Necromancer has been submitted.
It's in.
Whether or not it will be out on time is up to Kindle. When I set up the book, I tried to do it for pre-order, as many fans requested. Because of this it may have gotten delayed, because of a technicality. That's my fault, for not understanding the pre-order system. I'm guessing that it might be sooner than that, once someone shows up and processes it properly, but we'll see.
There will be a minor update likely later on this month as the remainder of the book goes through final editing. You'll know it's the final when Emily Harris' name pops up. I'm expecting the edits to be minor, so I wouldn't worry too much. As usual, feel free to submit any errors and I will try my best to include them in the corrections.
Oh, and my earlier report that the book was only 340,000+ words long? I messed up. It's embarrassing, but I forgot to add ten chapters. I corrected that. New word count is 386,000 -- closer to my 400,000 goal.
To tide you over, here's an extended excerpt of the first chapter. Because you shouldn't have to suffer.
Much.
Prologue
I watched my son’s face
contort into an expression of fascinated terror as he ran for his life. His face was red and flushed, and his eyes
had the wild look of one desperately dodging a predator as he searched for the
danger he knew lurked nearby. A moment
later a blood-curdling, ear-splitting scream from his sister informed him of
where his predator was hiding.
Desperate, he rolled across
the floor and under the trestle table, just as his foe appeared.
“WHERE IS THAT TASTY LITTLE
BOY?” a great voice boomed, making him shiver in terror. “WHERE IS MY BREAKFAST?”
Minalyan clapped his hands
over his mouth to keep from screaming in horror. When the huge figure finally crept into the
room, one could see why the lad was terrified: the great beard and hair of the
creature was a chaotic sight, standing up and out like so many spikes. The eyes between were wide and scary, and the
mouth that called for the unlikely meal was smeared with the residue of his
previous victims . . . raspberry tarts.
“Here I am!” Minalyan finally
announced, rolling out from under the trestle and leaping atop a stool with
surprising alacrity. He brandished a
three-day old long baguette in his hands like a greatsword and challenged the
monster. “You will not eat me!”
“I will eat every tasty
morsel!” the Flour Monster roared, as he charged. Minalyan didn’t hesitate – with a mighty
swing of his stale weapon he leapt across the kitchen and delivered a fury of
blows that defeated the beast and broke the batard into two, sending it flying
across the kitchen as the Flour Monster howled and growled at the heat of the
combat. Almina stood in the doorway,
eyes wide and hands over her mouth as she watched her big brother duel with the
giant ogre who periodically snuck into their home after work and terrorized
them.
As valiant as Minalyan’s attack
was, no one defeats the Flour Monster.
I’d learned that a lifetime ago.
He picked up the little boy
and swung him into the air, ripping up his tunic and burying his bushy, floury
beard into his tender belly and began chomping.
Minalyan erupted into a squirmy, giggly scream that was only slightly
less nerve-slicing than his sister’s, until he begged for the Flour Monster to
relent and release him.
“Run along now,” my father
said with an exhausted sigh, as he gave each of them a raspberry tart from the
shop and sent them outside to play in the yard.
“That is so much fun,” he admitted, out of breath from the infant-eating
effort as he sat on the stool Min vacated.
“But I don’t remember being this tired when I ate you and your sisters
for breakfast.”
“We were easier to catch,” I
assured him with a smile. “And
twenty-odd years ago, children were slower and more docile.”
We both chuckled at that – my
father had been enjoying his grandchildren immensely, both my two and the brood
that Urah and Borsa brought with them when my family came to Sevendor. While the other two sisters and their
husbands were preparing to return to Tudry-on-Burine in Varune with my father,
Urah’s and Borsa’s husbands had elected to stay in their brother’s barony and
run the prosperous bakery here.
My father was surrounded by
his grandchildren – and then some. All
four of his girls and his son had spent the last year or so keeping him in a
state of paternal bliss as he got to know them all. The entire family had taken residence in the
Baker’s Hall – an elaborate home I’d had constructed for the purpose – within
the outer bailey of the castle.
