C.P.D. Harris's Blog, page 62

Tuesday Teaser

A little teaser from my upcoming book Warbound: The Shield Maiden, out July 17th, 2014.

A Fologi ride had landed them on the coast south of the Deomen, and from there they had circled and entered the enemy camp from behind. They killed a few sentries and taken their robes as disguises. The Deomen were lax about security now that the battle was underway, especially with Sadira wearing a Gold Mask. Riritaka had bound the spirit used by the mask’s previous owner, a complex weave that had dazzled Sadira. As a consequence the Pale spirit-binder now knew how to speak the Howling tongue of the Deomen.

While Karmal was a little small for a Gold Mask’s weapon, none of them seemed to question the vicious looking blade.

The shadows under the juggernaut provided ample space to hide, especially with her Shadow manipulations. Even her innate Shadow-Elven talents had grown as a Chosen, and Sadira could now deepen the darkness around them with little effort. The sheer magnitude of the power drawn by the war altar would likely obfuscate her own magic from any Gifted nearby.

Only Bone Masks and slaves to be sacrificed seemed to be allowed to enter the edifice. There was a hold above them which smelled of fear, but that was an unlikely way in. Sadira was not sure if they could fight their way through the juggernaut, and although eager to try, she could sense Gavin’s growing anxiety about the battle. That left climbing. 

Exposition Teaser

I know it is bad form, but every now and then I still like to sneak in a bit of pure exposition into my writing. Here is a bit from Warbound: The Shield Maiden.

After the Reckoning, when the Legions marched forth for war under the banners of Krass and the Chosen, a promise was made. The Chosen, strong as they might be as individuals, still needed soldiers to fight under their banners. Anyone who served in the Legions, or their surviving spouse and children should they perish, would be given a slice of land on the fertile plains and verdant hills nearest the great city. Those early days were as brutal as they were glorious, and the horrors that Gladiators face in the arena are often but an echo of that struggle. The Legion were mortal men and women facing monsters, undead, and wild magic with nothing more than raw courage, good steel, and ruthlessly efficient teamwork. Most of them found their place among the ancestors and are held in highest honour.

The incentive of fertile, safe land outside the crowded walls of Krass proved successful. After decades of being trapped in the city, many were eager to see the outside world. Others just wanted a chance to start something new – to build a legacy for their children. Even after a thousand years these lands are still reserved for Legionnaires, creating a strong military tradition in the families that live there. Some say it is unfair that children cannot inherit the land if they do not serve as their parents did, even if they do receive some compensation when the land is taken. The Legion has held firm to the old bargain, however.

The people now call these lands The Promise.

Pretty self explanatory. I tend to isolate the exposition so that people can skip it if they want.

The Shadow Wolf Sagas: Blade Breaker 1.20

Once again it is time for a Shadow Wolf update. Let’s see what kind of trouble Ragnar finds himself in this week.

What is this? Read the first Blade Breaker.

Missed 1.19? here ya go.

“Did you have your sister killed Miss Gemarkand?” I asked.

She laughed. Of course she did. Lily Gemarkand, at ease in the heart of her family’s power, separated from me by the spell-forged iron bars of an old bloodsport cage, had nothing to fear from me.

“You don’t think it was one of her lovers, Grimfang?” Lily asked.

“Possibly,” I admitted. “But if it is the assassin that everyone is pointing me toward, then he is certainly playing strange.”

“Maybe so, but what makes you think I wanted my sister killed, Mr Grimfang?”

“Having a whore for a sister was an embarrassment for someone consolidating their tenuous hold on a difficult family,” I said.

“Wrong on two accounts,” said Lily, waving her hand. “Rose, Sapphire if you will, was well hidden from the rest of the family. As for a tenuous hold over a difficult family Mr Grimfang, I have had an iron hold over the family stock for over five years. Only my death will end that hold. Malcontents like Freduar help root out any of the other kind of trouble. Your presence here serves as an adequate demonstration of that, I think.”

“Perhaps,” I said, a little arrogance creeping into my voice. “Although, truth be told, I am exactly where I want to be as well.”

“Is that so, Northman?” said Lily. “I have heard you are hard to kill, but you are hardly the first ascended I have had to deal with.”

I realized then that I was dangerously close to getting into a pissing contest with one of the most powerful women in Myrrhn, someone who had clawed her way to the pinnacle while little more than a girl. Unwise, Ragnar, unwise.

