Dominion Rising Bonus Swag

by Gwynn White

  Dominion Rising

  Extra Content

  DOMINION RISING EXTRA CONTENT is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people, place, or event is purely coincidental and not the intention of this collection.

  No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system without the proper written permission of the appropriate copyright holder listed below, unless such copying is expressly permitted by federal and international copyright law. Permission must be obtained from the individual copyright owners identified herein.

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  DOMINION RISING EXTRA CONTENT copyright © 2017 by 4xOverland Ltd

  All Stories are used with the permission of the individual authors.

  Contents

  Timothy C. Ward

  Sister Take Me

  JC Andrijeski

  Bonus Material - NEW YORK

  S.M. Schmitz and Lisa Blackwood

  Dating Sucks…especially if you’re an AI.

  Rebecca Rode

  4 months before Flicker

  S.M. Blooding and P.K. Tyler

  The Engagement of Dothylian Solvei and Wilmer Zervek

  Melanie Karsak

  Dirty Deeds & Bloody Knaves

  Tony Bertauski

  The Maze

  Anthea Sharp

  Passage Out

  Daniel Arthur Smith

  Spectral Shift Deleted Scene

  Marilyn Peake

  Artwork and Coloring Pages for The Other

  Cheri Lasota

  Character Interview - Petra Valerii

  KJ Colt

  Maps from Death Plague

  Logan T. Snyder

  A Brief History Of The Nothnocti Wars

  Gwynn White and Erin St Pierre

  Reign of Steel and Bone

  Becca Andre

  The Ferromancer’s Bane

  Margo Bond Collins

  Rift Cursed Coloring Page

  A bonus tie-in with Infinite Waste by Dean F. Wilson

  Interview with Skip Sutridge

  Transcriptionist: Ann Christy

  Official Transcription: Girard, Guardian for the Northeast Council

  Ella Summers

  Wicked Witchcraft

  Felix R. Savage

  The Disenthroned (Sneak Peek)

  Erin Hayes

  Future Corporation Name Generator

  Sister Take Me

  Timothy C. Ward

  A scratch down Verily’s leg woke her to the stale sea-water smell of her little sister sneaking into her bed.

  K tugged a sheet loose from Verily’s grip. “Come on, V. Scoot over.”

  Verily rubbed the burn on her leg as she blocked K’s elbow from jabbing her in her face. Her back rested against the cool wall. “K, when its daylight, I’m cutting those toenails.”

  “Okay,” K said, dragging it out as if to make Verily sorry for intruding on her plans not to be groomed. “V, I heard the wolf again. I think tonight’s the night.”

  Verily rubbed the hardened gunk in her eye. Her head throbbed. It had to be the middle of the night, and this made three nights in a row K had woken her up with talk of the wolf. Verily had yet to hear its howl, and figured it to be a remnant of the three-year-old’s dreams; her own hadn’t been that pleasant of late either. “You’re safe inside, K.” She’d learned her lesson from spending the last few nights trying to tell the girl there was no wolf. There was no way she was going outside to prove it, so she’d changed tactics and told her wolves can’t open doors.

  “But what if it breaks in the window?”

  Another remnant of their adventures along the shore. The bottom floor of the lighthouse had a couple broken windows, which had fascinated K. Her “Why?” questions had lasted half a day. “Wolves don’t break windows. That’s never happened.” Okay, so Verily didn’t know that for sure, but playing it soft had let the questions go on for too long the last few nights. She straightened one of the blankets to fit over her shoulders and tucked in. “Please go to sleep.”

  K nestled herself against Verily’s arm until she allowed her little sister under the blanket and cuddled her close. “Good night, K.”

  “I love you, V.”

  As easily as butter over a flame, her words melted Verily’s frustration away. Her anger at their father for sailing off to be with that other lady had shortened Verily’s nerves, but moments like these, with her sister’s love close enough to warm her in the cool nights, were something to be happy about, no matter who betrayed them in the daylight, or the haunting past.

  Her sister’s gentle snore eased Verily’s mind, and she relaxed and returned to sleep. Remnants of her interrupted dream came to mind: a dock, the lapping waves crashing against the exposed support beams… a two-seater rowboat bobbed against its rope tie. Was it eight days in a row she’d had this dream now? She had no idea where it came from. She’d never seen that boat, but knew the dock well—it was the nearest to their house. But it was also one she avoided because one couldn’t swim there. Sharks ate from the reef nearby.

  The dream played on. A man who wasn’t her father smiled down at her; she was little more than waist height against him. She sensed his hand turning open to accept hers, and then his soft palm squeezed her hand, transferring a calm assurance akin to her mother’s hugs.

  “We have great plans for you, Verily.”

  His words sent a tingle through her, and she wondered how he knew her name. Who’s “we”?

