Beyond Atlantis: An Epic of The Ancient Americas by Lucius Beauchamp

 

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Beyond Atlantis: An Epic of The Ancient Americas

Lucius Beauchamp

Genre: Fiction, Fantasy, Adventure

ISBN: Paperback 978-0-6488929-0-8  

ISBN: E-book 978-0-6488929-1-5

ASIN: 0648892905 

ASIN: B01I4OMBVY

Number of pages: 448

Word Count: 158,240 

Cover Artist: Flametree Creative

Tagline: Greater Atlantis, where The Guardian Tribe roam

Book Description: 

10,000 years ago, ancient Atlantian Tribes of magicians flourished in the lower Americas and along the Mississippi. 

Galen, an Atlantian magician priest is locked in a relentless power struggle with an envious sorceress who blackmails, lies, and manipulates. A prince of the blood, Galen is determined that nothing will stop his becoming an Archpriest.

Eten, blackest witch and high priestess sees angels and seeks a forbidden treasure. She finds Galen’s curse of having a soulmate particularly helpful. 

Half a millennia ago the Island of Atlantis sank off the Biminis, the 13th Tribe was held responsible for the demise of Atlantis. The surviving Atlantians stripped the 13th of all technology and exiled them. 

Vengeful, the 13th Tribe wishes to return but the 13th’s warlocks fear crossing into Greater Older Atlantis. They do not dare set foot on the Guardian-protected land. The great Guardian Tribe possess a formidable circle of psychics who roam North America keeping constant vigil to keep Greater Older Atlantis safe for all Atlantians. 

Amazon

Excerpt:

    With lightning rushing to greet the barbarians, not only sulphur made their guts wrench. That most feared God, the God of lightning, was among them. Sheets of power forked across the ground, felling dozens of the pure race. Repeatedly, the riverbed exploded and sprayed molten sand. Dripping glass sculptures remained and pressure waves threw barbarians into the glowing glass pools. Where some lay stuck, in death or dying.

     The false day reached the refugees, the sky pulsing green. From the Safety of the hillside they saw it all, with deafening thunder rocking them. Dodging lightning bolts, the barbarians ran when they could to slid into super-hot streams of glass where their flesh seared so completely that bare-bones were exposed among living tissue. There was screaming at newly blackened limbs and sizzling holes within a shoulder or thigh, created by actual lightning strikes. And then more astral screams as the black shadows of the underworld chased and fell upon the freshly dead. Only a handful survived. It was another mist-night.

                                                               *

Tancah. Ten ships comprising another fleet had landed. Gold. Mounds of gold was being turned into ingots for shipment to the Far World.

     The gangplanks were sunk into the pink sand by the tread of disembarking

warriors.

     The scarred pyramids were towers with large stone tablets standing

on top. Not very wide, with ladder-like stairs, each had an almost sheer

drop at the back. Saplings burst forth in unexpected places among the ruins.

     The seventh ship to dock was grander than the others. Its occupants always liked to be seventh, from superstition. Rhaim, the commander-in-chief hurried to meet these new arrivals. They were the main reason he’d come back to Tancah. After all, he didn’t want their leader to take offense. In black clothing with wide purple edging, the thirteen glided down the gangplank. Weary soldiers made hasty signs in the group’s direction while dropping their eyes. Even with a close trimmed mustache, the outlines of the first face were a death mask. Udo, the leader. Tall, white-haired and eyes robin’s-egg blue. The whole group was from similar molds.

     Not on land yet, Udo glanced at Tancah. A connoisseur, he breathed

deeply of the destruction. Then he put a foot hard on the sand and dogs began to howl. A flock of monarch butterflies, resting on their way to their wintering ground, filled the air. Raising his hand to the sky, Udo cut a swath through the gossamer wings. The lovelies rained down among the pyramids, while the coven roared with laughter.

     Invisible to everyone, a watcher hovered over the beach within sight of the ships. As one, the black-garbed group turned to look at him, eyes burning. Languidly, Udo said, ‘Kill.’