“I suspect if you wanted me dead Miss Gemarkand,” I said, “that you would employ other means.”

“Yes,” she said, “thank you for seeing that.”

“So what about your sister then?” I asked.

“Rose had a difficult relationship with father,” said Lily. “But I maintained contact with her. In the end she was actually quite useful in my takeover of the family. The contacts that she made outside of Old Myrrhn have been very useful to me. She was ostracized from polite society and absolutely no threat to my position.”

“I see, so you could slum without drawing notice using the context of visiting your poor disowned sister,” I said.

“Exactly, it is a situation I am sure you are familiar with… exile,” said Lily.

I smirked. I was at a loss now. A child lost in the woods as night falls. The Assassin, the man I knew as Sildus, was not the killer. Lily Gemarkand did not have her sister killed.  Who else would have engaged in an attack that spoke of deep personal anger against Sapphire and her lover?

“could anyone else in the Germakand Clan have been behind this?” I asked.

“Not without my leave,” said Lily. “I keep a tight reign on finances. The kind of money required to hire someone for an assassination, especially one that is not guild sanctioned would never escape my notice.”

“Skygge’s bloody teeth,” I cursed, grumbling. “I have no idea where this trail is leading.”

“Has the wolf lost the scent?” Lily asked, eyes aglitter.

“I won’t be put off that easily,” I said, feeling my blood rise. “I will find Sapphire’s killer if I have to crawl into every shadow in Myrrhn.”

“Will you now?” said Lily.

“By all the gods in the north,” I muttered.

“Excellent,” said Lily. “I can make use of that kind of pig-headed myopia. You see, I am very interested in finding out who ordered the death of my dear Sister, Mr Grimfang. I will be glad to pay you for that information and the proof that goes with it.”

“I have already been retained by Madame Glorianna,” I said. “My first loyalty must go to her in this matter.”

Lily waved her hand as if swatting at an insect. “That is no concern of mine. I simply want to know.”

“Fair enough,” I said. “As long as you understand.”

“I do,” said Lily. “If you can pass my test, consider yourself on my payroll.”

“Test?” I blurted.

“You don’t actually believe I’d trap you in a private arena and not make use of the occasion, do you Ragnar?”

 

 

Teaser Tuesday

A rough mockup of the cover for Warbound: The Shield Maiden.

A month from today I hope to release the digital version Warbound: The Shield Maiden (and sell lots of copies!). I am nervously setting about preparations, editing, minor re-writes, creating glossaries, and writing appendices. The cover is coming along nicely — see the above mockup — and I think the book is nearly up to standard. I just hope that fans are willing to follow me as I transition from the fighting grounds to the battlefield.

That said, here is another teaser

All around them chaos swirled, the disciplined ranks of the First and the Eighth having broken apart as the two Warbound crashed and thrashed. Vintia barely noticed now, her eyes were on Bosh.

“You’re done now, girly,” said Bosh. “Ain’t nothing for you to hide behind.”

“Come finish me then, scum,” said Vintia, squaring her shoulders and drawing her long shock stick into a classical fighting stance, grip held out from her body at waist height, tip of the blade angled up to point at Bosh’s throat.

A white liveried medic dragged at a moaning body near them. Vintia kept her eyes on Bosh. He met her gaze, gathering himself like some great cat, and sprang. Her sword flicked out, lunging. Bosh twisted, even in the air. Vintia never saw if her blade connected. Bosh’s fist hit her in the midsection. She felt her feet leave the ground. Her armour absorbed most of the force but she lost her breath for a heartbeat. That was all Bosh needed. His arms coiled around her and he bore her to the ground. By the time Vintia could react it was too late. The back of her head slammed into the dirt with a crunch. Bosh’s fist smashed into her mouth. Once. Twice. She tasted blood. Tried to struggle. Vintia blocked his third punch but his other hand was now around her throat. The law of strength was in full force. She tried to hit his joints, to loosen his hold, but Bosh punched her again. She felt one of her teeth hit the back of her throat. The world went steadily darker, but she kept struggling. Bosh kept grinning. Vintia reached for her magic. Maybe she could break the restraints…

“ARMS GROUNDED,” The First Shield’s voice boomed out.

Bosh’s Fist slammed into Vintia’s face one last time. She clung to consciousness as the massive Warbound stood up, laughing. He raised his arms and laughed, walking back to his own lines. Cheers were erupting from all over the field. 

