I know you guys are patiently waiting for the Emperor’s Edge finale, and I did send the manuscript off to my beta readers, so things are moving right along. In the meantime, if you’re curious to read something I wrote about ten years ago (yes, before Amaranthe existed even in my mind!), I decided to dig out an old story that I once sold to a small (read: itty bitty) press for a mercenary-themed anthology. Alas, the press bit it before the book was published (and the authors were paid), and my story never saw the light of day.
With most “trunk” stories from back in the day, I don’t have any interest in foisting them on the unsuspecting public, but, years later, I still like this one (even if the Glen Cook “Black Company” influence is rather obvious!). So… I asked Shelley over at Holloway House to proof read it and had Glendon over at Streetlight Graphics muster up a cover, and I’m putting it out there on my own.
“Degrees of Delusion” is a long short story (no, that’s not an oxymoron — really!), coming in just under 10,000 words (I distinctly remember having to snip, snip a lot to get it below that requirement for the anthology), and is priced at 99 cents (unless you’re subscribed to my newsletter, in which case you’ve already received a coupon to grab it free from Smashwords). The story isn’t related to any of my other published works, but you can find my usual humor and adventure in there, as always.
If you want to give it a try, here’s the blurb and an excerpt:
Degrees of Delusion
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Blurb
After being publicly shamed and kicked out of the imperial service academy, Fortis chose to serve in the only other way possible: as a mercenary.
Working far from the boundaries of his homeland, he never thought he’d have anything to do with the empire again… until a powerful wizard hires the company to destroy an imperial outpost. Fortis must choose between betraying his captain and comrades or firing on the very men he once dreamed of joining.
Excerpt
The cannonball slammed into the water three feet from the bow of our clipper. The deck rocked. The black powder I was pouring missed the muzzle of my rifle and trickled onto my hand. I cursed.
Barefoot sailors scurried past, grumbling as they tripped over the soldiers crowding the deck. They would stop complaining once we closed to grappling range and the company became useful—if we closed. The pirate ship seemed content to lob cannonballs from a distance.
Musket and pistol shots began peppering the air. Too much water separated us; their accuracy would be horrendous.
A shot thudded into the railing above my head. Wood splintered like bone cracking. I reminded myself luck counted for as much as accuracy. Being shot at was a familiar experience, but it set my heart galloping regardless. I cursed again and flicked shards of wood from my hair.
“Why so grouchy, Fortis?” Akari chirped from my side. She is one of only three women in the company, tough enough to march from dawn to dusk with sixty pounds on her back. And crazy enough to love this sort of thing.
I issued my best glower, alas somewhat diminished by the sawdust trickling into my eyes. “Our mission isn’t supposed to start until we get to the island.” I pulled a ball out of my ammo pouch. “I shouldn’t be fighting pirates. I’m an engineer. I studied at—”
“The Academy,” Akari interrupted, “the most competitive school in the empire where you were trained to be an officer in the Imperial Army. Really, Fortis. The way you work your education into every conversation is shameless.”
“I, er—” I cleared my throat. “That’s Corporal Fortis now, remember? You’re not supposed to be dressing me down.”
“Forgive me, Corporal.” Akari’s dark eyes twinkled. “You never did explain why they kicked you out.” She was loading her own weapons, a musket and two pistols. Her black-skinned hands moved with swift competence.
I peeked over the rail. Our merchant ship was closing with the pirate ship, but had not reached a range worth shooting across. I preferred not to take a shot until I knew I could hit.
“I had a relationship with another cadet. We kept it quiet, since they don’t approve of that sort of thing. But then we got stupid. There was an incident on a parade field that was supposed to be empty, but wasn’t….” I caught Akari’s smirk, scowled, and rushed the rest, “Anyway, I did it to myself. Drunk and horny make an unadvisable combination.”
“Four years at the highly vaunted Imperial Academy and you couldn’t figure that out without the benefit of an audience?”
“It was five years, and—”
Another cannonball rocked the ship—closer this time. How long until the pirates had our range down? And why did we only have one cannon while they had a bank of four on each side? Cursed second-rate merchant ship.
“Corporal Fortis!” The captain’s bark cut through the chaos like a musket ball through smoke. “Get over here.”
