A bit of venting on next published event

This is not asking advice just venting a little.

Hmmm, I have one book at an editors-she is probably a bit over a quarter of the way through. So when she does finish it, maybe in three to five weeks I will still have to go back over it. Most probably will take me hours, if I don't have to rewrite anything major. I have done this before so I know that I mean hours and hours of work. I have a cover for it already. It has been sitting around for over a year while I looked for a cover artist and an editor that didn't charge tons of money. So now even though it is finally in the process I still have to wait. and wait some more.

Then I have a second novel that is in almost the same situation. Except no editor yet, and the cover is being worked on even though almost done. But it has sat the same length of time and it is longer so it will take longer and cost more to edit and then to go over. Add hours to the hours and hours. Oh yes, I still need to decide on how I want to the chapters. Just leave the 40 some shorter ones or combine them. I wrote the book as a serial on another site which is why the chapters are like they are. It does need a little revising since I changed my mind some something and even though I think I went over the whole thing a couple times I need double check that. So it might have to wait half a year more before I can publish it. It might be my best novel yet. Or so I had thought when I revised it. And I have to wait and wait and wait some more.

About my writing currently

Interesting what one can find when looking for something else in my WIP folder. Stories and more that I had forgotten about. A while back I set out to Indie publish some story sets. I was reminded of one set I decided to publish and found today.

This one is 12 stories each inspired by the same picture. A while back one guy would post a picture of the day. A speculative drawing-painting-composite-that he found. A couple of his followers had started writing mini stories to go with the pic. I decide to join them, but in a few weeks my stories got longer. Still very short but longer than mini. Anyway one day he posted this pic of a dark old looking castle set on a short hill in what could be a desert. A large full moon shone behind and right above it. I posted a comment that said that could be inspirational for a number of genre. Something clicked and I decided to do those genre. I did 10. First SF, Fantasy, Urban Fantasy, Weird Western, Altiernite universe, Historical Fiction, Romance, steampunk, thriller, what might be Christian Fantasy. I stopped thinking that was enough but a couple of months later I decided the SF tale wasn't really the one I wanted so I did it over while keeping the original and finally an action tale kinda of based on the old radio Serial tales. Oh just remembered another one I had placed in another folder. A YA-or younger- general fiction story. So 13 all together.

From 670 words to 6540 words. Some around 1200, some around 4400. A total of somewhere around 40,000 to 42500 words.

I thought that might make an interesting story set for those who like short stories. Some have been revised once or twice others not at all. I will go over all of them though. Starting today.

And while looking for that one YA tale I found another story set idea. I call it Foibles and it will have five stories.

While I am working on two other stories, and will be revising two more for contests soon.

Writing update June '18

Okay writing update. Doing something different.

Published "The Courier" which is still on sale-at least the E-books are. I keep saying it but it's true-it's an exciting tale of action and adventure about a very young woman Courier. No one has stated anything different about my take on it anyway.

Have a story ready for a certain contest, and I will be sending out stories next week. Not sure how much I will be doing Saturday-family issues happening then.

This next is the different. I have five Western stories ready to publish. They are all about a Certain US Marshall Dobson. A bit of 10,000 words total. And I will be doing the cover. I don't want to spend much-if any for this cover, with only five stories under it.

I may be doing a second set of Western stories soon but they will all be about different people. Well two will be linked. That one might have seven stories.

And I will be getting an apology of 22 to 25 stories ready. They are all written but not all revise. They cover a wide spectrum of genre.

And sometime soon, a set of five general fiction I am calling foibles.

I am working on three novels; "Djinn" "Insane" and not sure of the title of the third.

Oh yes, of course. I have looked for a beta or three for two novels for so long I have forgotten about them. Supposedly five or so people said they would beta read one or both of them but they never told me how to get the manuscripts to them. So do I pay or just give up on that?

Done a bunch of short stories for free. They are in "My Stories Inspired by Pictures" collection and some mini stories are around Charlie Hoover's geekscapes I have two or three more stories for my Collection which makes it around 20 maybe 24 stories in there.

Except from my new novel The Courier

Since I am almost finished with the final corrections on my novel The Courier I decided to post some excerpts from it. This is 3,880 words of the first chapter. It ends with a cliffhanger.

I am not sure when I will be publishing the full novel but the way it is going now it will be in April. I have said this before but the corrections are going slow because they are tedious and I keep losing my place and have to spend time finding it. But since I am somewhat past half way I am starting to feel like I want to get it done so am spending more time on it and less on other writing and social media. I may end up doing four excerpts but three for sure. I will be publishing it on E-book and paper formats. And at the usual sites: Amazon, Barnes and Noble, iTunes, Kobo, Smashwords etc. I am still looking into setting up my own site for the paper versions at least.

And I remind people that I have three novels already published. Two are in a Urban Fantasy series and one is a steampunk-special ops fusion. They are under L. E. Doggett and are at the usual sites, in paper and e-versions.

The novel is steampunk but set in our time. It is about a young woman who is a member of the Couriers. An organization of men and woman—even though there are mostly women couriers in this tale, it just worked out that way—who carry and deliver messages and hand held objects. That could be contracts, love letters, blueprints, gold, gems, parts, pictures, books and anything else that will fit in the special pouch they use. They have a reputation of delivering what they carry on time, if not early, no matter how far they have to go, or what obstacles they have to overcome-including gang members, robbers, ocean storms, dogs, and time. Kara Stronggear is one of them. And she will deliver what is entrusted to her no matter what, for she has a rep to build. She will become one of the better known couriers if she lives long enough to grow up.



