Song of the Week

Kate Bush, “Waking the Witch”

Good morning! I hope you’re well, wherever you are.

There will be a new chapter of The Book of the New Moon Door up on Patreon tomorrow! Thank you for being patient as I get back to our regular posting schedule. We’ll be back to normal (one chapter on Patreon and one chapter here) next week.

If you’re a regular reader, you are probably aware that I have three ongoing projects (Journey to the Water, The Book of the New Moon Door, and the script for The Well Below the Valley), and I really don’t have time to take on more, but new ideas keep coming up! I may or may not have a space opera, a cyberpunk mystery, and possibly an urban fantasy in the works. I just want to be writing all the things, but my time management skills are not up to the task.

Please send well wishes to the lettuce in my garden, as the next three days are supposed to be over 90 degrees Fahrenheit, and if you like what you read here, tell your friends about me! When it comes to books, word of mouth is still the best, even in this digital world.

Thanks for being here, and have an excellent week.

Journey to the Water Interlude Two: The Spirit Wilds

Journey to the Water cover image: three evergreen trees stand on a hillside, shrouded in bluish fog. Subtitle reads: the sequel to Beyond the Frost-Cold Sea.

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Khalim was lost.

The sky was dark, and glittering with stars he did not recognize. A forest of huge trees, older than the earth itself, encircled him with darkness and the smell of green things growing.

He felt neither hunger nor thirst. That was a small mercy. Though he knew it must be an illusion, his feet pressed into the rich soil, and a cold, damp wind tugged at his clothes. He had acquired, in the center of his tunic, a ragged, burnt hole, through which the chill cut at his skin. It was the memory of the conjured lance of Malang, the war god of Phyreios, who had recognized the god inside Khalim and sought to slay him. Khalim remembered how the lance had burned, and the force of it had taken him off his feet. The cold was far preferable.

Voices filled the wood, chattering in languages he did not understand, mingling with the calls of birds and the low, threatening growls of unseen beasts. The undergrowth shifted and moved, and shadowy shapes darted in and out of sight like small, quick animals. Khalim thought he had heard someone call his name, some time ago, but he had not heard it again.

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The Book of the New Moon Door: Part Two, Chapter Six

Never

The Book of the New Moon Door cover image: A book with yellowing, wrinkled pages lies open on an old wooden desk, with a sprig of lavender lying in the center.

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Isabel turns to the door. Darkness has fallen over the chapel, and a black abyss stretches between her and where the constable, presumably, is trying to get in. The church is haunted. Maybe the incongruousness of a ghost on holy ground will delay the authorities’ realization of the fact, but the signs are obvious.

The knock of a heavy fist sounds again. Geray gets up and floats through the black, his form disappearing like a breath on a cold day. A howl of agony shakes the chapel.

There’s no way they can’t hear this. Isabel shelters her candle, the only light remaining in the church, with both hands. Her fingers ache with cold.

Geray reappears, accompanied by a chorus of distant screams, both animal and human. “They’re going to knock down your door if you don’t answer,” he says. “They have a battering ram and everything.”

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Journey to the Water Chapter XIV: The City on the Hill

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I climbed out from beneath the temple floor. The riches of the pirate Abraxas of Lore lay at my feet, and my companions pored over it, dreams of finery and rich foods and expeditions to distant shores passing between them in whispers. My thoughts were only with the dragon harpoon, and how if I had such a weapon in my possession on the far northern sea, perhaps I would have slain the lind-worm as I had hoped to do.

Even the gods could not change the past. I had it now, and it sang to me, a song of dragon flight and the hands of heroes. I was the last of many to carry this weapon. When the dragon who had given it shape had hatched from its stone egg, the world had been young, covered in water and fire. It was with reverence that I replaced the oil cloth covering the harpoon and fashioned a sling out of rope to carry it on my back.

“I don’t need a share of the treasure,” I told Hamilcar. “I only want this weapon.”

He looked up at me and gave an expansive shrug. “If that’s your choice, then, you can have it. Gods know I wouldn’t be able to find a buyer for months.”

“My friend,” said Halvor, “you need to learn the value of money.”

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The Book of the New Moon Door: Part Two, Chapter Five

Holy Ground

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“There is another ghost in this house.”

