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Fantasy, Reading, Writing

Echo of the High Kings Third Sample

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Here’s the third sample of Echo of the High Kings.  In this section, we see the consequences of Lord Hector’s discussion with his son.  Echo of the High Kings is an epic fantasy that comes out 1 August 2014.  You can find the first sample here and the second one here.

Lord Hector

City of Longhaven, Longhaven Barony, Duchy of Masov

Twenty-Ninth of Idran, Cycle 993 Post Sundering

The sun had just set when Hector dismounted from his horse and passed the reins to one of his men. He had made his preparations at East Reach and ridden the remainder of the afternoon and early evening to arrive at Longhaven in time. Hector glanced up at the well-lit manor house, then back at the dimly lit town. It was just like Estrel to display his wealth while the rest of his Barony didn’t have the money for lamp oil. “You have your orders,” he said. They stared at him for a long moment in silence. He saw Sergeant Steffan open his mouth to speak, and then close it again.

Hector gave them a stern glare. “I will not repeat myself. Go to your assigned posts and prevent anyone from leaving the grounds until I return.”

The fifteen men dispersed, all except Sergeants Grel and Steffan, the two men whose loyalty and competence had most impressed him so far. Hector turned back towards the door of the manor house and took a deep breath. He walked past the pair of guards outside unchallenged. Inside, out of the dark night, the house seemed warm and cheerful. He heard his cousin’s wife before he saw her. She swept into the foyer, a plump, cheerful woman who always seemed happy to see guests. “Hector, so good to see you,” she said. “What brings you here tonight? Hopefully not any more of that dreary business?”

“More work, I’m afraid, Lady Rinata” Hector said. He forced himself to smile, though he knew the expression would look wooden. “Lord Estrel and I will need to discuss it for a few hours, I think.”

She shook her head, “Always so serious. I can tell whatever news has you here so late worries you. Do not take the world’s burdens on your shoulders, Hector, or it will send you to your grave early, a bitter man.”

Hector stared at her for a long moment, “I am the master of the guard, and Baron Estrel’s military captain. It is my duty to worry, and to guard these lands for Lord Estrel, and his and your duties to defend the people of Longhaven as the Baron and Baroness.”

She rolled her eyes, “I agree, and you’ll not hear me say otherwise. If you’ll remember, I have backed every one of your arguments with my husband. But worry and fear will drag you down, weigh down your spirit, and will age you. Do not forget to find time for friendship, love and even a family,” Lady Rinata said.

“Thank you for your concern,” Hector said, and felt a surge of guilt as he forced himself to meet her eyes. She was one of the few that had treated him with respect rather than as the by-blow of the Duke’s younger brother. Not for the first time, Hector wondered what the strong, confident, and kind woman saw in self-absorbed Baron Estrel. Then again, she might just see it as her duty to stand by him, arranged marriage or no, he thought. “I must speak with your husband.” He glanced at Sergeant Steffan, “The Sergeant here is from the town of Western Reach. He’s just returned from visiting family there, I wonder if you’d care to discuss the latest from your home?”

“Why, certainly,” Lady Rinata said. She immediately turned to the Sergeant. Some part of Hector wished that he could trust her, that she might see reason, but he couldn’t risk that she would side with her husband. Hector gave a single nod to Sergeant Steffan as she turned her back. The sergeant nodded back, nervously.

Hector just hoped that Steffan wouldn’t give the whole thing away. Lady Rinata was well known for her perception, she might see through his nervousness and figure out Hector’s true purpose here tonight before he did the deed.

Hector brushed past her, followed by Sergeant Grel. They ascended the stairs, and then walked down the hall to the library. As expected, he saw Captain Grayson, Baron Estrel’s personal armsman outside. “Evening, Robert,” he said in greeting.

“Lord Hector,” the armsman nodded, “Good to see you back. The Baron had not expected your return so soon. I take it you have news about the Armen?”

“He won’t like it,” Hector said.

Grayson gave him a sad nod. Hector knew that of all the people privy to the entire picture, Baron Estrel’s personal armsman understood best the precarious state of their defenses. Under other circumstances, Hector knew he could count on the man to provide more weight to his own arguments.

“Well, there may be some shouting,” Hector said. “I’ll ask that you let him get over his anger without interruption.”

“More like you shout at him to get some sense in his head about this,” Grayson said with a smile. “But I’ll take your meaning. Sergeant Grel and I will wait out here and have a good chat while you talk with the Baron.”

Hector could not force himself to meet his friend’s eyes as he stepped past him into the library. He found his cousin seated at the table, back to the door. For a moment, a cowardly part of Hector wanted to do the deed then, but he had to at least try to get his cousin to see reason, first. That route would prove better in the long run.

“My lord,” Hector said. His cousin waved a hand for him to circle around the other side of the table. Baron Estrel did not look up from his book.

Hector glanced at the pile of books as he passed, and he grimaced. He did not know how such drivel had survived since the Starborn’s arrival. They included social programs for the poor, extensive taxation of the wealthy merchant class to fund programs that turned productive members of society into useless drones. Worst of the ideology, Hector thought of how he gelded the military and his policy of bribery and appeasement of enemies and barbarians.

Hector had no grasp over the history of those books, but he saw the effects on the Barony of Longhaven. He had no desire to see the end of this particular experiment. The Starborn had brought other books, books on agriculture, medicine, chemistry–at least those had some use. Not for the first time, Hector wished that his cousin’s fascination had lain with books of science or even magic, rather than social progress. “My lord, I’ve just returned from meeting with my spymaster. The Armen intend to invade this next summer. I have come to ask that our latest shipment of tribute be retained and used to bolster our forces.”

“What?” Estrel looked up from his books. “Hector, you can’t be serious. I just spoke with the emissary of one of the Semat clans, who assured me that they’ve no intention to resort to military violence as long as we pay them their rightful share of wealth. We have extorted their lands for too long, and their anger is just something that occurs naturally due to the difference in wealth between their lands and ours.”

Hector took a deep breath, “Whatever the cause, cousin, the effect will result in the destruction of the city of Longhaven and the enslavement of our people. Hold back the tribute, and send for troops from Duke Peter, else we will face raids which my men cannot hold back.”

“No, this is unacceptable,” Baron Estrel shook his head. “You always see so much of a threat from these people. I don’t understand your bigotry. You even took one of their women as a mistress!”

“I have seen what they will do, you idiot, and I am trying my best to prevent that,” Hector snapped.

“You can’t talk to me like that,” Baron Estrel angrily rose from his chair.

“Sit down, shut your mouth and listen!” Hector shouted. He saw his cousin’s jaw drop and he dropped back to his seat in shock. He doubted that any man had dared even raise his voice in his presence since his father’s death. “You have bankrupted our Barony and turned one of the most prosperous cities in the Duchy of Masov into paupers. The Duke has requested his taxes and I know that we’ll barely be able to pay our own debts, much less pay our dues to him. Your father’s military program has fallen into disarray, which is why Duke Peter sent me here in the first place: to prevent Armen raids.”

“Which I have prevented. Since we began the tribute program, no Armen have raided our lands!” Baron Estrel said. “And I–”

“Those tributes increase every cycle. And no matter what, we will be unable to pay them next cycle,” Hector said. “Which even the Armen realize, and so they intend to raid us and take what is left by force. They’ll carve your heart out in front of your wife and give your soul to one of their dark spirits. They’ll rape and torture your wife until she wishes they did the same to her.” Hector leaned over the table. “I refuse to allow that, cousin. I will do everything in my power to prevent it… even if it means removing you.”

“But…” His cousin paled, then he shook his head and sat up straight, “You don’t have that authority, only the Duke does and he would not listen to you.” Baron Estrel’s face took on a nasty smirk, “You’re just his dead little brother’s bastard, little more than an embarrassment, whatever your skills.”

Hector ignored the jibe, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t heard the like before, “No… he wouldn’t, not with how you’ve downplayed my reports. He doesn’t have the full picture. I don’t have that authority… but I have that power, as your military commander. While you have constantly belittled your guard, undercut their loyalty every time you cut their pay, and treated them as little more than servants, I have trained them, shaped them, and given them my respect and loyalty.”

Baron Estrel went ghostly white. He hunched forward in his chair, almost as if he expected a blow. “You would not dare…”

“I do not want to,” Hector said softly. “You are my cousin, and whatever your faults, I do not wish to see you dead, much less do the deed myself. But I will, if you force my hand.” He met his cousin’s gaze, and for a moment, he thought he saw the man realize Hector’s own seriousness.

Then Baron Estrel sat up straight, “No, I call your bluff. You won’t do it, not with how Duke Peter will react. You would face execution, or worse, the Traitor’s Death. No, I relieve you of command, Hector. You will place yourself under house arrest, and await my judgment. I understand the pressures you are under, and I will be lenient when I take that into consideration.”

