Joshua Reynolds's Blog, page 48

Weekend Weird: Chasseur

A dose of weird to start the weekend off right…Chasseur, written and directed by Christopher Soren Kelly. A Cajun devil-hunter goes to the crossroads and meets Satan’s lawyer…

The Great Sage of Mortlake

This past wednesday was the birthday of one Dr. John Dee–cosmologist, cartographer, alchemist, philospher, scientist, mathematician and adviser to Queen Elizabeth I. Dee was also, in one world, the first incumbent of the offices of the Royal Occultist…

Dee was an interesting character, and one I’ve long had a fascination with. A polymath, Dee at one time might have possessed one of the largest occult libraries in the western world. He claimed to speak the language of angels, and may have been a spy. Like his fellow Elizabethan, Christopher Marlowe, he’s had his share of fictional adventures. In particular, I recommend Donald Tyson’s collection, The Ravener & Others, as well as Phil Rickman’s ‘John Dee Papers’ series.

Dee was the obvious choice when I was looking for the original Royal Occultist. He fits the bill better than most historical figures from the same time period, and he adds a bit of needed weight to the concept, in the same way that Carnacki does. While I’ve only written one story directly dealing with Dee’s adventures during his tenure as the Queen’s Conjurer–“A Tiger’s Heart, A Player’s Hide”–his influence is felt throughout the series, especially in regards to the mysterious artifact known as the Monas Glyph.

Having written one, I plan on writing others. Dee had plenty of adventures. He also engaged in his fair share of shady operations as the drabble below illustrates…

“A GIFT OF SPITE”

Click-click-click.

The marionette jerked to life with a twitch of the weighted velvet rope that hung from the back of the cabinet. Colored strings connected to brass weights ran from every intricately articulated joint of the wooden doll’s form. The velvet rope was pulled and it set the clockwork device in the cabinet to moving the weights which in turn moved the marionette in a particular, loose-limbed swaying pirouette.

As the clockwork clicked, the marionette shuffled and swayed on flat, wooden feet. It took one step, then another, then a third. Over it’s featureless ovoid head, the slender wooden frame from which it dangled extended with a chuff of air from the bellows that propelled it.

A living toy. That was what the Moor had called it. A gift from Phillip II to his favorite spymaster. Don Carlos de Gutierrez fluffed his fan-shaped beard with a hand dripping with golden rings.

“How interesting,” he said, at last. He watched the toy clatter across the floor in a herky-jerky spin reminiscent of the dances of the tribes of the Bedouin. The Moor, standing beside his colorfully painted cabinet, bowed slightly. He was a thin man, and well-dressed in the fashion of the Spanish court.

“His Majesty hoped you would feel that way. He has taken an interest in toys of late…”

“Children’s playthings,” Don Carlos murmured. “Still,” he continued, looking at the Moor. “What else does it do?”

“It dances, it can play a variety of instruments, it can even mock-duel a bit-”

“Truly?” Don Carlos said, rubbing his lips. He nodded to one of his guards. “Give it your sword.”

“Milord?”

“Your sword, man.” Don Carlos stood and threw his cloak aside. He was a tall man, and slender, made even thinner in his black hose and doublet. He drew the rapier from his hip and gave the air a few tentative slashes. He glanced at the Moor, who was looking distinctly ill-at-ease. “Rest easy, I will not destroy your toy.”

“Indeed milord. Only it was his Majesty’s intention that you-”

“That I should enjoy his gift, yes?” Don Carlos said. “And so I shall.”

The Moor swallowed and nodded, then he crossed to the front of the marionette and ran his fingers across its chest, where a disk of metal had been placed. Sliding his fingers into the appropriate holes, the Moor twisted the disk. It moved with a hiss. The weighted strings seemed to tighten, pulling the marionette into a straighter stance. Its wooden fingers clutched convulsively at the hilt of the sword and its arm came up. Don Carlos quirked an eyebrow.

“Intriguing.”

“It is a wonder of the Orient, milord.”

“Ah…” Don Carlos smiled and tapped the Moor’s shoulder with the flat of his blade. “Well. Step aside then. Let us see what this ‘wonder’ can do, yes?”

“As you wish, milord,” the Moor said, as he stepped aside. Don Carlos gestured towards the cabinet.

“Give it a pull.”

