Tag: books

The post-World War III world is a radically different place where magic and technology have become one in the violent struggle for global influence between nations. The rising powers of Persia and Musafiria are challenging the longtime dominance of the weakened Western powers, as the increasing use of magic provides them with a more level playing field.

Supernatural creatures from other planes are summoned and wielded as readily as machine guns and explosives by the special forces of the rival militaries, the most deadly of which are the elite contractors for the Nemesis Program. Both conventionally and unconventionally trained, the Nemesis Program is the hidden blade of the Hesperian National Intelligence and Security Agency, a weapon as lethal as it is deniable. But although they are given considerable leeway, not even Nemesis operatives are allowed to covenant with archdaimons… which poses a serious problem for Luke Landon when a simple assassination of a scientist goes badly awry.

NO GODS, ONLY DAIMONS is the first volume of The Covenant Chronicles, an exciting new supernatural Mil-SF series by Kai Wai Cheah, the Hugo-nominated author of Flashpoint: Titan, which appeared in There Will Be War Vol. X.

This modern supernatural Mil-SF novel is pretty wild and has nearly as much crazy, over-the-top action as a Larry Correia novel. It’s DRM-free and available on both Amazon and at the Castalia House store. In light of our long term concerns about Amazon’s viability as a publishing platform, we would encourage you to use the Castalia House store; both EPUB and MOBI editions for Kindle are available there. But either option is fine with us for the time being.

I should also mention that all four Moth & Cobweb books by John C. Wright are now available on the Castalia House store as well.

1. Swan Knight’s Son
2. Feast of the Elfs
3. Swan Knight’s Sword
4. Daughter of Danger

Moth & Cobweb Book Five, City of Corpses, will be out later this month.

EXCERPT FROM NO GODS, ONLY DAIMONS:

We dropped to the ground.

“AK fire,” Pete reported.

Several more bursts rang out, echoing through the city. The sound bounced off and around concrete and glass, coming from everywhere.

“Multiple shooters,” I added. “Can’t tell direction.”

“Can’t be more than a couple blocks away.” He picked himself up. “We gotta stop them.”

“Roger,” I said. “I’ll try to find them with open source intel.”

“I’m gonna get my long gun.”

“Go.”

He sprinted to a car parked down the road. I got to a knee and scanned around me. Civilians were still walking down the street, oblivious to the autofire raking the air, or froze in place. A couple actually stopped to stare at us. What the hell was wrong with people?

I powered up the Clipcom. An array of icons washed over my field of view. I touched the control button, freezing the screen in place, looked at the Memet icon and released.

The app booted. A deluge of raw information, updating every moment, flooded my cascade. Every major news agency reported a shooting in progress at Lacey’s in New Haven. An eyewitness had uploaded a blurry photo of a gunman racing into the department store, wearing a chest rig and cradling some kind of AK, maybe an AK-122.

Another photo showed a jinni. It looked like an old man with swarthy skin, flowing white hair and a thick beard, though his muscles were hard as rocks. But past his waist, the rest of him was a lion with exaggerated limbs, scaled up to support his mass. His tail whipped at air and spat venom—it was no tail, it was a snake.

This was a si’la in its default form. And si’lat were expert shapeshifters.

Pete slung a messenger bag around his neck, stuffed with everything the self-respecting gunfighter needed for an active shooter scenario. From the trunk he produced a Varangian Tactical carbine. It was one of the many, many variants of the AR-855 rifle; this one was designed by Special Operations veterans for their exacting needs.

As he checked the chamber, he asked, “Luke! Need a gun?”

“Got another rifle?”

“Just a pistol.”

“I’ve got mine,” I replied, drawing my SIG. “We’ll make do.”

He jumped into the driver’s seat. “What are we facing?”

I got in beside him. “Multiple shooters and jinn are hitting Lacey’s. Numbers unknown. AKs, grenades and at least one si’la.”

A fresh image appeared in the cascade. An ifrit, inside the mall.

“And an ifrit,” I added.

The car’s engine hummed to life. “Good thing I loaded aethertips.”

“Me too.”

We hit the road. I tuned the radio to the news and listened to a news station rattle off reiterations of the original active shooter report. The gunfire grew softer; the shooters must have moved indoors. Pete zipped through traffic, slipping past civilian cars too close for comfort.

“They’re inside the mall,” I said.

“Must be hitting the lunchtime crowd.”

Closing Memet, I opened Eipos, the preferred Internet telephony service of the Program, and dialed 911. The dispatcher picked up immediately.

“Emergency 911, this call is being recorded. How can I help?”

“We are two off-duty Federal agents responding to the shooting at Lacey’s,” I said. “Tell the first responders not to shoot us.”

“Okay, may I know what you look like?”

“Two white males. I’m wearing a black jacket, red shirt, blue jeans. I have a pistol. Partner has green polo shirt, khaki pants. He’s got an AR-855.”

“All right. What’s your name and which agency do you come from?”

I hung up and turned to Pete.

“Brick, comms on Eipos.”

