Senta and the Steel Dragon – Hexagon Park

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One of the most famous places in the capital city of Greater Brechalon is Hexagon Park.

Pushing herself regretfully away from the glass, and leaving two hand smudges, a forehead smudge, and a nose smudge, Senta ran across Prince Tybalt Boulevard, which crossed perpendicularly, making a “T” at the end of Avenue Phoenix. She ran in a zigzag motion to avoid being run over by any of the numerous steam carriages which whizzed by. Several of them honked at her with a loud ‘ah-oogah’ but none of them ran over her. And then she stood at last on the edge of Hexagon Park. Senta had no idea that Hexagon Park was so named because of its six sided shape. She didn’t even know what a hexagon was. She did not realize that Hexagon Park was the exact same size and shape as the Great Plaza, where Café Carlo was located. To her, the park had always seemed so much larger. Nor did she know that the park, the plaza, and the rest of the “Old City” had been laid out and marked, using a stick dragged through the dirt, by Magnus the Great, the King of the Zur, when he had conquered the continent almost nineteen hundred years before.


Hexagon Park was lovely in the spring. This eight hundred yard diameter wonderland was filled with delights. At the south end, to Senta’s right, the park was carefully cultivated, with large rose gardens, numerous small beds full of colorful annuals, ancient fountains spraying water from the mouths of mythical animals or pouring water from pitchers carried by statues of naked women, abundant fruit trees now in bloom behind their own little wrought iron fences, and still reflecting pools filled with tadpoles. At the north end, to Senta’s left, the park was kept more natural, with large expanses of beautifully green grass, large shade trees, now filled with more than enough leaves to do their duty, winding pathways, and small ponds full of colorful fish. Senta headed for the center of the park, following the flagstone path that led to the central courtyard. Here was a small amphitheater, a series of park benches arranged around a mosaic map of the kingdom inlaid in the pavement, and the wonderful, wonderful steam-powered calliope, which played joyful music from mid-morning to mid-afternoon.


The calliope, which had been between songs as Senta walked through the park, began toot-toot-tooting the next tune, just as she arrived in the center courtyard. Senta had heard this tune many times, though she didn’t know its name. It was lively and bouncy and made her feel even more like skipping than she usually did. The growls of hunger from her stomach overcame the urge to skip down the paths of the park though, so she sat down on one of the benches, unwrapped her red plaid bindle, opened the wax paper, and stuffed her sandwich into her mouth. Mouth watering with each bite of the course bread, the salty ham, and the tangy brown mustard, she had finished off more than half of it before she stopped to take a breath and to look around her.


There were numerous people in the park, walking down the paths, admiring the flowers, and lying on the large swaths of green grass. Several small boys, about five or six years old, tried to catch tadpoles in the reflecting pool some forty yards away. There were relatively few people in the central courtyard though. The calliope man was there, making small adjustments to the great machine. It was a large, square, red wagon upon four white wood-spoked wheels, with a shining brass steam engine, which bristling with hundreds of large and small brass pipes, each spitting steam in turn to create the wonderful music. A young man in his twenties—nicely dressed but not obviously rich—sat reading a newspaper while he ate fish and chips from a newspaper cone, which he had no doubt purchased from a vending cart just outside the park boundaries. On the bench closest to the one on which Senta sat eating, was an older man in a shabby brown overcoat. He was tossing bits of bread to several of the foot-tall flying reptiles that could be found just about everywhere in the city. Unlike birds—tending in these parts to be smaller—which hopped along when not in flight, these fuzzy, large-headed reptiles ran from bread crumb to bread crumb, in a waddling motion, with their bat-like wings outstretched.

The name and shape of Hexagon park is a nod to my background of role-playing, having drawn many maps on hexagon paper.

Senta and the Steel Dragon – Humboldt’s Fine Toys

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A small shop in the middle of the Avenue Phoenix is Humbolt’s Fine Toys. It is a location of interest for 8 year old Senta, who would love a doll more than just about anything.

