Author Appleton

Writing. Fantasy. Sci-fi. Mystery

Fantasy

Cover reveal! Neverqueen2

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It has been exciting to receive feedback from more readers with each passing month who’ve greatly enjoyed delving into The Sword of the Dragon expansion series Neverqueen. Many have loved the characters Violet and Alfor, and the prophetess along the Eiderveis River. But as many questions as that novel answered, it opened up even more. There is so much more to tell in the Neverqueen Saga… and I am pleased to now reveal the final cover for Neverqueen2. This book releases Spring/Summer 2016!

For this cover I used the same artist as my last two. His name is Benjamin Roque and you are already familiar with his work. He illustrated The Phantom’s Blade (The Sword of the Dragon book 4) as well as Neverqueen (book 1). This work is, I think, the best yet.Neverqueen2 fantasy book coverWhen approaching the artist about this project I was concerned with getting several elements right, the most important being the design of a new original fantasy creature I crafted for this novel: the Cat Beast. With the face of a cat, ram’s horns on his head, a body the size of a dragon, feathered wings, and a spiked tail. This beast is a rival in battle to many a dragon. His name is Destrono and he is a pawn of a wizard whom you are familiar with.

Neverqueen2 will release in paperback and on Kindle e-reader Spring/Summer 2016.

Q: Are you going to share this book cover with your fantasy-loving friends? (-; Please do! Thanks in advance!

Unspoken laws of fantasy fiction

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While fiction is itself an exploration of human imagination (and some might add an exploration of ingenuity as well) it must remain bound by laws if it is to impact the reader’s thinking in a positive way. The writer’s philosophies, persuasions, convictions, all of these things create the laws that bind their fiction. And this is a necessary difficulty for the writer because without laws fiction can confuse minds, even persuade them of non-factual things as factual. The unreal and imagined can be made to seem more important than reality.

If a reader is of a confused mind, or a troubled mental state, they are prone to falling for falsehoods. If a reader is, for example doubtful of God’s existence or is inclined to wish that God were not a supreme authority in the universe, the right fictional story could turn their mind against that authority. Fiction can create an excuse, which is a means of escape from the reality.

Truth and lie can be confused in story in such a way that it reinforces confusion in the reader. It may even persuade them that they are not accountable to the same laws that we know to be right and good.

For example, let’s say we have a fantasy story where the main character, a male protagonist, goes through multiple tragedies. With each tragedy he becomes angrier. First at the perpetrator of the tragedy, then at himself for not stopping the tragedy, and then at God for not stopping the tragedy, and then at God for not giving him the means to stop the tragedy. “If there was a good God then why would this have happened?” he would ask himself. Then later, as the story progresses, he submits that there is no God because cause A should have led to effect B. Therefore God, if he exists, is not good but indifferent or, worse, is himself evil.

Now to most readers this sort of transformation in the protagonist’s mind would seem tragic. We would see him as slipping into self-delusion as a result of his reaction to the tragedies he’d experienced. We would pity that protagonist, perhaps enjoy the journey as he seeks out revenge on his adversaries, but little else.

But to other readers this transformation becomes one of their own minds. They who suffer tragedy and feel just as the protagonist does. Instead of blaming the fallen sinful world in which the events occurred, they blame God. These readers find themselves relating to the protagonist, even learning from him despite the fact that he is a fictional character.

This is the power of fiction. This is the power of storytelling. This is the heavy responsibility of the writer.

To show that the man who falls to this is not a hero, but instead to show the negative consequences his thinking. Or, better still, to show a protagonist who rises above the tragedies and humbly accepts his bitter role in the created world. These are unspoken laws of fantasy fiction, to deliver truth and instruct in good and not in evil. To demonstrate what we should be and to show the consequences of wrong actions and even wrong beliefs. We look to show the good and encourage the faithful.

Q: How do you think writers should deal with unspoken laws of fantasy storytelling?

