The Voyage of the Minotaur – Chapter 11 Excerpt

Voyage of the Minotaur (New Cover)Tea with Miss Lusk presented a welcomed change for Zeah. Each day seemed to be just like the day before it. Almost all of his time was spent organizing activities for the passengers, which would provide the necessities of life or a change of pace to prevent boredom or depression caused by long confinement on the ship. The first two days after their departure from the island of Enclep, he had been occupied seeing to the inventorying and storage of the supplies purchased there. The following day, he had to arrange for the priests onboard and Dr. Kelloran to deal with a fungus infection that had broken out on various parts of the bodies of a great many passengers and crew. The day after that had been washing day, which always kept him busy. It had ended with the death of Miss Kilmurray and the summary execution of Mr. Murty by Master Terrence. Zeah would have liked to have seen Murty tried for his crimes, but he was as loud in his laudation for Master Terrence as anyone who else on the ship. His daughter could have easily have been Murty’s next target, or Miss Lusk. The following day, Zeah had organized a memorial service for Miss Kilmurray. Two days after that, when Lieutenant Staff had completed his investigation, Murty’s body, which had been kept on ice, was dumped unceremoniously over the side.
It was surprising to Zeah, who had expected that there would be a somber mood among the passengers following the memorial, but the atmosphere on the Minotaur actually seemed to lighten. There had been a cloud hanging over the lives of everyone onboard since the murder of Miss Astley, though most had not realized at the time that the murder was one of a series. Now with the murderer dead, people were much freer with their smiles, their attitudes, and their actions. Zeah had originally planned a series of games and activities to slowly raise people’s spirits, but had changed his plans and instead scheduled a dance. It took place the evening of Pentuary ninth, ten days after leaving Enclep.
The danced proved to be a great success and everyone who was there seemed to have a wonderful time. Miss Dechantagne surprised everyone by attending. She wore a beautiful royal blue evening gown with large balloon sleeves and a white satin belt with embroidered blue and silver silk flowers. She had a bouquet of fresh flowers at her waist and atop her curled auburn hair. And the bare expanse of her shoulders and the choker of pearls she wore made her long, thin neck look even more so.
Everyone admired Miss Dechantagne’s beauty, but Zeah found Miss Lusk’s charms even richer. She had arrived in a buttercup yellow gown with butterfly sleeves. The skirt had little pleated waves of fabric falling straight on the sides, and was trimmed with vines of embroidery in gold and beads extending down each side of the front. It was ornamented on one side with a velvet panel, and on the other with two large velvet bows.
Zeah had not yet spoken to either of the two women, when Master Augie arrived with Dr. Kelloran. Lieutenant Dechantagne was dressed in a fine cutaway coat which exposed a red vest embroidered with a dragon motif. He had a new grey felt derby, which he must have purchased just before leaving Brech, with a red carnation in the band. Dr. Kelloran’s Thiss-green silk gown might not have stood out as much as those of yellow or royal blue, but it was equally fine in an understated way. Decorated with beads of jade and tiger-eye, it was wonderfully offset by her long white suede gloves.
Every passenger attending, especially the women, came in their finest clothes. It seemed less like a simple dance staged rather quickly aboard a crowded naval ship than the social event of the season. More than a few officers and sailors attended as well, and all of them wore their dress-whites. Notably absent was Lieutenant Staff, who was on duty that evening. Master Terrence was not in attendance either. Zeah thought that this was a shame, as seventy four unmarried women, and more than a few who were married, all seemed to be looking for him.
The two most talked about entrances were the wizard Suvir Kesi and Sorceress Zurfina, whom Zeah thought must have been meeting for the first time. Kesi wore traditional Mirsannan garb—a long brown robe, lined all along the open edge with ferret skins, and reaching to short, black boots. Beneath the open robe, he wore blue silk pantaloons and a yellow and red striped silk shirt. His ever present yellow fez with blue tassel made him visible from anywhere at the dance. Zurfina wore, or Zeah would have said ‘almost wore’, a black dress that was cut much like the togas worn by the ancient coastal cultures. It was loosely draped across her front, continuing to cover her breasts only through the use of magic or perhaps some kind of glue. Between her breasts, it fell to her naval and there were no sides at all above the waist. Below her waist, the dress went all the way to the floor, but there was a slit cut up one side that reached to her mid-thigh. It was the type of garment to be worn only by someone who had no care what other people thought. Zeah noticed that while many scandalized looks were aimed in the direction of the sorceress, almost no one at the dance mentioned her dress, or lack there-of. The story of her having turned a dressing maid to stone had lost nothing in the telling.
As it turned out, there was no need for Zurfina the Magnificent to be the subject of conversation. There was much to talk of. Earlier in the day, many aboard had watched a small fleet of seven ships, Enclepian Junks, sailing west toward the land that the Minotaur had so recently left. They were probably on their way back from the Mullien Islands to the feudal lands in southern Enclep, with holds full of spices and strange trade goods. Zeah was rather peeved because he had been busy at the time and had not been able to reach the deck before the square-rigged, double-ruddered, wooden sailing vessels had passed out of sight. He always seemed to miss the great sights. He had missed both the Freedonian dirigible and the school of giant whales which many passengers had noted before they had reached Enclep’s port. Despite not being able to participate in the gossip about the many strange things that had been observed from the deck of the Brech battleship, Zeah thoroughly enjoyed the dance. He danced the night away in the presence of Miss Lusk, missing only one piece, when for some unknown reason Zurfina had insisted upon his accompaniment on the dance floor.
“Mr. Korlann, you seem distracted,” said Zurfina, in her deep, sultry voice.
“I am always distracted,” said Zeah. He was in fact, trying very hard not to stare at the vast expanse of skin which the sorceress had left uncovered. Though the two star tattoos above her breasts, which were often seen by many, were now covered, a new one around her naval was now clearly visible.
“You aren’t afraid of me, are you Mr. Korlann?”

