SFFS 27/6/2015 Impcatcher

This is my snippet this week for SFFSat. SFFSat is a place where a number of authors post snippets from their written works, and give the opportunity for comments, support and encouragement. Please also explore the other blogs that are part of this set - you can find the information here.


Today I reveal the first snippet from Impcatcher, the new novel I am in the process of releasing. I haven't yet got a release date, and the cover is still in preparation, but hey, it's progressing! The manuscript is complete and edited - expect to see more about Impcatcher in the next few weeks!

 Without more ado or further explanation, I reveal for your entertainment the first dozen or so lines of the novel.

A high-pitched, manic giggle cut through the velvet blackness of the wine cellar as the echo of breaking glass faded. I took a deep breath, and the alcoholic fumes from the shattered bottle left me feeling light-headed for a moment. I had dropped the lamp when I dodged the missile. Doing this job, there's no way I'd use a modern bound-imp lamp, so I'm stuck with an oil lantern. The glass had not survived the accident, and now the old stone chamber was stygian. A slight clacking sound to my left, like a big rat in tap shoes, hinted at my quarry’s location. It was trusting to the darkness and my lowly human eyes to conceal it. I glowered into the gloom. This had been supposed to be an easy job. Lady Varra had said the tyke was only a recent arrival, a weak little refugee without the experience to be troublesome.

A sudden rattle of movement warned me that said weak little refugee was endeavouring to be thoroughly troublesome.

 Comments welcomed!

SFFS 20/06/2015 Before Sorrel 4

This is my snippet this week for SFFSat. SFFSat is a place where a number of authors post snippets from their written works, and give the opportunity for comments, support and encouragement. Please also explore the other blogs that are part of this set - you can find the information here.


This week's snippet is the last from the old file predating Sorrel. My charter pilot heroine is trying to get her seaplane and her passenger, Alory, off the water and into the air, despite the efforts of a gang of orcs. She has managed to repair the faulty engine, and gets back into the cockpit and starts the engines...

I swung the Duckling around. We had full power, and an aeroplane in reasonably good shape, and relatively clear water. I throttled up… and something slammed into the back of my head. I gasped, trying to keep my grip on the stick. Allory wrenched a dagger from a sheath on his arm and flung himself at the orc in the cabin behind us. Typical noble, weighed down with deadly weapons. Not that I was complaining. I felt sick and dazed, and there were lights dancing in the side of my gaze. I could taste bile rising in my throat. 
 

But there was clear water ahead, now. We were past the rest of the orcs. I increased our speed, angling slightly to give us wide open water to take off. The Duckling was singing along the water, now, moving faster, already starting to lift. I still felt sick and woozy, but clear air and flying speed is a miracle cure for concussion. In my opinion, anyway. 

  As always, comments welcomed! When I was writing this, I had a clear image of the Duckling in mind, mostly courtesy of an old Airfix kit I made. The Duckling was an amphibious two-engined plane based heavily on the Grumman Gosling. It was only when I scrapped this and began work on Sorrel in Scarlet that I chose to have my heroine flying a triplane.

Expect something different next week - the first sequence from my new book, which is well on the way to publication. More news next time!

 

SFFS 13/6/2015 Before Sorrel 3

This is my snippet this week for SFFSat. SFFSat is a place where a number of authors post snippets from their written works, and give the opportunity for comments, support and encouragement. Please also explore the other blogs that are part of this set - you can find the information here.


My snippet this week follows on from last week's sequence. This isn't Sorrel - this is her older sister, metaphorically. She is a charter pilot, on a lake in a jungle, and a gang of orcs are endeavouring to stop her and her passengers taking off. One of the two engines on the flying boat won't start, and she is making a hasty repair...

The orcs were trying to reach us. Some of them were going deeper into the water, struggling to swim out towards us. Most orcs don't swim too well, in my experience. Unfortunately for us, this bunch obviously had a few of the exceptions.

Ignore them, I told myself firmly, and pulled the spanner out from the tool-pouch at my belt. Easy task - no problem - just concentrate. Pipe... nut... injector-valve... sword... Sword? Volging lafquass! The orc's first blow missed - she was trying to pull herself out of the water, left hand on the wing strut, right hand gripping a vicious looking blade. She hacked again, this time connecting with my arm. A leather flying jacket makes pretty good armour, actually, fortunately for my left arm. Not to mention it being a glancing blow. I lashed back at her with the spanner, but she was out of reach. My spanner was only eight inches long - her sword looked more like eight feet long. 

 

 As always, comments welcomed!

SFFS 6/6/15 Before Sorrel part 2

This is my snippet this week for SFFSat. SFFSat is a place where a number of authors post snippets from their written works, and give the opportunity for comments, support and encouragement. Please also explore the other blogs that are part of this set - you can find the information here.


My snippet this week follows on from last week's sequence. This isn't Sorrel - this is her older sister, metaphorically. She is on a lake in a jungle, waiting for her passengers - and she suspects there is trouble approaching.

The port engine spluttered and the prop began to turn. The starboard engine, on the other hand, spluttered and went silent. The Duckling won't get airborne on one prop. I can manoeuvre, if the water isn't too choppy (and this lagoon wasn't too bad), but there wasn't much space. I cursed (I've got a vocabulary that would impress most orcs - not something to be particularly proud of), and yanked the cord of the starboard starter again.

The port engine was running up to speed, the prop spreading growing ripples across the clear blue water of the lagoon, and making the verdant greenery of the jungle rustle as though a thousand chaggers were lurking, ready to pounce. Hmm - not an idea I wanted to think about. Where the volg were my passengers? I had no doubt that they were the cause of the impending trouble. 

The starboard engine coughed, coughed again, and then settled back into slumber. I ran my eyes over the cockpit indicators, trying to remain calm. I had seen movement on the trail down through the jungle. Quite a lot of movement, actually. Not quite a herd of vinbani, but not far off. That had to be my passengers, and whoever was chasing them - most probably orcs - could not be far behind. 

 As always, comments welcomed!