Hector closed his eyes, “Very well, cousin.”

He drew his sword and swung it in one swift motion. The blade slashed across his cousin’s throat, and a spray of blood fanned out across his books. Baron Estrel fell back in his chair, and his hands grasped at his ripped throat.

“I am sorry,” Lord Hector said. “But you left me no choice.”

He walked past the table, and to the door. He took a deep breath, then opened it.

He saw Robert Grayson turn. The old armsman had a moment to see Hector in the doorway, bloodied sword drawn. Hector did not give him time to react. He stepped forward and drove his blade into the armsman’s chest, all the way to the hilt, then caught him as he slumped.

“Why…” Grayson whispered.

“Because there was no other way,” Hector said. He held his old friend as he died, and some part of Hector died when he felt the last quiver go through Grayson’s body.

He lowered his dead friend to the floor, and glanced at Sergeant Grel. “Secure the room. No one enters without my word.”

The sergeant gave him a solid nod. His calm under the circumstances gave Hector pause and made him note that the sergeant might prove useful for other circumstances.

Hector drew the armsman’s sword. He retraced his steps to the foyer, and found Sergeant Steffan and Lady Rinata had paused their conversation. Estrel’s wife looked up at him with a look of confusion. “Hector, I thought I heard something…” Her eyes dropped to the sword in his hand. Hector saw realization flash through her eyes.

She reacted without hesitation. Sergeant Steffan’s hand had dropped to his own blade, but Lady Rinata whipped a hidden knife from her sleeve and drove it into his throat before he could react.

Hector gave a curse and ran towards her. She ran for the door.

Hector leapt off the stairs and felt something pop in his ankle as he landed in a stumble, between her and the doors.

She tried to skid to a stop, but the smooth stone tiles made her slide towards him.

Hector brought the sword up in a lunge. She twisted to the side at the last instant, and his strike caught her through the side rather than cleanly through the heart. She let out a shrill scream of pain, even as she whipped her blade at his face.

Hector dropped the sword and stumbled back. He clutched at his face in pain. He heard the doors open behind him.

He turned to find the two armsmen from outside. They stared between him and the wounded Lady Rinata in shock for a second. Hector used their hesitation. He reached down and ripped the sword out of her and spun to attack the nearest. His sword caught the younger man before he could get his own blade out. The other leapt to attack with a shout of alarm.

Hector blocked the strike and then lunged to run the guard through.

He looked down and saw Rinata clutch at her side. “Why, we loved you like a brother, why would you–”

Hector thrust down with the sword. He left it planted in her heart.

He stumbled away from the bodies and took a seat on one of the chairs. A moment later, several of his own guards swept in, followed by servants and more armsmen. “Captain Grayson and the two guards on duty went mad,” Hector said. He clutched at the cut on his face. “They attacked Lady Rinata, and when I went upstairs, I found they’d killed Baron Estrel.”

His own men stood silent, while the remaining armsmen stood in shock. Several of the servants gave out wails, and Hector saw Lady Rinata’s maids rush to her side.

“There can be no doubt of Captain Grayson’s guilt,” Hector said. “He left his sword planted in her.”

Sergeant Tunel, Grayson’s second in command stared between the bodies and Hector. “My lord… this is impossible. Captain Grayson would never hurt them.”

“I came here to confront him,” Hector said. “I found paperwork that suggested he had debts to a criminal, and he had sold information to the Armen to pay off those debts. I never expected his betrayal ran so deep.”

“This…” Tunel looked between Hector and the bodies of his men. “Lord Hector, you are the senior ranking man on the scene. However, I must request that you send for one of Duke Peter’s officers to investigate and magistrates to take down sworn statements.”

“Of course,” Hector said. “I will dispatch a messenger at once.” He looked over at his guards, who stood unobtrusively at the doors. “Secure the area, and send a runner to Magistrate Helman. Tell him we need him here to take statements and collect evidence. Also, send for a courier and I’ll write up a message for him to deliver to Duke Peter, along with a request for his assistance in this matter.”

Sergeant Tunel nodded and Hector saw him relax slightly. Even so, the armsman continued to look suspicious. Hector made note of that. He would have to make sure that some evidence implicated the armsman… and that he suffered a fatal wound when he resisted arrest. It pained him to kill another good fighting man, but armsmen were loyal to their charges first and foremost.

He did not expect for the story to last or even for most to believe it. But it would serve as a polite fiction. Magistrate Helman would find the evidence which would uphold Hector’s story. Whatever officer arrived from Duke Peter, he would have only Hector’s men as witnesses and evidence collected by Helman would support their story.

In the meantime, Hector would take his cousin’s position, as both the senior military officer and the nearest blood relation. He knew that some others might have claims to the once-wealthy barony, but few would want to press those given the Armen threat and the state of disrepair.

Hector glanced around the room. “Let us hope that this is the end of any treasonous plot,” he said. He spoke the truth, for he wanted no more bloodshed. Let this be the end, he thought, let Duke Peter accept this, despite whatever suspicions arise.

***

 

In Eoriel, the High Kings are legend: rulers who once stood against the darkness and ruled the world for two thousand turns of peace and prosperity. In the long turns since their fall during the Sundering, Eoriel’s civilization has faded. Dark men and darker beings have torn down and destroyed the old works. While some have held out against the grind of history, other places have been reduced to primitive tribes of savages, worshiping dark spirits and demons as their gods.

Yet, a spark of hope remains: some still believe in the old legends, some still fight to restore the old ways, and some will stand against the darkness, in an echo of the High Kings.

Fantasy, Reading, Writing

Echo of the High Kings Second Sample

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Here’s the second sample from Echo of the High Kings.  Once again, Echo of the High Kings will be published on 1 August 2014.  For the first sample, check here.

Lord Hector

Town of East Reach, Longhaven Barony, Duchy of Masov

Twenty-Ninth of Idran, Cycle 993 Post Sundering

 

Lord Hector pulled his cloak tighter against the damp air of the tavern as he read through the scout’s report. He wasn’t certain if the cool, damp fall air or the dire news laid out in the precise handwriting on the parchment that made the gooseflesh rise on his arms.

“You need to kill him tonight,” his spy said, his voice tight with strain.

Hector’s head snapped up and he met the blue eyed gaze of the source of the reports. “You seem eager for me to commit treason based on the Armen threat.” For a moment, he almost forgot that the dusky-skinned man across from him wasn’t one of the barbarians from the north. He had seen many such faces, often marked with ritual tattoos or brands, often blood-spattered from their work. Most of what he saw at little better than arms reach as they tried to take his life and he theirs.

Hector didn’t realize that his hand had dropped to his sword until the other man reached out and put his hand atop Hector’s, “I do not seek to drive you to treason… I seek to save these lands from the savagery that we both know awaits. You raised me to be your spy amongst the Armen and your scout on campaign. Believe me, father, the Armen will come with the spring.”

Hector failed to hide a wince. It wasn’t that he didn’t have pride, of a sort, in his bastard son’s accomplishments. Yet, the truth remained, his boy was a halfblood… and while half his blood came from Hector, the other half of that blood came from the enemy. Hector shot a glance around the all-but-empty tavern, but it looked like the old drunks at the bar had little interest in their conversation. Hector’s eyes lingered on a hooded man in the corner, but the hunched figure in the shadows looked to be too far away to overhear their conversation. Even so, Hector pitched his voice low so it would not carry, “I sent you to gather information. You brought back rumors and vague warnings, talk of sorcerers and the mutterings of Armen holy men. I can’t bypass Baron Estrel and go to the Duke with this, not without hard numbers.”

“Do not allow your hate for me to blind you to the truth, father,” his son said. For a second, he looked so much like is mother that Hector had to look away. His chest ached with a long-remembered pain and Hector’s left hand stroked a scar that ran along his left thigh.

“I don’t hate you,” Hector managed to mutter. “But as you said, if this is all I have, then I am left one option: kill the rightful Baron of Longhaven and take his place. Otherwise, there isn’t time to prevent his next tribute shipment.”

Hector’s son nodded, “You can’t go to the Duke without solid proof, or Baron Estrel will undercut anything you say. The barony will fall without a strong leader. Your cousin has whored away his father’s gains. The talk amongst the Armen is that his lands are ripe for raiding.”

Hector nodded despite himself. He had arrived two cycles earlier, sent by the Duke with direction to try to repair some of the damage Baron Estrel had done to his defenses. What he had found had made the most pessimistic reports of the Barony’s readiness look far understated. Little remained of Baron Estrel’s forces. Most of his soldiers were unfit for duty, and his Master of Arms was an old drunk. Hector had done what he could, but the truth remained that the Barony was in a state of disarray… a fact that the Armen raiders knew quite well. Estrel had held them off until now with bribes and tribute, but even the Armen knew that soon he couldn’t afford any more. Soon the Armen would descend along the coast. They would rape, enslave, pillage and burn, and Hector had seen what they left behind often enough to feel sick at the thought.

