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Thundersea

by Ernie Palamarek; co-published with Trade Winds Productions

344 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #99-0020; ISBN 1-55212-251-4; US$25.50, C$29.00, EUR21.00, £14.50

An exciting first novel in a series set in exotic locations, Thundersea erupts explosively, introducing a somewhat jaded but dashing Rune Erikson, who delves into a mysterious world shaded with intrigue and deceit. Coloured by romance and eroticism, this torrid adventure lures him off his sailing ketch Valhalla in Victoria's Fisherman's Wharf into the maelstrom hidden within the veils of Hawaiian myths and legends of the smouldering tropical Kona coast.

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about the book      about the author      sample chapters and excerpts      Coming Soon: The Secret Temple of Kintamani      catalogue info

About the Book

Follow the intrigue as this sizzling beach book takes you on a red-hot adventure from Victoria on Vancouver Island to Kailua-Kona on the tropical Big Island of Hawaii. Witness the encounters, the likes of which you have never seen, with the goddess Pele who lives in the Kilauea volcano.
The pristine coral sea of the Hawaiian Island's Humpback Whale National Marine Sanctuary is rocked by a mysterious explosive eruption at Keahole Point on Hawaii's exotic Kona coast. The ecology of the sea and the ordinary lives of the inhabitants of the small town of Kailua Kona are tossed into turmoil. A series of accidents occur, leading to suggestions of murder.

Kiana Kilolani, a beautiful but demure Hawaiian schoolteacher, is plagued with daunting daytime apparitions and haunting nightmares. She fears she is slowly going mad as these spectres persist. Her alter ego entices men with soul-searing kisses. Or is it her alter-ego? Her impeccable reputation in the town is in danger of being eroded. She is in the prime of her life and yet, is afraid for her life.

Chung Min-Ho, a greedy ex-North Korean marine commando who got his start as a ruthless entrepreneur by defecting with a Shark-class submarine, looms menacingly. He and his company, Global Sea Marine, keep turning up like bad pennies.

Manny Manetti, a comical, small-time marina operator, has big-time ambitions - he has wheeled and dealed his way into a SeaTruck submersible dealership.

Kimo Kekuna, Hawaiian Chief and a former Navy SEAL who served in Central America and Desert Storm operations, gets involved to help his former buddy with this baffling mystery.

Dr. Sarah Leikaina, volcanologist, rock climber and a SeaTruck submersible pilot exploring the deep vents off Vancouver Island and Hawaii, erotically tantalizes men with her voluptuous body and passionate kisses.

Rune Erikson, of Norwegian descent and formerly in the service of a shadowy government communications agency, is lured off his sailing ship, the ketch Valhalla, in Victoria's Fisherman's Wharf by the subterfuge of a former colleague. Rune is sucked into the vortex of this intrigue that is scented with the myths and legends of Hawaiian culture, quickly falling into the erotic embrace of the strikingly-beautiful Hawaiian volcanologist.

About the Author

Ernie Palamarek has recently had feature articles published in magazines and has several major works in progress including the second of a series of Rune Erikson novels to be set in exotic locations around the world.

Having grown up in the saddle, ranching and farming on the Alberta prairie, he has a keen appreciation for nature's wondrous beauty and its amazing resiliency that counters the eggshell fragility of the environment. Combining his eye for detail with a vivid imagination, he roams the world in search of unique experiences - to listen, to observe and to talk to wonderfully-different people in strange, exotic lands.

He experiences the adventure and journeys through life with his photographer wife, Sharon, who shares his passion for travel. He has worked in public relations for a major newspaper, in a private research and development laboratory, in his own businesses and in the service of a government agency.

The author has lived in Victoria, British Columbia since he was twenty years old. Vancouver Island, a wonderful, temperate rainforest in the Pacific Ocean, is his back yard.

Thundersea is Palamarek's first novel.

