C.P.D. Harris's Blog, page 61

Teaser Tuesday

In two days I will upload Warbound: The Shield Maiden to Amazon. If all goes well it will be available for download on Thursday.

I want to thank everyone who helped me out or offered encouragements. This year has been tough, with several deaths and unfortunate events, not just for me, but for my family and friends. With your help I persevered, perhaps even prospered in some ways. I am truly lucky to have friends, family, and fans who care so much.

Here is the final version of the cover.

The Final Version

Damn fine work.

And here is one last set of teasers for ya’ll. I hope you enjoy the book.

Finally, the time came to embark. The Bright Company, Ninth Legion in tow, marched through the North Gates of the Capital, down through the tall-house tenements, up through the industrial districts and out onto a long pier full of ships.

            The people of Krass lined the streets to watch the procession. The expedition to Ithal’Duin was seen as folly by some, but most people were eager for tales of new lands and the hope of new opportunities that they might bring.

            Chosen Brightloch, smiling at the head of the parade, with strange-eyed Ri[click]va at his side drew many cheers. Some among the crowd remembered his time in the arena, fifty years past.

Vintia marched with the Eighth Cohort, the first unit of the Ninth Legion to reach the ships. The engineers of the Eighth would oversee the loading of artillery and other delicate equipment through out the day, while the rest of the Legion would assist the civilian pioneers.

            Legions on campaign typically included a contingent of professionals that tended to their needs.  These ranged from smiths and healers, to herdsmen and cooks. The Bright Company included a much larger number of these, adding prospectors, surveyors, and many other specialists who would ready the Chosen’s Domain for settlers.

            Many of these civilian pioneers had been handpicked by Brightloch himself. They were rugged travellers who rode in collapsible waggons. Whether stream powered, elemental, or animal driven, these waggons would be rapidly dissassembled and stowed aboard the ships.

            Over two dozen transport vessels, escorted by a trio of fearsome Ironclads, would make the journey.

            A smaller crowd gathered the next day, as the sun rose and the ships finally set sail. Vintia scanned the people gathered, a cheering mass, looking for familiar faces as they wind pushed them away from home and toward adventure.

And here is a second bit. These excerpts twere added to the book during late re-writes, both based on reader feedback, from my sister and brother, if I recall correctly.

“I like it here,” said Sadira looking out over the Spires of Kirif from a sheltered cove. They lay on the beach, naked and entwined, watching the Fologi play in the wake of three massive ironclads headed to Fort Nerus.

“It is rather far from Krass,” said Gavin. “Are you sure?”

“You and I are only allowed a single Domain,” said Sadira. “And a single vote in the Council of the Chosen. Why hurry? We can also communicate without a link over long distances. What stops us from continuing our explorations here? I am fond of the idea that others won’t be looking over our shoulders all the time.”

“So be it,” said Gavin. “Let us be a little more open about it than Chosen Brightloch.”

“I would prefer to stay out of Kirifan politics as much as possible,” said Sadira.

Gavin laughed. “What about your plans to reconquer Avenholt?”

“Don’t think I’ve given up on that, Gavin,” said Sadira. “I am an ambitious woman, and I am learning the value of patience. I will follow that dream when I am ready. I will enjoy the fruit that is Ithal’Duin while it is at hand, learn what I can, and move on. We don’t have to settle here.”

The Cover, In rough

After a long day I had Dan’s first full draft of the cover for the Warbound: The Shield Maiden waiting for me!

The First Image (note the brightness of the purple)

I like the composition, but the purple struck me as too intense. After discussing this and a few other changes with Dan, here is the second iteration.

The Second Draft

Compare the two. I find the second more to my liking. I suggested a few more changes, which are not on this version. Mainly positioning font stuff. In all I am very happy with it.

The Shadow Wolf Sagas: Blade Breaker 1.23

Once again, Ragnar Grimfang is on the prowl… in my weekly serial story.

The first Shadow Wolf entry.

Last week’s entry, for those who missed it.

I certainly hoped it was fear that I saw in Lily Gemarkand’s eyes. A man has his pride.

Her guards escorted me from the compound. I was barely given time to clean the blood off my armour. I did not fancy having to explain a crimson stain to glory seeking Old Town watchmen.

It was  a welcome relief then, when the evening rain began to beat down on the tiled roofs of those venerable houses, washing me clean. I escaped Old Myrrhn with little hassle.