Stopping to press her face against the glass, right below the printed sign that said “Humboldt’s Fine Toys”, Senta stared at the wonders in the store. She had never been inside, but had stopped to look in the window many times. The centerpiece of the store display was a mechanical bird. It worked with gears and sprockets and springs and was made of metal, but it was covered in real bird feathers in a rainbow of hues, and would sit and peck and chirp and sing as though it were alive, until it finally wound down, and the toy maker would walk to the window and say the word to reactivate the bird’s magic spell. Senta knew that the bird would remain in the window for a long, long time, until some young prince or princess needed a new birthday gift, because that bird would have cost as much as the entire Café Carlo. Arranged around it were various mechanical toy vehicles—ships, trains, and steam carriages. Some were magical and some worked with a wind-up key, but they all imitated the real life conveyances from which they were patterned.

None of these wonderful toys held as much fascination for Senta though, as the doll which sat in the corner of the window. It wasn’t magical. It wasn’t even animated by a wind-up mechanism. It was a simple doll with a rag body and porcelain hands, feet, and face. It was wearing a simple black dress. Its blond hair had been cut in a short little bob, and looked like real human hair. It had a painted face with bright blue eyes and pink lips. It may well have been one of the lesser priced toys in the shop. It was definitely the least expensive item in the window, but Senta would never be able to purchase it. Had she been able to save every pfennig she earned, it still would have taken her more than thirty weeks before she had enough to purchase the doll. And she could not save every pfennig she earned. Most weeks, she could not even save one.

Pushing herself regretfully away from the glass, and leaving two hand smudges, a forehead smudge, and a nose smudge, Senta ran across Prince Tybalt Boulevard, which crossed perpendicularly, making a “T” at the end of Avenue Phoenix.

I don’t remember where Humbolt came from. It’s just one of those names that popped into my head.

Princess of Amathar – Chapter 18 Excerpt

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In many ways, life aboard the great Amatharian battle cruiser was much easier for me than it had been in the city. The ship operated on a fixed schedule based on its own version of the city-cycle, which was recalibrated each time the ship docked in Amathar. Each person on board was assigned a duty and worked three cycles, followed by six cycles off duty. I knew absolutely nothing about the ship or its procedures, so initially I was assigned to the security detail. Since I was a knight, I was given what was essentially an officer’s rank– command of ten swordsmen, each of whom commanded eight to ten warriors.

Amatharian ships didn’t have names, though they did sport numbers. The battle cruisers were essentially all of the same class, though they had minor differences, and some were newer than others. Their importance was based entirely upon who commanded them, and what mission they were on. This ship was Sun Battle cruiser 11, and it was the flagship of Norar Remontar’s twelve ship squadron, one of four squadrons making the assault on Zonamis. Like the other ships, this one was painted navy blue with silver trim. Like the other three flagships of the fleet, this one had a great crest across the bow– in this case, a flaming sun with outstretched wings. And like all Amatharian ships, this one was arrayed with the banners of her knights. When I first saw my own banner, with a flaming sun embossed by the letter “A”, flying among the many others, I was filled with pride. There were more than ten thousand soldiers aboard this one ship, and about one in a hundred were knights.

The accommodations on the vessel were far more spacious than I had expected. Every soldier aboard had his own cabin, and though they were very small in comparison to their homes in Amathar, they were far larger than I had seen on any ocean going vessels of Earth. Each was large enough to have a bunk, which was mounted to the wall rather than sunk into the floor as was the Amatharian fashion, a small table and two chairs and a closet. My own cabin had a large window looking out toward the landscape that rolled continuously past.

Now that we were finally on our way, I spent more and more time thinking of the woman I knew I was in love with, though I had seen her only one time– the Princess of Amathar. Sometimes these thoughts would lead to remembrances of her cousin, Vena Remontar, and the friendship she had shown me. Other times I just fretted over what might have happened to Noriandara Remontar since her abduction by the Zoasians. Even cruising at full speed, it would be a long time before we reached Zonamis, and I worried about all the things which she still might face. I figured our maximum speed to be between two and three hundred miles per hour, and so even accepting the more generous of the two figures, it would be the equivalent of four and a half months before the fleet arrived. It was a long time.

