Cover release and snippet for Rebellion: The Rise of Magic, Book 3

Fellow Arcadians,

It’s Easter Weekend, and the beginning of my kids’ Spring Break as I type this.

I love being a dad!

So without further ado, here’s the cover release for Rebellion: The Rise of Magic, Book 3: After playing in the warm Pennsylvania sunshine, we made up some popcorn and piled onto the couch for a movie night.

Many times when we do this, the decision is very difficult.

Not tonight.

“Rogue One, Rogue One,” the spawn chanted as I fired up the computer and connected it to the TV. My daughter (a fierce Star Wars junkie) and I saw it in the theater, but we were both psyched to watch it again. The first time I saw it, believe it or not, was before we had even conceived of Hannah, Ezekiel, Sal, and all of Irth.

As I watched, I fell in love with Jyn Erso all over again. Only this time, I realized that she and Hannah had so much in common… (Don’t worry, there are NO hints of the fate of our hero in Rogue One! I wouldn’t dare.)

Although there is plenty of debate about the most recent releases in the Star Wars Universe, I love the focus on strong, funny, bad ass female leads. They would fit right into the Kurtherian Gambit Universe!

Jyn and Rey won my heart.

But they’ve got nothing on Hannah.

And to get a taste of the rebellion, below is your first snippet!

Cheers,

CM

REBELLION: RISE OF MAGIC, BOOK 3 (UNEDITED)

PROLOGUE:

“This is the chaos of Unlawful magic!” Jedidiah the Prophet screamed as he pointed to the burnt down house. He stood on a hastily constructed platform in front of the rubble that had once been Hannah’s home. It was his favorite prop. “Let his spot forever remind you what happens when the people of Irth ignore the restriction—when they ignore the command of the gods!”

The sermon wasn’t a new one. The Prophet had been reciting it almost word for word for weeks now. Jedidiah read aloud the names of the Hunters who were killed trying to apprehend Hannah. After finding her brother dead, she nearly took out an entire city block blasting their bodies to hell with the magic she had not yet mastered. The Prophet loved the fact that she had shredded them; it made his testimony that much more powerful.

“Law without magic is impotent. However, magic without law is bloody deadly. Our world has learned the lesson time and time again. It is why the Matriarch and the Patriarch put people like the Chancellor in the world to be the gatekeepers. Someone with a mastery of the craft, but also with self-control. Our submission to his will is itself an act of adoration of our Good Parents.”

Jedidiah’s voice grew hoarse from shouting. The crowds had only grown in recent days. Since the death of his Disciples in the noble district, he only expected them to get bigger.

“Preach it!” a voice yelled from just a few rows back.

His Disciples, filling those first ten to twenty rows were completely committed to both message and mission. They would do anything for the Prophet, and nearly a dozen of them had proven that recently by dying while searching for Unlawfuls. Jed would have preferred it if they had been successful, but he was glad for their loyalty nonetheless.

For the first year of his ministry, Jed’s Disciples were wayward folks, looking for meaning anyplace they could find it. Most were outcasts then, gathering peacefully on the Capitol lawn. But now, they were all armed with clubs, and pitchforks, and whatever else could do some damage. They were his little army, and they made Jed feel like a god himself.

Behind them were the curious, and still further back, the onlookers. Since the girl named Hannah had nearly blown up the Queen’s Boulevard, the heckling had stopped. Jed’s Disciples had made their influence known, and one was better off tangling with a Guard at the Arcadian gate than to piss off a zealot with a ­­­­­­­homemade spear.

“The Mother and Father have spoken through the Chancellor, and he remains the regulator. But friends, Adrien and his people cannot do all of the good work, which is why we gather in devotion to the calling of the Parents. You have all done so well in pointing out and taking down the Unlawfuls among you. It is hard work. It is dangerous work. But there could be no more a Holy…”

Movement near the back of the horde drew Jedidiah’s attention, and he lost his train of thought. There was a slight rumbling, and everyone looked around to see what was going on.

Jedidiah continued, trying to regain his composure. “No greater calling, that is. We have been put here to cleanse all of Irth from…”

The crowd shifted again, and he could see people break away and move away from his assembly.

What the bloody hell? he thought, squinting to see what the commotion was. Then, some of his faithful near the front started to leave, too.

“Where the hell do you all think you’re going?” he shouted over the crowd.

One of the Disciples turned to him. “Sir, they’re… they’re going to listen to, well, a preacher.”

A preacher? Jedidiah asked himself. On MY turf? No fucking way! Jedidiah stepped off the platform and rushed behind the crowd. His face burned, and his pride was battered. Whoever was stealing his flock would pay, and pay dearly.

