Wayne Hawkins The Realm

By KEITH CROSS

WAYNE HAWKINS AND THE REALM is a fantasy/thriller.  An action-packed adventure/thriller.It's my first story in this e-book.

There are two novelettes.

The second novelette is CHIEF SITTING MOOSE. This is a uproarious humorous story about Texas natives who take over a saloon.

The chief and his men win the town over with humour as their main weapon.

• Language: English
• Publisher: KEITH CROSS
• Release date: Mar 31, 2024
• ISBN: 9798321500095

Book preview

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Table of Contents

Title Page

Wayne Hawkins The Realm

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

NINE

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TEN

TWELVE

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E book cover art by Miss Samra Faisal-fiverr

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Wayne Hawkins

The Realm

By Keith Cross

INTRODUCTION

Yes, diligence is a virtue.

This is Keith Cross. I always dreamed of being a writer. I’ve studied writing fiction until I dropped. I’ve written many stories that didn’t make the grade, in my estimate. Now finally I’m ready. This is the big moment!

First, about Wayne Hawkins and The Realm: Wayne is a freedom fighter. He never gives in. Right up until the end he will fight. Knowledge is also a virtue, so Saul Rosen leads the Revolution. They call themselves the Resistance. Wayne can only fight and shoot, while Saul does all the planning for their revolution to work. Together they gain they’re freedom from the Gargantuans. These giant, sickly warthog creatures keep them enslaved on a Realm’s fishing boat.

And what about these wizards? The Malfoys. Lucius Malfoy takes a bullet along the way, during his expedition to take the U.S. calvary’s gold. Miranda Malfoy-his beautiful elfin wife is the best wizard in the Realm. Their little daughter plays too.

I’m sure you’ll enjoy the BONUS story after Wayne Hawkins The Realm as well.

The two stories-novelettes are both about factions of avid freedom fighters.

I call it CHIEF SITTING MOOSE. The great American natives take over a saloon.

PROLOGUE

Kneeling at a beautiful wooden altar in a glorious basilica four nuns are holding their rosaries and praying to their god. A glowing picture of Jesus is centred behind the pulpit receiving their holy chants. A giant and regal lion floats into the air above all the faceless parishioners in the church, a dark cloud over the sumptuous nave. The king of felines is hungry for fresh meat and growls ecstatically, smelling the flowing blood. Sniffing the scent he comes very close, but then disappears into the universe.

A growing fire is crackling close by. A band of very restless natives, spirits of the great Apache, no doubt, are circling the flames stomping a passionate rain dance. Fear and tensions arise and manifest into flame-like spirits floating menacingly, circling in a wobbly, drunk fashion crowning the fire. Then a wallop of a thunderclap resounds, and a heavy sheet of dark rain falls in a violent fashion below the sinister black clouds from above. As the black water drenches Lucius Malfoy from head to toe a sharp, acrid gas cloud floats into his atmosphere melting the rains but raising a fear of death in him.

Suddenly our wizard wakes to a warm, soft touch on his face. He shivers under a cold sweat on his skin. As his blurry vision subsides, he beholds a beautiful, dark-haired young elfin-woman sitting beside him looking into his eyes. Puzzling out what manner of manifestation this is he suddenly recalls who she is.

Miranda.

Lucius, welcome back!

Miranda stuns his eyes, bent over him in a matronly, caring manner. Pursing her lips Lucius Malfoy’s alluring mage apprentice’s eyes shine brightly. Her pointy elfin ears are looking alert, yet mischievous.

Smiling Malfoy tries to rise but is cut back onto his bed by some excruciating pain.

"Just rest and relax yourself Lucius,

I had to cut that bullet out of you.

And don’t worry your gold is safe. She says. You’re back in your dungeon just where you need to be."

I was keeping watch as we had planned, and I returned you to safety.

Now I’m sure you know how important it is to have your seer mage watching over you through an open portal.

Lucius smiles appreciatively and succumbs to darkness again.

Wayne Hawkins The Realm

Book One

Buzzard Canyon

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ONE

Utah, they call this part of the world. Circa: 1857

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-A startling grey manifestation suddenly blurs fuzzily and then appears in a full-shadow embodiment materializing on the steppe. This at the base of an unnamed butte in Buzzard Canyon. The sinewy, well-chiselled, youngish backpacker knowingly pulls his pick hammer out of a flap from his backpack. Lucius chisels a fracture and drives a rock hammer against the mountain butte twice to create footholds all the way up to the clearing at the top. One step at a time he begins his ascent. Close to the summit, Lucius Malfoy chips his final climbing spike into the last rim spot of the Eagle Nest Mountain butte and smiles knowingly. Pulling himself up he gains footing onto a dry, dusty, flat clearing. Beside him is another hard, sienna plateau grown over with blonde – as- straw shrubs, huddled together in the hot, arid sun. Miles up, the cerulean sky is big, blue, and clear, all around him. Gazing far and wide he scans two distinct mountain buttes below, set beside one another, by god’s design. Then hurriedly Malfoy busies himself with his backpack. Firstly, he wrestles it off his back and places it in front of him. A candle is pulled out, lit and set upon the sandy rock surface, he now stands on. A small brown bag is set beside the candle. As the green candle burns, a trail of scented-smoke wafts from its melting wax to Lucius’s nostrils. Smilingly, he pulls a crooked, wooden meerschaum wand made by his own hand, from his backpack with a crystal setting at the onset of the lower shaft, atop a brass handle where our wizard can grasp it. Carefully setting it on the hard plateau surface he moves on. Now, all he needs is the passing of time. Opening another smaller, upright pocket of his backpack he extracts a small, running hourglass. After judging the time he says,

Not much longer.

Smiling widely, as he hears the light rumbling of horse hooves below, Lucius opens his small brown pouch and pinches a tiny bit of coarse magic dust between his fingers and casts it over himself. And then another more sizable dose is pitched into the wind, a clenched fistful for the convoy of six stagecoaches making a hurried passage some miles below him. Like he’s conducting a frivolous, grand symphony Lucius traces some unforeseen stars pattern with his wand. Then he waits.

TWO

- Far, far below six brightly-painted; deep red stagecoaches, with a beautiful, golden script for design are being pulled with a snorting team of muscled quarter horses, making great strides to traverse their bounty to it’s secure destination. Up top one coach, two of the colonel’s finest infantry soldiers sit, roosting in wait for ambush. Standing idly by, but alert the infantry-man passenger