I gave Akari a good luck pat on the shoulder, then scampered across the deck, hunching to keep my head out of the line of fire. I darted up the stairs to the forecastle. The captain crouched against the rail nearest the pirate ship, his scarred, hulking form reminiscent of a thug rather than an officer. Lieutenant Jorres squatted at his side.
My grousing forgotten, I slumped down beside them and glanced back and forth, eager to be part of whatever plan they had.
“That thing loaded?” The captain jerked a thumb at my rifle.
“Yes, sir.”
“Show us you’re worth your pay, Corporal.”
“Any particular target?” Unfortunately, the siding of the pirate ship protected the men at the cannons.
“The officers,” Lieutenant Jorres said, even as the captain said, “The sail.”
“The sail?” Jorres asked.
I caught on. Our cannons had torn through the rigging of the middle sail on their main mast, and it hung by a couple of ropes.
I concentrated on the rise and fall of the ship, sighted, and fired. The pan flashed and smoke bled from the muzzle. My ball sliced through the target. The captain handed me his rifle, and I aimed at another rope. Hit. I wiped sweaty palms on my trousers, then repeated the motion with Jorres’s weapon. The heavy sail crumpled to their deck, burying half the scurrying crew and temporarily smothering two out of the four cannons.
“Nice shooting,” the captain said.
“Huh.” Lieutenant Jorres chortled. “That was almost as fine as watching a woman’s dress drop to the floor.” He thumped me on the back. “Not that you’ve seen that.”
“Oh, I’ve seen you in your dress, sir.” I flashed a smile.
He clenched his jaw, and the tendons in his thick neck leaped to attention.
“Cocky git, isn’t he?” the captain asked.
“Yes,” Jorres growled. “Don’t know why you promoted him, sir. Just because he can shoot doesn’t mean he can lead.”
“We’ll see.”
A cannonball sailed over the deck, reminding us we still had work to do. The captain handed me his reloaded rifle and told me to pick off anyone giving orders. We started a routine, the captain and Jorres loading, me firing. With grim satisfaction, I watched the distant figures pitch over. Given a choice between killing or subduing, I’d prefer the latter, but if the captain wanted someone dead, I would make him dead. The others respect the captain because he’s big and tough; I respect him because he beats me four out of five games at Strat-tics. Either way, we jump to obey his orders.
Around the deck, our men formed knots and followed our example. While the pirates struggled to push their errant sail out of the way, our ammo tore through their cadre. Smoke hazed the air and stung my eyes, but I kept firing.
The pirates gave up. They slunk away having never closed to boarding range.
The sailors cheered and whooped. Our men yawned and feigned boredom. We’re professionals, after all.
The captain gathered Lieutenant Jorres and his senior non-coms. They had been planning our mission before the pirates’ appearance. I raised hopeful eyebrows.
“Yeah,” the captain told me. “You can join us.”
We gathered around a crate. Four pistols pinned the corners of a map against the wind.
“Here’s the situation,” the captain said. “The desert’s wizard-rulers have formed an alliance. Again.”
We chuckled. Nothing new there.
“This time, they’re planning to take on the empire.”
We sobered. That was new.
“We’re leading the first attack, taking the imperial outpost on Kershan Island.”
I cleared my throat. “Sir…the empire? Those wizards don’t have a chance. The emperor matches their power, and he’s got more troops, superior resources and organization.” I grew up in the empire. How could I attack an outpost manned by the army I had been trained to serve in? “Should we be considering this?”
Lieutenant Jorres scowled at me. “It’s the job. You don’t question it, you just do it.”
Surprisingly, the captain’s eyes were more sympathetic. I don’t know his past, but he has my bronze skin and black hair, and the vestiges of an imperial accent.
“There wasn’t a choice,” he said.
“Oh.” That meant we had been drafted by some wizard who could arrange our deaths quite easily if we did not comply.
“Our orders are to capture the outpost and hold it for two weeks. That’s it. After that, our employer will arrive with his own troops. They’ll be responsible for repelling further imperial attacks.”
“After we handle the dangerous part,” a sergeant grumbled.
