Eric T. Knight's Blog, page 40

Guardians Watch excerpt (Devastation Wars III)

When Rome had finished his food a silent servant led him down hallways and up stairs, through anterooms and across galleries, until he was thoroughly turned around. ���I���ll never be able to find this place again,��� Rome growled. ���I don���t think I���ve even been in this part of the palace before. Why is this Bereth-cursed place so big?���

The servant shot him a frightened look over his shoulder and scurried on.

Opus appeared suddenly at the top of a short flight of stairs. Behind him were open double doors. ���Right this way, Your Majesty.���

Rome fixed him with a glare. ���What did I say about that ���Your Majesty��� clatter?���

Opus lowered his head in recognition of the rebuke, but the faint smile did not leave his face and Rome had to stifle the all-too-familiar urge to throttle him. Rome clumped up the stairs and into the open doors, where he stopped and stood with his mouth open. ���You could stable horses in here,��� he said at last.

That got to Opus. A stricken look appeared on his face. ���But you won���t, right? You���ll leave the horses outside? I don���t think you could get them up the stairs.���

���Oh, I can take a horse anywhere,��� Rome assured him with a huge smile. It felt good to have the balance shift back to him. ���I can show you right now if you want.���

���No, Macht,��� Opus said weakly. ���I have never doubted your abilities. I only meant that I thought the horses would prefer to remain with their own kind.���

���Sure you did.���

The room Rome found himself in was massive. On the far side were more double doors, opening to a long balcony with potted trees and flowers on it. On one side of the room was a giant bed, buried under a mound of silken pillows and tassels. There were four large wardrobes and thick rugs on the floors. But what drew Rome���s attention first was the mirror. He walked over to stand in front of it. It was very large, taking up a great deal of the wall, and enclosed in an ornate, gilt frame. Below it was a long table with drawers. On the table was an impressive array of combs, brushes, bottles of scented hair oil, powders, scissors and a few things Rome didn���t recognize but might have slipped up here from the torture room in the dungeon.

���Look at that mirror,��� he said with a low whistle.

���It is impressive, is it not?��� Opus said with pride. He actually caressed the frame.

���That���s not what I was thinking. What���s it for?���

���Well, I������ Opus stumbled, at a loss for words. ���It is for looking at yourself, Sire.���

���Waste of time,��� Rome announced. ���I already know what I look like. I���m not likely to forget, am I?���

Opus looked around, saw that the servant had fled and realized he was on his own. ���Of course not.���

���No wonder Rix was such a miserable king,��� Rome continued. ���If he spent all day in here staring at himself.��� He began pawing through the implements laid out in neat rows on the table. ���I won���t be needing any of these. Useless, useless.��� He came on a large brush with a silver handle and picked it up. ���I could brush Niko with this.��� Niko was his favorite horse.

With a small cry Opus plucked the brush from his hand. ���Please don���t jest so, Macht. This is very old. It was a gift from the king of Karthije over a hundred years ago.���

But Rome was already moving on, surveying the four wardrobes. ���All my clothes put together won���t fill one of those,��� he said. ���I guess I could use one for my armor and weapons. That still leaves two. Even if I brought my saddle and all my tack in I���d still have one left over.���

���Oh no, Macht,��� Opus assured him, moving swiftly to the first one and throwing the doors wide. ���These are already full. You can leave your saddle in the stable, I assure you.���

Rome pushed past him and leaned into the wardrobe. ���What���s this? Clothes? Who has this many clothes?���

���They are yours, Macht.���

���Mine? When did I order all these?��� Rome asked suspiciously. He pulled out a bright red shirt with two rows of ornate buttons, wrinkled his nose and tossed it on the floor. ���I can���t believe I���d ever get drunk enough to order this.���

���They belonged to the late king, Sire. Of course, I have had them all cleaned and altered so that they will fit you.���

���Why would I want that old tyrant���s clothes?��� Rome pulled out a yellow shirt with ruffles on the sleeves and let it drop as well.

Opus struggled to find firmer ground. Like any general, he could tell when he had lost the initiative and was on the defensive. ���You never ordered anything else so I didn���t know what to have made for you. And attire such as this is extremely expensive. I know you are a thrifty man so I thought it wiser to refit than repurchase.���

Rome paused and grunted. ���That makes sense.��� Opus straightened. ���But I still don���t want all this. Here, let���s make some room for my stuff.��� So saying, he took a big armload of clothes out. Looking around, he saw no good place to put them so he simply dropped them on the floor.

He went to the next wardrobe and opened it. The first thing he saw was the shoes. Dozens of them on little shelves filling the bottom half of the cabinet. They were in all colors. Some had buckles, some had stripes, and some seemed to have small stones set in them. ���God,��� Rome breathed. ���These are awful.���

���The latest fashions, Sire.���

���Not to me. What���s in here?��� The top half of the wardrobe had little doors covering its contents. Rome opened them and nearly staggered backwards. ���What in Gorim���s blackest nightmares are those?���

���Wigs, sire. Made from the finest maidenhair.��� Opus said it wearily, clearly knowing what reception he would get.