I was in no mood to return to the comforts of the little house I shared with the twins. Miss Gemarkand’s arena battle left a foul taste in my mouth. It is not that I minded killing Ravak Kal Marud. The Devout are murderous bastards who made a religion of might making right. They are a source of sorrow and destruction wherever they are found, and I saw no evidence that he had been any different. More than that, he had been a worthy opponent, despite not being ascended. His physical prowess and his skill at arms had been more than I expected. I did not regret killing him. Our duel would be a tale worth repeating.

Although having that fight forced upon me was vexing. My people value freedom even more than glory, and being forced into a fight, however worthy, for the entertainment of a spoiled merchant princess was an affront. I wondered how I could possibly gain vengeance on one of the few people powerful enough to sleep easy the city of assassins. Nothing leapt to mind. Other Nordan might have been able to rouse their kinsmen for a raid or an embargo, but I was an exile. I would have to let it go, for now.

Lost in thought, I wandered the dark, rain slick streets of the city, crossing over onto Market Isle. The empty stalls and quiet waggons were a far cry from the bustle the day would bring. A few caravan guards eyed me suspiciously from small gatherings. I thought for a moment about trying to find the roving night bazaar, the city’s best black market, but even that challenge seemed sour to me tonight.

I left the market, heading out via the Emperor’s Arch, the newest and most impressive bridge in Myrrhn. An enormous span of iron and cable the bridge arched over several of the poorer islands, allowing visiting merchants to make their way directly to Market Isle without having to navigate some of the less reputable neighborhoods. Unlike the rest of the city the gleaming metal form of the bridge seemed almost limp in the wet and the dark.

There were observation platforms on the bridge. I made my way to one that have me a good view of the sea to the north and west.

I was bothered by my lack of progress. I believed the assassin, Sapphire’s erstwhile lover when he said he did not kill her. I also believed Lily when she said that Sapphire was far more useful to her alive. That left me with no immediate suspects for what seemed to be a very personal killing.

I had to be missing something.

Teaser Tuesday

This is my second to last teaser Tuesday, before the release of Warbound: The Shield Maiden on July 17th.

 

I drew up a few battle maps, similar to the one above. I am actually considering including them in the final work. The maps won’t make much sense without the book as context, but might help some people imagine the scale a little better. Also maps are cool.

This is part of the cover, still very rough. It depicts the banner of the Ninth Legion from this passage:

Legion standards are sacred to the men, and thus act as a sufficient focal point for this kind of Oath. The standard of the Ninth was a stylized Phoenix, wings spread in a halo of fire, in gold on a royal purple cloth. In gold letters, above the gold braid at the bottom of the standard, was the Regiment’s motto: Always, we rise. Bosh liked the colours, but wasn’t hot on the phoenix; in his mind a proper banner had a ferocious beast on it. His favourite banner was that the Twenty-Seventh Legion, which had a vicious looking Tusker on it.

And no, I couldn’t resist the pun.

The plan this time around, also a teaser.

Soon

We are coming up on the release of Warbound: The Shield Maiden, the third book in my Domains of the Chosen series, on July 17th. I am hoping to capitalize on what I have learned from my previous releases and maybe get into the top 100 this time. Getting as high as possible in the lists ensure that the book gets exposed to more readers. Here is the plan as it stands.

Teasers!: Putting out teasers has generated some excitement for the book, and as a bonus it has also generated some extra feedback. I started the Tuesday Teasers for Warbound about two months ago, and this year I have also written several posts about tactics and the strange cultures encountered in the new book to wet the appetite.
Release Warbound: The Shield Maiden before I go to bed on Wednesday evening: This way It should clear the hurdles for the amazon store by noon or so.
Offer deals on Bloodlust: A Gladiator’s Tale and Bloodlust: Will to Power. I am going to add kindle countdown deals for the first two Domains of the Chosen books in order to encourage people to pick up all 3. This also puts these books on the countdown lists, which is yet another point of exposure. These extra lists will feed into a surge for all of the Domains works.
Offer Bloodlust: The Great Games for free: My short story is a decent sample for the series, putting it up for free will attract more readers. It is also up for free on Smashwords. I have a link page at the back of the story, which directs people to the blog and the other works in the series. Like it or not, having at least one work available for free all the time is almost mandatory for a small timer like myself. It is also another list on which my books will show up on. More lists = more exposure.
Goodreads Giveaway: I am running a goodreads Giveaway for a signed copy of books 1 & 2 from the 12th to the 19th. The giveaway is a real wildcard for me. I have no idea how effective they are, or what kind of pitfalls to expect. My hope is for extra exposure to the work. Interestingly enough I have higher ratings on Goodreads than on Amazon, so maybe I will get lucky.
Internet Soft Push: I will likely put out a few small posts about the release on various reddits and twitter, and try to get people to push me on social media on the seventeenth. I am uncomfortable pushing too hard, because these are communities that resist aggressive salesmanship from relative unknowns.
Conditional Internet Hard Push: If and only if I break the top 100 in any of my amazon categories I will start a second, slightly more aggressive push. I see this as a genuine accomplishment and won’t mind bragging about it a little bit.

