Swords & Gaslamps: Volume 1

Description

Nine tales of danger and daring to astound!

 

ISBN 9781838456757    270 pages

A glossy cover and a big fat ‘1’ on the spine. Free 2nd class postage to UK addresses (Tracked 48 Small parcel for 2+ books.)

 

Brond, mercenary swordsman faces dragons and sacrifices, and sorcerers conjuring the end of the world as we know it.

Sondar K’dar, thief, adventurer and sword for hire encounters danger at every turn in her travels across the land: curses, shapeshifters and worse.

Abelard C Grey, formerly of Her Britannic Majesty’s Airship Corps (and now a privateer) is drawn into a quest for a great treasure, but must first escape the clutches of his psychotic captain.

Javen Silvertail, hero of the dell, faces his fiercest test yet.

Nine tales where things are not what they seem…

 

When growing up, I devoured books like there was no tomorrow. I read anything I could – especially in my favourite genre of fantasy. I was intrigued and fascinated by the heroics of Robert E Howard’s Conan, and of Fafhrd and the Mouser in Fritz Leiber’s Swords series, along with many others. What bewitched me most in these stories (apart from the sword wielding heroics, the daring dos and deadly dangers that these and all the other adventurers in these richly detailed worlds) were two things.

Firstly, the differences in story length. In Swords & Ice Magic, Leiber bridges the full range with Beauty and the Beasts being a shade over 2 pages, whilst Rime Isle spans nigh on 100 pages. Tales of wonder for all occasions; the bus trip to work – the long, hot soak in the bath – or just curled up in front of a good fire.

Secondly, and more importantly to me, these were mostly tales away from the pompous, bombastic tropes of ‘Chosen Ones’ in quests to save the world; away from tales of prophecies, secret heirs, hidden princes and the like. Just plain heroes and heroines exploring their worlds, and overcoming whatever adversity is put in their way.

Here, you will find my tales influenced by those pioneers of S&S – Carter, Moorcock, Leiber, Burrows et al, and their heroes – Conan, Soloman Kane & Kull the Conqueror, Elric & Hawkmoon, Fafhrd & the Mouser, John Carter & Tarzan. As an added twist, I have thrown in my love of steampunk with short stories dedicated to the ‘nostalgia for a time that never was’.

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It looked as if it was going to snow, and Sondar K’dar swore. She observed the gathering, grey gloom above and then looked at the bowed boughs of the firs, sagging under the weight of a thousand blizzards.

She swore because each day for the last five it had looked as if it was going to snow, and then, to her chagrin, it had. Great flurries of large flakes falling like a myriad of leaves in autumn. The fall obliterated the path and hid every obstacle on it. On a good day in summer the path may just have been passable, however the Feast of Dalakast, signifying the end of one year and heralding the new, was only a few weeks away.

She cursed the weather and her own rashness. What insanity had possessed her in order to take this job? Her hand strayed to her side to feel the satchel containing messages that sat on her left hip, suspended from a strap that crossed her chest. The leather had been lathered in oily wax to protect both itself and the contents within from the intense cold. Insanity indeed, she thought. Her activities in Mandakor had caught the eye of the authorities and she had thought it prudent to move on. It wasn’t just the town guard either; the local Thieves Guild had taken offence at her reluctance to pay their tithe. The rest of her years languishing in the King’s dungeon or the rest of her life bleeding out in a ditch with her throat slit. Either option now seemed preferable to the balance of her journey through the inhospitable snow and ice – and all for the paltry sum of ten Double-headed Eagles, the golden crowns of King Jeffert the second.

She looked ahead and caught the faint, golden glow on the horizon, nestled precariously on the side of a far peak. The walled town of Hunan Tar! Her destination seemed a world away, yet it was only a day’s trek away. The fortress town was sanctuary to all who trudged this treacherous path. And a treacherous path the route from Mandakor to Hunan Tar was. The journey took her high into the mountains that were known as the Spine of the World, a range of jagged and dangerous peaks that split the world into east and west. It was said by many that if one could reach the summit of the tallest, then one could reach out and pluck a star from the night sky.

Wolves and bears were an obvious danger, the curse and downfall of many a traveler. Bandits and brigands took refuge in the wilderness, plying their thuggish trade on those that passed by. Once, she had heard the heart-stopping call of a mountain troll, bellowing out a challenge to something brave enough, or unwitting enough, to cross its territory. The most terrifying adversary though, was Nature herself. Winds that tore, storms that deafened, and temperatures that could plummet cold enough and fast enough to freeze a man mid-pace threatened those that trod the paths crossing the Spine of the World.

“Damn snow!” she muttered again and then repeated herself, louder still. After all, no-one in their right mind would be near her. Not this far into the Spine. So, when a reply came, she naturally jumped, and her right hand flittered to the hilt of her short-bladed sword, her fur-lined gloves made of rabbit pelt coming to rest on the bound grip. The other hand gripped her shortbow, the string clenched in her hand against the riser.

“Well, what would one expect this high in the mountains. And in the dead of winter too.”