I’ve been hard at work again, this time on a short story: “Glimpsing Yggdrasill.” It is a tale of the Juxian Mythos, taking place during the New Dominican subjugation, about two hundred and fifty years after the events of the Jakken Trilogy. It has all you could ask for; war, space battles, kuvuthuses – and a terrible beast that drives a poor maintenance worker mad. The first draft is done, and the first part of the story is below. Enjoy!

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62 AAJ, Subdateyn 12 – The New Dominican Subjugation

“Critical damage sustained. All crewmembers proceed immediately to lifepods.”

Daniel Keyes was more than happy to oblige. The automated emergency notification system rang loudly through the halls, carrying over the blaring klaxons filling the air.

Daniel was fortunately only one corridor away from the nearest lifepod collection when the fatal energy beam struck the hull of the Elkhound, taking advantage of the shield generators downed by enemy strikecraft swarming over the surface of the ship. As a member of the ship’s maintenance staff, he was not himself a soldier, and so had priority in obtaining an escape pod and had no responsibilities to carry out before he left. His charge was in its final death throes, and there was naught he could do but get as far away from it as possible before the dormant explosives laced throughout the ship’s core were activated.

Seeding explosives was a common practice among the warships of New Dominica, and yet the ships flying the colors of the Jalhalla Kingdom never seemed to learn from their mistakes. Indeed, a glimpse out a passing viewport showed the ambushing fleet rapidly closing in on the dying Elkhound, their silvery, stream-lined shapes causing Daniel to shudder.

Curses echoed in the overly-large halls of the ship as soldiers – some panicking and others grimly doing their best to maintain decorum and order – ran to and fro, finishing their final duties on board the ship they had known and loved. Most of the curses were directed at the “thrice-fucked Terrans” and their “pigdog shitters.”

The planet and system of New Dominica, as well as its four allied systems, had been free of the oppressive rule of kings for many years. Following the rise of Darien Servidos, First King of Man, New Dominica and its associated systems had managed to win independence from the newly established monarchy, at first through fighting a bloody war, and then when that looked about to fail, by direct negotiations with the Terrans and the Juxtani Congregation – a government of sorts that managed affairs between different interplanetary civilizations. The Juxtani – as Humans now called all aliens – had been discovered only recently by one of Darien’s fathers, Jakken Servidos, and the Human race was still adjusting to the idea of being part of something larger than themselves.

Had it not been for the discovery of that vast conglomeration of alien societies, New Dominica never would have been able to get its freedom. As it was, the rise of Darien came at a bad time for the Human Empire, seeing as the Humans were a newly inducted member of the Juxtani Congregation and had to look their best before the older alien races represented there. In order to avoid continuing the civil war against New Dominica and Eden – which reflected very badly on humanity, as no other civilized Juxtani race fought amongst themselves for so long – Darien had chosen to grant New Dominica and her allies independence, as well as the planet of Eden.

But Darien’s word was no longer valid. Though his reign had been long and – even New Dominicans will grudgingly admit this – prosperous, his heir had never been clearly named. When he died in 58 AAJ, his three sons had taken to squabbling, and the Kingdom of Man had been divided into three “autonomous but unified kingdoms”: Jalhalla, Paolos, and Andria. Almost immediately, it had become clear that the three new kingdoms did not consider decisions made by Darien’s government valid, and the Kingdom of Paolos had reconquered Eden, which had been granted its independence at the same time as New Dominica. Ever since that day, New Dominica had known that its turn was too coming, and had begun to prepare again for war.

The time for war had indeed come again, but only after two hundred years – or fifty Juxtani dateyns – of waiting. The largest of the three Human kingdoms – and the only Human government with a representative in the Juxtani Congregation, whose capital was Earth herself – the Kingdom of Jalhalla, had finally decided to take back New Dominica. But New Dominica had been ready, and when the Juxtani Congregation made no move to intervene – after all, the Juxtani consider each race to be its own sovereign civilization, and they do not generally interfere in the internal affairs of a member civilization, even if they might disapprove – New Dominica has defended itself from the invading Jalhalites. The war had lasted almost two years now, and was taking its toll.

