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27. Alternative COMPETITION! Win a copy of ~ The Apocalypse of Silence


For a chance to WIN a copy of The Apocalypse of Silence by William P.Haynes, join the above ‘An Alternative View’ yahoo group. Post a message with The Apocalypse of Silence in the header and answer this one easy question:

QUESTION: WHO IS MICHAEL ORCUS?


To get you in the mood, below are a couple of snippets from two of William’s books.

“No!” Ariel screams, his voice echoing throughout the
room.
Ariel watches from the library window as the great
wings of Russus and Abnoba carry Satan, James and
Denise away. The kauris fly at a safe distance behind
their master. The skies of Dudael blacken as a
temporary threshold opens in the heavens and the
indigo sky of Chyialus Mountain emerges before the two
riders. Ariel falls to his knees as the sky rumbles.
“I have failed Father, the great destroyer is free,”
Ariel says as he grieves. Quietly Sara walks into the
library to stand close to the angel.
“Then we have both been unsuccessful,” Sara says
quietly. “Why did you protect me from the fires
earlier?”
“It was at the bidding of your master,” he tells her.
Sara throws back her head and laughs exposing the
fangs still stained with the blood of the trinity. The
unholy sound chills the angel’s soul.
“While in Satan’s keep I called him master but not
even Turel can rightly claim me. I am given to another
but of my own accord.” Ariel draws Igneus as he
springs and moves rapidly toward her. “You will not
slay me angel, had you wanted to you would have done
it earlier.”
“Who then is your given master?” Ariel asks but Sara
has already vanished from his sight.

Taken from The Apocalypse of Silence.

Here is an extra excerpt from THE SHAMAN AND THE ROSE, the 3rd and
possibly final book in the Mesphisto Seed series, which William P. Haynes is currently working on.

It moves like a presence toward James Richards. The shadowy form of
the devil stands blocking James’ passageway. He stares at the demon,
at Mesphisto, with a look of confusion on his young face. The devil
laughs and the tenor dampens his soul.
“You look surprised to see me, Mark?” the devil whispers coldly.
“Forgive me if I don’t know precisely who to call you? Being one-third
of a trinity must be a bit confusing for you.” James holds the staff
of Renoir in his hands. It was carved from a bough gained from the
tree of life. The staff glows a rare jewel white in his grip. He
extends the gnarled staff forward and into the ghostly form of the
devil. Mesphisto howls in pain, his cry acknowledged by Cerberus at
the gateways. A scarlet fog spills over Desolation Mountain and the
devil’s specter is gone from James’ sight.

Michael Orcus follows the wolf through the breach in the castle wall.
Beyond this opening rests a wooden desk. It is composed from the
silvery-blue trunk of a Valmorth tree. A single candle burns inside an
ebony holder on this counter as he moves nearer. Reaching forward he
pulls a chair away from the table and sits down. The outline of a tome
arises in the middle of its surface. He touches the shape and it
shimmers and flames. Michael Orcus screams as his hand blisters and
burns. Jumping up quickly, the seat falls over with a loud crash and
the wolf howls three times. When he turns back around, he observes
that only a pile of ash remains on the table. He sits and stares at
the candle. The ashes commence to flicker and reform themselves into a
parchment fashioned of human flesh. The volume that materializes
before Michael is older than many of the gods themselves.
“Do you grasp what this is?” he questions the wolf. “It’s the tome of
Dasairus declared to have been written by Satan before his fall. Once
prior to even the origin of angels or man Satan enjoyed the company of
the Father in heaven. For eons the essence of heaven was shared
between both. Then the Father created the angels and all things
immediately changed. Satan unveiled philosophies and knowledge to some
angels that the Father desired never to be known. Satan was admonished
and banned from the Father’s sight forever. The angels who refused to
recant the teachings of Satan were banished also.”
He opens the volume and reads the long forgotten text. The candle
burns furiously as time itself dissolves. Michael Orcus finishes the
tome of Dasairus and the volume returns to ash. A cold wind fills the
entrance and the physical remains of Satan’s writings are swept away
to be lost forever. He looks at the creature by his side as the wolf
howls.
“Will you assume your place now upon the throne?” The wolf asks as
it turns toward the doorway. Michael Orcus throws back his head and
laughs a cruel laugh and then he works an incantation from Satan’s tome.

“Teiti cur deanusi bashra nome`a.” As he relates the words, the
ghostly form of Mesphisto upon the throne departs further from life.
He looks out over the wastelands he has ruled for all of eternity.
Unfurling a parchment, the devil stares down upon his hands. These are
human hands he views and leaping down from the throne, he stares into
the all-seeing reflection of the pool of water. The face of Michael
Orcus stares back at him.
In the stately castle an aperture has sealed up and the pieces of a
mirror have transformed. Inside this frame, the devil Mesphisto pounds
on the recessed glass. Within a depth long erased from space and time,
an image stirs. Satan rises in a pocket of dusk, covered with nary a
shining star or sun. He steps closer to another mirror that is the
exact match to the one in the tower of the Inferno. “Semjaza my humble
old friend, soon it will be time,” Satan whispers before turning and
walking away.

Reviews, ordering information plus some cool links can be found at William P. Haynes’ web home- THE HORROR TRADER
http://www.arminus9-writers.com

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