After the End Preorder is live- And here… we… go!

This part never gets old.. of course, I’m saying that NOW when it’s all done with a bow on top. But the new book is done, the preorder for it is live for Kindle, with the paperback not far behind, and it was a whole lot of fun writing this one. For a while I’ve been wanting to get into writing epic fantasy as opposed to contemporary- so this was something new, in a whole new world.

So you know the part that comes next.. if this sounds like a read you would enjoy, or a friend would enjoy, please buy my book. It’s $4.99, and I tell you what.. if you read it and post a review, I’ll split it with you. Just email me at ari dot wellman at gmail dot com with a copy of your review, and I’ll send you an Amazon gift card for two fifty.

How’s that for putting my money where my mouth is? So there’s the link, and under that you’ll find a sample chapter to check out and see if this is your thing.

Happy reading over holidays.. whether you’re enjoying my book or someone else’s!

Sample chapter from After the End- all rights reserved blah blah blah.

Justin 

The clinging mist that had hung over them like an ill omen had not cleared by the time Justin and Harl reached the top of the last hill before the Citadel. As much as it had made for a miserable ride, Justin found that he didn’t mind it. For one, he was riding home, and a warm bed and hot meal that he didn’t have to work for awaited. He didn’t mention it to Harl since the grizzled old squire didn’t share the same happy circumstance.

The second reason Justin also kept to himself, mostly because it was entirely too fanciful for a man within a season or two of acquiring his spurs to indulge in. But, very privately, Justin admitted to himself that when you stood just here and looked down into the vale with the light shining on the mist that way, you could almost imagine what it must have been like Before.

No one in Dama Tiah’s company talked about Before much, and if they were new, they got a look the first time, and a cuff the second time that made their teeth rattle. And if Dama Tiah heard even a whisper of wondering what that life must have been like for their ancestors…

Justin remembered the last time it had happened, back in the spring. He had been standing behind the Dama, and noticed the stop between one step and the next. The rest of the company on hand had noticed it too, and froze, as if they didn’t even dare to breathe. They all watched as the figure in full blackened plate, engraved in signs and sigils of silver began to turn. The noble face encased within the helmet was just as smooth, just as immobile. Only the flinty dark gaze showed any signs of life as it settled upon the offender. He was a brand new recruit, blond, thin and gangling, a boy that had grown too much on too little. Undoubtedly he had been pledged only because the planting was done and there wasn’t enough food to go around back home.

Like thousands before and thousands after to encounter that basilisk stare, the recruit that had spoken made the mistake of trying to explain. “With all respect, Dama, if’n we could find enough faesparks to make the rails go, it’d make these patrols dead easy.” The hapless recruit gulped, his sunburned face managing to turn even redder. “Why, I bet we wouldn’t even have to draft folk at all, volunteers could manage.” This was spat hastily; from nerves or maybe resentment.

There was a sudden flurry of turned heads as the whole company within earshot looked to see how the altercation would play out. Officers made notes for later use in details like latrine digging and foraging. Those that had been with the company awhile watched with grim foreknowledge, and the other recruits gulped along with their brother.

Justin had sighed inwardly and waited, as though watching a brief rainsquall come and go. The time when he would have spoken up had passed, and because he took the words of their daily oath to heart, he had no sympathy for the fool.

The Dama let three more breaths pass before speaking. Three breaths for the tension to mount into an inexorable tide, ensuring the words would not have to be spoken again for at least the next two circuits. “Easy living did ‘em no favors, boy. If they had been as quick and strong as we have become, they wouldn’t have left us all to waste time whining about what we ain’t got and don’t need.” Terrifyingly, the Dama hunkered down next to the boy, putting that cold gaze closer and closer, so that the next words were whispered as a lover’s. “Believe that, and I don’t mean you nod your head at me like a bird, I mean believe it down in your heart,” and the gauntleted fist smashed into the boy’s hardened leather tunic. “Believe it in your gut,” and the fist was in the boy’s stomach. “Easy isn’t the point… and it didn’t do you any favors, either. Their way of life cursed you to live in a world that’s gone on living when it should have died, and spending time thinking about Before is only going to see to it you give that curse to your own children, should any slack jawed farm bitch be stupid enough to lay down in the dirt with a useless scut like you.”