Backstage pass! Specter: the story continues

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Often when writing a fantasy story the original drafts do not contain all of the key elements that flesh out a good tale. But in future drafts as the story evolves, especially if you are a seat-of-the-pants writer, new elements and even new characters come into play. When writing my first novel Swords of the Six I created an utterly unexpected character with which fans of the books fell in love. He is the most popular protagonist, yet his story (for that series) came to an end in Key of Living Fire. Many people have wondered, “What happened to Specter?”

For a few years I have toyed with the idea of following Specter on his journey away from the events in The Sword of the Dragon series. Now, I am pleased to say, the opening chapter to a forthcoming episode following Specter is written. This will likely flesh out into a novel of its own, but for now I am writing it as a longer short story. One that you will find a satisfying addition to the fantasy genre. For now it is titled Specter: By the Portal’s Glow and I am looking to release this Spring 2016.

Here is a tease of what is to come:

Specter: By the Portal’s Glow

Warmth enveloped Specter’s body, cradling him through waves of light and color as the portal sped him where it would. The darkness of the Hidden Realm was left far behind. Ribbons of light formed a veritable rainbow upon which he walked. Portal travel was not new to him, he let it speed him on and waited to see what undiscovered destination it held in store for him.

A few hours or more were lost to him. He waited for the destination to emerge, for never had a portal journey continued for such an extended time. He thought with satisfaction of the frustrated creature that had tried to pursue him. The white beast had been monstrous. Even the dragon Valorian, which vile beast Specter had long dreaded, had proved but a nuisance to the creature as it broke the dragon.

This path of light now spirited him out of the creature’s reach. Not that he was a coward. Specter allowed himself a smile as he lifted before his face the prized skeleton key that the water skeel had sought to obtain. Fire played on the key, burning from within its bronze surface. With this now in his hand the power of living fire would remain sealed in the Hold. It would remain accessible only to the stouthearted man wielding the sword of the dragon.

Perhaps now was the time to bring Specter’s life to an appropriately humble retirement. He glanced at his other fist, flexing his ice fingers. It was a strange thing but wondrous. Where his hand had been severed he had grown one of ice from the realm of the Water Skeels. And his icy fist grasped the two-handed sword of hard crystal that he had crafted from water. A thing of beauty, he had carved through Valorian’s host with this weapon. He had formed it in the image of the sword he had wielded a thousand years ago. It was time to lay this weapon aside, to leave behind the nemesis that he had been to the Grim Reaper. That vile being was dead by his hand, its skull shattered and scattered to the wind in the city of Netroth. And Specter’s pupil, Auron, thinking himself capable of continuing in the Reaper’s steps, now lay dead in the Hidden Realm.

“I saved you once, Auron,” Specter whispered to the vast streams of color. “I saved you and your demise was just. I will not weep at the death of one as vile as you. Instead I embrace the future of those like Ilfedo and Oganna who will seek righteousness and justice.”

In the midst of Specter’s musings the streams of color flashed with angry white. Over his shoulder he glimpsed the tunnel of light collapsing in his wake. His eyes widened in horror. He possessed knowledge spanning over a thousand years, yet he could not recall even a mention of anything similar to this occurrence.

The walls of his tunnel of light thinned. He glimpsed the black depths of space stretching in all directions. Stars flashed by in a blur, for his passage among them was swift. His heart thudded in his chest, such as he had not felt in a long time. He was helpless. Trapped. He had chosen wrong. By stepping into the portal he had succeeded in preserving the power of living fire, yet invariably he had doomed himself by passing into a failing portal.

He held the key of living fire before his face once again, frowning as he studied it. Could it be used to fuel the portal to propel him to the end of this journey? He shook his head, stuffing the key into the lining of his cloak. At least here, in the black depths of the sky, the key would remain safe. There was no greater hiding place than this.

Kneeling in the shimmering current, he resigned himself to the care of God. Nowhere else could he turn. He closed his eyes against the tears his heart longed to bleed. He released his dream for his own future life of quiet, and the possibility of finding a life of peace. War had been his existence. War, treachery, and violence.