Hector’s mouth twisted in a grimace, “I know what I have to do, yes… and I know the cost. If even a whisper of this gets out, the Duke will demand justice. My head will be the one that rolls for this.” Hector looked down and noticed that his wine sat untouched. He took a sip of his wine and the liquid burned in his throat. He shook his head as his vision flared for a moment. His head felt a little light.

“You need not face that,” his son shook his head. “Have me do it, father. It will look like an Armen raid, I’ll even hire a few Armen to launch a distraction. Even if I fail, the worst anyone will think is that I’ve betrayed you.”

Hector heard the words as if through a tunnel. He shook his head again, and he heard his own response as if it came from someone else, “You think I lack the stomach for it, do you?” He hadn’t realized that he stood until he heard his chair hit the floor behind him. Some part of him wondered at his own reaction, yet it was a disconnected thought, one he barely noticed.

His son stretched out an arm, “No! I merely think that this is the best way to do this! Please, sit. I did not mean to anger you, father–”

Hector seemed to rush back into himself and his head cleared. Forgotten was the lightheaded feeling, replaced by a spike of rage, “Do not dare to try to placate me!” Hector shouted. “You think me too cowardly to do the business myself, you seek to make me skulk behind you and then you seek to insinuate that I’m unreasonable?!” Incandescent rage filled him, and only the shreds of his self control allowed him to rip his hand away from the hilt of his sword. “Begone,” Hector snarled.

He saw his son’s face go slack with shock and then firm with rage of his own. Even so, he tried to reason with him, “Please, do not do this. You need some cut out or this will all be for naught–”

Hector saw some movement behind his son, the cloaked man in the corner. For a moment, Hector met the other man’s dark eyes. Hector thought he saw the slightest twist of a smile on the other man’s shadowed face. He laughs at me, just as my son always has… The smile was the last straw, the catalyst that sent his rage to boil over.

Hector leaned across the table and struck his son twice, once across each cheek. “You are no son of mine. You’ve done your task, now begone, and let a man of honor do his duty.”

Hector righted his chair as his son turned away without a word. He saw that the drunks had given him their attention, but a glare from him sent them back to their drinks. Hector sat and stared down at the reports and ignored the sound of the inn’s door as his son walked out into the cold fall rain. Hector pushed the wine goblet away and stared down at the reports. A part of him wanted to get up, to go after his son.

Yet his pride and his anger kept him in his chair and his duty forced him to examine what he had to do. He knew how to do it and he knew exactly what it would cost him to do it right. He was right to tell his son that he must do the deed himself. Hector was sent by the Duke to fix things, and so it fell to him to make it right. If nothing else, he owed it to his cousin to kill him in person.

Hector rolled up the parchment report and his gaze went distant as he began to make plans. He went past the immediate deed and had begun to plan his campaign against the Armen for the spring within a few minutes. He never noticed the hooded man from the corner as he slipped out of the tavern, just as the tavern maid hadn’t noticed when he slipped a vial of amber liquid in Hector’s wine when he’d entered.

***

Blurb

In Eoriel, the High Kings are legend: rulers who once stood against the darkness and ruled the world for two thousand turns of peace and prosperity. In the long turns since their fall during the Sundering, Eoriel’s civilization has faded. Dark men and darker beings have torn down and destroyed the old works. While some have held out against the grind of history, other places have been reduced to primitive tribes of savages, worshiping dark spirits and demons as their gods.

Yet, a spark of hope remains: some still believe in the old legends, some still fight to restore the old ways, and some will stand against the darkness, in an echo of the High Kings.

Echo of the High Kings will be published on 1 August 2014

Fantasy, Reading, Writing

Echo of the High Kings First Sample

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This section is the opening scene in Echo of the High Kings.  Echo of the High Kings will be released on 1 August 2014.

 

Lady Katarina Emberhill

Castle Emberhill (Ducal Seat) Duchy of Masov

Twenty Seventh of Idran, Cycle 993 Post Sundering

 

Katarina ducked under the swing of her opponent and swung wildly in return. Her hit connected with his shield, but he grabbed her arm, lifted, and threw her flat on her back to the cold, muddy ground of the stable yard. Katarina felt the air woosh out of her lungs and for a moment, stars danced before her eyes. She caught her breath with a gasp and scowled up at Jarek, “You cheated.”

He smiled down at her, his brown eyes merry. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you wanted me to train you the prim and proper methods of fighting. It’s not like you’re going to duel someone.”

Katarina groaned and sat up. She felt the chill mud of the stable yard through her leather riding clothes and as she ran a hand through her raven black hair, she realized that she had more there… in addition to the sweat from the past hour of impromptu ‘training’ from Jarek.

Jarek looked behind her and his face went pale. Katarina saw him snap to attention, his wooden practice sword discarded, “My lord.”

Katarina felt her heart drop. She stood as quickly as she could manage and turned. As she’d feared, Lord Peter, Duke of Masov, sat on his horse at the stable yard entrance. Her father had no expression on his face, but she could see the irritation and disappointment in his eyes. Worse, she saw a half dozen mounted men behind him, many of them dressed in fine furs and robes on the blustery fall day. Their expressions ranged from amusement to disgust.

Katarina gave the best curtsey she could manage, “Father.”

The slight pinched expression he showed then suggested that he almost didn’t want to admit his connection to her. Katarina bit the inside of her lip at that realization. It wouldn’t be the first time, she thought, although finding me in this state, breaking my promise not to try to train in fighting is sure to reach a new level.

“Jarek, I will speak to Lord Elaisz about this, you may go,” Duke Peter said as he dismounted. Katarina winced at that. Lord Eliasz was the Baron of Zielona Gora, Jarek’s father, and her own father’s closest adviser. One of the stable boys ran out to catch the reins of his horse. Duke Peter walked forward to stand in front of Katarina. She was almost his height, a fact that did not instill any confidence in her. “Katarina, we will discuss this later. Get yourself cleaned up and come to my study.” The lack of emotion in his voice hurt even more than the cold look in his gray eyes.

Katarina managed a curtsey to her father and a polite nod at the noblemen and then hurried away from the scene as her eyes welled up. I just wanted to learn, she thought, angrily. Her brother, Peter, had already begun training. She had heard that women in other nations, even Marovingia, learned at least some weapons training. Her father had denied it to her, with multiple reminders that proper women did not find interest in such things.

Half in tears, she almost ran into her little brother as she raced through the corridors of the keep. He blinked at her, “What’s wrong? How’d you get so muddy, you better get changed before someone sees you.” Behind him she saw his armsman, Zeno.

Katarina pushed past him and rushed to her room. She heard him behind her, “Kati, what’s wrong?”

Katarina turned, “Father’s back. I’m sure he’ll be glad to see you.” She couldn’t help the vitriol in her voice. With Father, Peter can do no wrong, she thought, while I can do nothing right.

She saw the look of shock on his face. Katarina wiped at the tears on her face and sighed. She miserably spoke, “I talked Jarek into teaching me how to fight, in the stable yard because we thought it would be mostly deserted. Father showed up right after Jarek dumped me in the mud.”

Peter winced, “I told you I could train you what I’m learning…”

“No,” Katarina said. She looked around the hallway and dropped her voice. “Peter, you’re the heir. You can’t be seen disobeying father, or there will be half a dozen people who will spread rumors about you.” Katarina sighed, “I’m his too strong-willed daughter, who rides horses and reads books.” She didn’t know if Peter understood. People didn’t talk as freely around him as they did her. In some ways, being considered the outcast meant she heard much more of the gossip and talk, in part because people didn’t care what she overheard.

“Look, just trust me, it was better that I do it that way. Besides, I’m five foot tall, you’re only three feet tall. Jarek’s a better match for me.”

Peter scowled, “I bet he’s in trouble, huh?”

Katarina winced again, “Yeah, Father said he’s going to tell Lord Eliasz.”

“Well, if you don’t want Mother to see you like that, you should probably head down the back stairs, she’s on her way up to make sure that the guest wing is prepared for the guests,” Peter said. He still looked confused and a little hurt that she hadn’t involved him. But the things she’d heard some of the noblewomen talk about… she didn’t want to make things more difficult for her family. She had intended her little training session to be a secret. Next time, I’ll do it in some of the hidden passages, she thought, assuming there is a next time.

