Life can be a real bitch. People say that, don’t they? Life’s a bitch and then you marry one. Ha fucking ha, have another glass of sherry and then do please amuse me by choking on it. Life’s a bitch and then you die. Well, go on then, do us all the favour you nihilistic twat. Life’s a bitch and then you wake up? Still waiting.
“What if the breath that kindled those grim fires,
Awaked, should blow them into sevenfold rage,
And plunge us in the flames; or from above
Should intermitted vengeance arm again
His red right hand to plague us?”
John Milton, Paradise Lost
1st Council Day, Month of Floods
Two days since we took possession of the Flying Shark, and it’s taken us that long to settle on the name. The crew wanted to call it the Sun-King’s Doom, but that would hardly serve us if we were to put in to any of the Sun-King’s ports, so the [...]
Zafir stood on the eyrie rim, as close to the edge as she could be. The eyrie flew steadily across the sea, towed by dragons, its handful of growing hatchlings soul-cut and enslaved by the Black Moon’s knife. Mighty Diamond Eye laboured beside the other dragons, red and gold scales alight in the fire of [...]
Sarvic turned to run. A Vathan spear reached for him. Gallow chopped it away; and then he was slipping back and the whole line was falling apart and the Vathen were pressing forward, pushed by the ranks behind them, stumbling over the bodies of the fallen.
Bosnia. July 13th 1995. Under the auspices of the United Nations, a squad of four special forces soldiers witness one of the worst atrocities in Europe since the end of the nazis.
They also witness something else.
William Falkland is a dead man.
A Royalist dragoon who fought against Parliament, he is currently awaiting execution at Newgate prison. Yet when he is led away from Newgate with a sack over his head, it is not the gallows to which they take him, but to Oliver Cromwell himself. Cromwell has heard of Falkland’s reputation as an investigator and now more than ever he needs a man of conscience. His New Model Army are wintering in Devon but mysterious deaths are sweeping the camp. In return for his freedom, Falkland is despatched to uncover the truth. With few friends and a slew of enemies, Falkland soon learns there is a dark demon at work, one who won’t go down without a fight. But how can he protect Cromwell’s army from such a monster and, more importantly, will he be able to protect himself?
The Sin Eater first appeared in Unexpected Journeys, the BFS anthology published for the 2013 World Fantasy Convention.
Chapter Two: An Inspector Calls. In which our hero is appraised of the curious riot of the 14th of March
The Taiytakei take their most dangerous prize of all.
Ten years have passed since Berren the Crowntaker came back to take what was his in The King’s Assassin. Ten bloody years.
Bellepheros the alchemist left the Veid Palace of Furymouth having failed to find a murderer. On his way home he vanished. Murdered, or so the story goes.
True courage is not the brutal force of vulgar heroes, but the firm resolve of virtue and reason.
Some days it seemed that every other Marroc in Andhun was called Jonnic. The harbour was full of them. There was Angry Jonnic and Laughing Jonnic and Fat Jonnic and Thin Jonnic and about a dozen others. Now and then, Grumpy Jonnic wished he’d been bald or red-headed or something else more obvious, but fate [...]
Some parts of the dragon-realms fared better than others, when the War of Speakers came to its head and the rogue dragons burst out of the mountains and swept across the desert. Me? I wasn’t in those parts. And Bloodsalt? That fared worst of all.
That mysterious past the thief-taker has? Anyone out there really think it *wasn’t* going to catch up with him. And Berren. And be bad?
The Genre for Japan appeal was launched in the Spring of 2011 to raise money for victims of the recent earthquake near Japan. Many people gave generously of their time, their creativity and their money. I offered up two days of my time, Many suggestions were made as to what could be done with it, and I honestly didn’t expect much interest. But there was, and an interest that far exceeded my expectations. This story is the result of that auction, written on request for the winning bidder, Michael Amouyal. Michael, I salute you.
They hate us. They fear us. They revile us. They outlaw us. And as they do these things, they forget what we truly are. But we do not. We remember. For we tamed dragons.
Berren is one of “Khrozus’ Boys,” the splat of unwanted bastards that the army of Khrozus the Butcher left behind at the end of the civil war. A life of petty larceny and clearing crap off the city streets looms large, until one day he goes to watch a rare public execution and what he sees changes the whole course of his life.
Bear with me on the numerous typos and other mistakes littering this passage. The keyboard writes and having writ moves on, and doesn’t come back to sort that sort of thing out until the very end.
I heard a rumour… It was just a rumour…
I heard a rumour… What have you done to her…?
-Siouxsie Sioux: Arabian Knights-
Probably the first thing I ever finished that was worth reading, this started life as an exercise in descriptive prose and ended up surprising me. With thanks to Lord Byron.
Correct as of 19th June 2015. I will periodically update this for major changes.
Historical Fiction as S J Deas (William Falkland)
William Falkland has spent six years fighting for the king. It’s four years since he last saw his family, and all he wants to do is go home; [...]