Neverworld: Lenore's Desk

Lenore Caskill had long since given up on ever leaving her desk. She enjoyed her work, and prided herself on being uniquely suited to it. Plus, she was the head secretary for the Chief of Operations, Derek Bond, and she liked her boss and was absolutely loyal to Telomere Industries. 

She hadn't been rooted here forever, she remembered. There was time when she'd moved around, gone outside, done other things. She didn't remember much about it, but she didn't miss it. Life had been more complicated then. Working here had shaped her, remade her, given her purpose after... whatever it was that had happened. 

She kept track of Chief Bond's calendar, sent him reminders when he needed them, and followed the online gossip when she wasn't busy. The city was well-run and orderly; she'd had an apartment out there somewhere, but everything she really needed was here in the office. It was better to just remain here: more convenient than commuting, more sustaining than having to cook and clean for herself, and safer. 

Telomere Industries would take care of her. Telomere Industries always had. Her life had only really begun when she came to work here; everything before that was a disappointment, better forgotten. 

And now her boss had a Prospect, and he'd asked her to set up an interview for him! Sure, Chief Bond would get the credit for bringing in someone with potential, but Lenore was a vital part of that process and proud of her role in it. This was going to be a very good day. 

Azzizazz: Fungus Rat King

"Lightning's not gonna work too good," said the Gith in the linen suit. 

Aziz looked at him, but Mac had his head slightly tilted. Feeling the monster out with his mind. 

There were some, no doubt, who would count Aziz as a monster as well. He was a dragon, after all, and he'd given up on trying to pass himself off as a human some time back. But the druid was a halfling, the paladin was a centaur and thus his own special mount, their explosives specialist was an Efreet, and the thing they were facing was a giant, monstrous amalgamation of purplish fungus and warped, infect rats. 

Aziz had really been hoping to blast it with lighting. Even now, after they'd worked out magical protections to keep from getting infected, he really didn't want to touch it. But lightning breath and a couple of low-level spells aside, he didn't have a lot of other options. 

This spell better work, he thought, and launched himself into the air. 

It wasn't what one might consider an elegant, dignified attack. He slammed into their opponent like an angry cat, clawing and tearing and hissing and spitting, buffeting it with the points of his wings. Adonis the paladin was attacking with his spiked chain, and Zaratas the Efreet was busy finding out that fire didn't work much better than lightning would have; it was simply too damp down here. 

They kept at it, and Aziz felt the moment the abomination came apart under his claws. He fell back, spitting and brushing at his tongue. Gods, he was going to have nightmares about the way that thing had tasted. 

Mac handed him a flask of water and said, "Good job, lad," and Aziz sagged. 

They'd done it. Somehow, they'd done it. And he didn't feel the tingling of the abyssal fungus' poison on his skin or in his mouth, so the protection spell worked. Which meant he could fight these things if he needed to. 

He had a feeling they'd need to. 

Blackhand: A Perfectly Ordinary Lunch

Mike -- Blackhand -- sat down at the table and looked at the girl across from him. "Do you mind telling me what you can do?" he asked. 

Robin smiled. "Oh, that's easy: I move air around. I think Ms. Salvatore classified it as low-level weather control."

Well, that doesn't sound too dangerous... Mike smiled back. It was easy to smile at Robin. "How much can you do it? I mean, could you use it to fly, or...?"

Robin was already shaking her head. "Push a door shut, blow some papers off a table, maybe knock over somebody's glass if I really tried. Nothing fit for the teams, or for support work. I can make my hair billow dramatically, but that's about it."

"Huh," Mike said, thinking that over. 

"Are you disappointed?" she asked. 

He shook his head slowly, still lost in thought. "No. I'm thinking that might be better than what I got, in some ways. You can't hurt people with it, accidentally or on purpose. It's just enough to be interesting, not enough to put you at risk."

"Really?" she asked, brightening. 

"Really," he told her. "I got recruited for the Hounds when I was... eleven or twelve? They wanted me because I could spot other D-- Anomalies, and because I could use my power for violence. And the result of that was, well... when it really came down to violence, I barely survived Harbinger."

Robin shivered. "I've heard about him. Scary stuff."

"Scary?" asked Mike. 

Robin watched him, and after a moment he admitted: "Maybe." He sighed. "But I can't help thinking that we brought that on ourselves. If the Program hadn't kidnapped him and most of his team, if the Alpha Hound called Mongrel hadn't deliberately picked a fight, he wouldn't be a mass-murderer."

Robin studied him for a long moment. "You... you like him?"

Mike shrugged. "I don't know about that. I know he let me live, along with two others, and I know he's been trying to make up for killing our Hunters." He hesitated. "You know how that works, right?"

"One Hunter, One Hound," Robin recited. "Yeah, there were a couple of emailed announcements."

Mike nodded, looking around the cafeteria for a long moment. "Let's just say I don't hate him. I can't, at this point. He set me to work on my powers with Jade, and she... she offered me a place on Team Phoenix."

Robin studied him for a long moment. "Are you going to take it?"

He sniffed. "After she pounded the shit out of me, and forced me to do things with my powers that I didn't know I was capable of?" He hesitated again. "Maybe. I'm thinking about it."