The Moor pulled the velvet cord and the marionette snapped to life with a speed that startled Don Carlos. All of its joints seemed to lose the looseness it had displayed earlier. The wooden head cocked, as if it were waiting. Then the wooden arm straightened and drove the borrowed blade towards his heart. Don Carlos stepped back, bringing his own sword up with a splash of desperation. He deflected the blow and stepped back, feeling a tingle of what?…certainly not fear…no, it was just surprise. It had simply surprised him.

The marionette stepped back, sword point lowering. Its head turned, bobbing on its strings. It had no eyes, but it was watching him. He knew it. But that was impossible…

A wooden foot clacked. It lunged smoothly, inhumanly smoothly. Don Carlos staggered and swept out a wild cut. Strings fell limply. The marionette didn’t stop. It lunged again, seeking to spit his heart. He could hear his guards shouting. He parried and fell back. The marionette darted forward and for a moment, just a moment, Don Carlos saw not a wooden toy but something else. A flash of rotten light, a distant sound like a single flap of great, brass wings and the clop-clop of hooves as something indescribably foul rushed towards him out of black eons. And then the marionette was on him.

“No! I cut-” he began, but the rest of his denial was caught in his throat as wooden fingers closed around his throat and an alien strength forced him backwards. The sword-his guard’s sword-slid smoothly through his shoulder, the blade digging into the delicate tiles of the floor. Above him, the marionette leaned forward, pressing him down. A thin crack ran the width of its head…had he cut it? The crack widened as it leaned close to him, splintering and growing, opening, spreading. There was a smell of offal and the sound of a thousand wasps and the crack had become something else. A mouth.

Don Carlos gasped. Long, curved splinters, hundreds of them, filled the mouth as it lowered towards his face. He felt a sulfur-touched heat wash over him, then he felt nothing at all.

Doctor John Dee slumped in his chair, the shew-stone rolling from his trembling hands. He took a deep, shuddering breath and looked up at his guest. “It is done.”

“Is it?” Sir Francis Walsingham said, not looking away from the window. He stared out into the night, hands clasped behind his back. “Good. What of our agent?”

“Its daemonic essence will turn that wooden frame to the merest wisp of ash in time. Until then…” Dee shrugged wearily. “One more nightmare in a land full of them.”

“Nothing for the Inquisition to find, then?”

“There’s always something for them to find,” Dee said. “But nothing to tie it to Her Majesty.”

“Good.”

“The cost-” Dee began, rubbing his chest through his robes. Walsingham raised a thin hand.

“No cost is too great.”

“Our souls-”

“Are well spent, my friend.” Walsingham turned, his face haggard, eyes empty. “Take some comfort in that.”

For an overview of the Royal Occultist series, visit The Adventures of the Royal Occultist site. There’s also a dedicated Facebook fanpage and a complete listing of stories, including “A Tiger’s Heart, A Player’s Hide”. You can also read a number of stories for free, if that’s your thing.

WIP Wednesday #28: All Cylinders

I’m firing on all cylinders lately, despite recurring migraines. Or maybe because of the migraines. Maybe they’re my superpower, rather than a thing that makes me smell colours and taste music. Either way, this has been a good week.

With the revisions for The Divine Drowned finished for the moment, I’ve turned my attentions to this year’s second novella project–CRYPTID CLASH: Inzignanin AKA ‘Lee County Lizard Man Vs. Third-Eye Man’ AKA ‘Tiny Godzilla Fights Hobo Ghost-Wizard’.

I’m about 5,000 words into what will likely be a 16-20,000 word project. I’ve already slashed out a planned subplot because (a) it was cheesy and (b) tedious. Too, it makes more room for the two stunning character-finds of 2016: a motormouth cryptozoologist who steals cigarettes and talks about Full House way too much, and also…Lyle. Who is a lawyer. Lyle the lawyer.

Did I mention the migraines?

My main research materials for the project are a trio of books: Lizard Man: The True Story of the Bishopville Monster by Lyle Blackburn, South Carolina: A History by Walter Edgar and Cauthen and Power’s South Carolina Goes to War, 1860-1865. I am using one of those more than the others. Guess which one!

Over the weekend, I started AND completed two 5,000 word short stories, as well as made revisions to a third. And I’m about to start a 10,000 word Space Wolf–adjacent short story this afternoon. I’m hoping to take some time and finish this one up this weekend, or early next week.

