Category Archives: Fantasy

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Inside Idasia: Vashra (Religion, Part 2)

When last we left our insipid heroes…

Wait, wait, I have that all wrong.

What I mean to say is, when last we left our discussion of faith under the banner of Idasian intricacies—humble, god-fearing folk that we are—I spoke of the two most prominent faiths on the face of the continent Marindis: the Visaj, and the reformer Farrens. We talked of rings (cue quips of “one ring to rule them all” and “One does not simply walk into Walmart…” Yes, yes, you’re all very witty, and I know it’s what you were thinking), and war, touched even briefly on the notion of blasphemy.

Which, mind you, is always a fun bit to prod in writing. Everybody has their own notion of blasphemy, after all, and it’s just such a fun word to say. Not as fun as shouting “Burn in righteous fire,” of course, but we can’t all be torch-wielding mobs…

…yet.

Persecution of witches

We humans have had some eh…rather disturbing periods. Persecution of witches. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

But I digress. This week, we continue the religion-minded train of thought with a wheel to the southern heat, where the scorching jungles of all Holy and all mysterious Zutam lie. While faith marks the cornerstone of most medieval cultures, the Zuti are curious even by these standards, for theirs is an Empire governed by the spiritual—and yet, at once, deprived of the fanaticism oft-seen within the boundaries of Marindis.

An area of the Sierre Madre jungle

Hot, wet, and sprawling. Hurrah for the jungle. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The Holy Empire of Zutam, which has come to encompass an entire continent (as a consequence now also called Zutam), and begun to press even into Marindi lands, follows the path of Vashra. They follow no gods, nor do they believe in an afterlife, per say.  Instead they follow spirits—the embodiments of all things, less personalities in their own right and more facets of the world given name. Ancestors, too, are often looked to for advice, or aid—but they are not worshiped. For in Vashra, all creatures are equal in spirit, living or dead. Even Uhnashanti–”the greatest one”– who birthed and protects both man and the world alike, is not heralded as a god; merely a piece of the universe that surrendered his self to give the masses form.

Death, for the Vashran, leads only to a joining of the spirit with the soil. The shackles that form the flesh are removed, and the spirit roams free at last, at peace with those around it. Life, to them, is the teaching, and the learning—the path that allows our minds to open to the fullness of the world. This is the reason life, in their tongue, is called “kujifunza”—learning.

Though they take the emperor of Zutam to be their holiest figure, Vashran do not see him as descended from the gods, or the spirits, or even a god himself, as some cultures might. Rather, the emperor of Zutam is expected to be the most enlightened figure—the guiding light, as it were. He is revered as such. Unfortunately, this also means that for those emperors proven to be reckless, and lecherous, and cruel, there has been plenty of precedent for removal. Historically, this has often enough ended in a fiery coup, culminating in the elimination of much (if not all) of the reigning royal family.

One could never say Zutam is not a turbulent place.

Various sects exist within Vashra, of course, owing to its essentially polytheistic routes. Numerous shrines litter the empire, in fact, dedicated to spirits of fire, and water, or even to the great mother spirit itself—the earth. Though some are more militant than others, as the equality of these sects is preached almost from birth, there are few squabbles between them—though human nature of course makes some conflict inevitable.

Dreamcatcher Español: Atrapasueños elaborado c...

Vashran believe the followers of Visaj, as well as the Farrens (a distinction of religion lost on them, by the way), to be something of misguided children, rather than outright heretics. While their path is no less valid than Vashra itself, it is the methods of its pursuit the Vashran frown upon: the praising of idols, the constant in-fighting, the forcible conversions. Faith as they see it is a matter of the individual—a stark contrast to the Visaji belief in the oneness of society.

If there were any one symbol of the Vashran—beyond the Emperor himself, of course—it would likely be the dream catcher. For the Vashran hold the dream realm above all others—a place where the mind is free to roam, and the spirit is able to break its bonds with the chaining flesh, however temporarily. Dream catchers and the “sterre spice”—a potent drug often used by shamans to induce deep and hypnotic slumbers—are, as such, some of the most spiritual assets at their disposal.

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Inside Idasia: The Magic of Lecura

Magic, as they say, is often the difference between a wild sci-fi adventure, and a fantasy one.