Dama Tiah stood slowly, watching the recruit gasp in the dirt before casting the same cold glare over the rest of the group that had been sitting by the fire. It was enough to break the spell. As undoubtedly had been intended, everyone who had been at ease went to make themselves useful. Elsewhere, anywhere there was a chance that gaze would not follow. Once, after another such performance, the hapless victim had remarked in Justin’s hearing that seeing the Dama like that was like having a corpse stare into your soul, and Justin had nodded to himself that it was a pretty good way to put it. 

So if it amused him to stare through the soaring towers of the Citadel through the mist and pretend it was all whole again, lit up by magic, it was a pleasure Justin kept to himself. The sea was in, wrapping its arms around the city greedily and feeding into the mist. That meant they’d have to go over the causeway, but Justin didn’t mind like some of the company would. The newer recruits thought the immense stones were magic, even if they came upon the Citadel while the sea was out. His father had shown him the old blueprints, though, and Justin knew that while magic may have been used to move the stones, it was plain good engineering that built the causeway and kept it in repair.

That thought made Justin frown, remembering his last visit when his father had told him, rather pointedly, that the numbers of engineers were dwindling to the point that they had given up on the Moon Quarter of the city entirely. Undoubtedly, there would be more, less subtle reminders on this visit that Justin wasn’t too late to register for the College’s winter term.

Even though it had been three years since Justin joined the company, his father refused to see that this was where he belonged. The tournaments and honors and the small reputation he had worked so hard for were all noise and distraction as far as Joshathan, son of Josiah was concerned.

Justin sighed, then yawned and stretched in the saddle. They had broken from the weary jog trot of the infantry just after midday, and Dama Tiah had sent him and Harl ahead to give warning to the quartermaster.

“Baths and beer will be needed.” The dama’s mouth sealed in a hard line upon observing the ragged ranks. “Two months and more on the road and they still can’t manage to keep up in a quickstep. Erdu preserve us when they forget everything they knew after tasting the delights of a city.” The gaze snapped back to Justin, and one corner of the line quirked upwards for the barest moment. “And after you’ve spoken to the quartermaster, go see your father.”

Justin saluted, then rapped Harl on the shoulder to accompany him. He owed the old man a favor, and being the first into the Citadel to hear the latest gossip and soak his weary bones in a tub was the best Justin would be able to offer.

At six and fifty, Harl had given forty years of his life to the company. Never quite sharp enough to serve as an officer, never quite lucky enough to find a woman that’d give him a life beyond the company, never quite fast enough with his sword to win acclaim on the battlefield. When he’d turned fifty, someone had pushed the right papers to get him the mostly honorary title of squire. He was solid, dependable, and always the last man to laugh at the joke. Sometimes Justin had the sense that he only laughed because other people were.

A solid soldier, but not one to spend much time talking to, which suited Justin fine for the last lap before home. 

He needed the time to think of what in the world he would say to his father. If he hadn’t been commanded to see him, Justin would have put it off for a day or two. Spent some time drinking, maybe wenching, anywhere but standing at attention before the Archmagus and telling him his only son would not be donning the blue mantle of a wizard in training. 

They had reached the first stones of the causeway, and he still hadn’t a clue how to begin. He looked up at the towers again, but the magic of the mist didn’t work the same way this close. Even looking into the sea didn’t help; it was unusually restful, giving up the mirror image of exactly what Justin didn’t want to see.

Towers, yes- but too many as stubs of fingers, obscenely mutilated before they could reach the sky. Some were blackened by the magics that had consumed them- Justin had counted them once. They were the five spires in the Moon Quarter, as though some unthinkable destruction had been focused on that one part of the city. He’d heard once that Danu’s priestesses were still finding bodies there, to be tenderly gathered and consigned to the earth amid prayers and incense.