���Wigs, eh? I thought something crawled in here and died.��� Rome took one gingerly between his thumb and forefinger, and pulled it out. It was blond and curly. Rome gave it a little shake, as if expecting it to come to life and bite him. Then he tossed it back and turned around.

���Well, I will stay in here, if that will make you happy, Opus,��� he announced. ���But you���ll have to get rid of this stuff. Give it to some orphans or toss it out to let the dogs chew on. I don���t care. Now, I have things to do.���

���But you haven���t seen the other rooms,��� Opus protested.

Rome stopped and swung around. ���Other rooms, you say?��� His eyes fell on closed doors on either side of the room. He shook his head. ���Another time, maybe.���

Guardians Watch

Watching the End of the World – 8

One more thing: what���s your secret?��� She gestured at the camera on the wall nearby. ���What are you giving up for the camera?���

Nate was ready for this. He knew enough about reality shows to know they thrived on secrets. ���I had sex with one of my mom���s friends ��� one of her much younger friends ��� when I was in high school.���

���That���s what you���re going with?���

���What? It���s the truth. Her name was Mrs. Heath. She was British.��� Which was total rubbish. He���d never spoken more than five words at once to either of his mother���s friends and the thought of having sex with them wasn���t a pleasant one.

Akila fixed him with a level stare long enough that he began to shift in his seat. Finally she shrugged and said, ���Okay. It doesn���t matter to me either way.���

A few minutes later Kelly announced that it was time to share what they had learned about each other. Nate volunteered to go first. The story about Akila���s mother thumping her father with capoeira earned a few laughs. Nate had to admit it was a great story, better than his. Maybe too good. When he was finished and it was Akila���s turn to talk he watched her closely, looking for signs that that her whole simple Army girl routine was just an act, but he couldn���t see any. She certainly seemed sincere. He found himself thinking that if she was acting she was darn good at it, because he couldn���t tell. She seemed to be just what she claimed.

There was some hooting when she told them his story about losing his virginity to an older woman, but they all seemed to buy it, except maybe Jenna, who gave him a calculating look. Caleb actually got up and fist-bumped him. He didn���t seem all that drunk, considering how much Nate had seen him drink.

Next to go were Caleb and the blonde.

���I���m Tamara and I���m here to tell you about Caleb. Caleb is from Australia,��� the blonde said, ���except he keeps calling it Oz.��� She squinted at her notes. ���Some place called Cairns, near the rain forest, where he says they have salt water crocodiles that will swim miles up fresh water rivers and eat you when you���re sleeping by the river.��� She put her hand to her heart and gave Caleb a look as if he���d said he could walk on water. ���He was raised in the bush by his dad, who owned a pub ��� that���s what they call a bar there ��� and on the shelf behind the bar instead of the good liquor they had jars with poisonous spiders and snakes and stuff in them, all pickled in alcohol. His dad would give a free drink to anyone who could bring in something unusual that he didn���t already have. Caleb���s life���s goal is to get drunk on every continent.���

Caleb howled when she said it and held his beer up. ���Nothing like getting pissed!��� he said. ���That���s getting drunk for you Yanks who���ve never been anywhere.���

���His big secret is������ She paused, letting the suspense build. She was wearing a lot of makeup. The top she was wearing was very tight and revealed a generous amount of cleavage. It looked to Nate like she���d sprinkled glitter between her breasts. There was a tattoo of a snake���s head just visible between her breasts. ���He���s never had sex with an American girl.���

There was a fair amount of groaning at this and Tamara reddened slightly when Caleb put his hand on her knee. ���My turn,��� he said.

���This lovely sheila next to me is named Tamara. She���s from some place called Tucson in a state called Arizona, which I don���t think is a real place.��� He cried out in mock dismay when she smacked him playfully. ���She says there���s nothing in Tucson but a lot of cactus and heat and she doesn���t like talking about it.��� When she hit him again, he said, ���Hey! I���m just repeating what you said. It���s right here on paper.��� He took another drink of his beer, peered at his clipboard, then tossed it on the table. ���Her hobby is dancing around to Justin Bieber songs in her panties and nothing else.��� Laughter greeted his words. ���That���s about it, except for her secret.��� He leaned forward, putting his thick forearms on his knees and lowering his voice. ���She wants to do it with three guys on camera.��� He held up one hand, palm out. ���Fair dinkum.���

���What? You���re a monster! I never said that!��� She slapped him several times, but it was mock outrage; that much was clear to everyone. ���I hate you. Why would you say that?��� She turned to the Latino man, who was sitting on her left. ���Are you just going to let him get away with that? Aren���t you supposed to defend my honor or something?���

He set down his glass. There was a tattoo of barbed wire around his wrist, just visible when his shirt sleeve pulled back as he reached forward. He gave Caleb a cold, hard look. ���Now you���ve made an enemy of the wrong man, pendejo. I will gut you.��� The way he said it sounded utterly real and for just a moment Nate believed he was serious. Then he smiled and added in a thick Spanish accent, ���I challenge you to a duel at dawn. For the lady���s honor. You will, of course, lose.���

Everyone laughed, but there was as much relief as anything in the laughter.

excerpt from��Watching the End of the World

Watching the End of the World – 7

Nate was trying to take a nap when all the wall screens on the jet came on, showing Arnie sitting at a table. ��He gave them a big smile and wiped his glistening forehead with a tissue. ���Hello again!��� he cried heartily. ���I hope you���re finding the jet to your liking. The production company wanted to send you on a commercial flight but I put my foot down.��� He mimed stomping one foot, which only made him look foolish when he hit his knee on the underside of the table, nearly tipping over the glass of water at his elbow. His smile never faltered though. If anything it grew brighter.

