The Fires of Man

The Fires of Man

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by Dan Levinson
     
 

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In a world where a gifted few can manipulate reality with their minds, two great nations—Calchis and Orion—employ these psionic powers in a covert war for global superiority. In the heart of Calchis, a young psion named Aaron is kidnapped and forcibly conscripted into the Calchan army. To the north, in the capital, a dastardly plan is hatched to

Overview

In a world where a gifted few can manipulate reality with their minds, two great nations—Calchis and Orion—employ these psionic powers in a covert war for global superiority. In the heart of Calchis, a young psion named Aaron is kidnapped and forcibly conscripted into the Calchan army. To the north, in the capital, a dastardly plan is hatched to decimate Orion, to be carried out by the ruthless operative known only as “Agent.” Meanwhile, across the vast desert that separates the two warring states, Orion recruit Stockton Finn finds himself thrown into a new world of incredible powers he has never dreamed of. And Orion officers Nyne Allen and Kay Barrett navigate the aftermath of their shattered love affair, oblivious to the fact that Calchis is drawing ever closer to destroying the tenuous peace between their two lands. Finally, in the arctic land of Zenith, Calchan archaeologist Faith Santia unearths a millennia-old ruin that may shed light on the history of psionic powers and a deeper mystery that could shake the foundations of all mankind.

Product Details

ISBN-13:
9781939967329
Publisher:
Jolly Fish Press
Publication date:
06/17/2014
Series:
Psionic Earth Series
Pages:
392
Product dimensions:
6.00(w) x 8.90(h) x 0.90(d)

Read an Excerpt

Fires of Man

Book 1 of the Psionic Earth Series


By Dan Levinson

Jolly Fish Press

Copyright © 2014 Dan Levinson
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-939967-48-0


CHAPTER 1

AGENT


He ran toward the edge of the cliff.

The sun beat down upon him as his limbs pumped. Earth crunched beneath his feet, and a breeze blew across his black-stubbled scalp. His breathing was calm, meticulously measured.

When the ground slipped away, he felt only anticipation.

Plummeting, the man inhaled. Power flooded into him, thrilling, delicious. He reached out with that power, warping reality with an energy born from the depths of his being. Suddenly ...

He winked out of existence ...

And then reappeared at the base of the cliff.

Ahead lay a farmstead, awash in noontime light. Past its assorted buildings — barns and silos, stables and chicken coops — a field of wheat swayed like the hair of some sleeping giant.

It would burn soon.

Through his years of service, he'd been called many things: "raven;" "hellhound;" "black-hearted bastard." There was but one epithet that mattered — the one he'd earned with blood and devotion.

He was "Agent."

A man with no name. A man who owed his nation everything.

Just then, he spotted his quarry — a teenage farmhand named Aaron Waverly. The boy had power — strong power, according to the readings.

Agent dashed toward the farm; dry winds kicked dirt and debris over his steel-toed boots. The expanse of greenery blurred past. He moved swift as a shooting star, his power saturating him with speed and strength.

When Waverly turned and saw, it was too late.

Agent teleported behind Waverly, and struck once, at the base of the farmhand's skull. The young man collapsed, and Agent caught him, and slung him over his shoulder.

"Stop!"

A frown split the crags of Agent's face.

Before him stood a girl, no more than sixteen, a pitchfork clutched in her fingers. She was a pretty thing, her blond tresses tied back in a ponytail, her face darkened by hours in the field. She was an innocent. Agent did not relish the thought of ending her.

"Run," he said.

"I'll scream," she said, her eyes flitting to the silenced pistol at his side. She hesitated.

He laid a hand on the gun. "Run," he repeated.

She ran.

He drew his weapon and shot her in the back of the head.

She pitched forward, hit the ground, dead. Blood spread in a widening pool around her. Waverly groaned, eyelids flickering. Agent holstered the gun and looked at the girl. Killing civilians was distasteful, but she had seen him. He'd had no choice.

