Gods and Men- The Hank Boyd Omnibus Read online

  GODS AND MEN

  The Hank Boyd Adventures

  Volume 1: Books 1-3

  By Matthew James

  ALSO BY MATTHEW JAMES

  The Hank Boyd Adventures

  Blood and Sand

  Mayan Darkness

  Babel Found

  Elixir of Life

  The Hank Boyd Origins

  The Cursed Pharaoh

  The Dane Maddock Adventures w/ David Wood

  Berserk

  Skin and Bones

  The Logan Reed Thrillers

  Plague

  Evolve

  Standalone Novels

  Dead Moon

  Beautiful Dragons

  Dark Island (Coming Soon)

  PRAISE FOR “THE HANK BOYD ADVENTURES”

  “BLOOD & SAND takes readers on a spellbindingly treacherous journey that also manages to have fun along the way!”

  —Rick Chesler, Bestselling author of HOTEL MEGALODON

  “The Hank Boyd series has been added to my must-read list!”

  —J.M. LeDuc, Bestselling author of SIN

  “The next Hank Boyd Adventure can’t come soon enough!”

  —David McAfee, Bestselling author of 33 A.D

  PRAISE FOR “BERSERK”

  “What should you expect when you mix adventure, complex and humorous characters, ancient science fiction plot with contemporary consequences, magic weapons, and scary monsters? A great story!”

  —C.K. Phillips, Bestselling author of

  COMES THE AWAKENING

  PRAISE FOR “PLAGUE”

  "PLAGUE erupts from the pages in a steroid-filled tornado of terror and shock!"

  —SUSPENSE MAGAZINE

  “PLAGUE is filled with action, monsters, and our new favorite hero, Logan Reed. Need a cup of coffee and the next book!”

  —THE MR. CAFFEINE SHOW

  "PLAGUE is a monstrously thrilling read!"

  —John Sneeden, Bestselling author of THE SIGNAL

  PRAISE FOR “EVOLVE”

  "A rip-roaring action/adventure that grabs you by the throat and doesn't let go, with compelling characters who will stop at nothing to protect one another. Looking forward to the next installment!"

  —Richard Bard, Bestselling author of BRAINRUSH

  PRAISE FOR “DEAD MOON”

  “DEAD MOON is a high-octane thrill ride filled with action, suspense, sadness, and of course, monsters! An amazing read!”

  —Zach Cole, author of KAIJU EPOCH

  GODS AND MEN

  The Hank Boyd Adventures

  Volume 1: Books 1-3

  Blood & Sand

  Mayan Darkness

  Babel Found

  BLOOD & SAND

  BLOOD AND SAND

  A Hank Boyd Adventure - Book 1

  By Matthew James

  Description:

  A fierce sandstorm hits southern Algeria and uncovers a lost ruin, its location unknown to modern man...until now. A team led by slacker archaeologist, Harrison "Hank" Boyd, is called in to investigate the find.

  In way over his head, Hank must lead his team through countless dangers and survive brutal encounters with enemies both human and inhuman alike. And if that's not bad enough, a shadowy group with a thirst for violence and a blind ambition is hot on their heels and will stop at nothing to obtain what has been found.

  Hank and company should have heeded the warning left by the ancient civilization who built this place. Expertly carved into the face of the golden relief found at the ruin entrance and written in perfect Latin is liberate te ex inferis... Save yourself from hell.

  *This updated edition has been re-edited, revised, expanded, and repackaged.

  *Also, check out a Behind the Scenes look at the process of putting together this book, starting from Day 1. It’s located in the back, right after the last chapter.

  PROLOGUE

  Ancient History

  “The end is near, Rahji-itza!” he heard someone yell, well, not yell per se, the statement had been projected into his mind by another. They didn’t technically speak anymore, they didn’t have to. Thought was quicker and easier to convey.

  Out of breath and having trouble focusing on his own words, he knew attempting to have a conversation while sprinting at full speed down a dimly lit underground tunnel wasn’t the place. But he also knew they needed to prepare a coordinated effort once they reached the surface. The battle raging topside was one of mayhem and destruction, and they needed to get there as soon as possible. They needed to help defend their homeland.

  The three continued through the stone passage and up a steep grade of earth where they passed beautiful murals, some complete and others just in their infancy. They depicted the long history of their kingdom. The technological advancements that were made over the centuries had been incredible for sure. Some of the pictographs pictured massive temples and additional, smaller structures, while the other images showed the beautiful landscapes that surrounded the kingdom’s walls. The sculptor, a man more than twice their age, was no doubt home hiding, hopeful they would be able to save the empire.

  “I know, Qaaft,” Rahji-itza thought. “However, we mustn’t yet act. We will rise when called upon. We just went over this.”

  “And if he acts before we are summoned?”

  Rahji-itza glanced over to the third and final member of their party knowing that the speaker, Kylak, was always overly pessimistic, thinking the worst.

  “Let us pray to our father and hope that doesn’t come to pass,” Rahji-itza solemnly answered.

