Archive for the ‘previews’ Category

“Hello,” said a Goblin from beside him. “Let’s be friends.”
“Let’s not,” Riplock growled. “You guys don’t look as fun as you think.”
He remembered hearing the Rockbiters talk about their berserk fighting technique.
Something, they said, just snaps. And there you go. Blood everywhere.
That’s what they said.
Riplock glared into the purple eyes of the Northman and thought deep inside that glow he could see the Deadspore itself, squirming in the man’s skull, and something inside the Hobgoblin just snapped.

Tolkien had his game face on when he penned his epics. I mean, he pulled those languages so far out of his backside that not only must it have hurt, but it meant he was able to speak those languages like a native. Me, I don’t have that kind of dedication. Besides, inventing languages is kind of like inventing numbers. You think you’re so original, but really it’s just silly and everyone secretly thinks you’re a bit of a prat.

“We got tactics,” Fistguts said. “Bossyou, he think of some.”
Bossyou sighed hard and nodded. Times like this tested his patience. Tactics. Think of something. What did they think he was? An Elf?
“We could split up,” Spitblood suggested. “Come at him from behind? Rip his back open?”
“Fuck,” Fistguts said. “He big.”
Onespud kept screaming as the Ogre lashed out with his club. Only narrowly missed braining the Goblin.
“Nah,” Bossyou said. “We fucked.”

The footpad who’d lost his arm was curled up against the wall, keening to himself as he tried to staunch the blood with little more than his clutching hand. A futile attempt, she judged as blood pumped eagerly between his fingers. She eyes him casually and wondered if she should stick Go With My Blessing between his eyes.
For his own good, of course.
A grunt from Perrin lifted her gaze, and she saw one of the men slide his dagger deep into his thigh. A gush of red splashed out onto the street and Perrin cried out.
The bearded man glanced down at the dagger and then up to catch her impassive expression. A shocked look passed over his face as he realised she was just squatting in the street and watching as though seated before a street performance. She resisted the urge to applaude.
“Aren’t you going to help?” he growled, pushing hard at the two men. The footpads were thrown back a few steps. He gasped as the dagger was tugged from his leg.
Nysta tapped her chin with Go With My Blessing’s sharp point. “I don’t know yet,” she said.

With the Nysta series, I wanted to create something that merges three simple styles of writing. The Hardboiled detective style of the 30s and 40s, the sword and sorcery pulp style and the westerns of the Piccadilly Cowboys as perfected by George G. Gilman. Their styles are vaguely familiar, with shorter sentences, simplified language and a rather laconic style which is accentuated by moments of brutal violence. I felt fantasy needed a good kick of brutality again. We’re missing it. My goal is to write something you might like to read between other books. That sounds strange, but I always find myself picking up some old Fritz Leiber books, or Roger Zelazny or George G. Gilman. Sometimes Raymond Chandler, or Mickey Spillane. Anything to kind of bridge the moments between larger, more sophisticated works. I like a shorter, simpler book. And while the trend has been to avoid these kind of novels, I still keep my eye out for a few slim books which will tide me over while I wait for something epic to come out. It’s hard as a fantasy lover to keep reading epics.

Grinning wildly, the elf skidded to a halt just in front of Tarlo, who was lifting himself to his feet. She kicked him hard in the head and blood sprayed hard down to the street as he flopped down on his back, his head rolling drunkenly on his shoulders.

It began to rain as Morlac ran at her in a stance she recognised easily and attempted to plant his sword hard into her guts. Halfway through his strike, he twisted his forearm hard to angle it suddenly upward. His intent was to skip through her initial defence and pierce her chest to drive the blade through her heart.

As she jumped, her hand tore a slim throwing dagger from her waist. “Entrance Exam,” she hissed, naming the new dagger as she sent it spinning through the air.

It glittered, a steel bird in flight.

Slid easily into the bearded man’s right eye and pierced his brain. A splash of blood flooded out across his face. He fell with a cry which was oddly childlike.

Landed on the next table, leaving behind a rising wave of screams as heads turned to see death emerging from the crowd.

“Go With My Blessing,” she said, sending another broad throwing dagger into the chest of the bored man by the door. He’d spun in surprise at the sudden attack of the elf, and caught it low in his chest. Stared down at it as blood bubbled up over his lips.

“What the f-” he managed before he slid down the wall and died.

She ducked under the serrated knife, lunging at the first twin and siezing his knifehand. He squeaked as she stuck a knife hard into his gut with a violent twist which split his aorta and creased his spine. Tore it free with a gush of blood and had to throw herself sideways to miss catching the second twin’s blade in her throat.

Tumbled through the spilled trash.

The stench of freshly disturbed rot made her gag. She fought it down and pulled herself to her feet in time to grab the swinging arm of the twin, his face a contorted mask of hate. “You fucking killed my brother!” he spat.

“I don’t like crowds,” she growled, smashing his knee with her heel. The sound of his kneecap crunching was oddly satisfying to her. The twin screamed, and fell to the ground, dropping his knife and grabbing at his shattered joint. “Ain’t much for companies, either.”

The giant’s laugh rolled loudly across the silence of the eatery. Flexed his muscular arms. “Smooth operator? You made a joke! I like that! Maybe you can tell me another one in a minute. But first, let’s take out all your teeth.”

“That doesn’t sound right,” she said.

“Why not?”

“Seems to me,” she said, jerking her head toward the man in the doorway. “He should be the dentist. Not you.”

I was quite proud of this little bit I scribbled on a bit of paper today, so I will share it.

The normally fashion unconscious elf was disturbed by the man’s appearance.

He was big. Big and ugly – an offensive combination. Still, she thought. Nothing a few piercings wouldn’t fix.