If you’re keeping track, that’s roughly 15,000 words written so far this week, not counting revisions or blog posts.

To wrap things up this week, a gentle reminder that David Guymer and I would be grateful if you’d check out Realmgate Wars: Mortarch of Night. And maybe go vote for David in the Gemmell Awards, if you’re of a mind. He’s a swell guy, he wrote a fantastic book and he deserves to win, I think.

Zibaldone #15: Tunnels

For today’s commonplace book entry, we have a thing which, like several previous entries, is relevant to my current project.

The semi-mythic catacombs running beneath Columbia will feature heavily in CRYPTID CLASH: Inzignanin. As will the musical stylings of several late 90’s/early 00’s local bands that no one has ever heard of.  Also? Drink Small.

Because Drink Small does it all.

Mortarch of Night

Sent to the Realm of Death in search of Nagash himself, Lord-Celestant Tarsus and his Bull-Hearts find an unexpected–and untrustworthy ally–whose destiny will become entwined with their own…

From the blurb:

Long ago, Sigmar numbered Nagash among his allies, but the Master of Death betrayed the God-King, causing the great pantheon o gods to crumble as the Age of Chaos began. Now, Sigmar seeks to reform his ancient alliegiances – Tarsus Bull-Heart, Lord-Celestant of the Hallowed Knights, has been sent to the Vale of Sorrows with his Warrior Chamber to treat with the Great Necromancer. The Stormcast Eternals soon discover that Shyish is an unforgiving realm, and they are forced to accept aid from a vampire of dubious provenance, one whose name resonates throughout history: Manfred von Carstein. Tarsus and his Lord-Relictor Ramus both fear that there is more to their new guide than meets the eye, for it is well known that the dead cannot be trusted…

The Realmgate Wars: Mortarch of Night contains prose versions of the following audio dramas: “The Prisoner of the Black Sun”, “Sands of Blood”, “The Lords of Helstone”, “Bridge of Seven Sorrows”, “The Beasts of Cartha”, “Fist of Mork, Fist of Gork”, “Great Red” and “Only the Faithful”, written by David Guymer and myself.

I’ve written about this series before, and I highly recommend checking them out in the format they were written for. That said, if you’re not a fan of audio dramas, but you’ve been wanting to check out the adventures of the Hallowed Knights in the Realm of Death, well now’s your chance. The whole story, in one complete volume.

Or, rather, the story so far…

The Realmgate Wars: Mortarch of Night is available in hardback and ebook, as well as a pricey exclusive edition.

And remember…who shall stand, though the world crumbles? Only the faithful.

WIP Wednesday #27: Positivity

The long, slow crawl towards Halloween begins here. Well, technically, it began last November. Hey, a guy can have a favourite holiday, can’t he? Only three months. Positive thoughts.

I finished the first draft of the The Sea-Leopard on the Sunday. 125k of swashbuckling, political espionage, pirate-fighting fantasy, loosely based on the real-world historical event known as the Uskok War. I’m both relieved and pleasantly surprised to have finished it, only eight months after starting it.

That sounds like a long time, I know, but bear in mind that I wrote two other novels and two novellas in that time as well. So eight months is pretty good going, I think.  Now, if some publisher will just buy it, I can get to work on the sequel, tentatively titled A Woman of Means. 

I’ve also just finished both a 6k word short story and an 3k word audio script for Black Library, the latter featuring a character I’ll be writing more about next year, if all goes well. I’ve got another three short stories to write for BL before the end of next month, one of which will also deal with the character mentioned above.

Besides those, this week I’m working on an introduction for a book that’ll be out later this year and the revisions for The Divine Drowned, the novella I’m working on with David Edwards, for Imperiad Entertainment.

Too, I’m hoping to find some time to start on my contribution to CRYPTID CLASH! next week. I’ve spoken about this before. The novella will be a punch-up between the Lizardman of Scape Ore Swamp and the Third Eye Man. I’ve been looking forward to starting this one for a few months now.

And that’s what I’ve been working on this week.

Oh, and if you haven’t picked up a copy of the newest entry in the Adventures of the Royal Occultist, The Infernal Express, why not do so today? And if you’ve already read and enjoyed it, feel free to leave a review on Amazon or Goodreads. Just a thought.

