This year I haven’t had much to share, because I’ve been working hard to have stuff for next year. That said, here are a couple of short stories that were published in audio format by the Simultaneous Podcast produced by the fine folk at Space Cowboys Books.

Category: Best Short Story

Last Witness. Genre: Science Fiction. Available here: https://spacecowboybooks.com/simultaneous-times-episode-52-is-live/

First Flight. Genre: Science Fiction/Fantasy. Available here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pg5F960t01s&ab_channel=SpaceCowboyBooks

Misspelled. Genre: Horror. Available here: https://youtu.be/SS_74hPryFo

Toy. Genre: Horror. Available here: https://youtu.be/_e63QbIiLcg

Thank you for your consideration.

Have you heard the term “Actor’s actor”? It refers to a thespian who is so good at their craft, that other actors can’t but admire them, because they teach them things that are not possible for the rest, without being a showoff or overbearing, because their work has an attention to detail, a finesse that is not seen frequently. Well, there should be a similar term from authors, an “author’s author”, someone whose skill with the written word only needs a few pages to shine.

The point of that intro was to say that Maria Haskins is an “author’s author”, and her latest book, a short story collection entitled “Six Dreams about a Train and other stories” is solid proof of that. Writing short stories takes a lot of skill because one as a writer has to do the same heavy lifting in terms of character development and worldbuilding in way fewer words than a novel, but without it being cumbersome for the enjoyment of the reading. Haskins does that with such ease that one can’t but marvel. The twenty-three stories on the book show a wide range of genres, philosophies, unabashed love for rock & roll, of liminal and dreamlike realities all woven into stories with a lot of heart. Some of them could easily be expanded into a novel, or even be transformed into a movie franchise, like “Tunguska, 1987” with its surprising twists and turns. Others, like “Dragon Song” or “Six Dreams about the train” could easily be made into animated shorts that should be included in the Netflix anthology series “Love, Death & Robots”. They are that good and need more recognition.

My personal favorite though, was “Seven Kinds of Baked Goods”, a fantastical mix of fantasy, bakery, following your own path, revenge, and humor. Some bits of it touched some personal fibers (not the revenge part, but the one of breaking the mold of your family to go following your dreams), others made me laugh. But to me is a masterclass in worldbuilding, the clever use of ‘Chekov’s gun’ trope, and a well-planned ending. Yes, I’m unabashedly a fan of Maria’s writing. This story is a reason why

My only complaint, as is a very small complaint in the larger scheme of things, is that there is a story that Maria wrote that I would have loved to see in the collection: “Stars Above, Shadows Beneath”, another personal favorite of her stories. Other than that, this book is a must for any lover of short stories.

It would be the perfect reading, the best present for this Christmas season. I suggest you get your copy now, you won’t regret it.

5 out of 5 Ninja Stars. Yes. 5. Because now there are 5 Ninja Turtles as well. And this book gets them all.

You can find the link to order the book at the Zon, here.

Next book in the dock? A Few Good Elves, by Diane Morrison.

Note: this fanfic is inspired by the Dark Dice Podcast (a live play D&D horror podcast), that I’ve been listening to in recent months as I work towards the release of my second novel next week. They have a fanfic contest and here is my entry. I haven’t write a fanfic in more than 10 years, so this was quite an interesting activity.

Withour further ado here is the story.

Carved Dreams of Love & Sorrow.

By Ricardo Victoria

Under regular circumstances, sleep would be the best respite for the weary, but not for Soren Arkwright. His weary bones claimed for rest after the latest hunt, but his mind wasn’t that kind to go there. To the dreams. Then again a hunter deprived of sleep is of no help to anyone during the job. It’s a risk. And Soren preferred to minimize risk if possible. In his line of work, the hunter that manages to live to old age is the one that gets into the practice of managing risk. And he was not planning to die soon, even if he felt like he had been living for thousand years.

 The barn that has been hosting him since his arrival to Ilmater’s Hope, while not exactly the best accommodation in the town, had something that the local inn didn’t have: privacy. For Soren’s dreams were not the kind to be shared by mumbling in his sleep. While he didn’t want to sleep, he would have to or he would collapse from exhaustion.

Soren took his equipment off, leaving it neatly accommodated in a corner near the improvised hay bed. Then there was the lamp. That accursed object that he has had for who knows how long. Really useful, utterly creepy, completely unsettling and cursed. And yet he couldn’t remember a day since he had become Soren, that he hadn’t have it by his side. The things it did to the souls of the dying or long dead was nothing but torture. But useful torture nonetheless for his line of work. He put it as far away as he could from his makeshift bed.

“No need to add fuel to the fire of the nightmares,” Soren muttered to himself, and the goats keeping him company. His best hope was for a dark void of dreamless sleep until the next morning. “Then again, I never get what I want.”

