Grant R Salo's Site

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Welcome to my site!

I enjoy writing, shaping, and sculpting virtual worlds in which fiction characters can converse and plots can

 be developed. I have written three books so far. Two have been published and are available for purchase

at www.Lulu.com.

My first set of books are a duology (A group of two books) It is comprised of The Ice Shard, and The Omen of

 The Living. The Ice Shard is avaiable in hardcover for $24.00 and The Omen of The Living is available

 in paperback for the small sum of $12.12. The Omen of The Living is available for FREE

http://www.lulu.com/content/2278695

by Simply typing this into your adress bar. Then click the Free download option.

These two books are 157 pages and 156 pages, respectively.

Coming soon! on October the 20th, The Crimson Wrath will be available. It will be FREE to

download and can be acessed via typing in the address bar, www.lulu.com, and searching The Crimson

Wrath.

 The Crimson Wrath had taken me longer to write than both The Omen of the Living and The Ice Shard

 combined, it is packed with mind-boggling twists and action, and is an adventure that will satisfy anyone. It

 will be exactly 393 pages upon publication. 

Atop is an image of The Omen of The Living! Enjoy! And don't forget to sample the Free downloads!

Below is a short video advertising my books as well as an excerpt from the upcoming book: The Crimson

Wrath!

Prologue

The sky flashes with lightning. The scorching bolts of light dance through the sky in ecstatic patterns. The night carries the aroma of burnt wood; humidity evident in the air. A massive castle looms directly in front of a small forest. The stones flashing brilliantly with every crack of thunder that rents the air. The turrets soaring upwards end abruptly in a jagged style. A massive castle is almost complete, bricks lie scattered in large piles,  prepared for the construction that would be resumed tomorrow. Small shrewd creatures with pale skin mill about, testing the strength of the pulleys, and the other pieces of equipment.

In the shadowy wood crouches a vast army of humans. The resistance. The last stand to bring down the mysterious race that was murdering unimaginable numbers of humans. A commander, clothed in a long flowing black tunic, glares defiantly at the castle with an intense look of hatred. In his large hands rests a long heavy sword, emblazed with a fist. The golden hilt blares with brightness with every flash of lightning. Loud cracks split the air overhead. The commander nods, signaling  the army to prepare their weapons. Then the commander whistles. A shrill, piercing noise. All through the forest echoes the sharp snapping noise of bows being drawn and fired. The commander bows his head slightly as a cloud of arrows whistle by. The black feathered death delivering missiles hone in on their targets. The arrows impale various workers, who sink to the ground. Strange rustling noises and gasps occur behind the commander in his army, but he is too caught up watching the last of the arrows pepper the almost complete castle. Now all the workers on the south facing side lay dead, their bodies filled with arrows protruding from their ruptured skin.

The commander shouts a brief cry of victory, nodding his head once more for his archers to shoot another volley of arrows. He still faces the south wall oblivious to what had occurred behind his triumphant back. The commander nods his head once more, whistling again. But no shots are fired. Then a sharp pain explodes in his back and he feels his legs buckle. He feels wet blood trickle down his spine. What had happened? he thought, his heart beat quickening. Then another sharp pain explodes with prodigious pain. He collapses, his cheek touching the moist ground. The commander spins his head around. Vampires climb out of the trees. Their pale white faces are stained heavily with blood.

“NO!” roars the commander. Every man in his army lay dead, blood gushing from untreatable wounds.

“YES!” laughs the vampire who had stabbed the commander. The blue icy eyes stare penetratingly into the commander’s, “Prepare to never see the light of day again!”

Then with bone- crushing force the vampire kicks the commander’s head. A loud crack sounds, the commander’s head shifts to an impossible angle, the neck bones sticking gruesomely out of his skin. Then everything fades to blackness. The thunder grows mute, the lightning fades and life transitions to death.

