TWO upcoming releases from my guest, Eon de Beaumont!
My guest today is my writing partner and friend Eon de Beaumont. He's just received two contracts for his solo work, a novel and a novella.
Eon, tell us about Wayward Grace.
Wayward Grace is a spin-off based in the universe of our forthcoming novel, Boots for the Gentleman being published by Dreamspinner Press. It follows the exploits of a crew of pirates led by the enigmatic Red Silas Stillwater. The main character is a free-spirited fellow named Keyfer Lockswit. He's a young man who has been on the Grace for some time and has grown up with Silas's daughter, Billie. They find a ship that has just been destroyed by another, more vicious pirate, Cutthroat Caravelli. Silas and Keyfer discover two survivors, a very attractive young man and a young woman. Unfortunately another Anglican Naval ship mistakenly believes the Grace destroyed the vessel and they give chase. Silas decides to sail into a magically enhanced storm and the Wayward Grace and her crew are tossed onto the middle of an island ringed in cliffs. It's up to the young crew to repair the Grace and devise a way to get her off the island. Like Boots, Wayward Grace is an action adventure with prominent steampunk elements.
Care to share an (unedited) excerpt?
Sure! Read on:
Keyfer scrabbled along the rigging. His long, brown hair, faded blond at the tips, was pulled up into a pony tail that flapped in the warm sea wind. Keyfer Lockswit had been serving on The Wayward Grace for close to five years now under the command of Captain Silas Stillwater. On paper they were a merchant trading vessel and civilian transport but off paper, and presented with specific opportunities, the crew might be better described as pirates. Their numbers continued to dwindle worldwide but there were those who would never give up that freedom. Keyfer had been thirteen and living on the streets of Allied Libertannia when he first saw the Grace in the harbor of New Halcyon. He liked to say that something in his brain had clicked and he knew instinctively that a life at sea was the life for him, but truly it was something in his soul finally realizing his place in the world.
"Hard to port!" the captain called from below, and the crew echoed his cry as they scrambled to obey. Keyfer slipped toward the deck. The lithe muscles he had built from rigorous and constant work aboard the ship flexed beneath his golden skin under the noonday sun. The keys that dangled on a string around his necked tapped his chest as he climbed. "Keyfer report!" Stillwater called as the young man dropped to the deck in his bare feet, as he always removed his boots to climb. He cocked his thumb over his shoulder.
"Already smoke, cap'm," he answered as he scooped up his cuffed boots with their metal toe-guards and makeshift armor across the heels. "I could just make out two distinct masts over the edge of the island." He paused as he stood. His boots stopped just below the knee where he tucked in the loose, purple pants with the ivy embroidered on the legs. The light pants made for ease of motion. "And the red flag," he finished as he checked his belts and weaponry, convinced they were in for a fight.
"Piss," the captain spat. "Nothin' for it. Good work, boy." Stillwater laid a hand on Keyfer's shoulder. "Get those fancy gun-blades ready. It's bound to be Caravelli." Keyfer swiped a hand across his sweaty forehead and heaved a sigh while Captain Stillwater called down to the engine room to stoke the fire for added speed. If Cutthroat Caravelli the Baby Killer was attacking a ship around the bend it was bound to be a bloodbath. Keyfer feared they may already be too late. Pirates had a bloodthirsty reputation, but despite earning the moniker Red Silas, Captain Stillwater didn't kill without reason. He relied on his silver tongue to get him out of most situations and he never started a fight, though he didn't shy away from finishing one.
The ship lurched forward as the steam engine pushed the aft rotors, and Keyfer braced himself along with the rest of the crew. Keyfer noticed Yama, the giant Japponese man, standing in the bow of the ship with his massive arms crossed over his equally massive chest. Keyfer picked his way across the deck, marveling as he always did at the large man's intricate dragon tattoo. From its tail on his trunk-like neck, the colorful beast snaked its way all around Yama's broad shoulders and back. The dragon's head resided just above the waistband of the large man's silk hakama and its wild eyes mystified Keyfer. Yama always wore strange, chunky wooden sandals and Keyfer had never seen him without his enormous katana sword. He stood next to the man-mountain and looked out over the bow. Yama towered over Keyfer.
"Cap'm reckons it's Caravelli," the young man said and broke the silence. Yama grunted noncommittally. The big man seldom spoke. Even after five years Keyfer was unsure if Yama didn't speak Anglish or just chose not to. The two men watched as The Wayward Grace crested the tip of the island and The Filthy Harlot came into full view. Keyfer looked at Yama, who said nothing, though the smaller man saw a worried flex of muscle in the larger man's jaw.