The Elkhound was the last of its small fleet of three left intact – save for the massive gash Daniel could glimpse far down the hull that opened the boxy brown ship into empty space. The last vessel standing wouldn’t last much longer, either, as the emergency airlocks had failed, and the air was thinning rapidly. Daniel had only a short distance to go, and by the end of it he was already beginning to feel light-headed. That did not bode well for the soldiers still on board.

Five of the twenty escape pods in Daniel’s sector were gone by the time he arrived there. He didn’t waste any time in leaping into the nearest one, sealing the gleaming chrome door behind him, strapping himself in, and pressing the eject button. His stomach dropped as the escape pod disengaged from the Elkhound’s artificial gravity – it was a miracle that the gravity drive was still working when the airlocks had failed – and then we watched through a small viewport as he sped away from his drowning ship.

He bid his love farewell as he took the controls and directed the pod towards the nearest large gravitational well. The Elkhound and her sister ships – the Deerfish and the Steel Caribou – had been carrying reinforcements – including the ships themselves – from the Blackfrost system to New Dominica, having run the blockade at Blackfrost and taken a circuitous route to the center of the alliance. They had been so close to their destination when the Jalhalite warships struck; another day would have seen them at the edge of the New Dominica system.

But they would never reach their goal now. Daniel watched sadly as the Elkhound exploded in a dazzling array of very short-lived light, the only one of the fleet to successfully detonate itself. The maintenance man smiled cynically as he counted the damage done to the Jalhalites by the explosion. He counted at least seven small craft severely damaged, and at least two mediums destroyed, not to mention a horde of strikecraft. It hadn’t been bad. But how many New Dominicans had died? How many of our strikecraft were destroyed? How many escaped?

The Jalhalites had been waiting for them; doubtless the Terrans had posted defenses at all systems near New Dominica that could be used for fueling. The attacking fleet had been a large one – two large battleships, four medium battlecruisers, and about twenty smaller vessels. Over twenty-five Jalhalite ships to the New Dominican’s three – and the Jalhalite ships were more advanced and better-armed, having been outfitted with the best Juxtani and Human technology, while the New Dominican ships were old, bulky, slow, and under-armed. Daniel and his fellows had never stood a chance.

The Terrans had jumped out from behind an asteroid cluster when the New Dominican fleet had been forced to stop in the orbit of an uninhabited system to recharge their fuel cells. The Steel Caribou had gone down before anyone knew what was going on, vaporized at the center of a web of concentrated energy-fire. Daniel was glad he hadn’t been on board.

The Deerfish had managed to open fire before she went down, and it was those few precious moments of weaponfire that had allowed the Elkhound to survive for as long as it did. In its few moments of battle, the Deerfish had managed to cripple one of the larger vessels and destroy four of the smaller ones, as well as severely damage one of the medium ships. Then it, too, succumbed to energy-fire, leaving the Elkhound all alone.

Even then, the last ship had put up a brave fight, finishing off the damaged medium-sized ship and destroyed another five small ships. The energy beam that spelled doom for the Elkhound had been from the undamaged large vessel, which even now was directing the efforts to regroup the fleet and capture any enemy strikecraft remaining.

It would be a while before the lifepod reached the nearest gravity well of sufficient size – New Dominica itself. Daniel had no hopes about actually surviving uncaptured once he reached the Jalhalite blockade, but he might as well try. Besides, they might keep him alive as a prisoner. Daniel was no soldier; for him, imprisonment was better than death. He might believe that freedom and independence were worth dying for in the abstract, but when it came down to his own personal survival, he would rather be a living slave than a dead freeman.

Behind Daniel, the Jalhalite strikecraft began to scour the area for any lifepods. Daniel didn’t even bother to hide from them at first; he didn’t care how or where he was captured, but just wanted to remain alive. He quickly noticed, however, that the strikecraft weren’t capturing most of the pods; many of them were simply being destroyed en masse. Bloody Jalhalites, Daniel thought, praying that he was too far away to be caught. At least if I make it to New Dominica, my lifepod will pose enough of a mystery that they’ll immediately take me on board.

I hope.