Suddenly the floor dropped from under him. He opened his eyes as he tumbled headfirst down a side shaft of light. Behind him the air screamed out of the light tunnel. As he rolled down the side shaft he caught glimpses of the passage vanishing into the void of space.

To be continued (in great detail)…

Q: Would you like to see a Specter novel?

Short stories this Christmas!

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Christmas is my favorite time of year. When I was growing up I populated my wish list with books. One thing I dreamed of was writing books that other people would want to put on their Christmas lists. It was five years ago now (which is hard for me to believe) when I had signed a publishing contract with AMG Publishers and I had no books to sell until they released Swords of the Six. In the time between I bundled together my short stories into a new book titled By Sword By Right. It sold surprisingly well for a collection of short fiction, and ever since then I’ve always referred to it as my bathroom reader.

Originally this book was available in paperback as well as on Kindle, but the distributor I had placed it with charged an annual fee so I discontinued the print version. From time to time I still receive requests for By Sword By Right in paperback, and now Amazon’s platform has enabled me to re-release it in time for Christmas!

There is something magical about short stories. From my perspective they are more difficult to write. Everything for me turns into a long-form writing. Short stories usually sit in my “idea bucket” to be later transformed into novels. But with By Sword By Right I put my journey as a writer under the x-ray machine. I included stories that were some of my best writings, and some that were written prior to the launching of my writing career.

For Christmas this year if you are one of those readers who wants something to take into the bathroom or into a closet for a quick read, By Sword By Right has an assortment of fantasy, science fiction, fairy tales, biblical, and even allegory. This book demonstrates the diversity of my writing interests and will give you an idea of where all of my stories will take you. From dark underground worlds to surface utopias, and even into the interstellar divides.

There is no limit to where the imagination can take us. And we can explore the depths and heights of imagination through short stories in the moments that reading longer fiction prohibits.

Q: Do you enjoy short speculative fiction?

The Phantom’s Blade now available!

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My new fantasy novel is available in paperback and on Kindle! From across the sea the Maiden Voyage has failed to return to the Hemmed Land, leaving Ilfedo to wonder at the fate of his beloved Warrioresses… This story focuses on Ilfedo as none of the previous novels have. We see him for the grief-ridden man that he is… and we see his choice to rise above that grief and rejoice in the choices he’s made.

The Hemmed Land is in political confusion thanks to Vortain’s dissidence. As mayor of Ilfedo’s chief city Vortain holds great political sway. He openly opposes Ilfedo’s proposal to form a rescue expedition to bring the people of Dresdyn to the Hemmed Land, and regards the young woman Ilfedo brought back from the Hidden Realm with deep suspicion. Even more strong is his opposition to Lord Ilfedo’s declaration that, as the albino long ago prophecied, the entire population must seek a new homeland.

Holding himself to a promise, Ilfedo will not be swayed from seeking the people of Dresdyn. His allies are strong now. Few in the land hold the wisdom of Brother Hersis, and fewer still command the same respect in the military as Lord Ombre, and none have risen so high in the esteem of the people as Oganna.

An expedition launches to seek out the people beneath the desert sands, and only Ilfedo truly recognizes the nature of the enemy they face.

Please share with your friends and fellow fantasy enthusiasts! Christmas is a great time of year to continue this epic story.

My intention with “The Phantom’s Blade”

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I do not write stories simply to tell them. I do not look for the stories to merely entertain. I want them to have staying power and so they reflect the moments of my life. My next story explores the grim reality of loneliness and the hope of companionship. It shapes a future that is ever brighter because we must place our hope not in ourselves, but in the strength we find in doing good. Enter The Phantom’s Blade (The Sword of the Dragon book 4).

November 6th is the date! Finally it’s time to continue The Sword of the Dragon series and see what happens next with Ilfedo, Oganna, and Ombre.

I am so excited for this! It’s been a few years that I’ve been working on the material for this novel. The hardest part for me when writing Key of Living Fire was to leave a slew of newly-found characters in the underground city of Dresdyn. There are elements of the Hemmed Land’s history that have long hinted that they came from a land long lost. A history where technology was far in advance of what Ilfedo’s people currently understand as they exist in a near-medieval condition.