���Now, I���m sure you all have lots of questions. No doubt you���re dying to know more about the nuts and bolts of Reality Island, but that���s not why I���ve called.��� There was an audible groan from a couple of the contestants. Arnie shook his finger at them. ���I can see and hear you, you know. You���re all already on camera.��� Nate looked around. Sure enough, there were at least four cameras that he could see. ���Patience, as they say, is a virtue, though I can���t say it���s ever gotten me anywhere.��� He chuckled at his little joke. His smile turned down a few watts. ���I called to say I want you all to spend the next hour or so in a little meet-and-greet. I realize some of you have already started getting acquainted ��� ��� he raised one eyebrow and gave a knowing leer ��� ��� but I want to make sure you all get to know something about each other before we start filming in earnest tomorrow.���

���Is this one of those first-day-of-class things?��� Tony said. ���That everyone hates?���

���Exactly!��� Arnie cried, clapping his pudgy hands together. ���Here���s how it���s going to go: You���re going to partner up, boy-girl, boy-girl. You���re going to get a few minutes to talk to each other. During that time you���re going to learn your partner���s name and a few details about them, like where they���re from, something about their childhood, their favorite hobby. Also, you need to find out one secret. When the time is up, each of you is going to introduce your partner and share what you learned about him or her with everyone else. Don���t worry about whether you���ll be able to remember it all; Kelly and Adam will be coming around with paper and pens for each of you.���

���A secret?��� someone groaned. ���What kind of secret?���

���Whatever you choose,��� Arnie replied, winking. ���It���s up to you. I will tell you this though: your viewers will be watching and they will be voting. You don���t want to let them down, do you? Pair up now so we can get started.���

Nate was hoping to pair up with the Indian woman but Tony got to her before he did. Jenna paired up with the quiet guy. Caleb chose the blonde as his partner and they celebrated their partnership by clinking beers together. The Latino man paired up with the African American woman. That left Nate with the woman in the aviator sunglasses and the no-nonsense manner.

They were all settling into their places, conversations just starting, when Arnie suddenly interrupted. Someone off-camera had handed him a sheet of paper and his smile faded as he read it. ���Something���s come up so I���m going to have to let you do this on your own. Don���t worry. Kelly will keep time and let you know when to share what you���ve learned.��� The screens went dark.

���Strange guy,��� Nate remarked to his partner.

���TV is full of strange people,��� she replied. ���Maybe it���s a way to keep them all in one place and occupied so we don���t have to pay to institutionalize them.���

���Personal experience?��� Nate asked her.

She shook her head. ���Not me. I���m just a simple soldier. Ex-soldier,��� she amended. She leaned over and extended her hand. ���Akila Mourad.���

���Nate Devereaux.��� She had a strong grip. The muscles stood out on her arms when they shook and Nate had a feeling this woman could hurt him if she chose to. It wasn���t a pleasant feeling. Then they sat back in their chairs and Nate took up the clipboard Kelly had handed him. ���So you were in the military? Which branch?���

���The army. Corporal Mourad. Two tours in Afghanistan, one in Iraq.���

Now Nate was sure she could hurt him if she chose. He decided he wanted this woman on his side, whatever kind of competition this turned out to be. He had a feeling she could carry him to the finish line. She seemed supremely capable.

���So, Mourad. That���s an unusual last name. Where did it come from?���

���It���s Egyptian. So���s Akila. It means ���intelligent.��� You can use that as my secret.���

���Not very juicy. I think Arnie was hoping for juicy.���

���Well, too bad for Arnie.���

���Here���s to that,��� Nate said, leaning forward and putting out his fist for a bump. At first she just stared at his fist, hanging there, and he found himself feeling very silly, like a twelve-year-old trying to impress the big kids and failing miserably, but then she leaned forward and gave him a gentle bump. Nate swallowed. ���Were you born in Egypt?���

She shook her head. ���I���ve never been there. The closest I made it was Iraq. I was born in Eugene, Oregon. My father was a visiting professor there when he met my mother.���

���Your mother was a student?���

���This feels like another secret. I only have to give one.���

Nate held up the clipboard. ���Just following orders, ma���am.���

She responded with the faintest smile. He found he liked her smile. ���She was Brazilian.��� Nate caught the past tense and wondered what had happened to her mother. ���She was attending the University of Oregon on a dance scholarship and met my father in a political science class.��� She shook her head. ���I can���t even imagine what those two ever saw in each other. Complete opposites. My father is rigid, dictatorial, real old-school. My mother was a free spirit, full of fire and life. The affair didn���t last long, but long enough to produce me. When my father found out my mother was pregnant with me he insisted that they marry. She insisted they not, though it went against her Catholic beliefs. Then he pulled some typical male macho bullshit on her and she pulled a little capoeira on him.���

���What���s capoeira?���

���A Brazilian martial art. It���s a mix of dance, acrobatics and music. Very Brazilian. Very effective.���

���Yet you ended up with his last name?���

Akila shrugged. ���As I said, she was very traditional Catholic.���

���Favorite hobby?���

���I don���t have any hobbies.���

���Everyone has a hobby.���

���Killing people.���

Nate looked up from his clipboard, sure she must be joking. She was staring at him expressionlessly. ���Okay. Killing people it is.���

Hunger’s Reach – Book IV

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Wulf Rome stood on the battlefield, the enemy dead littering the ground around him, the remains of the enemy army in flight, and knew he had just lost the war. He was staring south ��� nearly everyone was ��� and though there was nothing to see, no plume of smoke or anything, still he knew they had lost.

Melekath was free.

He could feel it in his chest, as if he had just breathed in something poisonous. A feeling of dread, a terrible foreboding. Melekath was free. The thing he had feared, but somehow never quite believed would happen, had happened. He wanted to throw down his weapon and walk away from the battlefield. Just give up. An enraged god was loose and he was coming for them. For all of them. What could he or any of them possibly hope to do against that?

Gritting his teeth, Rome fought to master himself, to wipe the doom from his face, knowing how it would infect his army if he let them see it. All around him men were turning toward him, the same sick realization in all their eyes. They felt it just as he did. Exhilaration and courage were evaporating. They looked to their leader to change that, to show them they were wrong.

To give them hope.

Hope he didn���t have. So he fell back on the first lesson any commander learns: keep the soldiers busy. Rome pushed sweat and hair out of his eyes and faced his men.

���All right, you know what to do,��� he yelled at them. Standing nearby was Felint; the grizzled, one-eyed veteran had his mouth open, the sword in his hand barely hanging from his nerveless fingers. ���Felint! Get some men together and start carrying the wounded up to the stitchers. Now!��� He didn���t know if it would work. His words sounded faint and small in his own ears. But then Felint shook himself like a man coming out of a nightmare. He stared at Rome for a moment, and in his eyes Rome saw that the wily old veteran knew what he was doing and why. Then he nodded slightly, saluted, and started barking orders.

Just then Nicandro, Rome���s aide, came hurrying up. He was a short, bald, sinewy man, dark skinned and muscular. The smile he seemed to always wear was gone and desperation lurked in his eyes. ���Orders, sir?��� he asked.

���Put a team together and start gathering our dead.��� Rome looked around. Looming over the battlefield on the north was the shattered bulk of the Landsend Plateau. Uphill from him, crossing the width of the pass between the northern reaches of the Firkath Mountains and the Plateau, was the ancient stone wall his army had fought to defend, now with two gaping holes in it from where the Guardian Tharn tore through it. On the south side of the pass stood the ruins of a stone tower, all that remained of the fortress that was once Guardians Watch. The battlefield on this side of the pass was steep. Chunks of rock poked through the thin soil everywhere. The other side of the pass was no better, even if the slope was gentler.

Rome knew they couldn���t just leave their dead lying here. The men wouldn���t stand for it and he didn���t blame them. No soldier wanted his body left lying for the carrion eaters that were already starting to circle. Taking the dead with them was out of the question, which meant they needed to be buried. And quickly. Rome wanted out of this place. He wanted to get back to Qarath as fast as possible. He knew in his gut Melekath would go there first, and he wasn���t leaving his home undefended. But digging a mass grave in this soil would take days and he meant to leave at first light tomorrow. He made a decision and lowered his gaze to Nicandro.

���Lay them out in that ruined tower. When they���re all in there, knock it down. That will be their monument.���

Nicandro saluted and hurried away, calling to men as he went. Rome���s next thought was to find Quyloc. Quyloc would know something. He always did. Quyloc was further down the slope, near where the Guardian Kasai had stood to command the enemy army. Thank the gods for Quyloc and that strange spear of his. Again Rome saw his old friend, in the thick of battle, stabbing the Guardian in the chest with the spear. He heard the unearthly howl as Kasai staggered back, badly injured. The memory brought him a small measure of hope. They had defeated two of Melekath���s most powerful followers. Maybe all was not lost.

Quyloc was making his way up the slope. The tall, spare man was bent over, using the spear like a cane, leaning on it as if he had nothing else. His stained green cloak flapped around his legs in a sudden wind. His scalp and face, usually neatly shaven, were stubbled with pale blond hair; the forced march here had taken a lot out of all of them and left no time or energy for many daily habits. Rome hurried down to help him. Quyloc looked up as Rome approached and what Rome saw in his friend���s eyes caused his newfound hope to sputter out. Quyloc���s expression was dead and flat. He looked like an old man.