Pulpfest 2016

Pulpfest 2016 is later this month, as is Farmercon XI, and I’ve been told that there’ll be copies of both Phileas Fogg and the War of Shadows and the sequel, Phileas Fogg and the Heart of Osra available in the Dealer’s Room.

There are only a few copies of Phileas Fogg and the War of Shadows left, so this’ll be the last chance you have to grab a hardback copy. So, if you’re planning to be in Columbus, Ohio at the end of July, why not grab a ticket, and a copy or two?

Spirits of the Forest

It’s Saturday, and that means Black Library has its preorders up, including Legends of the Age of Sigmar: Sylvaneth. The anthology includes five stories featuring malevolent forest spirits, dangerous spites and the Everqueen herself, by authors including Rob Sanders, Gav Thorpe, Robbie MacNiven and, well, me. Otherwise I probably wouldn’t be talking about it, now ‘wood’ I?

Get it? ‘Wood’. Because they’re…never mind.

From the blurb:

For an age, the Realm of Life has languished in the grip of Nurgle, the god of pestilence and decay. Overcome with despair, the goddess of life, Alarielle, fell into a state of dormancy, seemingly leaving her children, the sylvaneth, to a dark fate under the oppression of Chaos. No longer. Now, the Queen of the Radiant Wood has awoken in her war aspect, and the sylvaneth heed her call to reclaim their forest kingdoms in all the Mortal Realms. Now is the season of vengeance…

My contributions, “The Resolute” and “The Outcast”, deal with two very different aspects of the Sylvaneth. The first, “The Resolute”, follows the tree-revenant known as Felyndael, Guardian of the Waning Light, as he reluctantly allies with a familiar face from “The Gates of Dawn”/“War in the Hidden Vale”–Aetius Shieldborn, Liberator-Prime of the Steel-Souls–to battle the servants of Nurgle.

The second story, “The Outcast”, features another ancient hero of the Sylvaneth–the malevolent spirit known as Drycha Hamadreth. This one was fun to write. It’s fairly horrific, in spots. Drycha is monster that even the servants of Chaos fear, and for good reason.

Both stories are also linked by their antagonists–the knights of the Most Blightsome Order of the Fly. The debased warriors of this twisted order are a foul mockery of the chivalric heroes of the World-That-Was, devoted to the worship of Nurgle. I had a lot of fun writing these guys. They’re a twisted parody of Arthurian knighthood, worshipping at the altar of despair and disease, rather than courage and mercy. And, hopefully, this won’t be the last time we see them, either during the war in Ghyran, or elsewhere, serving the whims of the Lord of All Things…

Legends of the Age of Sigmar: Sylvaneth is available to preorder in hardback and ebook from Black Library. A softback edition will be available sometime next year.

WIP Wednesday #26: Hell Week

It’s hell week. Multiple pitches to write, a book and a short story to finish. Revisions to do. Oh, and an audio script to start work on. So, you’re just going to have to make do with some Junior Kimbrough.

The Delphic Bee

Ulthar Press has announced that their newest anthology, Carnacki: The Lost Cases, is now available. An anthology of all-new Carnacki stories, based on the eponymous ‘lost cases’ of the Ghost-Finder, Lost Cases features stories by William Meikle, John Linwood Grant and A.F. Kidd, among others.

From the blurb:

Even Carnacki, the great ‘Ghost-Finder’, himself has cases that he will not speak about. In these 12 tales, we learn the details of those ‘Lost Cases’ that Carnacki talked about only in hushed whispers. Learn the truth behind “The Steeple Monster Case”, the horror of “The Grunting Man”, the creeping terror of “The Grey Dog” and so much more. When you have learned the truth behind these cases, you may find yourself haunted as well!

My contribution, “The Delphic Bee”, fits into my Royal Occultist series, if you take my word for it. It takes place prior to “Monmouth’s Giants” (Carnacki: The New Adventures), in which Thomas Carnacki meets a young Charles St. Cyprian for the first time. In “The Delphic Bee”, Carnacki investigates an apiarian phantasm in darkest East Sussex, and finds himself dealing with both more and less than he bargained for.

Carnacki: The Lost Cases is available in trade paperback, and will soon be available for the Kindle.