Bosh is an interesting character to me. I added him partly to act as a counterpoint to Vintia, and partly because I was watching HBO’s Rome (yes, very late) and enjoyed the idea of a Titus Pullo character — a brash, crude, bullying, but ultimately effective soldier. I think he adds some personality to the Ninth Legion. I hope you do as well.

Warbound: The Shield Maiden, Glossary Teaser.

Part of the joy of a good fantasy book is to see how the author uses language to describe the fantastical elements. There are many schools of thought, from conlanging  (con-lang = constructed language) to descriptive names. I use a bit of both in this book. Role-playing games s well have amazing terminology, words bent and hammered or made up to accommodate wondrous concepts. Another great source of glossary words is organizational jargon. My Bloodlust books, the first two in the Domains of the Chosen series, have an extensive glossary, crafted to capture the feel of the Chosen and the  Gladiatorial games, and the language these groups use.

Warbound: The Shield Maiden, the third book in The Domains of the Chosen (Out in ebook format on amazon — July 17) series focuses on another jargon-rich organization: the Legions. I wonder how much a potential reader can glean from the words I am adding to the glossary this time around.

[Click]ka: A Kirifan word that combines the ideas of a traitor and a flaunter of sacred traditions. (Note: The [click] represents a tongue click which is used in some real-world languages, I added [click] and [pop] to some Ithal’Duin languages to differentiate them from that of the Domains and Pre-Reckoning fragment languages.)

Angelfall: 459 AR. The Angelfall is considered the event that began the civil war between the Chosen that lasted from 459-462 AR. It is called the Angelfall because of the dramatic death of Chosen Aitheria who was overpowered and thrown from the east balcony of the Hall of the Chosen, in full view of the Grand Arena crowds.

Arkelian Converter: An Arkelian converter creates pure elements (not the scientific kind!) from base elements. Elemental earth, air, fire, and water all have special properties that make the intense and difficult process worthwhile.

Creepers: Tainted crustaceans that creep out of the oceans and paralyse their prey and then suck out the brain and soft innards. They have a probiscus that can chew through bone and shell.The Kirifans herd them and eat them.

Daer: Daer is an underground city built like the Shadow-elf cities of old, one of several such places built in the Domains. Daer is a free city, and does not fall under the rule of the Chosen. Daer is Sadira’s home city.

Fologi: The Fologi are large cetaceans that have developed a symbiotic relationship with the Kirifans and the tainted coral of the Spires. Fologi are intelligent. Fologi Gifted also exist. They look like Dolphins, but are more predatory. They are cannibalistic and devour the enemies of the Kirif. They have shown themselves capable of sinking most ships. Kirifan burial often includes allowing the Fologi to feast on the dead.

Flashstones: Enchanted stones that emit a bright flash and a boom, thrown like a grenade. They are used in training instead of regular grenades.

Gallian Road: an extension of the Great Western Way, that passes out through Marius’s Wall and into the tainted lands beyond.

Honeybursts: A tasty fruit that grows in the scrub south of Kirif.

Hundath: A type of slave soldier used by the Kirif. The Hundath wear light armour and are armed with vicious, crude weapons. They are plied with drugs and instilled with religious fervour, hoping that their deeds earn them the right to be reincarnated as one of The Blood when they die or davance further on the great wheel. The drugs also give the Sword-Bearers a measure of control over these berserkers. The Vvath use them as expendable shock-troops.

Jika/Jika’Ri: The Jika is a cerimony, a form of ritual mass combat that takes place between the spires. Jika’Ri is the drug that is used in this combat, giving the drinker incredible strength and swiftness while slowly draining them of life. Kirifan elites carry Jika’Ri and will use it in war, if the situation is dire.

Kirrute: Trees are rare near Kirif. Instead the land is dominated by gigantic grasses called Kirrute. The Kirif harvest immature Kirrute and use it to make a tough form of wicker.

Khazak Khrim: Khazak Khrim is a fortress that once guarded an important nexus of trade routes. When the Reckoning came, the Dwarves were cut off from the rest of the Empire and force to rely on their own devices. They became increasingly isolationist. This coincided with the creation of the Vvath swords, the famed Blades of Khazak Khrim, which could store the spirit of the Dwarves who forged them. Later it was discovered that the spirits in these blades could overwhelm the wills of other who wielded them. The Dwarves of Khazak Khrim then began to gift these magnificent weapons to the chieftans of neighboring tribes, creating the Sword-Bearers.