Sample Chapters and Excerpts

CHAPTER ONE VALKYRIE

FISHERMAN'S WHARF, VICTORIA, BRITISH COLUMBIA. She came softly down to me enshrouded in a shimmering veil of mist and a luminescent halo. We were brought together by some unearthly force of hers; I felt completely powerless. Embracing me with unbridled passion, her energy flowed between us, now unimpeded by distance. Her delicately-scented, ivory body intertwined with mine. I was overcome with desire as her silky, long red hair cascaded over my wondrous face. Fine flashes of blue sparks crackled in the dim misty light, jolting our bodies as her firm breasts brushed my bare chest. Her long fingernails raked my back. Soft slender fingers caressed my neck. She spoke into my ear with a sensual whisper, in a foreign tongue that I was struggling to understand, yet couldn't. But I could feel her revelations flowing through me as pulsing libidinous thoughts and spiritual sensations and now I could understand. Her moist lips met mine. My body relaxed and surrendered totally as I felt myself melting and flowing as one with her. We rose together, borne upon a misty swell of sultry softness. I would have gone with her this time, I desperately wanted to go with her, and if it was not for the intrusion upon my senses, I would not have come down from those ethereal heights.

It was the slight creak of the rigging as the ship rolled gently at my Fisherman's Wharf berth that woke me this hot autumn afternoon. A boat passing through the channel had set up a series of small waves that bulged through this motley collection of sailing ships, power yachts, fishing vessels, packers, crabbers, house boats and float homes tied to the slips. I had been having a nap in my hammock which was strung topside near the wheelhouse in an area between the two masts aboard my 65-foot ketch Valhalla. I was having the most beautiful dream again. A dream about an exotically-beautiful woman with a curvaceous body and long flaming-red hair. It was October. I was taking full advantage of the last vestiges of Indian summer - we had one overnight frost already - before the rains of November would be beating down upon us in this temperate rainforest on Vancouver Island.

Slowly opening my eyes, I waited for them to focus, then looked up through the rigging into the deep blue of the darkening sky. Lying there, I tried to come to terms with my erotic dream, trying to make some sense of it, wishing that I was still there, wherever there was.

This latest vivid dream aboard the Valhalla unnerved me; it seemed to be very real. It ragged on my mind like a missing piece of an intricate puzzle while it was being filed within the recesses of my memory to be fast-forwarded back into my thoughts at some inopportune moment at a later date. Yawning after my nap, I carefully rolled out of the hammock, my bare feet hitting the warm wooden deck. I yawned again, stretched and looked toward the west. The hot afternoon sun had just settled below the Sooke hills on the horizon, leaving behind a swatch of glorious clouds with brush-strokes of red, gold and orange. Moving unsteadily, I stretched my tightened muscles. I turned around and watched as a scattering of lights came on in the portholes of other boats tied up nearby. And farther down Fisherman's Wharf, at finger one, the larger windows of the float homes were ablaze with reflection from the fiery sunset. Beyond were the hotels and restaurants ringing the Inner Harbour. There was the Coast Hotel, then the Laurel Point Inn and beyond, just around the point, the Empress Hotel sat regally above the causeway at the far end of the harbour. To my left, the red light of the buoy marking the rock in the channel flickered on and off.

Clumsily, I made my way into the wheelhouse and stumbled down the companionway to the saloon. Something drew me over to my library. Taking down my ancient leather-bound dictionary from the bookcase on the bulkhead, I went over to the galley, held it up under the light and flipped the thin onionskin pages as I searched for the word. I read the notation for Valhalla. Then a phrase "borne by the Valkyries" leapt out at me from the text. Then Odin. My fingers flipped back to the O section, then down past Odesa to Odin and read: "In ancient Norse mythology, the god (a supreme deity) of art, culture, war, and the dead." Hurriedly, I fingered my way down the column until I came across the word Valkyrie. I read: "In ancient Norse mythology, one of certain maidens who ride the air currents and choose the heroes from among those combatants slain in battle, and who are then borne by her to Valhalla (the great hall of the dead); chooser of the slain." This raised the hair on the nape of my neck. Could the exotic woman in my dreams be a Valkyrie? And what did it mean if she was? Did it mean that I was dead or close to death? That I had a near-death experience? If it did, death was going to be wonderful, I thought morbidly. Or was it simply 'la petite morte' - what the French sometimes call the act of love? I shivered in the cool of the evening, trying to come to terms with what all this meant. These Valkyries were maidens who rode through the air and chose only the bravest of the heroes from amongst those slain in battle. I certainly felt battle-weary after having been in the international service of my country for what seemed to be an eternity but in reality was a relatively lesser number of stressful years that hardly qualified me for an inadequate pension. During those times I had indeed felt like I was dying. In Valhalla, these heroes were received by the god Odin where they would start an even more glorious life of feasting, carousing and doing battle.

