The Founding of Denispri

“Do not stop.”
“Do not go beside the way.”
“Do not pick up anything along the way.”

But can Verdura’s new residents obey these commands?

A scene from The Founding of Denispri:
Tsiskwa leaped down and stood before Joshua.
“Do not let your arrow fly!” she cried. “We have no weapons and we mean you no harm!”
Joshua rose quickly and stood beside her, pushing her around behind him with one hand. The warrior looked at the two of them, but did not lower his bow. He and the woman walked forward stiffly.
“Who are you?” the warrior asked harshly.
“I’m Joshua and this is Tsiskwa,” said Joshua quickly. “Ispri sent us to get you.”
The bow was lowered slightly and the string relaxed, but the arrow was kept to the string. “And who is this Ispri?” The two couples stood a few yards apart.
“Well,” said Joshua, “I guess he’s the king of this place. He’s the one who... I don’t quite know how to say it so you’ll understand. But he sent us to bring you back to him.”
The warrior grunted, placing the arrow back in its quiver. “And why did it take him so long to send you? And where is he? Has he taken us in battle?”
“No, nothing like that,” said Joshua. “And we came as fast as we could.” He couldn’t help letting a little indignation spill over into his tone of voice. “And you would have been killed if he had not taken you from your world.”
The warrior snorted placing his right hand on the hilt of his sword glaring at Joshua, the woman came forward and deliberately placed her hand over his sword hand.
“Wait,” she said. “Perhaps they can answer some of your questions.” Turning to Joshua and Tsiskwa she asked, “What do you mean we would have been killed if he had not taken us?”
“When you stopped to pick up your bracelet,” said Joshua, “and then had to jump into that depression.” The woman glanced quickly at the man. “...he brought you here... or, at least, to his Court and then to here.”
“You talk nonsense,” said the warrior. “Speak plainly.”
“Did you not see darkness for a moment?” asked Joshua. The warrior nodded his head once. “That was in his court. It was dark for me the first time I was there, too.”
The sword came ringing out of the scabbard.
“This makes no sense,” said the warrior. “Say truly or die, foreigner. Where have you taken us? Where is Birka?”
Joshua crouched as if to defend himself, though how he could defend himself from a sword he had no idea. Then he thought better of it, straightened and spoke quietly. “I have told the truth,” he said, “even if you don’t understand. Ispri will show you in time.”
“It is time,” said Tsiskwa, approaching the warrior almost to the point of his sword. “I fell into a sink-hole, and into darkness. Like you I felt with my hands to find my way. And then I was here, in this place. But unlike you, I heard a voice speak words of comfort. Now, I learned it was this Ispri who spoke to me. He has sent this white warrior and me to find you.” She backed a little distance away. “We do not know what has happened to your place. But we are asked to bring you with us. Will you come?”

From North and South America, Europe, Asia, Africa, and the Middle East; from the 14th and 3rd centuries B.C., from the 10th, 16th, 18th and 19th centuries A.D.; spouses, enemies, friends, strangers–twelve of them rescued from certain death on earth become the first families of Verdura.
Joshua and Marie Duncan are sent ahead to find each couple as they enter Verdura; to lead them to where they will begin their new lives together.
But people have their own ideas, their own desires. Sometimes they work for the common good. Sometimes they work against one another.
And they mess up. But they often can’t undo the consequences. They lack the power, the knowledge, the means, to undo the evil they’ve caused.
Someone else must undo it. But can it be undone? By whom? At what cost?
Will Verdura end before it begins?

Over a period of twenty-five years, Dr. Saunders lived in four countries in Europe--working in more than three dozen countries both before and after the end of communist rule--with the purpose of describing and purveying grace. Overcoming cultural differences and ways of communicating gave him insight both into what divides people and into what unites them. It also helped him understand elements in various cultures, baggage some call it, that keep people from hearing one another. Writing fantasy gave him a way to minimize the baggage and show truths to people they might otherwise be unable to see.

Anna Coleman is a freelance illustrator living in Deltona, Florida. She received formal training in Fine Art at Flagler College where she earned her BFA in 2011. Her style is versatile, ranging from detailed traditional paintings to whimsical digital illustrations. Anna's favorite things are animals, vintage aesthetics and the outdoors, which make them reoccurring themes in her work. She shares her home with her husband, her dog, and a growing collection of house plants.