Makarim: Makarim are massive tusked creatures. Picture a cross between a triceratops and wooly mammoth. They are used as beasts of war by the Vvath.

Pershing’s Gap: In 1117 AR a massive force of The Pale ambushed the Ninth, Fifteenth, and Twenty-First Legions, nearly destroying them. Legate Vintillius Legarda managed to rescue the remnants of the Ninth and hold The Pale at bay, using a series of three narrow gaps, until reinforcements could arrive. Although considered a great Victory for the Legions, the cost was prohibative.

Shield Maiden: An honoured ancestor from long before the Reckoning. The Shield Maiden is remembered for defending the only passage into Krass.

Shugothoth: Shugothoth is a sentient disease born of the experimentation of the Vvath and wild magic. The Vvath were attempting to breed more powerful war animal, subjecting them to the taint. During the process an accident occured and the Shugothoth was born. It is an magical contagion that can waro the patterns of its host. Dwarves and the gifted are immune to the disease.

Spikers: Spikers are artifice weapons that fire a variety of metallic darts. They use a combination of air power, springs, and magic. Think of them as a faster firinh crossbow.

Shockpucks: A shockpuck is a munition used to simulate a cannon round in training. It delivers a painful shock to a small area.

Short File Escort: A type of Legion specialist. The short file is made up of Legionnaires the size of a Quickling. They reinforce the front-rankers, filing gaps, bracing, and attacking enemy formations close to the ground. They are often called cappers, since good short files wreak havoc by inflicting crippling leg injuries on enemy soldiers.

Sword-Bearers: The Vvath Sword-Bearers are shells controlled by the blades they wield. Within each sword is the spirit of the Dwarf who forged it, whose will eventually overcomes and destroys that of the wielder. A Sword-Bearer separated from the blade for more than a day becomes either vegetative or berserk. Some Sword-Bearers have a stable of shells, bodies that they wear, conditionned to different purposes.

The Sword Bearers control the rest of the Vvath empire. The leaders of each nominally independent province or state are all Sword-Bearers. The Sword-Bearers are also the priests of the Vvathi God.

Sword-Bearers are all skilled fighters, having honed their swordsmanship as living Dwarves and also retaining any skills from the bodies they absorb. They are able to to push their host bodies to supernatural limits. The Blades of Khazak Khrim are also able to disrupt or cut the weaves of spells directed at the wielder or the blade.

Some Sword-Bearers develope other powers, especially if they absorb a Gifted host.

Vvath: In their own words the Vvath are a loose alliance of tribes and nation states that Dominate the South-western parts of Ithal’Duin. In reality they are a full blown empire ruled by the Dwarves of Khazak Khrim, an ancient fortress that survived the Reckoning intact. While Khazak Khrim is ruled by noble families, the Empire is held together by the Sword-Bearers who act as priests of the Vvathi God. The Vvath are very advanced, enough to challenge the Domains.

Vespath: A type of Vvath slave soldier. Vespath use bows and blowguns, firing into the enemy from amidst the rolling mass of of Hundath. They are chosen for swiftness and precision. Vespath are occasionally used as skirmishers on their own. They need less supervision than the berserk Hundath.

The Shadow Wolf Sagas: Blade Breaker 1.19

After missing my tuesday teaser post this week, it is time to come roaring back with some Shadow Wolf…

New? here is the first post

Miss the latest? here is last week’s post

Freduar seemed lost in his cup, while a shudder passed through the rest of the patrons in the little tavern as the pair of large men walked over to the little wrought-iron table we were seated at. Ruffled sleeves seemed out of place covering bulging muscles and lace cuffs could not hide the scars and callouses of fighting men. These two were wolves in men’s clothing. I smiled up at them as they loomed.

“Can I help you, gentlemen?” I asked.

Freduar’s started, finally catching sight of the two walls of flesh looming over us. He squeaked, like a mouse who catches sight of wings eclipsing the moon, too late, knocking his cup. With the honed reflexes of an aristocratic drunk, he saved the expensive crystal glass before it hit the floor, barely spilling any of rich amber liquid within. His reaction confirmed that these men worked for his cousin.

