L.G. Surgeson's Blog, page 8
July 13, 2014
Another Day Another Great Review
on Amazon.co.uk
By do not disturb
This review is from: The Freetown Bridge (The Aberddu Adventures Book 1) (Kindle Edition)
The Freetown Bridge starts by introducing you to a number of intriguing characters, all of whom instantly seem to have depth and a backstory to each that I would love to know more of. In fact, I lost track occasionally of who was who and who was where simply due to the vast number of ‘main’ characters in the book, as well realised as each one was.
The story moves on quickly and brought me to genuine laughter and even a heartfelt tear. I am surprised that this is the first book by Surgeson; with a start like this I expect great things to come!!
Very exciting – as I have no idea who the reviewer is.
June 26, 2014
Charlie was use…
Charlie was used to goblins, some of his best customers were goblins. In fairness he didn’t have many customers that weren’t goblins – which is what happens if you open a bar called ‘The Startling Toad’. Today, however, was suffering from a conspicuous lack of goblins. The sound of no goblins always made Charlie nervous. It usually meant they were up to something. Mind you, goblins were up to something whether you could hear them or not, but if you couldn’t hear them it meant they were up to something organised.
- from The Winter That Follows…now out on Amazon.
May 5, 2014
Mulligan wasn’t…
Mulligan wasn’t comfortable above ground during daylight hours, he felt like he was being watched as though the sun had his number and was just waiting for an opportunity.
From The Winter that follows – the ‘prequel sequel’ that bridges the gap between the legendary Summer of Fire and what follows – The Freetown Bridge, The Dawn of Darkness and everything that came with it.
Out soon… nearly complete.
February 16, 2014
Ill-informed and still alive is preferable to … the other thing.
Extract from ‘The Winter That Follows’ – The series prequel sequel… (currently in progress).
Tal Daris checked his scarf and hood again and rode away as quickly as he dare. Too fast and it looked suspicious, too slow and it was overconfidence. He’d paid for the horse with genuine frisian silver, albeit it stolen, but still. He was currently a legitimate horse owner… kind of. He wasn’t about to spend too long worrying about the legality of it. Particularly not considering that he was currently riding solo through Frisia – a nation not known for it’s hospitality to wood elves, with only a leather hood and a Jaffrian cotton scarf covering his pointy bits. He was lucky enough not to have any racial markings on his face or neck and in that position a lot of operatives would have swaggered about taking the kind of risks that got you information quickly and then very swiftly got you killed. Tal Daris tended to be more of the opinion that it was better to be ill-informed and still alive than know everything just in time to die. As far as he knew he was on the right road for the army camp, if not he’d have to cross that bridge when he found it, or not as the case may be. If he kept riding, he might get there in a few hours and then he would have to figure out how to get through the gates. Oh, yeah, and he had to hope he didn’t sneeze too violently at the wrong moment dislodging his hood.
Ill-formed and alive is preferable to … the other thing.
Extract from ‘The Winter That Follows’ – The series prequel sequel… (currently in progress).
Tal Daris checked his scarf and hood again and rode away as quickly as he dare. Too fast and it looked suspicious, too slow and it was overconfidence. He’d paid for the horse with genuine frisian silver, albeit it stolen, but still. He was currently a legitimate horse owner… kind of. He wasn’t about to spend too long worrying about the legality of it. Particularly not considering that he was currently riding solo through Frisia – a nation not known for it’s hospitality to wood elves, with only a leather hood and a Jaffrian cotton scarf covering his pointy bits. He was lucky enough not to have any racial markings on his face or neck and in that position a lot of operatives would have swaggered about taking the kind of risks that got you information quickly and then very swiftly got you killed. Tal Daris tended to be more of the opinion that it was better to be ill-informed and still alive than know everything just in time to die. As far as he knew he was on the right road for the army camp, if not he’d have to cross that bridge when he found it, or not as the case may be. If he kept riding, he might get there in a few hours and then he would have to figure out how to get through the gates. Oh, yeah, and he had to hope he didn’t sneeze too violently at the wrong moment dislodging his hood.
January 2, 2014
The Bird and Bottle
Chapter 1 of In Shadows Waiting – available on eatsleepwrite.net – the rest of it is available on
December 10, 2013
Trapped.
Extract – The Winter That Follows (book 2, prequel sequel).
