THE DOOM OF UNDAL, part of the Dragon Court Series, by Katrina Sisowath.
Available from 5 Prince Publishing www.5princebooks.com firstname.lastname@example.org
Genre: Fiction, Fairy Tales, Folk Tales, Legends & Mythology, Fantasy, Historical
Release Date: April 2, 2015
Digital ISBN-13; 978-1-63112-106-7 ISBN 10:1631121065
Print ISBN- 13; 978-1-63112-107-4 ISBN:10 :1631121073
Purchase link : http://www.5princebooks.com/buy-links.html
The Doom of Undal
The Dragon Court has ruled Tiamut uncontested for millennia, bringing knowledge and prosperity to all.
Yet all is not as it seems---far to the West in the land of Undal, mightiest of the nations, the Royal Queen and her children are struck with a mysterious illness and perish. Was the Dragon Court responsible? Or had the Queen had been experimenting with dark magic?
Her grieving son, trained in the dark arts by the goddess Eris herself, swears vengeance. When he defies the Dragon Court and they rescind their blessing on his royal house, he must turn to his mother's experiments and ancient blood rituals to achieve his aims. In his quest for truth he will become the greatest threat Tiamut has ever known.
With details pulled directly from Plato (yes, THAT Plato), The Emerald Tablets of Thoth, Sumerian and Egyptian mythology, The Doom of Undal tells the story of the Fall of Atlantis.
About Katrina Sisowath
Katrina Sisowath ,née Little, (1979--) was born in Frankfurt, Germany to an English father and American mother. Her formative years were spent in South-East Asia before returning to England to finish her studies. Deciding to follow in her father's footsteps, she enrolled in a University in China hoping to become a Mandarin-English translator. Visiting her father in 1999 who was living in Cambodia resulted in her meeting her future husband, settling down and opening a preschool. The couple have since chosen to return to England for their daughters' education.
On a personal level, Katrina is an avid book reader and loves mythology, history (preferably together), ancient civilizations and anything to do with occult ideologies and practices. Mages, Serpent Priestesses and the 'real' Gods, aka the ANNUNAKI(the prototypes for those we know today in the form of Greek, Roman, Indian and even the Biblical characters) are all addressed on her website www.katrinasisowath.com, with, of course, descriptions of Dragons, consciousness altering drinks and powders and what the scarlet clad priestesses really got up to in their sacred chamber
Her first book ‘Serpent Priestess of the Annunaki’ was released by 5 Prince Publishing on June 19, 2014 and quickly became an Amazon Bestseller. The Doom of Undal pt 1 is the second book in the Dragon Court series
How to reach Katrina Sisowath
Facebook: The Annunaki and the Dragon Court
Excerpt of The Doom of Undal
“Shhh” said a childish voice in a faint whisper, “It’s time to wake up.”
The sleeping figure emitted a strangled gasp as it re-entered the world of the living, jerking its head to the side to wriggle out of the grip of the hand currently clamped over its mouth and nose. After a sharp inhalation followed by a long exhalation, the now wide awake body sat up to reveal a child, looking very much like the one standing by the bed.
“Rhea, what were you thinking? You know I hate it when you do that.” said the child in a hiss, her curls bouncing in rhythm to each syllable uttered, as if in agreement with her statement.
“Sorry, but you said to wake you up if Great-Great-Grandma passed by, and she has, with that strange old man Sobekh says is our Great-Great-Great Uncle,” Rhea rejoined, her eyes firmly fixed on the floor, looking very much the penitent.
Just then their older sister whispered from the doorway, “Will you two hurry up? We’re going to lose them.”
With that, the two younger sisters scrambled as quickly as they dared on bare feet, hoping their great-great-grandma’s notorious sense of hearing had not detected them.
The three girls were princesses of the Royal Dragon Court of Magan: Sobekh-Nefru was the eldest at eleven, and so the future Queen, ruling Magan alongside their brother Chifu. Hathor was eight and Rhea, the baby of the family, five. The three were blessed with full heads of dark curls that glinted red in the sunlight, eyes as green as emeralds and skin the colour of prized cedar wood. They were intelligent, curious and vivacious, with tempers that flared if provoked and subsided just as quickly. They questioned everyone and everything, which was a source of stress to their tutors and nurses, but were defended by their venerable ancestress, who was very ancient indeed, having outlived her own grandchildren. No one had quite explained why she was so old, or how she had lived so long yet appeared younger than her own parents, but she was the only one to whom the three sisters, for reasons unknown even to them, were always respectful and obedient.