Whatever trouble Jarek got into, she was certain she could talk him around. Though she had the feeling he wouldn’t be too fond of her for the next week or two until his father forgave him. Like Peter’s relationship with their father, Jarek and Lord Eliasz were close and Katarina felt certain that whatever punishment Jarek received, he’d be more upset by his father’s disappointment in him than anything else.

Katarina gave Peter a nod, “Thanks, Peter. Father will no doubt tell her soon enough, but I’d rather not have the confrontation right now.” She turned away and rushed to her room. She felt more than a little grateful that her father hadn’t moved her out of the children’s wing yet. Really, at her age, it was customary that she be moved to adult quarters in Estera Tower. But Estera Tower’s bathing rooms were designed around proper adult women who never got muddy or dirty at all. The children’s suites all had access to the larger bathing chamber, because even noble children got messy.

Katarina bathed quickly and then rushed back to her room. She frowned when she found two of her father’s armsmen outside her door. The older one, Tomek gave her a nod and a slight smile, “Lord Peter wanted someone down here to keep watch.”

Katarina managed a nod and continued past them into her room. Tomek was one of her father’s oldest armsmen, he had served her grandfather, from what she’d heard. She thought, briefly, to ask what had happened to her last armsman, Covle. She thought better of it though. Neither looked comfortable down here, away from their main charge. For that matter, Covle had disappeared so suddenly and without any fanfare that Katarina felt certain it meant he’d done something dreadful.

His disappearance had made her more recent adventures possible. Without an armsman to follow her around, she had been able to explore the hidden passages within Emberhill Castle for hours and even had time to convince Jarek to train her a bit on fighting. Combined with the fact that Armsman Covle Darkbit always made her feel uncomfortable, she hadn’t asked many questions about his departure. He would always get those weird smiles on his face when he thought no one was looking, Katarina remembered, like he knew some secret that no one else did.

She found her maid, Linsey, awaiting her, a disapproving frown on her face. “My lady, I warned you that you’d get in trouble.” Katarina pinched her lips together against a retort. She didn’t know why her mother had assigned the skinny woman to her. Linsey was the keep’s most poisonous gossip. Katarina had little doubt that half the castle would know about the incident before evening.

“Not a proper thing for a Lady to do, you ask me,” Linsey said. “For that matter, riding isn’t even proper, not unless you’ve some place to go, and then a carriage or palanquin is far more proper…” the woman continued her tirade and Katarina made polite noises as Linsey helped her into a dress. Katarina was tall and thin for her age, at six cycles, though she wouldn’t be considered of age until nine cycles. Katarina still had a ways to grow for that matter, a fact which quite vexed Linsey. This newest dress was already too short, and in another few weeks Katarina wouldn’t fit into it at all.

As she stared into the mirror, Katarina realized that she looked more and more like her mother. She had the same curly black hair, the same pale skin, and her thin face with sharp nose and arched eyebrows. She was fast catching up with height, for her mother towered over most people in the Duchy of Masov. Perhaps, she thought enviously, I’ll even grow into her curves.

As if on cue, the door to her room opened and her mother swept in. Katarina rose and curtseyed, and her mother gave her a slight sniff and a nod. She glared at Linsey, “I told you to ensure she was presentable to our guests. I’m holding you responsible for that incident in the stables.”

Katarina winced. Linsey would take that out on her. The maid had a joy of using a brush to dig into her scalp and yank at her dark hair when she was angry. Besides, it wasn’t as if Linsey had known the Duke would be back so soon. Even for her dislike of the maid, she spoke up, “Mother, Linsey didn’t know that the Duke would be back, she couldn’t have warned me.”

“She did, indeed, know that,” her mother said. Lady Alexia scowled at Linsey, “I told her that Duke Peter would return this morning.” Anger cut sharp lines into her mother’s face, and Katarina realized with a shock that her mother had aged much in the past few years. Lines of gray worked through the dark curls of her hair. “And I specifically told her not to let you go out riding, much less get into this kind of mischief.”

Linsey looked away, “My lady…”

“We will speak of this later,” Lady Alexia snapped. “You are dismissed.” She waited as the maid left, then turned her blue eyed gaze on Katarina. “You look much more presentable, though I doubt anyone will look at you now and see aught besides the mud spattered girl they first laid eyes on.”

Katarina lowered her head, “I’m sorry, Mother.”

“I can’t be angry at you, my dear,” Lady Alexia said. “I might as well be angry at water for being wet, the Viani for being mysterious, or Auir for shining.” She gave a sigh. “But you do try my patience.” Lady Alexia took a deep breath. “Your father wished to keep this… quiet, but the purpose of this event tonight was to show you off… for potential betrothal.”

“What?” Katarina asked in shock. She had known, theoretically, that she would be betrothed and married someday… but that day had seemed a distant thing.

“Half the Duchy’s nobles have come, along with their heirs. We’ve even a couple noblemen from Boir, Lord Hennings and Lord Anhalt,” Lady Alexia said. She saw the expression of shock on Katarina’s face and sighed. “Child, I know that this is a rude awakening, but it is… was, a good thing. Things are, uncertain right now, and growing more so. A betrothal could prevent bloodshed, could stabilize things somewhat.”

Katarina nodded. She’d heard some of the rumors and she knew her duty, yet she had hoped for greater freedom. For a brief moment, she wished she’d been born a boy, so that she could learn to fight, so that she’d have her father’s love and respect. So that she wouldn’t be some prize to be sold off to build a political alliance. “Very well.”

“Look,” her mother sighed, “You know that… your Father and I, our arranged marriage has not been the best example.” The two almost never spoke, Katarina knew. Though how much of that was due to the fact that her father was Starborn and so would still be youthful and young long after her mother died of old age was uncertain. Katarina had never heard them argue, yet there seemed some underlying bitterness that meant that they barely spoke in private.

Even so, they were publicly a team, a strong marriage. Though Katarina knew that her mother’s place of birth was something that many noblewomen held against her. Lady Alexia came from Marovingia, so she was seen as an outsider. Would Katarina face the same fate, she wondered? Would she go to some distant land in order to build an alliance?

Katarina gave her a nod. Her mother smiled slightly, “My dear, it will be alright, I promise you.” A distant look went over her face, “I will do everything I can to make certain that you and young Peter will be cared for, no matter what it might cost me.”

Katarina frowned at that in confusion. Her mother sighed at the expression on her face, “Katarina, we’ve wasted enough time. Your father is in his study. Go see him, accept whatever punishment, and do not further aggravate him. He has enough worries, now.”

Katarina left. Her footsteps carried her out of the children’s wing and down the lone access corridor that led to the Duke’s quarters. Her father’s two armsmen followed her, their faces somber. She paused outside the library door. The library had always been her favorite room in the keep, even before she found the hidden passages that connected to it. She used to spend hours of her childhood, seated in one of her father’s oversized chairs and reading the history books. She’d particularly liked the stories of the times when her father’s people, the Starborn, had arrived to Eoria. She was fascinated by the thoughts that other worlds awaited beyond her own and of the brave men and women who had shaped this world and had raised the banners of civilization and brought an end to the generations of war. The Starborn had established their Codes to prevent disease and outbreak, introduced concepts of crop rotation and fertilization, and and established their Laws which applied to all, noble and peasant alike. In the two thousand cycle reign of the Starborn High Kings, their civilization had spread across the Five Duchies and even to the distant continent of Aoriel. They had even, briefly, maintained outposts on Eoria’s twin world, Aoria.

If the High Kings still ruled, I’d be free to pursue my own dreams, Katarina thought bitterly. But then she buried that thought. The High Kings had been gone for almost a thousand cycles, brought down by betrayal and bloodshed on a scale that had nearly eradicated civilization entirely. She couldn’t call on their justice, they were dead and gone, so long ago that even their spirits were silent. Katarina took a deep breath and worked up the courage to pushed the library door open. The two armsmen took up positions outside. Inside she saw that the study door was partially open, and she heard raised voice from within. She recognized Lord Eliasz’s voice first. “…Baron Oltsztyn is willing to use that to his advantage. Particularly after you embarrassed him by releasing his bastard son from the Ducal Guard.”

“Can you blame me?” Duke Peter asked, his voice harsh. “Darkbit came to me and insisted that I give him my daughter’s hand, in exchange for his ‘services.’ He all but said it was a bribe to keep his mouth shut.”

Katarina felt a chill as she realized what that meant. Her stomach twisted with revulsion at the thought. Covle Darkbit wanted to marry me, she thought. All of the man’s odd smirks and arrogance took on a new light. No wonder her father had dismissed him.

“Still, it’s a good thing he’s estranged from Oltsztyn, otherwise he might try to make some deal with him,” Lord Eliasz said. “Worse, he might try to take this to Lord Estrel of Longhaven.”

