1. The traveller

The Three Moons Mythos, Book 1: A Queen of Light and Shadow

The Three Moons Mythos

Book 1: A queen of light and shadow

Dedication

This novel is dedicated to the amazing creative, talented and passionate women who have crossed paths with me in my life. At times I have been a damaged and chaotic fool, hopelessly stumbling through existence, tripping upon my own emotions and failing forward. Just like Rick I felt like I met these superhuman beautiful, powerful and at times damaged goddesses that for a time have inspired, aroused and/or uplifted me. I keep on trying to learn and grow and I wouldn’t have done even half of it without these wonderful women. The characters presented are exaggerated in some areas and believe it or not toned down in others and placed in a scifi fictional setting, but I can assure you I have met some truly exceptional women in my life. I hope that I can present a window into their beauty, genius, eccentricities, flaws and sexuality. This is an equal opportunity Lovecraftian nightmare, time for the women of science, technology, business and medicine to take their place in the crawling chaotic insanity at the heart of reality.

An important source of inspiration for me has been the late Dr Steve LeComber, my PhD supervisor. Steve was a man who came late into academia, he was a journalist for many years before retraining later in life as a mathematical biologist. He showed me that it is never too late in life to start new things if you believe in yourself. You are sorely missed Steve.

I would also like to thank my brother, mother and my friend Jon. Who have been my main proofreaders and encouraged me even when I utterly lacked the conviction in my own work and my own self. My work would not exist without their support and I am eternally grateful.

My thanks to Jesús Santana for his amazing art. He has been a pleasure to work with and has brought scenes and characters to life in ways that I had not even imagined. I cannot recommend him enough.

In a very real sense this novel would not exist without the hard work of the staff at Wetherspoons in Aldershot, keeping me supplied with fried breakfasts (with two extra eggs) and cherry Pepsi Max. Thank you for looking after me.

I would also like to extend my gratitude to the staff and my peers at Oasis Runcorn, where I completed my rehab program. This first novel represents my first strong and bold step out of my shadow. I could not have made that step without you, every single one of you. Stay strong and know you all have hope, you are not hopeless, never again give in to hopelessness. My love and respect always.

When in recovery you learn who your real friends are.

“There is no permanence. Do we build a house to stand for ever, do we seal a contract to hold for all time? Do brothers divide an inheritance to keep for ever, does the flood-time of rivers endure? It is only the nymph of the dragon-fly who sheds her larva and sees the sun in his glory. From the days of old there is no permanence. The sleeping and the dead, how alike they are, they are like a painted death. What is there between the master and the servant when both have fulfilled their doom?”

The Epic of Gilgamesh

Act 1: There is the house of the people who sit in darkness

The traveller

“But Sauron was not of mortal flesh, and though he was robbed now of that shape in which had wrought so great an evil, so that he could never again appear fair to the eyes of Men, yet his spirit arose out of the deep and passed as a shadow and a black wind over the sea…”

J.R.R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion

No longer did she drift on the currents of thought, or match her breath to the will of another, now she walked the paths of darkness as a being more than the sum of its parts, still lost, still searching.

Unable to live, unable to die.

She stood before an awful being, a sombre faced man bird, he turned his stare towards her and he led the traveller away to the palace of Queen, the Queen of darkness and light, to the house of which none who entered ever returns.

There is the house of the people who sit in darkness, dust is their food and clay their meat, they are clothed like birds with wings for covering, they see no light, they sit in darkness.

She entered the house of dust and she saw the kings of the earth, their crowns put away forever, rulers and princes all who once wore kingly crowns and ruled the world in the days of old. They who had stood in the place of the gods stood now like servants, in the house of dust were high priests and acolytes, priests of the incantation and of ecstasy.

And there was the queen, the queen of the underworld, she who wields the books of the dead. The traveller raised her head, the queen saw her and spoke,

“Who has brought this one here?”

A tiny and cruel smile started to appear upon the lips of the dark queen, as a wound splitting open. The form of a crescent moon.

“He rises, she descends.”

Then she awoke, the woman drained of blood and flesh, who wanders alone in a waste.

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