BOOK FOUR OF THE GRAEME STONE SAGA:

Continuing where From the Ashes left off, Stone's band of heroes are hurled through the void to land on Earth, scattered throughout time, where they face dangers galore as they try to survive.

Gwenna, Alann, Marlyn, joined by a host of new characters.

More action, more danger, more thrills. Old enemies and strange new foes standing in their way.

Who will stand and who will fall? How will they cope in this new world? Will Stone fulfil his promise to find them, to bring them back and begin his great mission to save the Earth from the inevitable invasion of Those Beyond the Veil?

Find out in Stone Rising: Book Four of The Graeme Stone Saga!!

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From atop one of the buildings that overlooked the bay, a great flash of orange, followed by the smell of ash and brimstone, blown towards them on the coastal breeze. From the cloud of smoke coalesced a beast from the darkest of nightmares, a horned figure that embraced every archetype of hell. The being loomed tall and mighty, its form rippling with muscle and barely contained sorcerous power. It surveyed them from its vantage point with eyes that glowed the red of fresh blood.

It looked amused.

“Humans,” it called out, its voice amplified by supernatural means to fill the bay in a crescendo of rumbling bass. “The chase ends now.”

Arbistrath sneered, but he knew the beast to be right. This was it. This was where it ended. Faced with the horde before them, it was obvious that they had no hope. His cannon beeped morosely by his side, weary yet ready if called upon again. It would never give up on him. Neither would he, he decided. He would stay defiant till the end.

He smiled as he called out in reply.

“Come down here and say that!”

The beast guffawed, its mirth echoing through the heavens like the rumbling of distant thunder.

“Think not to goad me, child. I am above the taunting of a spoiled brat such as yourself. The young Lord Arbistrath; thinking yourself high and mighty because of chance of birth; thinking yourself the swaggering hero because you’ve been entrusted with a toy, the power of which you barely understand.” The beast fixed him with its red eyes and, despite himself, Arbistrath shivered in fear. The demon continued, smiling. “Make no mistake, mortal; these are your last moments. These are your last words. Choose them wisely, for the memory of them is all that shall soon remain.”

The young Lord of the Tuladors glanced left. Marlyn looked at him, his youthful face bereft, now, of ideas, yet still set, still determined to fight alongside his lord till the last. He looked right, Reno there, and the others, all gazing at him, visibly shaken, terrified by the foes that faced them, yet each determined not to give way to their fears, even now.

Even at the end.

The beast called out again.

“Well? Any last words for posterity?”

Lord Arbistrath smiled as he took a deep drag from his cigar, nodding as he exhaled.

“Aye,” he called out into the air, fixing the demon with his stare. “Bring it.”

A cheer from the dozen Tulador Guards at his back, the whining hum of capacitors filling the air as they readied their weapons for war. Clenching his cigar between his teeth, the young Lord hefted his cannon in both hands, pushing forwards the lever to engage full power. It vibrated with pent up energies, as if eager to release them on its foes, as though sharing in his bloodlust.

From atop the warehouse roof, the demon growled, narrowing its eyes.

“So be it,” it spat. “Consider it brought.”