“Doubtful,” Duke Peter said, his tone bitter. Katarina didn’t have to wonder at that. She had heard the rumors of how poorly mismanaged Longhaven was. Lord Estrel was her cousin, the eldest son of her grandfather’s youngest brother, and after Peter and herself, he was the next in line for the inheritance. “Estrel would love the opportunity, but he hasn’t the money to tempt Covle Darkbit. Besides that, don’t forget Lord Hector is his military commander, with orders to try and set things right with their defenses.”

“Hector?” Lord Elias asked. “Your bastard nephew?”

“The same,” her father said. “Though Estrel has him on a tight rein from what I hear. I just hope it’s enough to stabilize Longhaven. A cycle or two is all we need to fix some of this,” Duke Peter said, his voice tired. She moved closer to the door, though she gave a nervous glance over her shoulder at the library door. It would be… awkward to be caught eavesdropping on her father and his chief adviser, especially after the earlier events of the day. “You’ll have to punish Jarek,” he said, his voice sad. The change of topic confused her. With the discussion of politics she’d almost forgotten about her own misadventure.

“I know,” Lord Eliasz said. “I’m thinking I’ll send him back home. Ancestors know I need someone to look after things. My other boy… well you know, he’s not fit to rule. Jarek can get some experience looking after things and keep Rodik out of trouble, hopefully.”

“I thought it was good at first at how well they go along, but they’re both too demon-spawned eager to get into mischief,” her father said. “I can’t blame Jarek, not really. Katarina though…” Her father sighed. “Well, there’s nothing for it. She’s basically upset the entire betrothal discussion in one act. I’ll have to bend over backwards now, to get the concessions we’ll need… which might well give up more than we can afford. Thank the High Kings she wasn’t born a boy or she would be a disaster.”

Katarina felt tears well up in her eyes. She stumbled back from the door and went as far away from the study as she could go. She found herself at the back corner of the library, next to the thick history books which she’d so enjoyed. I’d be a disaster, would I? She looked at the books and her fingers traced the spines. She had disappointed her father, caused him pain, and she didn’t know if there would ever be a way to earn his trust back… she could see that now.

She wouldn’t bother, then. If he so hated her, if she was this disaster, then she would live life her way… and to hell with the consequences.

***

Blurb:

In Eoriel, the High Kings are legend: rulers who once stood against the darkness and ruled the world for two thousand turns of peace and prosperity. In the long turns since their fall during the Sundering, Eoriel’s civilization has faded. Dark men and darker beings have torn down and destroyed the old works. While some have held out against the grind of history, other places have been reduced to primitive tribes of savages, worshiping dark spirits and demons as their gods.

Yet a spark of hope remains. Some still believe in the old legends, some still fight to restore the old ways, and some will stand against the darkness, in an echo of the High Kings.

Echo of the High Kings will be released on 1 August 2014

Conventions, Fantasy, Reading, Science Fiction, Writing

Kal’s July Writing Updates

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I’m pleased to announce that Echo of the High Kings is on schedule to be released on 1 August 2014.  Echo of the High Kings is an epic fantasy novel that I’ve been working on, through multiple iterations, for a long while.  It is the first book of the Eoriel Saga, which will be a long series.  In the next couple weeks leading up to it’s release, I’ll have sample sections and other goodies.  It will be exclusive to Amazon and will be part of their Amazon Select program.

I’ll be working on Wrath of the Usurper, the sequel to Echo of the High Kings, in August and September, with a goal to release it in the winter.

In other news, work on The Shattered Empire continues.  I’m doing some of the final bits on it and will have it out to my alpha readers in the next couple weeks.  If all goes well and I feel that the final product is ready for it, I’ll try to have it out in early to mid September.

For fans of The Renegades series, I’ll be working on Renegades: Out of the Cold during the fall.  Renegades: Out of the Cold will follow the crew of the Gebnyr as they reach human civilization once again.  The release date for Renegades: Out of the Cold will probably be in the December/November timeframe.

Lastly, it’s not writing news, but I’ll be at Myths and Legends Con in Denver on 8-10 August 2014.  I will be on at least one panel and for those who want a book signed or want to get a (discounted) print copy, feel free to talk with me after a panel or in the halls.

Fantasy, Reading, Writing

Building an Epic Fantasy World: Modern History, Trade, and Society

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So up until this point, I’ve developed my world, Eoria, configured what technology is available, what magic works, and even what people populate it. See the last post, on the history and cultures here. Today I’ll design the modern history, talk a bit about trade & industry, and design the societies that make up Eoria.

First off, when I left off, the lowlands civilizations were disparate, which didn’t allow them to unify and push the highland barbarians or northern barbarians back. This was exacerbated by the southern jungle civilization, which I’ve named Vendakar, who prefers the other civilizations weak and uses the slave trade produced by the barbarian raiders for their own ends.

Now, into this, I want to introduce the start of modern times, the notion of a central authority or leadership. I could map out the rise of some great conquerer… but I want to give them more of a feeling of legitimacy, rather than someone who just beat everyone else down. I also want to show, again, that this world is part of a greater universe… and that mankind didn’t originate here. So, I’ll introduce a new people, the Starborn. The Starborn arrive at Eoria during a period of heavy raiding by the barbarians. They come to Eoria aboard their ship, and they intially seek little contact with the natives, establishing a secure colony on their own. However, as their technology begins to fail, they are drawn into the local politics. As a contrast here, some of the Starborn seek to remain apart, others think that they should use their weapons and technology to seize power and rule, and a third group wants to work with the natives. The three groups have a short but brutal civil war in which the group that wants to work with the natives is victorious, while the conquistadors are exiled, sent north, where they found their own nation, called Darkstar. The isolationists are discouraged by both groups and head off on their own, to try and preserve ‘pure’ technology, rather than the magic and mysticism they see elsewhere. The majority of the Starborn begin to work with the locals. In particular, they are drawn to help in the fights against the barbarians. The leader of this faction, from the previous civil war, helps to unify the smaller nations, so that they work together against their common enemies. In the process, he steps into the role as the overall leader of their alliance… eventually coming to become their High King as things solidify. The five lowlands civilizations become the Five Duchies, each independent in their own lands but unified under the High King’s leadership.

The Starborn also bring ideas of sanitation, crop rotation, fertilizers, rule of law, and other low-tech but still important elements of civilization. With the assistance of the starborn, the five civilized nations defeat the rising tide of barbarism. They also experience a population boom from the increased hygiene, improved economy, and higher food yields. The Starborn, partnered with the nobility of these lands, slowly move into leadership positions, often intermarrying with the locals. Some prefer to remain in isolation, living separately, but many become the leaders of these other nations over generations.

The reign of the Starborn High Kings is a time of peace and prosperity. The Starborn value individual freedoms and personal responsibility as well, so there remains some upward mobility in most of their lands. They also approach magic from a scientific stance, so they push the boundaries of magical theory.

Going into each of the Five Duchies, I can decide what their strengths and weaknesses are, what they trade for and produce, and what the defining characteristics are. I’ve named them: Marovingia, Asador, Taral, Boir, and Masov, roughly from west to east.

Marovingia is the furthest south, along the equator, and blessed with plenty of rainfall and good weather. It acts as the breadbasket for the rest of the Five Duchies, with huge farms that produce food over multiple growing seasons during the year. The Marovingians, unlike most of the Five Duchies, do not venerate spirits of places or ancestors… they worship their gods. Their gods are physical beings, men and women who are born with a natural connection to the spirit world, and who are able to manifest powers. Marovingians are the closest to the Vendakar Kingdom, so they are bitter rivals. Marovingia’s large population and large percentage of land ownership gives rise to citizen soldiers who fight in their legions.

Asador is a volcanic highland, of rolling plains and towering cinder cones. The people of Asador are as volatile as their lands, being known for fiery tempers and ancestral grudges. While they are likely to engage in bickering or feuds, they will work together against common foes. Asador’s plains give rise to herds of cattle and sheep and the people are split between the small towns, built like fortresses on the volcanic peaks and the roaming peoples who raise livestock and live on horseback. The volcanoes in Asador’s highlands provide power sources for their wizards, allowing them to harness that energy to power their magical inventions. Asador’s cavalry, both heavy and light, are their military strength.

Taral is another highland area. Taral, unlike the other Duchies, is much closer to barbarism. The people of Taral experience some of the strongest and fiercest winters on Eoriel, with snow depths reaching forty or fifty feet. Taral lies between two mountain ranges and the lake effect off the Boir sea buries the Duchy every winter in snow. The heavy run-off in the spring erodes Taral into steep gullies and ravines, floods fields, and feeds the multiple rivers and lakes. Due to the harshness of winter, Taral has developed expertise in enchanting, crafting sunwells which gather light all through the spring, summer and fall to allow them to grow crops underground to withstand the winter months. They’ve adapted their enchanting skills to other areas since, but each village and town is built around a sunwell and the sunwells are of extreme importance to them. The people of Taral are in constant skirmishes with the mountain barbarians as the two people feud over highland valleys to grow crops and run livestock.