For a moment I considered fighting them. Fist to fist, a brief chaotic melee, smashing glass and expensive porcelain, spilling hundred year old vintages and shocking the idle rich for a block around. It would be fun, however unproductive.

The tallest of the pair, blond haired and green eyed with a perfectly groomed beard, kept his eyes on me while his partner snickered at Freduar’s fumbling.

“Are you Ragnar Grimfang?” said Blondie, frowning.

I nodded.

“Miss Gemarkand would like a word with you,” said Blondie. Most people would have found the finality in his tone chilling. I, of course, had to hide my eagerness. I wanted to speak to Lily. The danger of the situation was worth the potential risk.

“Certainly,” I said. “Freduar, why don’t you come along?”

“That won’t be necessary,” said Blondie. “Larik will be escorting Freduar back to his estate.”

Larik grinned. Freduar whimpered. I suspected that he was due for some behaviour correction. No doubt Lily Gemarkand kept watch on all of the bitter, but harmless, remains of her family rivals. A good tactic.

I stood, startling Larik. Blondie shifted, but betrayed no surprise, confirming that he was the more dangerous of the two.

<>

The central estate in the Gemarkand compound was built around a seven story tower with a gem encrusted gold cupola at the crown. There were tales about daring thieves trying to steal the gems from the Gemarkand tower, with both good and bad endings. I doubted even the best thief would have much luck stealing a gemstone off the tower under Lily’s leadership. I spotted a small army of well-dressed guards.

Gaudy as it was, I had to admit that the slender tower looked impressive with the sun’s bright rays making it shine and glitter. Too bad for the Gemarkands that that sort of weather in Myrrhn was as rare as  a diamond.

Blondie remained silent as he led me to a small, sturdy side door. I grinned at him as he opened the door, prompting him to roll his eyes. He did not like having me here. I wished that I had worn my bearskin.

He closed the door behind me, a hidden bold slid into place. I was in a cage. A thick iron lattice separated me from a gallery filled with dozens of comfortable seats. My boots clicked on the iron grates that made up the floor. A woman, plain except for her demeanour and clothes that could buy a kingdom, stared at me from the other side of the bars. I stared back at her, waiting in the cage.

“It used to be an arena,” said Lily Gemarkand. Her words were crisp and precise. “My ancestors brought slaves here. Pitted them against each other in bloody combats to the death. My great-grand uncle Terrent, many times removed. kept accounts of the fights he watched here as a boy. Hundreds of men… and women, died right where you are standing mr Grimfang.”

“No one has been killed here in years,” I said. “Although I suspect Blondie regrets that I won’t be getting the metal wet.”

“Kenneth is a little over-protective,” said Lily Gemarkand. “They all are. You are right, however, they fights ended ages ago, after your people swept through here on that crusade of yours. In a way I’m glad, bloodsports can be dull. I learned to balance a ledger instead.”

“You hoped to frighten me?” I asked.

“A little, I admit,” said Lily Gemarkand. “I wanted to see your reaction Mr Grimfang. Besides the boys would not let me talk to you alone without the protection of the bars. They don’t trust the protections I carry on my person as much a the cold iron that kept my ancestors safe from their little sport.”

“Why am I here?” I asked.

“You were talking to my idiotic cousin Freduar, Mr Grimfang,” said Lily Gemarkand, facing me squarely from the stands. “I was naturally curious about what an ascended mercenary in the employ of the Queen of whores wanted with one of the more seditious members of the family…”

I decided that it was time for me to seize the initiative. “Did you have your sister killed Miss Gemarkand?”

 

Stories from my Grandmother

Florence May Harris

My Grandmother’s funeral was yesterday.   She lived from February 26, 1924 to May 21, 2014. Her name was Florence May Harris (maiden name Kettle).

It was a beautiful ceremony, attended by friends and family from all over the country. I had to park down the street from the Church, in fact.

It is hard to qualify the influence that this amazing woman had on me, and really on everyone around her. Like so many of the generation that grew up during the depression and World War II, she had an influence that seemed far out of proportion to that of a single being. My grandmother was the type of person that built communities, and that was evident at her funeral.

