Senta and the Steel Dragon Book 3: The Drache Girl is now available as an ebook in a variety of formats. Follow the link: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/19309. Use coupon code QX34U to save $1.00 off the regular price of $4.99.
How do you pronounce “uuthanum?”
Oo-uh-than-um
“Gawp!”
Senta stepped onto the deck and knelt down by the box. Zurfina had dressed her in another weird outfit, this one a floor length black dress with a white collar. A black ceramic rose right in the front of her neck that made it difficult to look down at the high-heeled black sandals on her feet. Of course Zurfina had on a matching dress, and cut a striking figure standing along the railing of the forward deck with the Captain, Miss Dechantagne, the Dechantagne brothers, and other notables, all of whom were dressed in light summer clothing, as they surveyed the coastline.
“Pet!” said the dragon.
“Yep, it’s me,” said Senta. “I’m going to take you out, but you have to have your leash on.”
The dragon hissed. She opened the door of the carrier and the dragon climbed out onto the top. He turned his head and pointedly looked the other direction as she snapped the little chain onto the ring around his ankle. Once the little clip had snapped shut, Senta attached the other end of the chain to a bracelet on her right wrist.
“See there. We’re both chained by the wrist. Nobody’s the boss.”
“Gawp,” said the dragon, and then spreading its wings to balance, it climbed up her arm and onto her shoulder. It slithered down to lie across her shoulders, one hand and one foot holding onto her dress and one hand and one foot holding onto her hair. Senta stood up. The little dragon was now over four feet long from nose to tip of tail, but he was only about six inches thick across the belly and he was surprisingly light.
“What do you want to do?”
“Gawp.”
“Me too. This is sooo boring.”
The ship had been sailing parallel to the coast for the past four days and Senta was getting tired of it. What was the point of sailing all the way to Mallon, if you didn’t get out and walk around on it? Twenty days was more than enough time to explore every square inch of the largest battleship and Senta had spent more than three times that length of time on the Minotaur. Not even murders, gunfights, and drinking wine until you threw up could take away the boredom forever.
“Fina,” said the dragon.
“Alright.”
Senta walked toward the front of the ship. She had gone only about halfway to where Zurfina and the others stood watching the coastline roll past, when a figure stepped out of the shadows. A freckled face and striped shirt quickly identified the shady figure.
“Hey Graham,” said Senta.
“Hi Senta. What’ya doing?”
“Nothing. He wants to go up by the grown-ups.” She indicated the dragon with her thumb.
“Can I come?”
“Sure. Just don’t get too close, ‘cause he’ll bite you.”
“I thought he was tame.”
“You can’t tame a dragon. Zurfina says you can’t tame anything that’s smarter than you are.”
“Who says he’s smarter than me?” Graham was indignant.
“Not just you, stupid. Dragons are super smart. When he gets big, he’ll be able to talk and do magic and all kinds of cool stuff.”
“Brill,” said the boy.
Senta and Graham walked forward, the boy keeping several paces behind her at all times, until they reached the group of adults. Miss Dechantage was wearing a yellow dress with lots of lace and a matching hat, tied below her chin with a lace ribbon. Her dress was almost the same color as the suit Professor Calliere was wearing. It made him look like a very large banana. Mr. Korlann was much more dignified. His grey suit was so light that it would have seemed white, had he not been standing next to Miss Lusk in her white day dress. Senta saw Miss Lusk reach over discretely and touch Mr. Korlann’s hand. Wizard Labrith was wearing a light brown suit and Wizard Kesi, for once not in colorful silks, was dressed the same. They both stood near the back of the group, all four of their eyes boring holes into the back of Zurfina’s black dress. The two Dechantagne brothers were both wearing khaki safari clothes and pith helmets. The older brother looked like he was sick. Finally Father Ian had eschewed his traditional robes for a more modern suit with a clerical collar.
“This is it just ahead,” said Lieutenant Dechantagne, pointing. “You see the bay just here, and this land just beyond is the peninsula.”
“I’ll send word up to the Captain,” said the older Dechantagne brother.
“Children are limited to the aft deck of the ship,” said Miss Dechantagne, noticing Senta and Graham for the first time and looking down her nose at them.
“Children with dragons may go wherever they wish,” said Zurfina, without turning around.
Miss Dechantagne made a clicking sound with her tongue. Miss Lusk gave Senta a wink. Senta and Graham walked to the side, out of the way of the adults and looked at the forest moving past.