That is the basic idea. Unfortunately this has been a tough year for us, with tragedies and delays all over the place, so the campaign was a little more limited.

ARC Copies: I did not have time to give out Advanced Reader Copies in exchange for early reviews. Last year a 1 star driveby by a fake reviewer on Bloodlust: Will to Power stunted sales after the second day. Eventually that reviewer was banned, but it did some damage to my chances to make the top 100. This year I wanted to insulate myself from 1 stars and give some loyal fans a chance to get their hands on the book a little earlier. Sadly, life gets in the way. As it is we will have to work hard to get the book edited by the release date.
Reader Feedback: I wanted to get more reader feedback as well, but that is always the case, I suppose.

So that is the plan, I will let you all know how it worked out after release!

Here is a little teaser:

The war-barge in which Jaff rode rocked in the water. Men began to shout and scream behind him. Turning, Jaff caught sight of an armoured figure, a broad-shouldered woman in dark leathers, caught a blade with a buckler claw, cutting her assailant open from groin to gullet. Blood splashed across Jaff’s face. The deck became a trap as some of the hands pushed towards this deadly Krassian, while others struggled to escape her. In two heart-beats, Jaff watched the woman sidestep a lunge from a man twice her size, slashing his throat, then stabbing a screaming man, was it Gish?, with a lunge of her own.

Then the leather clad killer simply looked at a man charging her and his head simply exploded as if hit by a cannon shot. Magic. Krassian magic. Jaff’s blood went cold. He looked over the side into the bloody water. Ominous shapes swam beneath the surface picking at the dead. He looked back at the melee on the ship. Half the men were dead…

In each battle I create a character or two to give extra perspective to the action. A single perspective is rarely broad enough for a large battle, I find, unless you want a heap of exposition at the end where the character learns what happened on a broader scale.

 

 

The Shadow Wolf Sagas: Blade Breaker 1.22

Once again it is Thursday, and Ragnar Grimfang is on the prowl.

What is this? It is a serial, here is the first post.

Miss last week’s post? here it is.

Appear weaker than you are to foil a fearsome foe. Tis a favoured saying in Nordan lands, and one that has served me well in duels and street fights. Ravak Kal Marud, the hulking Devout greatswordsman, made a triumphant sound as he ran towards me, his blade arcing down toward my head as I made a show of getting up slowly. In reality, I was getting ready to spring. I shifted the grip on my axe, keeping my head lowered but watching his boots as he came in. Two steps carried him close. I surged up, taking a step to the side. I felt the wind as his sword swept past me, a silvered arc. I stepped towards him, bringing my axe up underhanded, backspike first. I saw his eyes widen, sensed him shifting. But his momentum was too great and the spike caught him under his chin, driving into his mouth and head. Blood dripped onto my hand and I pulled, swinging my hammer toward his head with my other hand. I felt a sense of triumph as his sword clattered to the ground.

But Ravak Kal Marud surprised me with his resilience. His hands shot up, one grasping my axe hand like a vice, the other snatching the haft of my hammer. With relentless strength he twisted the hammer from my grasp, pulling me close and raising my own weapon to dash my brains out. I caught his wrist as it descended, not enough to stop the blow, but reducing the impact. The corners of the hammer bit into my scalp, and my vision swam. He raised the hammer again. I sent a hobnailed boot crashing into his groin.

Ravak Kal Marud grunted. His codpiece absorbed most of the blow but not all of it. His meaty paw was still clamped around my axe-hand. I grabbed my knife from my belt, a smooth motion born of long practice. He swung the hammer again, clumsily this time. I sidestepped, then stepped in and rammed the blade into his throat. Blood ran out from around the edges then splashed forth in a torrent as a pulled the blade free. He staggered but did not fall. I heard the crowd cheer then felt something crash into the side of my head. My vision was consumed by darkness.