Soren looked at the makeshift hay bed. The owner of the barn had been kind enough to lend him a couple of threadbare blankets to use over the haystacks.

“I’ve seen worse,” he muttered. “I’ve had worse”.

It wasn’t the best bed in the world, but certainly beat sleeping in the cold floor, or worse, in the limits of the town, where the Dead Pines began. At this point in life, he would take this as an improvement. If only it meant that he could rest.

Soren lay upon the bed and staring at the ceiling of the barn, closed his eyes in an attempt to conjure a blank sleep.

This was one of those time he wished sleep had evaded him.

It always started the same way. Darkness, voices whispering the name of the “Carver of Dreams”, a temple lit by torches, a foul smell, his hand bloodied as he lifted a dagger from the open wound of a being he had sacrificed to It. To the god that had promised to return to him what he had lost. It was a weird experience to see himself from afar doing those acts, carving sentient beings with the help of his hooded followers. It was as if his body, his mind and his soul were separate entities now.

“Hahahahahaha!” Soren heard himself laughing. And his heart ached. The pain was so great that he dropped to his knees while grabbing his chest. As he struggled for air, gasping, the room twisted around him, rotating at incredible speed, as if he were at the eye of a small tornado.

Soren blinked a few times as his eyes accustomed themselves to the bright light of day. He was in a younger body, fitter, stronger, full of vitality.

“Soren!” a female voice called after him.

He knew Soren wasn’t his real name. Not in the dreams in any case. But he couldn’t remember his real, original name, if he ever had one. Thus in his dreams, he was Soren, as always.

Sitting under a tree, during a warm summer day after a hard day at helping repair the walls from the damage caused by the last monster attack, Soren was taking a needed break. Wearing only his leather pants and a white shirt, the young man was spreading avocado over a couple of toasted slices of bread.

“Soren! Soren! Where are you? Oh! There you are!”

Sored looked up to see who was calling for him and saw her. The woman that occupied his dreams and every free thought he had while awake. She smelled of raspberries. Her dark brown hair flowed freely as she ran towards him, carrying a small bunny in her delicate hands. Her most striking features were her eyes., Bright, full of hope and determination. Her voice was clear, melodic, sweet and but with a hint of hidden force. Soren couldn’t remember her name, as hard as he tried. But he knew his heart belonged to her since the first day he saw her at the castle.

Soren looked up to her.

“That is a nice bunny you have there.”

“Phillipus? Yes, he is. The only good thing from that meeting with another suitor. I hate those things. They are so vain, so boorish. They think that their riches make them better than anyone.

“Would you like to share an avocado toast m’lady?” Soren offered one of the toasts to her. “Maybe it will help erasing the bad taste said meeting left in your mouth.”

“That sounds delicious my gallant knight,” She sat next to him, set free Phillipus and took the toast.

They ate in silence for a few minutes. As Soren prepared a third toast, he looked at her and smiled.

“I don’t think your father would approve of you consorting with the likes of me, m’lady.”

“If I listened to my father,” she replied with a laugh. “I would be prancing around in silly dresses, blushing at the poor attempts of seduction from the entitled brats of the ruling families of this place. Luckily for us, I prefer to listen to my heart.”

“And what does your heart say, m’lady?” Soren looked at her eyes, making her blush.

“That I want to have a life outside this walls. To live a free life, next to a gallant knight,” she replied, staring wistfully to the few clouds in the otherwise fine day.

“Lofty dreams m’lady. But I don’t see how you plan to achieve that.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I have a good idea where to start, with the gallant knight,” She smiled this time. Her smile turning into a wide grin showcasing her pearl-like teeth. They made her eyes shine with greater intensity, like stars.

“Then allow me to offer you a helping hand,” Soren took her hand as he leaned to kiss her softly in the lips.

As he kissed her, the tornado engulfed them. Soren was transported once more to another time, another place.

+++

He was tending to his horse as the sun set in the horizon. It had been a long week of combat and he barely made it alive. If he didn’t know better, he could swear that his liege was trying to get rid of him by sending him into increasingly dangerous missions. But that would mean that he found out about Soren and his daughter sleeping together several times.

Right in cue, as it is bound to happen in the dreamscape, she appeared, running towards him. Her face betrayed her increasing fear. She grabbed Soren’s hand and led him to his horse.

“He found about us. I’m not sure how. You have to escape. My father won’t let us stay together.”

Soren looked at her. He knew this was a possibility and had been running possible scenarios in his head. Maybe if he talked with the lord. Maybe he had earned the right to be a suitor of her by virtue of his skills at the battlefield. Surely he would prefer to have a son-in-law capable of defending his domains from attackers, instead of those spoiled brats. But deep down he knew that wouldn’t ever happen. No. she was right. Running away was the only option. But not without her.