Boir rests along the inland Boir Sea. The people of Boir are industrious and are often drawn to trade and exploration. They build the best ships and their shipmasters travel everywhere. Most cargoes in Eoriel travel in a ship from Boir. The shorter growing seasons mean they are dependent upon food imports to maintain their population, but they spend the long winters working and laboring, providing goods and items for export and trade. Boir’s naval forces are their primary military strength, designed primarily around defeating the northern barbarians sea raiders, who plague their coastlines.

The last of the Five Duchies is Masov. Masov is the largest and is separated from the rest of Eoriel by the Boir Sea and the Ryft, connected by land only at the Ryft Guard, a massive fortress which spans the Ryft at its narrowest point. Masov’s people are as varied as it’s terrain. In the northern lowlands, trade and industry are more important to the people, while in the southern highlands, farming and logging are what people do to live. Masov’s central area is thin, hedged on one side by the Eastwood and on the other by the ocean. Masov, however, is the oldest of the Duchies, and one of the first to support the Starborn High Kings and is seen as the cultural center for the Five Duchies. The main focus of magic in Masov is blood magic and the mages who practice their arts are the best healers in Eoriel. As a counter to this, those who stray into perversions of blood magic, sorcerers, are also more common here. The southern deserts and high mountain valleys are host to more of the barbarians in the south, while the northern lowlands are raided by the northern sea raiders, which gives the Duchy a unique perspective on threats.

With that baseline established, coming into more recent times, the High Kingdom has fallen into disrepair. The High Kings are extinct, brought down by betrayal. In the process, the Five Duchies have created their own feuds and have fought one another, setting the stage for no one Duchy quite trusting the other to have their backs. As a consequence, the barbarians and the Vendakar have been able to raid and attack more successfully. In particular, Taral is brought low by the mountain barbarians, with many of its towns and villages destroyed and its people surviving only in isolated mountain villages, small pockets of civilization against the barbarians. Since Taral lay central to the Five Duchies, it’s loss makes travel and communications between the others difficult, at best. Boir maintains travel by sea, but the increase in northern sea raiders makes that dangerous too.

The general decline of civilization means that knowledge and information are lost. The Starborn families that survived the fall of the High Kings associate less with the other people of Eoria. Lack of communication and trust means that civilization declines still more. The volatile people of Asador’s feuds erupt into full blown civil war when their Duke dies without a clear heir. Each of the Duchies is isolated and alone and the barbarians threaten to overwhelm them.

This, then, is the perfect place for my story to start. I have a rich history (which I populated with names, dates, and other fun historical stuff), I know what people are where and what motivates them. I know what magic works, what science and technology work, and how the different people can apply them. Civilization, on Eoria, is at the brink of collapse. Into this, then, I populate the characters, men and women who either want to give civilization that last push towards collapse or who want to bring it back from the brink.

That concludes my world building series, hopefully it helps other writers and, if not, then at least it proved interesting.

Fantasy, Reading, Writing

Building an Epic Fantasy World: Culture, Ancient History, and Societies

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In my previous post, I went into detail on how I designed magic and technology levels of Eoria and before that I designed the geography and physical make-up of the world. Now I’m going to discuss the social geography a bit. See the last post here.

First off, unless you’re writing some kind of utopian fantasy world, there’s going to be some conflict. Conflict is what makes things interesting, whether it is a conflict of words and discussion or one of hacking swords and bloodshed. That conflict can be over resources, philosophies, ideologies, or even just a continuation of previous feuds. Why does that matter for culture? Because few cultures grow up in isolation and it is inevitable that cultures will disagree about things.

First off, I wanted the main continent to have a rich cultural history and background. Just as our world has a history of empires rise and fall, so too would Eoria. The first human colonists landed on the far side of the world, and most expansion has occurred from there. So the first people who came to Eoriel, the main continent, were scattered tribes. Over time, they were unified, united as one people, though they still retained their original heritage. Their leader then formed them into a nation, the first real civilization on Eoriel. They would be similar to the ancient Egyptians of Earth, leaving monuments and ruins that other people would marvel over. These ancient people viewed the use of magic, in all its forms, as an art, and they slowly improved themselves, becoming a very static society, with little change. What happens in a static society without external threats is that they develop their own internal downfalls, which is what happened here. I didn’t want these folks around still, so I went with the old story: the nephew of their leader, tired of living in his shadow, assassinated him and broke their nation up into a civil war. In the process, he imported tribes from the other continent to serve as his troops, which he used to savage his opponents. These tribes were left standing over the ashes and ruins and revert to their previous barbarism. The surviving factions from the initial empire hole up in isolation and nurse their grudges.

This then sets the stage for another wave of migration. Other humans come to the (mostly) depopulated continent. They are builders of towns and cities and they gradually push the more barbaric tribals out of the good land, either shifting them north or pushing them into the high mountains.   They have some limited interaction with the survivors of the previous empire, but mostly they just established their small cities and towns. These are pragmatic types, explorers and colonists, people eager to build a place for themselves. They, however, are not ready when the barbarians push back, in an organized attack. The builders would form nations, developed around the geology I developed earlier, coalescing to unite against the barbarian threats, but each nation might not work with one another, leaving them unable to resolve the conflict.

This conflict between the two societies, the builders and the barbarians, sets the stage for uniting the builders against the common threat, while instilling in the barbarians a sense of grudges and unsettled disputes. The barbarians, especially if they are forced into the frigid north, have to live in harsh conditions. Since they were brought in by the old empire, they probably value themselves, as a culture, as warriors. Given the harsh conditions, they probably would lose much of their history, reverting to oral traditions and legends, perhaps even coming to venerate the general who brought them here to fight. Their hard lives will make them more pragmatic about what costs they’ll pay for survival, perhaps even coming to view the survival of the tribe or clan over individual lives and even developing a caste structure, in which warriors who go out and secure new sources of labor and food would be more valuable than those who produce that labor and food. They would be split, culturally, between those who moved north and those who lingered in the mountains and forests of the southern continent. The ones in the south would be even more desperate, being able to see the builders cities, farms and towns flourish while they barely scrape by in the mountains. These southern barbarians would be driven to even more savage acts, angry at how they’ve lost what they see as their legacy from the old empire.

This sets the stage for me to develop all three cultures in a conflict that, in turn, sets the stage of history. The mountain barbarians are savage, vicious people, driven by hardship to turn to allies and masters which most people would find unthinkable. The barbarians of the north would develop a raider culture, one which idolizes their warriors. This leads to the builder civilization focusing on their defenses and dehumanizing the two barbarian cultures, as well as being rather bitter over the previous empire which set the ground for this before. The three cultures would be in a sort of stasis, locked in battles where at one time or another, one side gains the upper hand, but the more numerous civilized groups can’t compete with the savagery and violence of the barbarians, nor can they stay united long enough to get through to the mountain strongholds and northern camps of their enemies to conquer and civilize them

Yet, at the same time, it’s missing something. I want these various cultures at odds with one another, but the mountain barbarians are at a severe disadvantage. They’re very likely to be worn down over time, their best fighters dying and their population declining and going extinct. While they might ally with the northern barbarians, they wouldn’t have communication. Also, they need some source of magical might to combat the civilized lands, to overwhelm their defenses. In short, there must be someone helping them. But why? Well, what about an ancient kingdom, in the south, who came over with the first wave. They bowed out of the ancient empire and remained independent. They follow their own gods, beings of evil and depravity. A wicked and ancient society, with an insatiable desire for slave labor and sacrifice. They’d view the mountain tribes as sources for both, and would likely facilitate a thriving slave for weapons trade, encouraging the mountain tribes and giving them aide against the newer peoples. This culture will have a dread approach to various forms of magic, using it as a method to reward and exalt their elite while their masses live in abject poverty, in fear that their wretched lives will end as sacrifice should the lines of slaves grow short.

I’ve now developed a system which would be relatively stable, allowing for conflict and a historical background that could maintain a history. Into this, I can then begin building a more recent history, with names and events that modern people in the setting will know.   In my next post I’ll talk about setting the stage for modern times.

Fantasy, Reading, Writing

Building an Epic Fantasy World: Magic, Science, Art, Scientific Method, and Technology

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In my previous post, I went into detail on how I designed the physical geography of the world and what considerations I had towards the setting. See the last post here. This time, I’ll go into what makes a fantasy setting, well, fantasy. Strapping men with bare chests and scantily clad women… er, no not that kind of fantasy. Magic, we’re talking about magic. Because that scene where the hero(ine) is about to cut loose and slay their foe is so much more impressive when they do so swinging a magic sword, right?

