ABOUT THE OMEGA ORACLE

THE OMEGA ORACLE is a powerful, lightning-paced thriller that takes the reader on a journey through ghost castles in England, the jungles of the Yucatan, and the deserts of Egypt. A gifted child, a compassionate doctor, a resourceful university student, and a Magi of infinite wisdom, with the help of others, must work as a dedicated team to discover forgotten maps and decode ancient symbols to prevent the unthinkable - the earth falling into destruction and darkness. Can their courage, tenacity, ingenuity, and unfailing spirits overcome the sinister, deadly forces pitted against them? In the final hours, with death coming from above and below the earth, Dr. Faith Roper and her child Sasha stand in the Four Corners of America, the last chance for humanity.

EXCERPT:

CHAPTER   1

America in the 1500s, where the Four Corners meet

The sharp arrow from the Spanish soldier’s bow struck the great eagle as it turned in flight across an expanse of richly hued mountain rock and high cliffs. The plunging, twirling seer of the skies landed on a mound of hard dirt, dead, its life taken in honor of blood.

Ω

The Hopi chief stood over his companion, reached down and plucked a perfect feather from its lifeless body. He then buried the great bird on a high hill that overlooked a valley of crimson and yellow. He stayed at the site through the glowing night, departing in the morning for the Cave of Eagles, where the sacred feather, a symbol for truth among the Elders, would be placed in a stone of quartz crystal, a place of honor, a centering place for the Hopi nation and the world, not to be touched until time and the stars were no more….

Orabi, Third Mesa, Arizona 1700s

The Mission’s activities were failing. Father Velasquez, a Franciscan priest, a gaunt, five-foot nine-inch figure of a man with a Roman air about him, blamed it on the power of the eagle’s feather. The mythology surrounding the feather was ever-present among the Hopi and other tribes. While they tolerated the teachings of the white man, they clung to their belief in the power of nature and the age-old prophecies of their people, especially:

Those that disturb the natural world with thoughtless violence disturb the future.

            The priest was aware of these beliefs, recalling the struggles in the old world. This was no different, he thought. It was the pagan rituals all over again. He had received a courier message from his Order in Spain to take whatever steps necessary to advance the cause of the Christian religion:

            Heathens must convert. This is the will of the Lord.

            He decided to enter the Cave of Eagles, located at the Four Corners, near the San Juan River. He would steal the feather and take it to the land below the Gulf waters, for he was afraid to destroy it. The power of the feather frightened him. It was the devil’s feather.

Ω

The oppressive heat bothered Father Velasquez. He drank constantly from his bag of water. By the time he reached the mouth of the cave, he was exhausted. No cooling wind blew. Only the naked sun beat upon the earth. He was relieved when he entered the shadows of the Cave of Eagles. He fell to the ground, breathing, panting and looking around. The priest rose to his knees and in a feverish voice began to pray aloud:

            “Heavenly Father, protect me in my service to you. Let no harm come to this humble servant, alone in this faraway land. Shower your blessings upon my spirit, so I may walk in the arms of the Lord.”

            Father Velasquez stood up and walked to the rear of the Cave. He could see a glow, a light. He walked closer. There it was – delicately placed in a stone of quartz crystal. A perfect feather. He hesitated, feeling its power. His hands started to shake. He felt warm. He began to sweat. He reached but pulled back. He stared at the eagle’s feather, afraid, trembling. Suddenly, he heard a sound. Was this a sign? He reached for the feather. Then, without thought, he snatched it from the quartz crystal stone, placing it in a leather pouch.

            The sky suddenly darkened, and distant thunder rolled across the landscape of the Four Corners.

            The ground shook, and fissures appeared along the mountains.

            The priest ran out of the Cave, making his way down the mountainside, stumbling, panting and running before he reached flat ground.

            His heart raced with fear. His palms were wet with sweat. Even though he believed in the protection of the Lord, he believed more in the absolute power of the dark forces. They claimed his imagination.