  He started walking, and she let him guide her. Their footsteps creaked on the wooden dock. His gaze was directed toward the end, and hers fell to the boat, then to the waters beyond, in search of an exposed dorsal fin. She could find none, though that meant little either way. By the time they reached the pole with the rope tie, the weight of what she had to do made it hard to breathe. She looked up to confirm—to plead for release—but the man was gone.

  “Do not be afraid. He guides the chosen as surely as He forms the waves.”

  Verily knew of Whom the gentle man spoke. Mother spoke of the Father of the Ancients, the One Who’d brought the Rucien here, from a planet galaxies away, to save them from a violent people. His plan and love had not left the Rucien, His people, in the thousands of years that had passed since they were whisked away in a bubble to Vijil. The idea was beyond Verily’s seven-year-old comprehension, but on the surface still offered comfort in the times when bad things made her feel like the ground was turning to sand before the ocean would swallow her up.

  Verily opened her eyes. Her sight had adjusted to the dark well enough for her to see her hand shaking in the moonlight filtering through her window curtain. The weight of the waking dream had not left with its passing. Against the comfort of staying in her warm bed was a command as strong as her mother’s. She didn’t want to wake her sister, but even if she did get out without setting K off with her claims of the wolf, what would she do then? Get on a boat by herself in the middle of the night? Where would she go? Not in those waters.

  “Do not be afraid,” the man had said, with a strange power infused in his command. “…He guides the chosen as surely as He forms the waves.”

  Verily’s continued resistance to the call awoke a fear like the kind elicited by her mother’s angry stare. Obedience gradually overruled logic and excuses until she was carefully peeling her arm out from under K, then clim
bing over her slumbering body with the grace of a daddy longlegs.

  On the other side of the short hall outside her room was her mother’s closed door. Inside lay comfort and reason, which would likely tell her it was just a dream, and to go back to bed. She’d probably be upset at Verily for waking her, and warn that Verily had to wake up early to fish so that she could try and sell enough netting to patch the leak in their boat.

  On the other side of that door, though, was disobedience to the call. The power behind it superseded her mother’s.

  Verily turned and her feet followed the reverence in her heart, not loving her mother any less, but with respect for someone greater—someone you never disobeyed.

  She took her olive button pea coat, her rain hat, and her rubber boots from the closet by the exterior door. Her hand rose to unlock the chain on the exterior door as a faint howl, which could have been wind or… no, that was wind.

  She’d come too far to stop now, and thoughts of a wolf paled in comparison to the force that drove her. She unhooked the chain and carefully pushed the door outward. The hinges whined from too little oil but, she hoped, not enough to wake her mother. She stepped through the opening as soon as it was wide enough to fit her thin frame.

  She kept her boots and hat in her hand as her bare toes landed in the cool sand, enjoying one of her favorite aspects of beach life. She padded across the soft sand west toward the dock, hear heart pounding like a beat drum.

  * * *

  The dock was on the other side of a short, rocky peninsula, the smooth rock forming hills high enough to block her view of it. She had no way of confirming if the mysterious boat from her dream was really tied to the dock without going there. Anxiety fueled her on to jog. If the boat wasn’t there, her fears would wash away as those of a foolish child letting her dreams hold more sway than they should.

  But if it is there….

  She picked up her pace, eager to prove wrong her growing suspicion that the boat would be there.

  She climbed the rocks with long strides until she spotted the dock. Her stomach dropped. A red-painted boat bobbed on the water.

  Just like in her dream.

  Her legs lost the strength to hold her up and she fell, only just catching her fall with a palm on the rock. She stared at the rowboat as it rocked gently on the waves, barely able to breathe as the weight of the moon seemed to rest on her back. A tremor rose from her chest in the beginnings of a sob that she only just halted.

  Unable to form any coherent thought, she focused on breathing instead. The boat refused to go away. Mesmerized, she crossed over the flattened boulders to the dock, then held onto the pole as she lowered a foot inside. She couldn’t help the niggling fear that it would disappear and dump her into the cold water.

  To her surprise, it didn’t disappear, but floated under her added weight. The rope tying it to the pole, and the paddle stashed on board, were equally real and sturdy. The wind gusted, dashing salt water on her face as she reached up to untie the rope.

  With the rope untied, she sank onto one of the seats in the boat and took up the paddle. She then used the end of the paddle to push away from the dock into the calm waters, trying not to think too much about the fact that she had no idea where she was going, and that she had followed a dream to get this far.

  This portion of the bay was known for its small waves and a strong undertow, so she reckoned she could get out into open waters… just don’t spring a leak on me, strange dream boat.

  Verily dug the paddle in with her first stroke, latching onto the idea of following the southwestern star of the Spear constellation. After a good twenty or so minutes of paddling away from shore, the spray had become a light rain. She set the paddle down to put on her rain hat and tie it under her chin. Glancing back at the peninsula over her left shoulder, she thought the closest shoreline was now a hundred meters away. She’d found a current, which made paddling easier, but turning around that much more difficult. And it was taking her toward the reef. She could already see where several dark gray rocks broke through the deep black water, which smacked and splashed the rocks, smothering them in froth. A swoosh pulled her gaze over the side of the boat, just in time to see the descending dorsal fin of an adult reef shark.

