Friday, May 10, 2019

Speculative Fiction Links of the Week for May 10, 2019


It's time for the weekly round-up of interesting links about speculative fiction from around the web, this week with tributes to Peter Mayhew, the final season of Game of Thrones, Avengers: Endgame,  Detective Pikachu, High Life, Chernobyl, the new Twilight Zone, What We Do In The Shadows, the Tolkien biopic, a plagiarism scandal involving the Elder Scrolls Elseweyr game and much more. 

Speculative fiction in general:

Film and TV:

Tributes to Peter Mayhew:

Comments on Avengers: Endgame (warning: possible spoilers):

Comments on the final season of Game of Thrones (spoilers):

Comments on Detective Pikachu:

Comments on High Life:

Comments on Chernobyl:

Comments on the new Twilight Zone:

Comments on What We Do In The Shadows:

Comments on Tolkien: 

Comments on the Elder Scrolls Elseweyr plagiarism scandal: 

Awards: 

Writing, publishing and promotion:

Interviews:

Reviews:

Classics reviews:

Crowdfunding:

Con and event reports:

Science and technology:

Free online fiction:

Odds and ends:
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Monday, May 6, 2019

The Bleak Heath (Thurvok, Book 5) by Richard Blakemore and Cora Buhlert

Release date: April 18, 2019
Subgenre: Sword and Sorcery

About The Bleak Heath:

 

Thurvok the sellsword and his companions Meldom, thief and occasional assassin, and the sorceress Sharenna are fleeing across the Bleak Heath after saving Meldom's childhood sweetheart Lysha from the gallows. Weary and exhausted, they are relieved to come upon a hut on the heath. But what they find inside that hut may well be more dangerous than the heath itself.

This is a novelette of 10500 words or approx. 35 print pages in the Thurvok sword and sorcery series, but may be read as a standalone. Includes an introduction and afterword.

 

Excerpt:

 

East of the city of Greyvault, there was a plain that stretched all the way to the Desolate Peaks. Few things grew here and even fewer people lived here, for the soil was poor and white as ash.
One of the few things that did grow on this plain was the hardy heather plant and so the entire plain was blanketed with patches of heather, crisscrossed by paths of white sand and dotted with juniper bushes and stunted birch trees and rocks that looked as if they had been randomly deposited here by a giant’s hand.
For a few weeks in late summer, when the heather was in bloom, the entire plain shimmered purple. The rest of the year it was brown and bleak. And so the people of Greyvault called it the Bleak Heath and did not go there, unless it was absolutely necessary. For the good people of Greyvault believed that the heath was cursed and haunted by ghosts and monsters born of sorcery and black magic.
But nonetheless, some travellers did cross the Bleak Heath, out of necessity or desperation. Four such travellers, two men and two women, were marching across the heath on foot, their forms outlined sharply against the slate grey sky.
One of the men was tall and muscular, with black hair and bronzed skin that was rarely found so far up north, where the winters were long and the sun was weak. He was clad all in leather, a great sword hanging on his hip. This was Thurvok, the sellsword.
The second man was shorter and more slightly built, lithe and wiry rather than muscular. His skin was pale, his hair dark and his eyes as grey as the skies above the heath. He was clad all in black, the only relief a silver amulet glittering at his neck and a silver dagger gleaming at his waist. This was Meldom, thief, cutpurse and occasional assassin, though he had recently sworn off killing except when absolutely necessary.
One of the women was tall, almost as tall as Thurvok. Her statuesque form was swathed in a moss green cloak. Strands of long hair the colour of flame fell from underneath the hood of her cloak. This was Sharenna, the sorceress.
The second woman was slight and clad in a gown of plain white linen of the sort worn by penitents and prisoners condemned to die on the scaffold. Her bare feet were wrapped only in rags, that offered scant protection against the prickly heather plants that sprouted from the path here and there. The harsh wind blew her long dark hair into her face and made her shiver in her thin gown. This was Lysha, daughter of a merchant from Greyvault and Meldom’s childhood sweetheart whom the other three had recently saved from the gallows.
Lysha did not complain about the cold and the harsh wind. In fact, she barely spoke at all. Nonetheless, Meldom noticed that she freezing and so he took off his own cloak and wrapped it around Lysha.
Lysha flashed him a grateful smile. “Thank you. But won’t you be cold?”
Meldom shook his head. “No, it’s fine,” he lied through his chattering teeth, “I’m used to it.”
As they continued on their way across the Bleak Heath, Sharenna moved closer to Meldom.
“Maybe we should stop and make camp for the night,” she said, keeping her voice low, so none of the others would hear, “Your girl is in a bad condition and you are not much better off.”
Meldom had his teeth clenched, so they wouldn’t chatter in the cold. But nonetheless, he shook his head. “No, we have to go on. It’s not safe here.”
“But why?” Sharenna wanted to know, “There’s no sign of any pursuit. And besides, I think that after the chaos we caused, the Rhagur rulers of Greyvault have bigger problems than us to worry about.”
Thurvok, slowed down his mighty strides, allowing the others to catch up.
“Such as the fact that their current governor was strangled by the murdered corpse of their previous governor,” he said with a grin, for the sight of a murderer getting his just comeuppance at the hands of his victim was a source of rare amusement to him, “And this time, the Rhagur can’t even blame the people of Greyvault, for it’s all too clear what really happened.”
“The Bleak Heath still isn’t safe”, Meldom insisted, “Or why do you think most travellers approach Greyvault via the Forest of the Hanged? Hint, it’s not because the route is so scenic and the smell of rotting corpses so intoxicating. It’s because awful as the Forest of the Hanged is, the Bleak Heath is worse.”
Thurvok looked around, scanning for hidden dangers, but all he saw were purplish blooming heather, jutting juniper bushes and scattered rocks.
“Doesn’t look very dangerous to me,” he remarked.
“But trust me, it is,” Meldom insisted, “There are… things here. Men turning to stone, rocks coming to life, creatures emerging from the night’s mists to snatch unwary travellers until not a trace is left…”
Thurvok emitted a roaring laugh. Sharenna shot him a warning glance, but Thurvok ignored her.
“Oh, come on. You know I don’t believe in that sort of thing.”
“Normally, I don’t believe in that sort of thing either,” Meldom replied, more than a little testy, “But this is different. I grew up in Greyvault. I’ve heard the stories all my life, stories about travellers gone missing on the heath, never to be seen again…”
“Stories, sure,” Thurvok countered, “Doesn’t mean they’re true.”