Fortunately, Daniel was well out of the sweep’s range, and his pod soared at an astonishing speed out of the asteroid belt. It would take him quite a while to reach New Dominica; it had been a day’s ride away using the Elkhound’s engines, and the pitiful things in the lifepod couldn’t go half as fast. Normally, lifepods had slower-than-light engines, which would have meant that Daniel was stranded forever. However, the New Dominicans had made a very covert deal with the pseudo-civilization of Gorano-Banditry, and so had acquired experimental technology allowing vessels as small as lifepods to travel for brief distances through the Interstices – what Humans still sometimes called the Ethyr – an alternate dimension that one could enter, travel in, and then emerge back into real space and be in a totally different location; similar to the pre-Juxtani idea of hyperspace. Ships traveled through the vastness of space by frequently flitting between the two dimensions, abusing the laws of physics in the Ethyr to travel fast than the speed of light.

The engines on the lifepod were much slower than those on most ships, of course. The pod’s computer informed Daniel that the journey to New Dominica – if that was indeed the source of the gravity well, which Daniel was very sure it was, seeing as the current system did not register as it had no planets, only asteroids and comets – would take about five days. It can only go one-fifth as fast, Daniel mused, strangely calm in the face of almost-certain death. No Human had ever made a lifepod journey of that length successfully. Maybe a Juxtani had; who knew?

But it was either try that or die. Daniel set the autopilot to direct him towards New Dominica and then activated the machine that would put him into a state of suspended animation, leaving instructions for it to wake him shortly before arrival or if something unusual happened. Gas began to hiss out the sides of the cockpit as needles gently pricked his skin.

Daniel thought of his wife as the emptiness took him.

Just a brief update – there’s been almost no progress on Torrek’s Slumber (the title of which will likely change soon), as I have been busy editing Dark Aeons – and the first editing read-through has been completed! Additionally, “Dark Prophecy” has also been edited by Peter Merlin, and is finished now in its entirety! Waiting for his editing on the other stories and on Michael Ireland’s work on The Libel of Blood. I expect to make some progress in Torrek’s Slumber and a few short story projects soon though!

I am pleased to announce that I have finished the initial writing of all of the short stories to appear in Dark Aeons! “Afflatus Divine” and “Ascenscion” have both been finished. I was happy with “Afflatus Divine” for the most part, but couldn’t get the feel of a good ending right. Parts one and two are better than three, I’m afraid to say. “Ascenscion” was just a fin little short piece, included in its entirety below.

And what now? Now I focus on Torrek’s Slumber mostly, and continue to slowly edit the short stories and send them off to their editor, Peter Merlin, while I wait for Michael Ireland to work on The Libel of Blood. Mr. Merlin is currently editing “The Winds of Madness,” “Dark Prophecy,” “The Silver Door,” and “The Wolf’s Key.”

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Ascension

The old priest smiled and raised his hands to the sky. “They come for me now, my followers! My chariot of fire, come to take me up to heaven!” The crowd gathered at the feet of the old man looked up at the sky in awe as a bright spot appeared and then grew, its light soaring through the sky to illuminate the priest’s balding head. He held his right arm up in benediction and smiled. “I leave you now, my flock, but you are in good hands! My altar boy will serve you well, and you now know all you need to know. I shall see you when heaven descends again to meet Earth!”

The priest closed his eyes and again lifted up his arms. The column of light struck him head on on, and the pillar of brightness soon became too much to look at. As the crowd shielded their eyes, the pillar expanded and then contracted. As the light began to dim, the crowd again turned their eyes to it. They all saw a dark patch in the center of the figure began to rise up along the column of light, gaining speed as it ascended higher and higher. Some even fancied they could see his hand raised in benediction.

The altar boy, though, standing to the side of the column, could see into its heart with eyes unclouded. He saw the light for what it truly was. The small bodies of millions of tiny, winged imps, glowing with a foul inner light, had soared down from the sky and surrounded his mentor, clawing at his limbs and tearing his clothes. He alone could see the terror reflected on his master’s face as he was dragged up into the sky, faster and faster, by those terrible winged things, up into a realm of eternal torment. As the crowd marveled at the priest’s ascension, the altar boy despaired. He had not ascended – he had been taken to the skies by foul daemons! But who would believe him?