The world of Lecura, in true fantasy form, has its share of the magical, though it’s somewhat different from what you might call “traditional” fare. Of course that’s something of a misnomer, as nearly all the great fantasies have their own unique marks on the magical realm, their own guiding principles and laws that truly lend that awe-striking element to the show (as seen on io9′s fantastic chart).

So what I mean to say is that for The Hollow March and its sequels, magic is not a “normal” affair. For the people and the world of these books, it is not commonplace or widespread knowledge. It is rare, it is scorned, it is terribly self-destructive, and it is bound by one of the most concrete principles of our own world’s precious science.

It is, however, an art learned (in most instances)–not an inherited trait. So let’s learn, shall we?

To begin, the magic of Lecura is based upon the concept of transfer, much as we often credit to alchemy today. Powerful as the stuff may be, matter can neither be created nor destroyed therein—merely manipulated, merely affected.

Take Usuri’s interaction with the overly-affectionate soldier in the opening chapter of The Hollow March. Therein, she puts her lips to the man and twists dark magic upon his very innards.

How?

Well first of all, she had a connection to the man. Skin met skin. Saliva met saliva. From there, it was merely a matter of manipulating that bond. He was the catalyst, and she took the man’s saliva—the very water of him—and simply edited its state, freezing it solid and killing him utterly.

Warning: not party friendly.

See, that whole water into wine thing? Much safer. Also tastier. (Image: Fire campfire by Titus Tscharntke)

In the same vein, I could hurl dirt to the wind and set its bits ablaze. I could take the same dirt in hand, rub its weight upon my skin, and let it color me dark as the mud beneath my feet. In theory, I could even pull a Jesus, and step upon the waves.

So long as I have a connection, I can work change upon it.

But could I kill outright? Could I touch a man and order him to death? The disturbing fact to consider is that yes, yes I could—but to kill outright is somewhat different from mere manipulation. It is a force of will—the forcing of things into their antithetical position: to render being unto death. All the ingredients are there, of course, but it is not so simple a manipulation as others. You cannot take without giving, and as this is rather distinctly a taking, it requires an equal trade to see it done.

Yes, I could kill a man, true, but I would have to sacrifice myself in the process. A life for a death.

See what I meant about alchemy?

That’s why the round-abouts are so important. Take the dirt I set afire. I could cast it on a man and he would die, writhing in flame, without any sacrifice of my own required. Why, you ask? Because it was the fire that killed him. Not me. I did not will him unto death. I set the dirt aflame and the flames burned him down.

Big or small, though, the change requires some fuel for the flame. Though all magic drains the body, the most potent of these works drains the soul as well. As I posited before—to kill a man outright, with touch and breath, would take the same sacrifice of the self. Yet to spark a flame on dirt would also take sacrifice—though at a much lesser extent. A spark for a spark as it were—a few moments’ pain, or a week’s. It all depends upon the size of the action worked.

Once upon a time, the magical of the world would track precisely how many years of their own lives they had shaved off their own lives using themselves as catalyst and ingredient.

Terrifying, and more than a little masochistic, to be sure.

emo/scene

Okay, okay, so sorcerers can probably get a little emo at times. ("emo/scene", Image by Wikipedia)

What makes the art truly terrifying, however, is that one can work it from afar. So long as I possess a piece of a person, or a place, I can work my will upon it, though we could be miles apart.

Perhaps the best way to lend the concept visual in the mind’s eyes would be to compare it to the overly simple western (mis-)interpretation of Voodoo, dolls and all. Say I held a doll. Say I wished to hurt a man with the doll, a hundred miles from my door. Well, the doll in and of itself bears no connection to the man, even if it is a rather fetching likeness. It lacks a ground. Now suppose I had a clutch of the man’s hair. Then, I have a ground, but no focus—unless I wish to ruffle the man’s hair.

In joining the doll and the hair, however, focus meets ground, and the doll becomes a focus for the man. Say I lit the doll aflame then, and focused my will upon that distant soul. He would light up like a Christmas tree.

Yet this process is, of course, also more taxing. As we lack the whole, physical connection, greater bits of the self are often sacrificed to lend weight to the bond, lest it prove too tenuous. Though all magic drains the body, the most potent of these works drains the soul as well.

Once upon a time, the magical of the world would track precisely how many years of their own lives they had shaved off their own lives using themselves as catalyst and ingredient.