And now they were trailing after her through the darkened hallways and grand rooms of the Royal Palace, stalking her as though they were lions hunting their prey. To an alert guard, they would have appeared as shadowy figures, emerging for the briefest of instants under the flickering light cast by the torches set at intervals, only to meld back into the darkness. But, such an alert soul, if he had seen the phantom figures, would have raised no alarm, figuring the venerable old matriarch would deal better with them than the captain of the guards.
So they passed, starting and stopping with equal force, until they saw the two figures pause at a wall at the end of a hallway which suddenly began to slide back, revealing an even darker hallway. The man coughed, struck the end of his staff on the floor and the top began to glow. The venerated couple proceeded to move into the hidden passage.
Rhea began whimpering, “I don’t want to go anymore, I want to go back to bed.”
“Come on, we’re almost there, don’t be such a baby,” said Hathor, in a voice harsher than intended, covering her own fear at the unexpected development.
“You two go back to bed and wait for me, I’ll go on and see where they are going,” Sobekh valiantly volunteered, not wanting to pass this opportunity to see what lay inside, but also considering two frightened girls as being more of a hindrance than help, not to mention increasing the chance of discovery.
The two little ones did not need to wait any longer; they turned and ran as fast as their little legs could carry them, the pitter-patter of their feet echoing in the empty rooms and passageways. The guard smiled to himself hearing the familiar echoes, this particular ritual having been enacted since Princess Sobekh was seven years old, her sisters having joined her but recently.
Sobekh calmed her nerves and stepped into the darkened chamber just as the wall began to slide back. This was the first time she had seen the wall move, having always followed Great-Great-Grandma Kispu Saran at too great a distance, which meant that she had inexplicably vanished every time Sobekh had turned the corner—until now.
She followed the vanishing glow of the staff, holding her hands out to each side to prevent herself from stumbling. The walls and the floor were smooth and cool to the touch. She surmised it had been dug out of stone but it was without so much as an indent or raised bump to disfigure it. The level of craftsmanship was apparent even without the use of her sight. Her love of beauty and perfection overriding her concern about her safety, she let out a sigh. At that, the glow stopped flickering and became a steady light, the two ahead having stopped. Sobekh held her breath, fearing discovery, but after a moment they began to move again.
Eventually she realised she was on a gentle downward slope, the pressure increasing around her and the heat intensifying. She wondered where it led to and why her relatives were there. As she moved along, she tried in vain to feel for a shaft that led away from the passageway in hopes of finding an air current or escape route, but there were none.
The passage came to a sudden end; opening up to an octagonal room with cubicles carved into each side in the rock itself. The glow was gone but there was enough light from crystals embedded in the roof of the chamber that cast an eerily beautiful glow, like that of moonlight, throughout the room. Each cubicle contained an object that appeared to be made of gold; the floor was comprised of black and white tiles laid in a cross grid pattern and in the centre of the chamber there lay an altar, made of a single block of pink stone. Further examination revealed the tiles to be made of onyx and quartz, while the altar was of moonstone, the same stone that had been fashioned along with lapis lazuli into her crown.
She walked slowly around, perceiving there was no one in the chamber with her: the objects were beautiful, but of the same sort used in religious ceremonies she’d known all her life. Why it was hidden in this subterranean room was beyond her comprehension, after all the risk and discomfort she’d gone through and the fatigue she’d suffer through her lesson this day, it was a disappointment to find nothing more salacious than a chalice, Athame, shuhadaku and paten. Belatedly she recalled the two she was following and looked about to see where they might have disappeared to.