Kara Stronggear ran around the corner of the high-rise office building. Steam cars and trucks rolled down the city street and the sidewalk up ahead looked half filled with people. A white steam bus with wide blue stripes went by, but she wouldn’t be able to catch it. The few people out and about got out of her way. The brown, denim-and-leather bag she carried gave away her occupation. Her short stature made it easier to whip around the slower ones.
A cool wind blew at her after she made the turn and made the few strands of her red hair outside of her cap flip around. A BMW steam bike roared by.
She had just passed a newspaper stand closed for the day and the smell of its fresh paint—for the first time in ten years—followed her. It mixed disagreeably with the odors from boilers: wood, oil, and coal fires and something else that a huge old steam truck burned that stunk and produced black smoke. She wouldn’t be surprised if the EPA went after that company soon.
Along the way she glanced at the theater and political posters stuck to the side of the building, as usual for New York they looked dark with grime. The many doors she passed invited her in but they might be locked and she didn’t want to take the chance that an office would turn into a trap. She had a rep to uphold, a bonus to earn and a baseball game to see after this delivery. The noise of the street vehicles echoed from the brick and steel buildings, but her hearing had adopted to it. She could pick out individual voices near her and still heard the footsteps of the person who chased her.
Maybe she should head for the new 911 memorial building. So many people there she could lose herself with ease. But no, too far away. That Baptist church nearby, had afternoon meetings for drug addicts and Celebrate Recovery, but she didn’t want to place those people in danger.
A white minivan with clear smoke that smelled of french fries almost jumped the curb when it hurried around another slower car. She glanced at it but it continued on. She spat, a very unladylike action, but the mixture of the paint and smoke produced a bad taste in her mouth. Her brown, with autumn red pockets, dungarees and leather shirt, with light read shoulders and pockets, would show people she wasn’t a lady anyway. Her shorter auburn hair lay mostly under a baseball cap snugged down tight. That made her scalp warm in this weather, but her whole body had to endure that. The cap's front panel showed her logo: a lightning bolt zipping down a city street. The bolt carried the same bag she did.
This time she had no idea what she carried in her reinforced bag. The pouch could carry more than ten red bricks. She knew that for once she had carried that many for a client. That job had taken a lot of her physically. She didn’t know who would want what she carried in it this time. If it contained cash or gems she could understand why, even if those contents were usually kept secret, which meant no one should know about it. But that knowledge could have gotten out. No one usually cared for contracts unless it involved industrial espionage or gangsters. The same went for plans and blueprints, or just plain letters. Unless it was some form of communication someone thought they could use for blackmail, no one cared. In her eighteen months of experience, and from advice from other couriers, she had learned that those who go after couriers hardly ever resorted to violence. The Mob might, but she had never had gangsters after her before. She might also be carrying evidence for a criminal case or secret government or military plans. The Mob could be after the first, but as far as she knew she hadn’t carried any secret papers or devices. That might be almost fun if she ever did.
The person who chased her now might be just interested in her. There were rapists around this city, after all. She thought of herself as attractive yet on the lower end of the pretty scale, with a pixie face to go with her light red hair. All of her walking, running and carrying, not to mention workouts, gave her figure a nice shape but that included muscles that most women didn’t carry. This guy might learn the same as two men, and a few assailants had. And experienced the unpleasant surprise of finding out how strong she was.
That brought up the memories of when she had been attacked on two of her recent jobs. By men who had wanted what she carried not her. That didn’t make any difference to her though, she had a good rep for getting what her clients wanted delivered on time and in one piece. She always made sure she kept that rep. One of the men had woken up in a steam ambulance while the other two had been run off even though they had knives. They had found out the hard way that she was armed in more ways than one.
That included her outfit which hid a steal underlay-a new type made stronger than ever. Chest, stomach and back armor covered her and her hat hid padded segments that would protect her head from most blows. She also carried a small three-shot pistol, two knives—one for throwing, which she hadn’t had to use so far—and two other weapons no one but her knew about. Not that her other weapons were common knowledge. Lastly three ball bearings of various sizes that were good to throw, marbles to drop on the ground in front of someone running, and a pocket full of long tacks for the same purpose but for anything with air tires.
She turned another corner and zipped through a space between buildings. Her steps echoed between the two buildings and the shade cooled her a little. A leap over some empty boxes got her on the far side fast. But the stinks here were so bad her body thought she could taste the mixture of rotten food, poo, decay and old paint.
The man hadn’t even slowed but by his footsteps she knew he still chased her. Kara wondered if she would have to resort to weapons. The father she barely knew had taught her the uses of a knife along with the marble and tack tricks. She picked up moves from two different boxers in training and she had taken courses from a teacher of eastern martial arts. An old Indian friend of her dad’s had showed her how to run long distances and how to hunt. The lessons had started when she reached ten years of age and had been living with relatives. Kara used lessons from the last to detect anyone hunting her. It had safeguarded her life once at least—before she had gotten the idea of this job—and saved the bag she carried twice. The padding and armor were her own ideas as had been her second knife. One long and thick enough to serve as a very short sword. On top of that a professional had shown her how to drive many types of land vehicles which included the multi-gear older trucks, and she knew the controls of some boats. She had picked up the basics for airship control. The large cargo and passenger ships needed more than one operator however but she thought she could pilot one if she ever needed to.
Kara dodged in and out of the walkers on the sidewalk—she hoped to lose her tail in the mix of clothing on this block. Workmen in blue denim, men and women in business suits and casual outfits, some women dressed in skimpy outfits that worked in a certain other type of business. The last were supposedly illegal in this city but the police usually left them alone unless they gathered together in a brothel or near a prominent building, church or school.
She aimed for a group of the last as she hoped their clothes would distract any man who followed her. She began to breath hard but a block later though she knew that last gambit hadn’t worked. He must be a pro or perhaps he was gay. It didn’t matter though. She weaved between a small mass of teens, through a group of nuns, turned right to cross the street, but as she passed around one very tall couple she made a sudden turn to the left into an alley. The darkness in it might throw off her tail if they had seen her flit down there. It smelled of urine, vomit, alcohol, decay and maybe old blood, but she heard no scuffles beyond rats. No breathing or snores either. The air cooled down, probably because the buildings on either side blocked the sun.
The rotten-food odors reminded her of the time she had had to eat some moldy bread and cheese to live, only a couple of years ago before her current career. Even now Kara appreciated she had left the meat alone. She had barely held down what she did eat, even though the old cheese hadn’t been too bad in its flavor. With a shake of her head she pushed those memories back where they belonged.
Kara studied her surroundings—shadows covered almost everything. Some light came from both alley mouths and from some widows two and three floors up. She didn’t know if those were tenants or offices. Offices might be easier to open up and climb into if needed. Some windows would be unlocked. Her dad and uncle taught her that. But she hadn’t wanted to make a living being a second-story man or cat burglar to work her way up to a top level all around crook like her dad.
Damn
That came so sudden she almost let it out. A scoff at the mouth of the alley she had come through warned her. She caught a slight movement there when she pivoted so quick she almost received an air burn on her cheeks. This guy knew his stuff. If he came from the Mob he was no ordinary gangster or hit man. From the government maybe—a special forces operative. If so, she would be dead.
Maybe she should give him the bag this time. She would more than likely be alive then even if she had to rebuild her rep. With slow steps Kara moved backward to the wall. The end of the alley proved to be a wall made of large, rough, cement blocks instead of the side of a building. The wall might lead to another alley or a parking lot. Either would be good.
Kara stood still, not only to make herself a harder target to find but also to listen. He would more than likely make a noise in an unfamiliar, dark space full of unseen objects just waiting to be bumped or stepped on. A nice cat’s tail would be good, or a trash can’s lid. They used bins now, but some habits die hard.
Damn, no sounds!