I’ll pause here and mention that I essentially shelved my entire writing project for years while I designed a magic system for it. This is not me tooting my horn, this is me warning you, as a reader, that it can be a process that takes over, that there are hazards in world building.

Like anything else in writing, magic should not be the end-all-be-all of the story. I spent years developing the rules of my magic systems and what it all boils down to is that it works best if it’s in the background of the story rather than front and center. The reader doesn’t want a ten page explanation of how the conjuring functions. Nor do they want the down on their luck adventurers to have the day saved at the end of the story because… well, it’s magic! Establishing rules for it is a good way to avoid the latter, while the former is something to avoid through improving your writing craft. Personally, I’m of the mindset that it’s better to have details that the reader doesn’t need than to leave the reader feeling that they were ‘robbed’ by the ending of your story.

All that said, what do you want to accomplish with the magic in your world? For me, I’m irritated by magic in books and movies that has no price. I’m an engineer by both education and trade, I know that energy has to come from somewhere… so when the wizard cuts loose with beam of purest light… where’s he getting the juice? Matter can neither be created or destroyed (energy too, they’re exchangeable). The answer, for my world, is that there are tons of power sources. Heat and light are the most common, and obvious, sources of power. Those are what our current technology relies upon to produce electricity. So, creatures and people who use arcane power do so from stores of energy they converted from heat or light… or other ‘free’ sources of energy.

This then led me to categorize what forms of magic we’ve heard of and to develop practical methods for them. I won’t go exhaustively into detail, but I developed rules for wizards, witches, gods, demons, priests, mages, and sorcerers, all based off of different methods of transfer, storage, and usage of that available energy. From here, I also applied different methods of each. Some wizards would approach the use of their magic in a scientific method, exploring the capabilities and potential through experiments and gradually refining it over time. Others, in turn, would approach it like an art form, eschewing crude or clumsy spells for ones that serve multiple purposes or accomplish a task with greater subtlety. Lastly, as far as magic, I figured knowledge would be powerful. Knowing about thermodynamic processes would give a spellcaster advantages. Understanding complex geometry when drawing a rune would improve their efficiency. Wizards, therefore, would need to be both well educated and smart enough to apply their knowledge of science. Mages and Sorcerers, whose magic is focused on biological constructs and modifying living creatures, would need to know exhaustive details of biology, chemistry, botany, and medicine, to better practice their arts. This in turn, also applied to the cultures of the world. Some cultures would approach magic in scientific measures, experimenting and pushing the boundaries, while others would develop it to an art form. Still others would encourage the use of horrific biological experiments and creating monsters, while others would use the same forms of magic to prevent the spread of disease and heal.

The next step, for me, was why did humanity utilize magic instead of technology? At its simplest level, technology is sharply distinct from magic. There is a sharp cause and effect split. Praying to a spirit to put out a fire is far different than filling a bucket with water and dousing it. Some levels of technology would have to function or else the world wouldn’t make much sense. Muscle powered things such as weapons, tools, and the like would need to work. But why wouldn’t more complex things, like gunpowder, steam power, or even clockwork devices?

My solution to this issue was twofold. First, I’d already established that power had to come from somewhere. What if beings seeking power could take it from available sources? Steam power requires a heat source, and if an educated wizard can drain the heat out without the use of a steam engine, why would he want to build one? Furthermore, if there are energy beings in search of sources of power, items like steam engines would be targets. Energy beings would feed off of them, passing the heat to the outside air and gaining power in the energy transfer. The same would work for combustion engines. The same effect would work for chemicals such as nitroglycerin and gunpowder. Energy beings would see the potential energy in such items, and for a slight cost (a spark) they could harness the latent energy in one jolt… having catastrophic results for anyone in the area.

The second part, for me, was what would stop more advanced technology? In my planned background, the people of Eoria were descendents of multiple colonization waves. They lost their technology as it failed over time. The answer for me was a low grade electromagnetic field generated by the magnetic field of the star. This would cause electrical differences that would cause sparks, static welding, and other issues that would slowly cause failure on most technology. Everything from circuit boards to metal gears would be affected over time, gradually failing. Combined with the voracious energy beings of the planet, any high tech civilization which visited would have power cells drain rapidly, parts break, and would generally see a systematic failure of their equipment. Would there be a work-around? Of course, but the easiest method would be to adopt the local magic forms and once the transfer was made, then why try to rebuild a technology base when the infrastructure for magic is already in place?

That’s my method of designing magic and technology in my world. As you can see, I focused on what I wanted and then set the circumstances that would create that. Along the way, I established rules for the magic system, to limit the capabilities and explain what would work and what wouldn’t. Next post I’ll talk a bit about how I designed the cultures and societies of Eoria.

Fantasy, Reading, Writing

Building a Fantasy World: Geography, Climate, Weather, and Time

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I thought I’d do a bit of discussion about world-building, especially with a focus on fantasy genre world building. I’ll be using the setting of Echo of the High Kings for this, my upcoming epic fantasy novel. First, one thing I feel is valuable is taking the time to establish a world, culture, history, and all that goes with it. There are fantasy stories and novels where this is all kept very vague or even mutable. I would point out, however, that some of the most successful fantasy authors are the ones who have taken the time to build the world in which their characters live. It isn’t just about knowing what lies beyond the hills the characters are climbing, it’s also about knowing why the character’s culture and background might drive his decisions.

For my science fiction and fantasy novels, I like to do extensive world building. There are a million details that I like to know. The place I started, with my epic fantasy, was the world. I drew the original map as the first bit. Maps are a staple of epic fantasy, but that’s not why I drew mine. I drew it because I wanted to know where things were in relation to one another, long before I even started writing. I started with a large, central continent, which I gave a large inland sea. This sea both split the continent, and allowed for trade along its coastlines. I wanted trade to be well established, so that communications and travel are also established. Also, while I wanted each area to have its own background and culture, I wanted them speaking a common language in most of the areas, which basically required that they have constant communications and travel, else over generations their languages would shift. I also crafted a natural channel or rift that connected the inner sea to the southern ocean, and left the top of the sea open to the northern ocean. This meant that the natural trade facilitated by the inner sea could easily spread to the rest of the world. From there, I wanted to establish natural boundaries that would separate some of the more distinct cultures and empires. Mountains and rivers often act as the natural boundaries with nations, so that’s where I started. Also, with the large geological rift splitting the continent, I figured there would be some extreme tectonic upheaval. This served another purpose because I wanted a strong presence and threat of barbarians, so I established high mountain ranges, with deep, secluded valleys which could act as the refuges for these barbarians as they attacked the lowland civilizations. I also wanted an ‘evil’ empire, based in the south, so I crafted a deep jungle region for them to live in and follow their bloody and violent gods.

Map drawn, I wanted to know where this was in relation to other places. I made my decision, early on, that I wanted this world to be part of a greater universe. So I expanded it. The continent was joined by four others, which make up the world of Eoria. Eoria, I decided, has a severe axial tilt, which basically means that the seasons are very extreme, making for scorching hot summers and bitterly cold, dark winters. In addition, it has a much longer orbit than Earth, a total orbit that lasts six hundred and ninety nine days, which are twenty six hours long. I divided this up into twenty four months of twenty nine days, along with three non-month holy days. In addition, each month would have four weeks of seven days along with a single feast day. Why is that important? Well, it means that those scorching summers last for six months… and the winters the same. It means that a campaign or fighting season could last as long as eighteen months, depending on weather. It means that extreme snow-fall in the winter will lead to particular designs for buildings and that spring flooding will be a huge issue, as will drought control in the summer. This is a setting where survival of civilization requires work, hard work at that. Surviving winter is an endeavor that requires preparation and forethought and a certain level of pragmatism, especially in the far north where the growing season relative to the rest of the year is so short. With only a six month growing season, it makes sense that many northerners would turn to raiding to augment their supplies for eighteen months of cold and darkness. It makes even more sense that they might make pacts with beings or creatures that others might find unfathomable, in order to prevent death by starvation or freezing.

What about tides? And also, with that severe axial tilt, how is that maintained? Earth has a moon, a large one at that, which maintains our axial tilt and provides us with ocean tides. Here I came back to the fact that Eoria is going to be part of a larger universe. Maybe not at first, but they need to be able to adapt to the idea that there are other people out there. How better than another world, just as blue and green as our own? Thus, Eoria has a twin world, Aoria, also a life bearing world. In addition, it has cities and towns and people of its own. More, there has, at times, been contact back and forth. Thus, people know it is there, and the underlying assumption is that of course there are other worlds, other people. Eoria and Aoria are locked in orbit together, a dance that has lasted several billion years. They are distant enough that the tides are not extreme, though they are higher than what we are used to here on Earth. Why does that matter? This will make harbors and channels more important, for both tactical and strategic considerations. Deeper harbors will prevent ships from being stranded on low tide, while deep channels will remain navigable.