I tried to make good use of all the time I had available. I learned to pilot the Amatharian aircraft, both fighters and shuttles. It wasn’t as difficult as one might expect. I imagine that any child capable of playing those fast action video games could easily manage it. The controls consisted of a joystick in the left hand to control the steering and a lever for the right hand which controlled lift. There was an automated training simulator on board which I used at first, but after it became apparent to me and to the pilots that I would probably not crash the vehicle, I was allowed to participate in some of the flight drills which were constantly leaving the battle cruiser and returning.

I improved upon my growing skill with the sword, which was in fact my primary duty aboard ship. As the leader of a security team, I did little but see to the watches around the vessel, and drill my troops with the sword and the light rifle. I must say that I had never seen men and women so devoted to duty as those one hundred or so Amatharians under my command. In that entire time, never once was a soldier absent from his duty because of sickness or anything else.

Even with all of the military activity in which I was involved, there was plenty of time for recreation and social activity. The swordsmen and warriors of my company enjoyed playing a kind of catch, in which they used an irregular shaped cloth bag filled with plastic-like beads. Another game involved the skewering of various thrown objects upon a stick as the individual ran through a maze of obstacles. I gathered that this traditional activity once involved the use of swords, but now it was considered a great dishonor to endanger one’s sword for a mere game. In addition, I spent a large amount of time in the ship’s prodigious library where I read biographies of interesting Amatharians, novels of several different types, and a book of rather dark and morbid poems penned by Mindana Remontar herself.

I was lucky to have my friends present on the same ship. Norar Remontar was of course in command, and though he was busy with his duties far more than I was with mine, we still had time to discuss life, love, and duty over dinner. Malagor occupied the cabin right next door to me. He had been given command of eight warriors, and had been placed in charge of one of the ship’s great light guns. Vena Remontar was aboard this ship as well, in command of all the squadrons of fighter aircraft. She seemed more and more beautiful each time I saw her. Tular Maximinos was there too.

Eaglethorpe Buxton and the Elven Princess – One Month of Free Downlaods

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It has been one month since Eaglethorpe Buxton and the Elven Princess was released as a free ebook. So far it has been downloaded 741 times at Feedbooks and Smashwords. Get your free download now. It is not yet available in bookstores, but you can purchase a copy of the paper book by clicking on the appropriate link at the right.

Senta and the Steel Dragon – Illustration

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Iolanthe released the break and pressed down with her foot on the forward accellerator, and the carriage slowly rolled forward.

Images Copyright 2009 by Clipart.com

Sale at Smashwords

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Smashwords is holding a special promotion for the month of July that includes 25% off the price for the ebook version of Princess of Amathar. You can follow the link at the right, then in the appropriate place, enter the code SSW25. The final price will be just $1.19. That’s July1-31.

Eaglethorpe Buxton and the Elven Princess – Chapter 8

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Chapter Eight: Wherein I return to my story of the Queen of Aerithraine.

I put away my knife and then climbed back into the saddle. The orphan had regained his feet and I reached down, took his hand, and lifted him back into his spot behind me. He reached around my waist and held on tight.

“Thank you,” he said.

“All is well,” said I. “A few goblins are no match for a trained warrior.”

“Then how did they manage to prevent Prince Jared from becoming the King of Aerithraine? Did they catch him asleep and murder him?”

“One might have supposed that under ordinary circumstances.” I continued my story. “These times were not ordinary. Goblins are not only small and stupid and smelly; they are disorganized. But every once and so often, there comes along a goblin who is big enough and just smart enough to unite the goblin tribes and lead them on the warpath against the civilized lands of humans.”

“I had always heard that none of the human lands were truly civilized,” said he.

“What an odd and unorphanish thing to say.”

“Um… oh. I’m just discombobulated from the incident with the goblins.”

“Even so,” I agreed. “Well, at the time my story takes place, there was one such goblin king, who came to power by killing and eating his many rivals. And as happens when the goblins become unified in such a way, they experienced a population explosion. The mountains of the Goblineld were teaming with the little blighters. When the mountains could no longer contain them, they swept out across the southern third of the Kingdom of Aerithraine, destroying everything in their path.”

“Frightening,” said the orphan.

“Quite frightening.”

“Still…”

“Still what?”

“Humans are so large and goblins are so small. You vanquished three pairs of goblins, and did it quite handily too.”

“Thank you.”

“And you don’t seem particularly skilled or particularly bright.”

“What?”

