The
Creator’s Eye: Mover of Fate, Part I
The Creator’s Eye
Book I
R.N. Feldman
Genre: Science Fiction/ Fantasy
Date of Publication: November 26, 2014
Number of pages: 270
Word Count: 58,401
Cover Artist: R.N. Feldman and Caroline Miller
Book Description:
On a hidden archipelago, people known as Movers manipulate matter with their minds while strange Folds in space transform the landscape into wondrous and often deadly anomalies.
When a young Mover named Michael Edwards discovers that he is descended from a long line of beings who can not only Move matter, but actually Create it, he finds himself at the center of a cosmic struggle for power.
Manipulated by friends, family, and an ominous prophecy, he allies himself with a host of strange creatures and characters as he fights to become Mover of his own destiny.
The Creator’s Eye
Book I
R.N. Feldman
Genre: Science Fiction/ Fantasy
Date of Publication: November 26, 2014
Number of pages: 270
Word Count: 58,401
Cover Artist: R.N. Feldman and Caroline Miller
Book Description:
On a hidden archipelago, people known as Movers manipulate matter with their minds while strange Folds in space transform the landscape into wondrous and often deadly anomalies.
When a young Mover named Michael Edwards discovers that he is descended from a long line of beings who can not only Move matter, but actually Create it, he finds himself at the center of a cosmic struggle for power.
Manipulated by friends, family, and an ominous prophecy, he allies himself with a host of strange creatures and characters as he fights to become Mover of his own destiny.
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Excerpt
Chapter 1
Michael looked to his side and saw a pair of branches lying on the ground. He grabbed one in each hand and ran into the stream. He jabbed the thinner, pointier stick like a spear at the first dog’s head. It let go of the man’s neck and snapped onto the end of the branch, holding it with its teeth and trying to tug it away. Michael whirled the other, heavier branch and smashed it down on the dog's skull with all his might. As the dog stepped back yelping in pain, the second one lunged for Michael. He sidestepped the attack, but slipped on a rock and fell into the water. With ferocious agility, the beast turned and was snarling over him, its white fangs and red gums bared against its broad black snout. Michael tried to scramble to his feet before those teeth could sink into his throat, but the rocks were slick with algae and he couldn’t lift himself up quick enough.
As the growling beast dove upon him, Michael saw a flash of green foliage and heard a fleshy whump as Sam slammed a branch across its nose.
The hound doubled back in surprise. James charged next, hurling a rock at its head, which missed by a fair distance. That gave the dog a moment to collect itself. It lunged at Sam, catching him by the ankle with enough force to wrench him off his feet. Sam screamed as he collapsed against the rocks.
Michael managed to get to his feet and realized that he was somehow still holding one of the branches. He swung it like a golf club, connecting with the dog's lower jaw.
The beast yelped as Michael brought the branch down for a second blow to its cranium.
The hound was thoroughly jarred and ran back to the far edge of the stream where it was joined by the first beast. They furrowed their snouts and stared irately at the young men. James threw another stone at them, which also missed. The first dog took a tentative step forward and growled as if to attack again. But then Jake hurled a stone, which glanced off its side, and then James threw yet another that connected firmly with the second dog’s face.
Michael beat his club against the rocks and stream, splashing luminous blue rivulets every which way. “Come on!” he challenged the dogs to attack, but they seemed to think better of it, turned, and padded back into the bushes. With a rustle of chaparral, they were gone.
Michael knelt beside Sam who was still lying in the spring, breathing heavily. “Are you okay?” Michael asked.
Sam stared up at the sky for what seemed like a long while. “I think so.” He sat up with a groan and examined his leg, which was bleeding through his sock. “I can’t move it,” he observed with curious calmness. “How’s the other guy?”
James was already turning the stranger over. “He’s not breathing! Give me a hand!” he called.
Jake splashed through the stream and helped him drag the limp man to the bank while Michael helped Sam hobble over. They laid the stranger out in the dust of the trail.
“Is he alive?” asked James.
Jake searched the man for signs of life. “I think his neck is broken.” He pulled back the man’s hood and gasped.
“What is it?” James asked. Then seeing what was wrong, dittoed the exclamation, “Woah! What’s wrong with his face?”
Michael turned to look and was shocked to see a pair of short, curved horns protruding from the top of the man’s completely bald head. One of them ended in a stump that was half jagged and half smooth as if it had been sawn part way then snapped off. The man’s features otherwise looked human, but Michael could tell even in the low light of dusk that his complexion was awry. He was a dull, grayish-green. Red rivulets flowed from his throat and ran in a dark trail through the gravel to the blue river fold.
“He must have stumbled into a fold,” guessed Jake.
“A fold that turns people’s skin green, makes them grow horns, and sends vicious black dogs after them?” asked James sarcastically.
“My dad has seen folds do a lot of strange things,” said Michael kneeling by the dead man. He picked up a limp green hand. The skin was already growing cold. “It’s not impossible, but that is a pretty unlikely combination of effects…and it definitely doesn’t explain the dogs.” He pointed at the man’s clothes. “Have you ever seen anyone wear something like these?”
“It looks like armor,” observed James.
The man was indeed wearing a leathery-looking chest plate with protective sleeves of thick, black leather. A red star was emblazoned on the front of the chest plate and on each shoulder. He also wore tall black boots that looked more appropriate for combat than jogging through a forest.
“What do we do with him?” asked Jake. “Should we go back to town and find help?”
“We can’t leave him here,” Michael asserted. “Those dogs will come back as soon as we’re gone.” He asked Sam how he was holding up. “Um, I’m okay, but my leg is bleeding pretty badly.”
“Do you know any healing techniques?” Michael asked him.
