April 13, 2017
Starboy is a New Adult mystery novel with a touch of comedy. Follow Darason, the so-called son of the Lord of Stars, from his birth to his ‘going away’. Set mainly in Siem Reap, Cambodia and on the planet Thestias, this story is an irreverent look at the exploits of our planet’s next saviour.
Watch the child as his power grows. Guided by the uber-camp angel, Julian, Darason struggles with his parentage. Who is his true father? Is it the drunken fiancé of his mother? Could it be the westerner who shares Darason’s strange grey eyes? How about Julian, the angel? Or is it Astaroth, the Lord of Stars himself?
Darason’s path leads him to El Capitan in Yosemite, where he is approached by his nemesis. Will the being succeed in persuading Darason to revert to the dark side and worship him, or will our hero triumph? Darason’s one desire is to learn to fly. When offered the chance of being saved if he leaps from the summit of El Cap., how will Darason react?
The thrilling finale, set at the Cambodian New Year in Siem Reap, brings Darason and his acolytes to the Angkorian Temple of Bayon. Here, the Devil makes one last attempt to foil Julian’s plan. Will Good triumph, or will Darason be destroyed before he can complete his mission?
Follow their struggles with jealousy, temptation and treachery as their paths intertwine.
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Thump, thump, thump! Yama stomped his way out of the Lord of Star's throne room. The dressing down he received and the dumb suggestions Astaroth made enraged him to busting point. He barrelled up to the door, ready to throw it back so hard it could punch its way through the wall behind for all he cared. The father of all had to see how upset he was over the unfair way he had been treated. Crash! Blinded by a white-hot fury, he walked straight into the automatic exit. The damn thing moved at the pace of a snail. Instead of displaying his wrath to Astaroth so the God could appreciate his ire, he made himself look a fool, which made his frustration ten times worse. Shaking his head as though the gesture would get rid of the memory of his meeting, he kicked a passing, defenceless Cupid, punting the helper down the corridor.
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Yama looked up at the Lord of Stars towering over him. The God's golden glowing wings spread wide making him appear omniscient. Yama cowered in front of Astaroth, straining to hear his words above the thunderous explosions. If he makes himself any more objectionable, I'll throttle him. What is this … this … this… flatworm trying to do to me? I … Am … Not … A … Child. Why is he treating me like one? The last time he did this I felt the same. And that was all over a naked man I carved into the planet's surface a thousand qodits ago. He's impossible. The Lord enraged him a millennium before. He invoked a door-busting fury now.
Yama could say nothing as Astaroth brandished the crystal sceptre of power in his gnarled hands. Despite his advanced age, the Lord's knuckles were tensed and white as his talons gripped the fearsome tool. His still-powerful muscles bulged, and the veins in his paper-white face throbbed. He shook his star-studded black gown and riled the Devata with his displays of wrath. Astaroth's steel-grey eyes, framed by his white bushy brows, hardened the longer Yama listened to his outpouring all but without comment. Did Yama feel intimidated? With no ifs or buts, yes, he felt intimidated. Bile rose in his throat as he tried to control his temper. Maybe by luck, but more likely by Astaroth's intent, the meeting ended before Yama could explode. This might have been a disastrous mistake, considering the tension boiling in the room at that moment. The Lord of Stars stomped into his inner sanctum, leaving Yama to deal with his feelings and obey his orders.
The Devata took one final look around the temple, as an occasional flare escaped from the Lord's private chamber. The décor of the room did little to put Yama at ease. The Lord coloured the projected walls a starless black for the meeting. The throne of the Lord blazed, as was normal, but the God set the fire colour to bright orange and turned the flame and lava flow to their maximum settings. The sceptre-emitted bolts of lightning left their scorch marks on the floor and ceiling where they burst out the tower. Yama yelped as a strike missed his wings by a fraction while Astaroth relayed his orders. Sweat trickled down his face after the near miss. Astaroth made his point, and Yama did not appreciate it. With the God occupying his head, he walked into the door. His anger boiled over.
Frinx him! May he find himself outside the dome, roasting on the light side. Then he kicked the Cupid. After the diminutive helper had landed, it looked back in surprise and yelped. Fortunately for the Cupid, it scuttled away without saying anything.