     Two men vacated their flesh so utterly that their bodies fell to the ground. Their spirits were shadow hounds. Instantly the temple flyer telepathed the sight to his temple, then spirit claws were on him. Dying, screams filled the heads of other flyers.

     The murdered watcher’s body, seated in the temple chamber, spasmed and went limp. A high priest wiped the corpse’s brow, ‘Where is the other?’

     Simultaneously, Udo’s face was in the room, hanging in mid-space.

Gloating, he disappeared. Then he was back at the beachfront. ‘Find the other watched.’

     The two dark hounds pounced forward, but Udo’s snarl sent them scurrying into their bodies. He believed in sharing and signaled a fresh pair.  

 

About the Author:

Like Plato, Lucius believed Atlantis existed. Interpreting Plato's description of location, backed up by Edgar Cayce's readings, the Island of Atlantis was off the Biminis. Therefore, for him, the Continent of Atlantis (Greater Older Atlantis) was North America.

https://www.amazon.com/LUCIUS-BEAUCHAMP/e/B01J54XHHO/

Conspiracy of Cats by B C Harris

 

Conspiracy of Cats

B C Harris

Genre: Contemporary fiction, paranormal, murder mystery

Publisher: Olympia Publishers, London

Date of Publication: 26th August 2021

ISBN: 978-1-80074-032-7

ASIN: B09CGHZ7K7

Number of pages: 325

Word Count: 123,121

Cover Artist: Olympia Publishers, London

Tagline: A Beautiful House, A Horrible Death, A Brilliant Revenge

Book Description: 

CONSPIRACY OF CATS… a supernatural murder mystery.

An apprehensive Jos Ferguson travels from Edinburgh to Northern Tanzania to visit the house her Uncle Peter built before he died. But Peter isn’t as dead as he should be… he was murdered, and he wants his niece to help him exact revenge upon his killer. With a little Maasai magic and a conspiracy of cats, Jos sets out to do exactly that.

A beautiful house. A horrible death. A brilliant revenge.

Who knew death could be so lively?

Olympia Publishers     Amazon.uk      Amazon

Excerpt

Looking back, it was as if Peter had known that he was going to die.  

It was as if all of them had known, because the Maasai came prepared for their ritual even though their little brother died only a few hours before they arrived. It was the largest group of Maasai Beola had ever encountered at the white house. At least fifty men, most of them warriors, all carrying their weapons and their shields. Their chests and faces and arms painted as if they were going into battle. She watched them from the master bedroom window, just as she’d watched the police arrive, having gone back up to finish changing the bed so it would be clean and ready when Jude returned. They arrived on foot just before sunset, and it would have taken all day to walk from their village on the western side of Mount Kilimanjaro all the way to the white house.  

Some of the warriors carried armfuls of wood, and immediately began building a large fire in the middle of the lawn. The elders, including their bearded laibon, sat down on the porch steps to rest and, when Beola went out to meet them, they asked only for water. When she offered food they politely refused. When Beola moved to go back inside to fetch the water, a young warrior stopped her. ‘We must leave the white house in peace, little sister,’ he told her, and then he and several of his fellow warriors guided her towards the lodge where they fetched enough water for all. When that was done, the young warrior told her, ‘Word has been sent into the park so your husband and your son will come home soon. When they do, you must be ready to leave.’

‘But why?’  

‘The laibon wishes to cleanse the white house of sorrow.’

Beola knew better than to argue with the wishes of a laibon, and so she nodded, resigned.

‘How long must we stay away?’

‘Moon die and come back again, man die and stay away. Come back with the new moon, sister.’  

Back inside the lodge Beola began to pack, without any clear idea of where her family would go or who they would stay with. By then it was full dark, and the fire was burning so brightly she could see its orange glow above the garage blocking her direct view. Kissi and Ben arrived while she was still packing, in shock at both the death of their friend and the large gathering on the white house lawn. The evening breeze was becoming a wind by then, and the stars were obscured by gathering clouds. The warriors had begun to sing a sorrowful sounding song, their beautiful voices competing with the mounting voice of the wind.  

