My hexarchate books, now called the Machineries of Empire, have been acquired by Solaris Books [The Bookseller]. The first volume, Ninefox Gambit, is due out in June 2016.
Cover reveal and synopsis [SF Signal]. Cover art by Chris Moore.
My fairy tale/flash fiction collection The Fox’s Tower and Other Tales is now available in ebook format from the following places:
If you’d like a taste, most of the stories are (and will remain) freely available in the flashfic section of this site. However, there are four all-new stories and an introduction. If you’d like to show your support, please consider purchasing a copy or spreading the word!
Cover art by the talented Mariya Olshevska.
I now have a page up on Patreon. For those who haven’t heard of this before, it’s crowdfunding, but on a monthly basis for continuing support, rather than one-offs like most Kickstarters. In my case, I’m raising additional money for writing and other creative projects (music, art).
You can support at any level from $1 on up, and the site will charge you monthly. There are a few backer awards at various levels of support (two slots left for monthly writing critiques!), and I’m definitely open to hearing suggestions for other awards (you can reach me by email at email@example.com).
As a bonus, all patrons have patron-only sneak peeks at snippets of works in progress.
If you’d like to help out, please take a look, and thank you!
At Kel Academy, an instructor had explained to Cheris’s class that the threshold winnower was a weapon of last resort, and not just for its notorious connotations. Said instructor had once witnessed a winnower in use. The detail that stuck in Cheris’s head wasn’t the part where every door in the besieged city exhaled radiation that baked the inhabitants dead. It wasn’t the weapon’s governing equations or even the instructor’s left eye, damaged during the attack, from which ghostlight glimmered.
What Cheris remembered most was the instructor’s aside: that returning to corpses that were only corpses, rather than radiation gates contorted against black-blasted walls and glassy rubble, eyes ruptured open, was one of the best moments of her life.
Five years, five months, and sixteen days later, surrounded by smashed tanks and smoking pits on the heretic Eels’ outpost world of Dredge, Captain Kel Cheris of Heron Company, 109-229th Battalion, had come to the conclusion that her instructor was full of shit.