 

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About Richard Blakemore:

Richard Blakemore (1900 – 1994) was a prolific writer of pulp fiction. Nowadays, he is best remembered for creating the Silencer, a masked vigilante in the vein of the Shadow or the Spider, during the hero pulp boom of the 1930s. But Richard Blakemore also wrote in many other genres, including an early sword and sorcery series about the adventures of a sellsword named Thurvok and his companions.
Richard Blakemore's private life was almost as exciting as his fiction. He was a veteran of World War I and II as well as a skilled sportsman and adventurer who travelled the world during the 1920s. He may also have been the person behind the mask of the real life Silencer who prowled New York City between 1933 and 1942, fighting crime, protecting the innocent and punishing the guilty, though nothing has ever been proven.

Richard Blakemore was married for more than fifty years to Constance Allen Blakemore and the couple had four children.

 

Blog | Twitter  

 

About Cora Buhlert:

Cora Buhlert was born and bred in North Germany, where she still lives today – after time spent in London, Singapore, Rotterdam and Mississippi. Cora holds an MA degree in English from the University of Bremen and is currently working towards her PhD. 

Cora has been writing, since she was a teenager, and has published stories, articles and poetry in various international magazines. She is the author of the Silencer series of pulp style thrillers, the Shattered Empire space opera series, the In Love and War science fiction romance series, the Helen Shepherd Mysteries and plenty of standalone stories in multiple genres.

When Cora is not writing, she works as a translator and teacher. She also runs the Speculative Fiction Showcase and the Indie Crime Scene and contributes to the Hugo-nominated fanzine Galactic Journey.

 

Website | Mailing list | Twitter | Instagram | Pinterest | YouTube | Mastodon

 

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Sunday, May 5, 2019

Monster (Arca, Book 4) by Karen Diem

Release date: May 5, 2019
Subgenre: Urban Fantasy, Superheroes

About Monster:

 

Tax season. It's all forms and games until someone loses a murderer.

Authorities have abandoned the search for a sadistic serial killer with a grudge against Zita Garcia's family. Never one to sit still, the sometime superhero and reluctant tax preparer will do whatever it takes to find him.

