http://davidestes100.blogspot.com
or through select online retailers including Smashwords.com.
Young-Adult Books by David Estes
The Dwellers Saga:
Book One—The Moon Dwellers
Book Two—The Star Dwellers
Book Three—The Sun Dwellers (coming in December 2012!)
The Evolution Trilogy:
Book One—Angel Evolution
Book Two—Demon Evolution
Book Three—Archangel Evolution
Children’s Books by David Estes
The Nikki Powergloves Adventures:
Nikki Powergloves- A Hero is Born
Nikki Powergloves and the Power Council
Nikki Powergloves and the Power Trappers
Nikki Powergloves and the Great Adventure
Nikki Powergloves vs. the Power Outlaws (Coming in 2013!)
Connect with David Estes Online
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/David-Estes/130852990343920
Author’s blog: http://davidestesbooks.blogspot.com
Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/davidestes100
Goodreads author page: http://www.goodreads.com/davidestesbooks
Twitter: https://twitter.com/#!/davidestesbooks
About the Author
After growing up in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, David Estes moved to Sydney, Australia, where he met his wife, Adele. Now they travel the world writing and reading and taking photographs.
A SNEAK PEEK
THE SUN DWELLERS
BOOK 3 OF THE DWELLERS SAGA
Available anywhere e-books are sold in December 2012!
Prologue
Subchapter 14 of the Moon Realm
Two years ago
Despite her nondescript gray tunic, the woman sticks out like a sparkling diamond in a coal mine, her shiny blond hair peeking out from beneath her dark hood. But it’s not her hair, or her face—which is remarkably beautiful beneath the dark shadows—that identifies her as a foreigner in the Moon Realm. Instead, it’s her gait, the way she carries herself: straight-backed and graceful and regal. Next to her the passing moon dwellers look hunched, their backs question marks and their faces turned to the dust.
She’s knows it’s the middle of the day—thus ensuring the girl will be at school—but the amount of light afforded by the overhead cavern lights is appallingly minimal, the near-equivalent of a Sun Realm dawn, or perhaps twilight.
Although she clearly doesn’t belong amongst the rundown and crumbling gray stone shacks, she doesn’t hesitate as she strides down the street, ignoring the stares she attracts. Unable to hold back her nerves any longer, she pauses—just a barely noticeable stutter step—as she nears her target: a tiny stone box, no bigger than a medium-sized shed. She wonders how the two most powerful Resistance leaders could possibly be tucked in such an unremarkable corner of the Moon Realm. The front yard is barren rock, full of crisscrossing cracks and stone chips that roll and slide underfoot as she approaches the thin doorframe.
Before knocking, her eyes are drawn to her feet, where she stands on the only unmarred stone square. Within the block is a single word—friend—elegantly cut with the skill of a professional stone worker. A hint of a smile crosses the woman’s face before she looks up. Despite all her doubts and fears and indecisiveness while making the decision that’s led her to this place, that one word chiseled at the entrance gives her hope that there’s a better life out there for her eldest son—that maybe things can improve for him and for the Tri-Realms as a whole.
Her life is forfeit—stomped out by a loveless sham of a marriage, to the President no less—but her son’s…well, her son’s could change everything.
After a single deep breath, she gathers her courage in a raised fist. When her knuckles collide with the door, the sound is final and hollow in her ears, but in reality is only a thud. Tilting an ear, she listens for footsteps, but is rewarded with only cluttered silence. The clutter: her mind, tripping and stumbling over a thousand questions. Is anyone home? Will the door be slammed in my face? Have I made a grievous mistake? Have I failed him? Have I failed my son? Have I failed myself?
Unexpectedly and without fanfare, the door swings open; a dark-haired woman wearing a plain brown, knee-length tunic fills the gap, her eyebrows raised in surprise. If not for her information, which she received from a very reliable source, she wouldn’t believe this woman to be a revolutionary. Except for her eyes, that is. There’s a fire in her pupils that she’s only seen once or twice in her life. It’s the same fire she sees in her eldest son.
When the woman with the jet black hair doesn’t speak, the intruder realizes her eyebrows are an unspoken question: Yes? Why have you wandered onto my doorstep?
Before answering the silent question, she pulls back her hood, releasing her golden locks and forcing away the identity-protecting shadows on her face. A spark of recognition flashes on the woman’s face, but fades just as quickly. Finally she speaks. “First Lady Nailin—why are you here?”
“Mrs. Rose—I have a proposition for you. May I come in?”
Chapter One
Adele
The light gleams off the barrel of the gun with a brightness that blinds me if I look directly at it. My hands are sweaty as I clutch the weapon that once upon a time was so foreign, but now seems so familiar. The gun’s every detail is burned into my memory, from the temperature of the cold steel against my palm, to its weight tugging on my wrist, to the strong yet delicate scent of burning gunpowder.
When I turn the corner and enter the room, it’s all happening again. My dad is bound and lying prostrate on the rough stone floor, the executioner’s gun to his head. A half dozen other sun dwellers bar my way forward. There’s more than the last time, but it doesn’t matter. A million of them couldn’t stop me. Not this time.
I raise the gun and start shooting. Six booms later my foes are all dead, red and warm and blank-eyed. In the heat of the moment, I continue shooting, this time at the executioner, but the click click click announces that I’m out of bullets.
Tossing the gun aside I charge forward and kick his bland face with my heel. He slumps to the side, his own weapon discarded by his weakened fingers. I’ve done it this time. Saved him—saved my father. But I know something’s not right as I realize my sister isn’t by his side like she should be.
As I lean over the face of the man who I immediately know is not my father, the Devil’s eyes flash open, the gateway to a black and soulless human shell.
“Didn’t you know?” the President says. “Your father’s already dead. And you’re next.”
My heart is in my throat as the demon lifts his hand, which is now holding a long glinting sword with a diamond-encrusted hilt, which I either didn’t notice before or which has magically appeared.
As his white-knuckled hand darts forward, I scream. Although I don’t close my eyes, blackness surrounds.
* * *
I’m still screaming and seeing darkness when a pair of strong arms cradles my head. “Shh,” a voice says.
I quiet but I’m still breathing hard, panting like I’ve just run a long way, my chest heaving. An instant later there’s a soft glow as a lantern is lit, casting dancing shadows on the rough, brown tunnel walls. Tristan’s arm is still behind my head, and when he sees me looking at him, he retracts it quickly, his face flush with embarrassment. “You were dreaming,” he says. “I heard you cry out.”