I called his number. Pete grunted. Moments later the call window filled the screen. He was taking the call on his implants. I handed the app off to the holophone, piping sound into my buds, and cleared my field of view.

Pete slammed the brakes and worked the wheel. We fish-hooked right, stopping in front of the department store, just barely missing a parked van. As we jumped out, a civilian almost collided into me. People were fleeing the area, but the roads and sidewalk were streaked with blood. A dozen civilians were lying on the ground, bleeding.

“Any idea where they’re at?” he asked, shouldering his rifle.

A string of shots split the air.

“Inside!” I replied unnecessarily.

We charged through the front door. I broke off to cover the right while he moved left. More gunfire erupted deeper inside the mall, punctuated by single shots. The shooters had left a trail of broken, bleeding bodies in their wake. Brass shells glittered in pools of blood. Most of the casualties had been shot repeatedly in the torso and then once more in the head.

We tracked the shooters by their gunfire, brass and empty mags. By the destruction they left in their wake. We ran past a shot-up McDonald’s, the customers bleeding and moaning, the golden arches destroyed by a burst of gunfire. Past an electronics shop, everything and everyone inside slagged. Past a schoolgirl, clutching at her bleeding leg, crying for help.

Pete faltered at the last. Halted for a moment. Shook his head and kept running.

This wasn’t our first ride at the rodeo. First neutralize the threat and then tend to the wounded. Reversing the priorities would leave the bad guys free to kill even more, and that would not do.

We’ll be launching a new supernatural Mil-SF book tomorrow, but due to the aforementioned date, the author and I decided that it is time to formally announce that the creative deconvergence project I’d mentioned a few months ago is not only well in the works, but has now entered the editing phase. The first two novels will be published this summer.


An excerpt from FARAWAY WARS: EMBERS OF EMPIRE:


Not a day went by that Vel Exollar didn’t think about the war. His brief, but brilliant career as one of the Insurgency’s ace fighter pilots remained a source of pride to him. But after spending his youth flying from one hidden base to the next in between hit-and-run strikes against supply convoys, shipyards, and imperial weapons installations, he’d been very much enjoying the relative relaxation of life as the captain of Lady Haut-Estas’s private starliner.

Now he marched through his ship’s spotless white corridors, sumptuously carpeted in scarlet. The air smelled of fear, tension, and spilled wine. Flanked by a pair of ensigns as he ordered curious passengers who had ignored the ship-wide order to return to their cabins, Vel was forced to consider the unpleasant possibility that his current employer’s decisions might have spurred his old friends to new violence.

Vel trudged over the plush carpet lining the corridor as if it were a path leading to a gallows. He’d known perfectly well that Lady Jesla’s plan was not without risk. Some might have even called it rash, and once again he asked himself why he’d agreed to it. Had he simply grown restless after playing it safe for so long?


Perhaps she reminds me too much of her mother.

But regardless of whatever had inspired him to roll the dice one more time, the luck that had always sustained him before finally ran out at Koidu. A galaxy cruiser belonging to the Commonwealth had shown up just as what was supposed to have been a harmless demonstration had gone to hell, and now it appeared that even a single misstep could lead to a second civil war throughout the galaxy.

Despite his worries, Vel tried to remain focused on the task at hand. Hiding in Anat’s magnetosphere should buy them some time. The massive spacestorm would render them essentially invisible to the deep space sensors of any ship that might be following them. His priority now was getting Jesla to safety, then scrubbing every trace of her presence on board. He knew there was a science research lab on one of the minor moons that might serve as a temporary safe haven for her until she could be rescued. It would be risky, and it would cost him a ship’s boat as well as two or three of his best crewmen, but it could be done.

Deep willing, we just might pull this off!

A sudden shock that caused the deck to ominously vibrate derailed Vel’s train of thought. The two junior officers burst into action, casting about for threats and shouting demands for status reports into their comms.

The blaring of alarms silenced the men’s voices as wall-mounted warning lights flashed. A man whom Vel recognized as a minor dignitary raced down the intersecting corridor, leading his wife by the hand while carrying their daughter in the crook of his arm.

Vel pressed a hand to his earpiece and subvocalized to the ship’s A.I. on his command channel. “Ship, what was that?”

“Something hit us, Captain, at very low velocity,” the A.I.’s interface construct answered in a pleasant feminine voice. “Nevertheless, hull integrity has been breached.”

“What? Where?”

It wasn’t possible! How could a low-velocity impact breach the ship’s armored hull? The ship’s sensors might have missed some minor orbital trash or even a micro-asteroid in the space storm, but then the impact should have been at least consistent with the ship’s speed.

“Hull breach, Captain. Confirmed. It’s in the cargo hold.”


“Seal the hold! And lock down all security doors, now!”

“Sealing hold, Captain. Security lockdown in progress.”

 A cold spike of dread rushed through Vel’s veins and sent him racing down the hall with the two confused ensigns trailing behind him. He knew it was already too late to get Jesla off the ship. As he ran, he could hear doors slamming down and iris valves sealing themselves shut.

“Ship security, this is the Captain. All squads, arm yourselves immediately and take up positions outside the cargo hold,” he barked into the comm. “We’re being boarded.”