By the time the Nyerere’s were readying to leave, a storm was in full flow.  

The perimeter of trees bent and swayed in the wind that had initially made their leaves whisper. That wind was howling and shrilling by then, a tempest that thrashed and whipped the leaves and branches. Storm clouds had gathered so close, they were piled on top of one another, grumbling, rumbling, crashing with thunder directly overhead. Lightening split the night over and over. Up on the roof garden, a solitary figure braved the onslaught. The old laibon was yelling into the night, his spells snatched away by the wind that seemed, in turns, to want to blow him away and push him down. Rain pelted down upon him, it blinded his eyes, dripped from his beard, soaked his shuka and chilled his bones. He fought against it, at the same time as he embraced it, arms stretched wide and high. Calling out, over and over, to the spirit of his friend.

As the Nyerere’s were loading up their jeep, another vehicle arrived, lights sweeping across the scene as it circled the lawn. Beola thought that it must be Jude, but it was Henk de Vries, pulling up in his flatbed truck. She assumed he’d heard the news and had come to pay his respects. She ran towards him, but half a dozen warriors barred Beola’s way. They told her to go, to never speak of this night to anyone. Beola struggled against them, and called out to Henk in some distress, but either the wind stole her voice, or the Dutchman chose to ignore her. Kissi was next to her by then and had to impel his wife bodily into the back of his Land Rover as Ben sat quietly weeping in the front. He then got in himself and set off for his father’s home in Arusha, having called ahead to stay there were sanitation issues at their home, so they needed a place to say for a while. As they were moving around the lawn towards the drive, Beola watched Henk lower the tail gate of his truck and saw two warriors lift and carry something towards the fire. Meat for the funeral feast, he told her much later.  

When Kissi’s Land Rover reached the foot of the hill, he turned north towards the main road that would take them to Arusha. They left the storm behind almost immediately. When they reached the top of the escarpment, he stopped and got out. Ben and Beola joined him. Together they stood atop the ridge, watching a small storm rage over the white house.  

About the Author: 

B C Harris is a Scot who, at the time of writing, had just finished renovating a farmhouse in France. A labour of love that began from first sight back in 2016. No sooner had the final length of flooring been laid and the last paintbrush dried, than disaster struck in the form of pandemic. France went into a strict lockdown and, with time to do more than simply daydream about writing books, a new project began to take shape.

Writing began as an escape from the fear and isolation that was soon affecting us all, and quickly flourished to become ‘Conspiracy of Cats'. The global pandemic seems to be receding now, but the passion for writing has taken root. Find out more about B C Harris online.

Twitter: https://twitter.com/BCHarris64 

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorBCHarris 

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/beverleycharrisauthor/ 

Interview https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IuiVm2B-_bo 

Second interview https://anchor.fm/donna-morfett/episodes/BC-Harris-e16hvnk 

Facebook book group https://www.facebook.com/groups/2890431834618695

Goodreads Author page https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/21921104.B_C_Harris 

Article About Author: 

https://chrisrobertsmbe.co.uk/scottish-authors-first-novel-could-be-the-next-netflix-film-or-series/

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

Beyond Atlantis: An Epic of The Ancient Americas

Lucius Beauchamp

Genre: Fiction, Fantasy, Adventure
ISBN: Paperback 978-0-6488929-0-8  
ISBN: E-book 978-0-6488929-1-5
ASIN: 0648892905 

ASIN: B01I4OMBVY
Number of pages: 448
Word Count: 158,240
Cover Artist: Flametree Creative

Tagline: Greater Atlantis, where The Guardian Tribe roam

Book Description: 

10,000 years ago, ancient Atlantian Tribes of magicians flourished in the lower Americas and along the Mississippi. 