Dad spent most of the day at
the bakery, as he had since long before I was born, but when he was ready to
turn the day’s bake over to his apprentices, he brought home a basket of
whatever goodies he’d made that day and – on certain occasions – would slick up
his hair with flour and water to create the role that had terrified and
delighted us since we were tots.
“You’ve got a brave one,
there,” he nodded admiringly to my son chasing his little sister into the
yard. “I’ve been whacked by more stale
bread this year than in the twenty before.
He doesn’t shy away from being scared, like Almina,” he observed.
“She enjoys being scared too
much to attack – she’s three,” I reminded him.
“Reminds me of Borsa, at her
age,” he recalled fondly. “Always a
squealer, that one. But that boy of
yours is braver than them all,” he said, referring to my three nephews who’d
arrived with the rest of my family. All
good, strong boys . . . but with more sense than boldness. Minalyan, on the other hand, was
fearless. He must get it from his
mother.
“He’d better be,” I
sighed. “He’ll have to defend this
place, when I’m gone. Timidity is not
oft a characteristic of a magelord. It’s
like he wants to fight the world. He’s
gotten worse about it since . . . since his mother went away,” I said, trying
to say the words casually. “He’ll
approach a stray dog, bold as brass, and demand it identify itself.”
“When is he going to get to
see her again?” my father asked, hesitantly.
It was a touchy subject, and he knew it.
For months I’d been obsessed with discovering some way, either mundane
or arcane, to restore my wife Alya’s mind to her after it had been shattered
during the Wizard War at Greenflower.
She was fine, physically – on
that the brightest medical and magical minds of the kingdom could agree. But her psyche had sustained a powerful shock
by a witchstone she’d destroyed. Since
that fateful night, she’d been in the care of the priestesses of Trygg at the
Holy Hill abbey. I visited every
fortnight, sometimes more.
But there had been scant
improvement for months, until I’d discovered that the legendary Sorceress of
Sartha Wood was, in fact, a slightly-batty Alka Alon rebel imprisoned with her
staff in a small compound in the middle of the upper Riverlands – one who was
trained in ancient human medicine and advanced Alka Alon magic. Lilastien, as she was properly known, had
taken over Alya’s care at Yule and she’d shown some immediate improvement. But there were limits to what even the
Sorceress could accomplish.
“Soon, I hope,” I answered,
non-committally. “She’s getting a little
better every day.”
It wasn’t a lie. She was.
But “better” is a relative term, judged by condition. On any given day she wasn’t as bad as the
previous day – therefore she was “better”.
It wasn’t a lie.
But the truth was Alya wasn’t
going to get much better on her own.
That, at least, Lilastien the Sorceress had been able to tell me. In fact, the only treatment she even
suspected might help was locked away deep in a cavern under a ruined city
inhabited by humanity’s deadliest foes.
The only way it could be of help was to recover an ancient spirit from
inside a rock and somehow bring it back to Sevendor, where it might be able to
glue Alya’s fractured mind back together.
Maybe. Possibly.
If I could figure out and overcome more obstacles and barriers than any
mage had before. If I could manage an
enchantment that no one had any idea how to cast, much less cast properly. If I could manage all that and do so without
getting myself killed, Alya might, possibly, with the help of the gods and more
fortune than I was ever due, recognize her children again. Maybe.
“So, you’ve decided to go
after it, then?” he asked, softly, knowing my thoughts without me
speaking. Dad is quite intuitive, for a
baker.
“I don’t see that I have much
choice,” I said, resigned. “The
Handmaiden is the only thing I’ve even heard about that might work.”
“It seems a hard thing,
depending upon an old legend for hope,” he offered.
“I wish this was an old
legend,” I snorted. “Most old legends
have a grain of truth to them. This is
just a half-remembered encounter from the mind of a half-crazy old Alka Alon
lady from centuries ago. And it’s the
best course I have left.”
“Minalan, you said that
Handmaiden was in a cave, deep under a city that you’ve already seen ruined
once,” he reminded me. “On an island in
the middle of a lake in mountains higher than these, guarded by dragons and
covered with goblins.”