No deeper shadows, no breathing, no tiny movement of air caused by someone moving either. Either he was waiting for her to make a sound of her own or of that movement had been her imagination. That had happened once before, not long ago.
She breathed in as soft as possible through her nose: no extra odors. Not sweat, aftershave, hairspray, or other bodily smells. That last had let her know the position of one attacker a year ago and twice since. She had been out for a day of nature bonding when she had almost mistaken BO for animal droppings.
Now nothing. She hoped her body wouldn’t betray her, her own sweat at least might be tracked to her. And maybe she should start being careful what she ate the day before a run like this one.
How long could she stay in this position?
I am going to have to move one way or another soon.
A touch made further internal debate stopped, for it wasn’t needed anymore.
Minute vibrations through her bag alerted her. Something touched it. Her mind went through a series of possibilities: cat or rat? A huge spider? But she dismissed them almost as quick as they formed. It got to the only real answer in a heartbeat.
Damn, he’s even better than I thought.
He had moved without the slightest noise, or shadow and had found her. How? Kara asked herself as she pivoted, elbowed the guy with her left arm, and as she finished the turn, rammed the heel of her hand into the man’s chest—or that had been her plan. Her elbow hit something soft and hard but the heel of her hand just grazed a part of his torso. She pivoted outward and away but even as she settled two hands gripped her and a second later a knife edge found her throat. It just rested there, but her skin knew how sharp it was. Her sudden breath inward brought a whiff of her own fear-infused sweat. What felt like a hand moved along her bag; she knew the choice he had just given her. Her life for the bag. She breathed in again, and this time she tasted blood in the air. Her own? From her throat? Or maybe she had bit her lip again. It didn’t matter now. The choice did. It wouldn’t be a fair trade, for only one side would be permanent. Her rep would be gone, but as she had thought earlier she could remake it. Her life was another deal. Her eyes narrowed as did her lips. She willed her muscles to relax. She sighed even though she couldn’t say sure how much of it got out between her lips.
He seemed to be giving her time to think on it. She couldn’t stomp on his foot as much as she wanted to, as the motion might force her throat onto the blade and he would know that trick. His hand moved up the strap, stopped at the level of her chest. It moved over slightly. She couldn’t help it— she grunted, jerked, and smothered a snarl, before she realized he wasn’t copping a feel. The buckle for the strap lay against her body there. He probably didn’t mind his hand being there though.
Now her anger was up, even if he wasn’t manhandling her breast, she thought. He couldn’t see her face so wouldn’t know what the expression on her face meant. When her upper cheeks hardened, her nostrils flared and her mouth set in a certain way she knew. A tinkle suggested he had hold of the buckle and would be able to undo it even one handed.
A slow deep breath—she no longer could smell her own fear—and she waited.
The knife slipped very slightly but before she could react a memory of what her dad and Twoskunks each had said. In this situation it boiled down to wait more—it could be a fake. A second move of the knife hand—this could be a fake too but he almost had the buckle undone. Grabbing the hand would not do, as he had more strength than her. Kara could tell that by his hold. Being this close she could feel his strength and a few muscles. His warmth and build wormed its way into her thinking. She wanted to roll her eyes, but it did something for her feminine side. Now wasn’t the time to even feel that much less think about it and it went against her personal morals anyway. But his body felt like a good type of warmth, her face burned as if she were blushing, when she responded to his strength. Part of her feelings might be caused by the way his wrist rubbed her breast—not hard enough to bruise but still it created some friction.
Her mind back on her danger. Bite his wrist? Ready or not that would distract him. Might cause him to back hand her too through. She would have to take the chance. All she needed was a few seconds to get her other weapon into her hand. She tried a move for his eyes, but her fingers encountered something hard, smooth and glass-like.
A steam bike roared by outside the alley, it sounded like the rider rode on the sidewalk, headed in here, she thought perplexed and a tiny bit hopeful. They always made more noise than a steam car even with smaller boilers. The toot toot of a back-up steam horn sounded for seconds. She pulled in a slow breath through her nose. Got some of his scent along with her sweat. She rolled her eyes. No more distractions.
Kara let out a moan of pleasure that wasn’t all faked, and he paused as if thinking about what he just heard. She reacted by sliding away from the knife through the crook of his arm on that side. From the way his arm had rested she knew where that space would be. Her smaller size came in handy here. She brushed against his side and arm as she squeezed through that space. A smile crossed her face when she made it through before he could close his arm to trap her.
Once free she took a step to one side and spun around in a circle. In a second, even faster circle to gather speed, she lifted her right leg as far as possible as she came around the second time. She figured, hoped, that he would be facing her at this point. Her ankle connected with something hard with a flap. It moved. The sound of a body as it impacted the cement floor showed her that she had been correct in her aim—mostly. Her foot not her ankle should have hit his head. That joint now hurt, but she wouldn’t let it slow her. The pain reminded her of practice sessions. None of her teachers allowed her to stop because of pain.
To give her ankle time to recover and to do something unexpected, she drew her newest weapon. Slid a small knob on one side of it with her thumb. A very slight buzz sounded, she backed up, aimed to where the sound of the impact had come from, waited two heartbeats and then press a stud under it. A bright electrical bolt shot out. In the darkness the bright light dazzled her eyes, even through her closed lids. The hiss and very small electrical thump it made when it hit the cement revealed that she had missed. She backed up more, not caring about any noise she made for he knew where her location. Kara drew a breath in, breathed hard even as she moved. The air brought with it a tang of ozone. As she knew there would be.
Another three heartbeats and she moved to avoid whatever motions he made for her. A touch of air movement caused her to slide sideways, a darker man height mass in the darkness caused her to duck instinctively. She duckwalked three steps and stood. She knew he came for her. It hadn’t been quite long enough but Kara aimed the device in front of her and pressed the stud again even as she moved her arm. A less bright bolt shot out. She thought it moved slower—but that had to be her imagination. By the flash, she saw her bolt hit his side. He had to have slid that way when she aimed it. Too slow this time though. Again her vision clouded with stars and bright flashes, yet that didn’t interfere with the sound of a body impacting the cement a second time. The charge hadn’t been powerful enough to knock him out, but this time he should stay down at least long enough for her to climb that back wall.
A look around OH OH.
If I can find it again.
The darkness surrounded her, probably because her eyes had adjusted to the two bright strobes. A quick mental replay of their fight and she headed in one direction. The image of the area created by the electrical shock she supported her choice. There were no sounds except for those outside the alley. That included a siren. No way to know if someone had seen their fight and called the police. She didn’t want to talk to them anyway. Not only would that make her late but the electric stunner was illegal.
With her ears tuned to any sounds of the man getting up she hurried toward the wall. A solid bump on her nose that stopped her progress, revealed she had been closer than she thought. A short rub on the nose and a grunt was all the response she would give to the pain. React to it later; more lessons from her teachers but she had learned that one that hard way, too. The stink here also revealed where she as. An old, odor of urine strong enough for this to be a latrine for an army of homeless bums, she hoped—she hadn’t stepped in anything worse, but it hadn’t felt like it or smelled like it.
From around her waist Kara pulled out a small multi-pronged hook with a rough, very tough rope tied to it. She spun it then threw it upward. A clink followed. A heartbeat later by a second one on the alley floor. Another throw. She knew the height of the wall so she should be able to get this hook over it. The third try worked, she pulled on it to test how strong it stuck. It held so without further thought she started up. The wall was rough against the back of her hands and it tore her skin. The substance scraped her nose and one cheek when her body swayed, but she had known it that could happen. Sweat dripped into her mouth but she ignored the salty flavor it brought, as she couldn’t wipe her eyes or mouth.
Darkness showed above her and below. Some light behind her, but she climbed in shadows. It felt like she had been stuck there forever. Muscle strain began. She had to get up there before he caught her.
Just Darkness. Where am I? How much longer before I get to the top? If he gets me he will no doubt kill me and steal get my bag. I will have failed in this job, too. I can’t let that happen. Pain doesn’t matter, scraped skin isn’t important. My dad will know I failed for the rest of his time here, in the seconds I have to live I will know I failed. I want this life and this job-I need to do it!
She snarled and mouthed, “No! I have to get up there.”


