Graeme Rodaughan's Blog: Writing The Metaframe War Series, page 7

Classy Book Review of A Subtle Agency

By Sheila {She's Going Book Crazy}

4 Star Review is here

Sheila is making a go of book reviewing at her website at shesgoingbookcrazy

I would recommend showing her some support by visiting her site.

A Traitor's War - Published

Hi All,

The 2nd instalment of the Metaframe War is now available at Amazon.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B06ZZ8ZLKD

And in paperback at CreateSpace at https://www.createspace.com/7046698

Within 5 days, paperbacks should also be available at Amazon.

Enjoy.

A Traitor's War: First Draft Completed.

First draft is complete. Came in at around 95K words. About 240 pages of prose.

Is it good - it's damn good.

Early reviewers are reporting back that this instalment is better than A Subtle Agency, with more suspense, more drama and more blood soaked violence.

Not for the faint hearted.

Now moving into intensive review, polish, and production activities. I'm currently ahead of schedule for a late April release date.

[Insert F-Bomb here] Excited!

95% complete now on A Traitor's War, due for release later this month.

For anyone who liked A Subtle Agency, you'll love A Traitor's War.

I can honestly say this is my best work so far. Compared to A Subtle Agency, the writing is tighter and more immediate. Key characters are fleshed out and given more depth.

The bottom line - the story kicks ass and totally delivers on drama and action.

I'm completely stoked with how the story has come together. I will be spending a lot of time over the next three weeks to bring this to the finish line and into the hands of my readers.

My readers are what make this exciting, and I'm looking forward to giving them the next installment in The Metaframe War series.

FREE Kindle Promotion - 24th to 26th March 2017

Hi All,

A Subtle Agency is available for FREE from the 24th to 26th March 2017 US Pacific time.

I rarely run free promotions - this weekend is the best time to pick up this book for free.

The main US link is here. If that doesn't satisfy your needs, you can usually easily navigate to your home Amazon site with a single click.

If you happen to enjoy my book, please support an indie author by writing a review.

Happy reading.

Cheers Graeme

A Traitor's War Covers

Yes (fist pumps...). The covers are now available.

Kindle.



Paperback.



Still targeting release at the end of April 2017.

My Review of Bram Stoker's Dracula

Dracula by Bram Stoker

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


I'm finding this review difficult to write.

It's been a long time between blood red drinks with this novel. I've read it once before, many years ago, and my response to re-reading it is to drop it from 5 stars to 4.

Stoker's writing style is an uneven mix of brilliance and tedium. His plot development ranges from magnificent to flawed.

His drawing of characters is basically two dimensional and I have to search hard to find examples that provide a greater depth. (I.e. characters are either all good, or all evil, with little in the way of shades of grey. Noting that Renfield, is by his final actions, one of the few characters that shows dimensionality....)

I know some who found the beginning slow. I would disagree. I found the initial journey of Jonathan Harker to Dracula's castle and his subsequent trials and tribulations there to be brilliantly composed narrative. There is a slow and steady progression from hints to warnings to threats to manifest risk of death and worse than death enslavement of the soul to forces beyond darkness.

The visual depictions of Dracula descending the vertical walls of his castle and the spooky manifestation of Dracula's brides is effective and affective writing.

The log of the Demeter is another masterwork of the slow advance of impending doom. The hint of a threat that grows with each night as one by one the crew disappear. Until it is a ghost ship that comes to land in Whitby, Yorkshire. This is manifest brilliance.

To say that Lucy Westenra cops it in the neck would be a bit trite. Her eventual fate left me inspired to write a Haiku.

Bloofer lady prowls.
Moonlight reveals blood stained hearts.
Hammer strikes - I'm Free!

Mina Harker (the primary hero of this story as she is the one who has to confront the greatest risk and persevere beyond it) is the brains (on multiple occasions) behind the operations of the Van Helsing Vampire Hunting Club.

Mina gets left behind while the boys go galavanting about Carfax looking for evidence of Vlad and when the obvious happens - no one notices. It's a raging plot flaw (i.e. Major hero gets in trouble because everyone is suddenly as thick as two short planks) I hadn't noticed in my earlier read. I must be getting pickier about such things as I get older...