���It���s really broken, isn���t it?��� Rome asked.

Quyloc didn���t bother to answer, but simply continued making his way uphill.

���What does this mean?��� Rome asked, suddenly aware of how exhausted he was. The bloody battle axe in his hand was unbearably heavy. He opened his fingers and let it fall. The black axe was ice on his back. After using it to defeat Tharn he���d sheathed it and gone to his battle axe for the rest of the fighting. His curly black hair and beard were sticky with drying blood, some of it his. A wound in his leg was oozing blood.

Quyloc stopped and looked at him. His sharp, deep set eyes darkened with sudden anger. ���I don���t know what it means,��� he said harshly. ���Death. The end. Hopelessness. Take your pick.���

���But you took out Kasai with your spear. I turned back Tharn with the axe.��� Rome needed more from Quyloc. He felt like he was standing on a cliff in the darkness, a storm trying to push him over.

���I didn���t kill Kasai. I just wounded it. Even if I had������ Quyloc���s words died off with a snarl and he seemed to stab at the ground with the butt of the spear. ���We were supposed to be there when it happened. We were supposed to hit Melekath when he emerged from the prison.���

Quyloc stepped over a body and headed uphill, and Rome followed. They reached the shattered stone wall just as Nalene climbed down off it. The thickset woman���s white robe was covered in dirt and splashed with blood. What little hair had grown back on her bald head seemed to have turned completely gray. Her sulbit lay limply across her shoulders. It looked more yellow than usual. The eyes in its blunt face were closed.

���We have to get back to Qarath,��� she said. Her heavy jaw was set and her back was as straight as ever, but Rome could see the effort she was making to keep a hold of herself.

���Tell me about it,��� he said. He circled around her, heading for one of the holes Tharn had made.

���Melekath is coming,��� she called after him.

Rome didn���t bother to answer. What difference did it make? What difference did any of it make? T���sim emerged from the hole in the wall as he drew near. In the midst of the carnage, with blood everywhere and the cries of the wounded and dying filling the air, T���sim looked as placid as ever. His coat was freshly brushed, the silver buttons gleaming. His hair was neat, his features calm. He might have been back at the palace, rather than in the middle of a battlefield. He stopped and waited for Rome, his hands folded before him.

Before Rome could ask him, T���sim said, ���I do not know where Lowellin is, Macht. He has disappeared, beyond even where I can see him. I think he did not expect this to happen.��� His brow furrowed slightly. ���It is most interesting. I admit to being surprised too.���

���Sure,��� Rome snorted. ���Very interesting. We could die of all this interest.��� Looking around to see who was nearby to overhear, he motioned T���sim off to the side to talk. Quyloc followed.

���What can you tell me about this?���

T���sim held his hands out, palms up. His hands were small and somewhat pink. ���Sententu finally broke.���

���And Sententu is?���

���A Shaper. Of the First Ring. He made of himself the door to the prison, after Xochitl allowed the flaw.��� He frowned. ���I would like to see her one day, and ask her if it was deliberate. She was ever soft-hearted.���

���I don���t care about Xochitl right now,��� Rome growled. ���Tell me something I can use. How did Melekath break the door?���

T���sim gazed off to the south for long moments before replying. As he did a breeze rose up, gusting around him. He seemed to be listening to it. Rome realized that this wind only blew right around them. Nearby trees were unmoving. Then he gazed at Rome once again. ���I do not know exactly. He needed help from this side, as he did when you pulled the axe free.��� When he mentioned the axe it almost seemed like it buzzed for a second. Rome twitched.

���So you think one of the Guardians helped him? Maybe Gulagh. We didn���t see him here.���

���Not a Guardian,��� T���sim replied. ���A human. A woman.��� He pointed at the Tender camp. ���One of them.���

���One of the Tenders helped Melekath?��� Quyloc interjected.

T���sim shrugged. ���For all your strengths, you are easily misled. You have a way of only hearing what you want to hear, and ignoring the rest.���

���You���re saying one woman somehow wielded the power necessary to break a Shaper of the First Ring?��� Quyloc asked. ���That���s ridiculous. Where would she even get that much power?���

���She used a trunk line,��� T���sim said.

Quyloc was visibly staggered. Even a small trunk line carried Song enough for all the residents of a small city. ���It���s not possible,��� he gasped. ���Not even a Tender of old������

���She killed a village,��� T���sim said matter-of-factly. ���She drained them. Their Songs gave her the strength, and Melekath gave her the reason.��� He shook his head. His soft face showed genuine surprise. ���She thought she was rescuing her god. She was so sure she was right that she ignored all the signs. She wanted to be right.��� He looked back at the Tender camp. ���There are many who would like to know what became of Xochitl. Alone of the Eight, she has disappeared completely. Even the aranti have had no sign of her. She is the only one Melekath has not found. He has found all the others, you know.���

Rome stared at the little man, surprised. Never had he said so much before. He didn���t seem to be talking to them. It was more as if he was musing aloud.

���What do we do now?��� Rome asked.

