Jonathan Moeller's Blog, page 321

Soul of Swords rough draft is now underway

I started writing the first draft of SOUL OF SWORDS today.

It is such an odd feeling. I’ve never finished a series before, and I can feel the weight of the last six books and twelve years (I started writing DEMONSOULED in 2001) pushing me forward. It’s like I’ve been in this roller coaster, climbing, climbing, climbing the hill…

…and, at last, we’ve crested the hill, and the car is just starting to roll forward.

Well. I fully intend to make SOUL OF SWORDS one heck of a roller coaster ride, friends and neighbors.

The book’s first sentence:

“That is impossible,” said Mazael Cravenlock, his sword hand curling into a fist.

-JM

choose your own adventure, episode 14a

“To the church!” you say. “Quickly!”

You race down the hillside path as fast as you dare, Ulacht and Sir Thomas at your heels. The path is narrow and rocky, and you think it would be a grim joke if you tripped and fell to your death while pursuing an ancient horror of legend.

At last you reach the bottom of the hill and enter the village, and see that the situation is worse than you thought.

Sir Hamus’s keep is a tower of flame, black smoke billowing from the windows and roof. The rest of the village burns, men and women and children fleeing towards the church. The church itself looks intact, and you see a large group of militia standing before the stairs, forming a good impression of a spear wall. And they are fighting…

Your fingers tighten around Heartwarden’s hilt.

They are fighting undead.

Dozens of ragged corpses fling themselves at the defenders, their empty eyes alight with ghostly green fire. The same shade of flame, you note, that you saw around the spiderling’s fingers. In the distance you see a faint pillar of that same flame rising from the base of the hill, just outside the village.

But the fighting holds your attention. The militia look as if they are about to break beneath the undead onslaught, and you can see hundreds of terrified women and children packed into the church. Magistrius Richard stands before the church doors, flinging blasts of white flame into the undead, but there are too many of the dead things.

You bellow a battle cry, calling to God and the archangels to lend your sword arm strength, and charge into the fray, Ulacht and Sir Thomas at your side. Steel can harm these things, but Heartwarden’s blade burns with the blue light of the Well’s magic, and the weapon tears through the undead as if they are puppets made of cloth and straw. The militiamen loose and shout and stand their ground, and you see Father Linus in their midst, wielding a club with vigor. Fat old Sir Hamus stands next to him, fighting with an enormous two-handed axe, his face red with exertion.

At last the final undead falls, and the fighting is over. But not for long – you see more undead moving through the village.

And that pillar of green flame still pulses at the base of the hill.

“Sir Ridmark!” says Father Linus, lowering his club. “Thank God you have come! Another few minutes and we would have been overrun.”

“What has happened?” says Sir Thomas.

“I don’t know, sir,” says Father Linus. “Every house in the village caught fire at once. The folk fled into the streets…and then the undead starting coming from the tombs.”

“The tombs?” you say, looking at the pillar of green fire rising from the hillside.

“Aye,” says Linus. “We have long buried our dead in the caves below the hill.” He shrugged. “Easier than digging graves, and cheaper than burning the dead. Though perhaps we were foolish.”

“My wife,” says Sir Hamus, his voice a moan as he looks at the burning keep. “My wife was in there. We have to rescue Lady Gwenaelle. We must!”

“My lord knight,” says Linus, “I’m sure your wife…”

“We must save her!” says Hamus, eyes glittering, his face flushed. “Else she will perish in the flames!” He looks half-crazed, and you remember the effect Gwenaelle had on you.

If she truly is a spiderling, he will do whatever she commands.

“Better than we strike at once,” says Thomas, pointing at the green fire, “and find whatever necromancer is raising the dead.”

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GHOST IN THE FORGE now on the iBookstore

Good news! GHOST IN THE FORGE is now available on the iBookstore.

I am sorry it took so long – it’s been almost a month since the book was on the other platforms. For some reason GHOST IN THE FORGE gave me formatting troubles. Fortunately, Jutoh ebook creator solved them quite handily.

-JM

new books in THE THIRD SOUL now available!

I am pleased to report that the next three installments in THE THIRD SOUL series – THE OUTLAW ADEPT, THE BLACK PALADIN, and THE TOMB OF BALIGANT – are now available! Click on the links below for more information.

Cover image copyright Bliznetsov | istockphoto.com

Available at Amazon, Amazon UK, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and Smashwords.

Read the first chapter here.

Cover image copyright Dmitriy Cherevko | Dreamstime.com

Available at Amazon, Amazon UK, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and Smashwords.

Read the first chapter here.

Cover image copyright baytunc | istockphoto.com

Available at Amazon, Amazon UK, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and Smashwords.

-JM

choose your own adventure, episode 13a.

The spiderling lunges for you, her clawed hands crackling with green flames. And as she does, she hisses, her pincers flexing, and spits a glob of sticky green venom at your face.

But you’ve anticipated the attack, and Heartwarden blurs up and deflects the venom. You realize the spiderling assumed the venom would disable you, because she’s left herself open as she lunges for you, and you sidestep and whip Heartwarden around in a two-handed blow.