“I can’t leave you. I will face him if I must. I will earn his approval one way or another,” Soren said, looking at her and kissing her hands, to reassure her that everything would be fine.

“The only thing you will earn is your death!” her father yelled across the stables, followed by his two most trusted bodyguards, the same men that had trained Soren for years and had made him the most lethal knight in the land.

“I don’t want to do this sir. You are my liege. I bound to serve you,” Soren said, trying to defuse the situation. To gain some time.

“And yet you disgraced said bond by besmirching the honor of my daughter!”

“He has more honor than any of your sycophants, father!” She replied, interposing her body between Soren and her father. But Soren gently set her aside with one hand, as he drew his sword with the other.

“Silence child! After I’m done with him, I will deal with you!”

“You won’t do anything of the sort,” Soren replied through gritted teeth. He knew how the lord dealt with his wife when she disobeyed. Soren wouldn’t allow him to put a hand on her. “To protect her, I will do what I must.”

“Attack! You filthy brigand!” the lord launched an attack that Soren parried with effort. The old man might had been a great fighter in decades past, but not anymore. Soren was more concerned about the two bodyguards. They would prove a tougher challenge.

“Stand aside,” the lord said to his bodyguards with seething voice. “Honor demands that he is mine.”

A great fighter, Soren thought, but not a smart one. The duel was quick, barely a couple of parries and attacks before Soren’s sword skewered the man through the heart, result of the age gap. A quick and painless death was better than the man had deserved, and Soren was regretful of doing it in front of her, but the dice were cast.

The bodyguards launched into an attack to avenge their lord, while Soren prepared for the battle of his life. As he raised his sword to block an attack, the tornado swallowed all of them, and everything went dark.

++++

Soren’s body was aching, every bone in his body hurt, every cut throbbed. Bu the worst pain was that of his soul. If felt as if someone was carving his dreams for some nefarious purpose that eluded him. Soren opened his eyes once more. His body was older, as currently, bleeding from the left arm, as her, his wife was tending to his wounds. She smiled at him and Soren returned the smile. He looked around, they were sitting outside in the porch of their humble home, in the outskirts of the forest. They were wearing peasant clothes. Her hands were delicate no more. They had grown stronger and with calluses, the mark of hard labor. Her eyes were the same though, shining like stars.

“I’m sorry for having you dragged you into this life,” Soren said, breaking the silence.

“I have no need for material things. I don’t care if we have to sleep with the pigs during winter, and break our backs during harvest. As long as I have you at my side, I’m happy my dear Soren,” She replied with her sweet, melodic voice, barely changed by the years of hardship. “But I do wish you had left those soldiers alone. You are all bruised and you attracted more attention than needed.”

“I had to do what I was raised to do, protect others.”

“Always my gallant knight,” she said, as she kissed him in the forehead.

Noise of horses galloping in their direction broke the kiss. Both looked towards the road and saw a band of knights riding towards them. Soren stood up, looking for his sword, the only thing he hadn’t sold after escaping. The only thing left from his time as a knight. She took the pitchfork that was near the door and stood in front of him.

The riders stopped, and the leader of men, a man taller than Soren, decked in armor plater, with long, flowing hair kept away from his face by a silver circlet on his head, dismounted his warhorse and approached the couple, his hands raised in sign of peace.

“Soren Arkwright?” the man asked, with a deep voice and a thick accent.

“Who wants to know?” she asked.

“I’m not here to hurt you m’lady,” the man made a small curtesy towards her. “Or Soren. I’m here because I have an offer for you. From the king.”

“From the king you say?” She asked again.

“Yes. May I come in? I will leave my weapons outside, with my companions,” the man looked at the other riders, still on their saddles.

Soren and his wife looked at each other. Years of loving marriage under the stars had allowed them to develop the silent language that only soulmates can.

“Alright,” Soren said, looking at the man to the face, dropping his voice an octave. “But if you attempt anything or hurt her, you will see firsthand why I’m a wanted man.”

“That’s part of the reason why I’m here. I’m Commander Asphodel,” the man said, extending his hand to shake Soren’s. “Of the High Guard. The Darklands have become a very dangerous land.”

“Well,” Soren replied as he shook his hand and led him to the inside of the house “You can’t expect different from a land with such name.”

Soren, his wife and Asphodel took a seat at the wooden table that made the main piece of furniture in the room.

“Our King and the King of the Elves have been creating a pact with other forces that I’m not in liberty to disclose yet. With the aim to stop whatever is creating such perils.”

“And what does that have to do with me? With us?” Soren asked, confused.