  “And if it does?” Qaaft asked as he skidded to a halt underneath a tall opening above his head. The worry was clearly evident in his communication.

  He and Kylak stopped next to Qaaft, joining him in his upward gaze. From this depth, they could only see a speck of daylight through the opening. But they knew what awaited them. They had seen the events taking place through another’s eyes, that of someone they wish they could not see through.

  They saw fire raining down from the heavens and homes crumbling from the intense seismic activity. They also saw torrential rainfall trouncing the kingdom and blood-red lightning destroying temples. A fourth, an exact duplicate in every way to the three, was at the center of the violent storm, controlling it. His skin was blackened by the hate and revulsion he felt towards his own people. His body, which floated in mid-air, was encased in an obsidian ghost-like fire, acting as a buffer against the melee he now brought upon the city.

  Hundreds were already dead, maybe more.

  Rahji-itza tried to shake the images out of his head, but couldn’t. Without taking his eyes off the now darkening entry point, he sighed a heavy breath. “Then the world will burn.”

  As they prepared to leave, Rahji-itza’s thoughts turned inward as he relived the conversation he and his brothers just had. The plan they came up with would work, but in truth, it frightened him. It was the first time he felt truly scared in a long, long time.

  Ω Ω Ω

  The three sat in an underground cavern deep within a hidden cave system, discussing the future of their world. Stalagmites and stalactites randomly protruded from the floors and ceilings, occasionally meeting to form massive columns. Above them, through hundreds of feet of solid earth, lay an oasis of unmatched beauty in an otherwise barren land.

  They silently communicated, eyes closed, speaking only with their minds. While they sat around a glowing orb of pure crystal, the room shook, the sound of grinding stone resonating around the immense space. A deep echoing boom sounded through the stone ceiling above, signaling that they needed to finish their discussion quickly.

  “Why had they come so deep?” One of them thought. They
initially agreed to descend to the depths of their known world in hopes to block their communications from another, someone they didn’t want listening in on them.

  More rumbles followed, their intensity increasing to the point that a nearby column crumbled and fell, shaking them loose from their conversation. But these three were the strongest in the kingdom, and they quickly reconnected the severed link and continued.

  “What shall you have us do, Rahji-itza? Are we to sit by and watch the world be destroyed? Why don’t we attack now and defeat our lost kin?”

  “Because, Kylak,” Rahji-itza thought. “We are to help contain him, allowing the people of our homeland to flee. We, the Elders of this land, will protect it at all costs until the one strong enough to prevail against him is delivered.”

  The other two reluctantly agreed. There were no other options.

  “How do we proceed?” Kylak asked, frustrated but understanding, his emotion coming out in his words.

  “We will construct a prison powerful enough to contain Nannot,” Rahji-itza replied.

  The others sat in silence. No one had dared to use the enemy’s given name in some time. It had become something of a bad omen to the people of the land above to speak it. Even thinking it like they did, was forbidden. But no one, not even Qaaft and Kylak could argue with Rahji-itza.

  “Where do you suggest we build such a place?” Kylak asked.

  “Right where we sit, in the center of this very cave,” Rahji-itza replied. He opened his arms and felt the room around him come to life in his mind’s eye. The layout of said prison blinked to life in the others’ minds, detailing every little nook-and-cranny. Apparently, Rahji-itza had been working on this plan a lot longer than they had originally thought. It would be an easy undertaking. All they would have to do was retrofit the existing chamber.

  The cavity they sat in—while impressive in size—was nothing compared to the one above their heads. It held some of the greatest relics their civilization had to offer. It’s why it shocked Qaaft and Kylak. Why would Rahji-itza want to infect such a holy place with the murderous Nannot?

  Nearby, another column collapsed as the rumbling increased again. Soon the room will be buried, and with it, their plan to contain the enemy.

  “Under the necropolis?” Qaaft asked, appalled at the idea. “You would willingly taint this place with his presence?”

  “What power do we use to suppress him once he is imprisoned—once our king is done with him?” Kylak asked, keeping the conversation moving along. They were in danger now. The needed to finish quickly and leave.

  The answer pained Rahji-itza to admit, but he knew his brothers would accept it, knowing there was no other way.

  “With us…” he replied, full of sorrow as he put a long slender hand on his chest, patting it. He then lowered his head further, clenching his eyes tighter, doing his best not to lose connection again. Emotion could do that. If you stopped focusing on the conversation, it would abruptly end.

  Rahji-itza shook away the despair and continued. “We will use our very beings, our life force. The power from our physical bodies should be adequate enough to contain him until the time is right.”

  “What of our minds?” Qaaft asked, the thought like a whisper penetrating the quiet. “Are we to sacrifice those as well?”

  “No, my brother,” Rahji-itza replied. “Our minds will lay dormant until the chosen one needs our strength and guidance. Our consciousness will remain intact, helping to bind his spirit to this place. We will fight Nannot in a different way…”

  They sat for a moment without any exchange, listening to the very earth come apart. Rahji-itza, the First Elder, heard the cries for help from the very people he swore to protect and quickly stood. “Come… We must return to the surface and try to restrain the fallen one and forgive him for what he has done and for what he has yet to do.”