Princess of Amathar – Chapter 12 Excerpt

Princess of AmatharThe transport dropped lower as Bentar Hissendar guided in to a landing at a large installation just within the wall of the city. On a large tarmac, surrounded by several buildings, sat a dozen transports just like the one in which we were flying. When our craft came to a stop on the ground, a crew of Amatharian men and women ran out onto the field to service the vehicle. They were wearing bodysuits very much like those the knights wore, though these were light blue rather than black, and they were worn without the tabard over them. Bentar Hissendar turned and spoke to one of them.

“Send word to the Kurar Ka, that we have returned with his grandson,” he turned to Norar Remontar. “It is best to send word before you go showing up at the door of your home. Give everyone a chance to realize you are alive.”

Norar Remontar replied, but I was too busy looking around to pay much attention to their conversation. The wall over which we had passed to come to this airfield was about two hundred feet tall, and was constructed or at least covered by a copper-colored metal. It looked to be thick enough for a truck to drive over. If fact, as I stared at it, some sort of vehicle running slowly along the top of the wall, passed by. The way it sat on the top, hugging the sides, reminded me of the monorail at Disneyland, though this vehicle was a single unit rather than a train, and had no windows, so therefore did not appear to be a passenger craft.

“That is the automated sentry,” said Norar Remontar, breaking into my observations. “Come, you have much to see.”

Malagor and I joined the returned son of Amathar, as he walked across the tarmac to one of the buildings at its edge. Inside, we were greeted by more Amatharians wearing bodysuits in a variety of colors. I asked Norar Remontar about the difference in clothing, and he informed me that different occupations within the city had traditional colors associated with them. Among those colors were black for soldier, light blue for mechanic, white for food preparers or servers, grey for doctors, and red for record keepers. The tabard was essentially an Amatharian uniform, worn by none but soldiers.

I was still thinking about this system of color coding, when the familiar black suit with white tabard appeared before me. A young woman, dressed in that very garb, stood with arms folded beside a desk just inside the terminal building. Her tabard bore the same crest that Norar Remontar’s did– a flaming sun with wings. When I looked up into her beautiful flawless face, for a moment I was in shock. She was my princess, rather I mean, she was Norar Remontar’s sister. But the impression lasted only a moment. This young woman had much shorter hair, a slightly smaller nose, darker skin, and larger, rounder eyes, that made her look much less serious. Admittedly the only time I had seen the Princess was during the height of battle. When the female knight saw Norar Remontar, she smiled broadly and reached out to grasp his hand.