“I’m under orders to put together a band of the best fighters, warriors, hunters on the region, to serve as strike force to destroy anyone or anything helping this source of evil in planned, secret and precise attacks while the Kings march to war. A covert team if you will. Of course I would like to have the fabled former knight Soren Arkwright in my team. Your skills at arms and as a tracker are the stuff of legends, even after this time.”

“It seems that what I’m not good is to keep hidden,” Sored replied, ruefully.

“No offense, but we knew where you and m´lady were staying since day one. Her father was after all, someone close to the crown. But the King is a romantic at heart so he ordered us to leave you alone as long as you keep your head down. Which you did until that bar fight. Was all that necessary?”

“Those guards were hurting the waitress. It was necessary,” Soren said with a tone of voice that left no room for further argument.

“Anyways,” Asphodel said, retaking the original topic of conversation, “The King wants you, like me, to join us in this effort.”

“And if I say no?” Soren asked, looking at his wife. “It’s a dangerous request. And I won’t leave my wife alone.”

“You will then be taken prisoner. Which really I don’t want. It will be a waste of resources.” Asphodel rubbed the back of his neck. “But if you say yes, and being aware of both the dangers and the need to keep safe your wife, the King has allowed me to offer you the following: just payment for every job you come with us, protection for your wife while you are away and within certain time, a royal pardon, freeing you from persecution from any past or recent crime. And after that probation time is done and the pardon granted, you are free to go. You could even take a few extra jobs of your choosing to get better payment. I think is a good offer.”

“What do you think my dear?” Soren asked to his wife.

“I don’t like the idea of being separated from you, or that you are risking your life.” She replied

“But it could free us.”

“Sigh,” She said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Ok, take the offer, but only if you promise that once you get the pardon, you will stop.”

“I promise.”

“Good,” Asphodel said, standing up. “We leave the day after tomorrow. I suggest you put your business in order.”

“The only business to order is spending the day with the love of my life.”

As Soren kissed  his wife, the tornado grew again, transporting him to another time. Taking him away from his beloved wife.

+++

“One last job my dear,” Soren said as he packed up his things.

“You always say that,” His wife replied, ruefully. “The King pardoned years ago and yet you keep taking jobs. You always promise that one last job and you break that promise. You have done it so many times by now that I don’t expect anything from you. It’s like you don’t want to be with me anymore.”

“Please, don’t say that.” “This is my last job, I swear. The payment I will get from helping to bring down that warlock and his cult will set us for the rest of our lives. I can finally give you what you deserve.”

“How many times I have to tell you that I don’t care for those things?”

“You say that. But I see you staring at the ladies in the town, and the dressed they buy, at their houses. I just want to give you the life you deserve”

“What about what I want?” She raised her voice.

“I swear. One last job and then I’m done for good. I will become a gardener here in town if you want.”

“If you exit that door, I can’t promise you I will be here when you return.”

“Yes you will. Because you love me as much as I do. And I always return to you and you know it.”

“Not anymore.”

“I will see you soon my love.”

As soon as Soren crossed the door, darkness swallowed him.

++++

“If you let me go, I will give you anything your heart desire. Riches beyond your imagination. Your own fiefdom.” The warlock said, begging for his life as he crawled away from Soren. They were alone, in the deepest part of the warlock’s hideout, a cave barely lit by torches. The fight had been long, as the warlock led a band of cultists dedicated to a god with no known name. Both sides had lost men, until Soren had managed to break the cult´s defenses and carved his way through them, chasing the warlock. A depraved man that had murdered countless as sacrifice for his eldritch deity.

“I don’t need anything of that. What I’m being paid to kill you is enough for me. And I already possess the most valuable thing I could want in this plane. And I’m going back to her as soon as I finish with you. Any last words?” Soren said, sarcasm dripping from every word he uttered.

“Ah, so you are one of those. A hopeless lover that regrets leaving who he loves behind every time someone hires you,” the warlock said, mocking Soren.

“Interesting last words you are saying,” Soren replied, pointing the tip of his sword to the chest of the man.

“Even love can be destroyed, fade away. People die. But if you let me go, I will give you that,” the warlock pointed to a lamp resting of a wooden table. “That lamp has the ability to bring back the souls of the deceased to their body.”

“They would remain dead anyways.”

“Not if you use the lit the lamp next to them right after their death. They will linger between life and death long enough for you to find someone to heal them.”

“You are lying.”

“I swear it is true. My god gave it to me. It never lies.”

“Well,” Soren smiled.  “There is only one way to verify that, don’t you think?”

He pushed his sword through the heart of the warlock, and the air echoed with a preternatural scream.