Ebooks sales have declined over the last two years. While Castalia has been growing 100 percent year-on-year for more than six straight months, we have seen our ebook sales decline in April, possibly because we haven’t released anything new in ebook – although John C. Wright’s City Beyond Time is now available in trade paperback.

Britons are abandoning the ebook at an alarming rate with sales of consumer titles down almost a fifth last year, as “screen fatigue” helped fuel a five-year high in printed book sales. Sales of consumer ebooks plunged 17% to £204m last year, the lowest level since 2011 – the year the ebook craze took off as Jeff Bezos’ market-dominating Amazon Kindle took the UK by storm.

It is the second year running that sales of consumer ebooks – the biggest segment of the £538m ebook market, which fell 3% last year – have slumped as commuters, holidaymakers and leisure readers shelve digital editions in favour of good old fashioned print novels.

“I wouldn’t say that the ebook dream is over but people are clearly making decisions on when they want to spend time with their screens,” says Stephen Lotinga, chief exeutive of the Publishers Association, which published its annual yearbook on Thursday.

“There is generally a sense that people are now getting screen tiredness, or fatigue, from so many devices being used, watched or looked at in their week. [Printed] books provide an opportunity to step away from that.”

Sales of consumer ebooks hit a high water mark of £275m in 2014, when they accounted for half of the overall ebook market. The decline in consumer ebooks has been led by a slump in sales of the most popular segment, fiction, which plummeted 16% to £165m last year.

Are we putting out too many books too fast? Are we not putting out enough new books? Is it hatred for Amazon? More than enough Kindle Unlimited? Or are people simply getting tired of reading books on screen? While we’ve seen growth on the print side, it’s not enough to support the theory that people are switching from ebook to print.

This is not a complaint, you understand. We are profoundly grateful for the staunch support we have enjoyed from Castalia House’s readers, and we are striving to improve our catalog as it grows. Not every book is going to be a great one, but I believe that our percentage of “yes, that book was worth reading and I’m glad I read it” is relatively high for the publishing industry.

Anyhow, if you haven’t delved into Selenoth yet, perhaps Didact Reach’s reaction to A Sea of Skulls will convince you to do so:

Having read through your superb new book, A Sea of Skulls, right at the tail end of last year, I found myself left with more than a few questions as to how the overall plot of the Arts of Dark and Light series tied together. And so I went back and re-read A Throne of Bones last week, which I had reviewed back when it was released, to fill in my remaining gaps in memory.

I was truly delighted to find that the first book was actually even better after reading its sequel, four years later. Having finished it off, I went through ASOS again in fairly record time as well, and am now fully convinced that what you have created will stand the test of time as one of the best high-fantasy series ever written. I stand by my opinion that you have surpassed George Rape Rape Martin and left him panting and wheezing in the dust.

Overwrought and excessive praise from a fanboy? Or well-merited approbation? There is really only one way to find out.

Metachronopolis is the golden city beyond time. Ruled by the Masters of Time, who can travel freely throughout the multitudinous time lines of Man’s history, the city is a shining society of heroes and horrors. For the arrogant Masters, who steal famous men and women out of the past and bring them to the eternal city for their amusement, are not only beyond time, but beyond remorse and retribution too.

CITY BEYOND TIME: Tales of the Fall of Metachronopolis is John C. Wright’s mind-bending and astonishingly brilliant take on time travel. Utilizing a centuries-spanning perspective, Wright expertly weaves a larger tale out of a series of smaller ones. Part anthology and part novel, CITY BEYOND TIME is fascinating, melancholy, frightening, and a true masterpiece of story-telling by one of the most important and audacious authors in science fiction today.

John C. Wright is the Dragon Award-winning author of SOMEWHITHER, THE GOLDEN AGE and AWAKE IN THE NIGHT LAND. CITY BEYOND TIME: Tales of the Fall of Metachronopolis is 192 pages and retails for $12.99. From the reviews:

1. This collection of stories is amazing, and, true to form, incredibly deep and convoluted, (although well thought out). The vagaries of time when time travel is a part of the equation, when cause and effect are disassociated from one another, when paradoxes are used and abused by the ruling class is positively mind-bending.
2. There are a lot of time travel books out there, the best and enduring being ones that examine questions of why or how or who. John C Wright has done what I’ve never seen before and examined time travel by “ought”; only with questions far deeper than just “ought you kill baby Hitler?”
3. I would recommend this book to anyone who loves time travel science fiction. It is better then most time travel books that are linear in style and movement. It is by no means predictable and keeps you reading for more.
4. Time travel has been a staple of science fiction for decades, as has the usual paradoxes. But Wright has tried a new twist – the morality of time travel. What is right and wrong when you can go back in time, rerun the past, and create the future? And what horrors can you conceal? Wright tells these stories with an elegant phrasing rarely seen today. Highly recommended.
5. He writes as if Ray Bradbury and G.K. Chesterton stepped into an oddly shimmering portal, fractured the timelines, and produced an amalgamation, bent on one thing and one thing only: to produce engaging and enlightening entertainment disguised as books.