Galen, an Atlantian magician priest is locked in a relentless power struggle with an envious sorceress who blackmails, lies, and manipulates. A prince of the blood, Galen is determined that nothing will stop his becoming an Archpriest.

Eten, blackest witch and high priestess sees angels and seeks a forbidden treasure. She finds Galen’s curse of having a soulmate particularly helpful. 

Half a millennia ago the Island of Atlantis sank off the Biminis, the 13th Tribe was held responsible for the demise of Atlantis. The surviving Atlantians stripped the 13th of all technology and exiled them. 

Vengeful, the 13th Tribe wishes to return but the 13th’s warlocks fear crossing into Greater Older Atlantis. They do not dare set foot on the Guardian-protected land. The great Guardian Tribe possess a formidable circle of psychics who roam North America keeping constant vigil to keep Greater Older Atlantis safe for all Atlantians. 

Amazon

Excerpt:

    With lightning rushing to greet the barbarians, not only sulphur made their guts wrench. That most feared God, the God of lightning, was among them. Sheets of power forked across the ground, felling dozens of the pure race. Repeatedly, the riverbed exploded and sprayed molten sand. Dripping glass sculptures remained and pressure waves threw barbarians into the glowing glass pools. Where some lay stuck, in death or dying.
     The false day reached the refugees, the sky pulsing green. From the Safety of the hillside they saw it all, with deafening thunder rocking them. Dodging lightning bolts, the barbarians ran when they could to slid into super-hot streams of glass where their flesh seared so completely that bare-bones were exposed among living tissue. There was screaming at newly blackened limbs and sizzling holes within a shoulder or thigh, created by actual lightning strikes. And then more astral screams as the black shadows of the underworld chased and fell upon the freshly dead. Only a handful survived. It was another mist-night.

                                                               *

Tancah. Ten ships comprising another fleet had landed. Gold. Mounds of gold was being turned into ingots for shipment to the Far World.
     The gangplanks were sunk into the pink sand by the tread of disembarking
warriors.
     The scarred pyramids were towers with large stone tablets standing
on top. Not very wide, with ladder-like stairs, each had an almost sheer
drop at the back. Saplings burst forth in unexpected places among the ruins.
     The seventh ship to dock was grander than the others. Its occupants always liked to be seventh, from superstition. Rhaim, the commander-in-chief hurried to meet these new arrivals. They were the main reason he’d come back to Tancah. After all, he didn’t want their leader to take offense. In black clothing with wide purple edging, the thirteen glided down the gangplank. Weary soldiers made hasty signs in the group’s direction while dropping their eyes. Even with a close trimmed mustache, the outlines of the first face were a death mask. Udo, the leader. Tall, white-haired and eyes robin’s-egg blue. The whole group was from similar molds.
     Not on land yet, Udo glanced at Tancah. A connoisseur, he breathed
deeply of the destruction. Then he put a foot hard on the sand and dogs began to howl. A flock of monarch butterflies, resting on their way to their wintering ground, filled the air. Raising his hand to the sky, Udo cut a swath through the gossamer wings. The lovelies rained down among the pyramids, while the coven roared with laughter.
     Invisible to everyone, a watcher hovered over the beach within sight of the ships. As one, the black-garbed group turned to look at him, eyes burning. Languidly, Udo said, ‘Kill.’
     Two men vacated their flesh so utterly that their bodies fell to the ground. Their spirits were shadow hounds. Instantly the temple flyer telepathed the sight to his temple, then spirit claws were on him. Dying, screams filled the heads of other flyers.
     The murdered watcher’s body, seated in the temple chamber, spasmed and went limp. A high priest wiped the corpse’s brow, ‘Where is the other?’
     Simultaneously, Udo’s face was in the room, hanging in mid-space.
Gloating, he disappeared. Then he was back at the beachfront. ‘Find the other watched.’
     The two dark hounds pounced forward, but Udo’s snarl sent them scurrying into their bodies. He believed in sharing and signaled a fresh pair.  