I would also like to note that Stoker's use of a psychic connection between Mina and Dracula is strikingly echoed in multiple ways by J.K. Rowling with Harry and Voldemort. I think also for the same purpose, as the psychic link is used to move the narrative forward in both Dracula and the Potter books.

Some things I didn't like which got in the way of the telling.

The use of vernacular by anyone not in the Van Helsing Vampire Hunting Club such as "'ere like tha'..." Was positively grating.

Van Helsing's speech was mostly annoying for the same reason as we are asked to 'appreciate' that this learned dutchman can't speak grammatical English...

On the question of writing the whole novel in epistolary form (letters, diary notes, log books, etc). I think it works very well for this novel. However, something could be missing. What I would like to see is a great big diary written by Vlad Dracula...

The bottom line: I love the story but I don't always love how it was written. Would I recommend it? Yes. Well worth reading for those moments of brilliance that have carried this story for more than a century.



View all my reviews

(Torture Scene) Too disturbing? Request for comment.

I have a torture scene in chapter five of A traitor's War. Initial feedback suggests that it is a "bit disturbing".

I would welcome some feedback on this. The violence in the scene is well contexted to the story, and the genre is Urban Fantasy/Techno-Thriller.

Is the scene over the top? About right? Could be more full on?

Is the scene a reading turn-off, if you read this scene, would you stop reading the book?

Thanks in advance.

* * *

The Red Empire assassin had been crucified on an X-shaped frame. The raw steel frame stood within a bare open space. The floor was polished concrete, the ceiling and walls lost in darkness. Illumination was provided by a single modern lantern resting a dozen feet in front of the frame.

The assassin’s eyes flickered open as he regained consciousness. He gasped in pain. Metal spikes had been driven through his feet, knees, elbows and hands. He had been pinned to the frame like an exotic butterfly to a piece of corkboard. But unlike an insect in a collection - he was still very much alive.

Emerging from the shadows, General Haras Mosule said, ‘I see that you have returned to us.’

He carried a squat, gray, ceramic urn. It was fat bodied with a narrow neck. He placed it on the floor next to the lantern. ‘I have grown tired of hunting you and your ilk. You are the unlucky one to be caught just when my patience has become exhausted.’

‘Traitor! I will give you nothing,’ The assassin shouted.

Haras frowned and said, ‘We will see if an ancient pet of the Red Empire changes your mind.’

The assassin’s gaze focused on the urn. His skin paled, his eyes widened, and he whispered incredulously, ‘Olgoi Khorkhoi?’

‘Yes, Al Far,’ Haras said calmly. ‘A Mongolian death worm.’

Al Far shuddered on the cross. His hands clenching spasmodically. Fresh blood dripped from his wrists and splattered on the concrete.

Haras smiled briefly, shaking his head gently. ‘I have recently fed, you will not distract me with such a display.’

Al Far rallied, his eyes narrowing. ‘It’s a trick. That urn is too small to hold a worm.’

‘You are right,’ Haras said, nodding. His eyes gleamed in the lantern light. ‘It’s too small to hold even a young juvenile worm.’

Haras pulled a thick, black, rubber glove from behind his belt and stretched it over his right hand. The glove reached up to his elbow, he flexed his fingers in front of his face, making sure that the glove fitted perfectly and was free of holes. He knew exactly how dangerous a Mongolian death worm was to human or vampire. The venom of an adult worm could kill a man in seconds and a vampire in minutes. Just touching the skin of a death worm was hideously painful. The larval form was without venom, but it’s touch was as agonizing as an adult. For the purpose of interrogation, the larval form was far more useful than an adult worm.

Haras unlocked the lid, lifting it slowly and carefully off the urn. His gloved hand blurred down into the urn’s neck. His arm vibrated and thrashed as he hunted the worm. Fine sand sprayed across the concrete floor as he jerked his hand free. In his grip writhed a pale worm, an oversized maggot, two inches thick and nine inches long. It’s maw gaped open, revealing a trilateral arrangement of curved black fangs. Lines of smaller teeth disappeared in rows down its throat. Its tail ended in a hard nub, the immature form of a deadly sting.

