Aquila et Noctua a historical novel - New Release

By P. J. Mann

There is a new release on Mann's house, and that doesn't just mean that I have written a new novel, but I have also experimented something new, a historical fiction.

Aquila et Noctua (The Eagle and the Owl) comes from a story I wrote many years ago and brings me back to one of my loves in life: History, and particularly the history of Ancient Rome. 

The story tells about a young slave, Saul, coming from Jerusalem, and the complicated relationship he will develop with his masters and with the other slaves, who will become a sort of surrogate family; the one he lost once he was enslaved.

Once again, like in my debut novel "A Tale of a Rough Diamond," we have the themes of envy, jealousy, conflictual relationships within the family, and wisdom.

Wisdom is depicted in this case like the Noctua (Owl), and like in nature happens, the owl is going to bring wisdom, with sudden chaos.

The Aquila, (Eagle) represents the Roman Empire and the family who will purchase Saul. 

There is going to be a Release party on my Facebook page: 

https://www.facebook.com/events/2225782511045126/

It is scheduled for Sunday 1.9  at 10:00 AM EDT and there will be other authors to help me celebrate the release. If you have more questions about this new release this is the right time to have them answered.

EXCERPT:

​The sun shone brightly in the sky on that late summer day. The successful campaign in the territories of Palestine brought new glory to the Empire and filled every corner of the city with celebrations.
The massive military action, planned by Emperor Hadrian, had brought about the final defeat of the rebellious Jews in the third Jewish revolt.
Jerusalem was renamed Aelia Capitolina in honor of the victorious emperor and as an ultimate humiliation to the rebels. The prisoners were sent all over the Empire to be sold as slaves while the Roman generals and commanders were decorated in the public square of the Forum.
It was a joyful period throughout all of Rome, and it should have been no exception for Marcus Tiberius Numida. However, something weighed heavily on his mind and alienated his soul from the revelry.
He wandered through the streets of Rome, not paying attention to where he was going until he found himself in the slave market in the Forum.
Several specimens of males and females, crammed into cages, peered from between the bars, waiting to be yanked out and pushed to line up behind the merchant. Their eyes revealed fear and confusion
Each merchant touted the good properties of each slave they were selling, wildly gesticulating to underline their words to attract customers, as crowds of curious people and potential buyers gathered around.
The sobs of the waiting slaves and the clang of their chains against the bars, combined with the din of the curious onlookers and the raucous voices of the merchants. The stench of bodily fluids melded with the scent of food that was sold in the square.

To pre-order the novel, please follow this link:

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07VXB2QFR

Author link: https://pjmann2016.wixsite.com/pjmann

Other books: https://pjmann2016.wixsite.com/pjmann/books

I hope I have attracted your attention and see you soon at the release party!

Stay tuned!

Cursed Bloodline by Erika M Szabo

Romantic historical suspense 

by Erika M Szabo

https://www.authorerikamszabo.com/the-curse.html

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I recently changed the cover because readers suggested that the story is a bit darker than the cover indicates it. Judge it for yourself. Scroll through the book presentation below, read excerpts from the book and find links.

Cursed Bloodline: Secrets and Lies

Cursed Bloodline

Romantic suspense with historical elements

By Erika M Szabo

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Is it possible that an ancient curse cast by a powerful witch sixteen-hundred years ago could destroy families in every generation for centuries?

Dark family secrets separated Sofia and Daniel when they were children, but fate brought them together years later.

When Sofia’s brother finds a leather book in his grandmother's secret room that was written in 426 by a shaman, dark memories of their childhood start to surface.

Reading the ancient runes, they learn about their family's curse. If it remains unbroken, the curse will bring tragedy and ruin their lives as it destroyed many of their ancestors' lives. Could they find the way to break the ancient curse?

“This is the curse of an evil deed that incites and must bring forth more evil.” ~Johann Friedrich Von

Prologue

Present day

“Wow!” Sofia blurted as they entered the secret room. “You were right, there are lots of treasures in here.”

“I looked only in this trunk but look at the shelves.”

Sofia walked to the shelves and touched the carved, wooden and stone statues one by one. “Look,” she said, “the Sacred Turul. This wood carving is a masterpiece!”

“Yes, I estimate it to be at least a thousand years old. Look at this horse.” He pointed at the black onyx statue.

“Magnificent!” Sofia marveled.

“We can look at those later,” Jayden mentioned to Sofia. “Let’s see if we can find more writing in the trunk.”

“Okay…” Sofia hesitantly replied. She was having a hard time averting her eyes from rows after rows of statues, jewelry, headdresses adorned with beads, gold chalices and bowls.

Jayden opened the wooden trunk and started taking out the items that were wrapped in leather. He pulled the coverings open which revealed swords, knives, handmade leather shoes, and carefully-wrapped scrolls.

“Jay, look!” Sofia pointed at the inside of the trunk lid. “There’s an envelope and it doesn’t seem old.”

Jayden grabbed the corner of the white envelope but couldn’t pull it away. “It seems to be glued to the top,” he stated as he carefully lifted the corner with a knife and pried it away from the wood without ripping the paper.

