Zein: The Reckoning by Graham J. Wood - Book Tour
Zein: The Reckoning
by Graham J. Wood
by Graham J. Wood
Summary:
The nightmare continues. Returning to Earth, Kabel and Tyson are fighting different battles.
Kabel angry and struggling to restrain his feelings for Gemma, and Tyson fighting an internal battle
with the methir still coursing through his body; the magics are growing stronger.
On Earth, the Cabal are tightening their grip on the control of the zinithium and the fearful population.
Their ruthlessness is supported by Zylar aggressively pushing his domination plan forward,
and his desire for revenge on the Blackstone brothers is all consuming.
The odds seem high, almost unimaginable. Into this despair stride the conflicted brothers with the
support of their companions. Despair, defeat and death will face them. Now is the time to fight back,
to face the ultimate battle of good versus evil, for the sake of the Earth,
the universe and their own internal peace.
Kabel angry and struggling to restrain his feelings for Gemma, and Tyson fighting an internal battle
with the methir still coursing through his body; the magics are growing stronger.
On Earth, the Cabal are tightening their grip on the control of the zinithium and the fearful population.
Their ruthlessness is supported by Zylar aggressively pushing his domination plan forward,
and his desire for revenge on the Blackstone brothers is all consuming.
The odds seem high, almost unimaginable. Into this despair stride the conflicted brothers with the
support of their companions. Despair, defeat and death will face them. Now is the time to fight back,
to face the ultimate battle of good versus evil, for the sake of the Earth,
the universe and their own internal peace.
Information about the Book
Title: Zein: The Reckoning (Zein #3)
Authors: Graham J. Wood
Release Date: 27th February 2020
Genre: Sci-Fi
Page Count: 294
Publisher: Clink Street Publishing
Excerpt
The
cold, steel floor soothed the bruising to her body. She allowed her eyes to
move around the room, not sure what she was seeking but trying to take some
comfort from the protection the sparsely furnished cell provided. There was a
small dirty sink with only the cold tap working, next to a steel bed frame,
which held a hard and inhospitable mattress. A toilet with no seat made up the
only other piece of equipment in the room. She raised her hand to her face,
wincing when her hand touched the swelling around her eye. It was not the only
mark her body carried, as the canvas of bruises and swellings across her body
evidenced. The room was warm, which, since she was not provided with the
dignity of any clothes, was a relief. She curled her knees to her chest in
comfort and hearing footsteps hurriedly shut her eyes.
The
guard opened the feeding hatch to the squalid room and pushed in the
unappetising food through the opening, consisting off stale bread, a lump of
cheese which had seen better days and a glass of water. He noted the figure on
the floor didn’t move at the noise of the tray scraping on the steel floor but
remained in the foetal position, curling into herself for protection and
comfort. The guard waited to see if she moved towards the door. He saw the
previous food to the side, untouched and just as unappetising as the food newly
introduced into the room.
He
was not a nice man, one of Zylar’s mercenaries who witnessed dreadful acts of
wanton violence over the years. He remembered the day when the girl arrived,
dazed, unsure, scared. He watched as she was taken to Zylar’s sleeping quarters
frequently, returning the same night, always in worse shape; bruises prominent
on her face, arms and legs. His orders were not to talk to her, and to feed her
sparingly.
In
the room, the girl’s eyes flicked back open, staring at the bleak wall facing
the door, the nightmare so raw and present in her young mind. She sensed the
brute of the gaoler was watching her who, in her eyes, was just as bad as the
rest. She remained motionless deciding not to give the monster any fun. Her
abused body rested on the cool floor, aches and pains assailing her. Zylar was
brutal. His anger ever-present and for now, the young woman bore the brunt of
it. She closed her eyes and drifted off to a never-ending cycle of nightmares,
her mind on the safety of her home planet and the loving arms of her mother.
The
hard, tough gaoler took no pleasure for what he was witnessing and a crumb of
sympathy crept into his twisted mind. He was in two minds to provide a bowl of
hot and nutritious soup and straight away cast out of his head the mad thought
as quickly as it came to him; he knew not to cross Zylar, not if you wanted to
live. He sighed and then pulling the shutter back up into place, he slammed the
feeding hatch shut and made his way to a seat nearby.
When
the girl awoke with no recollection of how long she slept, no surprise as she
was at a loss what time of day or night it was, she climbed onto the
unwelcoming mattress. Though hard and relatively unyielding, her body accepted
the slight improvement in comfort. After what seemed like minutes, which in
fact was hours; time standing still in the inhospitable room, the door slid
back and she let out a small moan of fear. She frequently prayed that the lack
of attention over a period of time would continue. Now that seemed unlikely.
Even in the short time, she had known him, she witnessed the dramatic change
with his demeanour. If there had been a shred of humanity, if that was the
correct term for a Zeinonian, or decency within him, it was gone now. He
neither seemed to take enjoyment or pleasure from the abuse he wielded out as
he dominated her. He was very much like a machine, actions almost robotic. He
hardly talked to her through those terrible nights but when he did his voice
was cold, distant…he reminded her of one of his creations, the Ilsid.
