Sumir is a continent that, though roughly the size of Africa, is never the less one of the smallest continents of the world of Senta and the Steel Dragon. It is the home of mankind. It is where the United Kingdom of Greater Brechalon, Freedonia, Mirsanna, and the other human countries can be found. From Sumir, humans have begun to reach out and colonize the rest of the world, including the continent of Mallon.
“I believe it to be a function of their reptilian nature,” replied the professor. “They can eat great amounts of meat at one time and then go without for perhaps weeks. I’m sure that this will be of benefit to us once they begin fulfilling their purpose as our natural servants.”
Zeah didn’t pay too much attention to the professor’s pronouncement—in truth, he seldom paid a great deal of attention to what Calliere said—but this time it was because of the presence of Egeria Lusk at Calliere’s side. She wore a teal brocaded dinner gown with large gold buttons from the neck to below the waist, and a straw boater with a teal ribbon around it.
“You look lovely Egeria,” Zeah thought he probably sounded as though he was gushing, but he didn’t care.
“Thank you, Zeah,” she said. “I must say you look ruggedly handsome.”
Zeah looked down at himself. He had been wearing the same type of khaki safari clothing that the soldiers wore. In fact, he had requested a set of the clothing from the mercenary company supplies when he found that he would be spending the day playing tour guide to an oversized lizard. He had to admit that the color accentuated his tall, thin form. And he thought the stone knife blade worn at his belt made him look manly. He took her hand and led her away from the crowd.
“I haven’t seen much of you the past two days,” he said.
“Don’t expect to see much of me the next few days either,” she said. “The Result Mechanism is being brought ashore tomorrow and the professor will need help getting it up and running. After that I need to input the measurements from the survey.”
After watching the look on his face for a moment, she burst out laughing. “You really are medicine for the ego! If you’re going to be all that broken up about not seeing me, you might as well come by and help me with the great machine.” She said the words “great machine” in an abnormally deep voice.
Zeah perked right up.
“I might just do that,” he said, guaranteeing himself in his own mind that he would.
The next morning, most of the colonists were amazed to find that the lizardmen had all left. Only the sentries had seen them rise early in the morning, gather together their meager gear and the collection of gifts of food and manufactured goods which the humans had given them, and exit through the gate in the wall. They took nothing which did not rightfully belong to them, and they left no word with anyone that they were leaving—anyone being Master Augie, who was the only one fluent in their language.
Zeah knew that Miss Dechantagne’s plans for the colony ultimately depended on the lizardmen. They would be needed extensively for manual labor. He also knew that Miss Dechantagne had negotiated well into the night with Chief Ssithtsutsu. He didn’t know what the outcome was. He had better things to do that listen to Master Augie’s back and forth translation. Better things being looking at and talking to Egeria. All the same, he was glad that the Lizzies were gone. They were so very… well, reptilian.
Zeah placed his khakis in the laundry and put on a grey suit. Without the lizardman at his side, it just didn’t seem right to be wearing jungle clothing, especially since they weren’t really in a jungle. Technically this was a rain forest, but the huge redwoods and spruce trees certainly did not constitute a jungle. Starting directly into his morning duties, as he always did, Zeah took his clipboard in hand and went to check on each of the individuals he was overseeing. The need of almost one thousand individuals for fresh food was great. A number of different plans for supplying those needs had been developed. Hunters were again being sent out to procure meat and if possible to capture more local animals for domestication. Another group of men and women would search once again for edible plants, this endeavor having proven fruitful (Zeah laughed to himself at the pun), and another group had been assigned the job of fishermen. They would do their fishing from the shore of the bay. Finally, with a mind to the long term, several areas around the hill where the barracks were located were tagged as locations for gardens, and forty colonists would prepare them for planting.
The story of “Princess of Amathar” takes place in the world of Ecos. Notice I said takes place “in”, not “on”, for Ecos is a Dyson Sphere. There is a lot of information on Dyson’s Spheres on the web and quite a bit relates to an episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation. I however set Princess of Amathar in a Dyson Sphere long before that episode was shown, having read about it in a role-playing magazine (for the Traveller RPG).