The captain spread his hand, palm up as if to say, “That’s what we do.” He prodded the map. “The outpost faces a harbor on the western side of Kershan Island. We’re coming in from the southeast.” He circumnavigated the egg-shaped land mass with a callused finger. “There aren’t many beaches. The closest we can put ashore is here,” he stabbed a border along the southern edge of the island, “and march the rest of the way. With the rugged terrain, it’ll take a week to get to the outpost.”
“Why can’t we sail directly there?” someone asked.
“The harbor is shallow. Ships have to anchor in the depths, out of cannon range, then send their cargo in on longboats. We only have four boats. Would you care to port three hundred men back and forth while imperial soldiers fire on us?”
“No, sir.”
“Could we sneak in at night?” Lieutenant Jorres asked.
Aware of my background, the captain glanced at me. I confirmed his doubt with a headshake.
“The Imperial Army is not infallible,” the captain said, “but it is competent. The harbor will be watched day and night.”
“Marching it is,” Jorres sighed.
The captain’s eyes crinkled. He probably looked forward to a rigorous march after a week at sea.
“A small advance party,” the captain said, “will stay onboard. The ship will drop them off at the outpost. We’ve brought cases of alcohol. Our men will pose as traders. While they’re selling their wares, they’ll also be figuring a way to eliminate the sentries and let us through the gate at midnight on…” he traced the route of their march, “let’s say the seventh night.”
“Will we be killing all the soldiers stationed there?” I asked.
“There’s a four-cell jail block in the bottom of the headquarters building and that’s it. We can hardly let four hundred imperial soldiers wander free on their parole.”
I nodded glumly and reminded myself these people had ousted me from their army; I owed them no allegiance.
“The outpost is walled and guarded by cannons,” the captain continued. “They outnumber us, so it’s imperative we have surprise on our side.”
“Who do you have in mind for the advance party?” Jorres asked.
“Fortis.”
“Eh?” I said eloquently.
The captain’s eyebrows rose. “Do you want to lead it?”
Usually, I enjoy missions that require thinking rather than blowing things up. But could I do it this time? When it meant betraying my homeland?
The captain was watching me, eyes unreadable. He is difficult to know. I have seen him face down tyrants, beat unbeatable odds, and make us believe we can do the impossible. Among a company of mostly illiterate thugs, he owns a collection of books ranging from military strategy and history to philosophy and poetry. I want very much to know him better, to earn his trust and respect, to be more than a subordinate. Perhaps this was my chance.
“Yes, sir,” I said, then shrugged as if the matter concerned me little. “If it’ll get me out of a march, I’m your man.”
“Seven days, Fortis,” the captain reiterated. “I want the gate open for us on the seventh night.”
* * *
The sun peered over the forest and drove away lingering shadows in the harbor. The outpost loomed above the beach, walled and imposing. On all sides, the grass had been shorn away, leaving only finger-length stubble, too short to hide encroaching invaders. Similarly, the fat evergreens beyond the grass had been cleared for a mile in each direction.
Before we had rowed halfway to the dock, a squad of soldiers appeared, wearing imperial black with gold piping. They carried muskets and knives, and watched our approach with alert eyes.
Despite the cool morning breeze, sweat dribbled down my back. I rubbed the two-days’ growth on my chin, wondering if it made me look like a civilian or like a soldier trying to look like a civilian.
Akari, rowing at my side, portrayed calm I did not feel. Fang and Archer—one a hunter of men, one a hunter of animals, both renowned for their stealth—rowed a second longboat. The Gorelli twins, skilled fighters, sat one each in the bows. Sailors accompanied us to row their boats back after we unloaded. Then the ship would disappear, leaving us alone among enemies.
I leaned close to Akari. “Make sure you don’t get caught anywhere without one of us with you.”
“Why?”
“There’re hundreds of soldiers stationed here, and if I recall correctly, their assignments last a year. Families aren’t allowed, so unless there are some female traders, you may be the only woman on the island. That’s a little… tempting.”
She lifted her chin. “I can take care of myself.”
“Maybe so, but why chance drawing unwanted attention by setting yourself up for a fight when you can avoid it altogether?”
Akari acknowledged the wisdom with a clipped nod, then she smiled a bit. “Thanks for choosing me for this mission.”
“Sure.”
“I don’t get to do this sort of thing very often. Most of the company sees the women as liabilities, no matter how many times we prove otherwise.”
