Fanfare!

Draft 3 of Curse of a Dark God is finished.

Finished!

Finished!

FIIIIINIIIIIIISHED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

245,000 words. 873 manuscript pages.

That’s a big book. SERVANT was only 170,000. A “normal” novel is somewhere around 90,000 – 120,000 words. I just emailed it to my agent with a huge sigh of relief. And a hope that the editoral sword of Damocles has been lifted a bit. I’m sure my editor will want some changes–most certainly fewer words–but hopefully this is a draft we can agree on and, therefore, set a release date.

I want to thank the following folks for reading the opening and giving me their feedback. I’ll be incorporating their comments, along with those of my beta readers, agent, and editors, in my review for the edits I’ll make to draft 4. Some of the comments, actually, made it into draft 3.

• Adam Teachout
• Alexis Cooper
• Alex Lamborn
• Amy Lamborn
• Cameron Wilson
• Darren Eggett
• David C. Walton
• David West
• Eric Allen
• Garrett Winn
• Hyrum Grissom
• Justin Fisher
• Krista Hoeppner Leahy
• Laurel Amberdine
• Lindsey Tolis
• Lynette Wood
• Martin Cahill
• Melanie Goldmund
• Merrill Nielson
• Mette Ivie Harrison
• Nick Dianatkhah
• Rachel Gao 
• Robert Thompson
• Steve Diamond
• Wesley Amodt

Again, all of you listed above–THANK YOU SO VERY MUCH FOR READING AND RESPONDING!! We luvs you, Precious. And if I missed anyone, please send me an email smack. Your name needs to be there. I’ll move it over into the fiction section later.

For those who missed out, I’m planning on posting the beginning of Dark God’s Glory for review as well. Although I don’t know how it’s going to work out with pub dates. We’ll have to see.  

By the way, here’s the opening chapter as it now stands. It may very well change.

1.   The Harvester

Berosus saw the girl the first day he arrived on the shores of the New Lands. She was a beautiful Koramite mix. Dark hair. Clear skin the color of caramel. A full set of teeth. But it was her stunning jade eyes that decided him. That and the playful but firm way she handled the sailors wanting more than just a few pints of her grog. He found lodging in a barn that night then ordered three of his men to kidnap her.

When the time was right, they brought her to him up on the hill. It was in the afternoon of the sixth day. The sun shone brightly in the blue autumn sky. The breeze rustled through the grass and trees. He untied the bonds around her wrists and told her to sit down. He said, “Some of the spark’s gone out of your eyes.”

She said, “Six days in a hole will do that to you.”

He gave her credit. She was scared and hiding it very well. He said, “You’re destined for great things.”

She looked at the tattoos on his wrists, which would tell her nothing, and said, “I’ve a father to tend to, and three brothers.”

He said, “What’s your name?”

“Jade.”

“Of course. Well, Jade. You’re good stock.” He motioned at her. “Wide hips, good bone structure. You would have born many fine children and increased the Mother’s herd. But there’s a higher purpose.”

She said, “You’re one of those Shimites, aren’t you. One of his sleth.”

“Ho,” he laughed. “No, lovely. Shim is a nothing. A gnat. A beetle. No, I am a Seeker. A servant of the Sublime. And you will serve me. Does that please you?”

“You’re not marked.”

“No, Seekers never are. We can’t announce our coming, now, can we?”

She swallowed. “They say Shim’s brought on a curse.”

“That he has,” Berosus replied. “And you’re going to help remove it.” He pulled the rough, black gloryhorn from its pouch. “Do you know what this is?”

“Not a simple horn,” she said, “or you wouldn’t have asked.”

She was smart. Brave. Oh, but he liked this one. He had indeed chosen well. “No, not a mere horn. It’s a weave. And like all weaves it needs soul to bring it to life. This one needs a lot of soul.”

He saw she understood what that meant, for the last of her feisty spirit drained away. She glanced down the hill. She was going to run; he could see it in her eyes. He gave her credit again. She was real quality. By this point many females would have been in a panic, in tears or begging him for mercy. But this one still had her wits.

He snatched her by the wrist. “Don’t spoil it. You’ll be remembered. I will remember you, this hill, the smell of the autumn leaves, and your eyes under the blue sky.”

She tried to wrench her arm free, but Berosus had an iron grip. Her tattoo marked her as property of the Mother and gave him access. He pushed through the barriers of her flesh to the soul within and felt her scream.