Olas Drahcir Tnarg

“Bring me my supper, Olas Drahcir Tnarg,” ordered Lord blood, chewing thoughtfully on his long black nails. The nails were easily several inches long and were mildly curved at the tip. They would give anyone an incentive to flee, or cower in fear. Seven pale fingers, abnormally long and thin with four joints crept from his hand that was carefully draped by his sleeve. His face was covered in a metal mask that hid a petrifying truth. It was a truth that he couldn’t bear to reveal for it meant his utter destruction. He was easily ten feet in length but looked about half that as he sat, half-curled upon a luxurious mound. The walls were a deep red, with a single window shattering the monotonous atmosphere. Rain trickled drearily down its pane, and it was this window Lord Blood gazed through, as if in a trance.

Olas Drahcir Tnarg opened a thick metal door at the far end of the room infringed with designs and entered, carrying a thick metal tray with an enormous glistening creature atop. It was a bizarre creature that would make observers blink in hesitation. It possessed four limbs which was normal but it had weird luminous eyes that still glowed dimly in the dark candle-lit room. Lord Blood beckoned for Olas Drahcir Tnarg to place the delicious meal atop a flat area on the large mound. He obeyed, unquestionably, pausing in thought, “Lord Blood? Are you truly a vampir-?” the statement rolling out of the servants mouth before he could halt its progress. Lord Blood’s gaze began to glow, until it was as if fire crackled in his eyes, “I’m not obliged to answer such a uncouth and venomous question, and you, descendant of Rabanar are prohibited from asking me them. Now go fetch me my drink!”

The slave seemed to shrink as his shoulders hunched and he darted away like a frightened rabbit. The door shut firmly and now only the merry crackling of candles could be heard and the servants fading footsteps. 

The Red Card

I shuffled the deck, taking care to mix the cards effectively. I glanced upwards at my opponent. My hand rested on the smooth, glazed, richly carved table, its surface reflecting the oil lamps that hiss hungrily, lighting the room in a dim fashion. People sat around various tables, like ours, playing assorted games. Behind us two elderly men were playing a game of chess. The younger  of the two had his hand rested against his forehead in thought. Everyone’s faces were half-lit, so they appeared like a moon at half crescent. This was the Green Frog Inn. A cozy, small inn with food and drink. The ground below my feet was hard-packed earth. It was common in most buildings because it was the cheapest of all flooring types.

My opponent, my older brother, grimaced in impatience, “Fred, can you hurry up there?” he muttered impatiently, his eyes drifting about the room in boredom. I smiled, positioning the deck in the center of the table, “I’m ready!’ I declared, deftly dealing my brother and myself several cards. We were playing a casual game of blackjack. I lifted up my cards, smiling slightly as I saw three of them were aces. Then a look of puzzlement flashed across my face as my eyes rested on a peculiar red card. At the bottom was a hastily scribbled message:

“Dear Drazen, meet me upstairs in this inn. The plan has been set and I require your knowledge for the last little tweak. Then our lord shall have this city.”

I gasped, my brother’s eyes narrowing, “What is it?” he inquired, “Good cards? You’re really not supposed to tell me you know…” he trailed off.

I plucked the card gingerly from my deck, flicking it across the table. My brother’s eyes widened as he examined the card intently, then horror flashed across his face, quickly replaced by a mildly surprised expression, “Probably nothing,” mumbled Cedric, tucking in into his front jacket pocket.

“Shouldn’t we do something? Like find this Drazen person?” I asked, surveying him for a reply.

“Nay, I doubt its anything serious, probably just a message some group of kids were using to place a game,” he replied. He quickly shifted the subject, handing me another card from the deck, placing down a king.

“Ten, ten, ace,” I exclaimed victoriously as I lie down two tens and an ace. My brother growled in rage, and I smiled, tormenting him further, regrettably he passed me the several pence we had been playing for. Pennies were worth a lot in our time.

Just then, a well-dressed waiter walked by, pausing at our table, “Would you like anything?’ he asked.

“No thanks.” I replied curtly.

Just then the waiter caught sight of the red card, snatching it quickly in a motion that aroused suspicion.

“What?” I asked enraged, my voice not the only one protesting. Me eyes flashed with annoyance as I glared at the waiter. My brother and I rose from the table but already the waitress had left. I picked up the waiter’s hat that had fallen off as he fled. In orange neon letters the name, Drazen, was written.