“Yes,” I nodded. “That is what I said.”
He sighed expressively, and
started to shake the dried flour from his beard. “But you’re going to go, anyway,” he
concluded.
“Yes. Yes, I am.
Alone, if I have to.”
“No, you won’t go alone,” he
said, shaking his head and sending a shower of flour to the wooden floor. “You have too many friends who are too eager
to help you. But be careful, Min,” he
cautioned. “I know you’re a big, tough
warmage and wizard and all, but . . .”
“But walking into Olum Seheri
like it’s a baronial fair and expecting to find what I need is suicidal,
stupid, and hopelessly naïve?”
“I knew you were a smart one,”
he snorted.
“I know the dangers, Dad. Or at least I suspect I do. And it’s far, far more dangerous than you
think,” I informed him. “Olum Seheri
isn’t just full of goblins, it’s full of undead. My apprentices made a full report, and the
place is crawling with walking corpses.
Led by Korbal the Necromancer.”
“The ‘demon god of the Mindens’,”
he chuckled, wryly. “Now that is an old
legend.”
“And one with more than a
grain of truth to it,” I agreed. “He’s
actually not a god at all, just a powerful Alka Alon necromancer who pissed off
the Council, a thousand years ago or so.
They imprisoned him in a tomb along with his followers. Unfortunately, he was awakened by yet more of
his followers. Now they’re building an
army, raising dragons, and generally threatening . . . well, everything.”
My dad shook his head
again. “I don’t know how you wizards do
it,” he admitted. “I’ve watched you
pursue your craft for years, one way or another. Warmagic, spellmongering, and now . . . all
this,” he said, gesturing toward my barony at large. “It seems too much work. Compared to baking,” he added.
I didn’t take offense – I am
in a profession that prides itself on obscurity and obfuscation. And while the practice of magic, on its own,
doesn’t mandate that sort of mysterious approach, the business of magic encourages
it.
“Honestly, the heart of a wizard’s
work isn’t even about magic,” I decided.
“It’s about getting things done.
Either for a client or yourself.
Mostly by convincing other people to do the hard parts for you.”
“That’s what apprentices are
for,” he nodded and smiled. Over the
years Dad had trained at least eight or nine apprentices. Four of them had married my sisters.
“Oh, they’re helpful,” I
agreed, “but that’s not what I’m speaking of.
“A wizard’s Talent provides
access to power, but even with a witchstone that’s not usually enough to
accomplish much. Oh, I do things with
magic all the time – but being a wizard goes beyond mastering the arcane. It is far more about knowing when and how to
use magic to change the universe. And
when not to use magic, and use more subtle means instead.”
“So what’s the point of
studying so damn much magic?” he asked.
It was a common complaint of his that I had Ruderal and Dara, my two
apprentices, constantly reading and taking notes on seven centuries of
accumulated knowledge and lore about our profession. Dard considered that excessive. But then most bakers weren’t even
literate.
“The magic opens the door,” I
explained, struggling for a metaphor.
“But it is your understanding of the universe that gives you the
ambition to go through it. To be honest,
most of my work these days involves wandering around, talking to people,
listening to things, and quietly arranging for them to want to do what I want
them to do. Sometimes by persuasion,
sometimes by coercion, but one of the benefits of wisdom is understanding
enough about the limitations of your own power that you can get other people to
do the heavy lifting.”
“Sounds more like a priest
than a wizard.” Dad wasn’t unfamiliar
with the priesthood. As a master baker,
he was a high-ranking lay member of the Temple of Briga.
“The two are not dissimilar,”
I agreed. “The difference is that –
ideally – a wizard is convincing other people to do things for the greater
good. A priest does so for the glory or
adoration of his divinity. The two are not
always the same.”
“So what was Dunselen doing
for the greater good?” he asked, curious.
It was an insightful question.
Anyone who dismissed Dad’s wit because of his choice of profession was
an idiot.