“Would you look at that!” shouted Father Ian.
A monstrous creature had stepped out of the trees and onto the shore. It was reptilian, and looked to be more than thirty feet long from its strange beak-like snout to the tip of its long thick, waving tail. It had a bulky body and though it walked on two stocky back legs, only sometimes using its lighter forelegs, it did so completely hunched over, using the long tail for balance. It was an olive color overall, but had yellowish vertical stripes down its back. No sooner had the creature presented itself than another and then another of the beasts stepped from the forest to walk along the beach. Soon an entire herd of nearly fifty of the monsters was tramping across the rocks and gravel. Most were as large as the original, but some were smaller and some were only half as big.
“What the devil are those?” asked Mr. Korlann
“They are a type of reptile common in Mallon,” said Professor Calliere. “They’re called dinosaurs.”
“They’re quite large,” said Miss Lusk.
“I’ve seen bigger,” said Lieutenant Dechantagne.
“There are hundreds of varieties,” continued Calliere. “They are related to dragons, in the same way that lemurs and monkeys are related to human beings.”
Both Father Ian and Zurfina made the same derisive sound.
I had several chapters planned in this book that for one reason or another were never written, or were given different names. Here are some of them.
Potion Calamity
I had a thought about Senta taking her potion and having some strange side-effect. Instead, she takes the one potion which doesn’t work and one which does. The one that doesn’t work has no effect at all.
The Dinner Party
Logistics made it so that I never got all the characters that I wanted together for a dinner party. Instead, they had a tea party, which became chapter 15.
Birthday
I was going to have the book last long enough to include Senta’s birthday, but it would have been stretching the timeline too long. So Senta’s birthday ended up just being a mention in the epilog.
No, I Mean Really Powerful Magic
This chapter became unnecessary when, as I wrote, Senta’s spells became more powerful than I had originally planned.
The Hunt
I decided to cut this chapter. Instead, the hunters had to turn back before the hunt.
Pack Hunters
This chapter just got a title change. It became The Day of the Daggers.
A Prosperous Colony
I cut this chapter which was originally planned to show the extent of Port Dechantagne. I felt I covered that enough in the earlier chapters.
Punishment Follows Swift
This was another title change. It became The Book.
Conflict in the Motor Shed
I had originally envisioned this to take up a whole chapter. Instead, it became the end of What Happened on the Third– only a small part of a chapter.
Chapter 1: Winter
Chapter 2: The Lizzie
Chapter 3: Marriage
Chapter 4: Private Eamon Shrubb
Chapter 5: Spells and Potions
Chapter 6: Yuah and Cissy
Chapter 7: Powerful Magic
Chapter 8: Saba the Spy
Chapter 9: The Ruin
Chapter 10: The Drache Girl
Chapter 11: The Book
Chapter 12: Iguanodon Heath
Chapter 13: What Happened on the Third
Chapter 14: The Day of Daggers
Chapter 15: The Tea Party and After
Airflivvers typically had an airspeed of nearly two hundred miles per hour, and this one seemed to be one of the fastest, so the flight to Oxford took just less than two hours. Along the way Andrews learned quite a bit about pilot Deb Gale, who was nothing if not communicative. She was twenty one, had moved to Atlanta from Ohio in order to get her piloting job, lived with two friends in a small apartment, and had a long distance friendship with a young man in the enclaves named Bud that she hoped would blossom into romance.
“I want to eventually get a job flying one of the big dirigibles, after I get enough airtime in. Right now, I’m just enjoying the adventure. You’ve got to have fun and adventure in your life while you’re young. That’s what I keep telling Bud. He’s twenty four and he’s still afraid to move up north. Pretty soon he’ll be too old for adventure and then what will he do.”
There was no airport in Oxford, at least not one capable of landing an airship. There was a small tarmac where four or five airflivvers parked next to a single Quonset hut. A single black and white police cruiser was waiting nearby. Once they had landed, Andrews climbed out of the passenger side. Deb secured the craft and then followed him. They were met by a single uniformed woman climbing out of the car. She was a stocky woman in her fifties, her hair shot with grey.
“Agent Andrews?”
“Sherriff Donnelly.” He reached out and shook hands.
“My goodness, I can’t believe it. An actual man right here in Oxford.”
“There are no other men in town?”
