the line that separates right from wrong - The Dragon's Harvest (The Dragon Trilogy #2) by Jason F. Boggs

"I felt like this novel perfectly blends science fiction with fantasy. I highly recommend “The Dragon’s Harvest” by Jason F. Boggs as an epic sci-fi adventure and I look forward to reading the other books in this trilogy. "- Reader View

Description:

Join Nelson Jones on a journey of horrifying discovery as an expedition to uncover the mystery of the sun gates leads to a terrible secret. This time, the Humans and the Aesini are fighting for their very lives as Nelson's nemesis, Ira Bilis, finds a terrifying ally in her quest to restore the New Era to its former glory. Nelson and his friends must now race against the clock to defeat this new threat - a power beyond imagination! Author Jason F Boggs continues the journey into a fascinating universe full of complex characters where what it means to be human and the line that separates right from wrong is explored on an epic scale. 

EXCERPT

In the haze of twilight, the world first saw the shimmering images loom on the horizon. 

In the rapid onslaught of darkness, the luminescent glow of just a few silvery-grey orbs descended upon the Earth like madness might sneak up on a young person’s mind, barely noticeable at first. Unwittingly, unknowingly, not registering until it’s too late, and then, no amount of running or hiding that could abate. An unnatural dawn glowed in the skies, indistinguishable from the harvest moon. 

More of them appeared now, silently keeping vigil in the night sky. Mockingly, as if to insult life itself, they kept multiplying as more of them appeared from nowhere into this bleak, bleary vision. Four, five, then dozens. 

Suspended in the eerie dusky afterglow, victorious in the knowledge that they have finally found us and have brought with them a bitter reckoning. 

Weaving with purpose between these tiny moons, something at last made sense but did not placate the troubled mind, the black monstrous Disciple-class cruiser, Gilgamesh, silently jettisoned a shuttle. Its twinkling rockets burned in the atmosphere as it descended upon the Central like a swooping hawk. 

Using the night sky and its own hunter instincts, it made a slow, triumphant landing. 

When the dust cleared from the lawns that once ostensibly proclaimed Jacob Freeman’s New Era, and as the landing ramp thunked upon the ground of the Central, a faint ghost-like image shimmered in the light cascading down the ramp, reflective in the many moons that now festooned these end of days, a woman appeared. Small but mighty. Her black hair as dark as her boots, her silhouette seemed to embrace the night sky and called it anew to this terrible glory. This was her world now, a world that would feel her unrestrained anger, her pure will and in the many moon’s bright luminescence that heralded her arrival, she now appeared at the bottom of the ramp. Twisting her riding crop between her leather gloved hands as if they were an extension of her own sick flesh, she merely smiled. 

All around, the feeling of battle enveloped her senses, particularly the faint smell of blood which made her skin bristle and crawl, men and women fighting for and against her. Fire, muzzle flashes, death, she strolled on as if it were nothing more than a midnight walk. A contingent of black armoured New Era Paladins surrounded her, protecting her from the fierce but futile resistance, picking off enemies; Some of them charged the group from over a nearby stone-retaining wall but fell before her, crying out in the agonizing moments before their bodies shook no more. She casually stepped over them, a minor inconvenience to her walk. 

A light shifted across her glistening black boots, it briefly shone upon her crimson military uniform, then flashed across her face. The red lipstick, a darker shade than usual, framed a sneer that beckoned for more, revelling in the moment. “Home at last” she breathed in the calamity. Her boots could be heard clacking against the dull concrete path as she walked past the infamous hanging tree. 

How fitting, she thought, now she had brought so many hanging trees with her, a feast of fury, where to begin? She knew where. One last stand of resistance now cut down inside what was once the ministry of data, blood splattered across her crimson lapels that she casually brushed aside. 

She waited patiently as one of her troops fumbled with keys, whilst others took position behind her, firing at a lone counter-attacker and she remembered the time not so long ago when she did the same, freeing her master with Nelson Jones by her side. 

Now she was the mistress of all things, the universe delivered her a smug satisfaction and she allowed herself to drink it in. She’d won, and oh how empowering it felt. 

Ira Bilis allowed herself the indulgence of shuddering with joy. In the darkness a surprisingly thin, prematurely aged full bearded man slowly emerged from his jail cell, wincing against the light. 

A dishevelled pitiful being, he feebly stepped into the glow of flashlights and regarded her scornfully. 

“You took your time getting here, Ira, or should I call you the Devil’s Dragon now, as I’ve heard?” He managed to cough between more gunshots that reverberated, clanging against the brittle steel and concrete domain that was his prison, no more. 

She ignored the question and failed to salute him, he noticed this slight and his eyes narrowed. 

“I had to make some other friends first.”She scowled as a stray bullet ricocheted off a nearby steel panel causing them all to duck momentarily. She walked up to him and smirked, dusting off his fur-lined overcoat with her hands which caused him to tense, she was unusually intimate but it wasn’t friendly, it seemed to him like a jockey inspecting a horse before mounting it. 

“They let you keep this hmm?”She gave a tap of her crop on one of his wolf furred lapels. “I can’t imagine you without it.” 

“It’s the only thing that’s kept me lucid these past eighteen months. Whilst you’ve been out looking for the Aesini Gods, I’ve been sitting on my ass here in this shithole watching the world fight over my father’s carcass.” he lamented. 

She tapped him on the shoulder with her riding crop, was it affectionate? 

“The wait is over, Jessie Freeman, the New Era’s back, for good this time.” She nodded slowly as she bent the riding crop against his chest with casual indifference, seemingly oblivious to the battle still raging outside. 

“My informers told me months ago that you were coming any day to rescue me with some back-up force, about fucking time!”The tone of his crude remark more than the vulgarity of the language caused her to wince. 

As she regarded him further, she raised her eyebrows at him, he not only looked like a young Jacob Freeman now that he’d grown a full beard and lost almost half of his weight, but his very demeanour resonated a maturity and intelligence that reminded her of his late father. She had to constrain her surprise at this, perhaps she’d miscalculated things. 

“Your incarceration has agreed with you, c’mon.” She quipped as they stepped over more dead bodies strewn across the darkness and rubble of the entrance to the once grand building, the rifle-mounted flashlights of the remaining troops lighting their path. 

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About the author:

Jason F Boggs has spent over 25 years in hotel Management where he experiences peoples' true natures - both good and bad, fertile ground for these stories. Jason currently lives on the Gold Coast in Australia with his wife SueEllen who patiently endures his imagination and their two cats, who do not.

"I set out to write something that would be a fantastic experience on the big screen, a thought provoking space opera with a female villain and a reluctant hero who's on a journey of self discovery. This action-packed trilogy explores what it means to be human, even if you're not". Jason F Boggs 2018. 

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