“Word of your return precedes you, kinsman, though not by much,” she said, in a melodic but surprisingly strong voice. “I have just heard the good news, and here you are.”

“You are as beautiful as ever, Vena Remontar,” replied my friend. He then turned to Malagor and me.

“This is Remiant Vena Remontar, my cousin.” He used the word for mother’s sister’s daughter.

“I am soon to be related to you in other ways as well,” the young woman said. “I have agreed to let Tular Maximinos announced our intention to marry.”

Gods Behaving Badly

Below is my book review from 2009 of Gods Behaving Badly.  In 2011-2013, they made a big-star movie of this book, that has yet to be released.  They probably messed up the story pretty horribly, or why isn’t it out?

I just finished reading “Gods Behaving Badly” by Marie Phillips. Of course I read it on my Sony PRS-505 eBook Reader, and it is available in a variety of eBook formats, just in time for Read an eBook week. Simply put, this was the best book I have read in a long time. It was funny, sad, surprising, sad again, and then funny again.

Imagine the Greek Olympians were still around today, power diminished, living in London. Though they still do their jobs– Apollo still sees that the sun comes up and goes down, Ares still manages war, and Hermes still delivers the dead to Charon the boatman as well as over-seeing the world’s money– they have little extra power and have to work for their money. Aphrodite has a job as a phone sex operator, Artemis walks dogs, and Apollo has an idea for a television show in which he plays a psychic.

The book is well-researched and the gods are perfectly portrayed. The two main human characters in the story are very real and their relationship is very touching. Most of all, the book is extremely well-written. It is very witty, well-plotted, and the language use is wonderful.

I highly recommend this book to anyone. If you have a love of mythology or fantasy you will really appreciate it.

Princess of Amathar – Chapter 11 Excerpt

Princess of AmatharMalagor, Norar Remontar, and I stepped out of the elevator and into a room lit just like the one from which we had left. This room had no geometric video controller in it however, and it was triangular in shape, with the elevator opening in the middle of one of three equal sides, and an open doorway on the wall to our left.

“This is peculiar,” said Norar Remontar.

I nodded my head at the understatement. “I would be willing to bet that this elevator, these rooms, the lighting, and the controls for the video images, are all artifacts of the Elder Gods, or whomever it was that created Ecos.

“I am inclined to agree,” said Norar Remontar.

We looked around this new room for several moments, but found nothing of interest. Finally Malagor voiced the opinion that we really had no other alternative but to head down the hallway and see where it led us. I was toying with the idea of suggesting that we try our luck one more time in the mysterious elevator, but I decided that Malagor was probably right. It was time to continue on our way. That is just what we did.

The dark hallway beckoned us like a gaping maw, but I tried not to think of it that way. It really doesn’t take too long to adjust to continual daylight. I think it would be much harder to adjust to continual darkness. Norar Remontar turned on his small flashlight; I unsheathed my sword, and the three of us with a quiet look between us, started down the long hallway. This time the hallway continued straight for what must have been five miles before opening into any type of room what so ever. At last it did, and as soon as we stepped into the room, I knew we were in for trouble.

A sudden wave of stench assaulted my nostrils. It was the smell of several dozen bodies which had not seen a bath in a long time, mixed with the smell of bodily waste accumulated over a period of several generations. I wasn’t the only one to smell it. Malagor immediately began coughing and gagging, to the extent that I feared he would pass out. A look of disgust crossed Norar Remontar’s face, but otherwise he remained characteristically stoic.

Malagor had just regained his own composure, when a horde of creatures burst screaming toward us from the dark. There were a score or more of the short, bipedal, four armed rat-like creatures, and they attacked using stone axes and razor sharp teeth. Screaming like banshees, the Kartags literally fell upon us.

I skewered the first creature to reach me on the end of my sword, turned, and threw my shoulder into the next one, sending it flying backwards into its fellows. At that moment the entire room was lit up by the incredible brightness of the Amatharian sword unsheathed. It sizzled and sparked as Norar Remontar used it to cut through the bodies of three of the Kartags. At almost the same moment, Malagor let loose with a burst of light rifle fire which cut a nice round smoking hole in the chest of another rat. This display of destruction was all that was necessary to convince most of the beasts to retreat. I quickly lopped off the head of one who apparently was having difficulty making that decision.