T���sim raised one eyebrow, as if he had never considered the question before, and Rome was struck by the realization that this being before him was vastly different from them. He was an observer. Why he had helped them at all, Rome didn���t know. But it was not because he cared what happened to them.

���I don���t think it matters,��� T���sim said at last. ���Melekath���s Children have changed. More than even he realizes.��� He paused, a realization striking him. ���In this way he is not so different from your kind. He sees what he wants to see, and denies the truth before his eyes. His Children are not what they once were. They will not heal as he hopes. Their hunger for Song is very great. That is what you feel here: the flows are beginning to bend toward them. Nothing will sate this hunger.��� He stopped, seeming to realize that they were staring at him, horrified.

���You can run, I suppose. It will keep you alive for a time.���

���There has to be some way we can kill these things,��� Rome said, thinking of his axe.

���Kill them?��� T���sim gave Rome a quizzical look. ���Oh, you do not know about the Gift, the nature of it. The reason for the siege of Durag���otal. The Gift is immortality.

���The Children cannot die.���

excerpt from��Hunger’s Reach,��book 4 in The Devastation Wars series.

The��books in the series:

Wreckers Gate

Landsend Plateau

Guardian’s Watch

Hunger’s Reach

Book 5 (coming in late 2015)

Watching the End of the World – 6

Jenna spoke up. ���I tried to get Arnie to tell me more about the show but he acted very mysterious about it. All he would say was that it wasn���t quite like any reality show ever done, and the director wanted to keep the details secret until we got there. Something about not spoiling the dramatic intensity of the show.���

���Dramatic intensity,��� Nate said with a snort. ���Give me a break.���

Jenna turned her gaze on him. ���You don���t think reality TV has dramatic intensity?���

���No. I don���t. It���s all fake. It���s manufactured drama.���

���How is that different from a movie? Isn���t that also manufactured drama?���

���Yes, but������ Others were listening in now and Nate began to wish he���d kept his mouth shut. He had a feeling he���d stepped into a trap and it would only get tighter the more he wriggled. ���A movie���s different. It���s not trying to pass itself off as real.���

���And reality shows do?���

���Exactly. They try to make us believe that the drama, the interactions between characters, is all real.���

���But it���s not.���

���No. The actors on those shows know they���re on camera the entire time. I���m not saying they don���t actually get into real fights, but everything they do is based around the knowledge that the camera is always watching. No matter how convincing they might be, it���s still all fake.���

���You don���t think that after enough time that the people on those shows start to forget the cameras are there? That they become used to their presence to the point where their true feelings come out?���

Nate hesitated. He hadn���t thought about that. ���I suppose it���s possible. I���ll still take a well-written and well-acted play or movie any day over reality TV.���

���Why?��� She had piercing green eyes that seemed to pin Nate into place.

Nate looked to Tony for help. Tony held up his hands as if to say, you got yourself into this. ���Great drama, like great literature, gives us a window into the human condition,��� Nate said. Great. Now he sounded like his high school English teacher.

���So, watching a quality movie gives us a chance to see how people react to their lives and the other people around them?���

���Yeah. Pretty much.��� The edge of the cliff felt closer.

���Doesn���t reality TV do the same thing? Isn���t it popular for exactly the same reason, because it gives the audience a chance to see how real people interact?���

���But, it���s not the same,��� Nate spluttered. People were grinning. He definitely should have just kept his mouth shut.

���No, it���s not. One is only people pretending to react to things. The other is people actually reacting to things.��� She gave him a triumphant smile.

���Okay,��� Nate said weakly. ���I surrender.��� Jenna opened her bag and took out a magazine and started flipping through it.

Watching the End of the World excerpt.

Author’s note: Many people��believe that��WTEOTW is quite possibly the greatest gift you could give a loved one. Ever. Who are these people? I don’t know. But I’m quite sure they exist. :)

Watching the End of the World – 5

A shuttle carried them out to a gleaming, expensive-looking jet. There were exclamations and a couple of high fives were exchanged. Nate had to admit that he was excited about the idea of riding on a private jet. He���d never even been this close to one before.

A male flight attendant was standing at the top of the stairs as they got off the shuttle and he smiled and waved to them. Arnie stopped at the bottom of the stairs.

���Sadly, this is as far as poor Arnie gets to go. I do envy you all. I wish I was flying away to an exotic locale.���

For the most part they ignored him, hurrying past him, eager to see the inside of the jet. They were not disappointed. The interior was all white. Plush, reclining leather seats, glass tables, couches, flat screens on the walls and deep carpeting.

���Swank!��� the blonde guy said when he saw it. ���A fella could get used to this.��� He had an Australian accent. He plopped down in one of the seats and spun around. ���What more do you want?��� The blonde woman took the seat closest to him, just getting there ahead of the other woman he���d been drinking with at the bar. The female flight attendant came walking by and he grabbed her hand, pulling her close. He peered at her name tag. ���Kelly. I���m Caleb. A pleasure to meet you, lass. How���s a man get a drink around here?���

She pulled her hand away and gave him a professional smile. ���He asks. We have a fully stocked bar. Once we���re in the air I���ll be happy to bring you whatever you like.���

���Lovely,��� Caleb said. ���But that sounds far away. How about a little something right now?���

���Sorry, Caleb. Can���t have you spilling everywhere during takeoff.���

���I���ll finish it fast, I promise.���

She patted his shoulder. ���I���m sure you would.���

Nate took a seat in the back, near the galley, and buckled himself in. He got his phone out, wanting to find out more about the attempted terrorist attack before they took off. Before he could get very far the pilot���s voice came over the intercom.