And what fate awaited the new priest now?

I am very far behind already, but the prologue to Torrek’s Slumber is done!

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The old being leaned back and sighed, his eyes flitting over the treetops below him, bathing in the last light of the dying day. He could feel the life seeping out of his body, and with it went the source of power. He bid farewell to the microorganisms departing his ailing shell, and wished them well in whatever ventures lay yet to come. The rock beneath him was covered in dense moss that cushioned his aching bones, and would provide his tenants with a most suitable place to rest.

                In the distance, towards the setting star of the planet Tal’kan, a thin stream of smoke crossed the sky as the inhabitants of the distant village of Mantuun lit the communal fire in the town square. The old being’s lips curled upwards in a friendly smile as he imagined the scene: families from across the village gathered around the fire, the product of a long day of labor. The day’s catch would be roasted over the open flames, and the young men and women would boast of their daring feats in catching this yarin or that urynx, while the elders told tales of ancient glory to the children who would gather around them.

                It was a good life for all. The Ittek peoples took from Tal’kan only what they needed to survive, and lived long, full lives with almost no worldly possessions. They respected Tal’kan and paid him his dues, and Tal’kan allowed them to live peacefully upon his skin. It all worked.

                For now.

                Deep within his failing heart, the old being knew that this harmony was not eternal. It was in the nature of any being with sentient intelligence and will to try to improve his material lot, and give himself more than he needed. And with that, came waste. And with waste came pollution. And with enough pollution – the slumbering giant would awaken.

                It had happened before; a few isolated villages had managed to regain aspects of their technology, lost long ago in a terrible disaster. Three of these villages had risen during the being’s own lifetime, and he had been forced to destroy them all – man, woman, and child.

                It was a hard task to bear, and the destruction of those villages – still so innocent, and yet full of such dangerous potential – had been the worst moments of the old being’s long life. But the Ittek were learning, and more and more villages were beginning to cluster together, forming what came very close to resembling cities, and the development of disturbing levels of technology in some of the larger clusters was becoming a more and more frequent occurrence.

                Genocide on a massive scale would soon become necessary to hold the Ittek in restraint. They could not be allowed to venture beyond the continent of Itteros, and they could not disturb Tal’kan’s body to any great extent. Were his Order powerful enough, it would have been far easier to merely wipe the Ittek off the face of the planet and leave it at that. Even if the Order was that powerful, however, the old being could never have brought himself to do it. All life was sacred; the Order had taught him that. It was a cruel joke played by the Elders that all life also seemed hell-bent on destroying all that was not their kind.

                The tendrils of smoke began to thicken, and the old being smiled once more, his dark thoughts broken. Still, that day was long off. It would certainly be longer off than his body would last.

                Footsteps sounded on the path behind him, leading up to the ledge upon which the old being sat. A figure with dark skin and a growing black beard, clad in the traditional green and yellow cloak of the Order, rushed about the bend in the Cliffside path.

                “Beastheart,” the old being said calmly. The newcomer stopped beside the being and knelt.

                “I came when I felt your tor leaving you.”

                “Very good, very good,” the old being said. The old being himself looked much like the younger one kneeling beside him, save with even darker skin and a long, flowing beard of glistening silver. “Tell me, what do you see out in the distance?”

                The younger being turned. “Smoke, master. From the village of Mantuun. Likely preparing their meal for the evening. They are harmless.”

                The old being coughed. “Yes, that is what you see. But there is more, Beastheart. There is life there. The souls that created the fire that gives off that smoke are no less important than yours, or mine, or those of the trees that surround us. Remember that always, Beastheart. For too long has the Order sneered at the Ittek living their humble lives under the light of Tal’kan’s star. They may have the dark potential in their souls to destroy this world, but until that potential is realized, they are more innocent than we are. Always remember that.”

                “I will,” promised the younger being. He looked troubled. “Are you dying, master?”