#

When Berosus finished, the husk of Jade’s body stared past him at the trees. Her body and the remnant soul which lingered there might live on for a few days, maybe even a few weeks, but there was no point in allowing that to occur. It would seek the familiar; it would walk back to her home, go about its old habits. Maybe it would sit in a favorite chair, maybe eat a piece of bread or go through the motions of drawing water. But it wouldn’t respond to the conversations of her loved ones or their later pleadings. All this would only raise questions, and questions at this point would not be useful. So Berosus killed the body with a sharp twist to the neck and laid it down upon the dried autumn grass at his feet.

The captain of Berosus’ dreadmen had brought a small meal. Berosus picked up a salted herring that lay in the cloth the captain had spread upon the grass and took a bite. “Life is meant to be lived consciously,” Berosus said, “deliberately.”

“Yes, Bright One,” the dreadmen said.

With his free hand, Berosus ran a handful of the female’s luxurious dark hair through his fingers. He traced her brow and the ridge of her cheek bone, traced the delicate curve of her lips. She was so beautiful in her repose. As graceful and sensuous as the rich petals of an iris.

“Every day a banquet is spread, Captain. And if you’re not careful, you’ll miss it.” Berosus disdained the Divines who sent others to do their work. Life was full of gifts, full of scenes such as these. And every day they missed it.

He took another bite of herring.

The captain said, “We have a report, Bright One.”

Berosus ignored him. The scene was perfect. The breeze blew gentle waves through the dry meadow grass about Jade. The heads of the grass nodded to and fro, as if reaching out to touch her.

He contemplated her a moment more then picked up the leather pouch that held the rough, black gloryhorn where the essential parts of the girl’s soul still lived on and put the strap over his neck.

The gloryhorn was the weave he would use to harvest the fruit of this land. He’d needed a soul to quicken it. He could have used anyone’s soul, but it pleased him to think of Jade in there, for every time he saw the horn, he would also think of her, this hill, and the grass rippling in the breeze. He would think of how poignant it was for something of such beauty to bring forth such destruction.

He finished the herring and sucked his two fingers clean. In the distance, the towers of Shim’s fortress rose above the trees. “What is the report?”

“The Mungonite priest has been spotted.”

Berosus nodded. “Good. We need to find him before he talks.”

“I’ve already dispatched men.”

Berosus looked out at Shim’s fortress. He’d been watching Shim’s army for the past six days, and his orders were to harvest every last one of them.

It was clear to him this army was sleth. They were using weaves of might, but none were in the pattern of any of the houses of Kains he knew. There were no Guardian Divines, no tethered skir, no Fire sacrifices. There simply were no signs that would indicate an enemy Mother was here, claiming this human herd. But there was the sleth Argoth and his Grove.

When Berosus had received his orders, he’d been informed by the glorious Mother of Mokad herself that this nest of sleth had killed two Divines and perhaps even one of her sisters. He saw now they were starting to build an army of dreadmen. It was all very impressive for sleth. But their time was at an end.

He looked down upon the body of Jade. She would have been harvested anyway. This outbreak of slethery had to be stopped before it grew too large. A small sleth nest could be useful at times in managing the herd or in attacking another Mother’s holdings. But an army of them would only cause problems. And you couldn’t just kill the leaders. Ideas and knowledge spread like disease. In this situation, it was best to simply destroy them all. 

Berosus smoothed one side of his long blond moustache and then the other. About him in the woods, his dreadmen kept watch. He’d received message via the weave that bound his chief general to him that the ships with the troops and the other Divines were making good progress. They expected to arrive in just a few days, which gave him just enought time to put himself in place.

In the distance, banners and wreaths were being hung at the fortress. He thought it fitting: on the morrow, the inhabitants of this land would celebrate the good gifts of the harvest with their annual apple dance feast. In truth, they were only fattening themselves for the real harvest.

Harvesting humans was essentially the same as harvesting any animal. You gathered them together. Then you killed them. Like many social animals, humans banded together when under threat. Provide the right motivation, and the herd would gather itself.

“Captain,” he said. “Tomorrow evening at the feast, we set things in motion. You will send in someone with poison. Let him clearly demonstrate our intent.”

“It will be done, Bright One.”

Berosus took in a great breath of the sweet air. The day was brisk, the sky sunny and clear. He hoped the sunshine held. It was such fine weather for slaughter.

Edit. See, it’s already changed. I had two versions when I posted this blog. I let Nellie read both. And she reports that this one created much more interest (curiosity, in this case) much faster. Sigh. It’s a good thing I’m taking a break.

1.   The Harvester

The young girl was beautiful. Dark hair. Stunning jade eyes. Clear skin the color of caramel. But her body was merely a husk now because Berosus had removed the vast majority of her soul.

