The Sea Archer Read online

  Table of Contents

  Excerpt

  The Sea Archer

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Epilogue

  A word about the author…

  Thank you for purchasing

  Also available from The Wild Rose Press, Inc. and other major retailers

  The crowd parted just enough for her to behold the most adorable animal she’d ever seen. It was a seal, maybe four feet in length, with a torpedo-shaped body, short, steel-gray fur, and a white spotted underbelly. A bulbous head, containing intelligent black eyes, smiled back at her, causing her infectious laugh to broadcast over the collective.

  A man she hadn’t noticed knelt next to the seal and turned his head slowly at the sound of her laugh, seemingly searching for someone or something. He wore dark mirrored sunglasses, but somehow, she knew the power of the gaze behind the glasses would be transfixing. With the descending sun on her back, the pendant she wore grew hot and felt like a kind of pressure pushing her back. Raven couldn’t take her gaze off the man as the sun shone on his face, making it awash with light. She could tell his hair was very light and that he had a short beard and muscular body.

  The weight of his stare scared her.

  The Sea Archer

  by

  Jeny Heckman

  The Heaven & Earth Series

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  The Sea Archer

  COPYRIGHT © 2018 by Jeny Heckman

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: [email protected]

  Cover Art by Debbie Taylor

  The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

  Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

  Publishing History

  First Fantasy Rose Edition, 2018

  Print ISBN 978-1-5092-2206-3

  Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-2207-0

  The Heaven & Earth Series

  Published in the United States of America

  Dedication

  To Jeffrey, for making my heart whole and being my other wing for flight.

  Acknowledgements

  I’d like to thank many people for the metamorphosis of this book. First, my editor, Dianne Rich. You took a new author completely and helped me find my way.

  The Wild Rose Press for taking a chance on me. Debbie Taylor for the beautiful cover art.

  Dr. David S. Owens, UW Cardiovascular Genetics director and surgeon, who specializes in hypertrophic cardiomyopathy. Thanks for giving me the 411 on OHC. Also, Jamie Rosencrans, for guiding me in the right direction.

  Suzanne Linda, at the University of Hawai’i, regarding solar energy and the pitfalls of where to place them on island. The Marine Mammal Center and N.O.A.A. for facts regarding the Hawaiian Monk Seal.

  The island of Kaua’i and its residents for providing the background information and lending a degree of authenticity this haole wouldn’t have otherwise had.

  A huge shout out to my beta readers. Beth Trigg, Annelise Christy and Sarah Gregory. Thanks for reading those first drafts and not laughing hysterically.

  Sophie Logan, at Sharper Editing, for helping me to understand the craziness of English grammar! Your talent and friendship mean a lot to me.

  Love to my family for supporting my dream. My parents and mother-in-law for always remaining positive. Jeff and Debbie for being the greatest friends and release outlets anyone could ask for. Nicole, Jesse, and Natalie for your support and love. Finally, my children, Paisley and Charlie, for being my beating heart and greatest source of joy.

  Prologue

  The dank of Tartarus was only eclipsed by its supreme blackness. Cronus heard the echoes of water dripping, as one by one his siblings were shackled and sent to their respective purgatories.

  Disoriented, the deity tried to call out but was hoarse, as well as temporarily blind, from the murky shadows. He closed his eyes, trusting his instincts rather than the gloom, perfumed with sulfur. Lowering his head, Cronus attempted to think through the events that transpired.

  Zeus’s crimson, arrogant face, and those of the rest of his children judging him, as he lay vanquished on the steps of Olympus. The destruction of his own kingdom, Othrys, incited an ire deep within him that inflamed the deep recesses of his being. The irony of the events was lost on the immortal, for he too had desired the power of the universe and stolen it from his father. Enraged by his own defeat, Cronus’s predecessor created a prophecy that his son’s children would too claim his throne, thus reversing the prosperity he’d enjoy. Cronus had dismissed the prediction as a cry of one already defeated.

  His stomach roiled and heaved with the emetic, with which Zeus tricked him, leaving the humiliation like black acid. One of Cronus’s sisters plummeted into the abyss with a bloodcurdling scream cut short. The god attempted to stop the seconds passing, but his powers were abating. Time moved and tried to gain purchase yet hovered just beyond his reach.

  With robes hanging off thin, fragile frames, three ancient looking hags moved through the spaces of light and shadow and passed by his cell. The unseen barrier of his incarceration, as if made of tungsten, held him at bay. Their voices seemed to crack and spark, fingers worrying over the tools of their trade.

  “Coeus, tell me of these women,” he commanded of his brother who stood nearby.

  “They’re the Moirai, daughters of Zeus and Themis.”

  “Themis!” The old god recoiled but couldn’t hold back his shock and anger. “Does our divine sister not sit with us then?”

  “No, brother—she’s part of the new order now.”

  “And why do her children appear in this form?”

  “They produce the fates.”