end excerpt

Three short short stories and a short writing update

It has been way too long since I have done anything with this blog. That's my fault. So for those who might be following this blog and those who know I am a writer I say that I have been doing a bunch of writing.
   I have one story at Writer's of the Future contest and have another one very close to being ready to send in for this quarter's contest. For those who don't know they have a contest every quarter. You can send in only one story per quarter but depending on how long they take in a quarter to decide on your story it is possible to have three stories in at one time. Usually it works out to be only two for two quarters.

   I am almost done with a new novel-The Courier. That is my novel with that title. There is a new novel out with that title but it isn't mine. Mine is steampunk set in our time. No computers so they have couriers to carry important papers and small devices, parts etc. Sometimes cash, gems, gold or silver too. The papers can be ordinary letters, contacts that need to be signed, blueprints, collage exams and thesis. Most anything else you can think of. The job can be dangerous so Couriers are armed. Kara, a young twenty-two year woman, knows self defense and how to shot and some about how to use a knife. She has a couple of steampunk type weapons in secret. One is to stun since she doesn't like actually shooting people even though she will.  I just need to finish revising a chapter a short chapter and redesign a couple of long chapters. Than off to a beta reader or two. Hopefully they don't find anything that needs fixing with the plot but that is their job.

I have done a quite a few very short stories inspired by certain sets of pictures on Google + That is where these three stories came from. I will be doing a 22 story anthology with the stories of one of those sets. At least one of these will be included in that anthology.


I have done more writing including finally for an On The Premises contest but this is all for now.

Now to the stories:


The second one is the third tale of an unnamed older mage, I have written. I hope to do two more about him. All shorter stories like this one.