Robin reached across the table, touched his hand gently. "If it helps any, I hope you do. I'd... kind of like to have you around." 

Valthor: A Sister Unrecognized

I should have known, he thought. It wasn't just that the elvish wizard had abandoned her plans for escape to go after him instead, it was way she'd done it: slipping into the same style of Bladesinging that his mother had practiced. Likely the woman hadn't even been a half-sister, but rather a full sister that he hadn't known about. One which either his mother or his father had been holding in reserve. My mother, most likely, he decided. 

It would have been nice to have her as an ally, but clearly that hadn't been in the cards. And her blade... the scimitar was cursed, as Sy had made clear. The rapier, though... 

He pulled on his gloves, then took a handful of his cloak in his hand for good measure. Careful not to touch the weapon itself, he slid it back into its sheath and picked the whole thing up. He needed a box, to lock it away until someone could take a look and tell him whether or not the thing was safe to add to his own arsenal. For the moment, he could likely tuck it away in his locker.

The blades were another indication that this sister was one of their mother's tools. Their father hadn't sent his children out with anything more than minimal equipment, but these blades could easily be their mother's work. If she had held his sister back, trained her, equipped her... 

Oh, she's going to be furious if she ever finds out about this... 

Writing Process and Progress

You know, if there's one thing that I really needed to do -- now, while I've got two book-length writing projects in progress -- it's start on a third such project. But one of my favorite authors, Lilith Saintcrow, has a third Underdark book in the works, and that got me to thinking about how I might approach a similar format.

The Tales of the Underdark books aren't a series in the usual sense of the word. Instead, they're a collection of variations on a theme, with a woman who finds herself thrust into a strange but half-familiar world and forced to navigate unexpected dangers, unlikely allies and possible betrayers, and doubts about her own sanity. 

I'd like to try my own hand at this. It won't be set in the same world, of course, because the Underdark books aren't set in a single world. It will be a portal fantasy, and my protagonist will be male -- not because he has to be, but because that's the variation I'd like to introduce and (if we're being completely honest here) because I'm liking the fantasy of taking a mortal man of my age and giving him the chance to return to physical youth, forgotten skills, and magic. 

I also like the elements of Horror inherent in a setup like this: can you trust your own perceptions? Can you escape the things that are hunting you? How do you figure out who to trust? And, from an author's perspective, just how weird and terrifying can I make this world?

I don't write a lot of pure horror, and this book won't be that. But it will be a nice chance to wade out into those waters. 

Gunslinger's End

Duncan Dakota felt his horse shiver, and dismounted just before the beast keeled over and died. He wasn't entirely surprised; the horse was stolen, and he'd been driving the beast hard into the canyons, trying to shake the posse off his back. Maybe he shouldn't have gunned down that sheriff, but if the man didn't want a bullet in his pate he shouldn't have asked for Duncan's gun. Who'd've known a sheriff would have friends?

He took a few minutes to check the saddle, and came up with a half-full waterskin, a blanket, and not much else. Cursing the dead beast's owner under his breath, he rose...

A stone clicked against another stone, and Duncan spun. His pistol cleared leather, and he was ready to go down shooting, but...

He froze. 

The thing in front of him was near to his own size, shorter but wider, hairless and pale. Its features were half-formed, almost melted, and it blinked strange, orange eyes at him. Then it flowed forward. Duncan squeezed off a single shot, but by then it was too late. He fell back, screaming, as it surrounded him and overwhelmed his flesh, pouring in through mouth and nose and ears. 

Duncan Dakota stirred on the sands of the canyon floor, then sat up slowly. He climbed clumsily to his feet, then looked himself over. "Oh yes," he said, tasting his new language, his new understanding. "You'll do nicely." 

Dreams: The Empty Archipelago

Slept hard the night after we got back, and had one of those bizarrely lucid dreams that I sometimes do. I'm probably the better for it; these sorts of dreams tend to come along when I'm shaking something off. 

I'd been in an airplane, and we'd made an emergency landing on a stretch of road on an island. No idea where; the dream started after we'd landed, so we didn't get any dramatic speeches from the pilot or anything. I just came into the dream knowing that the plane was down, that it had landed safely but we didn't have any way to get it back up. Most of the passengers decided to stay put and wait for help, but I went exploring instead. 

So: island, tropical, built out but strangely empty. There were roads, sidewalks, buildings, a lighthouse off in the distance. No people, though. There was another island nearby, that looked close enough to swim to; I headed down a wooden walkway that went off in that direction. A few of the other passengers filtered out after me. 

The boardwalk ended in small, avant-guard museum, which was unlocked but uninhabited. I had a flashlight on me, so we made our way through to the back rooms, which had table holding massive vegetables -- like, a squash the size of my chest. Reassured that we wouldn't starve if things like this grew around here, I found the back door, and... 

Came out into a room with people in it. They didn't seem surprised by our appearance, or even very interested in it, but they answered questions. No, they didn't really know how they got here. No, they didn't know any way back. Yes, there was food and water -- I wasn't sure if they grew it, or if it just somehow appeared from time to time. As far as I could tell, they'd established routines and were content where they were. 

I meant to move further in, to see if I could figure out what was going on here, but I woke up before I could get any further.