As he turned it he saw writing on the envelope. “For Sofia and Jayden,” he read out loud. “It’s Grandma’s handwriting and it’s for us.” He sat down on a box, opened the envelope and pulled out the folded letter. He started reading it out loud.

Dearest Sofia and Jayden,

You’re reading this letter, which means I’m gone. I swore to your mother that I would never tell you about the family curse, but I cannot take it to my grave. Although your mother always strongly believed that it is merely a stupid legend and refused to listen to me, I must let you know somehow. Jayden, your life in danger…

The year 426 in the Carpathian Basin

As they got close to the trees and peeked out, they saw disheveled men sitting on the ground around fires. Their savage laughs, as they were eating and drinking, cut through to their hearts. Elana gasped when she saw the lifeless bodies of her neighbors thrown to the ground. Zala turned to Elana and raised his eyebrow, silently asking if she was ready. Her eyes shone with anger. She nodded and placed an arrow on her bow and pulled the string, aiming at the head of the loudest bandit who seemed to be the horde’s leader.

Zala whispered, “You have lost the most. You have the right to revenge.”

Elana let the arrow fly, and it pierced the bandit’s forehead between his eyes, coming out at the back of his head halfway. His body fell backward, limp and lifeless.

Zala looked at the waiting wolves and motioned them to go forward. The bandits scrambled to their feet in horror as their leader fell, and the wolves attacked them. Zala and Elana started riding around them in circles, aiming and shooting as the men tried to flee. A few slumped to the ground pierced by arrows, others screamed as the wolves chomped at their hands.

Elana spotted the alpha as he clamped his powerful jaw over a man’s wrist and with a jerk of his head, bit the hand off. And then Elana froze when she saw her mirror image looking at her with crazed eyes.

“Tuana!” Elana yelled and urged her horse toward the disheveled young woman.

Tuana turned her horse and kicked its side, urging the horse to a gallop. Within seconds they collided. The horses neighed in terror as the women were thrown off their backs by the impact. Both women jumped to their feet and faced each other. Elana gave out the warriors’ battle cry, raised her sword, and thrust it toward Tuana. Elana’s move was swift, but Tuana was fast as well and leaned out of the way of the deadly blow. As Tuana jumped back, she looked down with terror in her eyes. A gray wolf standing next to her growled and dropped Tuana’s hand on the ground; it was still clutching the sword. The wolf shook the blood from his muzzle, turned, and ran toward the bushes. Tuana stared at her stump as it spurted blood on her legs.

Tuana howled like a wounded animal and then gave out an insane laugh as she held the stump of her arm close to her chest and started backing away. “I curse you and your descendants! Every woman in your bloodline will have a daughter like me who will be thrown away like garbage. The daughters will kill their brothers and leave their sister alive to carry the bloodline. All mothers for eternity will pay for what your mother did to me.” 

Do Authors Need a Portfolio?

The portfolio of author Erika M Szabo

https://joom.ag/92ca

Just like every author, I introduce my books on my WEBSITE and on social sites such as FACEBOOK TWITTER and LINKEDIN.

Is it enough? My website is organized and readers can find every book with a click.

But on social sites, which most author is focusing on, the reader have to sift through  a lot of posts.

So, I decided to create a condensed, online book that contains the highlights of what I create and what I write.

You can find my portfolio on this link: https://joom.ag/92ca

Hope you will enjoy it!

A few pages from my portfolio:

https://joom.ag/92ca

Cursed Bloodline by Erika M Szabo

They look alike, but one of them is broken on the inside

 

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Writers can get inspiration anywhere, and any time.

The idea to write this novella came to me when I found an old letter from grandma in my drawer where I keep precious holiday cards and letters. I saved that yellowed letter because I loved her neat handwriting.

It doesn't take much to trigger a writer's imagination, so I started thinking. What if... what if this letter was written by an ancestor who lived hundreds of years ago? What if it would contain information that could save someone in the present? From that moment, the story started to form in my mind.

I imagined Sofia as a med student who is planning to spend the summer in Hungary with her brother who is an archeologist. On the flight she meets a man who turns out to be her puppy love from long time ago.

Jayden finds a leather book in his grandmother's secret room that was written in 426 by a shaman. Sofia can read the ancient runes, and they learn about their family's curse. If it remains unbroken, the curse will bring tragedy and ruin their lives as it destroyed many of their ancestors' lives for centuries.

Can they find the way to break the curse? Could Sofia find happiness with her long-lost friend?

When I had the rough outline of the story, the words started to pour, and I added a lot more secrets, historical facts and legends as well as suspenseful moments to keep the readers at the edge of their seats.

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A short excerpt:

Jayden hurried toward the parking garage, pulling Sofia’s luggage.

“Slow down, Jay,” Sofia cried out as she lagged behind with her carry-on bag. “I can’t keep up if you’re running like that.”

“Sorry.” Jayden looked back and slowed down, “I’m so eager to show you what I’ve found.”

“What is it?” Sofia tried to catch her breath.

