Nick Smyth
VISITATIONS FROM THE PAST
When a beautiful, mysterious orphan from Cornwall falls in love, the relationship immediately sparks off frightening visions for her, which are apparently connected with a previous life she knows nothing about.
A FAMILY IN TORMENT
The couple are bewildered when their first child develops extraordinary powers over birds, animals and other children. She draws a sign on her blackboard which for some unknown reason terrifies her mother and the ultimate effect traumatises the whole family. She goes on to cause such mayhem in their quiet market town, that in the end they are forced to move. Will this help to ease their torment?
AN ANCIENT PROPHECY REVEALS ITSELF
Ancestral research reveals an identical sign on an old Cornish gravestone Does this power originate from Cornwall?. A university professor attempts to unravel the mystery but not even he realises the dramatic consequences that are about to ensue as a legend from the past bursts into the present and takes over their lives.
IT SEEKS ATONEMENT – BUT FOR WHAT AND WHY?
The family are left distraught as the reader is transported back into the distant past to discover the origin of this controlling power, generated by an ancient civilization, whose rituals were specifically intended to provide a defence against the coming of an enemy foretold by the prophets. Their struggles to prevent the nation from being torn apart are portrayed against a background of cataclysmic events that leave an immortal legacy, destined to be played out in the future.
Nick Smyth was born in Kent in 1934 and spent his youth on a remote tobacco farm in Southern Rhodesia, now Zimbabwe. Back in England, after an engineering apprenticeship in Stafford, he married Margaret in 1969 and moved to the steel industry in Scunthorpe. In 1978, the family moved to Wales and Nick worked as an international contractor, experiencing a wealth of cultures, in India, the Colombian jungle, Egypt and Algeria as well as long hours on North Sea oil platforms, where "The Condor Stone" emerged from a fertile mind during the evenings. He retired to help in the family holiday business, winning several prestigious awards, including the BBC Radio 4 Food Programme's "Best B&B in Britain". He and Margaret are now enjoying retirement.
Nick writes for a local magazine and has several more novels on the stocks. He also makes iron sculptures and table lamps out of scrap metal. He speaks French, Spanish and Welsh and enjoys walking over the mountains of Southern Snowdonia.
The girl attendant had almost reached the smooth knob of rock which held the lifeline. She glanced back at the entrance, there was no one in sight. She looked down at her quarry, they were absolutely intent on the task in hand. She edged closer to the worn belay. The knob was smooth from long use and was safe only when the pull on it was downwards. One swift heave would be all that was required.
Down at the pool side, Illa looked back at the old headman as if to say "Well, what now?"
He threw some more bait onto the water and produced the knife. The gems in its handle sparkled and the blade gleamed dully. No sunlight ever penetrated this far, the surrounding walls were vertical.
"Can you use this?" He asked uncertainly.
Illa took the ceremonial knife and awkwardly tested the point and the blade. Neither was very sharp. She weighed it in her hand, it was very heavy.
"I have never stabbed anything in my life" she wailed, "I do not know how to or where to hit the fish's body."
On the path above, the attendant crouched down and slid her body under the taught twin ropes securing the two at the pool. All she had to do was to stand up and her shoulders would pick the two strands off the life-preserving belay.
Further eruptions showed that the fish had returned to take the bait in increasing numbers. They both leant out over the water, all their combined weight supported by the lifeline. The treacherous girl heaved herself upright with all her strength. The rope slid easily over the knob. With nothing to restrain him, the old headman pitched straight into the black, swirling water.
Illa was standing almost upright. Almost, but not quite. She screamed in terror, wobbled perilously, then agonisingly slowly, arms and legs flailing, she also toppled into the seething whirlpool after her hapless guardian.
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