“Believe it or not, I think
Dunselen was trying to figure out how the Snowstone spell worked. Which would have been for the greater
good. His methods, on the other hand,
were not particularly ethical.” I wasn’t
even going to mention Isily’s role in his researches – or his ethical
breeches. Dad knew enough of the story
to not bring her up. He’d even met the
two grandchildren Isily bore me, against my will, when Taren brought them
briefly to Sevendor for examination.
“Dunselen was a good mage, objectively speaking, but a very poor
wizard.”
“So what makes you a good
wizard?”
“I get other people to do
stuff for me as much as possible,” I decided.
“And I try not to lose sight of the important things. Like the greater good.”
“Or providing a mother for
your children,” he added, as he watched Almina chase her brother, now, as he
chased a chicken through the yard.
“Or defending the kingdom
against goblin invasion, undead incursions, and the occasional dragon. Yes, there is a lot to it. Especially at my level. And to be honest, there are limits to what I can
do. Magic might give me leverage, but
it’s often as problematic as it is helpful.
I think I probably accomplish as much by subtlety and a whispered word
in the right ear as I do with incantations and irionite. But I must continue to study it,” I continued. “Indeed, I have an appointment with Kedaran
the Black this afternoon. To study
necromancy.”
Dad shivered, involuntarily,
and I couldn’t blame him. He hadn’t even
seen a walking corpse before. I
had. I didn’t have the heart to explain
to him that the reality was far worse than his imaginings.
“That’s the part of this
profession I don’t like,” he admitted, through pursed lips. “The enchantments are helpful. The spells have turned this place into a
going concern. But when you delve into
such dark places, Min . . . I worry.”
“You should,” I agreed,
emphatically. “Necromancy is . . . it’s
not something Imperial magic has encouraged a study of for a reason. Reanimation is creepy, and fraught with ethical
dilemmas. It’s one step beyond human
sacrifice, according to some scholars, and merely a natural extension of
already-existing magical principles to their logical conclusion, according to
another group. A smaller group,” I
added. “And yes, everyone thinks they’re
creepy.”
“Well, you play around with
dead people, folk are going to talk,” he observed.
“It’s not something you can
get away with in the village,” I agreed.
“Necromancy was all but forbidden by the Censorate. It was a moot point, for the most part,
because without irionite, it took a necromancer three or four days to
accumulate enough power to cast the spell.
It only lasted a few hours, and the results were usually . . .
disappointing. So very few went past
basic theory. And those who did were
subject to penalties.”
“So why do it at all? Seems . . . creepy.”
“Because Korbal is a
necromancer, and he’s studied necromancy for longer than humanity has been on
this world. Not only are he and his
followers undead, the creatures he’s creating out of the corpses of slaves are
far more sophisticated than anything human necromancers have ever
produced. I need to know more about the
practice, at least in theory, if I am going to be able to challenge him.”
Dad winced – he’d never gotten
over the idea of me risking my life, and I’m sure the idea of me fighting
against some undead ghoul was abhorrent.
“Son,” he said, which he almost never called me unless he was about to
impart some profound piece of fatherly wisdom, “perhaps I’ve been too
preoccupied by the possibility of my own death to see the subject as one for
much study – except in how to avoid it.
But it doesn’t exactly seem wholesome to be mucking around with such
things.”
“Wizards do a great many
things that aren’t very wholesome,” I chuckled, thinking of some of my warmagic
buddies. “Death magic is particularly
slippery to consider, for a host of technical reasons beyond the mere moral
issues. It’s a natural human
fascination,” I pointed out. “You
yourself admit to thinking about it. Too
much,” I emphasized.
“When a man has this many
grandchildren, he knows his time among them is limited,” he sighed. “Don’t worry, I feel hale enough . . . for my
age. But every winter is harder, and one
more closer to the last one. Any father
understands that,” he said, gently. “Nor
is there shame or worry in it. But I
wouldn’t mind not dying,” he added.
“The quest for immortality has
been constant among humanity,” I said, philosophically. “The Wenshari magi had an entire cult around
it. Necromancy is a natural magical
extension of that desire, with dreadfully disappointing results. No human spell has managed more than the
simplest reanimation. Your soul doesn’t
get popped back into your body. Your
dead flesh is merely propelled by magic at the direction of another. Like I did with the water elemental in the
pond, only with rotting human flesh instead of nice, clean water.”