Now, time to go.

Agent stepped toward the nearby barn, and pressed his palm against the red-painted planks. He sent his power into it, and a ripple spread through the wood, like a pebble striking the surface of a pond. Furrows of heat fanned out from his fingertips, crackling furiously.

He turned away and teleported to safety.

Back atop the cliff, he paused to watch his handiwork.

The barn exploded. Eruptive force flattened surrounding buildings and rocked the landscape. Screams broke out below, the sound carried on the wind. Again, Waverly stirred on Agent's shoulder.

Agent smiled, and was gone.

CHAPTER 2

FINN


Sand blew past Stockton Finn in flurries. For the hundredth time he shielded his eyes. It was damn hot, but he kept his uniform jacket on and tried to ignore the sweat coating his body. It was a matter of pride. When the Orion Special Forces had come knocking, it had been for him, and him alone; not for his stronger older brothers, who'd always teased him, and called him "Stump" because of his small stature. So he was going to keep his jacket on, even if it killed him.

The convoy had been going a half-hour now — ten open-air, all-terrain vehicles jammed with fresh recruits. Behind him lay the titanic walls of Grisham City, soaking up sunlight with countless solar panels. Ahead, Grisham Desert was also a wonder. Miles of shimmering sand stretched to infinity. Dunes rose and fell, reflecting light with crystalline iridescence.

Finn had been enraptured at first, but the heat had quickly left him wishing for a drink, shade, and a shower. His body sweltered beneath his uniform. He could feel fine grains of sand that had managed to get inside the crevices of his clothing. His throat was dry; his eyes watered; his skin burned. He hadn't brought sunscreen, and now he regretted it.

There were four other riders on Finn's ATV — three boys and a girl. They looked relaxed, having stripped off their leathers and uniform shirts, down to their standard-issue gray undershirts.

It was the girl that caught Finn's attention. Her copper hair was tucked in a bun, and he could not help but watch as the wind teased out strands that tickled her delicate features. There was a pensiveness about her as she gazed out at the desert. She kept her arms tightly folded around her slim waist, still and solemn as stone.

She's beautiful, Finn thought. He did not mean to stare, but could not help himself.

As if sensing his attention, the girl turned to him. "What?" she asked.

He flushed.

"N-nothing," he stuttered back. He averted his eyes and studied the creases of his palms instead.

At eighteen years old, Finn had never been with a woman. Whenever his brothers questioned him, he'd lied and told them tales of girlfriends he'd never had. But the truth was he was as much a virgin as the day he was born.

When it came to women, Finn always thought he'd do the wrong thing, or bury his eyes where they shouldn't be. He thought his words would come out in a jumble of nonsense. Training in the Special Forces would make him braver. Or else nothing would.

With a lurch, the armored car crested a final dune.

In the cradle of a massive valley lay an outpost. Finn saw trucks in droves, carrying supplies. On the left, barracks, a mess hall, and supply shacks stood like slabs of granite against the backdrop of white-gold sand. Squat command buildings lay on the right. At the center of the compound was a vast parade ground with rows of reinforced metal targets. Finn could see the targets were blackened, the nearby ground pitted from some explosive.

The vehicles stopped at the base of the dune. Finn's stomach was a knot of tension. He and the others unloaded from the cars, forming into a tight line.

A stern man in a white uniform appeared, his face lined and brown like old leather, his hair a gray buzz, his eyes the color of glacier ice. "Attention!" he hollered. "Welcome to Desert Outpost Four. This is where you'll eat, shit, and sleep for the next three months. I'm Sergeant Douglass. 'Drill Sergeant' to you little pukes. Clear?"

Finn nodded. A few of the recruits mumbled words of acquiescence.

Douglass was not pleased. "That clear?" he echoed.

"Yes, Drill Sergeant!"

Douglass nodded. "Follow me."

He led the group out to the farthest limit of the field, where the battered targets lay.