Did she realize I was just as prejudiced, only I condemned people based on their intelligence rather than sex? Maybe it didn’t matter to her, since my judgments came out in her favor.
Quietly, she added, “Sometimes you get so used to proving yourself that you forget to be yourself.”
“Mm. Quite.”
Our boats bumped against the dock. A soldier with corporal’s rank stepped forward, carrying a clipboard and pen.
“Morning, Corporal,” I said.
His eyes widened. Had I messed up already? Would a civilian merchant know a soldier’s rank from the pin at his collar? I hid my unease by gesturing for my comrades to tie the boats.
“State your purpose,” the corporal said, after I hopped onto the smooth wooden planks of the dock.
“Merchants, here to sell our cargo.”
“Which is?”
“Alcohol. Various spirits to please a variety of tastes.”
The squad of soldiers brightened and began chattering amongst themselves. The corporal waved them to silence.
“Anything else?”
“Just our baggage.”
The corporal scribbled on his pad, then told us to unload. Once we had crates and gear on the dock, his men searched us and our belongings. I clasped my hands behind my back to keep from wringing them. The company had kept our military-issue gear, powder, and firearms, but I worried the imperials would find something we had overlooked. They seemed more interested in our cargo than our belongings, though. They poked at bottles and casks, musing about samples, though under the corporal’s stern eye, none of their hands strayed. I wished they would stray, give me some excuse to dislike them. It’s always easier to kill miscreants than people just doing their jobs.
The soldiers apparently found nothing suspicious in our cargo, though they raised their eyebrows at the number of knives they discovered stashed on Fang. I threw him an exasperated look when the eighth blade, an ugly serrated thing, clunked to the dock.
“Extensive armory,” the corporal commented.
“He’s my bodyguard,” I said.
The corporal let us keep one knife each and had his men confiscate the rest. He said we could pick them up before we shipped out. We did not complain.
The corporal handed me the clipboard. “Sign here.”
I hesitated. My father still lived in the empire—I did not want my exploits here to make trouble for him—so I scrawled the name of a cadet who had died during training exercises my third summer at the Academy. Two thousand miles away, it seemed unlikely anyone would have heard of him here, and it was a name I would have no trouble remembering.
The corporal sent his men marching up the beach, then told me, “Watch out for your woman.”
“Trouble with that sort of thing here?”
“Has been in the past.” As an afterthought, he added, “Watch out for yourself as well.”
“What?”
He snorted. “You’re prettier than she is.”
Before I could think of a reply, he clomped after his men. The Gorelli brothers chortled at this proclamation. Even my dour hunters looked amused.
“Oh, be quiet,” I said. “Let’s get this stuff up the beach.”
Akari elbowed me and grinned. “Make sure you don’t get caught anywhere alone.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
The interior of the outpost had the same fastidious, martial feel as the exterior. The familiar scent of lye soap trickled from an open door. It would not be a military base without someone somewhere cleaning.
Three other visiting merchants had stalls in the small marketplace. A gaggle of off-duty soldiers gathered outside our booth before we finished unpacking. I left my comrades to set up, then grabbed Fang and went to rent rooms. Every man we passed wore imperial blacks and carried weapons. Every man we passed would have killed us if he knew our thoughts. No reason to be nervous.
When we returned, even more soldiers loitered. Akari threw me a worried look. I opened my mouth to inquire, but a strong arm clamped onto my shoulder.
“You Henaer Absillon?” a sergeant asked, naming the pseudonym I had signed on the clipboard.
“Yes.”
“You’re under arrest.”
* * *
Grab the rest for 99 cents: Amazon | Kobo | Smashwords | Barnes & Noble (Apple coming soon)
Fanfiction is not the best way to market your original fiction. I’ve gotten perhaps 100 solid customers from my fanfiction writing, and about six editors whose opinions I trust. But most people reading fanfiction are reading it because there is a world they are interested in exploring. They aren’t interested in your world. (A bit of advice: if you write for different fandoms you’ll pick up readers in each genre who will like your writing so much they’ll “follow” you into fandoms they don’t care about–those readers will read your original stories with gusto. If you are going to write fanfiction, writing a variety of different story types in a variety of different fandoms is best).