++++

Soren found himself walking under a fading snowfall, down the familiar road to his house. He smiled. His last job, and he meant it this time, had secured him a small fortune. Enough to take his wife away from exile at the edge of a forest and to a nicer house, with all the amenities she desired. As he walked, his smile faded away, for a column of smoke rose on the horizon, from the exact location where his house was. He dropped everything but his sword and the lamp and ran, as faster as he had ever run. Until his lungs hurt and his drumming heart was knocking the walls of his chest with force.

Knock.

Soren arrived at what was left of his home. Everything was burned to ashes,

“No. No. No! Not again! Not this.”

He grabbed the lamp and placed it near her lifeless body. If what the depraved warlock had told him was true, it could bring her back to the land of the living, just long enough to find her a healer. To make a miracle work. He was Soren Arkwright after all, the hero that had made the impossible, possible. He had done that to serve others. Why he wouldn’t do that to serve himself?

Knock

Seconds, more akin to eons for him passed. As if hit by a bolt, her body trembled and she sit, screaming at the horror of her bloody wounds, at the churning pain caused by her broken body.

“What you have done my love? Why you are making me suffer like this?”

“I… I… I need you.” Soren replied as he hugged her, sobbing. “I don’t want to lose you. I can make this better. I can find someone to heal you. To bring you back.”

“It can’t be my love. I’m dead. I have to go.”

“No! Please don’t go. Don’t leave me.

“There is nothing you can do my sweet Soren. You can’t change the past. Your abandonment.”

Knock.

“I know I could have done things better. I could have been a better husband. To pay you more attention… I know I can be better. I promise!”

“It is too late now. See, I’m dead now. A spirit about to cross to the beyond. You lost me, you lost us. You squandered our love. You are still alive. You have to return to the living, move on from here. It’s not healthy to remain trapped in this space..”

“No! Please let me stay a little bit longer. I promise I will never leave your side again. I will be a better husband!”

“It can’t be my love. I don’t belong to this plane of existence anymore.”

“Please I beg you! I will do anything!”

Knock.

“Anything you say?” Her smile turned into a wide, wicked grin showcasing rows of sharp teeth, her eyes shapeshifted into two red orbs, with a third one appearing in her forehead. It wasn’t his wife anymore, but a creature made of… the very same matter that nightmares are made of. A mockery of a human being he once loved with all his heart.

“Yes!” Sore replied without doubt, tears running down his face

Knock

“I can give you want. More time with her. If you seek me once more,” the creature whispered with a voice that didn’t sound human.

Knock

“I don’t care; I just want to see you again. I will seek anyone that can help me to achieve that.”

Knock

“Do you seek him?” the creature whispered before disappearing as if it were a mirage.

Knock

The knocks on the door became louder as Soren stirred from his sleep. Pulled from the deep well of memory, regret and sorrow, his mind broke free as he opened his eyes. Groggy, he stood up and lit on the lamp near the barn’s door. His breathing was heavy, his chest hurt and there was this void in the mouth of his stomach. The dream eroded from his mind as he took a few steps towards the door. It was nothing but a distant, confusing memory now.

Soren opened the door just enough to see who was. In the darkness of the night he couldn’t see anyone in his line of sight. He blinked a few times to wake up properly.

“Down here,” a female voice called, startling him. There was something… familiar in that voice. Something that reminded him of the past, of the lady in his dreams, a fading memory.

But it can’t be, he thought, as his heart gave a jump.

He looked down and stared at his interlocutor. In front of him there was a woman, a dwarven paladin. Her soft features betrayed the strength of her heart and the worries currently running through her head. But her most striking features were her eyes. Her eyes had a spark Soren hadn’t seen in… who know how long. Those eyes full of hope and determination that rekindled Soren’s soul. A reminder of another soul, another time that he yearned for but now it was long gone, to never return.

“Are you Soren Arkwright, the Monster Hunter?” the dwarven paladin asked. Her voice was clear, melodic yet firm and forceful. His heart ached, as the woman continued. “I’m Sister Tsavorite Cavernsfall, I here because I have an urgent matter to discuss with you.”

Soren smiled. Monster Hunter was a better moniker than the other whispered in his nightmares. He smiled at Sister Cavernfall. Maybe she would like to share an avocado toast while they talked.

The End?

So yeah, in October of this year of the Lord, 2020, year of many, many, many events, I’m reaching my 40th birthday. That’s a big number isn’t? If these were the Middle Ages I would be considered an elder of the village. In prehistoric times, I would be downright ancient. So I’m taking this with some perspective.

If I’m honest, I never expect to reach this age. When I was 16, I had the odd feeling I wouldn’t go past my 30s’ at best. Why? I’m not sure. I guess a general sense of dread of the future plus depression at the time. That’s why I perhaps was in a hurry to achieve things, to leave a legacy.