The stories get longer with each tale. The first two are flash and the third is almost 1400 words. So 2,820 words altogether. They are each different; Fantasy, Urban Fantasy and SF. I think the third one might be sort of or almost cyberpunk.

Please enjoy them and if you do like them remember I do have novels for sell. :)

Dragon Celebration:

I had been staring down at the bridge that led to the city, Averiburg. The massive stone bridge that traveled over the city proper, had been adorned with wide ribbons as had the narrow castle with its tall towers and battlements and grand archways. The ends of the high stone water courses that fed water to the castle also had been decorated. We stood on a rocky crag that stuck out of the main mountain. Below us is a small valley they built the castle in. A large village had grown around it.
When that thought popped into my head, I spun around to face Qu’loff. Most people don’t realize that the last syllable is pronounced with more of a growl sounding tone. His lightly colored scales reflected my dragon jewel. I wore it over my gold colored armor. which had been polished for this day. I held my dragon spear, with its two 18 inch long blades one at each end, but I was so used to it, handling it so I didn’t stab or slice anyone it had finally become second nature.
I looked up to his solid blue eyes, no one could tell how they saw with no pupils but they did rather well. His breath smelled of heat and only slightly of burnt meat so I could tell he hadn’t eaten for a while, but I knew that anyway.
“Dragons don’t like human celebrations.”
“True,” he stated in a haughty tone, but continued in a normal one, “but this one is special. It is the only one we Flying, Fire People willing participate in.”
They have one word instead of “Flying, fire people”, but that is how my mind translates it.
The wind up here on the crag were we stood picked up, the padding under my armor protected me from cold winds on land or in the air, but my helm was up and my face felt the cold.
He paused for a moment, “I find myself eager for this one.”
Qu’loff stared at me for a moment with his head slightly tilted, so I knew I was the reason he was eager for this celebration. Most partnerships between humans and dragons happened between those of the same gender. You could count the mixed pairings in the last twenty years on both hands. I was one and the rider I liked, Jorume, was another. He had a female dragon, hatched a year before Qu’loff. It made certain behaviors of both beings easier to understand and cope with, but while certain thoughts, feelings, bodily functions were difficult to understand and go through, we understood each other well.
I watched the other dragons, most but not all with riders, fly around the castle or land on various spots. I was off duty but was expected to wear my armor, for the celebration and the show. I nodded sent a mental message of my joy of knowing him and that it was time to go, to my dragon. That had become second nature too.
I climbed up the leg he moved into position for me and settled onto my saddle. He took off with a sudden launch. I was used to that now and someday may even enjoy it.
We headed down to our place in the ceremony that memorialized the first team of a dragon and human pair.
end

Modern Golem:


“Hmmm”
My first thought when I saw her. No, she was made from plastic formed to look like the human body. I could make out the lines of the various stripes and larger panels they had used. Her head looked real: no lines, or plastic shine. I wondered if they had used a human one. If so it was fresh by the look. In my fifty years, thirty-three as a mage I hadn’t seen anything like her.
Would that make it a modern Frankenstein? Or more likely a modern golem, not made out of mud or clay, but of manmade materials.
Whatever. I shivered and not just from the cold air in here. I sensed power here even without using my special senses. She had the most but the tall narrow things behind her each had a large dose too.
The room I stood in smelled of a hospital: antiseptic and cleaners, with futuristic looking equipment in the background. I could hear electronic beeps like heart monitors produce.That supported the idea they had used a real head.
Had they tried for a resurrection? Someone died too young by her appearance? Someone who was very old wanted a new start? Either of those never worked out the way the builders thought it would. Surprising, I wasn’t able to see if they had made her complete since she wore a black dress. Shoulderless and sleeveless but still modest. I wasn’t sure what the clear shoulder coverings were for. They looked like shoulder paddings some woman fashions used.
I also wasn’t sure about that round light behind her. Part of her construction? Something wizardry to keep her going? Just coincidence? It produced some energy.
The round clear ball she held, about the width of the lid for a large drink, I did know. I came here for it. She held it between the forefinger and thumb of her left hand while her right hand bent at the wrist under it. Just coincidence or a magical stance? Could be either or neither.
The fact that it projected a larger mostly transparent ball-make that two balls-was of concern for me.
The more I looked at the ball the more I thought she was made to activate it. The real human head-alive probably-might be used to try to fool this wizardry device. For it had to be a human that operated it.
I shook my head. They had to be stopped. If she activated the ball, they would get something very bad. Worse than if this was a nuke or even a futuristic antimatter bomb. It was a potestatem-dunamas. A redunante name but it fit. The thing had skads of power. Therefore it was used for many things. As a wizardry nuke, a method to change a person into another creature, or change a section of the earth. Turn miles shaped like a splatter, into desert or lave lake or maybe even draw the moon to the earth. It might not be able to the last but one ancient wizard wanted one to try it. He was stopped before he could but that story says he destroyed Mu in the process.
A sudden change in the output of the device, caused the outer balls to start spinning.
Oh oh
I had been thinking in the wrong tense. It had already been activated and it neared its release.
I pulled in as much anergy in the room as I could get, she glanced up as the light behind her dimmed. I’m glad they had a lot already ready, for whatever reason.
I sent a Trick to pull the ball out of her hand. Nothing. Damn, as a golem she was immune to Tricks. I used more that I had gathered, created a large lightning to strike at the ball. That should knock it out of her hand. I shielded myself at the same time. I still felt heat and electricity in the air heard the crackle like roar.
However when the light dimmed enough for me to open my eyes, even though the streaks in my vision I saw she still held it. What? The floor had scorched marks and something still wobbled in the corner but not other harm anywhere. The room must have another protection.
For the next three minutes I tried various Tricks, even pulling it with a tractor Trick I invented, but nothing worked. One last thing; maybe a shield around her would keep the damage down to only the building-maybe. I pulled in all of the mystical energy I could. That light dimmed again and she sagged a tiny bit.
Oh?
I switched targets and hit that light hard. Nothing, so I pulled energy in, as much as I have ever used at one time in my long life as a mage. Hit it so hard in so many ways I lost track of then. She sagged but looked at me. Took a step my way, I slid sideways. The light went out, I hit the ball again with the last I had and this time it went flying. I felt hot, tried and used up, old but I ran, even as weak as I was I was faster than her for I was motivated. I grabbed the ball from the floor took off running for the door. It burned but I turned it off, when it started to disappear I went through the thick metal door, sealed it and welded it. 
 Yes, that part really was that easy. Maybe the switch was a failsafe or maybe the original designer never thought about the switch. I went home and crashed, rested and ate for three days. Glad I stopped them from doing whatever they had planned for it would have been very bad.