With her loved ones at stake, she'll call in her best friends and questionable new allies to help. If finding her quarry means Zita has to fight literal monsters, wrangle glitter-obsessed vampires, or go to a nightclub, she'll do it. Even if the undead and line dances make her skin crawl. She needs to get her mask on and solve this fast—before things go from bad to hearse.

A shovel to get through the three feet of snow wouldn't hurt either.

Monster is the fourth book in the Arca superhero urban fantasy series and includes immoderate language, lame sexual innuendo, and comic book violence.

 

Excerpt:

 

It’s stupid to wake a dragon. It’s suicidal to wake one by repeatedly poking it with a pointy stick.
From the looks of the scene on the television, someone had not only found Dragon, a murderous metahuman from the Seventies, but they had also found a stick long and pointy enough to wake him. The town of Al Jawf now burned as a consequence.
Zita Garcia—extreme sports enthusiast, tax preparer, and secret vigilante—blinked sleep out of her eyes as she watched her best friend’s television. “I hope they missed hitting him with those tactical nukes all those years ago because it’ll be pretty hard to take down a creature that survived direct hits.” As she spoke, she yanked on the purple Spandex-like sportswear she had to wear when using her powers. The special fabric disappeared when she shapeshifted to an animal form but reappeared when she claimed a human one. Any other clothing shredded, and people took her even less seriously when she was naked, much to her annoyance. Plus, sometimes she got cold or needed to carry snacks.
Wyn cinched the belt on her silky teal bathrobe, hazel eyes troubled. Despite the early hour, her hair still cascaded in perfect chestnut ringlets over her slim shoulders, and she appeared to have escaped a high-end pajama party photo shoot for a magazine. A minuscule cup of tea and an e-reader sat abandoned on a table nearby, next to a tidy pile of lavender fabric. Almost identical lilac-point Siamese cats sat on either side of her crimson sofa, like malevolent, glaring bookends. “They’re going to need our help there, regardless of what happened with the missiles in the Seventies. You didn’t get dressed before you came here? Or at least comb your hair?”
“You woke me from a sound sleep and said it was an emergency. I thought you were in trouble, so I grabbed my basic Arca gear and came. Snuck in and everything in case you were being held hostage and didn’t even stop to grab the new sweatshirt part of the costume. Was I supposed to hesitate?” In a concession to her friend, Zita paused to smooth down her short black hair, every strand of which seemed to be going in a different direction, save for the side she’d been sleeping on, which was flattened by her pillow. Her night clothes, a well-worn sleeveless white undershirt and fuzzy rainbow leopard print pants, lay in a heap at her bare brown feet.
Wyn sighed. “No, I suppose not. At least Andy’s not here to blush. Do you want your phone or shoes?”
Zita shook her head. “Phone wouldn’t work overseas anyway, and I have to go in flying, so might as well leave the shoes here… so they’re not wrecked when I shift. We’ll have to just use party line,” she replied, referencing the telepathic communication that Wyn could create between herself, Zita, and their friend Andy.
After sighing, Wyn inclined her head. Her eyes unfocused as she stared into the distance.
Warmth ran through Zita as Wyn connected to her mind. Thanks.
Distantly, Andy’s presence joined the connection, his thoughts groggy. Hi, guys. Z, you couldn’t have Wyn wake me with a phone call?

 

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About Karen Diem:

 

Karen Diem is an independent fantasy author who loves books (not really a surprise), RPGs, animals (especially big dogs and fat cats), music, and superheroes. She's married and lives tucked away with her family somewhere, where they subsist on peanut butter sandwiches far more often than may be healthy. In her previous life, Karen was a nonfiction author and a number of less interesting things.  

Website | Twitter | Facebook | Pinterest

 

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Friday, May 3, 2019

Speculative Fiction Links of the Week for May 3, 2019


It's time for the weekly round-up of interesting links about speculative fiction from around the web, this week with the final season of Game of Thrones and the battle of Winterfell, Avengers: Endgame, Star Trek Discovery, The Orville, Chambers, season 2 of She-Ra and the Princesses of Power, season 2 of American Gods, the Tolkien biopic and much more. 