‘Get
up,’ said the woman standing next to the gaoler. She was an old woman who was
assigned to look after her prior to being presented to Zylar for his
gratification. Her lined, weary face spoke of her hard life experienced
courtesy of the Eastern Quadrant. There was also a trace of sympathy in her
tone of voice as she watched the young woman gingerly stand up. The old woman
offered a robe to her, which Gemma gratefully took, surprised by the gesture.
The young women knew the process as she was led down the corridor of the ship.
First the shower and then cream for her bruises and then food.
Later
after eating what was a decent meal she rested on a sofa in the medical bay.
Her sleep was fitful and full of unpleasant memories. She thought of Kabel and
wished he was here to take her away from the pain.
The
old woman returned later in the evening.
‘Time
to go,’ she said. Her voice clipped but her eyes offering some warmth.
‘Please
no, I can’t take it anymore,’ said the young woman.
‘Believe
me when I say it would be folly for you not to come with me,’ said the old
lady, not unkindly. She placed her hand on the young woman’s wrist and helped
her stand up from the sofa. The young woman let her pull her up, tears
cascading down her face. She held the robe closely to her, as if it was a
bulletproof vest to protect her.
‘You
need to take the robe off,’ said the old woman. Her orders were strict; this
young woman was not to be given a stitch of clothing. The robe was her idea, a
small rebellion which kept her sane from the horrific things she had seen since
she was forced to serve him, the fear of reprisals receding in line with her
advancing age.
‘No,
please no,’ the young woman cried, but she knew her one supporter was this
woman and to jeopardise her position as her keeper was a place she did not want
to venture. She reluctantly removed the robe and gently placed it on the sofa.
The old woman took her arm and led her up the corridor. The soulless faces of
the Ilsid, guarding the corridor, stared out, neither looking right nor left,
unaffected by the nakedness of the prisoner. The old woman took the young woman
to a large door guarded by another two Ilsid who stepped out of her way. The
door slid open and they stepped into the copiously richly adorned room. He was
at the window looking out into the depths of space. The old woman patted the
girl’s arm and turned to leave.
‘I
understand you gave this woman a robe today,’ said the cold voice of the man at
the window. Both the old woman and young girl, shook with fear.
The
dark figure turned and his ghoulish mask of a face stared down at the quivering
women in front of him.
‘I
did, Master,’ said the old woman, shrinking away, fearing the worse, resigned
that her miserable life would end this night.
‘No
need to worry, you have served me well and I am not a monster, am I?’ said the
dark figure. He directed the question at the shaking young woman who was trying
to cover her modestly. ‘I feel I may have treated you too harshly my dear. You
know it is all the fault of the Blackstone brothers, don’t you?’ He cocked his
head to one side waiting for a response.
The
young woman swallowed hard to break the dryness in her throat so she could
answer. ‘Ye-s-s, Master,’ answered the young woman.
‘Good,
good,’ said the dark figure and then he turned to the old woman. ‘When you pick
her up later, see she has a robe and check our stores for some clothes. We are
not barbarians, are we?’ The old woman nodded, her fear ebbing slightly. ‘You
can go now,’ he said. The woman didn’t need any more encouragement. With a
remorseful look at the young woman she was leaving, the old woman scurried out
of the room.
As
the door slid shut behind the old woman, the tall figure beckoned to the
remaining figure in the room. ‘Now come forward my dear, it’s time for us to
become reacquainted; time for you to please your Master.’
Inside
her, Gemma felt numb at hearing his favourite phrase but for now, there was no
choice. She reluctantly walked into the arms of her captor. Her silent plea
directed at her friends.
Would
no one come to her rescue?
Author Information
Graham J. Wood was born in Manchester, and grew up in neighbouring Sale.
He coordinates global negotiations outsourcing information technology and business processes,
and his work takes him all around the world. His daughter, Becky, had lifesaving open heart surgery
in 2012 at the age of fourteen; born with the extremely rare heart defect interrupted aortic arch,
she was considered a medical miracle as the condition went undiagnosed until she was thirteen.
Graham and his family have donated over £2000 to Alder Hey & Ronald McDonald Trust
as thanks for saving Becky’s life. Graham and his wife live in Timperley, Altrincham.
He is the author of Zein: The Prophecy (2014) and Zein: The Homecoming (2015) both published
by Clink Street.
He coordinates global negotiations outsourcing information technology and business processes,
and his work takes him all around the world. His daughter, Becky, had lifesaving open heart surgery
in 2012 at the age of fourteen; born with the extremely rare heart defect interrupted aortic arch,
she was considered a medical miracle as the condition went undiagnosed until she was thirteen.
Graham and his family have donated over £2000 to Alder Hey & Ronald McDonald Trust
as thanks for saving Becky’s life. Graham and his wife live in Timperley, Altrincham.
He is the author of Zein: The Prophecy (2014) and Zein: The Homecoming (2015) both published
by Clink Street.
Tour Schedule
Monday 24th February
Tuesday 25th February
Wednesday 26th February
Thursday 27th February
Friday 28th February
Saturday 29th February
Sunday 1st March
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