            Father Velasquez rode his Indian horse against a driving wind. He prayed to himself, blinded by the unexpected bugs and swirling dust that assaulted his face. He was lost, but the horse knew the way back to the Mission. He realized he had violated a sacred law. He knew he had no choice but to flee – tomorrow.

            These were desperate times for the Franciscan priest. He hoped his bold act would elevate his lowly status. He hoped his superior and the Order would now appreciate him. He hoped he would no longer be assigned to an outpost where strange rituals and blank stares greeted him.

Ω

In a turbulent sea, Father Velasquez huddled in a shadowed corner of a small cabin of a Spanish galleon, still afraid, shaking as he remembered what he had done. He had left the Orabi Mission the next day, before the sun rose, fearing the tribal leaders would discover the missing feather.

            The Ceremony of the Years was scheduled in three days, at the first full moon. The ceremony marked the anniversary of the placement of the feather.  The priest had interpreted the changing of the weather as a sign of a new beginning.

            The Lord was cleansing the earth, preparing the Indians and others for the true teachings.

The galleon smashed against the rising waves as it pointed towards the Yucatan. Father Velasquez didn’t leave his cabin until he reached its destination, a nondescript Spanish port on the north side of the Yucatan peninsula. Fear surrounded the priest as he clutched the leather pouch that contained the feather.

            He was told when he left for the New World to find and steal all manuscripts, scrolls and tablets. The Order wanted knowledge of all pagan beliefs and rituals. If he couldn’t return with them to Spain, then hide them. Hopefully, someone from the Order would find and translate them, destroying them if necessary.

            He was also told by another priest of the constant demand for New World objects. For some reason, it was believed that they possessed primitive powers to produce both fear and money. Stories circulated about their magical powers. Many religious Orders made use of these superstitions, casting spells over the ignorant.

            Father Velasquez believed in these powers. He had seen them at work in the American Indian pueblos and reservations. These powers seemed almost miraculous. When he introduced Christian objects of worship, like crosses and statues, the Chiefs and Medicine Men looked puzzled. The objects had no link to the natural world.

            “The Great Spirit’s wind is not within this object,” they would say.

            Father Velasquez did not understand.

Ω

The Madrid Sun was scheduled to depart the Yucatan for Spain in two days. Father Velasquez was bringing the feather to his superiors.

            A dangerous gift, he thought, from the New World. Hopefully, the Order will be interested in its legendary power.

            Rumblings of conflict were everywhere in Spain, and the Franciscan order wasn’t beneath using the power of objects to promote its own well-being. However, it wasn’t meant to be.

            A day before the Madrid Sun sailed, Father Velasquez was murdered and the feather stolen.

            It disappeared into the vastness of the Yucatan.

CHAPTER   2

Present Day

Hopi Indian Pueblo in the Four Corners of America

“Honor your father, hummingbird.”

            “I will make him proud, Spirit Father. The Hopi exhibit in England will present his wisdom to the world.”

            “Yes, a wisdom many have forgotten.”

            “Stepfather—”

            “Speak not about the world’s fate. Stay in the present. Your journey begins today.”

Ω

Faith kissed her husband, passionately. “My love, you and Seth must be careful. Many have disappeared, lost their way, been swallowed by the Yucatan, by its jungles and its legends. You have been called to land of the Mayans. My dreams confirm this. And I have been called to England. In spirit, I am always with you. Call me in London, at any hour.”

            “Find the map, Faith.” He stared into her compassionate eyes. He felt her heartbeat. “Look everywhere. Follow every lead. That map can be our compass to the Q scroll and the eagle’s feather, and who knows where else it can lead us?”

            She nodded, looking inward. Faith touched where their unborn child rested in warmth and silence. “David, your journey is for us … and for Soaring Eagle, my Spirit Father, the Hopis … and for Mother Earth … and its survival.”