In the Shadows: A Collection of Works by Bradley H. Sinor

But the down-timers have too. So, when the King is murdered on the way to see his unborn son, and the Cardinal is gravely wo The West Virginians from Grantville have met many historical personages since the small town was flung back in time and into a new universe. The dynamic foursome is charged with saving the Cardinal and getting him out of the reach of evil King Gaston.

Kindle Edition , pages. To see what your friends thought of this book, please sign up. Lists with This Book. This book is not yet featured on Listopia. Nov 06, Charles rated it it was amazing. Continues the RoF saga and brings in the three musketeers, d'artagnan, and the red cardinal richeliu, The cardinal is hurt in an assassination.

D artagnan is ordered to bring him to a place os safety as he is pursued by the new king. Meeting with his fiends the musketeers this is the story of their attempt to save the cardinal. Jul 25, Larry Loughlin rated it did not like it. And arduous Journey What I mean by arduous Journey is reading this book was arduous. The dialogue between characters bordered on childish. The four main characters 10 to conduct themselves more like pubescent boys then the professional soldiers that they are. If you were looking for a swashbuckling ramp across France full of Daring Do you ain't gunna find it in this book.

Oct 04, Bill rated it liked it. I was hoping for more background regarding the Musketeers and more excitement.

Eleanore Sero rated it really liked it Sep 19, Robert Ewing rated it it was amazing Jul 03, John F Cavanagh rated it really liked it Jul 20, James Allison rated it it was amazing Jul 18, Jason rated it it was ok Jul 02, Janet rated it liked it Jul 31, John Lemke rated it liked it Jun 30, Joshua Pendley rated it liked it Aug 17, Pat Fergus rated it liked it Sep 23, She stayed like that for a moment, then slid backward onto her bed, lying as silently as the darkness around her.

Three candles and a piece of chalk were all that Van Helsing needed after he had returned to the asylum with the leather folio.

Weird Fiction, Cosmic horror, and the Cthulhu Mythos

None of the staff had come into the room except for a single orderly who said nothing, just stood in the doorway looking at the scene in front of him and left. I beg of you, no matter what happens, no matter what you might see or hear, you must not interfere in any way, shape or form. Bell had said nothing, just took a place outside of the design in the corner of the room. The Scotsman extracted a thick cigar from his coat pocket, but did not light it. Instead he stood there quietly, brandishing the tobacco like a weapon. After lighting the candles, Van Helsing sat cross-legged in the middle of the design.

The Hunt for The Red Cardinal

He tried to push everything else out of his mind, focusing on Elena and the place where she dwelled. A distant carillon marked the half-hour and then the hour while Van Helsing stared down at the Codex pages he had laid in a semi-circle around him. He began to read, carefully pronouncing each word, hoping that the impromptu translation would be accurate. Between one heartbeat and the next, Van Helsing felt everything change.

The asylum was gone; there was no sign of Bell or Elena or even the city. Van Helsing knew this place; he had walked here and in others like it over the years. At first glance it seemed like a hill far out in the countryside. Nothing appeared that much out of the ordinary, but no matter what direction he looked in, nothing felt quite right.

Coming toward him from the west was a man dressed in the Bedouin robes of an Arab. The figure never seemed to go faster than a brisk walk, but grew closer at an amazing pace. When the man stopped in front of him, Van Helsing recognized the face: The long mustachios only clinched the identification. He could see that face in this younger one that stood in front of him. For no more than a moment the human shape was gone, replaced by something else: Then the man in the Arab robes stood before Van Helsing again. The figure laughed and began to speak in a vaguely Arabic dialect, though the words were like nothing heard on the seas of sand.

That very action was enough to shake him loose, he realized, from the holding spell that the thing had on him. Long tendrils of pulsating flesh were inching their way toward his legs. He kicked at them, driving the toes of his boots into the sod. That seemed to be enough to drive them back, for the moment at least. The sensation of falling through a door surrounded him and then everything was calm.

Taking several deep breaths, Van Helsing looked around. Again the scene had changed, but again it was a place that he knew — too damned well. No peaceful landscape this, but ruins that stretched on as far as the eye could see. The night sky was filled with churning clouds that gave the whole place a feeling of never-ending midnight. Cyclopean ruins stretched to the landscape and beyond. What life there might have been here had long since been crushed out. To some they were gods, to others demons; to Van Helsing they had always been something to fear which must be never be allowed to escape from their prisons.

