais.
Maree pulled an arrow from her quiver and saw that it was light and
slim, with a gold-tipped arrowhead, and down-soft feathers at the
fletched end of the shaft. As soon as she picked it up, she knew
exactly what to do. Almost in a blur she positioned her bow
expertly in her right hand, twirling it like a juggler, and quickly
nocked the arrow on the bowstring. She spotted a junction of
several blocks of stone on the target wall and let loose her arrow.
As soon as the missile left the bow, it transformed into a bolt of
golden energy and blasted against the wall, doing no damage at all,
but the crack of the blast echoed in the courtyard. She knew that
her bolt hit the mark a hundred yards away to the inch.
She shook her head in disbelief. She was a master archer, and her
weapon was otherworldly. She saw the Divine around her, and
especially Alanar, grin with delight at her exhibition of skill.
Without thinking, she expertly hung the bow and quiver over her
left shoulder.
Jibrīl motioned for her to come again with him. Alanar followed
behind, but the remaining Divine stayed at the dais, watching the
three disappear into the castle keep.
They entered a hallway consisting of light stonework: browns, pinks
and greens. Maree was still confused by her earlier vision, and
worried she was going to have another. It caused her to be
light-headed, and she didn’t like being out of control.
They entered a large hall. Seated on a high throne was a tall and
muscular, lightly tanned Divine, with a shallow white beard and
close-cropped hair. His wings were a light gray, with deep purple
tips. He didn’t look old, but he had an ancient quality about him,
as if he witnessed eons pass by. It was like viewing a tall,
healthy tree that was a thousand years old.
He stood up and smiled when he saw Maree. “Ah, no doubting it is
Mirriam! You are different, but then again you are the same. It is
always like this.”
Maree was escorted to the throne and the Divine stepped down and
clasped both her hands within his, and warmly shook them. “I doubt
that you recognize me this early, but I am Mikhail—I am the
Heirarchon of the Sky Realms. I rule the five Archons, who in turn
rule the five Realms. You have met Jibrīl, who is second to me, and
he is known as the Demiheirarchon and rules over the Sanctuary.
Those other Divine who have elevated themselves to prominence—often
by deed, are called Elders, and the only other Divine who have
formal titles are those whose function in our society is to protect
the Sky Realms and battle those who threaten us—these are the
Guardians, sometimes informally called Protectors. Alanar is one
such Divine, and you are another.”
Maree was overwhelmed with the formality of Mikhail’s introduction,
as well as the matter of fact way he said it. She simply nodded and
felt hopelessly ignorant.
Mikhail led the small group to an alabaster table near the throne,
and bid everyone to sit. He served all a delightful beverage made
from honey, and sat with them. “Mirriam, you have probably already
absorbed much today and I do not wish to make it more difficult for
you, but it is important that I tell you some of our ways, while
your memories are still submerged inside you. This will help you
over the coming days and weeks. This is also an opportunity for you
to ask questions, and hopefully it will make your adjustment
easier.”
Alanar placed his hand on hers, as a sign of reassurance. She
briefly studied his face, to see if there was more to his touch,
but there wasn’t. She appreciated his mental strength, his
patience.
Mikhail said, “I have already described our leadership. Perhaps I
should talk more of our creed, and our cities. There is a tangible
link that exists between humanity and the Divine, and in past ages
we often provided the role of protectors of our weaker, earth-bound
kin.”
“Why does humanity not know about you?” Maree asked. “If our
kinship is so close, why’re we unaware?”
Mikhail grinned, but there was a layer of sadness as well,
especially in his deep blue eyes. “My dear, there are remnants of
stories of our kind among all the cultures of humanity, but the
years have faded their memory and altered them to myths and
legends. Angels and seraphim, jinn, and efreet; all can be traced
back to human witnesses of our kind. The Conflict that caused the
Imbalance can be found in humanity’s folklore and religions. But
even in current times there are sightings on the rare occasion we
visit the human world in our Divine form.”
“What about those, like me, who suddenly disappear?” Maree asked.
As soon as she asked the question, the blood drained from her
face—she realized her mother and Ayesha would be at their wit’s
end.