Princess of Amathar – Chapter 9 Excerpt

Princess of AmatharI swam back outside and reported the mystery to Malagor. He did not seem pleased. We left the meat cooking, and wrapped up a burning ember, some kindling and a couple of large sticks in a piece of fur, and swam back into the hidden room. Once inside, we climbed out of the water and onto the dry ground. The room was lit only by a dim glow from the watery passage. Malagor and I started a small fire in the hidden chamber. I had my doubts about doing so, since there was a limited amount of oxygen in the room, and I had no great desire to die of asphyxiation. However once we had the little fire burning, we noticed a small flicker of flame leaping in the direction of the wall. From there it was only a small step to the realization that there was a secret door in the wall right by where we had chosen to build the fire. Even with this knowledge at our command, it took some time for us to figure out how to open the portal. In the end, Malagor and I had to press on the wall in two different places to force a perfectly disguised panel to slide back, revealing a darkened passage. I wondered that Norar Remontar had been able to do it by himself.

Malagor and I each took a burning stick form the fire, and entered the secret passage. It bears mentioning that you can’t make a really effective torch with nothing but a stick. Having watched several hundred adventure movies in my formative years, I have seen many matinee heroes create torches with nothing but a flaming stick. In reality, it just doesn’t work. One needs some oily rags or something. The two burning sticks that my friend and I carried offered little more light than one might expect from a small candle, and after what must have been only several minutes, mine went out completely. Malagor was able to nurse his flaming stick in a way that it stayed alive at least enough for us to see the ground where we were walking.

The passage in which we found ourselves was a rough-cut cave like hallway that could have been natural except for the relatively smooth and level floor. It took us straight back into the mountain. Our footsteps made loud clomping sounds that echoed all out of proportion to the way we were carefully treading. After we had gone several hundred feet, we noticed that the walls, ceiling, and floor became more and more smooth and uniform. After another four or five hundred feet, we stopped to examine the walls again, which by this point had become completely smooth, with nice square corners where they met the floor or the ceiling. At that moment Malagor’s fire went out too.

“What do we do now?” Malagor asked.

“Let’s just wait a moment and see if our eyes adjust to the darkness,” I replied.

I said this just to have something to say, because as anyone who has ever done any cave exploring can tell you, your eyes do not adjust to complete darkness. The complete absence of light precludes any vision what so ever. Nevertheless, when we had waited for a little while, Malagor and I were both able to discern the shape of the passage ahead. There was a faint and indistinct light coming from far away down the corridor. We continued on our way.

As the two of us walked along, Malagor had tended to follow the left side of the corridor and I the right. It wasn’t long before we realized that we had moved farther and farther apart, and that the hallway was gradually widening. About the same time that we made this discovery, the surface of the wall changed abruptly from the smooth stone we had grown used to, to a bumpy soft material. It must have had a great acoustical quality, for I could no longer hear our footsteps. I was just thinking that the hallway had widened form its original five feet or so to well over twenty, when the hallway ended by opening into a huge room.

The size of this room was impossible to measure from our present vantage point. It seemed to be endless in any direction, and we could not judge the height of the ceiling either. I was standing there thinking about what to do next, when Malagor tugged at my sleeve. I asked him what the matter was, and in answer, he grabbed my head with his hands and turned it to my right. In the distance I could see a light. It was like a swinging lantern in the distance that blinked on and off occasional.

“I have an idea what that is,” I said. “Let’s go.”

Even though Malagor and I were both inclined to move quickly toward the source of the distant light, we didn’t move as quickly as we might have. The pervasive darkness was somewhat disorienting, and we could never know when there might be some obstruction that we might run into in the darkness. We managed to make a slow trot across this room, which now appeared to at least a mile across and possibly much larger. It didn’t seem long before we got close enough to the moving light to tell that it was indeed just what I has suspected it was– the swinging sword of Norar Remontar battling some enemy. We managed to reach him just as he had finished striking down the only remaining foe. His sword began to fade into darkness.