Puzzled, I tried to envision the angelic woman of my dreams again. Her face, her windswept hair, and her voluptuous body seemed to be so familiar, somehow more familiar than just in my dreams. Then it struck me! I scrambled topside, hurried through the wheelhouse, along the deck and down the gangway onto the dock where I rushed forward to the bow of the Valhalla. There she was! Right under the bowsprit! She was the carved wooden figurehead! Startled, I reeled, stumbling backwards. Goose-bumps rose on my forearms. In the twilight, I stared slack-jawed at her lovely hewn curves and painted figure. It was her! The woman of my dreams. She was the Valkyrie! Stunned by this revelation, I slowly made my way back up the gangway, on board and down below. As I passed through the saloon, out of habit, I flipped a Stan Getz CD into the stereo. In the galley I looked through the larder, trying to plan my supper but was distracted by my thoughts. Shivering, I didn't know if it was from this latest revelation or just from the chill of the evening air. I went back into the saloon, crumpled up a section of the Times-Colonist newspaper and put it and some kindling into the small fireplace. Taking a few logs from the wood bin, I arranged them on top of the kindling. I got a wooden match from the holder on the mantle, struck it on the hearth and set the paper aflame. Soon a bright and cheery glow of warmth settled into the saloon as the flames took hold. That would take care of the chill.