The hound doubled back in surprise. James charged next, hurling a rock at its head, which missed by a fair distance. That gave the dog a moment to collect itself. It lunged at Sam, catching him by the ankle with enough force to wrench him off his feet. Sam screamed as he collapsed against the rocks.
Michael managed to get to his feet and realized that he was somehow still holding one of the branches. He swung it like a golf club, connecting with the dog's lower jaw.
The beast yelped as Michael brought the branch down for a second blow to its cranium.
The hound was thoroughly jarred and ran back to the far edge of the stream where it was joined by the first beast. They furrowed their snouts and stared irately at the young men. James threw another stone at them, which also missed. The first dog took a tentative step forward and growled as if to attack again. But then Jake hurled a stone, which glanced off its side, and then James threw yet another that connected firmly with the second dog’s face.
Michael beat his club against the rocks and stream, splashing luminous blue rivulets every which way. “Come on!” he challenged the dogs to attack, but they seemed to think better of it, turned, and padded back into the bushes. With a rustle of chaparral, they were gone.
Michael knelt beside Sam who was still lying in the spring, breathing heavily. “Are you okay?” Michael asked.
Sam stared up at the sky for what seemed like a long while. “I think so.” He sat up with a groan and examined his leg, which was bleeding through his sock. “I can’t move it,” he observed with curious calmness. “How’s the other guy?”
James was already turning the stranger over. “He’s not breathing! Give me a hand!” he called.
Jake splashed through the stream and helped him drag the limp man to the bank while Michael helped Sam hobble over. They laid the stranger out in the dust of the trail.
“Is he alive?” asked James.
Jake searched the man for signs of life. “I think his neck is broken.” He pulled back the man’s hood and gasped.
“What is it?” James asked. Then seeing what was wrong, dittoed the exclamation, “Woah! What’s wrong with his face?”
Michael turned to look and was shocked to see a pair of short, curved horns protruding from the top of the man’s completely bald head. One of them ended in a stump that was half jagged and half smooth as if it had been sawn part way then snapped off. The man’s features otherwise looked human, but Michael could tell even in the low light of dusk that his complexion was awry. He was a dull, grayish-green. Red rivulets flowed from his throat and ran in a dark trail through the gravel to the blue river fold.
“He must have stumbled into a fold,” guessed Jake.
“A fold that turns people’s skin green, makes them grow horns, and sends vicious black dogs after them?” asked James sarcastically.
“My dad has seen folds do a lot of strange things,” said Michael kneeling by the dead man. He picked up a limp green hand. The skin was already growing cold. “It’s not impossible, but that is a pretty unlikely combination of effects…and it definitely doesn’t explain the dogs.” He pointed at the man’s clothes. “Have you ever seen anyone wear something like these?”
“It looks like armor,” observed James.
The man was indeed wearing a leathery-looking chest plate with protective sleeves of thick, black leather. A red star was emblazoned on the front of the chest plate and on each shoulder. He also wore tall black boots that looked more appropriate for combat than jogging through a forest.
“What do we do with him?” asked Jake. “Should we go back to town and find help?”
“We can’t leave him here,” Michael asserted. “Those dogs will come back as soon as we’re gone.” He asked Sam how he was holding up. “Um, I’m okay, but my leg is bleeding pretty badly.”
“Do you know any healing techniques?” Michael asked him.
“Yeah, but I’ve never used them on people before. They don’t let first years do that.”
“Ok, now is probably not the best time for you to try it out,” said Michael. “We need to wrap up your ankle then.”
“You can use my bandanna,” said James, proffering the sweaty piece of cloth.
They didn’t have anything significantly cleaner, so Michael took it and wound it tightly around Sam’s wound. His ankle was twisted like it could be broken as well.
Michael tightened the bandage and helped Sam onto his one good foot. His friend draped an arm around Michael’s shoulder to support himself.
“Can you guys carry the body?” asked Michael, bracing himself against Sam’s heftiness.
“Are you kidding?” Jake whined. “We barely made it up here just carrying ourselves!”
“Come on, Jake,” said James patronizingly, “It’s downhill almost all the way. We can’t leave him here to be eaten by dogs.”
“Yeah,” added Michael, “and my dad needs to see his face so he can find out where the fold is that did this.”
“Alright,” Jake grumbled, “but I get to carry his feet.”
“Ok, now is probably not the best time for you to try it out,” said Michael. “We need to wrap up your ankle then.”
“You can use my bandanna,” said James, proffering the sweaty piece of cloth.
They didn’t have anything significantly cleaner, so Michael took it and wound it tightly around Sam’s wound. His ankle was twisted like it could be broken as well.
Michael tightened the bandage and helped Sam onto his one good foot. His friend draped an arm around Michael’s shoulder to support himself.
“Can you guys carry the body?” asked Michael, bracing himself against Sam’s heftiness.
“Are you kidding?” Jake whined. “We barely made it up here just carrying ourselves!”
“Come on, Jake,” said James patronizingly, “It’s downhill almost all the way. We can’t leave him here to be eaten by dogs.”
“Yeah,” added Michael, “and my dad needs to see his face so he can find out where the fold is that did this.”
“Alright,” Jake grumbled, “but I get to carry his feet.”
Mover of Fate is the first novel in The Creator’s Eye series by author and artist R.N. Feldman. Feldman lives and works in Los Angeles, CA where he teaches at Otis College of Art and Design and spends as much time hiking through the local mountains as he can. Art, metaphysics, useless scientific trivia, and extensive backpacking treks throughout the world have all been major influences in his work.
Follow him on
Facebook at www.facebook.com/thecreatorseye.
You can also see
his latest paintings on www.RoniFeldmanFineArt.com.
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