"Some of y'all might know what we're about," he said. "The rest are in for a surprise. How's about a demonstration? Volunteers?" He surveyed the line. No one stepped forward.

Finn tensed. He didn't know what the sergeant was talking about. He didn't even understand why he'd been selected for the Special Forces in the first place. He could envision Douglass telling him there had been a mistake, that the uniform had been meant for one of his brothers: Garrett Finn, or Judd Finn. Not Stockton the Stump.

Douglass's gaze passed over Finn, and instead settled on the red-haired girl from Finn's car. "What's your name?" he asked.

"Private Sonja DeGaulle," she said.

"Know what we do here?"

"Yes, Drill Sergeant," Sonja said.

"Show us." Douglass moved aside and gestured down the length of the field.

"Yes, Drill Sergeant," Sonja repeated. She stepped forward from the line. Beads of perspiration popped on her nose and forehead. She inhaled deeply.

Finn stared. He was mesmerized by the expansion and contraction of Sonja's back with each breath. He watched a rivulet of sweat trace a line down the side of her face, trail down her slender neck. His mouth was chalk. He swallowed, but it caught in his gullet and it was all he could do to stifle the cough.

"We don't got all day, girlie," Douglass said.

Sonja's eyebrows drew together in concentration, and Finn thought she looked nervous. She thrust out her hand, splaying her fingers.

Something began to happen.

Shimmering waves rose from Sonja's outstretched hand, distorting the air like heat waves. At first Finn thought it was a trick of the light. What else could it be?

Suddenly that heat condensed into a ball of fire, roiling with intensity.

It's not a trick! Finn realized. It's real!

It reminded him of magic, right out of childhood stories. But this was no fantasy. There were no spells, no wizard's staves. This was something completely different.

Sonja made a throwing motion. The fiery orb arced into the distance, cutting across the red-gold evening sky. For a moment, the ball of fire appeared to merge with the setting sun. Then it fell, a single molten teardrop.

It exploded.

Flame lanced out from the point of impact, erupting in brilliant colors: scarlet and burnt orange, yellow, and shining amber. Finn stood transfixed. It was the most wondrous thing he had ever seen — more beautiful than the sapphire waters of the beaches in Vyse; more still than his mother's smile; or the garden in Dawn's Reach; or Jeni Darby when he kissed her under the cherry tree in seventh grade.

When the light died down, Finn peeked at the other trainees. A few gave knowing smiles; most were as awed as Finn himself.

"Serviceable," Douglass said, "but sloppy."

Someone started clapping. Finn joined in.

The clamor grew. People began whooping and cheering. Sonja offered Douglass a bow, then resumed her place in the line. Several of the privates pounced on her; they lifted her in their arms, tossed her hair, patted her on the back. Some others observed from farther away, regarding her with apprehension. As for Douglass, Finn thought he spied the hint of a smile on the sergeant's weathered face.

When the din subsided, Douglass bellowed, "Had your fill? Back to attention, and I mean now!" He glared at them until they arranged themselves in the semblance of a line. "I don't wanna see that kind of unruly conduct ever again."

The response was a resounding, "Yes, Drill Sergeant!"

"Good."

For the next few hours, Finn and the other recruits attempted to use their power. "It's like a spark," Douglass told them, "deep down in your core. You grab hold, you pull on that like you're suckin' down a soda. That ain't too hard for you pissants, is it?"

For Finn, it was like trying to catch smoke with his fingers. He tried to follow the sergeant's instructions, but every time he felt a glow deep inside, it retreated as soon as he reached for it. And the effort of grasping for it left him strangely exhausted. As night fell, the desert became cool, then cold. Coated in slick sweat, Finn shivered every time a breeze blew through the valley.

There were those who succeeded immediately. One recruit sent gobs of flame skipping across the ground like a pebble on a pond, while another threw twinkling viridian sparks that bowed outward before homing on the targets at the end of the field. Each successful soldier was allowed to stand aside and watch. The people around Finn dwindled. Memories of the schoolyard rose up in him — being picked last for kickball and softball and everything else.