The spiderling’s head jumps off her shoulders and rolls across the floor, the pincers clicking against her smooth white marble. The emaciated body slumps to the floor, the neck leaking a thick greenish-black slime. The green fire around her talons wink out, and as it does, the urvaalg corpses collapse back to the floor, like puppets with cut strings.

For a moment you, Sir Thomas, and Ulacht stand in silence.

“God and his saints,” says Thomas. “A spiderling. Here.”

“I think,” you say, “we know what happened to those missing children.”

Thomas rubs his face. “And I suppose Gwenaelle is one as well. Explains why my father fell for her. And that means old Gotha is a spiderling, too.” He looks at you. “Do you think an urdmordar is hiding among us?”

“It must be,” you say. “Spiderlings are the offspring of a human man and a female urdmordar. They tend to be quite loyal to their mothers.”

“Aye,” says Ulacht, and the old orc looks shaken. “One of the old goddesses has come among us, and demands a tribute in blood for our apostasy.”

You know that Ulacht is right to be afraid.

Male urdmordar are dangerous enough. They are spiders the size of horses, and can easily kill a score of armed men without difficulty. But male urdmordar are little more than mindless animals, and are incapable of much thought beyond sating their immediate hungers.

Female urdmordar, though…female urdmordar are much, much more dangerous.

They are effectively immortal, and wield tremendous dark magic with the natural ease of a bird taking to the air. Additionally, they are immune to steel – only magic, an enchanted Soulblade, or fire can harm them.

You know that the urdmordar warred against the high elves for tens of thousands of years. Once high elven kingdoms ruled the entirety what is now Andomhaim, but the urdmordar gradually ground them down to near-extinction. The dark elves became the vassals of the urdmordar, and the pagan orc tribes worshipped them as goddesses. Indeed, from what you understand, the female urdmordar regard themselves as goddesses, and all other races as their rightful servants and prey.

And when humans first came from Old Earth and founded Andomhaim, the urdmordar almost destroyed them. The urdmordar’s hordes of dark elven vassals and orcish slaves conquered most of Andomhaim and laid siege to the High King’s stronghold of Tarlion. Only when the last archmage of the high elves came to Tarlion and taught the Keeper to forge Soulblades and trained the Magistri in magic did the tide turn. The High King, the Swordbearers, and the Magistri led the nations in a great war and shattered the dark elven and orcish armies, defeated the urdmordar, and smashed their empire to pieces.

But the surviving urdmordar sank into the shadows, preying on humans and orcs and halfings from the darkness.

Now it seems that one has come to the villages of Victrix and Rzoldur.

Which means that you are in way over your head.

“We need to send word to the commander of my order at Castra Marcaine,” you say. “He can send us additional Swordbearers and Magistri. Even a lone urdmordar could kill me, you, and every orc and human in Victrix and Rzoldur without much effort.” You look at Thomas. “And we had best do it without letting your father or Gwenaelle or Gotha know. Otherwise they’ll warn the urdmordar.”

“Aye,” says Thomas. “I have a man-at-arms I can trust at the task. We had best go quickly.”

You leave the dark elven ruin, walk to the edge of hill, and freeze.

“God preserve us,” says Thomas.

The village of Victrix is burning.

You see men and women bursting from burning houses, fleeing in terror. For a moment you wonder if the orcs have lost patience and attacked, but you see flames shooting from the stone houses of Rzoldur as well, see orcs running from their homes.

“We are attacked!” roars Ulacht, lifting his club. “But who?”

You cannot see from this distance, but it looks as if mottled gray-and-white figures are attacking the villages.

“There’s fighting,” says Thomas, “outside the keep, and by the doors of the church. They need our aid. We must hurry!”

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milestones for Demonsouled: Soul of Skulls and Soul of Dragons

Cover image copyright Nejron | Dreamstime.com

Some good news today – I did some math and found that SOUL OF SKULLS sold its 1,000th copy sometime in the third week of February. Since the book came on January 11th, that means it did 1,000 copies in the space of about five weeks. Not bad!

Also, I’m pleased to report that as of February, SOUL OF DRAGONS sold its 5,000th copy. Since it came out on February 3rd, 2012, that means in precisely one year the book sold 5,000 copies. Thanks, everyone!

SOUL OF DRAGONS joins three other books of mine that have sold more than 5,000 copies – SOUL OF TYRANTS, SOUL OF SERPENTS, and GHOST IN THE FLAMES.

-JM

The Outlaw Adept & The Black Paladin sample chapters

Cover image copyright Bliznetsov | istockphoto.com

The release of the next volumes in THE THIRD SOUL series is imminent. Specifically, we’ll be doing something a little different this time. The novella THE OUTLAW ADEPT, and the novels THE BLACK PALADIN and THE TOMB OF BALIGANT will all come out at the same time. Additionally, the previous stories in THE THIRD SOUL have focused on Rachaelis Morulan and Corthain Kalarien and their adventures in the city of Araspan, but the new stories will revolve around new characters and locations.