This book was written with sweat and tears… almost literally 😉 as I struggled to balance the many things going on in my life. Family, work, illness, moving to South Carolina, my fourth child being born, and now moving into our first house. It’s an exciting time as God has opened the doors so that now I can build a home business of writing, speaking, and editing. When your read my novels you are reading a reflection of what has happened and is happening in my life. My confusion, my revelations, my times of pain and of joy. The characters are put through much so that I can continue to evolve as a writer. So that my writing is not merely the telling of stories, but rather the sharing of visions striven for and attained.

Stories change hearts. Stories make a difference in our lives and in our culture.

So be sure to mark your calendar and warm a spot on your bookshelf for The Phantom’s Blade (The Sword of the Dragon book 4). Available on November 6th 2015.

How Star Wars impacted my thinking on stories

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I was probably around nine years old. I remember sitting in my grandfather’s living room, my eyes glued to his television. He had an extensive collection of VHS tapes and he was fond of science fiction. That day he played Star Wars: A New Hope… and with a few swings of his lightsaber Alec Guiness convinced me that Ben Kenobi was the coolest sort of hero.

Yep, I’ve been a fan ever since! I love looking back at that moment when I saw Star Wars for the first time. I can recapture that sense of amazement experienced only in that first moment of discovery. I already loved stories. I read extensively and wrote quite a few of my own fictional pieces, yet up to that point I think space opera and fantasy had not entered my realm of creative thinking. My first brush with anything close to it had been Pilgrim’s Progress, an allegory of the Christian life that feels fantasy-ish.

In Star Wars I recognized the value of different strong personalities in story. Han Solo of course would not let anything water down his swashbuckling attitude. He opposed everyone on his team and loved everyone at the same time. Ben Kenobi took every perilous encounter in sober stride, wisely weighing the consequences of his actions and of those around him. He was feeble yet in his eyes was a playful, indomitable will. He would not be denied. Even R2D2 and C3PO possessed unique personalities that made them generationally memorable.

To my young mind these characters were the catalyst for an amazing array of story possibilities. I remember staying up late at night telling my own Star Wars spinoff stories to my brother and sister. In childish fun these spinoffs often degenerated into silliness. (I remember one particular tale where Princess Leia met up with Emperor Palpatine and turned her own powers on him, thoroughly decimating him).

Looking back I realize that all of those silly spinoffs were the continued growth of my creativity.

Star Wars stories helped me realize that storytelling has no limits except those that we place upon it. What you imagine, you can create. What you fear, you can face. What you aspire to be, you can become. Strange places that don’t even exist, you can visit.

The imagination is limitless and its power is exploration to reveal to us the elements of story that matter to us. The elements of story that define the choices we make. The characters whose interactions help us understand how we want to interact with people in real life. The characters that help us understand why we find certain people more interesting than others.

Q: How did the stories you enjoyed as a child impact the person you are today?

 

Sneak preview! The Phantom’s Blade

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First draft of The Phantom’s Blade is done! Coming this Fall 2015 this novel is the highly anticipated fourth installment in The Sword of the Dragon series. I am pleased to present this sneak peak at the novel, its opening chapter. Enjoy!

ThePhantom'sBlade coverThe Phantom’s Blade (The Sword of the Dragon series) book 4

Chapter 1: Despair beyond the Sea

Caritha gazed out over the inlet’s deep blue water to the sea beyond, and she sank to her knees on the sand. Despite the clear sky on this cool afternoon, the sea boiled around the splintered hull of the Maiden Voyage. Sea serpents raised their heads as the coils of their slimy dark bodies squeezed the ship and foamed the water. Somewhere beneath the waves sank the bodies of the captain and the crew. Bravely they had fought to ensure that the last Warrioress made it to dry ground.

Sweat had dripped from the captain’s thick nose as salt water sprayed his face. He had driven a pike into one serpent’s body, drawing its attention away from her. “Get to land, lass! The ship is lost,” he had said.