Perhaps the beast measure of a person, in my view, is in the stories they tell. Hateful people tend to tell tales that justify their lists of grievances. Blowhards brag about their various victories. Good people tend to tell stories of a different sort. Here are some of my Grandmother’s”

Marriage. My Grandfather, Howard, was a friend of my Grandmother’s brother, Charlie. They met at  and married just before Grandmother turned twenty. My great Grandmother (Grandmother’s Mother) was initially very cautious about her daughter’s relationship. When Florence announced her desire to marry Howard, her mother told her that she would have to wait until next year. They were married on January 1st, 1944. That date says a lot about my Grandmother.
The Sandwich: My grandmother did not like to talk about the depression. Usually she just said that they had what they needed, so it did not feel so bad. Once I pressed the issue, telling her that it was professional curiosity. She related a story about how her father would often invite the hungry into the kitchen and share a sandwich with them. She said he would always close the door to the rest of the house, so they could eat in privacy. My post 9/11 thinking kicked in at that point and I asked if that was for the protection of the family. Grandmother laughed and said no, it was so that their guest could eat in peace and enjoy the dignity of good food without people staring and pitying.
Working Woman: My grandmother was from a working class family and yet finished high school, a relative rarity in her day. Nonetheless her job prospects when she finished were bleak — service (maid etc) was the only readily available job. Nonetheless my grandmother, a lover of math, prevailed and found gainful employment in several fields. She told me many tales of overcoming sexist and just plain annoying employers, but her favourite job story was more about herself. In short while applying for a job she noticed that her prospective employer had made several spelling/math mistakes. During the interview she corrected him, which cost her the job. She was proud of her choice, but also quick to note the consequences and laugh at her lack of diplomacy.
Politics: My grandparents were true supporters of the democratic process, volunteering on election day well into retirement. I enjoyed discussing and debating politics with them, and will sorely miss my grandmother’s perspectives. My grandmother was heavily involved in the creation of the NDP (then CCF) and the canadian healthcare debate. The NDP were often seen as “those damned socialists” in those days, mostly by the type of people who always seem to think society reached its pinnacle during their childhood (or the middle ages) and everything since has been a horrible decline. One of my Grandmother’s favourites stories was about canvassing and putting up signs for her party and drawing the ire of a man who railed against her in anger, and began to get very threatening. Let’s just say Florence gave as good as she got and wore her colours proudly, without fear.
George: My father is named after my Grandmother’s brother, who died of Polio when he was twenty. This was long before the universal health care that Florence helped fight for or the wide-spread use of the polio vaccine. The family gave up everything to pay her Brother’s hospital bills, losing houses and long hours to pay the costs involved. In the end he succumbed. My Grandmother carried her brother with her, in her heart, as long as she lived, painting a vivid picture of him in her stories about him. Through her I know of his wit and his artistic side, his smile and his courage. I feel like I know him, because of her words and stories. To come to know someone who died long before you were born, through stories and sighs, is a profoundly powerful experience. I owe my grandmother much.

We owe much to my Grandparent’s generation. They were not without flaw, to be sure, but they deserve the title of the greatest generation. My grandmother fought for social change, women’s right, equality, and fairness. She did not wallow in the difficulties of a world that often seemed like it was staggering from one crisis to the next with war and nuclear apocalypse looming ever closer. Her solution was always to forge on, in the direction she thought was in the service of her family and her country and the Good (that bright and shining good that seems lost now, even in fiction), no matter if things were murky, or difficult. In the end she willed her way through a congenital heart defect, the loss of an eye, and a long battle with c. dificille, an infection that is usually lethal. She pushed her way to 90 so that she could see her great-grandchildren grow and enjoy the lives of her friends. She never stopped building communities, never stopped anything really, until she finally wound down.

I will carry her in my heart, and speak of her in my stories.

 

The Shadow Wolf Sagas: Blade Breaker 1.18

Once again it is time for an update to my serial series about Nordan exile Ragnar Grimfang, tracking down a murderer in the city of Myrrhn.

Link to the first blade breaker.

Link to last week’s blade breaker.

Lover’s Arch was the most commonly of three bridges that connected the Old Myrrhn to the rest of the city. Since being exiled to Myrrhn I had heard many stories about how the bridge gained its name; my current favourite was a tragic tale of forbidden love that ended with the lovers jumping off the bridge rather than be separated. Of course in the North, this tale would have ended with the two lovers fighting back to back, holding the bridge. If it were a tragedy one would survive.