A hundred yards in front of him he could see a pair of twin pylons, electricity filling the air between them like a Van de Graaff generator gone wild. Van Helsing knew this place all too well. There had not been a day in the last dozen years when the image of it had left his mind. His hand clenched and he could feel the obsidian knife for a moment.

She was as he had last seen her, stretched out on an altar-like slab of rock in front of the pylons, her face pale, the wind whipping strands of hair across it. She had not aged in the dozen years since the two of them had arrived in this place, come to place a seal that would keep Yog Sog Oth from coming through the gate. Why should she age? This was her soul, her true self, as real to the touch as anything, though her true body lay in the asylum, raving about penguins and hurling monkeys.

Van Helsing fought down the self-loathing that sought to rise in his throat, with the knowledge that he had condemned the woman he loved to lie as guardian of this place for the rest of her life. His fingers clenched with the memory of wrapping themselves around it, the memory of her hands on his, helping to push the blade into her heart. His hand brushed against the silver swan brooch on her blouse, a gift on their first anniversary. Elena stood at his side, a look of sadness and joy in her eyes.

Unlike the figure on the altar, who wore a traveling skirt, vest and loose blouse, this woman wore a gown of black and scarlet, an identical silver swan brooch affixed to her left breast, her face young and not yet touched by pain and madness. Van Helsing reached for her but she pulled back, just out of his reach. What you see is at best an echo of what I was.

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You are always looking out for me. There is a way. But we both know it cannot be. I have become one with this place, and it was necessary for a human soul from a still living body to hold the line here.

Echoes from the Darkness

The gate can only be held as long as there is a guardian, one whose soul is imprisoned here and whose body lives on Earth. Besides, with the terror that has held, that has pounded into the very core of my soul, I do not believe I would be able to wear sanity again. The seals on the gate had worn away with the passing millennia. Only the willing sacrifice of someone to become the guardian could keep them in place.

I do not know what I would have done had he succeeded. I would give anything to stand with you again, facing the unknown, growing old at your side. But that cannot be. I know that what happened will happen again, as surely as one day follows another. The followers of the Elder Gods are always probing, trying to find ways to free their deities.

There is a great evil that will soon be afoot in the world. The only way it can be defeated is if you are there to hold the line and drive it back. Van Helsing looked toward the echo of his wife. She had moved away from him and the altar. From her open palms shot bolts of light, glowing a sickly green, which flew outwards faster than anything he had ever seen.

Van Helsing staggered backwards, one arm free and frantically struggling to balance himself with it. Remember that I love you and will always be near. Van Helsing felt words dying in his throat as he rolled through a door into darkness. The last image before he passed out was of the silver swan pin, the one on the woman standing in front of him, as his hand closed around it. Van Helsing stared into the amber liquid that half-filled his brandy snifter for several moments before he finally took a swallow. He had never particularly liked the taste of brandy, preferring the taste of a good single malt.

Echoes from the Darkness by Bradley H. Sinor

But in this case, the burning sensation as it rolled down his throat felt very right. The gate could not be left without a guardian. The lack of one was what had precipitated problems in the first place.

I can imagine he would class me in with some of those rather colorfully-named patients of his. But getting back to you, I suppose you can supply me with one of those eminently obvious lines of reasoning to back up your conclusion. She gave me a rough idea of what they said. Seems that the spell you were wanting, to make it work, required an exchange: Knowing how you blame yourself for what happened to Elena, the rest was obvious. It would have worked, too. That I could prove to you it was all in your mind.

But I know that to you it was very real. Van Helsing reached into his pocket and brought out the silver swan pin. It had been real, very real. Van Helsing shook his head. Elena said that my place was here, that there was great evil that I had to confront. Lord knows what she was talking about. At the bottom was a letter bearing an English stamp and postmark. He opened it and half-heartedly scanned the contents.

That will be just enough time to put matters in order here. I hope that you will not object to some company, at least part way. Van Helsing held up the letter. He operates an asylum near Whitby, outside of London. There is a case there he needs to consult me on. If you enjoyed this story, let Brad know by commenting — and please use the Facebook, Twitter, and Google Plus buttons below to spread the word. Return to the table of contents. Just a great story, thank you. Thank you, David, AJ. Glad you enjoyed the story. Does this mean that, perhaps, Van Helsing meets with Doyle when going back with Bell and becomes the inspiration of Dr.

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