  “And what of their purpose?”

  “They ally with your son and even now lay out the fabric of time.”

  “Time!” he bellowed. “He dares try me? I alone am the master of time.”

  “It’s the fate of time, brother. What will be, who will live and die, who will serve what fate in life.”

  Cronus heard a noise and watched as his brother looked down at his feet, where inky black bonds slithered across the floor like silent serpents. They seemed to sear into his flesh, as they encircled his ankles and wrists. Coeus screamed out, faded, then disappea
red. Cronus’s gaze darted around the space; if there was an opportunity to be relieved of his own immediate fate, he needed to find it, and soon.

  Far above Cronus, Zeus basked in victory, arrogant in his success. Asserting his new authority, he called for his brother.

  “You must keep him separated,” Zeus counseled Hades. “Father’s cunning. If the opportunity of escape presents itself, he will seize it.”

  “The Titans are now secure, and only our father remains. Place the Cyclopes as guard, for they’ll want him here as we do,” the dark god replied. “He asks for companionship from some of the Primordials.”

  “Which ones?”

  “I fear his powers have weakened his mind, for he asks for those intent on damping his spirit.”

  “Misery? Discord?”

  “Among others.”

  “Perhaps he bears the weight of his behavior and chooses this form of self-punishment.”

  “Perhaps. Or evil deeds are on his mind.”

  “Allow him the companionship but keep him here, so any mischief he conjures is likewise contained.”

  Cryptically, Cronus smiled as he continued to listen to his sons speak. A plan formed in his mind, but he’d need help. Who among the gods would be willing to betray Zeus? The great manipulator of time slowed his mind and considered his revenge.

  ****

  The occupation of the Moirai, or Fates, was to control the threads of every life from birth to death. The day had been an arduous ordeal, and the sisters were nearing their nadir in patience, as Zeus was unwilling to heed their advice on important matters. In perfect synchronization, they lay their heads down and stilled their minds for slumber. Almost immediately, the fabric near their heads began to pop and bubble. A shroud of thin ebony threads snaked their way around each neck, carelessly knitting strands, like a spider’s web, into a perfect mask of the old hags’ faces. The mask glowed, vibrated, then sparked, turning to gold. Nearby, a bag of runes began to pulsate in time with the webbing and the Moirai’s collective heartbeat. It was the Spinner who rose first sat at her spindle and began to weave. The essence of Cronus’s allies, Misery, and Discord, among others, seeped into her skin like acid and she began to chant out a prophecy in an ancient language.

  The Allotter reached for her measuring rod and then turned and rose. White fire shot through mystical veins, threaded under aging brown spots on her leathered hands. She held up the woven strands, containing runes and whispers. The elements within each sister’s veil carefully influenced their actions.

  There was a pause, and all three of the hags tried to look through their shared, single, unseeing eye. Their movements guided without their control or the knowledge of why was just outside their grasp. As the dreams intensified, distracting them once more, so did the pulsing. It was as if each movement forged more energy, absorbing it from all the living things around them.

  The runes and lots chosen, woven, and measured, the last step belonged to the Cutter, for she was Inevitability. And she chose the time and manner of death for the damned. Reaching for her implement, she continued the incantations with her sisters. As the shears started to squeak close, the strands began to sever, with crackles and sparks, startling the silent blackness.

  ****

  Themis, goddess of counsel and prophecy, had no wrath, only divine judgment, with no interpretation or bias. So, when the orb beside her had begun to glow, she moved to it, through it, and above it to understand its purpose. A prophecy, not of her creation, was forming and it was a powerful one.

  She watched the light condense—smaller and smaller. When complete, it would be a miniature ball of energy and fire, without encasing. The properties began to take shape, and she saw Cronus’s plan to defeat the Gods unfolding.

  She vanished into the ether and reappeared at the bedside of her daughters, the Moirai. Themis heard the screams of lesser deities descending into Tartarus as several life strands sheared clean.

  “On this day and forevermore, the passage of this prophecy will not endure.

  Release the minds and tools of their trade, so that we may live another day. And to the master of this plan, who plots his revenge and takes his stand. His exile remains here in this dark kingdom until power is divided and each enters the Elysium. The architect of this betrayal must come to see, forgiveness in conclusion of same time and space is my proclivity. The modification of this prophecy I expatiate so that hope may preponderate.”

  The statuesque goddess kept murmuring specific enchantments until the full amended prophecy formed. She brought her hands close to her center and blasted them forward, creating a light so white and compelling that no other color existed. The Moirai blinked into awareness as the veils bubbled, then dissolved. Each looked around, first in confusion, then comprehension of the truth in its entirety. Silently, Themis left to inform Zeus of all that had passed.

  ****

  “Assemble the family,” Zeus ordered within seconds of Themis’s revelation. His pristine white hair floated around his handsome face, taut with rage. His blue eyes turned to ice, when none of his threats manipulated Themis into revealing the traitorous culprit he so desperately wanted to uncover. For surely Cronus could not have acted on his own.

