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Category Archives: Eaglethorpe Buxton
Eaglethorpe Buxton and the Elven Princess – Free for nook
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The Many Adventures of Eaglethorpe Buxton – Available at Kobo Books
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The Many Adventures of Eaglethorpe Buxton – Ebook at Apple Books
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New Paperbacks – New Paperback Prices
I’ve recently been informed that paperback pricing will change by June 20th, 2023. I have removed the prices on the book pages of this site. If you follow the links, you will see the latest pricing on the retailers’ websites. As soon as things settle, I will put the new prices here on this site.
On a related note, I am in the process of revision/edit/review of all my current books. The first was HIs Robot Girlfriend and is complete. In addition to making the best ebook edition possible, I will make sure that there is a paperback edition for each book. Those books that are free will not have paperback editions. People aren’t purchasing a paperback when they can get a free download, so it makes sense to put the effort elsewhere.
As each book is update and out in paperback, it will be announce here. Thanks, and thanks for your support.
Eaglethorpe Buxton and the Elven Princess
Chapter Fifteen: Wherein we take the road less traveled.
The following morning found both Jholeira and me awake and refreshed. So we made an early start. It was not as early as Ellwood Cyrene who had left at the crack of dawn. However when I went down to the common room that morning, not only did I find that my friend had paid for breakfast for my elf girl and myself, but he had left a package for me as well. Wrapped in a large oiled cloth were several pounds of dried beef, a wheel of yellow cheese, two or three pounds of raisins and a small cloth sack with a half dozen coins in it.
Ellwood Cyrene never seemed to be in need of money, despite the fact that he seldom took payment for his many acts of manly heroism. I have seen a bucket of gold coins gathered together by a town to pay the hero that saved them from the threat of a raging monster, only to have it politely refused by a smiling Ellwood Cyrene. I have seen him pass out coppers to every orphan in a six block radius of the inn in which he was staying. To be fair I have seen him plunder more than one baggage train, and on numerous occasions he has rifled through the pockets of a man he has just stabbed– but who hasn’t done that, when you get right down to it.
I was not able to procure any oats for my poor steed, which is to say Hysteria, but I did get a small bundle of dried hay to supplement the small amount of forage we were likely to find in that country in winter.
We set off on the East Road, but following the advice I had been given, we soon turned off to the north, following a cattle path that wandered over the hills and down into the valley. Our new path veered off from our previous course, but not enough that I thought we would lose our way. In fact at tea time, we stopped among a small copse of trees at the top of a hill. From this point we were able to look down to the south across a vast valley. True to Ellwood’s warning, a great battle was being fought. It was impossible to tell who the two sides were, as their banners at this distance were too difficult to read. All that was certain was that both sides were humans. I took some small pains to make sure that we weren’t spotted, but considering the distance and the chaos on the battlefield, I judged that there was little chance of it.
After journeying the remainder of the day, we made camp just off the path in a little hollow which had been formed by three massive boulders piled one atop of the other two. I can only imagine that some giant piled them up thus as there was no nearby mountain down which they might have slid to come to rest in such a fortuitous configuration, which is to say a pretty good shape.
“We should reach the edge of Elven Wood tomorrow,” I told my companion.
“Really? I don’t seem to recognize any landmarks.”
“Maybe when we get closer,” I offered. “How long since you’ve been home?”
“Six or seven years I would suppose.”
“That must be tough, being without your family for so long.”
“Yes.” She sighed. “And what about you? You’ve been without your family for quite a while now too.”
“What?”
“How long has it been?”
“How long has what been?”
“How long has it been since your family disappeared?”
“Oh. That. I really can’t say.”
“You know, I’ve been thinking.” Jholeira stood up and began to pace back and forth beside the campfire. “The purple drops on the floor, as I’ve already said, could be from the blueberry pie you were expecting.”
“Fiends!” said I.
“As far as Gervil’s knife being stuck in his bed is concerned, that could be an indicator of foul play or of nothing at all.”
“I see.”
“The floorboards being pried up however tells us something. Whoever the culprit or culprits were, they were looking for something hidden under the floor. Money maybe? Family jewels?”
“The unpublished manuscripts of the world famous Eaglethorpe Buxton,” I offered.
“I suppose that is conceivable,” said she. “What I don’t understand is the onions in the rafters. The only thing I can think of is that they were trying to ward off vampires.”
“Monsters!” said I. “But wait. Isn’t that supposed to be garlic?”
“Maybe they couldn’t find any. Or maybe they didn’t know the difference. Garlic looks a lot like an onion.”
“Oh, my family would know the difference,” said I. “My poor old father was a fine onion farmer. In fact one variety, the Winter Margram onion was named for him. My cousin Gervil wrote an epic poem about onions, though I was never able to memorize more than the first five hundred twelve lines.”
“Is that all?” she wondered.
“Tuki was Onion Queen three years running.”
“So it is possible that your family would have had onions around? Say, hanging from the rafters?”
“Only at harvest time.”
“Was it harvest time?”
“Was what harvest time?”
“Was it harvest time when your family disappeared?”
“It could have been.”
“So there really are no clues at all,” postulated the half-orphan.
“What about the tracks?” I asked. “What about the tracks that ended mysteriously after only fifty feet?”
“You said it was a stormy night. The rain probably washed the tracks away.”
“You’re right,” said I. “The next time it will be morning.”
“What do you mean next time?”
“Um, nothing.”
“You mean the next time your family gets kidnapped or the next time you tell this?”
“Well…”
“Your family never was stolen at all!” She stood up with back straight and finger pointed accusingly. She looked quite intimidating. “You lied!”
