Winds of Change

By Dillon Blaine

Missing! Three girls! Doesn’t anyone care? Not the Sheriff. Not the neighbours. A rising force of danger is accompanied by wind and storm, threatening the lively burgh of Greenfield. Past evil and haughty judgmentalism blossom and threaten to revisit the seemingly peaceful town. A tale of mystery and suspense that has the innocent on edge. Bertram, Gautier and Robert Clairville seek answers in their typical three-pronged way. As they pursue the truth a rising wind howls with increasing malevolence and, in a supernaturally unguarded moment, Gautier comments, “’e objects.” Will forces of nature prevail, or will the comrades uncover the truth in time to save the missing girls?

Winds of Change is Book IV in The Sword and the Spirit Adventures.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dillon Blaine
• Release date: Nov 13, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311521484

Dillon Blaine

Dillon Blaine is a historian, philosopher, and a student of human psychology. The Sword and the Spirit Adventures are his way of exploring the human condition and the need for encouraging generosity between people. The Sword and the Spirit Adventures are exciting and intriguing fictional stories of human suspense, drama, and humour, set in 14th century England. They follow three heroes as they solve mysteries and fight to right the wrongs of the powerful against the powerless. The three symbols of the sword, the Greek letter psi, and the cross, represent the specific contributions of the three heroes to each adventure.

Book preview

Winds of Judgement

The Sword and Spirit Adventure Series

 ψ 

Book IV

by

Dillon Blaine

Published by Dillon Blaine at Smashwords

Copyright 2014 Dillon Blaine

ISBN: 9781311521484

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This book is dedicated to my parents

who introduced me to love.

Prologue

Emery here is considering a priestly vocation, Father Gabriel, and would appreciate your views on the matter. What would you say to someone so considering? began Brother Bertram as he sat in the empty pew at the front of the Church of St. James the Apostle.

Father Gabriel, aged but alert with warm blue eyes, sat opposite, and perceiving that this may become a lengthy discussion, indicated that Emery should also sit.

Tell me about it, my son. Brother Bertram has made the assay, now you complete the tale.

Emery paused to gather his thoughts, thoughts that were like late autumn’s swirling leaves blown by a brisk chilling wind, circling, rising, falling – a mixture of shape and colour and identity. How to begin?

Well Father, since boyhood – really since my mother died – my father tried to prepare me for military service. He tried to toughen me with severe demonstrations of power, and he tried to train me in arms by his sergeants and guards. It has been clear to me, clear to everyone, that this attempt was futile. Emery smiled at Bertram. God knows, and so do my friends, how clumsy am I with arms.

His three friends – Bertram, Gautier, and Robert Clairville – had indeed witnessed his inability with sword and shield. Gautier in particular had spent countless hours trying to teach Emery to move his gangly arms with precision, and think strategically like a warrior, with only humorous results.

Since I was orphaned some months ago, pain flitted across his light coloured face. He deliberately left out the part of the tale in which Gautier had slain his father to prevent his father from killing Robert. I have been travelling with my friends. They have, in a manner of speaking, adopted me. He grinned, the embarrassed youth still in evidence. Through our experiences I have begun to see the wonders of God’s glory – wonders I could never begin to explain in words. And, I have seen how good people, devoted to God’s service, might be used beneficently for the sake others. Emery now turned serious and mature, And so, recently, I have been thinking that the best way out of my old life and into a new one – a new life with purpose and meaning – may well be the priesthood.

Father Gabriel caught Bertram’s eye with a glimmer of amusement. Quite a speech for an adolescent barely past childhood! Emery was fourteen years old, soon to be fifteen, but mentally somewhat older by virtue of experience born of hard use by his father. However, it was obvious that he was a thinker, not a fighter.

Sunlight poured through the windows at the south side of the church and dust moved artistically in its rays, a tranquil solemn procession as befitting the dignity of this holy place. Father Gabriel looked fondly around at the church that had been his home for the past twenty three years, and recalled some of the scenes of triumph and disaster that had played out on this very stage during his tenure. Here was one considering a beginning, just as he was considering an end. Ironic? Providential? Perhaps.

My son, this is a discussion we should have over several days because, if you want my counsel, I will demand your attention. This is too serious a topic for childish dallying. Are you in earnest?

I am Father! replied Emery with a touch of youthful enthusiasm. He was naive, too naive to appreciate what lay behind the door at which he was knocking.

"Very well. With the permission of the good Brother here, who seems to be acting a guardian’s role, you will stay with me for a few days and we will contemplate this calling . . . this perhaps calling."

Thank you Father! I will so!

Bertram responded heartily, "My permission is not needed. Emery is his own man. I am merely friend