end


She Is the Best:

The smell of soldering filled the air. Sideborg-a name to say that he was on his own side-watched her. She was the best there was at cybernetic repair and related fields, even as young as she looked; twenty-one. He always wondered if she really was the age she appeared to be. Her experience and her knowledge made him think not, but she was a genius after all so maybe. A few of the sparks from the soldering bounced to his face, but he didn’t care. Even though he felt them he didn’t need eye protection, for his arms were not the only manmade devices he was now made form.
Sideborg looked around, Kilner’s place looked like it was filled with junk, but there was more here than most thought. That was one reason she kept the place dark, so no one could see the real stuff, mixed in with the junk. She had proven that she knew where every piece lay.
He looked at her. The hiss of the special welder filled his ears. Even though the flickering high light and sparks, her goggles looked well used, with burn spots, nicks and faded colors. They were made from a mixture of super tough ceramics and metal, designed to take very high temperatures and were very hard to damage, yet she, or someone else who had them first, had done both. He thought it had been her, maybe her teacher and her.
Kilner looked down. She was pretty and in shape-she would have to be with some of the lifting she had to do and that she needed to run very fast at times down here here where they lived. Her mid length over red-for today-hair was tired back with a heat resistance cloth, but some strands still had scorch marks and the ends lay uneven. Today her work stunk more than usual, for the unique metal they had to use and because it was a very strong alloy, therefore took a very high temperature to fuse together. It needed to be for the use he put it through almost every day.
When she finished repairing the damage she readjusted and recalibrated the computer in his shoulder. The last job he had done had damaged it, but it had been overdue for an overhaul anyway, which, of course, had made the damage worse.
The clicking of the recalibration continued as did the hiss of the torch she used even though she had sit it aside for now. The best models didn’t produce any noise, but here they didn’t have the top line stuff. Much of it wasn’t even third level. Some in fact were throw away junk that had been modified or refixed a number of times. It all worked though. Of course his cybernetics were one of the few exceptions. It had been top stuff, now though it had been repaired so many times it he was surprised it all worked. Plus his reconstruction had been a few years ago so they probably had even more advanced products up top.
He breathed in some of the heat and soldering gas one of his few remaining human functions, when he thought of the last job. His tastebuds still worked and he wanted to spit out the taste all that produced but he held it in since he was in her shop.
Sideborg sighed, last night had been a furball. The guards around that diamond had been some of the best, but he had snuck past them anyway. That was one reason he was popular with certain people. He didn’t just use his strength and augmentations. He could stay in shadows and use distractions as well as the best of them. Sometimes no one knew he had taken anything.
This time was different and so far, as he had heard anyway, no one knew his real job had been to steal the chip with Barney’s safe houses, secret accounts and hiding places for illegally gotten goods. That last was what his costumer had wanted. One of Barney’s men had stolen a very old item that could lead to something valuable, maybe a weapon or a carrying case with a pocket universe in it, Sideborg suspected. He now knew the three places that item could be but decided to give the whole chip to the customer, who had been very happy to get the knowledge. He should be on his way to the second place already-if he hadn’t found what he wanted at the first one. More than likely the customer wouldn’t use the extra info that came with it because he just needed that one bit, and he would be off planet soon.
The rest of what Sideborg found could be worth a lot of extra money, before Barney realized the knowledge had been stolen and redid everything. But that might not happen for a day or week.
One good thing though during the fight with the hidden two guards-both huge and augmented-Sideborg had destroyed the side of the room where the chip had been stored. It hadn’t been planned, but the fight had been messy. The whole room would need restoring; all types of devices and storage drawers and cabinets had been destroyed. Some of it on purpose but much in a death fight. He managed to finally get out with what he wanted but it had been closer than usual. Sideborg shook his head. He had missed that information about the secret guards and had gotten careless in his arrogance. During the fight he had feared discovery or even destruction twice. But he had used his cunning and with a bit of luck, that resulted in the electrocution of that one hulk, he had made it. He had made sure any recording devices, including in the bodies of the guards, had been totally wiped out.
He had barely made it out even after he had what he wanted. Other parts of him had been damaged plus his face and other real skin spots had been badly bruised. But he had left no blood or skin behind to be shifted or analyzed.
Kilmer stepped back and smiled at him. For reasons unknown to him he was one of her favorites. That he paid on time probably helped, as well as the fact that he didn’t call her names or felt the need to show off. He didn’t compliment her much but he did pay extra when he had it. That could be why she fixed him on credit twice, she knew he was good for it eventually. She had other favorites but they were few. Plus she liked doing a job no one else could do, or do as fast and as well as she could. When she smiled like that her work was exceptional.
When she went to get his arm, he smiled, for he would be back to work tomorrow with no one the wiser to the damage done to him. The bruises weren’t matter because he usually had a couple. And with no one being able to take advantage of his “injury”. Or suspect that he had been involved with the break-in. He would take the next few days off, to rest and to see about what else he had, he had made a copy of the chip. Sideborg knew he would have to be very careful who he let in on his knowledge and how he partialed out that data. He knew what people who would be careful with its use and would know how to use the info without letting on they had gotten it from Barney himself. That meant money and favors owed.
He smiled this time.

end

Revised first segment of chapter one of Journey of Mystery

All along I planned on Indie publishing this novel so I thought it wouldn't hurt to do a serial on Google+ as I wrote the first draft. Actually I posted version 1.5 since I revised some of it each segment before I posted it.

