Checking in with a quick update on how my current projects are coming along. I’m finishing up the second major revision on Source-Breaker, the next novel I’ll be releasing. After that comes the last few rounds of edits; hopefully, this will be ready to release by mid-December. I feel like it’s been going really slow, partly because I’ve had a lot of disruptions and the CFS is really kicking me in the backside right now, and also because there’s been a fair amount of work with adjusting characterizations and things like that. But one I get through the bottleneck of those big changes, it should go a lot faster.
The other major project I’m working on right now is the first draft of Defenders of the Wildings, the follow-up series to Daughter of the Wildings. I’m writing it all at once, like one big book; it doesn’t divide up neatly into separate novels like Daughter did. It’s more episodic, like a TV serial, and I’ll probably end up releasing it that way. Like with Daughter, what I thought would be the end of Defenders actually wasn’t and I needed to add a whole other part, bringing the action back to where it started to finish everything off. But now, after a couple of false starts and more than 150,000 words, I’m within 10,000 – 15,000 words of the end, I think. Lot of work still to go, to get it revised and cleaned up and ready to release, but Daughter of the Wildings has been picking up a whole bunch of new readers lately and I’m eager to offer more Silas and Lainie sixguns and sorcery to the world.
And just to prove that yes, this thing really does exist, here’s the prologue from Defenders (unedited, straight from my brain to the keyboard):
Amber Bay shone gold, the color of its name, in the lengthening light of the late afternoon sun as three men disembarked from the Sea Dragon, the large sailing ship that had docked just a short time ago. All three of them strode down the gangplank with an air of authority — they knew they were where they were supposed to be, and they knew what they were supposed to do. One was a tall, portly man in a long, richly-embroidered robe tied with a broad blue sash. His fair skin was burned red by the sun and wind of weeks at sea; a round, flat-topped cap sat atop his white-blond hair. The second man was nearly as tall, thin, with amber skin and curling red hair cropped close to his head. He wore a well-tailored dark suit, in the manner of wealthy businessmen on this continent, as did the third man. This man was short and powerfully muscled, ebony-skinned with a long black braid trailing down his back.
As they stepped off the gangplank, followed by a knot of half a dozen retainers and assistants, a man on shore came forward from the crowd to meet them. He was tall, dark-skinned as though deeply tanned and dark-haired, also wearing a well-made dark suit. His right forefinger sported a broad gold ring set with a dark red stone. He bowed to the three men who had just come off the ship. “Underministers. Welcome to Amber Bay and the Wildings.”
The three men nodded to him. “You are Mr. Desavias?” the tall, fair-haired man asked.
He nodded. “I am. At your service, Underministers.”
“You have the items that were discussed?” the red-haired man asked.
“I do, Underministers. That is, I have constructed a prototype according to your instructions, and we have procured more of the substance to fuel it.” He nodded to his side, and a fifth man stepped forward. This man was of middling height, lean and muscular, with skin a pale lavender bordering on gray and long dark red hair twisted into thick, ropy locks. He wore tanned leather leggings and no shirt, and was carrying a metal-bound wooden box, with sides about the length of his forearms.
“That is the substance?” the fair-haired man asked Desavias.
But it was the lavender-skinned man who answered them, speaking the tongue they spoke in with surprising fluency. “It is. A gift from the P’wagimet people in exchange for the Continental Alliance’s considerations in the past and in the future. This is only a sample. Greater quantities are being safely stored in the place where the weapons will be made.”
“Excellent,” the fair-haired man said, though he still addressed his words to Desavias rather than the P’wagimet man. “And this… material works as promised?”
“It has been extensively tested, Underminister. I think you three gentlemen and your leaders will be more than pleased,” Desavias answered.
“Good,” the red-haired underminister said, but the third foreigner’s brow creased in concern.
“Are we certain that this is absolutely necessary?” he asked his companions. “It seems to me that the cost is far greater than any benefit this tactic might provide. Even considering the generous donation of the key material by this man’s people.” He nodded to the P’wagimet man.
The other two men looked at him. “If you are having doubts, Mr. Cajali,” the fair-haired one said, “please feel free to express your doubts to the Commissioner and ask to be removed from this mission.”
Cajali’s dark face blanched grayish. “I… of course I’m not having doubts, Mr. Dorbich. If you and Mr. Semov are convinced that this measure is necessary in proportion to its cost to the success of the mission, then I will not argue with that. Expansion and Regulation are your realms of expertise, not mine; I will continue to concern myself only with affairs of business.”
“When you gentlemen have rested from your journey, we will discuss preparations for the journey to the outpost,” Desavias said. “Of course, because of the difficulties in transporting the devices, they must be manufactured much closer to the Wildings — what you call the Middle Lands. And it is more convenient to have headquarters there, as well.”
Lut Dorbich, Underminister of Expansion for the Continental Alliance’s foray into this new continent, looked at his companions. “Thank you. I believe we will be ready to depart Amber Bay in the morning. We have been forced into inactivity during the long journey; it is time to begin moving forward. Are we agreed on that?”
Yugalis Semov, Underminister of Regulation, nodded in agreement. After a brief hesitation, Gidejoni Cajali, Underminister of Enterprise, nodded as well.
“Very good,” Desavias said. “I have a carriage waiting right over here, to take you to your hotel. Follow me, please.”
Following the mage and the P’wagimet man, the three Underministers walked to a carriage waiting near the busy, crowded pier and climbed in.