Douglass walked up, and Finn felt despair settle in his stomach like a lump of lead. He couldn't let himself be shipped home, a failure. He didn't think he could take his brothers' laughter.

Somehow, he had to do this!

"No rush," Douglass said to him. "We'll stand here all night if we have to."

"Yes, Drill —"

The sound of an approaching vehicle cut him off. An open-air ATV barreled down the slope and into the outpost, kicking up sand. A tall, broad-shouldered blond man sat in the passenger seat.

The car came to a halt near the line of recruits. The blond man hopped out, moving with a fluid, well-trained grace. He wore the white jacket of the Special Forces, a gray shirt, and desert camo pants. A kaleidoscope assortment of campaign ribbons and insignias of rank was pinned along his chest and shoulders. He marched toward the group, expression calm, his face all hard, rough-hewn angles; his eyes, two chips of green jade, were set in deep sockets. This was not a man to be trifled with, Finn knew at once.

Everyone fell silent, Douglass included. The blond man's presence commanded attention. The drill sergeant stepped forward to greet the unknown officer. They shook hands, and shared a brief exchange. The blond man smiled once, but it did not reach his eyes.

Douglass turned to address the group. "Our guest has a few words. Listen up and listen good!" Then he stepped back and let the other man take his place at the fore.

The blond man was quiet for a time, his pupils scanning back and forth, taking everyone in. Finn held his breath when the man's eyes passed over him.

"My name is Captain Nyne Allen," the man said at last. His voice was soft, yet clear. "I belong to a secret branch of the Orion Special Forces: the Psi Corps. Now, you're probably confused, afraid. That's okay. In the weeks ahead, you'll come to understand what it means to be one of us. For now, know this: you are special. You're important. Only you can master your psionic abilities, and help defend our nation from those who'd use these same powers against it." He paused. "Despite what you might've been taught, the war with Calchis never ended. It changed. So, welcome to the new battlefront. Welcome to the Psi Corps." Finn felt a chill. No one spoke. The wind howled across the dunes. The captain looked over the group again. His eyes rested on Finn.

Finn gulped.

"What's your name, soldier?" the captain asked.

"F-Finn, sir. Private Stockton Finn."

"Show me what you can do, Private Finn."

"I ... I can't, sir." Finn's heart hammered in his chest, a rapid thud-thud thud-thud. "I can't do anything." The other recruits were murmuring now. If his brothers were here, they'd be laughing and calling him Stump. Finn searched the faces of his comrades, ready to face their judgment, their ridicule.

Then he saw Sonja.

She watched him, not with judgment or mirth or even pity, but with conviction. She did not know him, yet he could feel her silent encouragement. She made him want to be strong.

The captain laid a hand on Finn's shoulder. Finn summoned the strength to meet the man's gaze.

"Do me a favor, Private," Captain Allen said.

"Yes, sir."

"Look up."

Finn did.

The stars were everywhere — shining pinpricks dotting the vast blanket of space. Finn's life had been spent a stone's throw from the metropolis of New Axom, where the city's glow smothered all but the brightest stars. He realized he had never seen the night sky with such clarity, unhindered by the streetlights, neon signs, and bright windows that punctuated the landscape of civilization.

"I want you to focus on a star," said the captain. "Any one you like."

Finn knew which star he wanted. Called Tiger's Eye, it sat at the head of the constellation Tigris, burning with such ferocity that the nearby stars were dampened in its presence. Finn let the star fill his vision. It was as if he could feel its warmth spilling down from space.

"Concentrate on that star, until it's the only thing in your mind," the captain said. "Now, close your eyes. But imagine your star is there, behind your eyelids. Right there with you."

Finn pictured Tiger's Eye. He felt the captain unfurl his fingers so he held out his palm.