As she came to the far side from where she entered, she noticed a crack where two walls met, and pushing the one that seemed to lay ajar ever so slightly, found that it swung open, revealing a slope leading upwards. A stream of fresh air hit her as she stepped through, invigorating her, and lessening the weariness she felt as she began to climb. Upon reaching what appeared to be a landing, she saw two large rooms, one on either side. The one on the right was a vast library, while the one on the left a laboratory. Pausing to consider which room to look at first, she heard two voices further up the slope. Curiosity regarding her relatives overcame her love of scrolls and so she pressed on. The light changed as she walked, the first hint that dawn had arrived.
She came to a large room with two windows at the far end cut in a peculiar shape. Shading her eyes against the sudden influx of light she failed to notice the two figures directly in front of her.
“Where have you been? We were just about to come look for you,” said Kispu Saran, with a vague hint of a smile playing at her mouth.
“You knew?” Sobekh managed to stammer after a quick glance at both to determine in what manner of trouble she was, and how she might escape.
“It never fails to amuse me, this certainty of each generation, that they are the only ones capable of such subterfuge and night-time escapades,” said the man.
“Sobekh, this is my brother Magi Ningi, your uncle so many generations ago, even I have lost count” Kispu Saran said, a hint of formality alerting Sobekh to be on her best behaviour.
“Greetings, most illustrious one,” Sobekh bowed
“Come child, it is wonderful to see you again, when last I saw you, you were but a babe in your mother’s arms. We have so much to talk about,” Magi Ningi said with a welcoming smile, kissing her on both cheeks and once on the forehead, as was customary amongst their family.
Sobekh looked around, her relief at the apparent reprieve restoring her usual audacity and at last she was compelled to ask, “Where are we?”
“Ahh, come and look,” replied Magi Ningi, bringing her to a window. Looking out she beheld the mighty Nile flowing past, but could not determine which building they were in, or whether they were in front of, behind, or to the side of the Royal Palace.
“I can’t tell what this building is, are we in a pyramid?” Sobekh finally admitted, hazarding a guess.
“We are in the secret depository of our sacred texts and my final resting place” Kispu Saran said, shuffling over, “We are in the western Statue of Sirius, and the Three Pyramids are over there. The palace is to the northeast, upriver.”
“Why is it secret? I saw only our normal temple objects below.”
“Because my dear, we have experienced much in our lifetimes that you will learn about now you are of age. What humanity perceives as change, growth, strange or new, we who have lived through many ages know to be cycles. In these cycles there is much to gain and much to lose. With power comes threat and there are many who seek to take from us what we have. My brother and I will not be around forever and so to protect our legacy we have stored these objects and texts here. That way, if Magan is overrun by enemies and the Temples destroyed, this will still be here.”
“Why are you telling me?”
“As the future Queen, it is your job to protect your people, your country and your lineage. These ceremonies and objects are the heart of who we are and you must remember to protect them always.”
With that, they slowly began to move back down the tunnel pausing only to allow Magi Ningi to walk into his laboratory and gather a scroll before rejoining them on their descent.
When they reached the chamber, Sobekh allowed herself to look more thoroughly at the beauty of the room. The crystals now flickered softly with a hint of rose, as at dusk. It was peaceful in its majesty rather than intimidating as the Temples of Youth and Life were.
A quiet movement woke her from her reverie; the altar slid to one side, a darkened crypt gradually revealing itself. Sobekh stared in fascination as a serpent slithered out and began to glide up Kispu Saran’s legs, to her torso before settling around her shoulders. Kispu Saran whispered something in a language Sobekh vaguely recognised but could not comprehend. The serpent began to slither again, Kispu Saran extending her arm towards Sobekh until their hands touched allowing the serpent to wind its way up Sobekh’s arms. Sobekh hesitated for a brief moment, before relaxing under the calming influence of the two elders. Magi Ningi held up a jar of alabaster to the light as if inspecting it for flaws, then, seemingly satisfied, offered it to Sobekh to look at, motioning with his hands to open the lid. As she did so, a puff of smoke blew into her face and her world went dark. She fell back as the figures of her ancestors receded as though through a tunnel.
Thus it was she did not feel the bite as the serpent sank its fangs into her neck, or the two pairs of hands catching her as she swooned, gently laying her to rest in the soft plush bed in the crypt, or see the altar close back overhead.