“What is all this?” I asked.

“This is a band of Kartags,” said Norar Remontar, turning on his small flashlight and pointing it at several prone figures. “They burst out of a hidden door while I was in the chamber alone, and knocked me out with a well placed blow to the head. I was lucky to regain consciousness before they were able to do whatever it was that they were planning to do to me.”

I looked at the beings lying dead in the circle of artificial illumination on the floor. They would have been about five feet tall when standing and they reminded me of a large rat, at least as far as their faces were concerned. They had legs designed for upright locomotion, and two sets of arms on their upper torso. Their dirty, wrinkled skin was a dull grey color, and hairless, reminding me quite a bit of the way rodents look just after they are born. Though they wore no type of clothing, they did wear simple leather harnesses upon which they carried crude hand-made stone tools.

“The Kartags are well-known to my people,” said my Amatharian friend. “They live by scavenging from more civilized beings.”

“I kind of got that impression from looking at them,” I replied. “It is lucky that you were able to rescue yourself. If it hadn’t been for the soul in your sword, Malagor and I would never have found you.”

The Sorceress and her Lovers – My Own Review

The Sorceress and her LoversI 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 Excerpt

Voyage of the Minotaur (New Cover)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.

The Voyage of the Minotaur – Chapter 8 Excerpt

Voyage of the Minotaur (New Cover)It was mid-afternoon when Terrence stepped back out of the tent and back into the marketplace of Nutooka. He paid no attention to words of goodbye from Oyunbileg. As it always did afterwards, the color seemed to have drained out of the world and it now looked as monochrome as a picture from a photographic plate. And just as they always did afterwards, sounds seemed far more intense than usual, and he felt as though he could pick out individual voices from among the crowd of native merchants and their customers. He pulled off his slouch hat to mop the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve, and then started as two women brushed past him. They were two women from the Minotaur, and seemed too engrossed in their conversation to notice him.

He recognized both women. One was Professor Calliere’s red-haired assistant. The other was a dark-haired woman, about two inches taller and thirty pounds heavier, who was a female medical doctor. Her name was something that started with a ‘k’ sound—Cleves or Keeves or something. Terrence stood and admired both women as they walked near the edge of the stall selling bolts of cloth in many colors. Both were women of class: dynamic, intelligence, determined. They were both the kind of women that he could have seen himself courting, in another life.

He was still watching the two women when the sounds of a great kafuffle somewhere on the other side of the market reached his ears. No sooner had this registered than seven or eight mounted men rode into the market near the two women from the Minotaur. These riders were dressed in various clothing of tan, brown, and white, but each had a red sash wrapped around his waist, and each wore a red hood completely covering his face, with only two holes cut out through which to see. The most remarkable thing about these mounted men though, wasn’t the men themselves, but their mounts. Terrence knew that horses were unavailable on Enclep, but it was still a shock to see riders upon huge, ferocious-looking birds. The birds were as tall as a horse, though unlike that noble steed, they ran on only two massive legs, and had tiny useless wings. Their clawed feet were almost two feet across and the massive beaks upon their mammoth heads looked as though it could easily clip off a man’s arm, or disembowel him in a moment. They were mostly covered with brown feathers, though there were black and white details on some of them. The men had them saddled, and though they squawked incessantly, they seemed to be under firm control.

One of the men on bird-back, reached down and scooped up Professor Calliere’s assistant as though she were a shapely bag of wheat. Another grabbed the female medical doctor. Still another grabbed a native woman from nearby. Two or three had already appropriated women from somewhere else in the market and two more tried to grab nearby native women only to be thwarted by their intended victims diving behind market stalls. The entire flock of riders raced to escape the market and the city, which led them down the path directly toward Terrence Dechantagne.

With one deft motion, Terrence pulled both his nickel-plated forty five revolvers from their shoulder holsters. He fired first one and then the other in rapid succession emptying all twelve cylinders. The first rider fell to the ground, hit several times, as did the great bird that he had ridden. The second rider, shot through the neck, tumbled to the ground. The woman that had been his captive plopped unceremoniously onto the dirt. The rest of the riders turned their birds, in a way that would have been impossible in the confined area had they been riding horses, and headed for the far side of the pathway between stalls, leaving their dead fellows and a single noisy giant bird behind.