Reaching 40 has put things in perspective. I’m in the middle of the way. Reaching this age in 2020 has a peculiar meaning to boot. This year, with all the things that are going on have made me meditate in the future -anxiety included- and in doing things I never imagined to do, like a will (yes, because you never know and you don’t want to leave problems behind).

But I consider mysefl lucky, perhaps priviliged, because I’ve been able to achieve some of the dreams-transformed-into-goals I had at 16. I was able to study a postgrad, to live in a different country for an extended period of time, to visit several countries, to get married, to write a book (more on it later). There were some goals I never considered, like owning a house (well, I’m still paying for it, but you know the meaning), doing road trips with not even where to sleep being planned, reaching the finales of a competition (Heroclix in this case), working on a comic book shop, and so on. Others were planned for after I reached 40 and yet I managed to do them last year (like taking my wife to her dream holiday to Tokyo, after a gruelling year of work and savings, starting something, which was Inklings Press). I’m not bragging. I consider myself lucky because not many can do or live what I have been able to. I know all of the above have been a privilige. That’s why this month, full of reflection is teaching me to not take it for granted. Because I know there are goals that won’t come to fruition and I have to learn to let those go and as a friend told me a few weeks ago, set up new goals to keep me motivated.

On the book thing (remember I said there was more on this), I recall I has this sense of dread that if I didn’t write a novel and publish it before my 30s’, I would never do it. I had this idea that to leave a legacy I had to be this famous writer. When the book didn’t materialize out of thin air, I moved the goalpost to my 35 birthday. Well, I started to write a book, but didn’t finish it till a couple of years later and certaintly took a couple more to get it published (because the reality is that the publishing industry is an endurance race). And fame hasn’t arrived. But I think that’s fine for a few reasons: I wouldn’t have been able to write the books, the stories I’m writing now, if I hadn’t had more life experiences, more maturity. I needed this growth in order to write a book that I hope, connects with the reader in an emotional level, beyond a simple thrill. And in the case of fame, well, fame is overrated. I mean, having extra money to pay my mortgage (or move to a better zone), to take my wife to more trips so she can increase her photograph catalogue, or adopt more dogs would be awesome (Netflix, call me). But paraphrasing and editing Master Yoda’s quote, “Fame. Fortune. A good person craves not these things.” I think it is more important to be a good person who learns to enjoy the little, the medium, the large, the simple and the complicated things life gives us. To enjoy the little triumphs we achieve (including getting up from bed in a bad day) and learn from the fails we endure. To help and lift others in whatever capacity we can. We are what we leave behind.

I still think that the Ancient Greek had it right. True immortality is the legacy, the memories, you leave behind. I just hope for the next 40-50 years allow me to leave a good legacy behind and people remind me kindly.

And I still want that TV Tropes page dedicated to my writings.

After long, long days of radio silence, because you know, I was busy writing a new book (which by the way it already has a tentative release date, but more on that later), I’m back. And what better thing to show in my triumphat return to my own blog, here is the map for the second novel of the Tempest Blades series: Cursed Titans,  drawn with the help of my friend Marco García.

Auris is the western continent of the planet Theia. Not as populous a Ionis, it does however contain its own set of legendary locations, exciting places and rich history and cultures. The eastern coast of  Auris is not that far from the western coast of Ionis (as you can see in the tiny map on the right lower corner), and given the Lyrian Ocean is ‘relatively’ calm, can be transversed by ship or warptrains that gro through the multitude of smaller islands.

Auris’ western side can be divided in three main regions, which also belong to the three main regional powers: the Kuni Empire, the Straits, and the Wastelands. As per the previous map, anything above the World’s Scar belongs to the Freefolk and the other continent, across the Straits and Azure Turtle Sea/Slender Sea, is Ouslis and belongs in its enterity to the Samoharo Hegemony, which means that can be described as ‘Here be dragons’.

The map, for the sake and brevity, only depicts places that are mentioned in the actual story or are really important (such as the three main cities). There are more places there, but it would have been madness to fit all in that space. So this is a primer on the places marked there.

The Kuni Empire: one of the oldest human nations still standing, purveyor of technology, animated cartoons, and its own set of religious and combat beliefs. The home of the demonhunters capable to take down monster through the use of their rigorous training that put them on par of titanfighters -without having to use armors- and even of a Gifted. It’s capital is Kyôkato, where most of events on the new novel takes place. The Empire possess a network of Temples, such as the Quiet Water Temple, secretly interconnected between them, where powerful yôkais -spirits- reside or are trapped. Those temples are consecrated to a particular element or natural phenomenon. It’s weather is similar to that of Japan. The Kuni speak Kunigo, but most of them are also fluent in Core and Nawua.