���This is your pilot, Captain Carl Rogers. Welcome aboard. We are cleared to take off just as soon as everyone gets buckled in. Please turn off all electronic devices at this time.��� Reluctantly, Nate turned his phone off. Each seat had its own tablet computer. Probably he could get on the Internet once they were in the air. He sat back and closed his eyes. It was a very comfortable seat. Not at all like being crammed into coach.

He was sitting there with his eyes closed, when he heard the two flight attendants talking in low voices in the galley.

���Are they grounding flights?���

���That���s what I heard. LAX will be shut within an hour. That���s why they���re rushing us like this. They want to get this plane in the air before it happens.���

���How bad is it?���

���I don���t know. They said it���s contained at O���Hare and only a half dozen people are sick, but that���s one of the busiest airports in the world. It could have spread anywhere already.���

Nate sat up, alarmed. ���What���s that?��� he asked loudly.

Kelly broke off and turned around. ���Can I help you, sir?���

���I want to know more about the terrorist attack in Chicago,��� Nate said. ���What happened? How bad is it?���

���It���s all under control,��� she said. ���There���s nothing to worry about.���

���There���s been a terrorist attack?��� Jenna said. She was in a seat across the aisle from Nate. Others broke off from what they were doing to listen.

���It was an attempted attack.���

���You said half a dozen people are sick,��� Nate said.

���The authorities caught the man responsible. It���s been contained.���

Nate was watching the male flight attendant while Kelly spoke. From the look on his face it was worse than Kelly was letting on. He felt a twinge of fear.

���Terrorist attack?��� the blonde woman said, just hearing about it. ���Where? Is it a bomb?���

���No,��� Kelly said, walking through the cabin. ���There was no bomb, just one man with some anthrax or something. It���s nothing to worry about.���

Book 5 sneak peak

Rome and Quyloc hit the glistening web of the Veil and it was like plunging into an icy lake. A sudden, freezing, heart-stopping shock and then they were through, feeling as if they���d been torn in half. The pain was intense, disorienting.

Quyloc fought to get to his feet but one leg was still dead from being touched by one of the Children and he could not make it work. Piercing his chest was what looked like a black snake, as big around as his thumb, covered in slightly iridescent scales, with numerous barbs protruding from it; multiple smaller snakes emerged from his torso, wrapping around him, pinning his arms to his sides. He still had hold of the spear, but it was pinned to him as well and he could do nothing with it.

Retaining its grip on the snake the pierced Quyloc in one hand, the hunter held its other hand palm out to Rome, who had made it most of the way to his feet. A clicking sound came from it and another barbed snake shot from its palm, piercing Rome���s chest and knocking him backwards so that he almost fell. Rome grabbed at the snake with his one good hand ��� his right arm hung limp and dead at his side ��� and tried to pull it free. He grunted with pain but made no headway. A second later a half dozen smaller snakes burst out of his torso and snapped around and around him, pinning his arms to his sides as well. The hunter tugged and Rome fell to the ground.

From his knees Quyloc looked up, into the harsh, bladed face of the hunter. It stared down at him. There was no way to read emotion on that angular, alien face but he sensed triumph radiating from it and in the cold, red eyes was the knowledge that this time he would not escape. Quyloc went cold inside.

Gathering both snakes in one hand, the hunter crouched and slapped the ground with its palm twice, the impact hard enough that Quyloc nearly lost his balance and toppled over. The hunter stood. Quyloc felt a rumbling from the ground and then something broke from the ground beside the hunter.

A large, hooked beak rose up slowly, dirt cascading from it. Huge, opaque eyes blinked open, fixing on the hunter. It pulled the rest of its body free. It was broad and squat, its head tapering smoothly to a thick neck then down to a sinewy body rippling with muscle. Its four legs ended in long, hooked claws, broad as spades and as long as a man���s forearm.

What’s with all these excerpts?

Well, I’m glad you asked. (Okay, so you didn’t ask. Let’s not quibble. We both know you��wanted to ask.) These excerpts are just my way of sharing pieces of my new book, Watching the End of the World, which, of course, I’m sure you’ll love. (No, I’m not biased. Numerous studies that I just made up confirm this as a fact.) It’s reality TV meets the apocalypse. What could be better?

Watching the End of the World – 4

The guy who came in next was slightly built and a little bit shorter than Nate, who was only five-ten on a good day. He had dark hair cut short and bristly and just a touch of a mustache on his lip. He, too, paused just inside the door to look around. But where the Indian woman with the British accent seemed nervous and unsure, he seemed calm and confident. He saw Nate looking at him and nodded, then went and sat down. He seemed very measured and deliberate in his actions.