As he approached, he heard the voice, young but strong, that drew away his flock. Pushing through the crowd, Jedidiah finally laid his eyes on the preacher. He wasn’t much more than a kid, and he was shouting from the roof of a rundown bar. Jed thought he recognized him, but he wasn’t sure.

“The Prophet might call you Disciples, but I call you neighbors,” the young man shouted. “The Prophet has come from beyond the walls of our city, but I was born and raised on this very street. He has drawn you in with fear, but instead, I will give you only the truth.”

A few boos picked up from the crowd, but the majority shouted them down. “Let the kid speak,” a woman in the front yelled.

“The Prophet is a damned liar. He is poisoning your hearts and minds by preaching the Chancellor’s propaganda. But here is the dirty little secret that everyone has wondered once or twice—” his eyes narrow on Jedidiah “—at least, if you’ve been here for more than a year. Why should magic only be given to the few, when there is so great a need for it? Why should magic be walled in behind the Academy when the Boulevard needs it, too? What if the Prophet is wrong, and magic is not a danger, but a blessing? A blessing meant for all.”

“Go back to hustling, Parker,” another voice yelled. The crowd laughed, and Parker grinned along with them.

“Ah, a prophet from his own city doesn’t stand a chance now, does he? But, I tell you this is the truth, and this truth will set us free.”

“You don’t know shit, Parker,” a gruff voice shouted.

Parker, Jed thought. He’s that punk who was always hanging around with the witch. What’s he doing here?

Parker grinned again and pushed his hands into the pockets of his cloak. “I don’t know shit? I’ve been living in it for years. We all have.” He paused, and some of the crowd began to nod along. “And I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of the shit I do know.”

That drew a few cheers, and it was clear the crowd was warming to the boy’s speech. There was an electricity moving through the street, and it scared the hell out of Jedidiah.

“And what do you know about magic and the will of the gods? You’re just some dumbass kid—and an Unlawful sympathizer,” Jedidiah finally shouted, desperately trying to turn the situation around. “You’ll bring down the wrath of the gods upon us!”

The crowd roared, and Parker lifted his hands to silence them. “Magic is dangerous. The Unlawfuls can’t be trusted. The gods will punish us. We’ve heard these things a million times. The Prophet spews them daily from his stage. But do any of you have proof? Have you been hurt by an Unlawful? Have you seen Academy magicians use their magic irresponsibly? I have. I have seen the cruelty of Hunters and the apathy of nobles. Do you really believe the gods have placed power in their hands while keeping it from hard working people like you? No. But here’s the real question, that every Arcadian should be asking…”

He paused, letting the tension build. “Has Adrien’s restriction made your lives better?”

The mob was silent, but their silence answered his questions loud enough.

“Let me tell you what I have seen,” Parker continued. “I have seen an Unlawful heal the wounded. I have seen an Unlawful fight back against evil. I have seen an Unlawful who was blessed by the gods. You all know who I’m talking about. You’ve known her all your life—and yet you listen,” Parker stabbed a finger behind those watching him, “to this bastard lie about her day after day.”

Jedidiah felt the stares as everyone turned to look at him. For once in his life, he hated the attention.

“But I’m telling you the truth,” Parker’s voice rose, working toward his conclusion. “The gods have sent us a hero. And she’s not some hypocritical drunk, preaching for her own glory. No, she’s out there fighting for all of you. Fighting against the Chancellor and his wicked puppets. Fighting against the cruelty of the Prophet’s Disciples. Fighting for a free use of magic for everyone. The question is, will you join her when the time is ready? Will you fight for your city?”

People murmur, they shuffle around.

“Of course, you won’t fight. Because you don’t know the truth. You’ve swallowed the Chancellor’s lies. For most of my life, I believed exactly as you do now, and why shouldn’t I? From the cradle, it was the milk I drank—the stories that would put me to sleep at night. But they were lies told with a single purpose: to keep you weak so that others could be strong.”

The people in the crowd looked at one another, and for a moment, Parker wasn’t sure if they wanted to listen or murder him. They remained quiet, indicating the former.

“And they are using that strength for their own personal gain. As we speak, the Chancellor and the Governor are using the men of the Boulevard as slaves. Not to keep us safe or enhance the city, but instead, they are building mighty weapons. Tools of war to secure their power and extend it beyond the gates.”

“Horseshit,” a woman’s voice shouted from the crowd.

“Oh, really? Then where are the men? Why are the bars, and the streets, and the market so damned empty? Hell, even the Pit has closed down. They are given jobs and taken prisoner. You all keep your mouths shut because the damned blood money is too good to be true.”