Kasumi, a new character in the Cursed Titans novel is from there.

God’s Eye: a big volcanic island, right across Kyôkato, in the Sea Horse Bay. The volcano has been active since at least the Dawn Age, making it the oldest active volcano in the Core region. The Kuni -and interestingly enough, the Samoharo as well- consider it sacred ground for it was there that the Storm God, a mortal that ascended to godhood, and using the Tempest Blade Yaha, took down the last of the Titans.* It is said that those that visit the inland, beyond the tiny villages in the coast, can experience visions, no doubt it part due the fumes expelled by vents located all over the place.

The Angel River serves a frontier with The Straits.

The Straits: a conglomerate of city states unified by shared culture and history (including their difficult time under the Asurian Empire). It’s nominal capital is Xelahú. Composed mostly of rain and cloud forest to the south (weather similar to Southern Mexico/Costa Rica), the Straits are renowned by their food, their music, their mines, their complex ecosystems, which include the Predacors -underground creatures that come to the surface every time there is an earthquake, which is frequently- and their peculiar veneration of the dead. It also has some problems with corruption. The Straits as polity usually delegate the international diplomacy part to their more powerful neighborghs, mainly the Samoharo -whose commercial and cultural ties have shaped the culture of the Straits- or in occassion to the Kuni, who have been their allies since the time of the Titans. As well, the Straits have reclaimed any territory below the Lion’s Pass, from what was left of the Assurian Empire, as ‘war reparations’.  Their main language is Nawua, but most of it inhabitants learn to speak Adapted Samoharo tongue, Kunigo, or Core. Some become fluent in all three.

Alex is from the Straits. Which explains a lot.

Albarran Point: the most soutwest point of the Straits, it used to be a holiday spot and place for sports tournaments due it’s accesible locations… that is until the first Incursion from the Pits took place a decade and half ago, where residents and vacationist, except a handful of students and a samoharo, were killed. The details of the event have been kept as a secret and the place has remained deserted since then, sans a port guarded by the few soldiers the Straits have. Albarran Point holds an strategic place -alog the Coyoli Archipielago– as they serve as entry point to the Azure Turtle Sea. Across it, lies Sotz’na, the only Samoharo port that allows humans and freefolk inside it’s walls.

The Wastelands: formerly the Asurian Empire, a vast desert nominally ruled by the corrupt hive of scum and villany that is Meteora. In the distant past, the Wastelands didn’t even have that name, for it was a vast amalgamation of climates and fertile soil that made it the Breadbasket of the Continent. But their experimentations with bio weapons & energy weapons, their constant warring and attempts to conquer the Kuni and the Straits, and their intercontinental, genocidal war against the Freefolk, rendered the whole region an unforgiving desert, as the Bestial sucked every ounce of life out of it. After that, the region collapsed into chaos, alternatively being ruled by a zealot theocracy or a tyrannic oligarchy, with only generations after generations of Sand Pirates (supported in secret by the Kuni and the Straits) offering some resistance to help the oppressed and to make water accesible for all. The Straits keeps most of its soldiers on the southern frontier of the Wastelands, across the Lion’s Pass, to keep raiders away.

Basically the place is cursed.

Carpadocci: the Buried City of the Damned and the Secrets. Most of the city is underground as in the past served both as a commercial hub and biological weapon developments facility. No one has lived there for centuries, mostly because of the experiments that escaped and killed most of its inhabitants. The city -which now possesses some sort of evil sentience- killed the rest, anyone who was foolish enough to try to unbury it’s secrets, or to escape from it. In a way, Carpadocci is the ultimate weapon.

Joshua, the protagonist of my short story ‘Buried Sins’ and a new character in the Cursed Titans novel, is from there. It also explains a lot about him.

So this is it. This is the other half (or sort of) of Theia. I hope you like it. And I hope to update dthe blog more frequently, now that the book is in editing stages.

*Titans: powerful beinhg, formerly mortals, that were granted amazing powers to keep the rest safe from incursions and the avatars from the God of the Pits. They became corrupted and enslaved most of humanity, almost killed most of the samoharo and were about to kill the freefolk if it weren’t for the Storm God -formerly a demonhunter- and the first titanfighters, who hunted the Titans down, one by one, to rip their core seeds from their chest and keep them secured at secret locations.

For obvious reasons, I have been able to catch up somewhat with my TBR pile, and with that, I have a few book recommendations for you. Bear in mind I’m not good with scales, so I will share just my opinion on the book and links as to where to get it.