Ecos is a giant hollow ball, about 180 milliion miles in diameter, with its sun in the center. The people walk around on the inside of this great sphere. Though the Ecosian sun is slightly smaller than ours, you can’t tell because it is slightly closer to the surface of Ecos than ours is to Earth. This vast shell provides a surface area that is billions (with a B) of times larger than the surface area of any normal planet.
Ecos was created ages ago by a race of beings known as the Elder Gods. They also populated Ecos with dozens, perhaps hundreds of alien races, who then developed their own civilizations and societies. No one knows what happened to the Elder Gods, but the many races of Ecos continue to thrive.
The only two characters of any consequence besides Mike and Patience, to appear in “His Robot Girlfriend” are Mike’s two children– Harriet and Lucas. I initially patterned them after my own two kids, just as I had patterned Mike after myself. My son is in the Jr. ROTC, so I made Lucas a soldier. My daughter likes animals and Harriet has many animals. My daughter is older than my son, and Harriet is older than Mike. From this brief basis, I expanded the characters as I wrote, so in the end, they didn’t bear much similarity to the real people.
I just finished reading The Sorceress and her Lovers and I enjoyed it. This book was difficult for me to write. The original master outline for Senta and the Steel Dragon concluded with The Two Dragons, and originally, there was a long epilog that told what happened to all the characters for the rest of their lives. By the time I got The Two Dragons published, four years after writing it, I had decided to continue the series. So that epilog was pulled out and a new ending was written.
The Sorceress and her Lovers essentially sets up the next five books in the series. While there is a self-contained plot and quite a bit of action, you will see reading it, that there is even more to come.
What I really like about the book as a reader are the characters. There are many returning characters: Senta, Saba, Iolanthe, and Yuah, but they have very different situations than before. This is especially true of Senta, who was a kid in books 0-4 and now is grown up. There is also the character of Baxter, whose background appears in book 4, but now steps center stage.
If you have already read The Sorceress and her Lovers, there is a new edit available for download (there were only 3 typos). If not, check out The Sorceress and her Lovers at Smashwords by following this link.
Yesterday’s exceprt was from Chapter 8 of The Voyage of the Minotaur, entitled Terrence’s Jungle Adventure. Here is a little background about the chapter.
The book follows several people and rotates between their viewpoints. Terrence was not originally going to be one of those people. He was going to be a supporting cast member. However, I wrote seven chapters and I looked at my story so far and realized I really needed some action. Terrence was already plotted to be involved in some important action later in the story, but it was going to happen offscreen as it were. So I added this chapter, which was not in my original outline. This changed the whole focus of the rest of the story. Now that Terrence was one of my main characters, his relationship with other characters became more important, and when I did get to that big action climax, I was there.
Many times on our journey I pressed the knight to tell me about his city. On these occasions he would simply smile, and say that I would have to see it for myself. Of course my personal interests were constantly being drawn to the subject of his sister. I didn’t want to arouse Norar Remontar’s ire by accidentally disgracing her somehow, and truth be told, I was somewhat embarrassed by my single-minded desire to see this woman again. Of course being no fool, he saw through my efforts to artificially generalize the subject, but played along with me anyway. It seemed that in Amatharian society, both the men and the women were able to become knights and pursue careers in any field. The culture was a matrilineal one. The Amatharians passed on their family name from mother to daughter, but even more important than the family name, were the family crests, and these were passed from elder family members, to those children, grandchildren, and even nephews and nieces, who managed to achieve knighthood. Norar Remontar and a cousin had received their crests from an uncle who was a war hero. His sister inherited her crest from her grandfather.
We crossed planes and hills and valleys and an occasional mountain range, and must have been some thousands of miles from the sight of the airship battle when we reached the edge of an immense forest. It stretched to the left and right as far as the eye could see. Of course as with all things of this scale, when we came up close to the edge of the woodland, we found that it was not one great forest, but a vast area of connected forests with small glens and meadows scattered here and there. We plunged into this new terrain and continued on our way.