This is also why, above all else, caution is key for any sorcerer.

And it’s a trickier lesson to learn than you might think—since most the teachers have long since gone to their good earth.

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Inside Idasia: Politics, Part 1

English: Castle at Tamariz Beach in Estoril, P...

Image care of Wikimedia Commons.

At the center of any good nation is the drama, grandeur, and chaos we call politics. It transcends governmental boundaries. Many of us today have experienced the nonsense and bureaucratic nightmare of what we call democracy in action, but the intricacies of the political shadows have stretched long over monarchies, empires, and theocracies as well, hounding us since the moment first laid down roots and declared: this is how we shall live.

Politics, as central to the human experience, is also key, I believe, to any developed world. So many plot hooks, twists and turns, and dramatic pirouettes of story can come when politics factors into the scene. It sets up new hurdles for adventures, roadblocks for characters, and enemies of the sort that might not be all evil—in fact, they might even think their opposition to what the reader sees as “good” is in turn “good” for what they hope to achieve.

Intricacy. It’s always good to have layers.

Such is the case with the nation of Idasia, in my own little novel world.

Today, we’re talking the empire itself, as well as some of the larger players and wheels of the scene—I’ll discuss more of the greater structure in later posts…

English: Henry (V) the Elder of Brunswick, Cou...

Oil painting by Johann Christian Ludwig Tunica. Image care of Wikimedia Commons.

Idasia, lying at the core of the continent Marindis, is often referred to as the Heartland Empire. While its presence tends to be overshadowed in the modern era by the threat of the continental Zuti empire to the southwest, it remains (and continues to grow as) a political and territorial powerhouse, constantly roving its neighbors’ borders. In certain circles, it is believed to be the “Third Empire,” which is to say, the third incarnation of Vata’Marindis, which the continent’s histories point to as the flower of human culture, if real. Though the royal family that could once trace its lineage back as far has since met with unfortunate ends (those pesky civil wars), the nation continues to cultivate that image.

But what makes Idasia truly unique in terms of politics is the nature of its imperial status. Though the Emperor wields utter political power over the state-at-large, the barest shreds of a republic can be seen lurking in the shadows of his death. Seven men, in a hereditary grant, are given the sole authority to choose the emperor. Known as the Altengarde, or the electors’ council, these men have the right to deny the passing Emperor’s own choice in a successor…though tradition does tend to dictate the title stay within the hereditary royal family.

It does, however, leave the door open for evading some truly nasty individuals…or at least the ones that don’t know how to play the game right and proper.

Custom dictates the Altengarde consists of the Dukes of Dexet, Wassein, and Sorbia, as well as the Count Palatines of Usteroy, Berundy, Fritensia, and Varstein—all imperial provinces in their own right. While the Dukes are essentially second only to the royal family itself in power, years ago the rank of Count Palatine was established in the noble hierarchy to give the royal family a greater ability to balance out that power. The palatines, as such, are answerable solely to the crown, and theoretically act in their interest, whereas all other nobles answer to imperial, as well as Ducal decree depending on where their particular realms lie.

The council itself was established to “thin the blood,” as it were, and evade the uncertainty that comes with traditional passage of power to the eldest son. The hope has always been that they would pick the best man for the job.

Sometimes it’s even true.

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E-Book Versions of The Hollow March live!

Well it’s no longer a tick-down, it’s a reality. For the technocrats among you – e-Readers or computer-based literati – I’m working to break any feelings of a snow-induced lock-down around your house with a new world ripe for the exploration. Best part? You don’t even have to get out of the chair. Well, if you don’t want to.

Brave the winter of The Hollow March – my new fantasy novel, now available on both Kindle and Smashwords for just $2.99. Years in realizing, it’s like an avenging wind of fresh air to finally see it given form. It’s also the fulfillment of dreams had since childhood and all that, so if I start waxing philosophic at any point, there’s your reason. Print editions will also eventually be available on Amazon, but it seems their processing times are a bit of a slow churn. Meanwhile, if you really want to get your hands on a solid, physical copy, you can breathe it in direct from Createspace, at: https://www.createspace.com/3739898. Like most print-related goodies, though, that classic paper smell does cost a bit extra.

