Brother's Excerpt and a Project Update

Short blog post first and then an excerpted scene from Brother's Wyrd, as promised.

So the primary project, as many of you know, is called Brother's Wyrd. For those of you who don't know, 'wyrd' means 'fate' or 'destiny'. From those facts you can surmise that the story is about the fate of brothers--two actually. Rowen (junior) and Larus (elder). Not sure how much of the actual plot I want to reveal just yet, but suffice it for me to say that it is a dark tale of medieval fantasy with a tragic but positive ending. Don't ask how that's possible. I'm sure you can all think of some way or another a story could manage it. ;-) And, what was going to be a stand-alone novel has been liberated into a duology thanks to the wonders of e-publishing!

At this point volume one is 1/4 done and moving along smoothly, with a potential goal date for publication of December of next year. Yup, one year from now. In the meantime I have a team of five pre-readers and an editor (close friend of mine) and I'm planning my marketing strategy.

And now, so everyone can get an idea of my writing style, here is the first publicly (well, friends only) posted excerpt from volume one of Brother's Wyrd. I'd like to hear all of your comments on this, guys and gals. Read on, but forgive me any screw-ups that seem like formatting problems. There were some issues with exporting this from my project files!

***

Rowen stood with his eyes closed and could the feel wind and rain coursing over his body—over every inch of his naked body, but his nudity did not shame him. He could feel pain in his feet and legs, as if they were being stung by dozens of hedge wasps, but the pain did not matter here either. All was as it should be.

Where was here, came a distant thought, but like the ripples of rock skipped off the surface of a pond, it was there one moment and gone the next, leaving only the memory of its passing in its wake. Was the thought his own? No matter. He belonged here, he knew that much.

He opened his eyes and saw that he stood calf deep in the brier-filled underbrush beneath three massive ancient looking trees at the base of a steep rocky incline. The slope ended suddenly about a hundred paces up in a jagged rocky precipice. He could not see what lay below the ledge, being at the bottom of the slope as he was, but judging by the clouds that gathered beyond it, he thought that perhaps he was among the peaks of the Guardian Mountains.

He took a step forward. Thorns tore at his legs, but the pain still seemed distant somehow. Blood seeped lazily from the scratches but they were only that—scratches. The wind picked up, gusting, driving the rain against him with the faint sensation of a thousand stones pelting his skin. I should be howling in pain right now, came another skittering thought, there and gone. All was as it should be.

From somewhere above his head he heard the screech of a hawk and looked up. Not seeing the bird in flight, he sought its perch in the boughs of the three enormous trees, but he was unable to discern which the bird might be in.

Suddenly he noticed something before him; not movement, but rather something that was not there, and then just... was.

The thing before him—for surely there were few better words to describe it—was naked and nearly three hands shorter than himself, and though it had arms and legs it was not human. It's skin was the pallid gray of a week old corpse and covered in warts, pustules and dark blotches. The thing's hands had five fingers, but its feet had only four toes, each ending in a long black talon and it's mouth was split in a wicked grin, the teeth as jagged and uneven as broken glass. There were no ears, only shallow scaled dimples where they should have been. Long, thick, iron gray hair covered its head and genitals, making it impossible to tell if the beast was male or female. Of all it’s features it was the creature’s eyes that held his own. They were entirely yellow with large black pupils that shown with intelligence…and a hunger. He could not tear his gaze from the creature's own. A strange emotion wormed up inside of him and slithered across the calm he had been feeling. What was that?
 
For a long moment they stared at one another, and there was no sound save the wailing of the wind and the pounding of the rain. Then a short pointed tongue flicked across the thing's teeth, the thin lips came together, and its gaze lifted slightly, looking past his head, somewhere behind and above him.

With a voice screeching voice, each word slow and drawn out, the thing spoke "Another comes!" An air of anticipation evident in its tone.

As if in response to its words the leaves in the trees above shuddered in a cacophony of what sounded like applause, and perhaps laughter, as the wind howled once more through their branches. The serenity he had felt upon arriving began to waver. All was not as it should be any longer. Something was most definitely wrong here. He desperately clung to the failing remnant of the peace that had filled him.

A dream, that's all this is, he thought to himself, trying to let the words steel his nerves.

A long fingered hand pointed a claw in his direction as the thing screeched again, this time in a tone bordering on hysteria, "He comes!" It's gaze glanced around among the branches in the trees, as if their were an audience there. The claw lowered, though still pointing in his direction, gesturing towards his feet as it spoke again, this time with a touch of awe, "Taken the first step, has the man-child. He has been once marked for his choice!"

With the last word spoken the creature stepped toward him, its clawed feet awkwardly ripping at the earth. The strange emotion rose from somewhere deep inside of him. In complete contradiction to the utter calm he had first felt, he recognized it for what it was—stone cold fear.

Only a dream… Only a dream and nothing more! The fear pounded at his will now, hammering along side his own quickening heartbeat.

In another step the abomination was standing close enough to touch, yet Rowen found himself unable to move, his eyes locked to the creature's as a long sinewy arm darted out. With an iron grip that belied its spindly arms the creature's hand grabbed his face just beneath his jaw and slowly dragged it down until he could do nothing but fall helplessly to his knees. Thorns dug into the bare skin of his legs as he knelt hard in the thorny undergrowth, but the pain was no longer distant. Long nails felt sharp against his skin as the monster leaned closer, its breath rank with the stench of death.

Its voice came out as a grating whisper, "But once have you been marked, and that was but for your arrival, human boy." It spat out the last two words contemptuously, small droplets of spittle spattered Rowen's face and dripped from the beasts narrow, pale, cracked lips. It cocked its head sideways and gave a sinister sneer, yellow eyes gleaming with joy as it said, "You wish to seek the mysteries, child of man?" It asked as it slid the tips of its claws up Rowen's back, sending shivers down his spine before the clawed fingers grasped the back of his head, holding it tightly in place with both hands. Its eyes stared into his own, "You will learn, youngling. I will teach you," it said with a dark sneer, "but first you must give something to us, yes?"

Rowen did not understand what it meant. Naked as he was, what could he possibly have to give? He did not want to think about the possibilities. The hand that was holding Rowen's face released its grip as the creature ran a single nail painfully down along his left cheek. Then, suddenly, the nail cut deep into his flesh.

Pain and fear flared up together, completely shattering any grip he had on his self control. His eyes rolled back in his head, though he could not move otherwise, and as the beast continued to tear at the side of his face a sound began somewhere deep in his chest. A groan swelled from his barely parted lips. The groan turned to a howl of anguish and drool forced out by the rush of air was left to haphazardly dribble down his chin. Tears burst from Rowen's tightly shut eyes as blood flowed freely down his neck and chest, dripping down between his thighs and puddling in the thorns beneath him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, through the searing pain and stark terror, he was aware that he could smell the scent of burning flesh.