The first several hundred miles of the forest land was lightly wooded. There were a great many open areas and we found many fruits and vegetables along the way to supplement our hunting. As the miles went on by though, we left the lightly wooded areas behind us, and entered an increasingly dark and forbidding landscape. It was the kind of forest that one might find in an old black and white horror movie, or one of those fantasy novels with pointed-eared goblins peaking out from behind large oak trees. In this densely wooded country, hunting became more difficult, but because of the urgency of our quest, we could not take any more time than was absolutely necessary in any one location. So it was that when once more we had to make camp, for the first time, we sat looking at one another over an empty spot on the ground where our food might normally be found roasting on a spit above a small camp fire.
“This is most discouraging to me,” said Malagor. “It is not right for a Malagor to go without food.”
“At least we have water,” said Norar Remontar. “I am surprised that we have been able to stay as well fed as we have. Before this trip I had been hunting only three or four times with my uncle, and I mean no disrespect when I say that Alexander seems to be as unskilled as I am in this arena.”
“He has led a soft life,” explained Malagor. “I am guessing that even though you have done little hunting, your life has not been soft. You are a warrior.”
“You are mistaken my friend,” the Amatharian replied. “My life has not been a hard one. We in Amathar live well, and I as the son of a Kurar Ka have lived too well. I have never wanted. All my life I was provided for, was given everything that I desired, and was tutored by masters in every subject.
“When I reached manhood I set out to explore the distant lands of Ecos by signing on to my uncle’s trading group. As a warrior and then a swordsman, I was required to fight pirates and monsters, and I did so without fear. I proved myself in battle, at least my soul thought that I had. I went to the Garden of Souls and I found my soul. Then on my first mission as a knight, in my first confrontation with the enemy of my people, I lose my ship and my sister.”
“That wasn’t your fault,” I interjected quickly. “It was a tremendous battle and you fought bravely.”
“It was my duty to protect my sister,” said the knight. “She was conveying an important diplomatic mission for our grandfather. Beside, she is my sister.” He lay down and then rolled over so that his back was facing Malagor and myself.
Malagor looked at me, nodded, and lay down. There was a chill in the air, and the sky was becoming overcast, so much so that I almost imagined that the sun was going down. Of course it remained directly above, as always, but it did grow rather dark. I began to wish that we had built a fire, despite the fact that we had nothing to cook over it. I leaned back and prepared for my turn at watch. I was very tired though, and after a moments reflection, as I have just recounted, that the thick green canopy above, in combination with the storm clouds rolling in provided almost enough darkness to remind one of night time, I fell into a state of half sleep.
The first thing that aroused me from my slumber was a low growl coming from Malagor. I rolled over and looked at him. He was trussed up tightly in some kind of white netting, and he obviously didn’t like it. Suddenly I was knocked back onto my back by something large and black and hairy. I stared, horror-struck at a big black spider, fully fifty pounds, and with a body fully three feet across, sitting astride my chest. With the strength of my earth-born muscles combined with a great rush of adrenaline, I thrust the creature away from me. It was quite an impressive push, for it flew a about twenty feet and crashed with a splat into the bole of a large tree. I stood up, but before I could draw my sword or do anything else, I found myself being wrapped by strands of sticky white netting, and I looked to find a dozen more of the spiders encircling me and coating me with webbing silk. Scant seconds later I fell down onto my side, completely incased, with the exception of my head, in a silk cocoon.
My position on the ground put me face to face with Norar Remontar, and he looked at me and shook his head.
“You fell asleep.”
“Yes,” I replied.
“You were supposed to be on guard.”
“Yes.”
“Now you have killed us. These are Pell.”
“We’re not dead yet,” I offered.
“You will be soon.” A grotesque, high-pitched, squeaking voice said.