“But not Korbal,” Dad said, as
he poured water into the basin to wash the flour off of his face.
“No, Korbal’s necromancy does
allow some bit of your mind to return,” I conceded. “That’s the problem. He’s using a very sophisticated necromancy .
. . and I don’t even know simple necromancy.”
“You’ll figure it out, Min,”
he said, confidently, as he patted his face dry with a towel, and then tossed
it on the side of the basin where my mother could complain about it. “You’re a smart lad. Always were.
We’re going to miss you,” he sighed.
“I’m going to miss you all,
too,” I agreed. “The kids,
especially. They’ve kept Min and Almina
distracted, and that’s worth a lot to me.”
Dad and Baron Lithar had come to an arrangement to re-open the bakery
back in Tudry, after the Temple of Briga lifted its interdiction on the
barony.
They were planning on leaving
in just a few more weeks. Dad was only
taking half of the household he left with, as two of his former apprentices
would be staying on here, with my sisters, and continue to run the Sevendor
Town bakery. Mom and Dad had enjoyed
getting to know their grandchildren and their daughter-in-law, but it was time
for them to head back home and we all knew it.
“They’re beautiful children,”
he assured me. “As pretty as their
mother, as smart as their father. All
your children are beautiful. But they’ll
be happier with their mother. If you can
find a way to restore her . . .”
“I’ve done almost nothing
else,” I agreed. “This is likely the
best option I have.”
“Then do what you have to do,
Son,” he said.
For no particular reason, his
words filled me with confidence I hadn’t felt before. I wasn’t exactly fishing for his validation,
but getting it unexpectedly made it all the more potent.
“I will, dad,” I
promised. “If it means chasing Korbal
into his darkest cellar and beating him to death the bloody stump of his own
arm, then I’ll find a way to do it. Are
their more tarts? Those were delicious!”
I cant wait to read Necromancer, and Terry, no hospital trips!!! We're only a third way thru the seroes!!!
ReplyDeleteIt looks like you can pre-order the book right now, it's showing a release date of Oct. 4.
ReplyDeleteIndeed it is, hopefully there is a way to change the date to correct one https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0762D5QS1
ReplyDeleteNow pre-ordered and excited like a goblin the night before meeting Sherul. Its going to be awesome but i'm also scared cause the emotional roller coaster im about to ride!
ReplyDeleteMaybe if you feed us a chapter a day before Necromancer comes out we could survive until the 4th. I'd rather it comes out on the 1st. I'm hooked. Can't stand the wait. I really like the cover. I know it's temporary. I hoping for some interactions with min and the female fharacters. You've been developing some strong women in these stories and I like when they help with the heavy lifting. Heck, I like all the characters.
ReplyDeleteMin's relationship with strong female characters is a repeating bit in this book.
DeleteMaybe if you feed us a chapter a day before Necromancer comes out we could survive until the 4th. I'd rather it comes out on the 1st. I'm hooked. Can't stand the wait. I really like the cover. I know it's temporary. I hoping for some interactions with min and the female fharacters. You've been developing some strong women in these stories and I like when they help with the heavy lifting. Heck, I like all the characters.
ReplyDelete"Tudry-on-Burine"
ReplyDeleteI thought the village was Talry? Tudry is the town near the penumbra.
Godsdamnit. It's on the list. Thanks.
Delete(After Necromancer, there will be no more confusion about Talry and Tudry.)
DeleteFixed. Thanks.
DeleteMin also has 5 sisters. One seems to have been left out.
DeleteWell that seems like a dark portent of things to come Terry. Or is Tudry hosting a name changing festival? ;)
ReplyDeleteAlso- Dard considered that excessive. But then most bakers weren’t even literate. - typo for Dad?
Best regards and thanks so much for creating this world for my imagination to play in.
Love the sample! Need my next fix already though! Also, since everyone else is helping. . .
ReplyDeleteIn the last line of the chapter. I think you have their instead of there "are there more tarts?"