“I just wonder that an entire human kingdom could not put together an army to destroy even a large horde of goblins,” said the orphan. “I would imagine that even a well-trained militia could do the job. I once heard the story of the Calille Lowain who held off five thousand goblins at Greer Drift.”

“I don’t know that story,” said I.

“Perhaps I will tell it to you sometime,” said he. “But what about it? Couldn’t the humans defeat the goblins?”

“There were tens of thousands of them. Hundreds of thousands. Thousands of thousands. But you are right. In other times, such hordes were sent packing, back to their mines and tunnels in the Goblineld. This time though, the goblins had a hidden ally. Far to the east, the Witch King of Thulla-Zor, who is always looking for ways to cause destruction and chaos, saw this as an opportunity. He supplied the goblin king with magic and weapons, and sent trolls and ogres to strengthen his ranks. None of these facts were known to King Justin when he rode forth with the Dragon Knights to meet them.

“King Justin, his three younger sons, and all of the Dragon Knights were slaughtered– to a man. Prince Jared, who had been in the north fighting sea raiders, hurried his forces south, only to meet a similar fate. The goblins were waiting for him. The entire southern third of the kingdom fell– and remained in the goblins’ filthy little hands for almost twenty years. And the Goblin King feasted on the spoils of war, sitting on his throne far below the surface of the mountains, drinking his disgusting goblin wine from a cup made from the skull of King Justin.”

“How horrible,” murmured the orphan.

“Yes indeed,” I continued. “And I think the worse part of the story is what happened to Queen Beatrix.”

“What happened to her?”

“She died. She died of a broken heart. And her unborn child almost died with her.

“Unborn child? It didn’t die?”

“No, the court physician cut the child from the Queen’s belly. It was a tiny baby girl.”

“Queen Elleena!” snapped the orphan.

“She should have been,” said I.

“What do you mean?”

“She should have been Queen the moment she was birthed, but that wasn’t to be. There were too many competing interests at court. Too many nobles wanted the throne for themselves. And in the chaos that followed the fall of the south lands, they might have done it, had it not been for the church. Little Princess Elleena Postuma was whisked off to the temple in Fall City, where she stayed for the next fourteen years, and Pope Bartholomew I became the regent of the kingdom.”

“Did they keep Elleena prisoner in the temple?” wondered the orphan.

“Of course they didn’t,” said I. “Though I will wager she sometimes felt that she was in a prison. She could go anywhere she wanted to as long as she stayed in Fall City and under constant protective guard. In the meantime she was given all the training and education that was necessary for one who would one day rule.”

“It is like prison,” said the orphan.

“Neither you nor I will ever really know the truth of that.”

At that moment, I spied a light in the distance. The story, or at least this chapter of the story over, conversation ceased. I urged Hysteria forward, which is to say I encouraged her onward toward the distant light, which turned out to be a small cabin on the side of the road. Yellow light spilled from its tiny windows onto the snow.

Not having had the best of luck so far that night with regard to welcomes, which is to say that I had been attacked three times already that night, two times of which I have already described for you here, I dismounted and crept around to the side of the cabin to the window and peered inside. Lying on the floor in a pool of blood was a man in common work clothes. The single room of the little cabin had been ransacked. And dancing around, or sitting and singing, or drinking; were more of the little, round-headed blighters, which is to say goblins.

Note: I just approved the store copies of Princess of Amathar and Eaglethorpe Buxton and the Elven Princess, so they should be available at Amazon in a week or so. You of course can purchase them now by clicking on the links to the right.

Amathar – The Pell

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The Pell are spider-like creatures who live in a colony in the forests of Ecos. They range in size from a large tarantula to larger than a pony, the speak, and they eat any creatures they come across– including Amatharians.

Horrible alien monsters are of course a staple of pulp adventure tales and that is what I was going for in Amathar. The Pell make a brief but hopefully memorable appearance early in Princess of Amathar.

Senta and the Steel Dragon – Illustration

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“Sister Auni here is just the person to set you right again.”

