Tag: Selenoth

Hark! What’s that you hear? We submitted the hardcover edition of A SEA OF SKULLS to the printer last night. I’ll review them next week, and assuming they pass muster, we’ll release it into the distribution system. You’ll be able to purchase them from directly NDM Express, of course, as well as from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and your local bookseller. At 299,434 words, it’s a slightly longer book than ATOB in terms of word count, although with the much more efficient layout program we have now, it only clocks in at 760 pages. We do plan to do a revised version of ATOB so that the interior styles will match more precisely, but probably not for a month or two.

DISCUSS ON SG

FJOTRA

Fjotra did not object, in principle, to learning about the gods of her new people. She had known from the time her father, the Skullbreaker, sent her to marry the heir to the southern kingdom, that she would have to learn many different new ways. The language was different, but she was young enough to learn it without difficulty. The food was considerably more abundant and flavorful, and her palate did not take long to adapt to the various meats and breads and sauces that were much to be preferred to the salted fish and charred game of her home islands. The clothing was lighter and more comfortable, and she adored wearing silk and cotton dresses in the place of the crude leather and canvas clothes that had been worn by Dalarn women since the coming of the Aalvarg had made raising sheep for wool and growing flax for linen impossible. Even the weather was much more gentle than it customarily was in the windswept Wolf Isles.

But despite the best efforts of Father Francois, who took great pains to talk her through the nonsense, she could make neither heads nor tails about the gods of the southerners. They worshipped a god who was both dead and alive, who was both father to himself and son to himself, and also took on a third form that was nevertheless the same as the other two. It wasn’t that the idea a god had different forms was foreign to her; the Aldaföðr had a hundred names, from Arnhöfði to Völundrómu, and each name represented a different aspect of her people’s greatest god. But despite his many aspects, he was merely the first among a host of gods, and Fjotra particularly venerated Valfreyja, the beautiful goddess who was queen of the Choosers of the Slain.

Continue reading “The Sound of a Sea”

This is a previously unreleased excerpt from the newly released full edition of A SEA OF SKULLS, which is now available in an ebook edition at the Arkhaven store.

Lugbol growled and slapped at one of the forest’s infernal insects that was busily engaged in biting his left bicep. He crushed it under his horny palm, felt a pop, and looked down to see he’d smeared his own dark green blood along with the remnants of the bug that had bitten him across his upper arm. He shook his head, knowing that the bite was going to start itching momentarily, then slapped fruitlessly at another one that had just bitten his calf.
“I don’t remember them being this bad before,” he complained.
“They had all the dead to feed on then,” Ghurash replied. Even though it had been less than three weeks since they’d fled the dark shadows of the Korokhurmagh, already the denizens of the forest had all but picked the thousands of dead bodies clean of flesh. They were rapidly approaching the western edge of the great wood and soon they would be encroaching on the true Man lands, not merely the pillaging the small villages and hamlets that had been carved out of the trees by the lesser tribes and clans.
The Hagahorn’ugh had been cocky and full of contempt for the martial abilities of the Szavon’agh as they passed through the burned-out remains of the villages overrun by Zlatagh’s army, but they gradually fell silent and their mood turned grim as they began to come across one large-skulled, thick-boned skeleton after another. There were few Man skeletons, and the bones of those they encountered were eagerly snatched up and divided among sqwaaks and younger kors seeking clubs or remains to decorate their armor.
More than a dozen fights broke out over the Man bones, the worst of which began when a boar rider commandeered a large thigh bone another kor had intended for a club, then cracked it open and sucked out the marrow. By the time Lugbol and Karnuhg, one of the cavalry grun-kors, managed to put a stop to the fracas, four mountain orcs and two Black Fists were dead, and another Hagahornu was so badly wounded that he ended up in the cookpot that evening.
The kral chewed him out for the needless death of his orcs, of course, but Lugbol had the sneaking suspicion that the older orc was secretly impressed at how Lugbol’s veteran kors managed to more than hold their own against the bigger mountain orcs. In fact, knowing that Lugbol, being Goghu and half the size of his Hagahornu officers, could never pose a threat to his rule, Nekheru had proven increasingly inclined to give his new hadvezer more responsibilities as they marched through the forest toward the Man lands. In addition to commanding the light infantry and the goblin cavalry, Lugbol was now serving as the liason between the farkh’agh and the various shugaba’ugh and grun-kors whose kors had the annoying habit of feasting upon their fellow marching companions whenever they couldn’t find adequate meat to sate their appetites.
Two large goblins, wearing the ornate headgear favored by their shugaba’agh, approached him now, escorted by a nervous-looking bodyguard of twelve lightly-armored yellowskins carrying pikes. Lugbol groaned. Given the angry expressions on their hook-chinned, hook-nosed faces, he had a pretty good idea of why they were coming to see him, even though they were attached to units outside his command.

Continue reading “Orcs in the Korokhurmagh”