Raven Steals the Light

By Bill Reid (Author, Illustrator), Robert Bringhurst (Author), Claude Levi-Strauss (Foreword)

I’ve always thought that a fantasy writer should read as much as possible of history and mythology books from different cultures, if any, to help their world-building and learn from other cultures. I fell in love with this book (and the Haida culture) when I visited Vancouver a few years ago, but for many reasons, I couldn’t get it until last year that a friend that lives in Canada got it for me as part of our group of friends’ Secret Santa, but I digress…

Bill Reid’s life history on its own is pretty interesting and inspiring and this book is a reflection of his life work, as he rescued the Haida oral myths and put some of them in a book he illustrated as well. Most of the myths talk about the Raven, the trickster deity of the Haida, and its escapades both before and after the creation of the world and humankind, a time when dreaming and reality were one and the same. Beautifully written, it’s evocative of a world beyond our imagination, of possibilities. The Raven is a charming rogue that sometimes gets its comeuppance and sometimes helps to create the world as we know it while looking to satiate its appetites. Most tales in the (admittedly very short) book pertain to the Raven, but there are a couple about shape-shifting bears.

This book is a must, mostly for the heart of it and for the opportunity to know more about the First Nations’ beliefs.

Link to Amazon

Tales of Aerothos: Knights of the Wolf 

By Robert Nugent (Author), Christopher Wagner (Editor)

Knights of the Wolf is one of the finest indie books for grounded fantasy. It was my introductory book to the world of Aerothos and in that regard, it’s the perfect place to start. I want to keep reading more stories in this world.

Rob Nugent is an accomplished writer, and this book proves three things he does really well: characterization, plot twists, and battle description. It’s really easy to picture this book as a movie or a mini-series. It’s an entertaining read for those that are looking for well-done fantasy and/or filling a GoT shaped hole in their hearts, like me.

Link to Amazon

Wrath of the Fury Blade

by Geoff Habiger (Author) and Coy Kissee (Author)

This is the mystery thriller the fantasy genre needed to expand its horizons. This is the book Sam Vimes would read. It’s the mystery story I was looking for.

Mixing genres is becoming a staple of today’s SFF. Doing it right is not so common yet. This is where Wrath of the Fury Blade by Geoff Habiger and Coy Kissee excels. It takes the popular genre of a detective story, with all its basics: an odd couple of detectives, a mystery with twists and turns, and social critic to the current world. And places it in a fantasy world where every detail is accounted for, to make believable how in a setting with magic and divination, it is still possible to attempt the perfect murder. Actually, how it would be easier to do it. Reva and Ansee, our pair of intrepid detectives are well characterized and written. I identified more with Reva, because let’s be honest, you can be good at what you do and still hate to have to do it, which to me feels like actual life. And seeing their friendship growing is a welcomed reward. But what I think is the most valuable aspect of the book is how it takes standard fantasy tropes and turns them on their head to make a social commentary. Addiction, segregation, political backstabbing… all of them prove that the usually perfect elves of standard fantasy, are more similar to humans than they would like to acknowledge. Their foibles prove more cumbersome to solve the mystery than the clever murderer’s plot.

While the descriptions can be at times a tad longer than expected, that’s logical as is the first book of a series and is setting the table for the adventures to come. With that in mind, I can only recommend the book to everyone who is looking for a new, different kind of fantasy reading, and eagerly wait till the sequel is out.

Link to Amazon

A Twist in time 

By Brent A. Harris (Author)

Full disclaimer: I cheated a bit because I had the opportunity to read the ARC of the book before it’s upcoming release.

A great work by an upcoming star in the realm of alternate history narratives. In his second novel, Brent A. Harris has brought Dickens to the 21st century. A Twist in Time is fast-paced, action-packed, and still a heartfelt tale of a young man returning to his roots to provide others like his former self a new future amidst the intrigue and corruption that populates this steampunk version of the Dickensian London.

The book has a cinematic sense to it, in the vein of Guy Ritchie’s hectic camera work and forays into adapting classic tales to modern sensibilities. Actually, this book could easily be adapted by Ritchie. However is the characterization of the main three characters: Oliver Twist, Nell Trent, and their antagonist, the Artful Dodger (here in a female version of the character). The three of them feel like real persons with a complicated backstory between them, that resembles at times a tragic romantic triangle. But this ain’t a love story. Rather is the tale of a young man that decides to become the hero he didn’t have to look up when he was a child, using wondrous contraptions to move around a city peril. Main among said objects is a mysterious pocket watch that allows Oliver to bend and twist the flow of time to his will, giving him the chance to correct things that went wrong and… I won’t say more because it would a spoiler.

Let’s just say that this book showcases Harris’ skills as an author: layered plots, well-defined themes, and great characterization. If you are into steampunk, YA, or new takes on old classics, this book is for you. It’s the adventure of a lifetime.

Link to Amazon