Published Author Or Bust!

Once again, I warn you that this is the first pre-editing draft. I’ve already been told by my local writing group that this will need serious editing and possible re-writing, but at this stage I’m happy with it in its current form. This is the prologue for The Thieves’ Guild: The Forever Secrets Trilogy, and serves as the trigger for everything that is to come…

Prologue: Breach

URGENT. FOR THE ATTENTION OF THE RECIPIENT ONLY
To: General Hanald Druart, Head of Defence Research
From: General Ernest Jerfad, Camp Rothgillen

My friend,

It is with greatest regret that I must confirm thy deepest fears have been realised. By now, thou must have read the official report I sent to the Head of Western Defence regarding the recent attack, and I pray the only questions it may raise are those I have no answers to. In accordance with our agreement, I have withheld certain information from General Laposk.

First, let me state that almost all elements of my report were true. The attack was unprovoked and unexpected. Following our correspondence, I have refrained from sending any of our men into enemy territory until we are both agreed on the right time and course of action. It is not known why the enemy chose to attack after centuries of lying dormant, and I am unwilling to investigate by way of infiltrating their camp, lest it trigger another attack.

As I have stated in the report, the enemy appeared in great numbers but I do not believe it to be their full force. The attackers were at least one thousand strong but their count was not sufficient to overpower our troops quickly. We managed to defend the camp and repel the attackers for a while, but as they gathered more to their ranks, we began to lose ground. If they had not retreated, thou wouldst not be reading this letter.

One of the enemy soldiers breached our ranks and made it into the camp. In the confusion of the battle, she was pursued by only two people: myself and Cargi, one of the agents thou hast selected for my ranks. The enemy soldier bore one of the artefacts thou didst warn me about and attempted to use it against us but she was untrained, and her erroneous use of the weapon ended her own life. As the enemy fought their way into the camp and spied her remains, a retreat was called and our foes fled to the Outer Mountains from whence they came.

In the report, I included a list of the soldiers lost in the battle. There is one name among them that should not be there: Cargi. He was the only soldier to witness the weapon and its use, so I had him brought to my tent. I am thankful the shock had stunned him into silence, else our problems would be even greater. Before any of his fellow soldiers could see it, I hid the artefact from view – taking the proper precautions, of course. Once in my tent, I secured it in my private chest and explained everything to Cargi. I apologise, my friend, but I saw no alternative in such circumstances. He seemed to take the information reasonably well, though his trauma prevented him from responding verbally.

I warned him of the need for secrecy, stressed how important it was, and had him confined to his tent, with Captain Stobert on guard. However, the captain was found unconscious in the morning and Cargi was nowhere to be found on the camp. He had deserted the camp without speaking to or confronting anyone, and none of the troops claim to have seen him that night. Knowing of his past as well as thee, I immediately checked my chest. The artefact was not there.

In order to contain this incident, I have refrained from having the camp searched for it. Only Cargi knows of its existence and I’m sure thou wouldst agree it is best if that remains the case. It will be hard enough to explain the nature of our enemy and their deaths to the troops that survived the attack.

Since Cargi did not reveal anything to his colleagues during his departure, instead opting to leave unnoticed, I believe it to be unlikely he will reveal anything to the troops in the other camps. It is highly likely that he will find a way back to the capital that avoids any confrontation, both military and civilian. I have sent warnings to the every commander in the military lands, but I fear that he will reach Dervanfall unchallenged. I send this message on the day of his desertion in the hopes that he will not reach the city before my words reach thee.

We both understand the severity of this containment breach. Cargi is in possession of knowledge and an artefact that can seriously undermine the Army’s authority and destabilise the Three Kingdoms. I have withheld this from the other commanders and the official report. Recovery of both the weapon and our agent will be thy own task. I pray that thou art more successful at dealing with this than I was.

Jerfad

James Excerpt, Novel, The Thieves Guild Excerpt, Novel, The Thieves Guild

I forgot how fun it can be to start something new. Having worked on the same novel for the last eight years (though not eight years solidly of course), I forgot how fun it can be to start a new story, create new charactes, explore a new world.