  To her horror, gathering darkness drew her attention to a long wave about fifty meters away and ten meters high that approached from the ocean-side on a converging path, rolling water into its ever-increasing size. The current was too strong for her to turn back or paddle straight to shore. She could try and paddle for the outer edge of the wave and pray its lip didn’t continue to rise and expand.

  The water hadn’t been as cold or dark as it was now. I’m gonna crash. Why did you bring me out here?

  The boat rose as the shark swished its tail alongside. Verily squeezed both sides of the boat, pinching her fingers between paddle and the edge.

  Two more sharks swam after the first, not as big, but with heads still large enough to swallow hers. She’d once seen a reef shark in a capture photo. Even in death, their rows of teeth haunted the softness of human skin. Verily’s heart beat so fast she feared it might fly away.

  The current drew her closer to the rising wave, and she realized that she could not out-paddle it.

  Three options flew through her frantic thoughts, her skin electric with fear. She could try to turn the boat one hundred eighty degrees and ride the coattails of the wave—as the crest rose, and its tail farther out, she dismissed that. No time. It’ll roll me over. It's climbing so fast.

  Of the two remaining, she considered paddling toward its mouth, dive out at the last second and swim for her life to get under. Already the wave was too large to have much hope of swimming through its undertow. I’ll be chum in these waters, even if I make it through, if I don’t have my boat.

  This left one idea: point her boat toward shore, ride the wave and hold on for dear life, praying the hull would protect her from crashing on the sharp reef. Verily’s heart might burst before that happened.

  She no longer had a choice: she must turn toward shore and ride the wave. Her heart grew wings as wide as an albatross’s, and her chest shuddered with its beating.

  She jabbed her paddle into the sea to change her bearing, and stabbed something solid. A shockwave travelled up her forearm and she lost her grip on the paddle. It went overboard as water soaked the right side of her body. Looking down, she inhaled ten liters of terror: she had struck the back of the bigger shark, which had swum alongside her boat. The shark whipped its hind quarters and dove out of sight.

  The resulting wake spun the back of her boat toward shore and lifted the bow toward the oncoming wave, now only ten meters away and roaring. She couldn’t see the moon beyond its crest as her boat dipped into its misty trough. Without a paddle to steer back toward shore, and with the bow lifting vertically, she had no choice but to lunge onto its floor and slip under the benches. Her stomach bottomed out as the boat stood on its tail. Her grip on the underside of the bench felt woefully inadequate to withstand the crash to come.

  The boat twisted sideways. Verily’s breath caught in an eternal gasp from which no prayers could escape. Only time and gravity ruled this high and this deep in the hold of the ocean’s power.

  As the ocean was sucked up into the wave, mountainous ridges of coral lay exposed below her.

  Verily, hands under one bench and shins digging into the other, tugged on the boat, fighting the wave in vain as she tried to force the bow of the boat down.

  The wave kicked the bottom of her boat into a tailspin. As it flipped forward, a great force struck its underbelly and slammed it earthbound. Helpless, she was a passenger as the boat crashed into the frigid water. Her scalp and fingers tasted the chill first. She gasped. A mighty current swept her out of the boat, submerging her in darkness, the muffled roar of an angry ocean filling her ears. A sharp edge cut into her back and dragged. She screamed, inhaling salt water before she could shut her mouth. She choked and the water streamed out in a
nose-burning gag. Her eyes opened to the sting of the salt water, but her tumbling and the dark deep blinded her.

  Why did I come out here? Who’s guiding these waves?

  K…. Too many sad futures emerged uninvited, where her sister would cry and have to survive without her.

  She needed to halt her tumble so she could swim to the surface—if she could tell which was up or down any more—but her air was gone. She couldn't stop coughing, and the ocean was too strong. Air seemed a thousand kilometers away.

  “Open your hand,” the voice from her dream said.

  Verily’s body was a clenched fist, coughing and sore and weak, overpowered by the ocean as though trapped in its belly. Open my hand?

  “You’re not lost. Open your hand.”

  She tumbled… what is this madness? and tumbled again… what other plans do I have? I’ll die.

  She opened her hand. Something smooth and firm caught in her palm, the size of a bike’s handlebar. It gave way under the weight of her momentum, and the ocean dropped her into a new pit. The sound changed from the muffled roar to a continuous splashing. Her back hit a flat floor, and she tumbled feet over head as water sloshed against her face and in her ears. A sudden whoosh from above halted the spray of water as a shallow current carried her over a smooth floor.

  Her stomach clenched into an unbreakable knot, and she vomited up a surprising amount of liquid, along with chunks of dinner. The relief was worth the pain in her insides and nose, and she rested in a dizzy haze.