“Not for years now.”
“But you’ve known other men?”
“I’ve known a few,” she said, but didn’t elaborate.
“As I told you on the phone, I’m looking for Pearl Kerrigan.”
“I can drive you out to her place. She lives right outside of town. Nobody’s seen her in weeks though.”
“I’m coming too,” said Deb, as they piled into the police car.
“Alright,” said Andrews. “But stay out of the way.”
They drove through town. The once thriving main street had fallen to disrepair and beyond it was a town filled with old worn down houses with peeling paint and newer mobile homes set back from the street in lots overgrown with weeds and brush. Beyond the edge of town were a few small farms and then the ruins of abandoned farm houses. At last they pulled up in front of a turn of the century home. It was in better shape than some of the places they had seen, but it looked quiet now. The windows were all shuttered over and there seemed to be no sign of life.
Sheriff Donnelly got out of the car and walked up onto the front porch, peering into the front window before knocking on the door. Andrews got out and walked back along the long driveway toward the separated garage behind. He heard the sheriff knock several times and then call out but there was no answer. The garage had a door that slid from the side and it didn’t seem to be locked, so he pushed it far enough to create a two foot wide opening. He stared into the darkness inside.
“Aren’t you going to take out your gun?” asked a voice behind him.
“Get back to the car,” he told Deb, who had followed him around back.
“Not on your life. You have to get your adventure while you’re young.”
He pulled his coil gun from its holster and flipped it on. He thought briefly about threatening to shoot the pilot if she didn’t return to the car, but he didn’t think it would have any effect.
“Stay behind me.”
He pointed his weapon into the darkness and then followed it inside. Not expecting to be greeted by gunfire, he was never the less ready to return fire if necessary. Though there were no windows in the building, the light through the door gave quite a bit of illumination and his eyes quickly adjusted, allowing him to see even into the corners. There was nothing unusual. It was a garage. A workbench, dusty but uncluttered sat before a pegboard full of mechanic’s tools, a shelf of old paint stood in one corner, a lawn mower in the other. In the center of the floor, a car was covered by a tarp. Reaching up, he pulled it off to reveal a 1969 Studebaker Daytona ragtop.
“Doesn’t look like anybody’s been home for a while,” said the sheriff from the doorway. “Find anything?”
“No.”
“Just this door under the car,” said Deb.
Beneath the car was indeed a small wooden door about three feet square, with a rope handle. Opening the garage door, Andrews and Donnelly pushed the car out into the driveway, Deb pushed too, steering with one hand stuck through the driver’s side window. They were then able to open the door which led down cement steps to a storm cellar.
“Let me go down first,” said Donnelly, pulling her flashlight from her belt.
She descended the steps and once at the bottom flipped on a switch illuminating the room with electric light. Andrews followed her down and they found themselves in a normal example of the types of root cellars kept in the area. It was constructed of old used brick. Along the opposite wall was a shelving unit filled with jars of canned vegetables, a small cot sat against the wall to the right. Andrews turned around and looked at the wall behind them.
“That can’t be good.”
A small desk sat against the wall and spread across it were dozens of pictures cut from old magazines—all pictures of the Ladybugs, and a small jar of white paint, the brush still in it. Above the desk was a gun rack with spaces for two rifles, and both spaces were empty. On the wall above the desk but below the gun rack someone had used the white paint to carefully write out a long script message upon the red bricks. “The enemy said: ‘I will pursue, I will overtake, I will divide the spoil. My lust shall be satisfied upon them, I will draw my sword, my hand shall destroy them.”
“Is that from the bible?” asked Deb, now at the bottom of the stairs.
“Yes,” he replied. “It’s also from Bathsheba, the song from the Ladybugs’ spotted album.
Senta and the Steel Dragon Book 2: The Dark and Forbidding Land is now availabe at Smashwords.com as an ebook in a variety of formats. Use coupon coded SWS75 to get 75% off the $3.99 cover price through the end of July.
Getting up, he grabbed a white towel from a stack on a shelf nearby and pressed it to his face. It was quickly turning red. It was the only bit of color in the room of white and grey. Still holding the towel to his bleeding nose, he opened the supply closet door and peered out into the hall in both directions. There wasn’t a person in sight. He stepped out into the hallway and closed the door behind him. He moved quickly away from his hiding place. He had to take the towel away from his nose in order to climb a ladder up to the next deck. The blood began to drip quickly again as he climbed.