Quickly popping the cylinders of his revolvers open and reloading them, Terrence barely noticed the short red-head at his side. He tasted the metallic cloud of gunpowder smoke that hung in the humid air. By the time he had finished reloading the guns though, the mounted men had turned the corner and vanished, and he had time to take notice that it was the professor’s assistant whom he had rescued from the second rider.

“Are you alright, Miss?

“Lusk, Egeria Lusk. You’re going after them.” She said. It was more a command than a question.

Not taking time to realize that it was an employee of an employee, as well as a woman, who was now ordering him about, Terrence just nodded, stuffed his two guns back into their holsters, and taking a running jump, leapt into the empty saddle of the now riderless bird. The bird turned its head around almost one hundred eighty degrees and snapped its mighty beak, taking off one of his shirt pockets and a little bit of chest hair. Terrence balled up his fist and punched the creature in the head as hard as he could, then grabbed the reigns and kicked the bird in the flanks, just as he would have done a horse. The monstrous avian, apparently now satisfied as to just who was boss, shot off through the marketplace.

The trail of the kidnappers was not difficult to follow. They had created a great deal of disturbance as they raced through Nutooka with their captives. The first problem was that the people of the town had filled in the pathway behind the riders: people here, as anywhere else, wanting to see for themselves what all the commotion was about. The second problem was that Terrence had never ridden a bird before. He had ridden horses, mules, and once, when drunk he had even ridden a pig, but never so much as a chicken until now. Even though he was firmly seated in a saddle, it seemed as though the saddle was constantly about to slip off the rear end of the swaying animal. The net result was that even though they were many and he was only one, and even though they had the additional weight of their captives, these men, these apparent kidnappers were leaving him behind.

Following a narrow but distinct dirt pathway, the trail of the band of riders on their giant birds swept down a few nearby streets and then out of town and into the jungle. This pathway was one of the frequently used corridors through the dense jungle from Nutooka to outlying farms and villages in the area. Even to Terrence, relatively unskilled at tracking, the evidence of their passage was plain. Broken branches on the edge of the road, as well as large and distinctive footprints in the dirt, kept him on the right track.

Seven or eight miles from the city, Terrence heard the sharp crack of rifle fire and the whiz of bullets as they passed by his head. He pulled up sharp on the reigns of the great bird and tried to see where the shots had come from. He spotted two riflemen high in the jungle trees, just as they fired for a second time. One was to the right of the path and one was to the left. Both wore the scarlet sashes around their waists and the scarlet hoods of the gang that he was following. A shot went straight through his mount’s head. The monstrous bird reared back then fell; leaving Terrence on his back, with his left leg pinned by the avian’s neck. Pulling out both revolvers, he pointed one in the direction of each of the riflemen and fired six quick shots, three from each pistol. He was rewarded with a cry of pain from the rifleman to the right and saw the man plummet from the tree. He turned both pistols on the left rifleman and fired the remaining six shots. The second rifleman fell from the tree too, but he fell without a sound.

Still lying on his back, Terrence reloaded his guns. He expected to be shot at again at any moment, but no more gunfire erupted from the jungle. The gang of kidnappers had left only two of their members to deal with him. While he had to admire their ability to climb jungle trees and shoot rifles from their perches, Terrence was glad that they had underestimated him. He kicked his leg free of the giant dead bird, and stood up. Then he retrieved his hat which had fallen off. He had a decision to make. Did he continue on foot, not knowing how many miles lay between him and those he was pursuing, or did he go back for help? Did he abandon a woman from the Minotaur to some unknown but undoubtedly horrible fate?

The sounds coming from the trail behind him relieved him of the need to make such a difficult decision. The unmistakable hiss and chug of a steam carriage was clearly audible before the vehicle itself appeared in the road. Driving was Augustus Dechantagne. Sitting next to him was a man that Terrence had never seen before. The two wizards, Dudley Labrith and Suvir Kesi, sat in the back seat. The vehicle came to a stop just in front of Terrence, who hopped up onto the passenger side running board.