Escape was impossible. Not impossible – that was the wrong word.If he had been a different sort of adventurer, a different sort of person, he would have orchestrated a vast, daring breakout of slaves and gone with them. However, that was not Tollie’s style. A lone escape was impossible – for who would help him? The slaves wouldn’t aid and abett a turncoat guard, and the other soldiers would very likely kill him on sight for desertion. If he slacked off his duties he would be whipped with only marginally less force than the captives or worse sent to solitary with rats, spiders and iron rations. For all his repulsion at the idea of being stuck here, he could not bring himself to formulate a plan that would get him out of it. He had not yet dared to ask how long this duty would last, but he was going to have to stick it out. If he had been the kind of person inclined to that way of thinking, he would have started to pray for his immortal soul. As it happened, he was considering taking up religion because it seemed one of the few viable options left to him. If he could have figured out which God would want to listen to a panicking coward who had accidentally ended up on duty in a Frisian slave camp, he wouldn’t have hesitated.
December 6, 2013
Doc Merryweather I Presume… (from the still unnamed 4th book).
pening her eyes, she saw that she was in her bed in the caravan. It took a moment to grasp the fact that it she was in bed then someone else was driving. But who? The doc was dead. It had been a good year or so since she had woken up in a moving van. Wincing with pain, she pulled herself into an sitting position and tried to make sense of things. The noise of her movement brought her an explanation faster than she had anticipated.
“Ah, hello,” said a kind well-spoken voice. “How’s the head?”
A slender woman with a mop of ginger curls and a band of freckles across her nose was smiling at her from her perch on the lockable chest in which the valuables lived. “Doc Merryweather, I presume?” The ginger woman gestured over her shoulder to the side of the caravan, the outside of which read ‘Doctor Merryweather Healer. Rainmaker. Alchemist.’ in faded green letters.
“Yeah,” she said, because it was better than explaining.As she said it, she put her hand up to the back of head to examine the bump and found that her hair was matted with blood but the cut seemed to be healed. In all probability this woman, and whoever was driving the caravan, had saved her life. There was no need to be rude. “I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage.”
“Oh sorry, where are my manners?” said the woman her narrow face stretching into a smile so wide that the woman who wasn’t really Doc Merryweather feared her head may actually fall in half. “I’m Jocelyn Vincenzi, but you can call me Jos and my companion Brother Bernard is currently at the reigns.”
“Brother Bernard?” muttered not the Doc, whose real name was Jeli. “Brother?” She almost choked on the word the second time around and Jocelyn reached out sympathetically proferring a waterskin.
“Take it easy,” she said kindly, “You had quite a blow to the head.” Jeli Not-Doc took the water and sipped it and then said in a shaky voice,
“Did you say Brother?”
“Yes,” said Jocelyn, who apparently seemed to think Jeli’s reactions were down to pain rather than anything else. “Brother Bernard. Strictly speaking, I class as a ‘sister’ but it doesn’t go with the rest of the job.”
Jeli could feel her heart rate rising with every word from her erstwhile saviour. Religious types. It was vital she didn’t panic.
“Job?” she asked weakly, hoping that playing up her injury would conceal her consternation.
“I’m a Knight Allegiant,” she said, as though Jeli should know what that meant, and then when she didn’t react went on to explain. “I’m a warrior priestess, a holy knight.” As an illustration, she picked up a shiny silver paldron from a pile that Jeli had only just then noticed. “The armour’s a bind I tell you.” Jeli nodded. She wasn’t really listening, she was just trying to get a grip on herself so she didn’t suddenly blow it all.
“Which Temple?” she said slowly, although she had a horrible feeling she already knew.
“The Temple of Reverential Justice in Port Selliar,” said Jocelyn conversationally and Jeli nodded again. Yep. Law Clerics – how did she know? Saved from certain death at the hands of Tartars by a pair of Law Clerics, one of whom was now perched on the chest that contained Jeli’s entire fortune, every single groat of which had been acquired through morally grey activity. She would have found it funny had she not been laid up in bed at their mercy.
November 24, 2013
The Rise of the Greenland Army
With fascination, he watched a group of bouncing goblins pulling a giant, ramshackle catapult that seemed to be straining against its ropes with every turn of its mismatched wheel. Several of them were wearing incredibly dented helmets with leather chin straps. They had the crazed boss-eyed look that told Ger-Val that they were hawked up on hemlock. He genuinely couldn’t believe the level of the response to his plan. He hoped the piece of land he had picked out was going to be large enough for them all. Then he looked back at the hemlock-soaked goblins who were now throwing themselves in the paths of some of the larger heavily-armoured Trolls. Perhaps he shouldn’t worry, the likelihood was that quite a lot of them would probably be dead by the time they were done and some of them might even be killed by the enemy.
That was when he heard the sound he’d been waiting for, floating up among the cacophony. Very very soon, he would be prepared to bet that there would be much less cacophony in about five minutes.
