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Thunderbirds & Warlocks: Draca Deity Series - Edition 1
Thunderbirds & Warlocks: Draca Deity Series - Edition 1
Thunderbirds & Warlocks: Draca Deity Series - Edition 1
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Thunderbirds & Warlocks: Draca Deity Series - Edition 1

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Since the night a bolt from the blue struck 13-year-old Lachlan Wulf, strange things happened. His body was changing, the mark on his arm began to glow, and when faced with bullies he suddenly became unbeatable.
Then he heard a voice inside his head, it warned him.. ‘He draws near.” Lachy didn’t believe in the Thunderbird, but soon discovered differently when he was caught in the midst of a battle between Thunderbirds and Warlocks. It was terrifying, and yet, he admired their awesome power.
Lachy’s father, Horace Wulf had a secret, he was a sworn enemy of Thunderbirds, and hunted them, for more than just sport. Lachy’s love of his father, and loyalty that was growing toward the Thunderbird was frightening and confusing. Lachy must either see the extinction of the majestic Thunderbird Dragons, or risk the consequences of choosing the side opposing his father, forever changing his life, his home, and everything he ever knew.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateFeb 3, 2012
ISBN9781465822987
Thunderbirds & Warlocks: Draca Deity Series - Edition 1
Author

Willow Fae von Wicken

Willow Fae has travelled overseas exploring and embracing inspirations for her novels. Being nurtured in magic her entire life, she brings together enchanting worlds of unique, unforgettable beings, who brave obstacles of great peril, to maintain balance in the world.A college instructor by profession, she has been an online writer for many years, with over 4 million readers. Writing since she could hold a pen, she decided to share her novels with readers who love to escape to celestial worlds.In Willow Fae’s novels, good and evil aren’t always a simple matter of right and wrong, bad luck is the trip to being lucky, and consequences and misfortune are the elements to survival.

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  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    This is so cool that it should be made into a movie. Dragons, Warlocks, Amish Medieval Magic, an all around American boy, who has a magical background that he didn't know about. His father was a Warlock who hunted Thunderbird Dragons, and the Dragon saved his life with dragons blood. Now he is Warlock and Dragon, and must chose sides. And he choose to protect the Dragon from the Warlock hunters. IT was exciting and we can't wait for book two. A good book to read for tweens and teens, and even adults would like it.

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Thunderbirds & Warlocks - Willow Fae von Wicken

Table of Contents

Table of Contents

Title Page

Dedication

Preface

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Epilogue

About Author

Copyright Page

Back Jacket

Title Page

YA Fantasy Novel

Written and Illustrated by

WILLOW FAE VON WICKEN

Inspired by Wulfang von Wicken

Copyright © 2011 Dymond Publishing

Thank you for purchasing this novel, please show your appreciation to the Author's hard work by submitting a favorable review.

Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

Dedication

To My Son Wulfang.

My inspiration, my guide, and the rule maker of this novel.

Preface

Since the night a bolt from the blue struck 13-year-old Lachlan Wulf, strange things happened. His body was changing, the mark on his arm began to glow, and when faced with bullies he suddenly became unbeatable.

Then he heard a voice inside his head, it warned him.. ‘He draws near." Lachy didn’t believe in the Thunderbird, but soon discovered differently when he was caught in the midst of a battle between Thunderbirds and Warlocks. It was terrifying, and yet, he admired their awesome power.

Lachy’s father, Horace Wulf had a secret, he was a sworn enemy of Thunderbirds, and hunted them, for more than just sport. Lachy’s love of his father, and loyalty that was growing toward the Thunderbird was frightening and confusing. Lachy must either see the extinction of the majestic Thunderbird Dragons, or risk the consequences of choosing the side opposing of his father, forever changing his life, his home, and everything he ever knew.

Thunderbirds are considered an urban legend, even though the sightings have been sparsely recorded for seven hundred years, by humanity.

Chapter One

There was a snap, in the woods by the road. Lachlan Wulf sped up his bike with all his strength as he felt the tiny hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

There it went again.

Beads of sweat were gliding down the sides of his cheeks, and he shook his head, trying to get a grip on things. It wasn’t an unusually startling noise, and it didn’t even sound that much out of the ordinary, but it gave him a creepy feeling. He rode that way for a good ten minutes, straining his ears to listen, the sound was steady at first, and gradually faded, until he could hear no more. With ears his still alert, he was starting to feel a little more at ease, and he lifted his feet, and let the bike to coast on its own. He was near the Amish Farm Community, a farm among many in Honey Brook PA, it gave him a peaceful safe feeling because it meant that he was nearly home. A shutter of bitter cool air blew in his face, off in the distance an echoing rumble of thunder interrupted his thoughts. That struck Lachy as strange, considering the day had been clear skies and good weather. Never can tell when a storm is going to strike, he figured as his eyes lifted, the clouds began to darken overhead, and he supposed that was a good clue. Lachy swallowed hard, he never did like the sound of thunder, much.