Ishi's tits! Thans! Fixed.
DeleteHey Terry, seems like others hit what I saw. Do you need another proofreader?
ReplyDeleteWell, I could put off releasing it another month . . . try to fix every little thing before I let anyone see it . . . honestly, it's a process. I will be doing an update of collected errors that escaped me. I may have missed a few from my current proofreaders - in fact, I know I have. Still working on it, but it's locked for release at the moment. I won't be able to update until after it's out. Sorry about that. I have reasons for timing the release the way I did.
DeleteSob...Oct 4th. Pain and anguish.
ReplyDeleteSo honest question. This post makes it seem the release date could get bumped forward. Because of this vague statement and the confirmation email from Amazon when I pre-ordered says it is a "estimated release date" I have been checking here, facebook, and amazon on an almost hourly basis. Is this something that is likely to be changed and I just need to chill until Wed. I am unfamiliar with this exact situation with Amazon and kindle services and would like to ask just how likely it is something will shift so I can spare my nerves.
ReplyDeleteHonest answer: I don't know, yet. We might have to wait for Wednesday. That would suck for us all.
DeleteShould we as fans all start calling Amazon? ;)
DeleteIn the last para, "with the bloody stump". Also I thought Utah's husband was a blacksmith. Love your books.
ReplyDeleteSorry that was Urah's husband
DeleteYeah I forgot about that. Urah's husband was the only one who wasn't a baker.
DeleteAwww, looks like it isn't going to come out today.. And I was planning to read it nonstop for the next 24 hours or so :P
ReplyDelete*cries* I want it now! :P hehe. Oh well, I'll just have to play some Baldur's Gate in the meantime to keep me busy
DeleteBaker's Hall or Bakers' Hall ?
ReplyDeleteethical breeches -> breaches
(*groan*) start a list . . .
DeleteIt's like, we're SO hungry, and all that great food is on the table, and just as you reach for the mashed potatoes, Uncle Amazon says, "Now, before we eat, we should..."
ReplyDelete.....just a little more.....also reading about the kids is nice, they sound so cute....nothing like my own cousins or nephews.....xD
ReplyDeleteSpeaking of which, I had been looking to see about what he was doing with his new kids from Isily. Kinda shocked that he is not taking a more active role in their upbringing. I expected Min to want to adopt them as his wards or something like that.
DeleteI would not worry to much, I suspect they will end up with Trygg for a Nanny.
DeleteYeah I admit I was a little surprised about that too. From what we can tell Narisi culture doesn't seem to have any issues with fathers siring and raising basterds so long as they are not from the upper tiers of the nobility.
DeleteHowever in other fuedal areas having illegitimate children raised in the care of other family or by close friends was often what happened.
How about chapter 1....my preorder is taking too long.
ReplyDeleteLess than 29 hrs to go.
ReplyDeleteJust reread the blurb on Facebook. My gods Terry you'really killing me here.
ReplyDeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteThis evening I'm rereading the spellmonger's yule. Hopefully I can stay up for the 1st chapter of necromancer after midnight. Earning a living is going to get in the way of the full reading until this weekend. To bad the whole date release for number 10 didn't work out. 80 chapters is going to take a while to get through but then the reread will be more relaxed. Can't wait!
ReplyDeleteI started listening to the audiobook for Spellmonger's Yule.. not sure I'll actually finish it today though. And I already know that as soon as I'm able to read Necromancer I wont want to wait
DeleteIt's OUT! Yay, I've been waiting with baited breath for this...
ReplyDeleteSigh. Not on my Kindle. I'm on EST @ 840 PM. That's a negative ghost rider
DeleteAn advantage of living in the UK then. Used to normally waiting for the US release times, so makes a change.
DeleteChapter 1 (location 456) were is repeated "The Sentry Rods were deadly magical weapons were developed"
ReplyDeleteIs there an email address to send stuff to rather than on here? Wouldn't want to spoil for people
Also location 787 "My young liege was a proud, bellicose, and not particularly bright."
DeleteWhen will the audible version be released?
ReplyDelete