The Amatharians were, as Malagor had said, much like me, or for that matter much like any humans. They were human, and but for a few racial characteristics, they could have seemed at home anywhere on earth. Those racial characteristics however, were a bit unearthly. They were tall, ranging in the six foot to seven foot range. Their hair was universally straight and black. The men wore it cut straight across the forehead and straight at the back of the neck. The women wore theirs in a variety of lengths, though in each case it was straight and evenly cut, whether at the shoulders or across the middle of the back. Facial hair was not in evidence, and I was later to learn is completely unknown among them. Their skin was blue in color, with a wide variation of shades. Some were as dark as the inside of a Teflon frying pan, while others were almost a baby blue. The clothing they wore was an interesting contradiction of utilitarianism and style. They wore a black body suit from their necks to their ankles, which was tighter, and of thinner material than the spandex biking pants that had been popular shortly before I left my home planet. Through the material, every muscle was visible as it strained to heft the swords which almost every Amatharian used in his defense. Over their body suit the knights of Amathar wore a tabard– nothing more than a long strip of cloth eighteen inches wide, with a hole so that it fit over the head. It reached down to below the knees in front and in back, but was completely open on the sides. On both the front and back panels was emblazoned a great symbol, that was the coat of arms for that knight, and which was different from one to the other.
I waded into the closest skirmish where four Amatharians, two men and two women, were holding off a score of the Zoasians. One humanoid had drawn his sword and was cutting up the nearest foe. The others used their light rifles. The snake-men were using rifle and pistol versions of their ugly death ray. They didn’t carry swords, apparently being too slow to use them effectively. With a great leap of my earthly power, I closed the gap between myself and the nearest Zoasian. I swung my sword but it was deflected by the beings body-armor, a feature I heretofore hadn’t noticed. It covered his body from neck to tail, and appeared to be made of some type of synthetic plasticized leather material. It was studded with horns and crests of bright metal, but was otherwise as black as the snake-man himself.
The Zoasian was evidently not hurt by my blow, the armor having absorbed the shock, but he was surprised. He opened his mouth wide and hissed at me with a great forked tongue. Then he brought forth his powerful hand with the ray-weapon in its grasp. I was too quick for him though, and with a mighty sweep of my sword arm, I removed his hand between the wrist and the elbow. He didn’t cry out, but reeled backwards in pain. I should have finished him off quickly, but I didn’t. Something instead caught my eye.
Just over the shoulder of my opponent, I spied one of the Amatharians fighting against great odds. It was one of the females. She was breathtakingly beautiful. Her straight black hair was slightly longer than the other women that I had observed. Her skin was flawless and of a deep metallic blue color, like the steel beams of a building under construction. She was about six foot two and powerfully built, though not by any means unfeminine. Her black body-suit covered her from the top of her neck to the top of her shining black boots. Her white tabard was surrounded by gold braid and was emblazoned with the most beautiful crest– two crossed swords over a flaming sun– and the back of it trailed behind her in the wind like the cape of some fantastic comic book heroine. She had abandoned her light weapon and was using her sword, carving up several Zoasians at once like a butcher with a row of fresh steaks. With each stroke the sword blade seemed to glow with the pride and the glory of battle. I had decided to rush to the aid of this beautiful vision, when out of the corner of my eye I saw a looming form. It was the Zoasian with whom I had been previously engaged. Before I could turn toward him he slammed his remaining fist into the side of my head. I was tossed twenty feet by the force of the blow. I fell to the ground and everything went black.
I opened my eyes to look into the face of my friend Malagor. He opened his mouth and snarled at me.
“You are not smart,” he growled. “I teach you all that I know, and still you know nothing.”