The entire island of Old Myrrhn was engulfed by a tall stone wall, hiding much of the mansions and grounds from the rest of the city. The bridges all led to stout gates complete with impressive looking portcullises that loomed above visitors, like the teeth of a hungry maw. As I crossed Lover’s Arch I spotted two watchmen with crossbows. I was met by four guards wielding halberds and wearing suits of half-plate armour with menacing helmets.

The guards in Old Myrrhn were paid for by a special “resident’s fee” levied from those who lived there. They answered to the people who ran the island, and not the city itself.

“Halt!” said the largest of the guardsmen as I approached, looking me over. “What brings you to Old Myrrhn?”

His attitude gave the impression that he felt I did not belong here, but he was professional enough not to actually say so. After all, I might be someone of importance, given where I was calling.

“I am here to visit a dear friend,” I said, handing him the Invitation.

The guard pulled up the visor on his helmet as he looked over the invitation. After a moment he nodded, suddenly disinterested.

“Have a great day, sir,” he said, ushering me through the gate. “Can I provide a guide to your destination.”

“I find my way,” I said. “Besides, I might visit some of the parkland on my way through. I hear the Sacred grove of Ellua is lovely this year.”

The guards face did not betray any change of emotion. He merely nodded.

“Just keep that paper with you, sir,” he said. “Other members of the Old Myrrhn Constabulary might ask to see it.”

“Thank you, Captain,” I said, smiling.

<>

Venerable, Ivy-eaten cottages clashed with enormous gleaming mansions amid a verdance that was lacking elsewhere in the colossus of paving stones, treated timbre, tar, sewage, and copper roofing tiles that was Myrrhn. Beds of red roses lined the streets, covering up any odours from the nearby districts. The people were relaxed and secure, which made them friendlier than most. A young woman in a dress with a parasol even ventured a hello in my direction. I had to stop myself from nodding. Manners, Ragnar, manners.

“Good afternoon miss,” I said, making sure to emphasize my accent for her amusement.

“Oh my, we don’t get many Nordan in Old Myrrhn,” said the girl. “What brings you here?”

Something about the exchange set me off. I smiled.

“I’m just here to visit a friend,” I said.

“Ah well, I best leave you to it sir,” said the girl, returning my smile.

I watched her leave, uneasy. My time in the city had left me suspicious of any unnecessary social interaction with strangers that lasted longer than a polite nod. After a moment I moved on rather than gawk in the street, lost in thought.

<>

The enemy of my enemy is my friend.

That was my plan at getting to Lily Gemarkand. Ruthless and smart, Lily had clawed her way to the dominant position in the Gemarkand clan. I had no doubts that she had enemies in the Gemarkand family who could fill me in on her relationship with her sister, the woman I knew as Sapphire.

The first difficulty would be arranging a meeting without drawing attention to myself. As the head of one of the Seven Families, I was sure that Lily Gemarkand could put the “constabulary” on my trail on a heartbeat if I caught her attention.

I began by taking up a position in a small, expensive tavern near the lower parts of the Gemarkand estate. I reasoned that a good target would be a family member who often spent time outside of the estate. Leaving that kind of comfort for something like drinking was a sign that one does not like the company at home.

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His name was Freduar, Lily’s first cousin, a young dandy already fully given over to alcoholism, all save that bitter part of his soul that hated Lily. Normally I would have let such a fop drown his bitterness in bitters, ignoring his whining about how unfair his situation was. Alas, I was force to endure his company for the information I sought. His boredom and indolence made it very easy to strike up a conversation with him. In Old Myrrhn I was an exotic curiosity.

We spoke for an hour, drinking mostly. He painted a lovely picture of the Gemarkand Family. Lily had every surviving member of the family under her power. Secrets that would destroy their reputations at the very least. Freduar repeated the claims that Lily had assassinated her uncles and aunts, but provided no evidence.

“What about her sister?” I asked as time grew short. Old Myrrhn had a curfew for those who bore invitations.

“Oh, you heard about that?” said Freduar, downing a shot. “Funny how that whore turns up now… we all thought that she had ten died years ago. The rest of the city is rough, as I’m sure you know. I Imagine that it shocked even Lily that she’d been alive all this time.”

I was on the verge of asking Freduar what he meant when two burly men entered the tavern. They look at me with cold eyesand moved towards us.

Apparently I was now unwelcome.

Teaser Tuesday

Work in Progress…

This is a rough approximation of the title. My jpg conversion is a little off, but you get the idea. You can see where a little bit of cleanup will be done to make the e and a pop on “the shield maiden” part.