Yama exploded into the exercise room in the third ring and spent an entire qress thrashing the robo-trainers. The workout failed to calm his mood, so he went another circuit. Even after a second qress, his temper had not cleared, but his breathing was becoming less tense, and the throbbing vein in his neck slowed. Sweat streamed off his body from the workout and ran down his wing feathers. In place of his seething anger, he was now hot, tired, hungry enough to eat an affenpinscher and as thirsty as a rock in the waterless and airless plains of the planet. So, after a rapid sonic shower, he went to seek solace in the lounge. Maybe one of his buddies would be there to listen while he ranted over the problems. He put on a clean toga, which turned scarlet for anger even before he could fasten it. The Devata crashed through the exit; the invisible doors opened with a shhhhh, quickly enough to avoid his piling into them for the second time that qirum. He snatched a handful of meal tablets from the dispenser on the wall. The water from the adjacent tap slopped on the floor as his hands shook and his wings wobbled. The magic liquid disappeared into the self-cleaning carpet, prompting the condescending machine voice to utter 'thank you'. The condescending way the floor had of making Devatas feel making a mess was not their problem, annoyed him further. He kicked the wall panel under the tap.
Yama hobbled to the large glass window and paused to allow his broken toe to re-set. He looked outside to try to calm himself one last time before meeting any of his fellows. Above them all, the crystal dome kept the precious atmosphere stable. He reckoned he should be grateful to Astaroth instead of angry. Without the dome, the city would be nothing. Without the dome, no one could live on Thestias. The ammonia-laced atmosphere was perfect for the world's citizens, but it would dissipate in a heartbeat were it not for the cover. The structure had soared above them for hundreds of thousands of qodits, maybe millions. Yama had no idea how old the city was. Astaroth would know, of course. Damn know-all Astaroth knew everything.
The voice of his long-dead mother spoke inside his addled head, calming him, soothing his bad mood. She talked this way when he was an irate fledgeling; she soothed him now. Don't be angry, my son. When the Lord of Stars was a young man himself, he devoted all his life constructing the palace and the cupola above it so we can live here now. In those times, Thestias had its own atmosphere, and unimaginable fantastic creatures ran free. Our God foresaw the destruction caused when the meteorite landed and ripped off our air. He predicted the fire that spread round from the light side of the planet burning the world in its wake. Without thought of his own sacrifice, Astaroth devoted his life to building our giant ships to explore the stars. The time will come when we discover a new world we can inhabit; we can fly there and live as we did before. You should be grateful for everything the Lord has done for you. Make certain you pray to him and thank him every night. Yama wasn't thankful. He was still angry.
As the Devata gazed out the window, he watched the weather recover from its God-induced turmoil. The massive storm kicked up by Astaroth's wrath decayed. The central tower of the temple bore the fresh scars from being blasted time and again. Not to worry, the Cupids would repaint it. A thousand bolts of lightning had penetrated the pinnacle while Astaroth raged, all generated by the God's crystal sceptre. He watched as the last few stray strikes exploded from the eight-faced monolith into the decaying clouds. A last divine spark arced between the multitudes of turrets around the city as if a grand finale to the celestial show. The million stone faces lit up as the jagged lines of fire darted between the city towers.
Yama could see the Cupids watching the display from windows in other tiers. I hope you enjoyed the spectacle. That was all at my expense. You didn't have to suffer the rough end of Astaroth's anger. The Cupids would be busy for a qodit, repairing all the damage Astaroth inflicted during the one brief storm. If the God was recovering from his bout of temper, as the improving weather outside suggested, Yama could regain his self-control too. Calm might be returning to Astaroth's sanctum now, but it would take a little while longer to come back to him.
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“I live in England and am a full-time writer. I have travelled extensively for many years. Being inspired by the culture of South East Asia, many of my works are set there, or in my home country.
I write for new adults, young people and old, who are interested in learning about the stories behind the people. My sub-genres range from fantasy, through pure fiction to books based more on fact, but fictionalised.
My continuing desire to reach the weight of my youth is helped by my trusted bicycle, which carries me places new for research, and wrecked by my love of cakes, devoured during the writing process.”
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