“It’s wasn’t a lie,” I explained. “It was a story. Well, it was a first draft.”
Eaglethorpe Buxton and the Sorceress
Chapter Fourteen: Wherein I divulge my plan to reunite the lovers.
I led the beautiful Megara Fennec, which is to say Megara Capillarie from the home of some unknown person, who was no doubt a chubby little red-head with a checkered apron and a brown bonnet, and out into the town square of Potter Town, where the shadows were growing long, which is to say it was getting late. My valiant steed Hysteria still waited patiently at the well. As we walked, I explained my plan.
“The plan is thus,” said I. “I will fetch from the apothecary a dram of a potion that is known as living death. You will go home and make peace with your parents and then take this potion. It will make you fall into a coma, a semblance of death itself. From you there will be no evidence that you still live: no breath, no heartbeat, and no body warmth. Your family will think that you are dead and place your body in the family crypt. In the meantime, I will send a message to your beloved in Oordport, telling him the entire plan and he will rush to your side, to reach you just as you return to life, having experienced nothing more than a pleasant sleep.”
We reached Hysteria’s side and I turned to smile at my lovely companion, but she was frowning.
“What’s the matter?” I asked.
“Your plan seems fraught with unnecessary problems,” she replied.
“How so?”
“If the apothecaries of the area are wont to sell drams of ‘living death’, won’t someone suggest that perhaps I have been given ‘living death’ when I appear to die of unknown causes.”
“Living death is pretty secret,” said I.
“How secret?”
“Really secret.”
“But not so secret that just anyone can purchase it from an apothecary?”
“No, not so secret as that.”
“What if, when I die, they decide to burn my body instead of placing it in the family crypt?”
“Why would they do that?”
“To save space.”
“You are a member of the family, are you not?”
“Yes, but I’m just a girl, and I’m young. I haven’t had a chance to do anything grand or impressive that would warrant entombing me in a place of honor. Our family has had that crypt for at least a dozen generations and there have been a lot of us. It’s getting pretty full.”
“But you are Lord Capillaries’ only daughter.”
“I am the only child of his current wife, true. But my mother is his fourth wife and I am his sixteenth daughter.”
“I see.”
“Now that I think about it,” she continued. “I don’t think that I would want to wake up in that crypt anyway. It’s got to be pretty rank in there, and there is always the possibility of zombie attacks.”
“Yes, I forgot about zombies.”
“The only people who can afford to forget about zombies are those people with no brains.”
“That is true,” I agreed. “I suppose we could plan to have your body sequestered somewhere else.”
“And here’s another thing,” she said. “What if your message doesn’t get to my beloved in time? Suppose he hears about me dying before he finds out about your plan. He might do something rash—like hurt himself.”
“He wouldn’t do that would he?”
“He might. He’s very passionate.”
“He’s passionate enough to kill himself?”
“Oh yes. He thinks about it all the time.”
“So what do you propose?” I asked.
“Why don’t we climb on your horse and you just give me a ride to Oordport, where I can meet beautiful, sweet Henri and live together with him there.”
“Well, it is not nearly so poetical a plan as mine,” said I. “But I will do it.”
Eaglethorpe Buxton and the Sorceress
Chapter Thirteen: Wherein I hear the story of two star-crossed lovers.
I stood looking at the young woman, whom might well be the most beautiful creature that I had ever seen. She struck a pose and tossed her thick locks of dark brown hair back over her shoulder.
“You are so beautiful,” I said. “Why would you want to go into such a disreputable business as acting? You could do anything you wanted.”
“It’s not what I want; It’s all that I have left,” she replied. “You see, my family the Capillaries…”
“I thought you said your name was Fennec.”
“That’s my stage name,” she explained. “My real name is Megara Capillarie. And my family and other family, the Montenegroes, have been involved in a feud for dozens of generations.”
“Is it the kind of feud in which you fight the other family, or the kind in which you challenge them to some type of word game?”
“It is the kind in which you fight and kill the other family.”
“Hmm,” said I. “Those types of feuds can be bad, especially if you are the one being fought and killed.”
“But there’s more. I met a lovely young man and fell in love with him, only to find out later that he was none other than Henri Montenegro, the son of my family’s great enemy. We met and exchanged fair words and fair kisses. But then yesterday there was a fight in the street and Henri, beautiful, sweet Henri killed my cousin.”
“So you don’t love him anymore? You hate him now.”
“Of course I don’t hate him! I love him! But we can never be together. He has been banished to Oordport, and I shall never see him again.”
“It so happens that I already have all the actresses that I need to portray the characters in my play,” said I.
“You are one short,” Megara said, tossing her hair back. “Two days ago, the Sorceress Myolaena Maetar arrived at the theater just after the performance and turned your lead actress Angelletta Seedling into a tree.”
“Oh bother,” said I. “I suppose though, that with a name like Seedling you have to expect that sort of thing. I guess I will have to find someone who can change her back.”
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible. You see the locals are in constant need of firewood, and well…”
“They didn’t.”
“I’m afraid so,” she said.
“I find myself in need of an actress then,” said I. “But I could not claim the names of Buxton and of Eaglethorpe, which is to say Eaglethorpe Buxton if I were to take advantage of your unfortunate predicament, which is to say your situation, for my own gain. Before you settle for the life of the stage we must see if we cannot reunite you with your lost love.”
“You would do that for me?”
“Of course,” I replied. “I am Eaglethorpe Buxton, friend to the friendless, protector to the defenseless, finder of lost children and reuniter of lost lovers. And I have a plan.”
City of Amathar 