Behind him came the last member of the cast, Asian, dark haired, a big smile on his face. He came over and sat down by Nate, then stuck out his hand.

���Hi. I���m Tony Chang. I have the most common last name in the world. Who are you?���

Nate shook his hand. ���Nate Devereaux.���

Tony looked around and gave a low whistle. ���I must be in the wrong place. It looks like a gathering of the world���s most beautiful people. I definitely do not fit in here.���

���Welcome to reality TV,��� Nate said. ���The perfect mix of cosmetic surgery and hitting the genetic lottery.��� Tony was right, though. Everyone in the room was on the upper end of the personal beauty scale, probably the most vital trait for making it on a reality show. The American public wanted their reality TV, but they didn���t want it too real.

���Seriously,��� Tony said, lowering his voice. ���These women are beautiful. Do you think any of them will let me talk to them? Maybe carry their luggage or something?���

Nate chuckled. He was definitely feeling better about this. ���So, what brings you here?���

���The money,��� Tony deadpanned. ���That million dollars is as good as mine. Also, I can���t afford to take a vacation and they���re flying us to an island for free. How good is that?���

���So you���re not here to make your big break? To be the next reality star?���

���Really?��� Tony said. ���Look at me. I���m skinny and I���m Chinese. Who���s going to want to look at me? I���m just hoping for a payday. Maybe no one will take me seriously and I���ll be the last one standing.���

���Well, you just blew that, telling me your strategy.���

Tony shrugged. ���Maybe you will suffer an unfortunate accident. Maybe a skinny ninja will climb through your window one night while you���re asleep.���

���Aren���t ninjas Japanese?���

���Oh, so now you���re an expert on my heritage.���

Watching the End of the World – 3

The irony of it all was that he hadn���t even wanted to go to the audition. It was his roommate, Trevor, who dragged him along. Trevor was also an aspiring actor and not a bad one either. He at least took the craft seriously, which was more than could be said of a lot of those who dreamed of acting. The day Trevor came home and announced he was trying out for a reality TV show Nate mocked him.

���Reality TV is a joke,��� Nate said dismissively. ���The lowest form of entertainment there is. Marx had it wrong. Truly the opiate of the masses.���

���You won���t get an argument from me on that,��� Trevor said, taking an apple out of the fruit bowl on the counter and starting to cut it into quarters.

���Then why are you trying out for it?���

���The real question, Nate,��� Trevor said, taking a bite, ���is why you aren���t.���

���Maybe because I���m a real actor,��� Nate replied.

Trevor shook his head in disbelief. ���I���m sorry, but how much acting do you get to do at your day job?��� Nate worked in retail at a clothing store.

���All in good time,��� Nate said, feeling a little heat rise in his voice. ���I���ve only been here two years.���

���Yeah. Two years. Then it���s three. Five. How many years pass while you wait for your break? Take a chance, Nate. You never know where it will lead.���

���But it���s reality TV, not acting.���

���It���s not?��� Trevor finished cutting up the apple and started wiping up the mess.

���I���ve watched them. Trust me, it���s not acting.���

���Then make it acting. Look, I know you���re not one of those airheads like you see on the reality shows. But that doesn���t mean you can���t act like one. Look at it as an opportunity to play a role. You never know who might be watching. There���s a million bucks waiting for the winner. Who knows? It could be you.���

And so Nate reluctantly agreed to go with Trevor the next day to the audition. Somehow, one thing led to another and here he was. Sometimes the universe had a perverse sense of humor.

The door to the lounge opened and an attractive brown-haired woman walked in. She was wearing an exercise top and a pair of those black, stretchy, exercise pants ��� Nate thought they were called solows ��� that were so popular these days. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Sunglasses covered most of her face, but what Nate could see he liked. He gave her a smile. Stone faced, she looked right through him and went and sat down across the room. From her bag she took a book and started reading it.

Great. This just got better and better.

A moment later another woman came in. She looked to be Indian, with long, lustrous black hair and friendly eyes. She was wearing a long, green dress and heels. She paused just inside the door as if unsure if she was in the right place.

���If you���re looking for the cast of Reality Island,��� Nate said, ���you���re in the right place.���

���Yes, I am. Thank you.��� She had a very elegant, cultured British accent. Nate sat up a little in his seat. Maybe this thing wouldn���t be a total loss. She sat down two seats away, but she didn���t lounge in the seat. She sat very straight and proper, her legs crossed, her hands folded on her knees.

The woman who came in after her had shoulder length, dark hair and fairly dark skin, as if she was from the Middle East or the Mediterranean area somewhere. She was wearing black jeans, a black top and aviator sunglasses which she took off as she surveyed the room. Her eyes landed on Nate, paused, then moved on. He had the feeling he���d just been measured up and classified as ���not a threat.��� There were pronounced muscles in her arms and she moved like an athlete or a fighter. Nate decided he did not want to get on her bad side.

A waiter came by then and asked Nate if he wanted something to drink. He ordered a club soda. The waiter moved on and the door opened again.