<>

I know death. I have tasted the primordial darkness beyond and lost hold of myself, consciousness and spirit. This was to death as dipping one’s toe in a pool is to drowning in the boundless depths of the sea. I did not panic. In truth it was not unpleasant.

My eyes opened; light flooded in. I could see shapes moving, the crowd beyond the cage, still unfocused, their cheers and jeers giving them away. They sounded foolish, too self-conscious for fans — give me a crowd at a Nordan fistfight any day. They weren’t cheering for me. I looked around. A swollen mass jiggled towards me. I shook my head and the vision resolved into Ravak Kal Marud, holding his throat close with one hand, his other on the axe. With a grunt he pulled the back-spike out of his jaw and turned to me.

When confronted with a man who simply refuses to die, men without real courage will run. I have seen it often enough with warriors facing a berserker in my homeland. I admired Ravak’s fortitude, but I did not hesitate. As he stumbled forward, raising the axe, eyes wide, I rolled back over my shoulder. My head swam, but I grabbed his greatsword as I came to my feet swinging wildly.

The sword clove through one leg, breaking as the armour of the second. Ravak tumbled forward, gurgling, axe brushing past me as I pivoted, slamming into the ground. As the clatter of his armour hitting the metal grate ended, I rammed the remains of his sword into the back of his head. He jerked and stopped moving.

I watched Ravak’s corpse for signs of life. The hood slowly turned crimson.

The little crowd cheered. I snarled, just a little. I suspect my wolf-teeth were showing; they often do when I fight.

My eyes met those of Lily Gemarkand. Outwardly she was as haughty as ever, her face a studied portrait of arrogant nonchalance. But deep down I could sense that she saw me truly now. Was it fear I saw in her eyes?

Teaser: Map of Ithal’Duin

Here is my hand-drawn map of Ithal’Duin for Warbound: Shield Maiden

Western Ithal’Duin

The scan came out well enough. I’m guessing Dan will eventually spruce it up a bit.

Teaser Tuesday

Happy Canada Day!

I am trying hard to get the last re-writes finished for the release of Warbound: The Shield Maiden, Domains of the Chosen Book 3. If anyone who had read the other books wants an advanced copy in exchange for a review when I release it on July 17th, let me know.

The horn-blast knocked Razorthorn off the bridge, along with the Gold Mask she had been fighting. The shock-wave crashed into her with the force of a charging Tauran. She was hurled into the air, arms flailing, blood gushing from her ears and mouth. The pain was exquisite.

She caught a grand view of the late afternoon sky and then she smashed into the water. The Gold Mask plunged in somewhere nearby. The dark forms of the Fologi knifed towards them. Razorthorn dove deeper, ignoring her body’s panicked need for breath. She heard thrashing above her as her feet struck the bottom. Gathering her strength she pushed off and kicked towards the surface, aiming for the Deomen’s side of the river.

Remarkably, none of the Fologi attacked her.

Razorthorn swam twenty paces towards the riverbank. The incline was steep here, meant to discourage and hinder attacking forces. The Ogress was considering how to ascend when she felt a nudge on both her feet. A chill went down her spine. She turned. There were a two large black cetaceans in the water behind her. She started to channel when they swam forward and gently nudged her feet again, lifting her out of the water.

“I see,” said Razorthorn, grinning now. “Do it!”

I think I’ve put this up before. Regardless, I like it. Razorthorn is one of the Gladiators Gavin fought in the Death Leagues in Bloodlust: Will to Power, who become Sadira’s Hearthbound. Sadira respects the Ogress’s power as well as her purity through pain ideological bent.

The Fologi are cannibalistic Dolphins who are part of Kirifan culture.

I like the passage because it leads to an attack stunt involving a Dolphin push. When I wrote it I was thinking of a picture of my sister playing with Dolphins.

My Grandfather

Granddad and Grandma at GLC

My Grandfather passed away this week, just over a month after his wife of seventy years. (Obituary)

While my Grandfather was ninety-two, his passing was a bit more of a shock to me than my Grandmother’s. He seemed to be in good health and good spirits when I visited him for our usual Friday lunch, despite Grandmother’s recent passing. When I left, too soon, harried and hurried, thinking of my upcoming book release and a million other things, I simply said: see you next week Granddad. He nodded, grinned, and said he looked forward to it. It was not to be.