Going back into the galley, I turned my attention to the cold food locker and pulled out some chilled fresh salmon that I had just purchased off one of the fishing boats earlier in the afternoon. I turned the oven on to heat. A nice hot rum after my meal. That's what I really need to warm me, I thought. Opening the liquor cabinet in the saloon, I selected a bottle of Cockspur light rum from Barbados for later. I retrieved a small bottle of wine from the wine rack for now. Throwing a salad together as I baked the salmon in the oven, I poured a glass of the Okanagan Valley Riesling wine to go with the fish. Corcovado (Quiet Nights of Quiet Stars) was playing. Astrud Gilberto's sultry voice was accompanied by Stan Getz's mellifluous tenor sax. Dining by myself is not something that I enjoy, so I try to make the best of it. In any case, I had a reception to attend later tonight. It was one which I had promised my old friend, Coop - a marine biologist - that I would be attending. Laying out the linen and the silverware, I didn't bother with candlelight. Unless the electricity has gone out or if my lamp is out of fuel when berthed or moored someplace remote, I reserve that special effect when I have female guests. And lately I have had none. Or did I? I mulled this over as I slowly ate my supper. Stan Getz's jazz rendition of I'm in Love surrounded me. Later, I put the kettle on and got out a stout mug. Finishing with the ingredients of the rum toddy, I took a cautious sip. Perfect! I thought as I went into the saloon, sat in my favourite chair and put my feet up. I hunted down the remote, retrieved it from the side of the cushion where it had slid down, then flicked the TV on to channel 50 to catch the latest happenings on CTV News1. ". . . those were the results of the latest poll in Quebec. He dejectedly commented that he really didn't think much of the polls in this case, that it was the polling booths that really mattered and that one day there would be a majority - of one!" Then a news flash was broadcast. "This just in. Moments ago there was an explosive eruption just offshore of the Kona International Airport on the Big Island of Hawaii. First reports indicate that the explosive eruption was of sufficient force to cause some damage to the surrounding area. We have a crew from the local TV station, KSEA channel 4, on the scene. Stay tuned for a live feed later from Hawaii." Hmm, I thought. I flicked the remote, landing on CNN. ". . . that was according to the president who later commented that contrary to that old saying, sometimes life is indeed a bed of roses - thorns and all! . . . Now with late-breaking news from the Big Island of Hawaii. Early unconfirmed reports show that there was what has been described as an 'explosive eruption' in the sea next to the Kona International Airport. There has been some peripheral onshore damage reported. We will have a live report from there as soon as possible. In the meantime, stay tuned as we will be having updates as they occur. Meanwhile, in Iraq . . . " I flipped channels over to the CBC on channel 2. ". . . in answer to some challenges during question period in the house today, he stated that while he did 'approve of salt pork', he asked you to 'take this latest protest incident with a grain of salt but I do not approve of pork barreling, nor peppering reporters, for that matter!' he hastily added to much laughter from the benches behind him." They had nothing new to add. I flipped back to channel 50 where CTV News1 still did not have their live feed from Hawaii. Oh well! I'll keep tuned in as the evening wears on, I thought. I took another sip from my rum toddy and got up to wash the few dishes that I had. "We now have that live feed from Carrie Kahakua, KSEA - TV, channel 4 news direct by satellite from the Big Island of Hawaii where an explosive eruption has occurred in the sea just off the Kona International airport." I glanced up from putting the dishes away, grabbed my hot toddy, went into the saloon, and sat on the arm of the sofa, my attention now totally focused upon the news report on CTV News1. "Good evening from the Big Island of Hawaii. Just minutes ago we experienced an explosive eruption in the waters just off Keahole Point. Keahole Point is where the Kona International Airport and the adjacent Solar/Sea Energy and Aquaculture/Agriculture Lab complex is located. The SSEAAL complex, as it is called, and the Kona International airport, where we are right now, are just seven miles north up the coast of the town of Kailua-Kona. We are on the tarmac just outside the arrivals area. In the background you can see emergency equipment and personnel helping passengers evacuate Pacific Northwest's flight 1204 from Seattle which was just landing when the explosion occurred, sending the plane skidding out of control and nosing it onto the lava beds upon which this airport was built. The different noises you hear in the background are from the hundreds of car alarms that had been set off as a result of the shock force that also blew through the car parking lot. The main terminal's alarms had been activated as well but first reports are that they were accidentally set off. Our cameraman, John Lukeala, was taping the arrival of an advance team from the mainland. They are going to handle details in order to help us host the upcoming World Oceanic Organization's Pollution of the Seas conference, WOOPS for short, which starts later this month in our town of Kailua and at the adjacent SSEAAL complex. We will roll some unedited video shot as the explosive force occurred. Can you roll it now? Okay! Here is that unedited video clip from earlier: 'I am standing out on the tarmac waiting for the advance team to arrive for a conference on pollution of the seas later this month. We have been told that in a significant portion of the Pacific Ocean, plankton, which forms the foundation link of the food chain, are disappearing. Although scientists are unsure of the cause, they tell us that human pollution is one of the major factors, with about three-quarters of a million gallons of toxic chemicals being dumped into the oceans each year! These pollutants run the gamut from industrial chemicals such as PCB's, pesticides and fertilizers to city sewage and the crankcase oil that some backyard oil changers dump down their drains. This is a contributing factor in the ecological upheaval in these oceans which causes them to lose the ability to generate the oxygen upon which life in the oceans depend. Oxygen is released from carbon dioxide during photosynthesis. This oxygen is normally released into the biosphere. Some scientists have even said that the oceans, the cradle of all life here on earth, are dying. While this may sound . . .'" The TV reporter's live voice cut in. ". . . Okay, here you can see the jet landing normally, braking and using its reverse thrusters. There! You can see the camera jiggle. The plane starts to swerve and veer out of control. The shots here are difficult to see as the cameraman was thrown to the tarmac along with his camera. Here he gets back up on one knee to resume filming. You can get just a glimpse of me in the lower left corner of your picture trying to stand up after having been blown off my feet. The video is quite shaky but you can still see the plane skidding then see its nosewheel run onto the lava beds as it came to a rocking halt. It's a tribute to the captain and to the makers of the jumbo jet that there wasn't a more catastrophic situation here. We're now back with a live, long-distance shot. All of us here were thrown to the ground as the shockwave hit, both through the air and along the ground. There appear to be some injuries among the passengers who slid down the slides - bruises and scrapes and so on - no doubt some of them WOOPS team members, but no reports yet of anything more than that. We are now noticing that smoke is coming from the plane's landing gear and firefighters are frantically trying to control that. We're not sure if there are flames but there is definitely smoke and increasingly so! At the moment, we are still unsure of the magnitude of the damage and exactly what it is that occurred here without warning. At this point it is pure speculation that there may have been a dangerous-goods ship explode offshore or perhaps some type of underwater volcanic action that may have resulted in an earthquake and a shockwave. Some are even speculating that we took a direct hit from a small meteor. There are streaks of mist in the sea and on the land further along the coast toward the town of Kailua-Kona and up Mount Hualalai but they don't appear to have come from the SSEAAL complex itself. We will have further reports on damage as they come in. In the meantime we will try to get closer to the damaged Pacific Northwest plane to bring you more detailed coverage. This is Carrie Kahakua, KSEA, channel 4 reporting live from the Big Island of Hawaii."