The husk of her body and the remnant soul which lingered there might live on for a few days, maybe even a few weeks, but there was no point in allowing that to occur. The body would seek the familiar; it would walk back to its home, go about its old habits. Maybe it would sit in a favorite chair, maybe eat a piece of bread or go through the motions of drawing water. But it wouldn’t respond to the conversations of her loved ones or their later pleadings. All this would only raise questions, and questions at this point would be inconvenient. So Berosus killed the girl’s body with a sharp twist to the neck and laid it down upon the dried autumn grass at his feet.

The captain of Berosus’ dreadmen had brought a small meal. Berosus picked up a salted herring that lay in the cloth the captain had spread upon the grass and took a bite. “Life is meant to be lived consciously,” Berosus said, “deliberately.”

“Yes, Bright One,” the dreadmen said.

With his free hand, Berosus ran a handful of the female’s luxurious dark hair through his fingers. He traced her brow and the ridge of her cheek bone, traced the delicate curve of her lips. She was so beautiful in her repose. As graceful and sensuous as the rich petals of an iris.

“Every day a banquet is spread, Captain. And if you’re not careful, you’ll miss it.” Berosus disdained the Divines who sent others to do their work. Life was full of gifts, full of scenes such as these. And every day they missed it.

He took another bite of herring.

The captain said, “We have a report, Bright One.”

Berosus ignored him. The scene was perfect. The breeze blew gentle waves through the dry meadow grass about Jade. The heads of the grass nodded to and fro, as if reaching out to touch her.

He contemplated her a moment more then picked up the leather pouch that held the rough, black gloryhorn where the essential parts of the girl’s soul still lived on and put the strap over his neck.

The gloryhorn was the weave he would use to harvest the fruit of this land. He’d needed a soul to quicken it. He could have used anyone’s soul, but it pleased him to think of Jade in there, for every time he saw the horn, he would also think of her, this hill, and the grass rippling in the breeze. He would think of how poignant it was for something of such beauty to bring forth such destruction.

He finished the herring and sucked his two fingers clean. In the distance, the towers of Shim’s fortress rose above the trees. “What is the report?”

“The Mungonite priest has been spotted.”

Berosus nodded. “Good. We need to find him before he talks.”

“I’ve already dispatched men.”

Berosus looked out at Shim’s fortress. He’d been watching Shim’s army for the past six days, and his orders were to harvest every last one of them.

It was clear to him this army was sleth. They were using weaves of might, but none were in the pattern of any of the houses of Kains he knew. There were no Guardian Divines, no tethered skir, no Fire sacrifices. There simply were no signs that would indicate an enemy Mother was here, claiming this human herd. But there was the sleth Argoth and his Grove.

When Berosus had received his orders, he’d been informed by the glorious Mother of Mokad herself that this nest of sleth had killed two Divines and perhaps even one of her sisters. He saw now they were starting to build an army of dreadmen. It was all very impressive for sleth. But their time was at an end.

He looked down upon the body of Jade. She had solid bone structure, wide hips for bearing children, even teeth. She was good stock. In regular circumstances, she would have grown up to bear many fine children and increase the herd. She would have provided many souls as meat for the Mothers. But she would have been harvested anyway. This outbreak of slethery had to be stopped before it grew too large. A small sleth nest could be useful at times in managing the herd or in attacking another Mother’s holdings. But an army of them would only cause problems. And you couldn’t just kill the leaders. Ideas and knowledge spread like disease. In this situation, it was best to simply destroy them all. 

Berosus smoothed one side of his long blond moustache and then the other. About him in the woods, his dreadmen kept watch. He’d received message via the weave that bound his chief general to him that the ships with the troops and the other Divines were making good progress. They expected to arrive in just a few days, which gave him just enought time to put himself in place.

In the distance, banners and wreaths were being hung at the fortress. He thought it fitting: on the morrow, the inhabitants of this land would celebrate the good gifts of the harvest with their annual apple dance feast. In truth, they were only fattening themselves for the real harvest.

Harvesting humans was essentially the same as harvesting any animal. You gathered them together. Then you killed them. Like many social animals, humans banded together when under threat. Provide the right motivation, and the herd would gather itself.

“Captain,” he said. “Tomorrow evening at the feast, we set things in motion. You will send in someone with poison. Let him clearly demonstrate our intent.”

“It will be done, Bright One.”

Berosus took in a great breath of the sweet air. The day was brisk, the sky sunny and clear. He hoped the sunshine held. It was such fine weather for slaughter.

***

In other news, I was invited to present at The Book Academy conference that will be held at UVU in Orem, UT on Thursday, September 30th. It looks like it’s going to be a great time.