  “We have but a few moments to flee, nephew,” Themis informed him. “You must wait for that knowledge, for I know your wrath, and must protect this innocent if we are to survive.”

  “Innocent.” Zeus spat, then called out to the collective. “We have precious little time. One among us has aligned with Cronus and betrayed us. The Moirai were deceived and have measured, woven, and sealed our fates.”

  The gods and deities spoke over each other, speculating about the Titan ruler’s accomplice and what it meant for their future.

  “Silence, you fools,” Zeus ordered. “The gods will descend to Tartarus for eternity if we do not flee.”

  Screams of outrage and palpable fear hovered thickly, as each immortal shot accusatory glances at one another.

  “Hold, for Themis speaks,” Themis commanded. “The prophecy has been made. For now, life as we’ve known it on Olympus is done but Cronus may not yet rule. We’ve time, if only for a short while.”

  “What is the prophecy?” Poseidon asked.

  “If the last drop of your blood dies in your heir, we’ll descend into darkness and the life Cronus will choose for us there.” Zeus’s gaze connected with Hades.

  “What must they do?” asked the dark god, apprehensively.

  “Conquer the fears and failings of you and them both, then the heirs must collect in the same time and place, so says the oracle.” He watched the confusion spread. “Each of you must find a place of refuge until you’re called to serve. Themis assures me that we’ll be able to transfer remaining power one to another, as we fall. My brothers”—he indicated Poseidon and Hades— “and myself, who rule heaven, earth, sea, and underworld, will be able to guide our spawn, but only for a short duration.”

  “And these creatures will somehow understand our plight?” Apollo queried.

  “The children of tomorrow must accept their role, as you must accept yours,” Themis replied. “Placing them at the same time and space will be arduous and take generations. We need a strong foundation. Who among you will accept that destiny?”

  “I shall go first,” announced Poseidon, god of the sea.

  “I confess it was my desire. Your power nearly matches my own and will do what is needed to begin,” Zeus responded, then gestured to the young musician who also stepped forward. “Apollo, you too will go.”

  “With guidance from Demeter,” Themis interjected, to the dismay of the mighty ruler.

  “What of this, Themis?” Zeus demanded.

  “Demeter’s the goddess of our seasons, our fertility. She brings life and light to dead soil and is relentless in her quest to search for understanding. She must guide the pair in what they seek, and we may give her a gift to help in that guidance.”

  “What gift?” Demeter asked suspicious
ly. She questioned the implied burden.

  Themis signaled to the giant but lame blacksmith god, who carried a small box of oak wrapped with metal straps and who at her signal opened it. Themis brought her hands to her abdomen, floating one above the other as if holding an imaginary orb. An oblong of energy emerged from within, and she laid the prophecy gently inside the box. She glided her hand over the seam, making it impenetrable, before handing it to Demeter.

  “One piece of yourself may go with your blood,” she informed the large group. “If they succeed you will dwell in the Elysium until the day we’re together once more. Now quickly, find your cover, conserve your power, and we may win the day.”

  Zeus watched in consternation, as one by one his family disappeared. He looked around his kingdom and the earth below. He’d always feared he would be thwarted by his offspring, but instead had underestimated his father’s ability to rise again. Black cords and bindings serpentined their way toward him, and the ruler smiled derisively at them. Collecting energy and anger from the air, he balled it into the center of his chest. Perhaps, he thought, the children wouldn’t be his destruction but his salvation. With a primal scream that covered the heavens, he fisted his hands and flung them outward, in an explosion of thunderbolts to carry him away, before the blackness devoured him.

  Chapter 1

  Raven sat on her plush white couch, knees drawn up to her chin, clad in periwinkle pajamas and fuzzy pink socks. She had turned the couch from the center of the living room so that it faced the large floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Puget Sound. When she reached for the box of tissues, she discovered it was empty, and her frown deepened. Looking over at the linen squares Donovan insisted should be there, Raven rolled her eyes. She remembered him saying only Philistines would lower themselves to use paper tissues. Rolling her eyes again, she stood up. Who even talks like that, she thought wearily. Deciding maybe wine and chocolate were needed more, she dabbed her watery nose on her sleeve and proceeded farther into the condo.

  The kitchen was unblemished, with its frigid white-walled tile and marble countertops. Reaching for the cupboard where she hid her stash of chocolate, Raven’s eyes danced across the photo of her goddaughter Abby, taped on the door of her stainless-steel refrigerator. She sniffed and smiled. Abby was caught in mid belly-laugh the summer before when she popped up from the slip ’n slide in her backyard. Donovan would never have allowed the photo to be placed there, let alone taped to such an unforgiving surface. Raven didn’t even remember putting it there after he left. She looked into the cupboard and discovered there was no more chocolate either.