But it may have just been a story to keep the Citadel’s too few children from playing among the unstable structures.

Danu’s Quarter was still reasonably intact, and it was where most of the inhabitants remained. The Sun Quarter was for learning, and Erdu’s was for those who served, who only allowed trespass for ceremonial purposes.

Erdu the Father indeed, Justin snorted to himself. Not one to let you make a home, just come in, be judged, and be gone. Stone hewn rooms for stone hewn hearts and minds. He had never particularly enjoyed his visits to the temple proper, though most of a company found their way there while in the city for the simple rites to ease a soldier’s conscience.

But Danu- ah, that was another matter entirely. At the barest edges of memory that one has from very early childhood, he could remember causing an unholy amount of fuss from having climbed up onto the effigy and fallen asleep. He didn’t know what had drawn him to the unlikely marble couch beyond that it was cool on a hot day, and he felt safe under the lady’s soft smile. 

He hadn’t had the words to explain at three, and he wasn’t sure he had them now. Justin only knew that when his mind was troubled, it was restful to sit on one of the benches that was always offered in a temple to Danu. Words that tangled themselves up in his mind into unholy knots magically untangled and let themselves form into the neat, regimented lines he preferred his thoughts and feelings to have. Those of the company that knew of his habits believed the visits were not for the ease of mind, but the easing of urges of the body. Danu’s priestesses were known for their warm welcomes, and Justin did not dissuade them from thinking whatever it was they wanted to think.

Luck was with them at the gate, in the form of the quartermaster himself in a suspiciously affable mood. The burly dwarf stumped over to the travelers, slapping Justin’s horse on the shoulder. “Ah, Justin, son of Joshathan- Dama Tiah must be finishing the circuit early. What’s the headcount, lad?”

“Full company of five hundred, sir,” Justin answered, with the barest hint of pride.

The quartermaster whistled. “You’re the first this season to meet the mark. Ride on with you, I’ll give good report of you to the dama.” The broad wink after meant that the messengers would have a few free hours for their own pleasure. It took Harl a moment to realize the implication before giving his overly enthusiastic thanks, and Justin could still hear the old man’s effusions halfway down the street.

Justin sighed and wondered how many of the inns near the gate were offering the dwarf kickbacks this week. If he reported it officially, he’d be a tattletale. If he dropped a quiet word in the right ear, he could get a cut, the wrong one and he’d get cut. Shrugging to himself, he decided it wasn’t his affair. 

Riding on past temptations of the flesh, he also abjured comfort to his spirit and passed the temple of Danu with another sigh.

Knights, above common soldiers, could be trusted to follow their orders as a matter of honor.

Above all, Justin valued his honor, and it was time his father understood that. Resolute, Justin went to do his duty.

From the time he woke the tiny fae that still served in the gatehouse until he was presented in the formal dining room by the ever pompous faun he had never known by any name other than Vernus, Justin didn’t have time to work himself up into a proper fret. He could have sworn every member of his father’s extensive retinue had welcomed ‘young Master Justin’ at least three times, all with the greatest of warmth and respect. The maidservants sighed at his trim form in riding leathers, his father’s valet laid out fresh clothes (and the thought of clothes properly cleaned that hadn’t been clumsily mended by himself was almost reason enough to come home) and sent him to the baths.

The naiads had seen to his grooming, and very properly, too. Perhaps you would hear lewd tales of what went on in other bath houses, but in Joshathan, son of Josiah’s manor, there would be no such breach of decorum. The attendants were appropriately formless containers of fluidity, and seemingly sexless until they chose to speak.

The largest one, a furrow upon her brow, would not release Justin to the attentions of the masseuse until she had shaved him. He had stoically permitted the naiad to do her job, both deeply embarrassed at the poor job he’d made of clearing the stubble two days before and gratified to have it done properly before he had to face his father.