“No! My sisters and I can fight with you.” She had aimed her sword at another of the creatures as it twisted its length around the ship’s bow. The sword glowed dull orange, but no matter how hard she tried she could throw no energy from it.

“No!” She knew then, knew all too well that her gift to Ombre had cost her more than she had imagined it would.

The deck had buckled, throwing her against the rail. Water had rushed beneath decks and the captain had braced himself, his large feet wide apart. “Fight? You cannot fight in the water. This ship is going down. You have only minutes to make up your mind.”

Another serpent had leaped out of the sea, smashing its length over the prow of the Maiden Voyage, and Caritha had glanced at the monster. But the captain had somehow moved across the splintering deck and grabbed her in his thick arms.

“When this ship goes down the serpents will make short work of all of us, my lady. With God as my witness I’ll not let you die when I could have saved your life.” He had heaved her over the ship’s side. When she had floundered from under the water and her head had broken the surface, a serpent had swum under her kicking feet. But it had ignored her and rammed the wooden ship. “Get to shore while there’s time,” the captain had yelled at her.

She had felt tears stinging her eyes as she, with difficulty, sheathed her sword and swam toward an inlet surrounded by mountains of ice. Her last glimpse of the captain, he and a member of his crew were desperately clubbing a serpent’s body as it coiled around the main mast and snapped it.

Now, standing on that unknown shore with her sisters, she felt hope sink with the Maiden Voyage. Not only had they failed to find a land suitable for relocation, until now they had found no land at all, and now that they had . . . They had landed in a place of apparent desolation and the cold wind whispered down the slopes of the sharp peaks that glistened like diamonds in Yimshi’s light. They were cut off from civilization, far from home without means of returning. It had been a long sea voyage. She couldn’t even guess how far they were from home.

Laura stepped up beside her and laid a hand on her shoulder. Rose’el trailed Levena and Evela as they too joined her.

Rose’el growled as she grabbed fistfuls of her dress and wrung water out the material. Her eyes narrowed as she glanced over her shoulder at the frozen world of white. “I don’t care what’s in that sea. I am going to swim back across, find a little house in the Hemmed Land, force a nice gentleman to marry me, and then settle down until I am old and very, very gray.”

“Be serious for once, Rose’el.” Caritha turned toward the ice mountain that rose a couple hundred feet away from the water. She studied its jagged form, the smooth polish of its surface, and she dropped to the ground and punched the sand.

Laura knelt beside her and rubbed her back. “It will be all right, Caritha. Do not fear. Remember what Father said to Evela when we started our mission to find Kesla?”

Caritha remembered. She recollected the powerful white dragon turning his pink eyes on her and her sisters, as they faced the portal to the Eiderveis River. She had been merely seventeen years old at the time. “I will be watching over you even when you cannot see me,” he had said.

She shook Laura off and rose. “Don’t you see? Things are different now.”

“No they are not!” Laura said.

“Look around, my sister. Better yet, take a look at the sea and tell me if you see anyone alive. Where are the captain and the crew of the Maiden Voyage? Do their lives matter to you? And what of Ilfedo, Oganna, and Ombre? They are waiting for our return before they set out to find the dragon Venom-fier. We have failed and they have no way of knowing.”

Laura and Evela hung their heads. Levena sniffed.

“Feel glad that we are alive,” Caritha said and covered her face with her hands. “But weep that so many have died on our account.”

She withdrew her hands from her face. Why hadn’t she noticed before that the shore on which she stood and the mountains of ice . . . they were familiar somehow? White clouds rose over the ice mountains, sailing over the peaks and filling the sky. A frigid wind caressed her arms, threatening to turn her wet dress into ice.

The sandy ground trembled and the mountains of ice crackled, sounding like miniature releases of thunder. Something living warbled in the distance. Between the mountains before them a long-necked creature slid into view. As it drew closer, Caritha caught her breath, for the creature was enormous with four flippers for limbs. It was as white as Albino, with a bulbous blubbery body.