Images Copyright 2009 by ClipArt.com

The Voyage of the Minotaur – Chapter 18 Excerpt

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Though he was quite as busy the next day as he had been the previous, Zeah had little thought for anything he was doing and much for that night’s supper. He took a fine haddock from the first load of fish brought in on the new fishing boat. Though Mrs. Colbshallow was not available, he found a Mrs. Finkler among the Freedonian immigrants, who by all accounts was a wonderful cook. He paid her two marks to prepare roasted fish. She proved to be as good as her reputation, and at the appointed time delivered not only two beautifully roasted fish fillets, but a large plate of potatoes, seasoned in a way that was completely new to former butler but was delicious, and roasted leeks covered in sweet butter.

Borrowing a small round table, Zeah covered it with a make-due tablecloth that was actually a short scrap of baby blue dress cloth lost from someone’s luggage. He pulled out a decorative bud vase, one of the few pieces of household glass that had survived since his wife’s death, filled it with water, and stuffed a handful of white wildflowers inside. He made this the centerpiece. Though it was far from the fancy porcelain that graced the Dechantagne table, it made his chipped plates and old silverware look very sad indeed. He was happy that at least he owned two nice chairs. They too were purchased long ago by his wife.

A knock at the door announced Egeria’s presence and he hurried her in to sit down. Though she seemed completely recovered, he still treated her as though she was as fragile as the bud vase. He had yet to spend an entire night without his mind flashing to her lying on the floor of Miss Dechantagne’s tent covered in blood. On several occasions he had awakened from a nightmare version of those events.

“Well, you’ve outdone yourself, Mr. Korlann,” said Egeria, looking at the food. “You must have been cooking all day.”

“I… didn’t cook it.”

“I know, silly,” she laughed. “Even if cooking was one of your many talents, I doubt you would have prepared Potatoes Kasselburg.”

“Is that what they are?”

“Yes. I had them last time I was in Freedonia.”

“Last time?”

“Mm-hmm. I’ve had to travel Kasselburg and Bangdorf several times.”

“I’ve never been to Freedonia,” mused Zeah. “I guess I’m not very well traveled.”

“Are you kidding? Look where we are. We’re in Birmisia, for heaven’s sake.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

The fish was excellent. All in all, Zeah thought the meal could have rivaled Mrs. Colbshallow’s cooking, maybe not Mrs. Colbshallow at her best, because at her best she was unrivaled, but Mrs. Colbshallow on an average day. He thought that he could become used to the Potatoes Kasselburg, sliced and baked and layered with cheese and pepper and some spices that he wasn’t familiar with. It was a more than satisfactory meal. They drank water with dinner, but near its end, Zeah uncorked a bottle of fine red wine.

“I was thinking,” said Egeria as she brought the red wine to her red lips. “The day after tomorrow would be the appropriate day to become engaged.”

“Why is that?” asked Zeah, not really realizing what she had said.

“You know. It’s the twentieth. It’s the traditional day of starting new tasks. It would be a fine time to become engaged.”

“Engaged in what?”

“Engaged to be married.”

“Muh… muh… married?”

“It was good enough for the Bratihns.”

“I wonder… I wonder if Corporal Bratihn went off to fight alongside Master Terrence?”

“Don’t change the subject,” she said.

“I’m not trying to…”

“We don’t have to get married right away.”

“We don’t?”

“No. We can be engaged just as long as you like. We need to announce our engagement though so that all of the other men will know I’m taken.”

“Uh… Other men?”

“Many other men. They’re hovering around everywhere. They’re like bees.”

“Bees?”

“Yes. They’re like bees, and I’m the honey. I can see them just waiting to get their stingers into me.”

“We have to announce our engagement,” he said.

“You have to ask me to marry you first.”

“Will you…”

“Not now.”

“No?”

“No. You have to think up some very romantic way to propose marriage to me. You have two days.”

“The day after tomorrow.”

“Good,” she said. “Now that that’s out of the way, we can enjoy our wine.”

Zeah ran over this conversation in his head again and again the next day, and was never quite sure how exactly Egeria had maneuvered him into agreeing to ask her to marry him. He knew that jealousy had been the key, but who could blame him for being jealous. She was young and beautiful, and he was… well, him. He also knew that she was way too smart for him to outsmart her. She had said it herself. She was the most intelligent person in the colony. So after twenty four hours he was forced to go from wondering how it had happened and how to fix it, to trying to think of a romantic way to propose.