"There you have the dramatic footage and the live report of the mysterious explosive eruption from Keahole Point in Hawaii. Stay tuned for further reports as they come in," intoned the news anchor from CTV News1. I flipped over to CNN but they too had just finished what appeared to have been the same live telecast from Kona International Airport.

My mind wandered back to the invitation to tonight's reception. My friend Jonas Cooper, the marine biologist, had phoned me a couple days ago. "Where have you been hiding?" Coop had asked. "I haven't seen you in some time." "Well, I've been extremely busy lately what with one thing and another . . . " "Rune Erikson!" Coop admonished, "you should get out more often! How would you like to attend the unveiling of a black smoker?" "A black smoker? I don't think so, I've stopped going to those sorts of things years ago, Coop. They're so juvenile!" "No! No! It's not what you think, you ignoramus!" he laughed. "My wife is coming with me too! For your information, a black smoker is actually a chimney-like structure of built-up minerals on the sea floor. It is through these newly-discovered natural structures which hot volcanic fluids are vented as distinctive plumes and minerals dispersed into the surrounding area on the seabed. And we got a new one! It's got traces of some new mineral. We're putting it on display in the atrium at ORCA. We brought it up from the depths of the Juan de Fuca Ridge. You know, from the undersea thermal vents 500 kilometers off Vancouver Island, the ones I was telling you about." "Oh! You mean where you guys, well really, the girls and you, found those tube worms and all." "Yeah, that's the place! And don't make an issue out of the sexist thing. We're all equal at what we do. We're a team." "Yeah, well, I'd rather have them on my team than you! They're a whole lot prettier!" "So, does that mean you'll be coming then?" "Sounds good, I'll be there hotshot." I glanced out the porthole. It was pitch dark now save for the wharf lights and the little dots of soft yellow lights here and there that leaked out from the other boats. I went across the saloon, up the companionway, into the wheelhouse and peered out, seeing hazy stars overhead despite the glow from the lights of the city of Victoria. Going out on deck, I made my way to the bow where I looked eastward. A huge, brilliant harvest moon was just starting to emerge, rising quickly from behind lofty Mount Baker in Washington state. A wide yellow moonbeam was reflected onto the calm waters of the Inner Harbour. It would be a nice moonlit drive out to the reception at Patricia Bay out on the Saanich peninsula tonight. I turned around. To the immediate west, the pale yellow lights of Esquimalt. Farther to the west, the lights from the stately Hatley Castle in Colwood and the posh homes of Triangle mountain rising behind it, twinkled from across Royal bay. A necklace of magenta sky adorned the black, rolling crowns of the silhouetted Sooke hills as the evening settled onto Vancouver Island. This too was Heaven!

EXCERPT: Chapter ten, Page 110 "Ah! We can leave some for your friend Logan on the Grumpy II in case of a sudden downturn in the market," Sarah joked. "We will! And it's also supposed to be good for . . . for, uh, I can't remember . . . uh, let's see . . . forgetfulness, that's it!" "We'll take it right into our old age!" Sarah fairly glowed as she said it without immediately realizing what she had so presumptuously implied. She suddenly became quiet. Our orders arrived just then, breaking the awkward silence and bursting the bubbles of intruding thoughts around us.

"Will you stay the night?" I asked back aboard ship as we sat in the saloon, finishing off that bottle of wine from before. She replied with a soft whisper, " Yes, I was hoping you'd ask. But I don't have anything to wear to Chung's cocktail party tomorrow." "Don't worry. Tomorrow I'll get a car and we'll drive out to your place in Sidney and get them." "Okay." I picked her up and carried her aft, into the master cabin. I gently laid her upon the faux-fur spread that covers my custom-fitted oval bed at the stern. I reached over and switched the dim light off as we slipped out of our clothes. I opened the short woven-wood blinds that covered the sections of small square windows that were set in the transom, letting square shafts of moonlight fall at a raked angle upon her beautiful naked body. She was seemingly bathed in a golden aureole. Her long black hair was fanned out in a halo-like fashion about her. Her creamy skin rippled to my light touch. She looked at me with her dreamy almond eyes as I reveled in her natural beauty, caressing every soft curve. She moaned softly and drew me to her. I joined her in the golden shaft of moonlight as a chugging tugboat passing up the middle of the channel sent gentle waves rippling through us and set the Valhalla into a rhythmic rocking motion.

Coming Soon:

THE SECRET TEMPLE OF KINTAMANI

Catalogue Information