  The three defenders knew the consequences of theirs and their king’s actions. If they bound Nannot to this place, what was once a beautiful place of remembrance, would become a place of eternal nightmares.

  Southern Algeria

  Present Day

  Southern Algeria was one of the hottest places on earth. Temperatures reached an excess of 110-degrees Fahrenheit on a daily basis. Barely anything could survive in the harsh environment. The ground was extremely infertile with very little soil to speak of and the lack of rainfall further prohibited vegetation from budding. However, even through all the adversity, some did manage to grow. The only consistency of life inhabiting such an inhospitable region was the rare desert-dwelling creature, and a few of the local tribes now called this place home.

  Karim Dib, a local Tuareg herdsman, ushered his flock through the burning wasteland. They all, Karim included, grunted in protest as they struggled to eclipse the endless expanse of sand dunes. Like all the people of his kin, he had grown accustomed to the terrain and dry heat, but just because he grew up in it didn’t mean he liked it.

  “Murjak!” Karim cursed. He wiped his face with a handkerchief and continued on. “Could it be any hotter?” It was a rhetorical question and needed no answer.

  Yes, he thought. It could be hotter and had been on countless occasions.

  The native endured, leading his herd of camels through a desolate stretch of land on his way to meet a buyer. The money was good, but the job could be a whole lot better.

  Though this section of the desert was as unforgiving as the rest, it had one significant difference. It was made up mostly of sandstone. Sandstone was a very porous type of rock, and within this mineral, you could find a relatively large supply of water due to the spongy makeup. Because of these rare subversive water supplies, you could also find a somewhat “healthy” population of desert vegetation.

  Karim knew he could push his convoy as hard as he needed. They’re camels after all. That’s what they do. But he couldn’t move forward at this pace any longer. He needed to stop and rest.

  He planned to stop in the next valley, in between twin rises of sand. As he was about to speak the command—a massive gust of wind and sand slammed into him. He fought to stay on his feet, but the pain of the sand scorching his face and stinging his eyes forced him to the ground, adding to the nauseating disorientation. It felt like he was tumbling down the world’s largest dune, barrel rolling again, again, and again. But this was different.

  A haboob, he thought as he got buffeted again. He’d seen many sandstorms in these parts over the years, but this one seemed different. It was…bigger.

  The wind picked up speed and started to howl like a freight train, washing over everything in its path. First, the camels went under the veil of sand. Next was the herdsman.

  He sprang to his feet in defiance, cursing the sky itself. But just as fast as he got to his feet, he was knocked back down. Unable to regain his footing a second time, Karim was buried by the sudden blizzard of sand. He dug and clawed and fought his way to freedom—only to be enveloped once more.

  On his final attempt, he was kicked in the face by a struggling camel, it too being forced to the ground between waves.

  With all his strength exhausted and woozy from the shot to the head, Karim was completely consumed by the sand. Just like the villages of the past, his very existence was wiped away. The only things to survive were a few lucky camels that had bolted in fear, unknowingly saving themselves.

  Less than one-hundred yards from where the herdsman was interred, now exists a newly exposed smudge in an otherwise unimpressive expanse of golden desert.

  Carved into what appeared to be a bronze colored stone, or maybe some type of metal was writing that has not seen the light of day for thousands of years. The carvings would have given anyone pause, for there was beauty in the craftsmanship, but also a strange feeling of foreboding.

  And there was a reason for that, for within the ruins, or more specifically under them, was a place of death and untold suffering.

  THE BEGINNING

  1

  Over the At
lantic Ocean

  One Week Later

  “Harrison.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut tighter, ignoring the voice.

  “Harrison?”

  I don’t answer and grumble in irritation.

  “HARRISON!”

  The voice thunders through the enclosed space of the airplane cabin, causing all its occupants to jolt. Grunts of annoyance are joined by murmurs of disapproval within the compartment’s first-class section.

  “What?” I cry out, a little startled and confused. “Are we there already?”

  I stretch, scratch my forever five o’clock shadow, yawn, and smack my dry cotton mouth away with my tongue. Blinking my eyes awake, I sit up and look for a stewardess. I raise my hand to wave, wanting to ask for a drink, but it’s then I realize who was shouting at me. I glance to the seat across the aisle and see its occupant.

  A man in his late-fifties with wavy salt and pepper hair, exactly like mine—minus the color—stares at me like I just kicked his dog. From the look on his face, he’s apparently upset with me for some reason.

  “You’re kidding me right, Harrison?” he complains. “You fell asleep in the middle of our discussion!”

  “Oh, right… Sorry, Dad.”

  I apologize, but honestly, I don’t really mean it. I’m pretty sure he knows too. We can read each other like an old married couple, having spent most of my thirty years of life right by his side. I’ve even gone to some extra effort to make it obvious that I’m not happy about being pulled away from my very relaxing vacation. Who’d want to leave the Keys to go traipsing across the desert to God-knows-where to find God-knows-what?