I pulled myself to my feet and looked around. Nearby was the Zoasian who had hit me, easily recognizable by his missing hand. Malagor had shot him with his light rifle before the reptile had the chance to finish me off. That I had been out for a while was evidenced by the fact that there no longer remained any living warriors of either race within a good hundred yards or so. Bodies, both human and reptilian though, were strewn everywhere. In the distance I could see the Zoasian armies being hauled by cable up onto the deck of their disabled battle-cruiser. Suddenly remembering the woman that I had seen just before being knocked senseless, I began examining all of the Amatharian bodies nearby. I could find none that matched the vision that I had previously beheld. I turned to ask Malagor if he had seen what had become of her, but something beyond him caught my eye. Malagor turned to see what I was looking at, and we both became witnesses to a fantastic scene.
Standing in the blood of friend and enemy alike, was a single Amatharian knight. He was exceptionally tall and muscular– the perfect specimen of the timeless warrior. He held high above his head that weapon that so epitomizes the Amatharian– his sword. It was almost as highly crafted and ornate as the ancient swords that I had found, but it had something that mine did not. The blade of the weapon glowed. It more than glowed. It was actually lit up like a fluorescent light bulb. This was all the more fascinating for the fact that the metal of the blade seemed to be the same type as the unknown, but mundane metal, of which I found my own new blades to be composed.
He held his sword as if waiting for an enemy, and indeed he was. Bearing down upon him from the sky, at a speed equaling any terrestrial fighter jet, was one of the Zoasian fighter aircraft. It swooped down lower and lower, until it became apparent that the pilot was planning to fly right into the man on the ground, and splatter him on the front of the plane like a bug on the front of a Buick. It covered a mile in less than a second as it headed toward its intended target, yet the warrior on the ground did not turn or run away. It was the most heroically stupid and futile thing that I had ever witnessed, and it my heart filled with admiration for brave man. Then when the jet was no more than fifty feet from him, the knight dropped to one knee, still holding the sword high above him. The fighter continued on into the sword, but the sword was not ripped away from the man’s hand, and it was not destroyed by the force of impact. Instead the sword sliced through the aircraft, through metal, plastic, fuel tanks, and pilot. The craft blew apart and a huge fireball replaced it on the battlefield. Both Malagor and I dropped to the ground to avoid flying debris. Moments later I was back on my feet, looking for the remains of the brave Amatharian.
To my surprise I saw him rise to his feet, burned but not gravely injured. He looked at the remains of his dead foe, and raising his face to the eternal Ecosian sun, he cried out in victory and challenge.
This month marks a big milestone for me– my 15,000th book sold. That’s 15,000 books paid for. That’s not a huge number for some authors. In fact, a best-seller might achieve that many sales in a week or a day, but it’s big for me. In a time when entertainment dollars are pulled in all different directions, as readers/viewers have music, movies, TV, and games to choose from in addition to books, having people willing to spend their money on your work says a great deal. For those of you who have purchased one or more of my books, thank you.
Fifteen thousand books sold is a great number. On the other hand, my free books count for many times that number, His Robot Girlfriend is coming up on 450,000 downloads. I’m very proud of this number too. His Robot Girlfriend has done so much for me and brought me to the attention of so many; it’s very lucky that I wrote and published it when I did. Looking back, I couldn’t have made a better choice than to get it out there as a free book. For those of you who read it, thank you too.
One of the great things about writing a science-fiction story, is creating new and interesting cultures and societies. In Princess of Amathar, I created the Amatharians. They are an advanced human culture. I wanted them to seem human enough to identify with, but to be alien enough to make them interesting. First I took all the things that I thought, when I was a kid, we would have on Earth by the time I was an adult, and gave them to the Amatharians. Moving sidewalks. Flying battleships. Laser guns. Monorails. I also gave them swords, because I knew I was writing a sword-swinging homage to Edgar Rice Burroughs. Finally I gave them all the quirks that I myself have. I hate talking on the phone, so the Amatharians have no phones. I like to write, so every Amatharian writes letters every day, and most have written books. I’m not a cat or dog person, so the Amatharians don’t have pets. I have no money, so the Amatharians don’t use money. In the end, creating the culture of this alien people was one of the most enjoyable parts about writing the book.
Follow this link to purchase Princess of Amathar from iBooks – Just $1.99.
City of Amathar 