“There you are, old man,” said Augie. “Heard you were having trouble. Miss Lusk told me what happened and I grabbed some help and here I am.”

Princess of Amathar – Chapter 9 Excerpt

Princess of Amathar“Soon I will bite you on your neck, and suck the delicious juices from your body.”
“I hope you get indigestion,” I replied.
“I won’t. I have eaten many Amatharians. You are delicious. Of course that furry one is not fit to eat,” the disgusting thing pointed one of its front legs at Malagor. “We will lay our eggs upon it.”
“You have killed us,” Norar Remontar repeated.
“I suppose that I have disgraced myself by my negligence.”
“No. It was merely an unfortunate mistake.”
“I don’t have to kill myself to atone for it?”
“My people do not believe in suicide. If an Amatharian must make reparation for a wrong, he does it by doing service for the one he has injured. Besides, I do not think that you would have the opportunity to kill yourself.”
The large ugly spider creature spoke again.
“You must remain alive. You must be alive when I suck your insides out.”
Now it is not so much that I mind someone, or in this case I guess it was something, talking about sucking my insides out, but I had the impression that this thing was baiting me and trying to scare me. I was determined to put a brave face on the situation, if only to give Norar Remontar a good impression of me. So I spit right in the spider’s face, or what I took to be its face. It screamed out in a high pitched whine that made my spine tingle, and actually made Malagor yelp out in pain. The spider jumped and danced around in a circle, whether in pain or in ecstasy I couldn’t say, but after that it seemed to keep farther away from my face for which I was grateful. If you would like to get a real idea of my predicament, simply go out to the back yard and move some wood or a flower pot until you find a large plump Black Widow spider. Put the spider in a jar, and look at it through a magnifying glass. Now imagine that face right up next to yours talking to you, and you will see almost exactly what I saw there in the forests of Ecos, for the Pell, as the Amatharians call these creatures, resemble nothing so much as a fifty pound Black Widow, without the red hour glass marking.
For the first time since being trussed up, I looked around to take a real stock of our enemies. There were about twenty of the disgusting creatures around, and they all looked about the same, with slight variations of size. Then without so much as another word or shrill squeal, the spiders started off through the forest. Four spiders grabbed my cocoon in their vertical mouths and began to drag me across the forest floor. Malagor and Norar Remontar were subjects of similar treatment. It was neither a comfortable nor a dignified way to travel. We were dragged about a mile into a very dark and silent portion of the forest.
The Pell had taken us to their home. This settlement, if one can so dignify the place with that name, was nothing more than an immense spider web covering several hundred square yards, and rising high into the upper branches of a number of trees. We were taken to the center of the spider web, then long strands of silk were tied to our feet, and we were hauled up to hang upside down some thirty feet above the ground. I then noticed that the Pell numbered in the hundreds, ranging in size from about as big as a tarantula, to one individual, possibly the village elder, who was about the size of a large pony. All of these beasts climbed around the webbing, but their main residence seemed to be a large hole in the ground below us and a little to my left.
I have always hated spiders, and the experience of hanging by my ankles in a giant web, and being examined by arachnids close to my own size did nothing to strengthen my opinion of them. I tried to think of some way to free my hands, but they were wrapped tightly at my sides. I couldn’t imagine things getting any worse than they were at that moment, but they really always can. Just then it started to rain.
I like rain. I suppose that it is because I grew up in the southwestern United States, where rainfall is relatively rare. However rain, when in conjunction with gravity, has an unfortunate effect upon an individual who is hanging upside down. It runs up his nose.
“You have killed me,” said Malagor, and he stretched out his head and began a long low howl.
This did nothing to improve my own state of mind. I looked around, blinded by the water running over my face, but desperate to find some means of escape. There seemed little hope.
“Can’t you call on the power of your sword?” I asked Norar Remontar.
“What?”
“Can’t you call upon the soul in your sword to rescue you?”
“I do not call upon the soul. It comes of its own accord. And it does not do so to cut bonds. It comes only for battle.”
“That seems inconvenient,” I replied. “I see no way of escape.”

