The Hammer - Cor Series Book I

Chapter 1

Corvan jolted awake, gasping as if he'd been trapped underwater. Cold sweat trickled past his ear. The nightmare had returned and each night the monster pursued him through the dark caves; the fierce hatred in its eyes was coming closer.

Rolling onto his back, he studied the myriad of familiar cracks in the plaster overhead. He had no doubt the dream was directly connected to a time when this was his grandfather's room. Although the man had mysteriously vanished on the day before Corvan's second birthday, Corvan retained a distinct memory of sitting on the bed with his grandfather, looking out the window, and listening to stories of monsters and caves.

Swinging his shaking legs out of bed, he crossed to the window, sat on the wide sill, and leaned against the jamb. A cool breeze, fresh with the scent of approaching rain, raised goose bumps on his skin. Beyond the golden sunrise on the green of the aspen trees that bordered his back yard, the gentle wind was stirring his family's crop of golden wheat into waves that swept in to run ashore against a massive mound of granite—his favorite place in the entire world. The rounded sides of the rock climbed thirty feet above the sea of grain in an unbroken curve until it reached Castle Rock, Corvan's name for the ring of boulders crowning the summit. From his bedroom window, the protective circle of stones looked like the beginnings of another Stonehenge or the ruins of an ancient island citadel.

The fort he had built inside the rocks was his personal fortress of solitude, a refuge from the realities of his complicated life. Unfortunately, unlike his comic book hero, his hideaway was within earshot of his mother's call from the back porch.

Leaning his forehead into a well-worn bulge in the metal window screen, Corvan searched the outline of each rock, but nothing moved. The creature he had caught a glimpse of the previous week had completely vanished. It wasn't anywhere near the size of the monster in his nightmares, but the timing of its appearance along with the secrecy surrounding his upcoming fifteenth birthday added to his growing apprehension.

Sitting back, he tipped his head against the window frame and watched the slender cloud fingers caress the blue sky. His father believed that his coming of age in 1952 was of great importance. So far, the only part of the year that held any personal significance was when Mrs. Barron, the owner of the corner store, had given him a science fiction book her son had picked up in the city but didn't like.

"Consider it an early birthday present," she had said, her eyes holding a sympathetic glint. "Your mother tells me this is an important birthday for you, and I know things are a bit tight right now with the mine closed down and all."

The book was entitled, A Star Man's Son, and each time he read it, he found himself identifying more strongly with its mutant hero, Fors of the Puma Clan. Fors was also bullied and mocked for his appearance, but at least Fors was able to escape his situation with his loyal companion. Corvan could relate to living as an outcast on the great plains. He could only hope that one day he too would break free of the constraints that were holding him back.

Getting out of bed, he stood before the mirror hanging on the short walls that supported the vaulted ceiling of his room. He was the only one short enough to stand up where the sloped ceiling met the wall. At school he had to look three grades below his own to find someone shorter. Some of the younger kids joked that he was the skinny ninety-eight pound weakling in the comic book ads. Corvan looked at his chest. It was true, for every one of his ribs was clearly visible.

The whistle of the kettle in the kitchen below his room interrupted his thoughts. Corvan sighed. He would rather go back to bed and face the nightmare than get ready for another day of school. At least with the monster, he would eventually wake up and the fear would fade. In real life, at least for the past year, his problems at home and at school clung to him like burrs on his woolen socks.