I miss him.

I was asked to speak at his funeral. My Grandfather was not as immediately outspoken as his wife. When I think of him the quote from Wise Man’s Fear by Patrick Rothfuss about how the anger of a gentle man is something to fear, leaps to mind. Grandfather was so resolute and constant that I can see why this is so.

Here is what I will say (work in progress):

My Grandfather was a giant of a man, broad and strong, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. He carried weights on his shoulders that would crush most men, and I never heard him complain. He survived depression, war, raising children in chaotic times, and many other challenges. He not only bore his responsibilities stoically, but he thrived under them. He was a true believer in democracy, working on the front lines to support the greatest expansion of civil rights and social programs in history, helping ensure that the depression that he grew up in was not repeated. Even as he grew older he often volunteered as poll clerk or elections official. It was a joy to talk about these things with him.

Part of his great strength came from a rich streak of optimism. He was not blind to the failings of men, but he chose to focus on the positive. Grandfather rarely complained, even as old age and pain crept up on him. He never grumbled about the way the world had changed, or how things were better in his youth. In all of our discussions he counselled me to stay away from anger and not let negative emotions influence my actions. That was the way he lived. He tried to find the positive way and follow it. always. It takes a strong man, truly strong, to quietly stick to his convictions no matter what the state of the worlds and never descend into cynicism.

My Grandfather was like a mighty oak, I’m telling you true. He grew deep roots, creating stability where he lived. I remember stepping into a restaurant with my Grandparents when I was younger. Grandfather had been retired for a few years, but people still recognized him from his days at the cooperators and came forth to greet him. He was a early member of many organizations, tireless in his volunteering, from Church, to politics, to charities of all sorts. Just as he was a strong believer in family, he was a strong believer in community. Granddad lived to help, always

Grandfather’s roots made it easy for people of all ages and creeds to approach him. He welcomed many of my friends into his home, sharing his table, listening intently to their tales and offering his insights freely. He might seem quiet at first, but Grandfather was a deep thinker and enjoyed conversing with anyone who was willing to sit and chat with him. He was always interested in everything his children and grandchildren did. How many young people can brag that their exploits as children have been written about? and yet Grand father wrote about us, his family and his friends in his memoirs and his Christmas letters. When I visited him I often heard the latest news or who had visited him recently and what they had talked about. Even when it became a struggle, a real struggle for him to write these letters he persevered, and when he couldn’t he used his voice, he did this because he believed in roots.

My Grandfather was a wise old master, like Yoda or Oogway from popular fiction, I’m not lying. He was always curious. Granddad never lost his interest in knowledge. He was never far from the Toronto star, the Guelph mercury, Consumer reports, or some a book on some new subject. I remember how excited he was to read about Nunavut and the history of the northern territories when my sister began to work there. It was the same with all of his grandchildren, he was always excited to listen to what they had learned. Despite the fact that he was not a big fiction reader and slowing down to boot, he still found time to read and comment on my first book. His love of knowledge made him insightful, and he often had good advice on a wide variety of subjects from the practical, like taxes and consumer good, to the odder fields like philosophy and scientific discovery. I loved his tales of working with the first computers, the machines his father built, and of course the beloved airplanes that were the cutting edge of his adult life.

Granddad was always willing to share his knowledge and share his time. If he had been born as a millennial he would have a popular blog on mechanics, or modern life and other useful subjects. Instead he clipped and shared newspaper clippings on a variety of subjects, keeping them for the people he thought would be interested. In my time with him I received articles on politics, game design, the environment, the economy, and writing. he was always willing to discuss these, to help me grow, and learn and become a better person.

For those of us who had the pleasure of knowing Howard Harris well, he was truly a man of epic proportions, a quiet kind of hero. He was a member of Greatest Generation, a much deserved accolade in his case. He built communities. He was humble and stoic. He learned and share his wisdom and curiosity with everyone who gave him their time. Men like my grandfather are the foundation of good countries, good gatherings, and good families. I miss him.

The Shadow Wolf Sagas: Blade Breaker 1.21

Once again it is time for the adventures Nordan Twiceborn Ragnar Grimfang, trying to make sense of a murder in the city of Assassins.

Start the serial here.

Missed last week’s Blade Breaker? try this.

“You don’t actually believe I’d trap you in a private arena and not make use of the occasion, do you Mr Grimfang?” asked Lily Gemarkand, eyes wide and smiling like a spoiled young child at her nameday celebration.

