Tool

Tool has been published by Nevermet Press. It can be found online at nevermetpress.com and will be appearing at year's end in the print anthology Stories in the Ether.

The original artwork included with the story (and pictured here) was done by J. Lonnee and is actually based on a key scene in the short story.

The editorial staff at Nevermet Press have been doing a wonderful job. Their anthology promises to be a good one. I'm thrilled to be a part of it, and very happy to have found another home for Tool. As I mentioned, this is the second story featuring Tool I've had published (the first being Withered Souls). This particular story was intended as the first in a sequence. I am currently polishing the final draft on a second chapter that will take Tool from The Hollow of the Hand to The City of the Dreaming Spires and another strange encounter with the Awakened, the Sleeping Gods, a very proper demon named Spindle, and the man responsible for his current predicament. I hope to have it submitted (and if all goes well) published in the near future. Until then, here is another sample from Tool.

Patience leaned forward and kissed him again. Her lips felt warm and moist against his unshaven cheek. After she left the room he stood and stepped onto the balcony. From there he could watch the river wander down from the mountains into the Kaf Valley, the region aboriginals called the Hollow of the Hand. On clear days Tool could see the shadows of the skiffs and fisher boats rippling on the river bottom. During high tide barges laden with salt were sent upriver to distant ports like Copan and Rid. During low tide the kites and gulls filled the mud flats, feasting on the unfamiliar flora and fauna surrendered by the ancient river.

“Has she left?”

Tool turned and looked at Azar. Her dark skin swallowed the late morning sun, but her smile reflected its warmth. He pulled her into his arms and laughed. “You were jealous.”

“I was not.”

“Yes, you were jealous. You, a goddess, were jealous of my old friend Patience.”

“You find it funny?”

“I find it impossible to believe,” he replied. He kissed her.

“I am not a goddess,” she whispered. “I simply serve one.”

Tool looked west across the battered rooftops. He saw the countless regiments of the Seven Kingdoms rolling like waves across the valley floor. He watched the stonewight trebuchets launch leprous corpses into the war-weary city, flailing streaks of flesh and bone that showered the ancient streets and courtyards of the Old Quarter. The city would never survive a sustained siege. If Patience was right and Atenkhanu had crossed the border in order to break the siege, open war would exist between the Khashani-Oru and the Seven Kingdoms. The world would inevitably be drawn into any conflict between its two greatest empires. The din of war would be deafening.