“It’s kind of a book made of leather sheets sewn together. It’s written with ancient Hun runes. I think the letters were burned into the leather. I should’ve learned from Grandma to read it like you did.”

“That’s so exciting.” Sofia started walking faster. “Did you bring it with you?”

“Yes, it’s in the car, I thought you could start translating it on the ride home. Here is my car in this row.”

They reached the old Porsche that was their grandma’s car and Jayden packed Sofia’s luggage into the trunk. He reached into the back and pulled a duffel bag from the back seat. He opened the zipper and took out a package wrapped in old-looking leather sheets. When Jayden unwrapped it, inside she saw the book made of leather sheets sewn together.

Jayden handed it to Sofia and asked, “What do you think?”

She fingered the soft leather, “It’s old and still so pliable,” she mused. “Look, the Sacred Turul is burned into the cover.”

“May the sacred Turul protect you on your journey,” they chanted the ancient line that every Hun whispered when they saw a falcon, alive or in a picture. The spirit of the falcon called Turul in ancient Hun mythology is believed to be the protector of the Huns.

Sofia got into the passenger seat, opened the book and scanned the pages. Jayden started the engine and pulled out of the parking space. The traffic was heavy in the city, but soon they were driving northeast on the smooth highway.

“So, what do you think?” Jayden asked.

“Wow! Let me read it.” Sofia turned to the first page and started translating.

***

I am Zoan, the humble Shaman of the Roaring Falcon tribe. I’m going to write Elana’s story in detail with the hope that the descendants of Elana could read this and break the powerful curse. It happened on the third moon of the year, the events that led to Tuana’s curse. The day Elana was forced to leave her happy childhood behind and take the reality and responsibilities of adulthood.

***

Sofia lowered the book to her lap and turned to her brother, “Jay, could this be written so long ago?”

“I think so, or rather hope so. Please read on.”

Sofia lifted the book, and said, “I’m winging it here because I’m not familiar with this word átokja, but I think it is the old version of átok, which means curse. Also, there is another phrase— akarata erősségje. I think it means powerful.”

“Just do your best and you can do a more detailed translation later.”

“Okay, here it goes.”

***

Elana, unaware of her fate, gave her horse a gentle squeeze with her knees, to run faster. Willow zigzagged between the jurtas that were lined up in a semicircle, leaving a broad plaza in the middle. Elana glanced up at the tall wooden pole that stood in the center of the square. It had intricate designs carved into it and was painted with brilliant colors. On top of it was a giant carved falcon, standing with wings open wide, as if it was getting ready to take flight. Oh, I’m so late; my mother is going to kill me, she thought and prompted her horse to run faster. An old woman who was carrying firewood stopped and shook her head in disapproval. “These youngsters are riding like demons,” she mumbled, looking after Elana.

Elana reached her home. She slid off the mare’s back in a hurry and fastened the horse’s rein to a wooden pole. Her breaths came in short puffs, and her rosy cheeks glistened with perspiration. She patted the horse’s neck, gave her an armful of hay, and poured fresh water from a leather bag that hung on the pole into a clay bowl. She whispered, “I have to hurry, but I’ll be back soon, Willow, promise.”

She hurried up to the entrance of the tent-like building, called Jurta, with a few long strides. She parted her kaftan-like dark blue overcoat, pulled up her baggy trousers, and smoothed her tunic that her mother had adorned with delicate flower designs. Elana pulled the leather entrance cover aside with a heavy sigh, and she braced herself mentally for the long lecture that she knew she must endure.

As usual, she was late for her herbal lessons with her mother, a beautiful, statuesque, dark-haired woman who slowly rose from a curved sofa-like piece of furniture. Soft light coming from the opening at the ceiling shone on her green, delicately-decorated calf-length tunic that she wore with loose black trousers. Her hair was braided with thin leather thongs and hugged her shoulders.

Elana took off her boots and placed them by the entrance. She winced when Mara’s high-pitched, angry voice hit her like a whip. “You are late, again, young lady! Didn’t I tell you to be home by the time the sun reaches the head of the Falcon? Look!” she pointed at the pole through the door.

Elana quickly let the leather curtain slide back to cover the door, dutifully bowed, and whispered, “Yes, Mother. Sorry, Mother.”

She always wanted to please her mother, she really did, but she could rarely live up to her expectations. Luckily, Mara’s anger and lectures were as brief as summer storms, so Elana obediently stood by the entrance and lowered her eyelids to hide the playful twinkle in her eyes. Her long, black hair, which was braided in thin rows, slid off her shoulders as she bowed her head, and she adjusted her delicately-woven horsetail headband that kept the stray hairs out of her face. Elana took a hesitant step forward on the thick, wool carpet that covered the dirt floor of the Jurta.

“Where were you?”

“We were… I was… I got some herbs, too. Look!” Elana hoped that she could divert her mother’s attention, so she quickly opened the leather pouch that contained some flowers that she had collected. Lying wasn’t in her nature but concealing the truth a little by trailing the conversation away from the sensitive subject was widely used in her tribe, especially by teenagers.

 

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