"Imagine you can move your star any way you like," the captain said. "Up, down, side to side. Then, picture it drifting into your hand. Good. Open your eyes."

Finn did, and gasped. A perfect copy of Tiger's Eye hovered above his hand, shedding silvery light. He grinned, exultant. He tossed the star over his head.

It burst into a thousand twinkling particles.

The captain let slip his first truly genuine smile of the evening — one that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. The other recruits burst into applause, cheering for Finn as they had earlier for Sonja. Finn looked for her, but she remained off to the side, awarding him with only a single glance that bespoke her approval.

It was enough. The heaviness lifted itself from his shoulders.

This was where he belonged.


(Continues...)

Excerpted from Fires of Man by Dan Levinson. Copyright © 2014 Dan Levinson. Excerpted by permission of Jolly Fish Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

Meet the Author

Dan Levinson is a graduate of New York University’s Tisch School of Arts and has dabbled in acting, screenwriting, and writing for the stage. He lives in Great Neck, New York.

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The Fires of Man 5 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 6 reviews.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
On the edge of my seat throughout reading Dan Levinson's Fires of Man the first in his Sci-Fi novel series, Psionic Earth Fires of Man which is filled with detail and emotion. . It is a story of war on what seems to be an earth-like place told from both points of view of each of the nations who are at war. Reminiscent of our own planets’ turmoils through the ages. I’m not quite sure if this is Earth in the distant future or not, that’s part of the great mystery. It is a time and place where a select few have powers to manipulate using their minds, psionic powers, and this adds to the intensity and mystery that Levinson is building for the reader. The novel has an unusual set up of chapters. Each chapter is titled with a character’s name and told from their point of view. This took some getting used to. I found myself on a few occasions wanting to jump ahead to a particular character’s next chapter to find out the outcome of his or her plot. But I refrained and the intense storylines intertwined gradually. This book is heavy on character development with so many characters to get to know I sometimes had to look back on past pages to remember who was connected and how. I really felt for each character’s story and point of view, even the ones we technically shouldn’t have. So excited to read the next in the series.
BenitoR More than 1 year ago
Fires of Man is engaging from start to finish. As a person who loves history, follows international relations and global news - the author, Dan Levinson does a great job in creating a world which seems to mirror a modern reality of nation states. The two major powers in the book, Calchis and Orion remind me of the US and China, or perhaps the US and Russia. While there are other nations mentioned and introduced we still do not know too much about them from the first book, but the seed has been planted which makes me look forward to the future books to learn more about the world the author has created. The characters draw you in and you yearn to know more about their past and where their POV (point of view) stories are going. The Psionic powers they employ are a unique creation by the author in which select elite can channel their Psionic ability into almost magical attacks and defenses. The Psionic powers almost mirror secret technologies in the real world which can both protect and destroy. All in all its a great book which introduces a world which I feel I enter as I read the book. I only wish I could explore more of the world Dan Levinson has created and I look forward to the future books.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Although I’m an avid reader, I only finish about half the novels I start. Some I’m done in the first fifty pages, while others I make a decision to continue around the halfway mark. No author is immune; I’ve quit bestselling authors I’ve loved previously. This novel I read and couldn’t put down, devouring close to half the first night. That said, it was an even bigger surprise because I’m not a fan of science fiction or anything with superpowers. Star Wars would’ve been far better in my opinion if Luke Skywalker had been killed by the sand people fifteen minutes in, leaving Han Solo to gallivant around the galaxy. Levinson’s characters are so vivid and fun, I couldn’t pick a favorite. Additionally I have never read a novel with this many characters where I didn’t get a little lost in the cast, trying to remember who was doing what. Not true here. Levinson writes male and female characters equally well.  I found the prose easy, fast-paced and vibrant with very few extra words or redundancies. The scenes were immersive and I can’t remember a place where the novel read slowly. Write on, Mr. Levinson. I’m looking forward to book two!
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