Fortunately, NaNoWriMo has given me that chance (or rather booted me up the and made me do so). For the past week, I’ve been writing my first Nano, Paralocks, both on the way to work and on the way home, getting 900-1000 words done each day. It’s not quite the 1667 required to hit 50,000 and i’ve been taking weekends off, but 50,000 isn’t my goal. My goal is to get into a writing routine, and so far, it seems to be working.

Here’s the first chapter of my Nano, all written during the daily commute: Read more…

James Excerpt, NaNoWriMo '08

In the past I have been very reserved about posting my work on the Internet, but in an age where people are publishing novels online and distributing them for free, it can’t hurt to share the first draft of the first chapter of my novel. They may be a few editing notes and spelling mistakes - this is pre-editing - and it’s a bit of a long one. Any criticism is welcomed.

Chapter One - Jolku: Nothin’ planned

II didn’t have anythin’ planned that night. Never do usually, not on the night of a meetin’. I don’t think many of us do these days. Deep down, we’re a bunch of show-offs, and the best way to prove your skills is to think on your feet, see what the Saints throw your way. In my line of work, you need to.

So, with nothin’ planned, you can only guess where chance is goin’ to strike. I’ve got pretty good at with this line of thinkin’; stupid people are the easiest to work on, and drinkin’ loosens a stupid tongue. So, just settle in at a busy tavern, wait for someone stupid to arrive and buy them a drink. If you’re really good at it, you can buy it with their on money.

My tavern for this month’s meetin’ was the King’s Folly, down in the Rissu Quarter. Not known for its rich clients as it’s far too close to the slums for most of the city’s Hacs, but it’s never let me down yet. The drinks are cheap, there’s plenty of dark corners and exits, and any visitors from the Guardians are on the take. Plus, there’s the added challenge that half the drinkers are there for the same reason I am.

From my splintered wooden booth, I could see most of the room, as well as the stairs to the upper bar and the tavern’s front door. If anyone came in or went out, I would notice. Through the smoke hangin’ in the air, comin’ from both the fire and the ten or so pipes dotted around the room, I could see the clock above the bar. Not even ten. Plenty of time.

The cracked plaster on the walls and the ale-soaked furniture matched the people around the room: nothin’ special to look at but welcomin’ all the same. Most people were dressed in tattered clothes, torn by the wear and tear of another workin’ day deeper in the city, but all of them, men and women, were relaxed, leanin’ back in their chairs and becomin’ louder with every finished pint. With such a rowdy crowd in the tavern tonight, you’d have thought any dark, shady types would be hard to spot, but if anythin’, it just made ‘em stand out more. On this night, it took me a little over ten minutes to clock the man in the black cloak.

Like me, he had his hood up, coverin’ most of his face, and his cloak pulled around his shoulders, with only his hands visible, clutched together tightly on the table top. Unlike me, he drew too much attention to himself. He’d chosen a table in the middle of the room. He kept fiddlin’ with his cloak, pullin’ the hood closer around his face. And, what got me most interested, he kept lookin’ around, checking the doors. He was waitin’ for someone.

People meetin’ in a place like this generally have somethin’ planned. I should know, I use the King’s Folly for meetin’s like that every couple of months. Meetin’s like that generally involve one of two things – theft or murder. This one was unlikely to be a murderer. His sweatin’ hands looked too soft, too puny to be any good at swingin’ a sword or pullin’ a bow. He looked too nervous. If murder was on the menu tonight, it would be his first time.

That left theft, which was much more likely. Again, it would probably be his first, and if it wasn’t, he couldn’t have been thievin’ long. Whatever the case, if you were goin’ to start breakin’ the law round here, theft was where you started. The crime rate’s so high in some districts that you can knock off any shop, lie low for a month or so and all’s forgotten. The Guardians just can’t catch thieves. They’re too stupid and there’re too many good place to hide. If you try your hand at murder, though, they tear the streets apart looking for you and if you’re really unlucky, they bring in the Regals.

No, this guy was a thief, and he was bound to be a poor one. He’d probably been picked by a better thief to be used as a scapegoat. To get taken away by the boys in blue while his partner ran off the loot. It’s a trick that works and for a moment, I wondered if it was one of my lot. That’d mean I would have to move on. While the city’s big enough for all of us, we like to defend our turf. A scapegoat job takes time and money to set up and if a fellow thief ruins it, even the Saints can’t hide you.