Princess of Amathar – Chapter 7 Excerpt

Princess of AmatharFor the first time since being trussed up, I looked around to take a real stock of our enemies. There were about twenty of the disgusting creatures around, and they all looked about the same, with slight variations of size. Then without so much as another word or shrill squeal, the spiders started off through the forest. Four spiders grabbed my cocoon in their vertical mouths and began to drag me across the forest floor. Malagor and Norar Remontar were subjects of similar treatment. It was neither a comfortable nor a dignified way to travel. We were dragged about a mile into a very dark and silent portion of the forest.

The Pell had taken us to their home. This settlement, if one can so dignify the place with that name, was nothing more than an immense spider web covering several hundred square yards, and rising high into the upper branches of a number of trees. We were taken to the center of the spider web, then long strands of silk were tied to our feet, and we were hauled up to hang upside down some thirty feet above the ground. I then noticed that the Pell numbered in the hundreds, ranging in size from about as big as a tarantula, to one individual, possibly the village elder, who was about the size of a large pony. All of these beasts climbed around the webbing, but their main residence seemed to be a large hole in the ground below us and a little to my left.

I have always hated spiders, and the experience of hanging by my ankles in a giant web, and being examined by arachnids close to my own size did nothing to strengthen my opinion of them. I tried to think of some way to free my hands, but they were wrapped tightly at my sides. I couldn’t imagine things getting any worse than they were at that moment, but they really always can. Just then it started to rain.

I like rain. I suppose that it is because I grew up in the southwestern United States, where rainfall is relatively rare. However rain, when in conjunction with gravity, has an unfortunate effect upon an individual who is hanging upside down. It runs up his nose.

“You have killed me,” said Malagor, and he stretched out his head and began a long low howl.

This did nothing to improve my own state of mind. I looked around, blinded by the water running over my face, but desperate to find some means of escape. There seemed little hope.

“Can’t you call on the power of your sword?” I asked Norar Remontar.

“What?”

“Can’t you call upon the soul in your sword to rescue you?”

“I do not call upon the soul. It comes of its own accord. And it does not do so to cut bonds. It comes only for battle.”

“That seems inconvenient,” I replied. “I see no way of escape.”

“There is no way of escape.” Came a high-pitched voice. “You are doomed to die, as am I.”

I twisted my body around to look upon a Pell sitting nearby. It was about the size of a big dog, but otherwise seemed identical to all the other spider creatures.

“You are doomed to die?” Malagor asked. “Why?”

“I have angered the web-leader. I feasted upon food that was not mine.”

“Could you get us out of this web and these cocoons?” I inquired.

“Why would I want to do that?”

“Why not? You are going to die anyway.”

“My death will not be as horrible as it would be should I release you.”

“We are going to Amathar. If you were to come with us, you would escape death, and be welcome there.” I was attempting to weave a web of my own as I talked. “He’d be welcome. Wouldn’t he, Norar Remontar?”

“No,” he said.

“Work with me here!” I pleaded.

“The Amatharian speaks truly. I have no place else to go. Amathar would not welcome me.” Whined the arachnid.

“What if Norar Remontar promised to protect you. You know Amatharians always keep their word. He could promise to find you a new home.” The Pell’s forelegs began to twitch.

“You’ll protect him and find him a new home. Won’t you, Norar Remontar?”

“No,” he said.

“Do you want to live to see Amathar? Do you want to be able to rescue your sister?” I hissed. “Tell the damn spider you’ll protect him if he’ll let us go.”

“No,” he said.

“I cannot go far away,” whined the Pell.

“Why are you up here anyway?” I asked him. “Why would you be sentenced to death for eating something that wasn’t yours?”

“We eat any live flesh,” he explained. “but thinking, speaking creatures are reserved for the leader and the hive elder.”

“That hardly seems fair. Why, a fellow like you… what was your name?”

“Vvvv.”

“Why,” I continued. “I would much rather be eaten by a fine fellow like you than almost anyone else. What about you, Malagor?”

“Indeed,” said my companion. “It would be an honor to be eaten by Vvvv.”

“You must surely be the finest of the Pell,” I said. “In fact, now that I think about it, why aren’t you the leader?”

“I should be!” Squealed the spider, puffing himself up larger. “I have always known that I should be leader! Even the lower forms can see it!”