On the next deck, he pinched his nose with the towel to try and slow the blood flow, but winced in pain. He looked around for a moment and then realized where he had to go. He stepped quickly along forward, but had to stop after a moment and lean against the wall because he was feeling lightheaded. He took a few deep breaths and continued on. At last he came to the cabin door he needed, and knocked. The door popped wide open and the broad body, big stomach, and round rosy face of Father Ian appeared.
“Good to see you, Captain Dechantagne!” boomed Father Ian’s voice. “Don’t stand out in the hallway. Come in. Come in. Good gracious, what has happened to you?”
“I cut myself shaving,” said Terrence, pulling the towel away from his face. “I was hoping that you could help.”
“I should say you have!” Father Ian let out a long whistle. “Sit down. As a matter of fact, I have just the help you need right here. Sister Auni here is just the person to set you right again.”
In the corner of the room, unnoticed by Terrence until this moment was a very thin woman in the long white robes of a church acolyte. Her jet black hair was cut straight across her forehead, and hung down low in back. She had deep set grey eyes and prominent cheek bones. She stood up from her seat and was several inches taller than Terrence, though only about half as wide at the shoulder. When she spoke, it was in breathy tones.
“I’m very please to make your acquaintance, Captain Dechantagne. May I take a look at your nose please?”
She placed long thin hands on either side of his face and tilted his head upward so that she could look at his injury.
“Razor slice,” she said. “I would expect to see an injury like this in a tavern brawl.”
“Sorry. No taverns available,” said Terrence.
“In the name of the Holy Father I see your pain,” she said. “In the name of the Holy Savior I heal your wounds.”
Terrence felt life flowing from her hands. Not only did his nose stop stinging, but the pain in the back of his head and in his shoulders that he hadn’t even noticed before went away. The residual stinging in his eyes also went away. He was sure that any redness caused by the White Opthalium was gone now. Sister Auni pulled her hands away from his face and smiled.
“I knew I came to the right place,” Terrence said.
“Of course you did, my boy,” said Father Ian. “Perfect timing, too. The sister and I had just finished our prayer session. You are just in time to see her back to her cabin.
“You couldn’t be in any safer hands,” he said to Sister Auni.
“Oh indeed,” she said. “I know that already.”
Shrugging, Terrence offered his arm to the acolyte and led her out of the room.
“Good night to both of you!” Father Ian called out in his thundering voice, and then he closed the cabin door behind them.
Walking through the narrow halls of the ship, Terrence usually found it difficult to escort a lady and had to walk in a sort of shuffling sidestep to make room, and if the woman was wearing an evening gown, it was pretty much impossible to walk side by side in any case. This was not so with Sister Auni. Not only did her clerical robes flow straight from her shoulders to the floor, her entire form was scarcely as wide as his two hands splayed out side by side. Her shoulders seemed almost too narrow to hold up her normal sized head.
“Sister Auni!” A young woman Terrence didn’t know came running down the hall toward them. “Sister Auni! Mrs. Duplessis is having her baby, and the doctor wants you there as quickly as possible.”
“Lead the way, child,” said the acolyte.
The three of them made their way through a series of hatches and corridors until they came to a closed cabin door. A group of several women and girls were standing outside in the hallway. The door was quickly opened and the young woman who had fetched her, led Sister Auni inside. As she turned to close the door after her, she looked into Terrence’s face.
“Thank you, Captain Dechantagne,” she said in her breathy voice. “But I think I shall go on from here alone. Have a pleasant evening, and watch out when you are shaving.”
Terrence stood thinking for a moment. Then he gradually noticed that he was being watched from all sides by the six or seven females around him. He felt as though he had stumbled onto a stage without a script, or stepped into the middle of some savage ritual whose codex he didn’t understand.
“Ladies,” he said, and slowly backed out of the hallway, and then turned and made his way up to the topside of the ship and out onto deck.
Here is the first look at the revised cover for Senta and the Steel Dragon book 2: The Dark and Forbidding Land. The second draft went faster than expected, as I was able to devote more time recently. I am on the final edit, so the probable date for the ebooks is moved up to about July 20.
I also forgot about The Jungle Girl in my list of projects yesterday. I don’t know when I’ll get back to it, but I will. I have a deadline of March for the next Amazon Breakthrough Novel Contest.
City of Amathar 