Anyway, I have finally started the next and hopefully final revision of the whole novel. So this is a preview of Chapter one. It will be months before I get the whole book revised but a couple of previews are in order. I may do some touch ups here and there-I am still not completely comfortable with the first line-but this is basically it.

The novel is a genre I made up as I began the book: preindustrial steampunk-fantasy. It has elves, dragons, werewolves, airships, fairies, the first steam cars and aether devices and weapons. No gunpowder and just the beginning of anything like trains.

The first chapter will be split up into three segments of over 2,000 words each. This one is 2,500 and some.

I am working on a different title, for I think this one is too cliche-ish, and I will throw in a couple of alternates as I post these segments

Journey of Mystery:

A Weapon: one reason I led this journey was to be a weapon to defend the men who went with me. 

       My thoughts drifted in that direction when I stared at the horizon over the sea. At the moment I had little to do—at worse I would be in the way if I tried, at best I was a supercargo unneeded at the moment. My time of importance would come.

      The airship, The Seagull Storm readied to rise. We were headed out to find something I couldn’t describe. I didn’t have anything to do at the moment so my mind went off in dark directions on its own. We carried weapons and would buy more, but one of my purposes was to protect the crew.

          My name is Roger Twowinds and I am a native of this part of the American continent. I stand taller than average with a light build, perhaps because I have a training routine I carry out every day. I am also a wizard and for the first time in command of an expedition. 

         Hawsers dropped off as the crew untied them. Some plopped onto the hard, beaten ground while others dragged for a moment before members of the crew drew them back aboard the airship. Once up members of the crew looped them up in The Seagull Storm’s riggings. I stood on the low quarter deck near the wheel, which enabled me to see almost everything as I watched the crew, while I stayed out of their way. The pillions and masts that held up the large gasbag blocked my view in places but I knew what the airship looked like. It had the appearance much like an ocean going schooner with balloons instead of main sails. The Muser accelerators or aether drives hummed and sparked with colors only I could see, for they were ready to lift us. The Seagull was fast which was one reason I wanted it. It would have to fly and maneuver very quickly as a defense from ariel beasts. I didn’t know if the screaming part of the name was to invoke thoughts of a seagull about to attack, a fear yell, or just an expression of frustration over the exploits of its thirty man crew.  It could be all three.

         Many of my journals and scrolls contained short references to something very powerful that had been lost—someplace—with no description of what it looked like. The writers may have thought everyone knew, or they may have decided that it was too dangerous for anyone to know what it looked like. I read many old journals, scrolls and even books. A few months ago, while I again read certain texts, a new thought formed in my mind. It grew into a desire and lodged in my heart. I knew the artifact needed to be hidden where no one could find it, or something bad would happen. Why Me? I had no idea except that I knew of it. It had been lost so many centuries ago that no one knew of it anymore. I had asked some subtle questions. Only two older mages had even an idea of what it was. So my knowledge may have left me the only one able to find it and secrete it. 

         The Captain yelled orders, but the crew knew what needed to be done by long practice and they worked hard. A ground crew, which included young boys, gathered the ropes on the ground. They did so while running with joyous yells, as if in the middle of a contest to see who got the most ropes. They took them to one of the three short, long buildings to one side. Many of the children had the same reddish color of skin as I did for they, as well as I, were natives to this land. Most of the remainders wore pale skin, while a couple had olive skin. These were first or second generation of colonists.

          A mixture of sea, fresh and rotten fish, of men working hard, pine, and left over baking bread odors drifted around me. Pine trees, with a few apple and maple trees mixed in, bordered on three sides the dirt landing field we lifted from, which lay not many yards from the sea. There a small beach and tiny wharf slipped into the water. A few fishing boats and canoes sat tied up or on the sand. That is where the fish smells came from. That was why workers here ate seafood at most meals. It was cheap enough and obviously plentiful which made it cheap. They had bread and different types of mush also. Sometimes that odor would be so strong I could taste it, but that may have been my memory of last night’s seafood stew, since I love seafood. 

          I put away that memory and stared outward considered my quest. My thoughts boarded on dark ones. I didn’t know what we looked for and this was the first time I have led an expedition like this. I have been in charge of two and three men while with my tribe and later while I trained at the MAGE school, but this was larger than any group I have led. I didn’t know if I had what it took to search for what my research had found, or to order a crew and especially the fighters around. We would no doubt participate in battles against dangerous beasts and men, so Captain Teil suggested I hire a band of mercenaries who were used to hard work, and the supernatural. I found a group of fifteen which included two sergeants and two lieutenants. The airship was very crowded, but the holds were only half filled which gave the mercs room to sleep and to do some easy training. Captain Teil, his officers and the unit’s head people would give the actual orders in most cases, but I would need to direct them and to give the command to fight or not, and where. I shook my head once to dispel those thoughts and emotions. I would rise to the occasion because I needed to for I have been trained well and had experience on quests .

              Teil shouted my name from the other side of the wheel, and gave my a thumbs up. Roger isn’t my birth name, but I have used it for so long it is comfortable. Twowinds is a shorten version of my surname, I use it because of familiarity. Besides there are aspects of wizardry that can use a person’s or thing’s real name for mischief. 

            The cool wind picked up speed as we moved. It blew open my wizard robe to show the buckskin pants and tan cotton tunic that I wore under it. My shoulder length black hair flipped around. I like that feeling, so I didn’t tie or cover it. 