Haras approached the assassin, putting the worm a hand span in front of Al Far’s eyes. The larva responded by straining in Haras’ grip, repeatedly lunging at the man’s face.

Haras leaned in and whispered, ‘A freshly hatched larva.’

Al Far moaned, pulling his head back as far as he could.

‘This one is hungry,’ Haras said. ‘He hasn’t been fed for days. I think he’s quite starved, the poor thing.’

‘Tanin al Layl - you and the vampires will never win.’

Haras snorted. ‘You know my old name. I haven’t been called the Night Dragon for more than a century.’

Al Far ground out the words. ‘The Red Empire never forgets.’

Haras’ eyes narrowed.

Al Far stared at Haras, and vowed, ‘And we never forgive.’

Haras smiled grimly. ‘You should worry about yourself first.’ He pushed the worm closer, to within an inch of Al Far’s eyes. ‘Where is the location of the Red Empire Citadel? Tell me now and the worm goes back in the urn.’

Al Far shook his head, his lips pressed tightly together.

‘I will kill you quickly.’

The assassin shook his head again.

Haras hummed, shrugged his shoulders and took a step back.

Al Far glared at him in silence.

Haras ripped Al Far’s tunic open, baring his chest and stomach. He dangled the worm in front of Al Far’s abdomen and said, ‘They like the soft flesh best. It takes a long time to die when they enter there.’

The worm writhed and twisted. Its powerful muscles rippling under it’s skin. It turned and snapped at Haras’ fingers. He jerked his hand back. Grinning ruefully, he re-established a sure grip on the larva.

Haras said knowingly, ‘You will tell me in the end.’

‘Never,’ snapped Al Far.

Haras slapped the worm onto Al Far’s stomach. In less than a second fresh blood splashed on the floor and the worm disappeared into the assassin’s abdomen. Al Far’s eyes rolled upward and he screamed in agony.

Haras stepped away. The bare skin over Al Far’s torso writhed, several ribs cracked loudly as the assassin's body bucked on the frame. The bloody head of the worm emerged for a moment, its maw working, clearing meat and gristle before looping over to burrow back into the man’s body.

Haras allowed the worm to feast for another ten seconds as Al Far shrieked and cried out. His hand blurred forward like a knife through the first entry wound and with a loud sucking sound he pulled the blood drenched worm free from Al Far’s body. The worm, slick with blood, whipped back and forth in Haras’ iron grip.

Al Far gasped and moaned in relief.

Haras leaned in close and whispered. ‘Where is the Citadel?’

Al Far whispered a few words and then convulsed, blood pouring from his mouth. Haras grinned, a hard light in his eyes. He knew just where the Red Empire Citadel was hidden in Jerusalem. His long search was at an end.

He replaced the death worm larva back into the urn and closed the lid. Carefully locking it tight.

It is time to use the newly recruited praetorians against the Red Empire, he thought decisively. We will see how their modern weapons and tactics go against our ancient foe.

Haras picked up the urn and disappeared into the darkness. He left the pinned corpse of the Red Empire assassin dripping blood onto the concrete floor.

Cast & Crew

Well actually just the cast. It's fun to muse who could play the characters given a fat budget and a green light.

In order of appearance.

Ahknaton - Peter Mensah
Hakron - Ben Kingsley (in his younger days)
Mekra - Kandyse McClure

Chloe Armitage - Charliez Theron (as a brunette)
Marcus Drake - Chris Helmsworth

Anton Slayne - Kit Harington (with blue eyes)

William Slayne - Ben Affleck
Anna Slayne - Naomi Watts

James Haley - Liev Schreiber
Louise Wesson - Jennifer Garner

Cornelius Crane - Clive Owen

Haras Mosule - Antonio Banderas

Gang Wu - Donnie Yen
Li Wu - Rinko Kikuchi

Dalien Morte - Eric Bana

Francis Mirovar - Luke Evans
Juliette Mirovar - Juliette Binoche
Yvette Mirovar - Katie Cassidy
Chiara Romano - Jessica Alba
Jay Creeley - Ryan Reynolds
Peter Lamb - Jack Black

When the Vampire Dominion needs new recruits

Use the Panopticon to identify a Black Ops Special Forces team on a mission in Aleppo and vector a unit of the Syrian Army onto their position.

