Weird Ales 3: Last Orders, an inebriating anthology from Theresa Derwin and Lynne M. Cochrane, is now available in paperback. Besides luminaries such as Gav Thorpe, it also includes a nasty little story by me. “Tenebrae Dark” sees a corporate headhunter find more than he bargained for in his search for the secret of the eponymous drink.
It’s a fairly quick little story, and one I wrote almost a decade ago. What can I say – sometimes it takes a ridiculously long time to find the right market for a given work.
Last week was the first of the month, and that means there’s a new short story available on my Patreon page. “Cemetery Gun” is a guns and sorcery tale of the decaying city-empire of Ossuary, and the warriors who guard its dead. The gunman known as Beckford is on the third night of his vigil, but treachery and scavenging ghuls may see him interred in the very mausoleum he’s protecting.
If that sounds like something you’d be interested in reading, head over to my Patreon page, pledge a dollar, and check it, as well as the rest of the short stories, out.
Tzekmek, Great Changer of the Barrowflock, shrilled curses as a pervasive, sugar-sweet scent permeated the air of the fens. With the guardians of the dead in disarray, and the Wickenmotte in flames, the magics of the marsh barrows had been theirs for the taking.
But even as the Tzaangor warflock had moved to plunder the ancient ruins, their celebrations were interrupted by the skirl of strange pipes and joyful, inhuman shrieks. The air had taken on an oily sheen the shaman recognised all too well…the veil was drawn thin, and something had issued forth from the realms beyond sensation.
Now, gaunt, glistening shapes loped through the mists and hunched trees, their abominable laughter tainting the very air. Daemons, but not those loyal to the Feathered Lords. Rather, these served the Great Schemer’s lost sibling, Slaanesh. And with the way so generously cleared of opposition by the Tzaangor, they had come to claim the magics of the barrows for themselves.
Perhaps they thought the charnel grounds held some secret which would return their lost god to them. Perhaps they were simply scavengers. Either way, they could not be allowed to plunder Tzekmek’s hard-won spoils of war.
Things proceed apace, as they are wont to do in this life. Words pile up, paragraph by paragraph, page by page, and it never seems to be enough. Worse, they never seem quite right. But still, things proceed. There’s probably a lesson there, but…eh. (more…)