Salton, the first-mate shouted, "All hands on deck!" repeatedly, despite the fact that everyone who wasn't manning the boiler was already on deck, watching with silent anticipation for a fight or a spectacle.
"Bloody hell. What's this, then?" Keyfer turned to see the only passenger on The Grace.
"Lizard, isn't it?" Keyfer asked the young, blond boy. Lizard nodded and his top hat and goggles bobbed. "We may be in for it. That bloke who captains that ship is a real piece of work. You might want to make yourself scarce. You didn't sign on for this, mate."
"Bollocks t'that," Lizard told the young sailor as he drew a dagger and a clockwork pistol from within his vest. "I'm no ponce. If there's fightin' to be done, I won't be hiding in a cabin." Keyfer slapped the other boy on the back.
"Well said, mate," the captain said from behind them. "And there may be fightin' enough t'go around." The entire crew watched with baited breath as they approached the small but extremely fast ship with its deceptively benign white sails. The second ship, or more appropriately, what was left of the second ship, finally came into view. It was a smoldering wreck thanks to the specialized weapons of The Filthy Harlot. Caravelli, displeased with the speed, weight and accuracy of traditional cannons had outfitted his ship with enormous crossbows. He took it one step further by forcing the famous weapon smith Zilderwendt to design exploding bolts before he castrated the man and suffocated him with his own equipment. The weapons were precise and devastating, and the crew of The Grace had witnessed the results of their handiwork on more than one occasion. As they watched the Harlot pull up anchor, a few men returned from the ruined ship. Her crew restored, the foul vessel pulled hard to starboard and sailed toward open ocean. Keyfer couldn't believe that The Grace had escaped noticed. The Harlot passed close enough for him to make out the masthead, carved backwards to look like a whore with her legs spread, before it turned away.
"That's odd," Stillwater observed. Keyfer agreed, noting a bad feeling in his gut. Something about this situation wasn't right. "S'pose we ought to see if anything survived." Keyf knew the captain meant people and treasure alike as The Grace finished her approach.
Tell us a little bit about The Last Blade.
The Last Blade is my first solo novel! It's a sequel to the short story, Amorela Veritath which appeared in the anthology, Lemon Kisses published by Phaze Books. The story follows Ren Mallorian, the Hero of Vrelenden and his traveling companion, The Prince of Toads as they partake of the amenities afforded famous heroes in the imperial city. Having saved the last unicorn, Ren is catapulted into the spotlight, while trying desperately to keep his mind off the fact that his true love, Celestrian, has returned to his people to fulfill his responsibilities as their prince. He's relieved when King Varic summons him to the palace. Ren is shocked to find a zombie in the king's auditorium. After some hasty apologies and awkward introductions, it is explained to Ren that the zombies have formed their own kingdom and their emperor is amassing an army of the undead. The king wants Ren to assemble a party and stop the impending invasion. Ren and the Prince are tasked to gather a mage and a warrior to round out their party. Nothing ends up being simple and they find themselves on a strange meandering journey through the kingdom until they find the situation in the Zombie Kingdom is not as it appears on the surface. Ren is reunited with some old friends and enemies along the way as well. As with Amorela, The Last Blade has a healthy dose of parody and humor, woven in with the action, adventure and fantasy elements.
Excerpt? Please note, this is unedited.
Ren ducked just in time to avoid a line of arrows fired from tiny channels in the wall. They soared just above his messy, ebony locks, clattering against the opposite wall and then to the floor of the tunnel.
"That was close." The Prince of Toads stated the obvious. "If you want, I can throw a magical barrier up around you." Ren sniffed at the offer as he continued cautiously through the underground cavern. He wore a fitted, sleeveless tunic of dark green leather over a vest of silvril mail. The delicate Elven metal offered great protection while remaining light for ease of movement. Tight brown pants covered his legs and tucked into his cuffed boots which were dyed the same color as his tunic and had been spelled to make no noise as he crept along on his adventure. Ren gripped the hilts of his short swords with hands protected by lightly armored gloves. Delicate silvril plates covered the backs of the hands and knuckles.