Speculative fiction in general:

Film and TV:

Comments on Avengers: Endgame (warning: possible spoilers):

Comments on the final season of Game of Thrones (spoilers):

Comments on Star Trek Discovery and Star Trek in general:

Comments on The Orville: 

Comments on season 2 of She-Ra and the Princesses of Power:

Comments on Chambers:

Comments on season 2 of American Gods: 

Comments on Tolkien:

Awards: 

Writing, publishing and promotion:

Interviews:

Reviews:

Classics reviews:

Crowdfunding:

    Con and event reports:

    Science and technology:

    Free online fiction:

    Odds and ends:
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    Thursday, May 2, 2019

    Condor Rising (Pirates of the Milky Way, Book 3) by Jaxon Reed

    Release date: April 18, 2019
    Subgenre: Space Opera

    About Condor Rising:

     

    The Republic has a new type of ship. The Condor-class is huge, deadly, and carries a secret weapon.

    One spy has all the details, but he's trapped and unable to share with his handler. She sets the wheels in motion to get him to Lute, the pirate stronghold, where they can meet and freely transfer information.

    As the League gathers an overwhelming force to take Gotha Mu, the tiny golden planet in the Seychar system, Captain Christopher Raleigh and his crew race to prevent League spies from leaking the surprise in store for them.

    Action, thrills, spies, gadgets, and deception await in this third installment of the Pirates of the Milky Way saga!

     

    Excerpt:

     