Here’s the first chapter of THE OUTLAW ADEPT.

And here is the first chapter of THE BLACK PALADIN.

I would post a sample chapter from THE TOMB OF BALIGANT, but I’m afraid it would spoil THE BLACK PALADIN.

-JM

choose your own adventure, episode 12a

“Then you’ve been the one talking the children?” you say, hoping to draw more information from the spiderling.

The spiderling tilts her head, her green eyes, all eight of them, regarding you.

“It is better to allow the herd animals to grow to maturity,” says the spiderling, “and thereby mate and propagate the herd. But Mother is indulging us, for she has foreseen the great culling to come. We may as well feast now, for when the cold ones return the herd shall be thinned for decades, if not centuries.”

“So I suppose,” you say, “that Lady Gwenaelle is one of your sisters?” That would explain the strength of your attraction to her. Spiderlings can produce any number of potent poison to induce hallucinations or particular emotions.

“The local knight,” says the spiderling, “has proven most easy to manipulate. As herd animals usually…ah. I see. You are attempting to obtain information for me. This is cleverer than I expected. But Mother ever warned us against overconfidence. The time for talk is now done.”

She thrusts out her hands, green fire shining around her clawed fingers, and you raise Heartwarden to protect yourself and Ulacht and Sir Thomas.

But the spell isn’t aimed at you.

The dead urvaalg stir, green fire flickering to life in their eyes. Living urvaalg are bad enough. Undead urvaalg are much worse. Urdmordar are masters of necromancy in addition to their other powers, and they often can create powerful undead.

Even as the thought crosses your mind, the spiderling surges forward, claws reaching for you.

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ebook sales for February 2013

No Reader Question Day this week, since have Obligations to fulfill today. So instead let’s talk about ebook sales for February 2013:

5,265

This was of course down from January’s record-breaking 6,369, but up from February 2012′s 3,750. As of next month I’ll have been self-publishing for two years, so it will be interesting to see how sales numbers go up and down. Though preferably up.

-JM

choose your own adventure, episode 11a

You decide to help Sir Thomas against the urvaalg attacking him. Ulacht held his own against the urvaalg in the woods south of Victrix, and you’re not sure if Sir Thomas has faced such a foe before.

You spin and charge at Sir Thomas, and see that you made the right choice. The urvaalg springs upon Thomas, driving the knight to the ground. Thomas manages to get his shield between him and the urvaalg, which keeps the beast from biting his head off. The urvaalg snarls and rakes at the shield, its talons tearing splinters from the thick wood.

Fortunately, Thomas holds the urvaalg’s attention, which makes it quite easy for you to step forward, Heartwarden a blur of blue light in your fist, and take off the urvaalg’s head. The misshapen head rolls across the white floor, the body thrashing. You kick the corpse off Thomas, leave the knight to get to his feet, and race to aid Ulacht.

The orcish headman has faired better, whipping his massive club around his head as if it were a light baton. He’s hit the urvaalg in the face several times, and knocked out about half of its fangs, driving the beast to a maddened rage. In its fury the urvaalg remains focused on Ulacht, and you plunge Heartwarden into its side, the soulblade tearing through furred hide and thick muscle to seek the beast’s vitals. The urvaalg screams, and Ulacht’s club comes down in a massive two-handed blow atop the creature’s skull.

The scream comes to a very abrupt end.

You wrench Heartwarden free just as the spiderling finishes her spell. Her body ripples, wavers, and disappears entirely. A spell of invisibility, then. You remembering learning that urdmordar wielded tremendous power of black magic – and it seems a half-human, half-urdmordar spiderling has some of that power, as well.

Fortunately, you have resources of your own. Drawing on your bond with Heartwarden, you access the soulblade’s power to protect from magic, and extend that protection to Ulacht and Sir Thomas. The air ripples, and the spiderling reappears a few feet from her previous position, all eight of her brilliant green eyes blinking in surprise. You suspect she planned to use her invisibility to rip out your throats.

Sir Thomas staggers to your side, sword and shield ready, and for a moment you stare at the spiderling, waiting for her next move.

“You slew Mother’s pets,” says the spiderling at last. The pincers rising from her mouth click, as if annoyed. “The dark ones bred them for her, long ago. She will be wroth that herd animals slew her pets.”

“We will try,” says Thomas, “to contain our disappointment.”

“And you, orc,” says the spiderling, shifting her gaze to Ulacht. “Your kind once accepted your proper place as herd animals, and worshipped Mother and her sisters as goddesses. You should return to your former wisdom before the great culling begins.”

“No!” says Ulacht, angrier than you have ever seen him. “Once we were slaves, to the blood gods and the dark gods and the urdmordar of old, but no more! The High King and his Christ came, and no more do we offer our children as sacrifices to your sort!”

“You should have,” says the spiderling. “You could have been Mother’s favored servants. Now she will kill you with all the rest.” The eight green eyes fix on you. “I suppose she shall forgive me the urvaalg once I bring her your heads speared upon that soulblade.”

The muscles in her thin limbs tense, and she is preparing to make a move.

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