His ears perked. Another branch cracked, and leaves crunched. He normally didn’t pay attention to the woods, and he looked about and couldn’t see anything through the trees. He gulped, recalling his dad telling him to watch out for wild animals, and considered how he hadn’t seen one in all the days he rode home on his bike. He held in a breath, everything felt still, even the birds had gone quiet, and he looked down as goose bumps chilled up his arms. He paid close attention and was sure the noises came from the woods, opposite the Amish Farm. The forest was wild and stretched on for miles, and there wasn’t a house in sight. Lachy looked closer toward the trees but all he could see were thick shadows, and he gripped the handlebars tighter. Even though he couldn’t see anything, he was sure there was something in there, moving along with him as he rode. His stressful breath released when he heard commotion coming from the direction of the Amish farm.

He tilted his head curiously toward Mr. Abraham Schmidt, and lifted his hand up with a wave. He liked Mulish Schmidt, a nickname from Mr. Schmidt’s brothers, because they say he had the stubborn temperament of a mule. Lachy thought it was a funny nickname. He didn’t have a brother and supposed if he did, it might be fun to give him a nickname, too. Mulish and his brothers were high up on ladders, painting a blood red star with a circle around it, and Lachy wondered what the weird marking meant. He looked closer and had an eerie feeling, the other barns in Mulish Schmidt’s field had the same strange stars.

The first slam Lachy heard was so loud that it made him blink. He shifted his view to the houses, and saw Mrs. Salome Schmidt, who everyone called Mulish’s Lomey, slamming the storm shutters closed on the farmhouse. He supposed they were getting ready for the sudden storm, and he stepped hard and fast on the peddles again. The muscles in his legs tightened as another spine-chilling feeling came over him, the Schmidts had lowered their paint brushes to their sides, and turned their heads one by one, glaring in his direction. Lachy’s posture stiffened when he saw their ghostly expressions on bearded chins, it wasn’t like the Amish not to be friendly.

He changed his view to straight ahead. He still felt their eyes on him, but he wasn’t about to look back. He supposed the strange behavior of his neighbors wasn’t really that peculiar, he remembered his father telling him that the Amish were the plain people, they shunned outsiders, and lived life as people did about a thousand years ago, or more, Lachy supposed, as he wasn’t really sure. What he did know, was they didn’t have electricity and rode around in black wagons pulled by horses. The Amish boys wore black pants and suspenders, they weren’t allowed to go to Lachy’s school, or play sports, but he liked them just the same. They always waved hello, and Mulish’s Lomey was a good baker, he loved tasting her sweet trays, especially her Heirloom Fruitcake at the Lititz Market in Lancaster.

Lachy soon forgot about the Schmidts as he had his favorite sport, basketball, on his mind. He couldn’t wait to tell his dad about the three-pointer he scored in the second half, it was his best game ever. Even his best friend Jake Cade played great, too, scoring in the last quarter with a one-point win, of 23 to 22. The thunder rumbled. His pulse fired up again, and as he came closer to his house, he sped the tires with a wild strenuous effort. With his shoulders hunched forward, he didn’t dare look up, the boom of the thunder was directly overhead, it was so fierce that the handlebars vibrated beneath his fingers, his arms and legs were shaking frantically.

Hurry it up Lachy, it looks like rain, his dad said, as Lachy pulled into the yard. He was standing by the mailbox watching for him, blocking his arm against the big gust of wind that picked up. Lachy’s dark jade eyes squinted as he braced for a fall, and he tried to steady himself on the seat of his bike then a thick squall of wind made his tires wobble.

Lachy jumped with a fright. A crack of lightning streaked above them, and he gazed up with awe as it was followed by another rumble of thunder. Lachy shivered as he took in anxious breaths, it didn’t sound right to say out loud, but he had a strange feeling that the thunder followed him, and so did something else. The cracks and crunches in the woods had been constant since he left the courts at the beginning of Orchard Avenue. Lachy parked his bike and reached out his hand, testing for raindrops, and there was not a drop to catch. His head shot up as a lightning bolt came from the blue. His dad was the target.

Watch out! Lachy screamed, raising his arms high. Before he had time to think, the lightning bolt jerked to the side and he was blinded by a flash.