“Family tradition and all that, I suppose,” I said, shaking my head. I was more dismayed by the fact that Miss Gemarkand knew she could get away with this and even expect me to accept her money afterwards. In the North, not even a king could dare such a act without facing rebellion. Sadly I was not in North. “You do realize that I am going to charge double because of this.”

She laughed. As I listened, shuffling uncomfortably, some part of me still wondering if this was simply a jest on her part, men and women began shuffling into the room. My fists balled up. Ladies in bright silk society dresses began to take seats behind Lily, chatting excitedly with men in long black coats and tricorner hats. My blood began to boil. The head of the Gemarkand family herself watched me intently, like a child lording over an anthill. My lips curled into a snarl.

Blondie and several other guards filed in behind the guests.

After a moment, Lily turned to her guests.

“This is Ragnar Grimfang,” she said. “He’s a Northman. A twiceborn ascendant, I am told. Look at those eyes, see the beast that lurks within him. Ragnar had come to our city. He pretends he is like us. But he is still wild. We shall soon see how wild.”

She turned smiled down at me. I pictured my hands on that delicate throat, blood and fangs. Lily paused.

“You might ask where I might find a worthy foe for such a man,” said Lily, “However, this is Myrrhn and I am a Gemarkand. Gold provides.”

As she spoke a trapdoor opened in the floor of the little arena. An armoured hood appeared, followed by a massive, muscular body covered in sharp plates. I recognized the Heraldry at once: I was facing one of the Devout. He surged against the chains holding him in place.

The Devout are a people from a shattered land half a world away from Myrrhn, far to the south of Nordan lands.

“North versus South,” said Lily as I stared into the cold eyes beneath the hood.

He wasn’t ascended, but he would be a skilled warrior no doubt. The Devout worship power with fanatical fervour. They practice selective breeding, trying to create peerless warrior bloodlines. Their children are taught to fight before they can read I’ve heard. This particular specimen was impressively large, his enormous biceps straining against the chains that held him. A greatsword as tall as I am, with a wide, elegant blade stood before him. The cage suddenly felt very small.

An assassin would have struck while his opponent was still chained. I decided against it. I would not want to provoke Lily Gemarkand, and truth be spoken, I wished to face this foe. The Devout have a savage reputation and I had never had the pleasure of facing one.

“I am Ragnar Grimfang, Exile from Clan Shadow Wolf, Southron,” I said, pointing to my chest. “It will be an honour to face you.”

He stopped straining against the chains.

“Ravak Kal Marud,” said the Devout, pointing at his chest. He was even more impressive puffed up to introduce himself. Nearly as tall as a half-giant.

“Boring…” said Lily. The chains fell from Ravak, who immediately snatched his sword.

Contrary to expectation, he did not attack like a rabid animal but instead lifted his blade to a striking position, dominant hand just below his hooded forehead, blade towering above him. his eyes regarded me from either side of the blade, measuring.

I stood at ease, one foot slightly forward, both weapons held low and loose, staring back.

He moved first. Reach favoured him and he slid forward, fast for his bulk and thrust his sword at my face. A lunge is difficult with a blade like his, opening inexperienced wielders to all sorts of balance problems and potential responses. Ravak was skilled enough that I had to bat the blade aside with my axe and smart enough to shift his crossguard just enough to catch the spike of my hammer as I sought to skate it down the blade and puncture his hand.  I stepped in and we clinched, but he shoved me back before I could bury my axe in his neck. His blade whipped through the air, chasing me, a brilliant arc in the torchlit fighting pit.

The small crowd cooed appreciatively.

Using broad flat sweeps of his long blade he drove me back toward a corner of the arena. I fell back until I felt stone behind me, waited for his next swing and ducked, catching his blade from underneath with my weapons and forcing his attack to swing over me while I darted forward and aimed an axe blow at his groin.

Ravak Kal Marud met me with a booted foot, a snap kick square in the shoulder. My axe went wide, glancing off his hip armour, drawing enough blood for one of the more timid nobles in the audience to gasp. The force of the kick robbed my attack of any real momentum, and sent me sprawling away.

I decided to see how smart Ravak was, making the kick seem worse than it was, and fell to the ground, trying to make it look awkward while getting ready to pounce. Ravak, seeing weakness, thundered toward me, raising his blade to strike. I coiled a leg under me to meet him, hoping to give him a nasty surprise.