                “Passing on,” the older being replied. He smiled. “It’s about time, too. I have watched over the Order for three dateyns. I have seen those I love grow old and die around me, while I live on always. It is a cursed life, this long one that chose me. And now, Beastheart, it has chosen you. The tor have spoken. You shall lead the Order when I am gone.”

                The young being looked speechless. “But master, surely there is a better-”

                “There are none better, Beastheart,” the old being continued. “You understand the true goal of our Order better than any other. We are to keep the slumbering giant asleep, and not let him wake until the time is right. We are to protect Tal’kan and ensure that it is not wounded. We are to use whatever means necessary to keep the spirit of the planet safe, and to protect those creatures that cannot protect themselves from the dangers of civilization. The dangers of civilization, Beastheart – not from civilization itself. The Order, I fear, has lost the true meaning of those words over time…”

                There was silence for a few moments. “Before my tor pass onto you, Beastheart, there are secrets that you must know. Things that only the warden of the Order can ever know.

“For all is not what it seems.”

That’s right! I sat down today and literally went through and edited one hundred and sixty (160!) pages of manuscript in one day, finishing the first edit of The Libel of Blood! I’ll be shipping it off to Mr. Ireland soon for his views on the matter, and while I wait, I have some other projects!

Firstly, Dark Aeons is also in the process of being edited, and I will be continuing to go through those tales, and finishing the last two I will be putting in there – “Afflatus Divine” and “Ascenscion.” Hopefully it will be released at about the same time as The Libel of Blood, but probably will come out a little bit later.

My other project is my next novel! For Camp NaNoWriMo in July and August, I will be working on a project tentatively titled Torrek’s Slumber, taking place in the Juxian Mythos world, involving (in the immortal words of my brother – TechnoDruids. I’ll keep you all up to date on things!

Avast! A short story I wrote recently – the “secret project” I’ve been alluding to of late – is finally published in Space Adventure Magazine, published by ER Mixon of Science Adventure Press! My contribution, “The Derelict,” is a science fiction horror story, that I describe as across between Lovecraft and Firefly, with a dash of Pratchett thrown in! I was rather proud of it, and I recommend that you all go out and purchase this independently published magazine so that you can read both my story and the other ones in there! It will be available on more platforms soon, but currently is available as a PDF here, for the bargain price of $2.99 USD!

And just to whet your appetite, here’s an excerpt from “The Derelict”:

“Going in – this is a big one, Reggie. Wonder what took it down.”

“Scans show very little surface damage; just an abrasion portside, near the rear. Not a large one, though – looks like it’s only a meter or two long. Nothing serious.”

“Then whatever got them came from inside,” Diana murmured.

“Aye, looks like. Probably just bad air filtration or something. But be careful anyway.”

Diana rolled her eyes. As if she was ever not careful. She finished placing the charges around the airlock’s exterior lock, and then moved a few meters down the length of the derelict ship, pulling herself along using bright orange cables that she had pinned to the hull. Once she was a safe distance away, she pressed the big red button in the center of the remote held in her right hand. The charges exploded silently, blasting open the airlock’s exterior door. The flames from the explosion managed to survive a few seconds in the outpouring of oxygen before their fuel supply was cut off and dispersed.

“Right. Time to see what we’ve got here.”

Reggie didn’t say anything as she watched Diana move back towards the now very open airlock from the safety of their ship. Her ship. The Buzzard, she was called; an apt name for what her crew did. Reggie preferred to think of her current day job as that of a recycler, making sure that nothing went to waste. More polite members of society would probably have called her a salvager, a derelict stripper, or a vulture. What she did for science.

“Is Diana in yet, cap’n?” called a voice from behind Reggie. She swiveled around in her bright orange plush chair and shook her head as a rather large man stepped onto the bridge.

“Just about though,” she added, pointing through the window behind her with her thumb. She shook her curly black hair out of her eyes. The man looked over the captain’s shoulder and nodded.

“She’s in now.”

Reggie swiveled back around again and watched Diana vanish into the airlock. Her voice came in over the communications channel a moment later. “Place seems empty – I’m in a side corridor, looks like. No signs of life – or death, even. Not here. Surprisingly clean, really…

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If you want to read the rest, buy the issue!