Psst, take a look at this week’s Tuesday Teaser!
Here is a teaser from Cloaked Legends by S Bingham. You can check their website at http://sbinghambooks.com.
Take a look:
Jack’s heart raced. From the bottom of the stairs of the castle, he could see the tornado. Its base covered four hundred feet. The air smelled of fuel. This was the vision. The twister’s path was erratic. It moved along the train tracks along the river until, in a flash of lightning, it turned. He desperately wanted to run toward the storm, but the vision had him standing in this exact spot.
This was where the Creator wanted him. He’d wait for the twister to come to him and trust the Creator to protect those in the buildings in the eight blocks in between. He fought every fight-or-flight instinct as he watched the tornado rip entire buildings from their foundations, throw cars, and carry debris into its spin.
Two minutes before the tornado reached him, maybe less. What did the Creator want him to do? A cold downdraft would end the tornado, but it’d take too long. It would continue its destructive path straight through the castle. There were only two blocks between him and the cyclone. Then one.
In a split second, he decided. He had to turn it.
He didn’t know how this would end. He never did. With a tight grip on his staff, he gathered the wind and unleashed an enormous wave of energy, pressing against the approaching tornado. Jack was locked in a standstill. His wind and the wind of the tornado collided and sent debris straight upward, then back into the tornado. Jack’s jaw clenched and his muscles strained.
Sweat streamed down his face as he braced against the storm. He couldn’t hold it. It was going to take him. He sent a plea to the Creator as loud as his voice could carry.
“I’m here, help me.” His arms and legs shook. It felt like his back would break. Jack’s eyes were closed against the sting of the wind, as he focused every ounce of physical and mental strength. He counted the seconds to distract from the pain.
One. He had to do this. So many lives were at stake.
Two. Where was the Creator? He was doing what he’d asked.
Three. It’d be easier to let go.
Four. A shadow crossed his mind. “Just let go,” a voice whispered.
Five. “No!” The word ripped from him, from the depths of his soul, cutting his throat on its way out. He knew that voice, the one from his nightmare, and he would fight it as strongly as he fought this storm.
He could no longer count. He could barely think. The disks in his spine would snap, he could feel it. Suddenly, a warmth spread from his staff into his hand, up his arm, and into his chest. His body stopped shaking. He managed a half step forward, then another. The resistance faded, and he knew the worst was over.
The tornado ricocheted off of his own wind, smashing into the building next to the castle. Half the building crumbled, joining the swirling gray of the funnel. The Creator had done it. Together they had turned the storm. It traveled west toward the Mississippi, retracing the trail of its own destruction.
He ran behind it, every other step helped along by the wind. It was moving the direction he wanted. Now it was a matter of minimizing damage. The storm obstructed his view. He could only see swirling gray ahead of him. He needed to reach higher ground; he needed to get to the side of it.
He used his wind to jump to the nearest upright building and ran across the rooftops following the storm. If he could get it to the river he could hold it there, keeping everyone safe. As he watched the twister demolish half an apartment building, he jumped from one roof to another.
Jack took a great leap and landed in front of the half-destroyed apartment complex. As soon as his feet hit the ground, a fiery explosion erupted. He didn’t look for the source. He sent his wind against the tornado to keep it moving toward the water. Just before hitting the water, the storm turned. It moved along the bank of the river, tearing up more tracks as it went.
Jack roared his frustration as he attempted to overtake the rushing winds. He couldn’t get in front of it like he did at the castle. He’d have to pull it back.
With renewed strength from the Creator, he extended his arm and sent the wind around the tornado. He imagined it as a rope and felt it connect. His feet slid forward. He thrust his staff into the ground and it held. He pressed against the wind, this time pressing at a forty-five-degree angle.
Finally, the storm shifted and went into open water. The tornado, now a water spout, was losing steam. He could feel its resistance fade. He released his hold; the wind rushed back to him. Rain still fell in sheets and the clouds hung heavy in the air. He watched the waterspout dissipate, dropping all the debris it carried into the water.
Jack stumbled backward and fell to his back, letting the rain cover him. His brain still swirled like the storm. His chest heaved with each exhale as his body tried to reclaim oxygen.
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