"The last time you cast that spell I almost suffocated." An enchanted suit of armor moved to block the pair's advancement and Ren swiftly dispatched it with Yfriir, his Elven-smithed weapon that had the added ability to set fire to its victims. The shortsword was one of a pair crafted by the famed Elven whitesmith, Twelftheart. The other, Friizen, which could instantly freeze opponents, was safely sheathed on his belt. He searched the pile of metal as he passed, retrieving his weapon and stowing the few trinkets that he found in his pack. The Prince, dressed in a purple leather tunic with silver embellishments that matched his crown and the cape fastened at his throat, hopped along behind the Hero.
"Point. But I have been practicing." The Toad pointed to a chamber off the main hall. Ren poked his head inside. He saw a corpse, little more than a skeleton in rags except for a pair of simple, enchanted boots. "Poor bugger," the Prince said as Ren removed the shoes and added them to their spoils. The Prince's observation was more insightful than he realized, for the corpse was none other than Epherim Bugger, who entered this dungeon to make some fast coin—
unsuccessfully. They left the corpse of Mr. Bugger and continued down the main hall. Ren recognized and disarmed a fire trap. A large spider dropped from the ceiling and the Prince crushed it with a repulsion spell before its fangs could harm Ren, who carefully removed the beast's poison glands and placed them in a corked jar. "Are you going to keep everything you find down here?"
"You never know when this stuff is going to come in handy," Ren answered, still picking his way forward. "What we can't use we can always sell."
"Ren," the Prince began in exasperation, "we've been doing these dungeon crawls for almost six months. We have quite an ample store of gold without taking into account the rewards you received from the King and his Lords for slaying that monster, Grimthorn, despite your liberal spending habits. You've been showered with gifts. You've even been given a manor house in the capital city. Isn't it time we moved on to bigger things?" Ren sighed at the Prince's speech, having heard it more than once before.
"We're not just doing this for the treasure," Ren returned as he collected the contents of a wooden crate that consisted of various roots and a few pieces of silver. "Dungeoning offers wonderful opportunities to hone our skills in battle and otherwise."
"Your skills reunited the Lost Unicorn with his people and saved the captive Unicorns that were being held by Grimthorn."
"You know that was mostly luck," Ren pointed out...
Anything else you'd like to share?
I'm sure you've mentioned it here before but Boots for the Gentleman will be out soon as well and I hope people will check that out as well. Thanks for having me, Gus. You're the best.
Thanks for stopping by and sharing your wonderful books with us!
Eon, tell us about Wayward Grace.
Wayward Grace is a spin-off based in the universe of our forthcoming novel, Boots for the Gentleman being published by Dreamspinner Press. It follows the exploits of a crew of pirates led by the enigmatic Red Silas Stillwater. The main character is a free-spirited fellow named Keyfer Lockswit. He's a young man who has been on the Grace for some time and has grown up with Silas's daughter, Billie. They find a ship that has just been destroyed by another, more vicious pirate, Cutthroat Caravelli. Silas and Keyfer discover two survivors, a very attractive young man and a young woman. Unfortunately another Anglican Naval ship mistakenly believes the Grace destroyed the vessel and they give chase. Silas decides to sail into a magically enhanced storm and the Wayward Grace and her crew are tossed onto the middle of an island ringed in cliffs. It's up to the young crew to repair the Grace and devise a way to get her off the island. Like Boots, Wayward Grace is an action adventure with prominent steampunk elements.
Care to share an (unedited) excerpt?
Sure! Read on:
Keyfer scrabbled along the rigging. His long, brown hair, faded blond at the tips, was pulled up into a pony tail that flapped in the warm sea wind. Keyfer Lockswit had been serving on The Wayward Grace for close to five years now under the command of Captain Silas Stillwater. On paper they were a merchant trading vessel and civilian transport but off paper, and presented with specific opportunities, the crew might be better described as pirates. Their numbers continued to dwindle worldwide but there were those who would never give up that freedom. Keyfer had been thirteen and living on the streets of Allied Libertannia when he first saw the Grace in the harbor of New Halcyon. He liked to say that something in his brain had clicked and he knew instinctively that a life at sea was the life for him, but truly it was something in his soul finally realizing his place in the world.
"Hard to port!" the captain called from below, and the crew echoed his cry as they scrambled to obey. Keyfer slipped toward the deck. The lithe muscles he had built from rigorous and constant work aboard the ship flexed beneath his golden skin under the noonday sun. The keys that dangled on a string around his necked tapped his chest as he climbed. "Keyfer report!" Stillwater called as the young man dropped to the deck in his bare feet, as he always removed his boots to climb. He cocked his thumb over his shoulder.