The font is similar to the one Dan made for the Bloodlust books, and I think we have decided to go for a black background. I’m not sure what texture Dan wants to try with the black.

As for the teaser itself:

The plating fit over her leg like stepping into a shell. The metal was smooth to the touch, almost like wet glass; a mithril alloy she guessed. It felt odd as it wrapped around her thigh, but once the fasteners were secured at the back the legging, there was a tingle of magic, and it became much more flexible. The weight was there, but it felt like part of her, hardly more encumbering than her lighter and skimpier arena armour.

Vintia donned the second leg eagerly. The armourer noted that it was more efficient to put on the breastplate first, due to the nature of the metal buckles that were used as fasteners. Vintia lifted this next. The armourer and Hephus exchanged glances as she picked up the thick metal coat of plates with little effort. Vintia was far stronger than she looked. The breastplate fit snugly, breasts and all, tailored to fit her exact measurements on the inside and provide an angled surface that would deflect blows away from her body on the outside. It also seemed to flex as she breathed, feeling initially constrictive but more and more like a second skin as she got used to it.

Vintia donned the arms and the helmet swiftly, spurred by the desire to complete the set and test it out on the training grounds. It seemed wonderfully flexible, heavier, but less archaic than the suit of armour she’d worn as a Gladiatrix. One it was all fastened, she tested the range of movement in her arms, legs, and neck, finding that the interlocking plates slid freely, allowing her a nearly perfect range of movement.

“It’s amazing,” said Vintia, breathless and elated. She felt strong – invincible. “How does it look?”

“You look like some bright and terrible ancestor of war come to life,” said Hephus. “The Shield Maiden Reborn. Almost as good as some of my golems.”

In Warbound, most of the gifted characters are armoured for War, not the arena. This teaser describes Vintia receiving her armour, and enormously heavy metal shell which is twice her own weight. It is not formed or put on like traditional armour, but why should it be? After all Vintia is supernaturally strong and has enough magic in her to power an array of runes that make the thick metal move naturally.

Another consideration that I find is often overlooked when discussing armour is the deflection aspect. Both plate armour and tank armour are made to have as little flat surface presented to opponents as possible, partly to deflect the force of a hit. A good bow might be able to puncture a sheet of steel, but it will have a rough time punching through we well made armoured plate of the same thickness, where most of the force is deflected or broken up.

Another Sunday Teaser

Once again I am a little swamped with re-write work on Warbound: The Shield Maiden, the third Domains of the Chosen novel (Out July 17th) so instead of an insightful blog post, I leave you with a little teaser.

“That’s her,” said a voice. “The new Chosen.”

“Red Scorpion,” said another. “In the flesh.”

“Are you sure that’s her man?” said another. “He don’t look like much.”

“Quiet!” said another. “I’ve seen him kill with a thought.”

Most kept quiet. Sadira savoured the reaction that her unexpected presence caused among the workers, soldiers, and engineers. She almost wished she were dressed in her arena armour. The men and women parted for her as she walked towards the fortress. She smiled at those she passed, hoping to set them at ease.

Sadira wore her full battle regalia for this occasion. Her lustrous black hair was shaved at the sides, around her graceful ears, pulled back at the crown and pulled roughly into braids, twined with chains and spikes. Unlike Gavin she did not modify her arena armour for the battlefield, but instead commissioned a new suit. A thick breastplate, closely fit to her figure, mithril silver with a scorpion made of tiny red rubies set over her heart, was worn over a suit of double-mail so fine that it clung to her like a second skin, loose only at her hips where it formed a short loincloth. Her pauldrons were oversized and spiked, black and red, rising to protect her neck while her gauntlets and boots were strong studded leather, both stylish and brutal.

“Sadira, Chosen!” said a weathered sailor she passed, falling to his knees. “I saw you fight in Dreadwood.”

The Warbound Arc does not focus on style and the crowd nearly as much as the Bloodlust books. Nonetheless, I felt compelled to inject  little bit of Sadira’s latest style (shown in green) into the book, partly to help transition from the arena onto the field of battle. Note that she still isn’t wearing a helm, and that her assembly is likely too heavy for most warriors to wear and nearly priceless. It pays to be Chosen, I suppose.

The adulation the common folk have for their newest Chosen is also evident. Everyone knows who she is, and many worship her.