Moving outwards, there’s the star that both worlds orbit. I could call it ‘the sun’ but I’ve already established that this isn’t Earth. Nor is it some almost Earth. This is Eoria. In Eoria, they call their star Auir. Now with the orbit for Eoriel being so long and therefore so far out, Auir needs to be a bit warmer than our sun. Therefore, Auir burns a bit hotter and has a faint greenish cast to its light.

At this point, I’ve developed the world, its climate, its weather, and even a calendar. That allows me to link things not just to a timeline but also to peg down when characters might celebrate a holiday and when they might shutter their windows and hunker down in fear of dark or wicked spirits. The weather and geography allow me to design the cultures of the people that live in certain places and to justify some of the actions they may take as a result.

Fantasy, Reading, Writing

Free Stuff: Preview from Echo of the High Kings, Part 3

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A third installment from Echo of the High Kings.  The section covers a skirmish between Lady Katarina’s followers and some of Duke Hector’s men.

Aerion set his back against the tree and took a deep breath.  Through the trees, the squeal of pigs and the rumble of wagons carried.  He listened to that sound, and he waited.  For a moment, he remembered his home.  Aerion remembered Old Taggart’s voice, rough and low, filled with caution, as if every word were some precious coin to spend.  He remembered the smell of his mother’s apron, the scent of stew and bread, and of smoke from the wood fireplace in the inn. 

And then he remembered the fire, and the screams.

At that moment, a clear trumpet clarion sounded as Gerlin signaled the attack.

Aerion leaped from behind his tree, and immediately spotted the wagons, only thirty feet away.  He ran forward, hands clenched on the greatsword.  One of the guards on foot, raised a drawn bow, arrow pointed at Aerion.  The guard released just as Aerion stumbled.  Aerion felt the arrow’s fletching kiss his neck.

The guard reached for another arrow.  Aerion felt his world narrow, as everything but that guard and his bow vanished.  He felt his legs pump him forward.  His heart raced, a steady drumbeat that drowned all else out.  Aerion felt a cry of rage and fear open his mouth, but he couldn’t hear it, couldn’t hear anything.

The guard, knocked another arrow.  The mercenary seemed to move in slow motion.  He raised the bow, drew it back.

And then Aerion had closed the distance.  He swung the sword downward, all memory of his training lost, he swung the four foot blade like an axe.

The sword struck the mercenary between his right shoulder and his neck.  The blade chopped down through his simple leather armor, and a fountain of blood erupted.

Aerion stumbled back, spitting blood and suddenly sickened.  He had to tug hard, foot pressed against the corpse to pull his sword free.  Some motion sensed as much as seen caused him to turn.  He ducked under a spear thrust and caught the shaft just behind the barbed head.  Aerion pulled hard, and suddenly stood, face to face with a blonde bearded mercenary, his eyes wide, pupils dilated.

Aerion saw him release the spear, hands going for a dagger at his waist.  He brought the pommel of his sword up into his opponent’s face.   The mercenary stumbled back with a cry.

A shout made him turn, and he saw one of the Jasen on the ground, a brutish looking warrior above him with an axe.  Aerion lunged forward, sword extended.

The iron tip of his sword skidded off of the axeman’s chainmail.  Aerion continued his move and slammed his shoulder into the larger man’s back.  The axeman stumbled away, and Aerion stumbled back.

Another man, his face drawn in a rictus of hate, swung a sword at him.  Aerion brought up his sword to parry, and a shock went down his arm.  The beserk warrior swung again, and again Aerion blocked.  He kicked out, desperate to get some room to move, but his opponent caught the blow on his shield and continued his wild attack.

Again and again the madman battered at him, Aerion desperately swung his larger sword to block blow after blow.  He backed away, tried to gain some space, but his attacker didn’t slow his own pace, and continued to press him.

His feet caught on something.  Aerion fell back over a still body.  Aerion hit the hardpacked road on the flat of his back.  The impact drove all the air out of his lungs.  Aerion brought his sword up to block as his opponent swung a powerful overhand blow. 

The sword struck just inches above the crossguard with a sound like a hammer striking glass, the brittle iron of his sword snapped.

Aerion held the stump of his blade up in shock as the berserk warrior above him raised his own blade for the finishing blow.  Aerion kicked out hard.  His leg struck his attacker’s knee, which bent backwards with a horrific crackle.

The warrior dropped with a scream, and Aerion stood, still clutching the stump of a sword.  The beserker still swung his sword at Aerion.  He crawled towards him, maimed leg dragging.  Aerion saw Jasen, a bloody gash down the side of his face, drive a spear down into the beserker from behind.

“Grab his sword, boy!” Jasen shouted.  He pointed over Aerion’s shoulder.  “There’s more of them, ancestors know where they came from, but they’re attacking lady Katarina!”

Aerion felt a jolt of ice water pump through his veins.  He looked over, just in time to see eight horsemen push through a cluster of fighting.

He saw her then.  She stood in the middle of the road, only twenty feet away.  She had her sword in her left hand, something else in her right.  She looked like a scene from a story.  She stood like a savage warrior princess, her dark hair back in a braid, her chain shirt spattered with blood.

Aerion blindly reached down.  His fingers found the hilt of the sword that had nearly taken his life.  He charged forward.  Jasen had already run ahead, but Aerion’s longer legs easily outpaced him.

He sprinted past Lady Katarina, just as she raised her right hand.  He heard her shout something as he raced past.  He couldn’t hear her words over the roaring in his ears and his own labored breathing.

One of the horsemen reared before him, and swung down with a blade.

Aerion ducked under the horse’s head, then thrust up on the horseman’s left side.  He felt the lighter blade skitter off the horseman’s greaves, then catch and plunge up under his breastplate.

The horseman sagged, just as the frightened horse sidestepped.

Aerion jerked the blade free and turned, just in time to see two more behind him.  Time slowed again as he saw the nearest had his hammer raised, about to descend upon Aerion.  Aerion tried to force his body to move out of the path, but he didn’t have time.

He heard Lady Katarina shout something, her high, clear voice cut through the shouts and screams.

Aerion watched the hammer descend, saw his death in that swing, with no time to move out of the way or block it.

Then the world flared white.

Fantasy, Introductions and Greetings, Reading, Science Fiction, Writing

Kal’s New Year of Writing

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So, this is more of an update on my current writing schedule than anything else.  I’m a bit behind on getting things out (for which I deeply apologize).  On the other hand, I have the minor disclaimer that life has been extremely busy, between me transitioning from one duty station to another in the Army, getting married, the honeymoon, and a variety of other things.  Frankly, I’ve had to prioritize, and since my wife is very well armed and knows how to handle knives, swords, guns, and other dangerous items, naturally, my priorities have focused on the wedding and honeymoon planning.

Thankfully, she also reads science fiction and fantasy, so she’s understanding and tolerant of my writing.

That said, here’s what I’m working on, and my best guess as to when I’ll have it out, as far as I can see over the next year.

Renegades: Ghost Story is the fourth novella of the Renegades series.  I should have that out in early January.  Right now I’m waiting on a cover from the awesome Robert Brockman, who somehow finds time for that kind of thing on top of his normal job.

Echo of the High Kings is an epic fantasy novel, set on the world of Eoriel.  I’m doing the final(ish) rewrites on it right now.  My goal is to release that in February.  As something of an experiment, I’ll enroll it in one of Amazon’s programs and do a free release, so if you’re looking for an epic fantasy to get your teeth into, well, it’s hard to beat free, right?

The Fallen Race is the science fiction novel set in the same universe as The Renegades.  I’ll be releasing it once I complete the final edits, hopefully in the next month, possibly as early as mid January.

I’m also working a compendium of the Renegades novellas, complete with some additional content which I’d like to release sometime in February.  This will include the first four Renegades Novellas as well as three new short stories (to include one set from the perspective of Anubus) and will be released as paperback and ebook.

The next novella in the series, currently titled “Renegades: A Murder of Crowe’s” will be out not long after that.

The next three Renegades Novellas after that aren’t written yet, but they are outlined as “Out of the Cold”, “Assassin”, and “Privateer” and will be arriving between March and August of 2014.

I’ve projected the novel Fenris Unchained for a summer release, though that may shift dependent upon the rewriting I’ve got to do on that.

The sequels for Echo of the High Kings and the Fallen Race will finish up the year, and if I find the time, some additional Renegades novellas.

So, that’s what I’m up to.  Along the way, I’ll be moving, transitioning to yet another job in the Army, and generally trying to balance everything.