"Already smoke, cap'm," he answered as he scooped up his cuffed boots with their metal toe-guards and makeshift armor across the heels. "I could just make out two distinct masts over the edge of the island." He paused as he stood. His boots stopped just below the knee where he tucked in the loose, purple pants with the ivy embroidered on the legs. The light pants made for ease of motion. "And the red flag," he finished as he checked his belts and weaponry, convinced they were in for a fight.
"Piss," the captain spat. "Nothin' for it. Good work, boy." Stillwater laid a hand on Keyfer's shoulder. "Get those fancy gun-blades ready. It's bound to be Caravelli." Keyfer swiped a hand across his sweaty forehead and heaved a sigh while Captain Stillwater called down to the engine room to stoke the fire for added speed. If Cutthroat Caravelli the Baby Killer was attacking a ship around the bend it was bound to be a bloodbath. Keyfer feared they may already be too late. Pirates had a bloodthirsty reputation, but despite earning the moniker Red Silas, Captain Stillwater didn't kill without reason. He relied on his silver tongue to get him out of most situations and he never started a fight, though he didn't shy away from finishing one.
The ship lurched forward as the steam engine pushed the aft rotors, and Keyfer braced himself along with the rest of the crew. Keyfer noticed Yama, the giant Japponese man, standing in the bow of the ship with his massive arms crossed over his equally massive chest. Keyfer picked his way across the deck, marveling as he always did at the large man's intricate dragon tattoo. From its tail on his trunk-like neck, the colorful beast snaked its way all around Yama's broad shoulders and back. The dragon's head resided just above the waistband of the large man's silk hakama and its wild eyes mystified Keyfer. Yama always wore strange, chunky wooden sandals and Keyfer had never seen him without his enormous katana sword. He stood next to the man-mountain and looked out over the bow. Yama towered over Keyfer.
"Cap'm reckons it's Caravelli," the young man said and broke the silence. Yama grunted noncommittally. The big man seldom spoke. Even after five years Keyfer was unsure if Yama didn't speak Anglish or just chose not to. The two men watched as The Wayward Grace crested the tip of the island and The Filthy Harlot came into full view. Keyfer looked at Yama, who said nothing, though the smaller man saw a worried flex of muscle in the larger man's jaw.
Salton, the first-mate shouted, "All hands on deck!" repeatedly, despite the fact that everyone who wasn't manning the boiler was already on deck, watching with silent anticipation for a fight or a spectacle.
"Bloody hell. What's this, then?" Keyfer turned to see the only passenger on The Grace.
"Lizard, isn't it?" Keyfer asked the young, blond boy. Lizard nodded and his top hat and goggles bobbed. "We may be in for it. That bloke who captains that ship is a real piece of work. You might want to make yourself scarce. You didn't sign on for this, mate."
"Bollocks t'that," Lizard told the young sailor as he drew a dagger and a clockwork pistol from within his vest. "I'm no ponce. If there's fightin' to be done, I won't be hiding in a cabin." Keyfer slapped the other boy on the back.
"Well said, mate," the captain said from behind them. "And there may be fightin' enough t'go around." The entire crew watched with baited breath as they approached the small but extremely fast ship with its deceptively benign white sails. The second ship, or more appropriately, what was left of the second ship, finally came into view. It was a smoldering wreck thanks to the specialized weapons of The Filthy Harlot. Caravelli, displeased with the speed, weight and accuracy of traditional cannons had outfitted his ship with enormous crossbows. He took it one step further by forcing the famous weapon smith Zilderwendt to design exploding bolts before he castrated the man and suffocated him with his own equipment. The weapons were precise and devastating, and the crew of The Grace had witnessed the results of their handiwork on more than one occasion. As they watched the Harlot pull up anchor, a few men returned from the ruined ship. Her crew restored, the foul vessel pulled hard to starboard and sailed toward open ocean. Keyfer couldn't believe that The Grace had escaped noticed. The Harlot passed close enough for him to make out the masthead, carved backwards to look like a whore with her legs spread, before it turned away.
"That's odd," Stillwater observed. Keyfer agreed, noting a bad feeling in his gut. Something about this situation wasn't right. "S'pose we ought to see if anything survived." Keyf knew the captain meant people and treasure alike as The Grace finished her approach.
Tell us a little bit about The Last Blade.