       The Seagull was the fastest airship of its type and size, from anywhere. I have seen it outrace pirates and outmaneuver warships of most sizes. It showed that speed when its crew stumbled upon a nest of warships from Northern Newhampshire. That was over a year ago and he may have been smuggling or just trying to set down for the night. That was a bad few minutes from what I understand but they made it. Its speed and ability to turn fast, or to pivot under the right conditions is why many think of Teil is a pirate. I know he isn’t. He may smuggle now and then depending on the item and other circumstances, but he never raided another airship, sea ship or a town. 

       For a moment I looked back over the land we had risen from. Three small barn-like buildings had been built here which now were used for airships—a few upside down U shaped frames for the tie done ropes, decorated the area. They looked much like the hitching posts horse riders use to tie their mounts to. Most were wood even though five larger ones had been made of thick metal. This wasn’t a proper airship field, but it worked for the traffic my village and the school had. I made out a few holes in the  hard dirt where large airships had used steam powered huge crossbows or gearguns to send a long bolt deep into the soil. They used the bolts to tie the ships down. Then somehow pulled the bolts back out to take them with them. 

       I turned back to study the Seagull. The steering wheel sat toward the aft end even though on an airship it didn’t matter where it was located. The gears and lines it operated pulled at the steering sails and smaller balloons. Toward the front a low shack like structure graced the deck. It sat with space on both sides to walk. It housed a galley, the Captain’s cabin, along with a dinning area for special dinners. There were storage closets in there too. As the one who hired the ship my cabin was in there too. It was a bit smaller than the Captain’s, but had more room than my usual cabin. A head was down a short passageway. The Captain had his own. 

      When the Seagull floated over a large pit full of fish heads, tails and bones a rotten stink filled my nose.  As bad as that smelled it still reminded me of the clam, mussel, trout stew we had last night. A little burnt but still I had seconds. I liked seafood which was fortunate for where I choose to live. Near but not in where my ancestors have lived for two hundred year, at least. 

        I looked up. The wooden hull hung from a cigar shaped gasbag, longer in both directions than the boat. Its shape and design also helped to make the Seagull move as fast as it did. Four smaller balloons graced each side of the large one, for extra lift and for protection of the main gasbag. The airship’s flat bottom looked black while the gasbag was grey and blue. The coloring had been designed to make it harder to see once in the air, especially at night. Another reason some had the mistaken thought he was a pirate. 

      The sound of many feet on the wood deck meant the crew finished the hurried preparations even as we lifted. It had taken what seemed like an extraordinary amount of time—months—to get ready. We had to plan for many conditions since I had only a hunch of where to start the search. We needed special supplies and provisions for the cold we headed for. And we had needed to wait for the mercs. I knew of some who might go, who were well trained and trustworthy but we had to contact them and to negotiate the price. I had also had to plan on some weapons we needed to have made to fight half-dragons, heaven forbid full dragons and anyone we met that were hostile to us. Both me and Captain Teil had made enemies over the years.   

      I looked upward at the men in the riggings. The Seagull carried sails but smaller ones, much like a fore topsail on seagoing schooners. They sat along each side of the railing toward the bow along while two that looked twice the size of the others flapped on either side of the forecastle deck. Each of those along with four on aft end were steering sails. They all helped to angle the ship when it turned or Captain Teil wanted to adjust the angle the wind hit the balloon. Gears clashed and air pumps ran. Grease stinks joined the others. The three aether drives lay in front of the quarter deck, almost touching it. Each was a box half the length of horse and as tall as the knees of the same animal. Each one had been covered with a black lacquer. Brass filigree, hollow frames Criss crossed over each one. The frame also served as pipes to move aethery gas around the box with more inside each box. Two sat on the outside with the third larger one rested just a little forward of the other two and in-between them. That one looked one third larger than the other two. All three helped to produce the Seagull’s speed. I didn’t know exactly how they worked but I did have some idea. It took a person with at least a some wizardry ability to activate one. On the Seagull there was an aether man whose job it was to operate the drives and to handle any repairs that might be needed. The second mate could operate them in an emergency and rumor had it that so could Captain Teil. He would not admit that though. I could make them produce lift, but that was a given since I am a full wizard. The drives produce more lift making the Seagull lighter even though their main purpose was propulsion. They could move an airship forward, or backwards if desired. They could push the airship against the wind even though they had to work harder and it could be slow going depending on the wind. They moved the ship at a pretty good clip with the wind or even becalmed.

       The first mate, a tall man from one of the African nations who went by the name of Jaclyn, also yelled orders to the crew. No matter how experienced and hardworking the men were someone or a piece of equipment would fumble, ropes could catch on something and last second irregularities. And sometimes the men needed encouragement to move faster.     

     The first part of our journey, which would be the easiest and one of only two legs that could be planned, would take us to Sweden. Sweden had businesses that built excellent weapons and watches for that matter. I had ideas of what we might need and the unusual weapons we would have built. There should be few chances of anyone attacking us or so I thought, for no one knew of my vision. 

        My tribe has hunted, trained and played in cold, snow and ice all winter, so the idea of going to extreme cold didn’t bother me as much as it many of the crew.     

      I watched the buildings recede behind us. They were each made from logs, complete with bark, with metal roofs. Two were the length of three cargo wagons and double the width of a farmhouse. The third was half a house wider and twice as long as the other two. I could still make out one set of gray-white lean-tos set along the sides of the larger building. Most of the children employed here slept in those lean-tos. They used old sails as roofs which they nailed to the thicker logs of the dormitory. Adults workers and sometimes passengers slept in there too. 

       The creak of the six steering balloons indicated the ship turned already, even before it reached cruising altitude. A bit unusual, but Captain Teil knew his stuff, his ship and that we needed to hurry. When we turned I spotted two large ships in the water near the beach. I suspected they were fast cargo ships; they would pick up the fish, and other seafood, caught by the fishermen here. The ships would have mages who kept the fish cold on the journey.