(Note: Harsh language ahead).

The rest follows.

Half a dozen or more AK-47s fired on full auto, the bullets ripping through the wooden crates in the Aleppo warehouse. Cemal, the team’s Kurdish guide, rocked backward and slumped to the ground; the top half his skull splashed across the crates.

Captain John Tilson and his team of special forces operatives were pinned down in the warehouse. The Syrian Army had shown up ten seconds ago and had opened fire as soon as contact was made. He was already two men down. Carter and Woodstock were being dragged back by the rest of the team. They had come in by truck from the town of Reyhanli, 45 miles away, across the border in Turkey. There had been rock solid intelligence that a chemical weapons cache was stored in this warehouse. The mission was simple, identify and record the weapons, and then destroy them.

That mission had been shot to hell. The new mission was equally simple - survive.

‘Back to the truck,’ John yelled. His men didn’t need any urging. They fought their way back to the other end of the warehouse where the truck waited, engine idling.

Sargent Smith, John's 2IC, pumped a grenade toward the Syrians and followed it with a burst from his H&K 416 rifle. The grenade exploded. Men shrieked and cursed, and the hail of bullets from the Syrians lessened for a moment.

‘Call in a drone strike.’ John said firmly as he loaded a fresh mag, and zig zagged back past another crate, bullets whizzing overhead.

Smith ducked and ran beside him. ‘Damn comms are down.’

‘What the hell?’ John asked.

'We’re being jammed.’ Smith said, his face bleak.

‘It’s a fucking trap.’ John growled, turning up and over the crate next to him, he emptied his clip at the advancing Syrians. Two collapsed and the rest dodged to the sides.

Smith cursed, ‘What a clusterfuck.’

John shook his head with dismay. ‘Someone’s trying to get us killed. The mission’s compromised, we need to exfiltrate now.’

The truck’s wheels smoked as it suddenly lurched backward toward the team. It smashed though crates of dry goods, spilling bags of rice across the concrete floor.

‘Quickly now,’ John shouted, urging his team forward.

Two of his men carried the wounded over their shoulders to the back of the truck. The rest of the team covered their retreat. Smoke bloomed from the hot barrels of their assault rifles and grenades cracked and boomed. The Syrians paused in their advance, taking cover where they could. John and Sargent Smith were the last to reach the back of the truck.

A rocket propelled grenade zoomed over them, striking the cabin of the truck which promptly exploded in a yellow glare killing the driver instantly. Machine gun fire erupted from the side of the warehouse and raked the back of the truck. John watched in horror as his team were cut to pieces. He turned back toward the approaching Syrians and fired again, taking out the nearest with a head shot. A hail of bullets returned, some hitting his body armor but three went through his lower gut.

John fell backward onto the floor. Sargent Smith stepped over him, his H&K blazing as his bullets ripped through the Syrians. Smith suddenly jerked backward and slumped to the side, his H&K clattering to the floor. His hands gripped his throat were a round had slashed through it, blood poured past his fingers.

The firing stopped.

The Syrians advanced, their boots making heavy footfalls over the warehouse floor. A Syrian Army officer crouched next to John, pointed a 9mm pistol at his face and said in passable English, ‘So Yankee, what in Allah’s name are you -’

A shining sword blade appeared through the officer’s skull. The tip dripping blood for half a second before the blade disappeared. John could hardly believe what he had seen. It had happened so fast. The officer’s body started to fall toward him. It stopped in mid-air, a handspan above him, and then was flung like a broken toy across the warehouse. Wild shooting and panicked screaming erupted nearby. The shooting stopped first, then the screaming a couple of seconds later.

A stunningly beautiful brunette appeared over him. A guardian angel with cold blue eyes, dressed in black combat fatigues. She put her sword down and knelt on one knee beside him. She pulled a thick syringe filled with red fluid from her belt and thrust the needle into the side of his heart.

‘What … are … doing?’ John managed to ask.

‘Saving your life,’ She said.

Behind her stood a tall, slim man, armed with a longsword. Figures blurred in movement at the edge of John’s vision. He took another breath. That was when the gut shots faded into the background and the pain really began.