Another voice called out, this one truly inquisitive, from the middle of the horde, “How do you know this, Parker?”

Parker’s smile faded for the first time as he reached up and began unlacing his cloak. With a flourish, he dropped his cloak to the ground, exposing his chest and back. His flesh was badly scarred from burns and cuts and other torture he withstood on the bottom levels of the factory. Holding up his arms he showed the blisters from the magitech shackles that were still trying to heal.

“I know because I was there. I know because these marks were handed down from on high. I know because I saw my friends and neighbors—your family—kept in the same conditions. And if I didn’t escape, I’d either still be building Adrien’s machine… or dead.”

A wave of shame and sadness swept over the crowd as they pictured their fathers, husbands, and sons with bodies that were beaten like Parker’s. Jedidiah saw their reactions and knew he was screwed—unless he did something. He muscled his way to the front of the crowd.

His eyes narrowed. “You are damned, Unlawful. You will be punished for your sins!”

Parker only laughed in response. “The deepest ring of hell is reserved for the one who not only lies, but also leaves the innocent devoured in his wake.” He raised his eyes back to the crowd. “This puppet here has lied to you, spreading Adrien’s poison, for years. You’re trapped in their snare, but you have the power to release yourselves. Be captive no longer. We have the power. The Founder has returned. Hannah lives, and scoundrel liars like Jed here will feel their wrath before the seasons turn.”

All eyes were on him. The crowd was silent. Even Jedidiah himself stood with his mouth slightly open.

Parker raised his hands over the crowd. “War is at hand. Prepare yourselves. The Rebellion is now!”

The Prophet and his closest knew that the kid had to be stopped. The Disciples rushed the bar, climbing up boxes to try and make it on the roof, with weapons at the ready. “Seize the Unlawful,” Jedidiah screamed over the cheering crowd.

As the Disciples neared the roof, the crowd stopped, frozen in time, ready for the confrontation that they knew had been brewing.

Parker laughed. “You cannot touch me, swine. The Founder is with me, and HE is strong.”

He raised a fist, and a mighty crash filled the air. With a flash of blinding light. Smoke covered Parker.

When it cleared, the young man was gone.

CHAPTER 1

Sitting on a barrel behind the crowd, Hannah chewed a blade of grass and listened in. A large, green hood covered her strawberry blond curls, and with her noble outfit on, she felt pretty safe from detection as the girl who had nearly blown up the Boulevard—but still, it wasn’t worth taking chances bigger than they already were.

It had been over a month since she and Ezekiel had started the ruse—infiltrating the Academy as student and teacher—but it seemed that in due time, their gambit would pay off in spades—especially now that they had Parker back.

Watching her best friend work the crowd from his spot on the roof reminded her of their good old days of running cons in the middle of the market square for a pocketful of coins. The risk felt so great back then. And now, here they were, running a con—a long con. The risks were much greater than the old days, but so were the rewards. They were hustling for their city’s very survival.

As Parker preached about the Founder, Hannah couldn’t help but smile. She’d been working with Ezekiel for months, and it was hard for her to think of her mentor as some sort of mythic figure. The Founder was real, and she knew that—even if she was still working out her perspective of the Bitch and the Bastard. Religion was hard, especially for those growing up poor as dirt under the rule of a drunken, shithead father.

Ezekiel told her that the Matriarch and Patriarch hadn’t abandoned them, that they were off protecting their world in a fight too big for Hannah to comprehend. But that’s not much comfort when you grew up poor, scared, and alone like she had.

But those days were long behind her. Now, she was a magician and a warrior, fighting a just cause—the death of Adrien.

Parker was good in front of people; he always had been. That was a skill Hannah had never known. But she was the one who had healed him after being nearly beaten to death in the factory. She was proud of him for his skills and pleased with her own. Even with his new scars, she knew she had brought him back from the brink of death.

Hannah shook away the memories when she saw the Prophet and his goon squad rush the bar. She held steady, waiting for the sign. Parker said she would know it when she saw it.

“You cannot touch me, swine. The Founder is with me, and he is strong,” Parker yelled as he threw a fist in the air.

That’s it, she thought.

Hannah spread her arms outward and contorted her hands in a complicated pattern. Her eyes blazed red from underneath her hood. As the smoke and thunder roared, she focused on Parker and with a flash, she was next to him. The smoke, a product of one of Parker’s tricks, covered the stage and hid them from the sight of the crowd. Parker smiled when he saw her.

She smiled back, then moved into action. She grabbed his hand, and their fingers interlaced. With a whoosh, they disappeared into thin air.

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