This is the latest excerpt from The Storm of Northreach, the sequel to The Curse of Troius, due out sometime in 2011. As of now, this is unedited, since I wrote it yesterday afternoon. It may reflect that fact. But it does give an idea of what the novels are like without giving anything away, since this the former minstrel Ternn’s first appearance anywhere. Enjoy! Or hate it. I can’t tell you what to do. But you can tell me what you think.
The pouring rain ran in a sheet down Ternn’s seamed and pinched face. He clenched his arms protectively the crude clay jug pressed against the sodden fraying remnants of his shirt. He staggered down the half-flooded road, plodding obliviously through the rank water that had risen from the lowest channels of the refuse canals that cut through the Gutters. At this point, he would have waded through a knee-deep pool of the city’s collected shit in order to reach his favored spot, now that he’d gotten his hands on enough of Icar’s rotgut to keep him in a stupor for a few days. With his treasure, he’d be able to keep the memories haunting him at bay for a little while longer. Read the rest of this entry
Another unedited sneak peek at my current project. This time, a new character! Excitement! Thrills! CRAVAT-ADJUSTING! Are you not entertained?!
The man with the golden key frowned as he examined the intricate gears and mechanisms inches from his nose. His eyes narrowed behind the glass of his gold-rimmed spectacles as they searched for anything out of place in the workings of the Gnarri-made machine. He eyed the coils and cogs and gears, making sure no tooth looked worn or scratched or pitted and that every pin and post was straight and sturdy. Only then did he place the thin key inside its dedicated slot. His fingers, though thick, manipulated the thin metal gently, almost lovingly, and a faint smile lifted the thin lips that normally rested in a sedate and calm downturn. Read the rest of this entry
Before I finished the end, I looped back to the beginning.
The tree branch digging into his buttocks was uncomfortable, but Ajen was barely conscious of that now. He had planned to give Alys a little scare when she arrived for their tryst on Dane’s Knoll by climbing up the massive silver-barked tree that rose from it. When she arrived, he was going to let her mill about the trunk for a time, let her build up a good bit of worry, then leap down and surprise her. He’d anticipated getting a good slap out of it, but she’d be grateful for arms to wrap around her and make her feelings of fright go away. Read the rest of this entry
Possible title change? You bet! As always, unedited and probably bad.
To the east of Northreach Town and Tower, one of the Baron’s subjects, a man Rig Anders had never met and now would never get the chance to stumbled along in the slogging mud and rain. Mogedin Vane, Mog to most of the residents of Pellslook while they yet lived, Boggy Moggy to his closest friends due to an unfortunate incident as a youth, leaned far forward as he half-ran and half-stumbled along, perpetually on the verge of pitching forward and using that momentum to carry him forward. From time to time he overdid it, pitching onto his face and putting another coat of mud on his already-caked body. At least the wet ground was soft, since he was unwilling to use his arms to keep his face out of the muck during the inevitable times he stumbled and fell. Read the rest of this entry
From yesterday’s output:
After an interminable score of heartbeats, Beans appeared with Crumb’s arm slung over his shoulders, supporting the man’s weight as they staggered down the short set of stairs from the inn’s door. Crumb had his large, hairy-knuckled hand pressed tightly against his neck as his thick lips moved in what seemed like a never-ending stream of curses. Villios could see the slow ebb of blood seeping through the man’s fingers and was thankful – a pierced artery would be doing much more than just seeping. Read the rest of this entry
The rain sizzled into a hissing cloud of steam as it struck the remaining embers of what had once been a temple. The grounds, once sanctified in the name of Ban, were now a charnel pit, blackened bones covered in gobbets of charred flesh poking from the wreckage like the thorns of a nightmare. Read the rest of this entry
Kurgen and Turgeson stood at sloppy attention in the barren antechamber in front of what was known as the corporal’s office. They could hear him scribbling away at something at his desk while they stood quietly waiting. The corporal’s page, named Page, smirked insolently at them as he leaned against a wall. The twelve-year-old boy was the insufferable understudy of their commanding officer, and many a night the brothers had drunkenly come up with ways to torture the ever-present smirk off the brat’s face. Read the rest of this entry
New material time! Again, not edited, probably bad.
Lieutenant Villios called the troop to a halt at Boulden’s gesture. He told the sergeants to get their troops armored and ready, then moved over to where the commander was looking over the map of Northreach with Herndin. Boulden’s thick-knuckled finger was settled on a spot north of Anticus, labeled in a spidery hand with the name of Brethford.
“That’s it,” the commander said, “first place we’ve reached that the Baron’s boy mentioned as a possibility. We might not find a damn thing, in fact that’s what I‘m hoping for. But I want to be ready for anything.” Read the rest of this entry
Insert standard disclaimer of no editing here.
Dam surveyed the wreckage that his home had become. As he’d feared, his slide into the canyon had made it impossible for him to give warning to his fellow villagers in time, and devastation looked complete. The temple had burned, taking the nearby houses with it, and from the quantity of blackened corpses within the smoking ruin, it looked like most of the village had burned inside with it. Read the rest of this entry