From the creature’s nostrils water shot forth and struck her. Her sisters fell back and rolled into the inlet. But she drew her sword and closed her eyes, with all her might focusing on deflecting the water. The sword fed off her dragon blood, splitting the water to either side of her. The creature kept up its deluge until Rose’el and Levena stumbled to Caritha’s side and joined their blades with hers. Blue energy blasted from the united blades, knifed through the water and struck the creature’s head.

The creature warbled as the water ceased to flow from its nostrils. It lumbered back a hundred feet and warbled toward the mountains. Suddenly the mountains filled with innumerable warbles and another of the creature’s kind slid into view. Only, when it approached, it loomed even larger than its companion.

Its head rose far above them and it smiled down upon them. Needle-like teeth ringed its enormous mouth. It dwarfed even the great albino himself.

“Daughters of the great white dragon, how foolish of you to come to my lands. Do you not know that all who come here are never heard from again? Not even your dragon father could save you from the fate you have brought upon yourselves, for he dares not touch me. I am Cromlin, king of the water skeels, and today your lives are at an end.”

His nostrils cast water upon them and, as they threw their swords up to block the deluge, beams of light shot from his eyes. The beams cut through their defenses, and struck them to the ground.

They ran toward him, swords aimed for his thick body. They reached him and stabbed. The blades sank up to their hilts, yet drew no blood. Cromlin gazed down upon them and warbled, while his companion did the same. The sound rang into the mountains, into their ears, and built its intensity.

Pressure built in her ears. Caritha saw first Evela and then Rose’el drop to the ground, putting their hands to the sides of their heads. Soon she, too, succumbed.

Cromlin lumbered toward the inlet and smashed his fore-flippers together. A wave of sound struck Caritha’s chest, forcing air out of her lungs.

Addressing them in a voice that rang around them and into the ice mountains, Cromlin said, “You have fought worthy of a Water Skeel.” He lowered his neck, bringing his head within ten feet of their heads. “But you are no match for me!”

Caritha felt exhausted. She tried to summon her dragon blood. It warmed, then cooled inside her. She glanced at her sisters, but their faces froze in terror and tears formed in their eyes. Cromlin pulled back his head and a stream of water from his nostrils slammed into Caritha’s chest. The impact threw her and her back crushed against a boulder. The water continued to storm upon her, unending and unyielding. Every bone in her body conformed to the stone against which she was pressed, painfully stretching and bruising her body.

Beside her, Rose’el was pressed into the sand beside Levena, unable to move from under the water’s force. On Caritha’s other side Laura and Evela raised their swords into Cromlin’s onslaught.

Painfully raising her own sword, Caritha touched her sword tip to theirs. “Join with me, my sisters!” A wall of energy formed between the swords, a wall that surged against the water and turned it away.

Cromlin laughed and bore down upon her. His gargantuan body slammed into the beach. He slapped a flipper atop Rose’el and Levena, and struck Caritha, Laura, and Evela with the other. She might as well have attacked a wall as defend against so large a flipper. It rammed her against the boulder, and then withdrew.

“Your puny powers cannot compare to the might I wield!” Cromlin slid to the inlet and dug his flippers into the water. Five large cubes of ice formed between his flippers and he effortlessly plucked them out and chucked them at Caritha and her sisters.

Caritha glanced to either side, but her sisters had been separated too far from her to intercede. As a cube shot toward her, time seemed to slow. She watched it somersault through the air and felt, as it were, ice darts precede the object. Stabbing pain peppered the front of her body. She could barely move.

Tears that she longed to cry refused to come as she struggled with her sword. At last she managed to sheath it. She reached with a trembling hand into her pocket and untied the precious ring that Ombre had given her, slipping it onto her finger. Her body temperature dropped and icicles formed on her hair, hanging in front of her face—she was freezing alive!

But with her last moment of consciousness, as the end embraced her, she laid her hand against her chest and looked down at the engagement ring. The diamond glistened as ice covered it. She should have said yes to Ombre a long time ago. Now it was too late. “But I do love you,” she whispered. “And if God had allowed me to see you again, I would have been fully yours.”