And so it came that when Justin was presented most formally by the stuffy faun butler, he was scrubbed, shaven, and dressed within an inch of his life.

The dining hall was immense and imposing, with a table that would seat a hundred guests. The vaulted ceiling was a dome of glass, allowing both the light of the stars and the city to shine through. Interior light was provided by wall sconces that were once inhabited by glowing pixies in every shade of the rainbow, but now held ordinary candles.

Of course, Vernus had ushered the son of the house through the eastern door, as befitting a member of the family returning from a long journey. While Justin appreciated the honor, that meant he had half the length of the hall to walk to reach his father’s right hand at the northern end of the table.

He just stopped himself from snapping to attention when the Archmagus looked up from the missive he was reading. To cover the near breach of manners, he strode smartly to his chair, feeling his father’s hooded dark eyes on him like a weight of disapproval.

When he arrived at the massive chair, all gleaming blackwood, Joshathan surprised him by rising. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Father.”

It was said of the Archmagus that his face never betrayed his thoughts until the moment he decided it would. Justin had fervently agreed with that view, and the longer he stayed under his father’s gaze, the harder it was not to break a sweat.

Joshathan looked his son over from head to toe, his thin lips not quite pursed. After a very long observation, he clapped Justin on the shoulder and bade him sit. “How were the roads coming in? We hadn’t expected you for some days more.”

Justin sank into the seat gratefully, feeling as though he had passed some kind of test. “Stormy, but with wind rather than rain, so they were dry and passable, sir.”

The lips did purse now, a moue of displeasure. “While I appreciate the respect, Justin, can we settle on father as formal address, please?”

Rebuked, Justin ducked his head in apology, which made his father sigh and motion for the wine to be poured. It was only then that Justin realized there was a third place setting for the evening meal. He looked back to his father, only to see a flicker of amusement in return. “Did Lamplighter manage to wake up for you?”

“Yes, father, a bit reluctantly, but no more so or less than any of the smaller fae I’ve seen lately.”

“Mmmm,” Joshathan tapped one finger on the base of his wine glass. “I fear the day is coming in which they shall go into the deeper sleep, like even unto death.”

That was a startling idea, though Justin supposed he should have seen it coming. “Why do the sea and river nymphs stay, but not the pixies and faeries?”

As he knew it would, the question sparked the educator within the Archmagus, and it was as though Justin had never left the gracious manor for a rough life in the wilds. “When the Adversary claimed the leylines of the world, the oldest of the fae went to him or into the deepest sleep at once; starved of the essence of their lives they had no other choices. The smaller, younger ones drank more recently from the well, and so can share their magic with us a bit longer.”

“Naiads, dryads, fauns, satyrs, and all their kith and kin are as far separated racially from the fae as we are from elves and dwarves. What other sustenance they require they receive from the elements and the good land herself.”

Justin didn’t know how long Dama Tiah had been listening at the door, but there was no mistaking the voice that rang out over the dining hall. “So it’s almost as though the heart land is worth guarding and protecting, isn’t it, Josh, and maybe even the folk?” It was clearly an old, old argument, from the flat phrasing of the challenge to the way the Archmagus’s jaw tightened.

“Ah yes, won’t you join us. I must have a word with Vernus.”

Dama Tiah waved father and son back into their chairs when they would have risen. “Don’t bother, I told him to get the food moving in the appropriate direction, like a useful little goat.” Swallowing hard, Justin looked to his father to see him both wincing and grinding his teeth before slowly exhaling through his nose.

“How thoughtful of you,” Joshathan said in a murmur.

Dama Tiah’s eyes sparkled with what could have been amusement or malice. “I didn’t want him listening at the door while we discussed whatever it is that we’re going to do with our son.” Only then did the Dama’s gaze turn to Justin, raising her wine glass to him in a salute. “After all, he’s done his mother so very proud.”