After a while, I knew it wasn’t one of us that set this guy up. Whoever it was, he was pretty stupid too. Another reason this guy was lookin’ around nervously was his race: he was a Viseth. You could tell by the pasty, pale look of his skin, the green tint of his fingernails, the quality silk of his cloak. Few people seemed to have noticed, except me and the barman, probably ‘cause everyone else was drunk. The barman kept glancin’ over and glarin’ at the Viseth’s back, but didn’t motion for any of his barmaids to lead him to the door. Either someone was payin’ the barman off, not wantin’ any trouble, or the Rissu Quarter had finally accepted the Peace.

The moment the second cloaked man walked in I knew he was here to meet the Viseth. He strolled in with too much confidence, didn’t remove his hood, but made straight for the middle table, not lookin’ at anyone but his partner. His movements were stiff, tryin’ too hard to look tough – always the wrong thing to do in a neighbourhood like this.

Rather than sittin’ down with him, the second man simply tapped on the Viseth’s shoulder and marched up the stairs to the upper bar. The Viseth followed, still lookin’ around nervously, pullin’ his hood around his face. The barman watched them leave and turned away, servin’ the next woman at the bar. I listened to their heavy feet on the stairs above my booth and waited.

If I followed them upstairs straightaway, someone would have clocked me, probably the barman. With those two drawin’ enough attention to themselves, I didn’t want to stand out as well. Yes, I was missin’ whatever they were talkin’ about but there was no way around that. There was no other way upstairs so if they came down and left, I could just slip out of the side door next to my booth and follow ‘em.

I finished my drink, stood and wandered upstairs. My feet were just as heavy as everyone else’s and the stairs creaked but I fought the urge to sneak the rest of the way up. I was just a regular guy havin’ a drink, right? Like most taverns, the King’s Folly’s upper bar was much nicer than the one downstairs. Fewer tables made the room feel bigger and cushioned chairs made it more comfortable. The air was fresher, with all windows open, and the lack of pipes and a fire gave the place a cooler, cleaner feelin’. There weren’t many people either, which made it easier to both find and hear my two friends, sittin’ at a table in the corner of the room, their backs facin’ the stairs.

I calmly strolled up to the bar and ordered a drink, which cost a lot more than it did downstairs. When it arrived, I sat down at a table near the two cloaked men, their backs to me, my back to them and listened.

“Are you sure about this?” the soft voice of the Viseth asked.

“For the final time, yes,” the second man hissed. From his accent I guessed that, like most people round here, he was a Rissu. “It’s the easiest money you’ll make in the next three seasons.”

“But we could get in trouble.”

“Yes,” the Rissu replied dryly, “Breakin’ the law could get you into trouble.”

“Don’t joke. My family won’t be able to afford to bail me out of a Guardians cell. This whole thing is for my family – if we get caught, it’s all over.”

“Then make sure we don’t get caught. You’re the lookout, by the Saints!”

“But - ”

“All you have to do is stand outside and keep an eye out for the Guardians. If you see them, whistle and we’ll get out of there.”

I smiled. It was a good trick. As soon as the lookout whistles, you slip out the bank, leavin’ him standin’ in the middle of the street, waitin’ for you.

“And what if you find your own way out?” Clearly the Viseth wasn’t as stupid as he looked.

“Don’t you trust me?”

“You’re a thief!”

“So are you.”

“Not yet I’m not, and even after tonight, I’ll only be a lookout.”

“Tell yourself what you want, but once we knock over Hobb’s, we’ll both be guilty. You don’t have to thieve to be a thief.”

“Even so…”

“Look, what do you want?”

“I want my cut.”

“You’ll get it.”

“Up front.”

“I don’t have that kind of money. If I could afford to pay you now, would we be plannin’ tonight’s little venture?”

The Viseth went quiet.

“Look, this is my job, so we’re doin’ it my way. You’ll get your money once we’re safely away from the shop. I’ll deal with the lock, you keep a lookout, and I’ll swipe whatever I can. Understand?”

“Fine.”

“Right, let’s finish our drinks and get goin’. I want to be done before midnight.”

So did I.

Read more…

James Excerpt, The Thieves Guild