About the Author:

The author was inspired to write this book because, like Plato, the author believes Atlantis existed. Interpreting Plato's description of the location of Atlantis, backed up by Edgar Cayce's readings, Lucius feels that the Island of Atlantis was off the Biminis. Therefore, for the author, the Continent of Atlantis (Greater Older Atlantis) was North America, USA. Writing this epic has been Lucius Beauchamp’s means of creating a world in which people can escape from the travails and the, at times, seeming randomness of living for a while. A place where readers can take their ease and be refreshed by imbibing this layered adventure as they would a well-deserved drink at the end of the day.

Lucius writing & research skills were enhanced while obtaining a 4-year Degree in Psychology at the prestigious University of Western Australia. This degree included intensive English studies. Lucius attributes much of his understanding of writing to his time at the University of Western Australia. 

In life the author has followed the maxim that what goes around, comes around. Therefore, he does regular simple volunteering that assists inner-city people who are in crisis and/or temporarily homeless. Earlier in life Lucius did Hospice volunteering, which he feels gave a solid grounding, a balance to his life.

To this same desire for balance, especially in Covid times, the author has turned his backyard into a veritable bird sanctuary. Currently, three birdbaths, tall native shrubs and native trees bring in all the local small birds. Lucius has watched fledglings wander the garden in the first weeks out of the nest and an occasional wind-battered adult shelter daily among the honey-blossoms until well. The author set each of the two shallow and one medium-deep birdbaths at a slope, as he’s observed that smaller birds love to strut around a shallow end before diving into the deep end of their swimming pools. Kookaburras are discouraged from hunting geckos in the backyard, it upsets the little birds, though they’re welcome to bathe and drink. The birds, the Spring bobtail lizards and a type of small marsupial that arrives at tree-berry harvest time aren’t bothered by the Beauchamp family dog or cat, as they have a twilight curfew and or bells.

Other than birdwatching, a main interest of Lucius is building a collection of retro, vintage and, infrequently, antique Matchbox Cars. Crossword puzzles, Lucius saves for lazy Sunday afternoons. Some Lucius’ viewing preferences are the Star Trek movies and series, plus Le Carre’s Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy series and the Smiley’s People series.       

Lucius’ wish list is as follows: To tread the USA Appalachian Trail for as long as his legs hold out. To spend two months in Maine one Fall, hiking and just watching the festival of color until the leaves turn then drop. To walk the week-long trek to Machu Pichu. To fish one of the great North American rivers. To take a long sojourn on a paddle steamer down the Mississippi River.     

The author has included many descriptions of mushrooms in his book, several of them poisonous and many varieties that are difficult to differentiate from look-a-like poisonous fungi. Knowing how many people on seeing a mushroom in the wild will be tempted to pick it, Lucius has included a Warning Note at the bottom of the Acknowledgements Page, in the E-book and in the print version.

The author and partner are equal joint-owners and equal co-publishers of Beyond Atlantis: An Epic Of The Ancient Americas.

Lucius’ heartfelt thanks go to author Dave Luckett who originally critiqued Beyond Atlantis: An Epic Of The Ancient Americas and then tutored Lucius, on a weekly basis, for several months.

Further the author’s profound thanks go to Professor Van Iken, who Lucius was fortunate enough to have critique Beyond Atlantis: An Epic of The Ancient Americas, after it had been redrafted following intensive workshops with Dave. Professor Iken then very generously critiqued the book a second time, once Lucius finished an almost-final draft.

Lastly, the author’s greatest thanks go to his partner for all the patience, advice, editing, critiquing, for improving the story’s momentum and for story/scene/dialogue assistance. Together Lucius and his partner created the book’s first short name and then together added the longer version of the name. It was Lucius’ partner who discovered the book’s hook, that is, who found the book’s current first two paragraphs which Lucius had buried further within the chapter.

https://www.amazon.com/LUCIUS-BEAUCHAMP/e/B01J54XHHO/

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