A page turner-- can't wait for the next installment!  As a "Trekkie" (from the original 1960s Star Trek series, not the other "generations"), this was a great read for me.  Unlike the simplistic, monochromatic extra terrestrial cultures of many sci-fi stories, Levinson has crafted a complex, multi-cultural world in The Fires of Man.  However, it should be noted... this is present day Earth, somehow familiar-- yet an alien, alternate world nonetheless.   The book is beautifully written with characters that are fully fleshed out and true to life--psionic powers not withstanding.  Levinson does an excellent job of portraying female characters who, like their male counterparts, feel the ravages of war. Characters-- and countries-- for that matter, are neither evil nor good; but rather shades of gray along the spectrum of good and evil.  I did enjoy the literary device of chapters devoted to single characters.  Although the thread that connects the characters is not fully explored in the first book of the series, I suspect the thread will be tighten in the next two installments.  This is an imaginative, well written novel that would translate well to the big screen, in my opinion.  Until that happens, I'm eagerly awaiting Book 2 of the series.
PureJonel More than 1 year ago
What a thrill ride!  Levinson had me on my toes guessing right from the very first page.  This is definitely an action packed novel.  Even the downtime has a sense of urgency, pushing you forward.  I thoroughly enjoyed how real personal issues combine with work and the overarching plot of the story to create a completely captivating whole.  There are also a number of theories and concepts running as undercurrent to the entire story that make everything all the more vivid for the reader.  Every element in this story serves to introduce the reader to this new world while taking them on the journey of a lifetime. By switching perspectives between characters from chapter to chapter Levinson is able to individually develop the major players in an intimate yet action packed manner, while simultaneously developing his multifaceted storyline.   I was also struck by the characters’ names.  They are simultaneously ordinary yet out of the ordinary.  They stand out without making you rack your brain to remember, making everything that much more memorable.  Levinson’s character development doesn’t stop with individual characters.  He develops entire races, nations, and factions of people.  This entire world is developed to the fullest.   Levinson has created a uniquely multifaceted work that stands out in the SciFi genre.  This is not a light read but it was definitely very enjoyable and well worth the time.  I’d recommend it to any who enjoy science fiction with a twist.   Please note that I received a complimentary copy of this work in exchange for an honest review.
IngaKS More than 1 year ago
My review: Fires of Man by Dan Levinson is an interesting book. It's well written and the settings are quite unique. You will experience an alternative world, which is somewhat similar to ours and yet very different. There are two worlds - Calchis and Orion - which are on the edge of a war, wanting nothing less than a supremacy. Let me start with saying, that even though it's a first novel in a series, it can't be read as stand alone book. Fires of Man introduces you the two superpowers, the worlds of Calchis and Orion and to its people. It consists of many subplots which characters are crossing each others paths and a lot of characters who doesn't. It builds up to a whole lot to happen, but it doesn't conclude anything. There is no clear ending, you are left with many questions about what will happen to the characters. What's also specific for Fires of Man is, that I couldn't in point clear main characters. It's not necessarily a bad thing, because they all have a story to tell and the characters are very engaging and well written. It's just that there is nobody specific whose story is more significant than others. There are some similarities to George R.R. Martin where you never know what's going to happen next and which characters is going to be killed off in a book. The emphasis is not only on one or two characters, but on many and their stories are equally important and fascinating. What I loved about Fires of Man is that it emphasizes a lot on how war influences people, be it how the characters grow from kids to a man and then forced to develop into men to soldiers. I think that part of the story I liked the best. It builds tension where first there is a cold war and you know, even before it happens, that there will be a real one. It's well written and the dialogue was very good, it seemed real and believable, even though it dealt with different worlds and with people with psionic powers. I also think that it would be suitable for the big screen, meaning that it was written in a way which created pictures, it's very visual in my opinion. It's like you get scenes of different situations and people and then it switches to a parallel story in the book. Fires of Man gives a great start for the series. Well done!