“How many adolescents are reported missing in each of humanity’s
years?” Mikhail countered. “Many indeed. And a tiny number of them
are Divine who are reborn.” He paused, seeing the pain in her face.
“You are worried about your human parents, aren’t you?” His dark
eyes had compassion in them.
“Y . . . yes. I forgot about Mum and my best friend.
I have no father.”
Mikhail’s voice softened. “Dear, a birth among humans is a
delightful event but it is not without a discomforting
process—pain. This will be the hardest part of your journey—you
must accept that there will be sorrow for those you once knew, and
especially those in your family. They are still your family, but
you can imagine how difficult it would be to explain who you really
are. This is not possible. We have strict rules on only a few
matters, and this is one of them.”
Maree now had tears in her eyes. “My mother . . .
can’t I even say goodbye?”
“No, Mirriam. It would be too hard on you, and impossible for your
mother to accept, let alone understand.”
She didn’t know how to respond, but her intuition told her that it
was terribly unfair. She said nothing, allowing the conversation to
change course.
Mikhail sighed. “Now, onto other matters of importance. You are a
Guardian and they always work in pairs—Alanar is your partner, and
has been for many hundreds of years, as counted by humans. It is
not always the case that a rebirth brings the same pair back
together, but it is the usual way of things. Over the years while
you were growing up in the human world, Alanar was not able to
function as a Guardian. I should point out, however, that time does
not behave the same way here in the outer world as it does for
humanity. It tends to slip past more quickly and irregularly.”
Maree’s eyes widened, and realized that yet another negative
consequence had been stated, for if time flowed more quickly, then
those she left behind would already have worried themselves sick
for a long time. She bit her tongue, as she could tell that her
concerns would amount to nothing more than just glib sympathy from
the Divine.
Mikhail gazed into her eyes, and she guessed that he understood at
least in part what she was thinking. “I think that we should soon
finish this meeting. It has been a long day for you. Alanar will
show you to your room and allow you time to make yourself
comfortable. Rest and ask questions when you are ready. Alanar is
your partner, and both of you are now, once more, Guardians of the
Northern Sky Realm.”
Maree stole a glance at Alanar again—she couldn’t help but think
that while he was handsome, and gave her plenty of respect by
keeping at arm’s length, he had strong feelings for her. She
wondered if there was an expectation that they were an item
together, or even—and she was definitely getting nervous at the
thought—that they were considered married.
Alanar led Maree through unfamiliar hallways and corridors of the
Sanctuary and eventually up several flights of marble stairs to an
accommodation floor. As she wandered silently with him—and she
noted that he was careful to pick up her need for some personal
space—she tried to distract herself from the thought that she might
be sharing her room with him. It wasn’t that she didn’t think he
was good-looking, or for that matter a hunk, but she wasn’t
prepared for what was happening, nor did she want to have a
physical relationship with anyone.
She reviewed the seven or eight hours since she broke into Azimuth
Gallery and her mind spun with the radical events that had
happened. As she thought about the many things Alanar and Mikhail
had said she wondered more and more about her personal identity. I am Maree, not Mirriam! Apart from a fleeting moment where she saw herself in Divine form
firing energy arrows, she couldn’t think of herself as anything
other than the girl from the western suburbs of Sydney. The
almost-emo schoolgirl. The awkward teenager who was afraid to ask
Jason for a date because she thought she wasn’t popular enough. The
more she reflected on her identity, as painful as moments of her
life was, the thought of someone else—Mirriam—taking over, seemed
like the death of who she was. It frightened her. It scared her to
death.
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About Gerry Huntman:
Gerry Huntman is a writer and publisher based in Melbourne
Australia, living with his wife and young daughter. He has sold
over 50 short fiction pieces, most of which are dark and for mature
audiences, but he also has a love for middle grade fiction. He
loves travel and gets many of his story ideas from distant lands
and culture, but is equally happy with the cafe set in his
hometown.
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About Meerkat Press:
Meerkat Press is an independent publisher committed to finding and
publishing exceptional, irresistible, unforgettable fiction. And despite
the previous sentence, we frown on overuse of adjectives and adverbs in
submissions. *smile*
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