    Chapter One


    Biffender Jones walked out of the Embarkation/Disembarkation Zone in Petra Roe’s spaceport carrying a single duffel bag. He stopped for a minute to gain his bearings. 
    The place looked like a spaceport on any other world, built for functionality over aesthetics. He made his way down a large corridor to the line forming at Customs and endured the contraband scanner while he waited. 
    The line progressed rapidly. As per usual Customs was manned by a human, this one a middle-aged woman who gazed at her holoscreen as he approached, no doubt looking over his information. 
    “State your business on Petra Roe, Mr. Jones.” 
    “Um, tourism.” 
    She nodded and said, “Enjoy your stay.” 
    He walked past her and followed the crowd toward the exit. 
    Tourists were clearly evident, what few there were in the crowd. They were dressed for travel, wearing bright colors, chatting happily amongst themselves. Petra Roe was known for incredibly beautiful scenery, with green snow-capped mountains and beautiful white sandy beaches. The wealthy often vacationed here, although during the war their numbers had declined significantly. 
    Stepping outside, Biff blinked in sunshine for the first time in weeks. He had almost forgotten how good natural daylight felt. 
    Skycabbies approached him, offering to take him to any hotel in town. They were human, for the most part, but the cabs they directed people to were drones. 
    Biff had no plans, and no hotel reservations. He really had not thought much beyond getting here. All he knew was that his wife Andi, the prime suspect in Tetrarch Lopez’s murder, was likely on Lute by now. And the only way he could get to Lute was through Petra Roe. But how? There were no departures for Lute listed at the spaceport.
    He ignored the cabbies when he caught sight of a flickering holosign down the street, showing two cocktail glasses floating in a circle. He took off on foot, deciding to worry about a hotel later. Bars were often a good source of information in his line of work.
    The door to the bar slid open and his eyes adjusted again, this time to dim interior lighting. A handful of customers sat drinking in opposite corners. Everyone looked at him as he entered, but Biff sensed no hostility. The bar area was empty, with several vacant stools from which to choose. Biff picked one and headed for it, setting his bag on the floor near the middle of the bar, equidistant from both groups.  
    The bartender arrived, and Biff realized he was an android. He was an older model, with a decent looking face but it was before manufacturers perfected the eyes. The human eye, it so happens, is one of the more difficult things to replicate. Older models were often criticized for having “dead” or “spooky” eyes. This one indeed had spooky looking eyes. They were functional, but they gave Biff the creeps. Obviously, this was at least one of the reasons no one sat at the bar. 
    The proprietor must have decided to keep the old unit around for whatever reason. Maybe it filled in when human bartenders were unavailable, Biff thought. 
    The droid said, “What can I get you?”
    “Beer.” 
    It nodded, pulled out a frosted mug and headed for the taps. 
    Conversation between the groups had muted somewhat, Biff thought. Both sets were eyeing him, and maybe discussing him. He could not make out what was being whispered in either corner. 
    When the bartender returned with his beer, Biff said, “I’m looking for passage on a ship. I wonder if you might know anything.” 
    Both groups stopped talking altogether. Mentally, Biff shrugged. There did not seem to be a better way to do this.
    The android said, “All departures are noted on the main holosign at the spaceport. Perhaps you could find a ship heading for your destination there.” 
    Biff nodded and said, “I already checked. Where I want to go is not listed.” 
    “Where do you want to go?”
    “Lute.” 
    Dead silence reigned in the bar. No one said a word. 
    Finally the android said, “I’m afraid you won’t find many ships going there. That’s pirate territory. It is a restricted zone. Petra Roe only flies one official vessel there, and it’s not due for another week.” 
    Biff took a sip from his beer and said, “I’m sure other ships head that way from time to time. I just need to book passage with one, as soon as possible.” 
    A chair from the table on Biff’s right scraped back on the floor and a tall, ugly man stood up. He sauntered over toward Biff, covering the distance in a few long strides. For the first time, Biff sensed open hostility brewing. 
    The man stood taller than Biff. He had a paunchy middle and the tattoo on his shoulder was clearly visible with the sleeveless jacket he wore: a stylized E, the symbol for League Marines. 
    He leaned down on the bar, invading Biff’s personal space. His body odor came along with him, assaulting Biff’s nose. The man evidently had not showered or shaved in days. 
    He said, “Lute’s pirate territory. Now, why would you want to be going there?” 
    Biff took another sip of beer and looked at the man. 
    He set the mug down and said, “I have my reasons.” 
    The chairs from the other table scraped back, and all five people who had been sitting there approached the bar. Biff noted they were dressed identically, with tan t-shirts and dark brown pants. Probably crewmembers, he thought to himself. 
    When they began moving, Big Ugly’s companions stood up and headed that way, too. In seconds, every person in the place hovered near Biff’s barstool. 
    At this point, Biff decided to announce his affiliation with law enforcement. 
    He looked up into Big Ugly’s face, who was now staring daggers at the other group. He said, “I am a—”
    Before he could finish, someone from the other table slammed their fist into Big Ugly’s jaw. It knocked his head back, but he did not go down. Instead he roared in anger and started swinging. 
    Both sides threw punches, and Biff ducked down out of the way, carefully holding his beer. The fight quickly spread throughout the room, everybody knocking over tables and chairs. 
    The android bartender said, “Police are on the way. No fighting is allowed. Police are on the way.” 
    Two men ganged up on Big Ugly and threw him back across a table, which buckled under their combined weight. All three went down to the floor with a crash. 
    A young woman of Asian descent, wearing a tan shirt from the group at the other table, grabbed Biff’s arm and pulled him up. 
    “Come on,” she said. “We need to get out of here.” 
    Biff set his beer down, grabbed his duffel bag and followed her out. They weaved between fighters trading blows, fists and faces connecting with thwacks and thumps. 
    Out on the street, the woman hurried him along until they were half a block away. Then she slowed to a walk. They heard the sound of sirens as a squad car landed near the bar. A human cop and his android partner exited and rushed inside. 
    “Will your friends be alright?” Biff said. 
    “Oh yeah. We’ll pay the fine and spring them from jail before we leave. I’m Melanie Polansky, by the way.” 
    “I’m Biff.” 
    They shook hands. 
    “So, you’ll be wanting to come with us,” Melanie said. “We’re on the Salamander, an independent freighter. The reason you won’t see any departures heading to Lute from the spaceport is, there’s nothing authorized to go that way right now.” 
    Biff thought for a moment and said, “But you’re going anyway.” 
    She smiled, her entire face lighting up in a wide grin. 
    She said, “That’s right. And our Captain will be happy to take along a paying passenger, as well. I’m kind of new myself, but I know the Captain is always looking for extra fares.” 
    Smugglers, Biff thought. Bending the rules, and finding ways around laws and regulations. All for a profit. And I’m in law enforcement, not evasion. 
    They walked the remainder of the block in silence while Biff reached a conclusion. He thought about Andi, and how he needed to find her.
    They stopped at the next crosswalk and he said, “So, how much do you think your Captain will charge me to tag along on your trip to Lute?”

     

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    About Jaxon Reed:

    Jaxon Reed is a science fiction and fantasy author. Amazon's digital imprint, Kindle Press, selected his book The Empathic Detective for publication through Kindle Scout. Recently the sequel, Ghostsuit, was also awarded a publishing contract through Kindle Scout. He is the author of Thieves & Wizards, an epic fantasy, and The Redwood Trilogy, a science fiction series. Jaxon is an Aggie, living in Texas on a ranch with his wife and boys, several cats, and one pound dog.
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