In honor of the occasion, I’ve also launched a new home for the book on the classic social media heartland of the internet empire: Facebook. Want to show your support? Like us there!

Meanwhile, it’s time to get my head briefly out of the creative stars and slap it down into the all-too-real world of marketing. I think it’s how they keep writers from getting their heads too inflated. But c’est la vie, for it is an important part of the journey – and I thank you all for sharing it with me. Your support has meant the world.

Still uncertain? Well don’t forget to check out the full chapter preview for a good feel of things.

Also, a notable addition for those international would-be readers – the Kindle link above is to the U.S. version of the book. If you would like the link to your own country’s version, feel free to shoot me an e-mail at: “shadowedwolfe (@) gmail.com.” Or comment here, I suppose, per your fancy!

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The Great Fantasy Extravaganza!

Just a matter of hours now until we bid old November its final farewell and roll out the rugs for sweet, icy December. You know, the season of giving. Also gravel—gravel that will probably demand a new windshield out of my car at some point. A windshield that will cost money…(see economic rant to come)

But hey, we’re not talking the real world here today. We’re just borrowing its sense of giving for a healthy dose of fantasy.

As you may have seen earlier this week, Monday is the big day on my mind. In less than one week now my first novel, The Hollow March, will finally launch just in time for the holiday season. As such, I think the lot of us need to have a little sit down and chat. Oh, don’t look at me like that—it’s not a scolding. No—we’re going to be talking loose ends.

Over the past few weeks, I’ve ruminated on geography, covers, and even slapped up a full chapter preview of the book’s first chapter. While I gave you a look at the landscape, though, I never showed you a final copy of the land I’m going to be spending a great deal of my future writing on: Idasia.

Well, there she is, fellows. The Empire of Idasia. The central focus of The Hollow March. A nation of plains and forests, of feudal values, and an unfortunately large appetite. Not for food, of course—that would be silly. Idasia has plenty of food pouring out of its farms and ranches that abound from north to south. No, its hunger is for land, for trade, and for prestige—a combination deadly to its neighbors.

Deadly, I say.

On this map, crafted by the talented hand of my good friend Nathan Hartley, you can spy the opening setting of the novel proper: the Ulneberg forest. From an overlook above the lumber town of Verdan—the home of the Matair family nestled along the first bend of the River Jurree—that setting will shift gradually northward, through the ancient forest. From there, it will spill out onto the plains between the Ulneberg and the Hanschleig, and continue to the easternmost border of the Empire and beyond.

Yet that is not all you’ll see of Idasia. A myriad of eyes will carry you to a castle in the Split Tooth Valley, to the great plains of the nation’s central expanse, and to the sprawling war camps Idasia’s armies now call home.

(The prologue, featured previously, actually centers a good deal deeper inside Idasia’s borders, in the castle of a nobleman who shall as yet remain nameless. This location will also form a recurring counter-scene to the journeys of our forest-borne troop).

Though the journeys are already written in stone, I tell you the faces and personalities of the people therein are still drumming through my skull. I dare say they can’t wait to get out into the world—and given the way I’ve already started plugging through the sequel, I’d say they’re getting their wish.

As to the land…well, it’s one that’s been crafted in my mind over the course of years. Long years (never mind the irony of a youngling like myself saying that). Painful years. Fortunately, the history and geography buff in me got a real kick out of the whole process—from landscapes to politics, from religions to cultures, there was not one facet of this world I did not love to forge.

Well, except where money’s involved. Economics, I tell you now, is the bane of me. Gives you an appreciation for why you see so many go for the simple, classic “gold, silver, copper” model, henceforth referred to as “DnDing it up.” And don’t tell me I’m wrong to title it that. I point my finger at you. I know who you are.

Yes, those are probably the looks I'll get.

Bonus? The next party I go to, I get to tell people I’ve researched medieval monetary theory. Oh yes. I expect many applause. Or blank stares. Either way—I’ll feel shiny.

But my point is, I sincerely hope that all comes across well in the work, and helps it breathe as beautifully for you, as it has for this little author. Minus the feelings on all things monetary, of course.

As for what lies ahead, well…next week will be all about the book launch, but after that, expect a new feature called “Inside Idasia,” where I’ll be belting out a few more details of this troubled little land.

With that, though, I bid you all a fine day, and I hope to see you at the launch!

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