Isabel wakes with a start and sees nothing. It’s grown dark, which means she’s slept much longer than she planned, and she’s not entirely sure what day it is now. The translucent form of Arden Geray hovers beside her narrow bed, the sockets of his eyes as dark as the night outside.

For however many blissful, oblivious hours she was asleep, she had forgotten about him. She groans and pushes herself up. “What are you talking about?”

“A spirit,” he says, enunciating carefully as though he is speaking to a child. “It’s just arrived and it’s none too pleased. What are you going to do about it, Sentinel?”

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Journey to the Water Chapter XIII: Empty Salmacha

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“Where is everyone?” Hamilcar asked the crew, the island itself, or the gods, giving voice to the unspoken question we had in common.

No one answered.

A high tide had carried our ship to the harbor, but the six thatched-roof houses and solitary central structure stood well clear of the water, raised up on wooden beams against the possibility of a flood. Their doors were shut tight, and their windows covered. A wind from the sea moved across the sand, but the village was otherwise still.

I led Bran by his halter to the deck and down the plank to the dock, keeping my hand below his chin so he could not turn his head and see the terrifying expanse of ocean surrounding him on three sides. Once his hooves touched solid ground, his body relaxed, and so did my grip. I, on the other hand, felt a nervous energy like crackling lightning in my bones. There was a threat here in this silent place.

“I don’t like this,” Halvor muttered.

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The Book of the New Moon Door: Part Two, Chapter Four

Prodigal Son

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Berend takes a sudden, involuntary breath. Pain digs into his ribs. He kicks at the bedclothes, the ache moving down his legs, and tries to sit up.

The nurse’s hands on his shoulders are firm and heavy. “Be still,” she says. “It’s all right.”

It is most assuredly not all right. At best, there’s a member of the illustrious and unscrupulous Belisia family here to threaten his life, limbs, and everyone he cares about—a dwindling number, these days, and one he can count on one hand, but still. At worst, someone is here to kill him.

“My effects,” he says. Talking moves the pain up underneath his lungs. “Where are my things?” His pistol almost certainly isn’t loaded, and there’s no chance he could lift his saber in this state, but his mysterious visitor doesn’t know that.

“They’re locked away on the lower floor,” the nurse says, pushing him into the bed. “What’s wrong?” Her hand moves to his wrist, gentle but strong as a vise.

A shadow darkens the entrance to Berend’s curtained room. He looks up, his pulse pounding in his ears and under the nurse’s fingers. At least she’s here. There will be a witness.

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Journey to the Water Chapter XII: The Lady of Osona

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The first night I spent on board the ship, I dreamed.

I floated in the abyss before the gate of bone, with blackness pressing around me and the shape of the goddess Nashurru moving in the depths below. The water was cold, and my body ached with it, my limbs stiff and shivering. I kicked my legs and reached my arms toward the gate, but the chill pierced my bones and filled my belly with ice no matter how much I moved. In the vision, I had felt no need to breathe, but now my chest contracted painfully, sucking against nothing. The bright white of the bones blurred as my vision faded. At last, I could withstand no more, and I inhaled frigid water. It burned my chest and stole away the last of my sight.

I would die here, I thought, and my bones would join the gate as Nashurru looked on, indifferent. I would never see Khalim again.

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The Book of the New Moon Door: Part Two, Chapter Three

Questions

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Everything hurts.

It’s a sure sign that Berend is alive. He’s never heard of Ondir’s realm being a painful one, though he’d have to ask the Sentinel to be certain. A high, shaky note rings in both ears. Beyond it, muffled voices and footsteps move in and out of his awareness. There is light, also, pressing against the lid of his good eye.

What a beautiful day it will be, he thinks, but when he opens his eye, pain shoots through his skull. The ringing in his ears reaches an agonizing crescendo. He closes both the eye and the empty socket, squeezing them shut, and the pain subsides to a dull throb.

All he can remember is Arden Geray—serial murderer, mad sorcerer, and destroyer of souls—and how Berend shot him in the chest and cut him down. After that, something had slammed into Berend’s body, and he must have lost consciousness. The brightness tells him that it must be broad daylight now, so he’s been out for several hours, at least.

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How did we get here?

I’m doing a challenge on Instagram! As part of it, I was asked to share my journey to becoming a writer, so I thought I would share it here as well.

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