Book Summary:
In a desperate attempt to escape destruction decades earlier, humankind was forced underground, into the
depths of the earth, creating a new society called the Tri-Realms.
After her parents and sister are abducted by the Enforcers, seventeen-year-old Adele, a member of the
middle-class moon dwellers, is unjustly sentenced to life in prison for her parents' crimes of treason.
Against all odds, Adele must escape from the Pen and find her family, while being hunted by a deranged, killing machine named Rivet, who works for the President. She is helped by two other inmates, Tawni and Cole, eachof whom have dark secrets that are better left undiscovered. Other than her friends, the only thing she has going for her is a wicked roundhouse kick and two fists that have been well-trained for combat by her father.
At the other end of the social spectrum is Tristan, the son of the President and a sun dweller. His mother is
gone. He hates his father. Backed by only his servant and best friend, Roc, he leaves his lavish lifestyle in the
Sun Realm, seeking to make something good out of his troubled life.
When a war breaks out within the Tri-Realms, Tristan is thrust into the middle of a conflict that seems tomysteriously follow Adele as she seeks to find her family and uncover her parents true past.
Excerpt:
Tristan
Tristan
I long to feel the wind tousle my hair, the sunlight on my face. Not the fake sun my father’s engineers have created, but the real thing. There is nothing like it.
The underworld is so different. Dark, gloomy—it feels dead to me. Like it isn’t natural that any form of life other than the spiders and snakes and bats should occupy it. Certainly not humans.
And if we live in the underworld, then my father is the Devil himself, shrewd, evil, self-serving. They say that blood creates an unbreakable bond. If there is a bond between my father and me—created by blood, DNA, or something else entirely—it is as brittle as talc, cracking and crumbling while I was still in my mother’s womb.
I see her face again—the moon dweller with the shimmering black hair—so beautiful, so strong, so sad, like she is crying invisible tears. Reaching out, I try to touch her, to comfort her. But each time I try, she seems further away, as if some unseen force is keeping us apart. I run, pumping my arms and legs harder and harder, trying to keep up with her, but never able to close the gap. Finally, when I think my legs will collapse beneath me, she stops. I approach, my heart fluttering, my body trembling in anticipation of feeling her skin against mine. I hear a slight whirr and feel a whoosh of air as something flies just past my ear. A flaming arrow. No! Already a spot of blood is seeping through her white tunic where the arrowhead has pierced her breast. The flames are licking at her clothes, charring them. I try to run to her, to douse the flames, to pluck the arrow from her skin and stop the bleeding, but my feet won’t move. At first I think I’m in shock, that I’m simply too weak-minded to gain control of my body, but when I look at my feet, they are encased in stone. He moves past me. The archer. I can’t see his face, but I’d recognize his gait anywhere. My creator. I scream at him to Stop, please stop! but he ignores me, instead blowing softly on the flames, fueling them until they spread. I have to turn away—God, how desperately I want to turn away—but I can’t. Can’t. Can’t even close my eyes. I watch her burn. She is brave—doesn’t even cry out, but I can hear her screams anyway.
I wake up sweating and yelling, thrashing about in my bed. And thinking about the underworld.
The underworld is so different. Dark, gloomy—it feels dead to me. Like it isn’t natural that any form of life other than the spiders and snakes and bats should occupy it. Certainly not humans.
And if we live in the underworld, then my father is the Devil himself, shrewd, evil, self-serving. They say that blood creates an unbreakable bond. If there is a bond between my father and me—created by blood, DNA, or something else entirely—it is as brittle as talc, cracking and crumbling while I was still in my mother’s womb.
I see her face again—the moon dweller with the shimmering black hair—so beautiful, so strong, so sad, like she is crying invisible tears. Reaching out, I try to touch her, to comfort her. But each time I try, she seems further away, as if some unseen force is keeping us apart. I run, pumping my arms and legs harder and harder, trying to keep up with her, but never able to close the gap. Finally, when I think my legs will collapse beneath me, she stops. I approach, my heart fluttering, my body trembling in anticipation of feeling her skin against mine. I hear a slight whirr and feel a whoosh of air as something flies just past my ear. A flaming arrow. No! Already a spot of blood is seeping through her white tunic where the arrowhead has pierced her breast. The flames are licking at her clothes, charring them. I try to run to her, to douse the flames, to pluck the arrow from her skin and stop the bleeding, but my feet won’t move. At first I think I’m in shock, that I’m simply too weak-minded to gain control of my body, but when I look at my feet, they are encased in stone. He moves past me. The archer. I can’t see his face, but I’d recognize his gait anywhere. My creator. I scream at him to Stop, please stop! but he ignores me, instead blowing softly on the flames, fueling them until they spread. I have to turn away—God, how desperately I want to turn away—but I can’t. Can’t. Can’t even close my eyes. I watch her burn. She is brave—doesn’t even cry out, but I can hear her screams anyway.
I wake up sweating and yelling, thrashing about in my bed. And thinking about the underworld.
About the author
David Estes was born in El Paso, Texas but moved to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania when he was very young. He grew up in Pittsburgh and then went to Penn State for college. Eventually moved to Sydney, Australia where he met his wife. A reader all his life, he began writing novels for the children's and YA markets in 2010. He´s awriter with OCD, a love of dancing and singing (but only when no one is looking or listening), a mad-skilled ping-pong player, and prefers writing at the swimming pool to writing at a table.
Author of the Evolution Trilogy
http://davidestesbooks.blogspot.com
http://www.facebook.com/pages/David-Estes/130864990343920
Tour Schedule:
June 18
Cover Excerpt and Link to all blogs in the tourJune 19
Review and Giveaway
June 20
Character Guest post
June 21
Guest Post
June 22
ExcerptJune 23
Review and GiveawayJune 24
Author Interview and Giveaway
June 25
Excerpt
June 26
Review and Giveaway
June 27
Guest Post
June 28
June 28
Character Guest post
June 29
June 29
Author Interview, and closing post
1 comments:
Thank you so much for being part of The Moon Dwellers blog tour, the post looks awesome!!! I can't wait to see what your readers think of The Moon Dwellers :)
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