After a long moment passed, Lachy lay breathless, flat out on his back and puffs of smoke feathered around him. He wasn’t in pain, but the look on his father’s face made his heart sink. His father was screaming his name, as he ran to him and Lachy felt hot breaths of air on his forehead as his father fanned the smoke away with his hand. He was so shut in, that he was barely aware of what happened, as his father’s strong arms picked him up, and carried him, racing toward the truck. Lachy glanced back, and his eyes lit with surprise, the sight he saw reminded him of a TV crime scene, an outline of chalky ash had out printed his profile, in the place where he fell. At any other time Lachy would have thought it was wicked, he’d even want a picture, but he was too frosted with the jitters to care one way or the other. While his father drove down Orchard Avenue and onto route 101 toward Lancaster Emergency Center, Lachy watched the skies, waiting for the rain to pour down. It didn’t. The thunder had stopped.

--

The doors to the Lancaster Emergency Center opened with a bang. Lachy was stretched out, limp in his father’s arms, and was immediately rushed into a room with bright white walls. A man in a lime outfit and cloth slippers that matched, came in behind them, and placed a kind hand on his dad’s shoulder. Horace, I’m going to have to ask you to wait outside. Lachy heard him say and he blinked helplessly as his dad nodded his head, and quietly left the room. Lachy kept his eyes on the door, and didn’t breathe again until he caught a glimpse of his father through the big glass window that made up most of the wall to the room. He waved to his dad, who was lifting a cell phone to his ear, and then turned his head as the Doc pulled up a chair beside the gurney.

Hello young man, I’m Doc Chapelstone. Let’s take a look, shall we? The Doc said, pulling out a tray and fiddled around with instruments of cold hard steel, some of the tools were scary looking, syringes, jagged and pointy knives. Lachy’s eyes widened with uncertainty, he had an unpleasant feeling lurch inside his stomach, he couldn’t imagine what they were used for, and hoped he didn’t have to find out the hard way. Lachy’s forehead broke into a sweat, the Doc was taking way too long to pick one, and there wasn’t anything on the tray that he’d like to see the Doc choose. He looked up to where his father had been standing, and sadness rained over him, his dad wasn’t there, no doubt he took his phone call to the outside parking lot. He returned his attention to the Doc, and his shoulders relaxed, as the Doc chose a stethoscope. That’s harmless and much better than a needle, Lachy was thinking, it wasn’t as though he was afraid of needles, he simply wasn’t fond of them, either. The Doc slipped the stethoscope around his neck and took a listen to Lachy’s heart. Your dad tells me that you were struck by lightning.

Yes sir. Lachy replied, looking down at his torn shirt and for the first time since it happened he noticed there were burn marks, and new rips on his jeans. He was quick to covers a hand over the rips, expecting it to hurt, and realizing he must be badly burned.

We are going to run a few tests on you. Promise it won’t hurt. The Doc said with a sympathetic smile, and got to his feet. He returned the tray to the desk, and took something out of the cupboard, and quick as a snap he called, Catch. Then with a thoughtful smile, he left Lachy to his business.

Lachy caught the t-shirt with one hand, and as the Doc left, he considered how to put it on. His nose wrinkled up as he thought it looked like a granny nightgown, except there was no back. He was at first wary of looking at the spots where his jeans smoldered smoke as he heard of people being stuck by lightning, and not one of the stories he heard ended well. He always felt sad when he heard those stories, as it sounded like a horrible way to die. He realized how lucky he was to be still standing and braved a peek. He brushed his fingers over the soot markings on his legs, and took a double take. There was nothing there. He smoothed the soot off with the corner of the bed sheet and couldn’t believe his eyes. No burns, no cuts, nothing but the odd smudge made of soot. He was mulling it over, speculating if it was a good sign, as the heavy weight he’d felt in his chest lifted.

No harm will come to you.

Who said that? Lachy said, alerted to any sound of footsteps. There wasn’t any.

I will come again.

Is that you Doc Chapelstone? Lachy asked, waiting for someone to appear in the window, for the door handle to move, for a sign of anyone who might walk in. There was nothing. Lachy stood for several moments, fighting the fears that threatened to return, the fears that were crawling up his arms and creeping down the back of his neck when he was riding his bike. When something followed him, from the woods.

The thumping of footsteps alerted him, and this time he knew the Doc was coming back. He shook his head pulling himself out of the trance he’d be in, and hurried to finish dressing, reluctantly clutching the opening in the granny nightie behind his back. Before the Doc opened the door, he managed to hop up on the bed, and was fast to hide his legs under the sheet.

The Doc came in, and chuckled under his breath. The designer of those hospital gowns must have been born in a barn?

Lachy didn’t get the joke, but he smiled, anyway. He sat back and watched curiously, enduring flashlight blasts in his eyes during the Doctor's examination. Then he was sent off to another room where he was grilled with more tests, this time with machines. Lachy endured all the testing, and couldn’t stop thinking about the mysterious person who was talking to him, the one he couldn’t see. He hadn’t heard it again, and listened carefully to the people around him, trying to pick up on the familiarity of a voice. Not one of them came close, no one had that

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