The Last Blade is my first solo novel! It's a sequel to the short story, Amorela Veritath which appeared in the anthology, Lemon Kisses published by Phaze Books. The story follows Ren Mallorian, the Hero of Vrelenden and his traveling companion, The Prince of Toads as they partake of the amenities afforded famous heroes in the imperial city. Having saved the last unicorn, Ren is catapulted into the spotlight, while trying desperately to keep his mind off the fact that his true love, Celestrian, has returned to his people to fulfill his responsibilities as their prince. He's relieved when King Varic summons him to the palace. Ren is shocked to find a zombie in the king's auditorium. After some hasty apologies and awkward introductions, it is explained to Ren that the zombies have formed their own kingdom and their emperor is amassing an army of the undead. The king wants Ren to assemble a party and stop the impending invasion. Ren and the Prince are tasked to gather a mage and a warrior to round out their party. Nothing ends up being simple and they find themselves on a strange meandering journey through the kingdom until they find the situation in the Zombie Kingdom is not as it appears on the surface. Ren is reunited with some old friends and enemies along the way as well. As with Amorela, The Last Blade has a healthy dose of parody and humor, woven in with the action, adventure and fantasy elements.
Excerpt? Please note, this is unedited.
Ren ducked just in time to avoid a line of arrows fired from tiny channels in the wall. They soared just above his messy, ebony locks, clattering against the opposite wall and then to the floor of the tunnel.
"That was close." The Prince of Toads stated the obvious. "If you want, I can throw a magical barrier up around you." Ren sniffed at the offer as he continued cautiously through the underground cavern. He wore a fitted, sleeveless tunic of dark green leather over a vest of silvril mail. The delicate Elven metal offered great protection while remaining light for ease of movement. Tight brown pants covered his legs and tucked into his cuffed boots which were dyed the same color as his tunic and had been spelled to make no noise as he crept along on his adventure. Ren gripped the hilts of his short swords with hands protected by lightly armored gloves. Delicate silvril plates covered the backs of the hands and knuckles.
"The last time you cast that spell I almost suffocated." An enchanted suit of armor moved to block the pair's advancement and Ren swiftly dispatched it with Yfriir, his Elven-smithed weapon that had the added ability to set fire to its victims. The shortsword was one of a pair crafted by the famed Elven whitesmith, Twelftheart. The other, Friizen, which could instantly freeze opponents, was safely sheathed on his belt. He searched the pile of metal as he passed, retrieving his weapon and stowing the few trinkets that he found in his pack. The Prince, dressed in a purple leather tunic with silver embellishments that matched his crown and the cape fastened at his throat, hopped along behind the Hero.
"Point. But I have been practicing." The Toad pointed to a chamber off the main hall. Ren poked his head inside. He saw a corpse, little more than a skeleton in rags except for a pair of simple, enchanted boots. "Poor bugger," the Prince said as Ren removed the shoes and added them to their spoils. The Prince's observation was more insightful than he realized, for the corpse was none other than Epherim Bugger, who entered this dungeon to make some fast coin—
unsuccessfully. They left the corpse of Mr. Bugger and continued down the main hall. Ren recognized and disarmed a fire trap. A large spider dropped from the ceiling and the Prince crushed it with a repulsion spell before its fangs could harm Ren, who carefully removed the beast's poison glands and placed them in a corked jar. "Are you going to keep everything you find down here?"
"You never know when this stuff is going to come in handy," Ren answered, still picking his way forward. "What we can't use we can always sell."
"Ren," the Prince began in exasperation, "we've been doing these dungeon crawls for almost six months. We have quite an ample store of gold without taking into account the rewards you received from the King and his Lords for slaying that monster, Grimthorn, despite your liberal spending habits. You've been showered with gifts. You've even been given a manor house in the capital city. Isn't it time we moved on to bigger things?" Ren sighed at the Prince's speech, having heard it more than once before.
"We're not just doing this for the treasure," Ren returned as he collected the contents of a wooden crate that consisted of various roots and a few pieces of silver. "Dungeoning offers wonderful opportunities to hone our skills in battle and otherwise."
"Your skills reunited the Lost Unicorn with his people and saved the captive Unicorns that were being held by Grimthorn."
"You know that was mostly luck," Ren pointed out...
Anything else you'd like to share?
I'm sure you've mentioned it here before but Boots for the Gentleman will be out soon as well and I hope people will check that out as well. Thanks for having me, Gus. You're the best.
Thanks for stopping by and sharing your wonderful books with us!
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