As darkness crept across the high desert, the wind howled up the Chama Valley. By the time Knight darkened the tavern door, the wind switched from the north, carrying flurries foretelling the season’s first storm. 

He swayed as the wind blew out the oil lamps. His glazed eyes swept the room until they fell upon Townsend. The lawman and the aborted search party sat quietly in the tavern, somberly nursing beer and whisky. Stumbling in, he slammed the empty whisky bottle on a table. The railroad agent raised his head and squinted at the wailing drifting from the upper rooms. 

“I take it Amado and his daughter know,” Knight slurred.

Townsend nodded. “I caught ‘em just before he set out for Santa Fe with the search party.” 

“You did everything I asked?”

Townsend nodded again.

“I’m going to bed. There’s killing needs doing come dawn. Wake me before first light.”

With that, Knight stumbled to his room and slammed the door shut. A barmaid closed the tavern door, but not before another slipped in unnoticed from the windswept darkness. 

Knight lay fully clothed, boots on, on top of the sagging mattress. Motionless and eyes closed, he breathed deep and ragged like a passed-out drunk. Townsend and his men’s muffled voices floated down the hallway and mixed with the branches rattling the window.  

Something slinked across the floor in the pitch-black room. 

Alert and cold sober; Knight’s senses were fully engaged. Eyes closed, breathing unchanged, he knew hell shuffled only a few feet from the end of his bed. 

He smelled the cave in the cramped space between the bed and the washstand. 

It’s deciding whether or not I’m really asleep.

Like a spider, the enemy needed to ensure the venom was fully engaged before it wrapped the fly. 

Suddenly, the dark presence seemed to expand. 

The Colt blasted from under Knight’s right leg. In the muzzle flash, Knight saw a man slam against the opposite wall. Knight sprang up and discharged another cartridge where he calculated the body fell. Through the ringing in his ears he heard a groan.

Townsend and his men exploded into the room brandishing guns and lanterns. Through oily gun smoke and dingy light Knight saw the motionless form of Nesbitt Carl against the shattered washstand. ​

("The Cave" concludes tomorrow.) 

In 2011 I sat in a Manhattan publisher’s office pitching my novel to several editors who were supposedly big deals in the publishing business. Everyone at the conference was trying to tie their novels into Game of Thrones, Walking Dead, Breaking Bad, or Ready Player One. My novel? Not so much. 

"Where does your manuscript fit on the book shelves?" they asked.

"Not next to Game of Thrones, Breaking Bad, Walking Dead or Ready Player One," I said. "Its more like Ten Commandments meets The Odyssey." Needless to say, I didn't land a fat publishing contract that week. 

I can’t remember her name, but one publisher from that conference stands out in my memory. All the female authors who were pitching their novel to her were warned not to show too much cleavage in her presence.  I had no cleavage, so I felt confident going in (though I can’t make that claim today).  She listened to my pitch with a dour expression, like she had to pass a kidney stone, and then asked me if my novel (Black Sea Gods) was going to be a series. 

“Three or four novels,” I replied. “The first novel is complete, the second well underway.”

“Too ambitious for a new author,” she scoffed, and summarily dismissed me. And thus ended my attempt to get The Chronicles of Fu Xi traditionally published. 

Every new word added to the Chronicles of Fu Xi, Book IV’s manuscript is a blow against Anti-Cleavage Lady. Take that, mammary hater! Sometimes that moment in New York drives me onward, just to prove her wrong. 

Actually, she was probably right. I should have started my writing career on something a little less ambitious, and a lot more commercially viable. If I wanted a traditional publishing contract, a historical fantasy, set in central Asia, and bordering on literary fiction probably wasn’t the place to start. Not that any of that matters now, I’m committed. The Chronicles of Fu Xi, Book IV is well underway. This story must be told. 

I completed 2000 words this weekend and two more chapters in the can. That brings the word count to 22,000. The writing is coming easier now, and it isn’t. When I write, I have Books I-III open on my desktop, plus The Golden Princess, trying to avoid plot holes. It’s a Herculean effort to keep characters straight, events lined up, and everything in sync.  I think it’s working. I’m back in the groove. Regardless, it's ambitious, to say the least. Anti-Cleavage Lady's warning echoes in my mind. 

One major change came out of this weekend’s efforts…I’ve changed the last novel’s title. It was going to be “The Children of Fu Xi”, but I’ve ditched that. That title was suggested many years ago by an editor, and I kept it in my back pocket. I’m not going to divulge the new title until the publication date approaches. However, it ties the final novel back to the first novel and sounds great. 

That’s all I have for today. I’ve got to keep my energy focused on the writing. However, if you haven’t picked up the series, you really should. There are three ways to start:

First, you can get copy of Black Sea Gods, the first installment in the series, Second, you can buy a copy of the prequel, The Golden Princess. If you really want a treat, get the Audible copy of The Golden Princess, narrated by the BBC’s Philip Battley. You will not regret it, he sounds great. 

I’ll see you later this week for another installment of Photography Phriday. 

***
​
If you enjoyed this blog, please like the post and leave a comment or if you're feeling brave, share it on social media. This platform is my entire advertising budget and is how I share the word on my books. Also visit my Facebook, my author page and check out my photography book from America Through Time, "Abandoned Wiregrass: The Deepest South's Lost and Forgotten Places." ​

#books #blackseagods #writing #philipbattley #audiobooks #epic #fantasy #epicfantasy

All titles by Brian L. Braden are either on sale or free in e-book from now until 15 July. 

the illusion exotic in e-book is FREE through 11 July! This diverse short story collection is a great introduction to the style and prose of Brian L. Braden.

Brian L. Braden presents six tales of souls turning life’s corners. From the Old West, to the edge of space, six people must learn to abandon the illusions that feed their fears, and trust in love, friendship, and their own courage.

The end of the world is bad enough, but its worse when you’re a kid. For little Anant, hope comes in the most unlikely of forms, the voice of Captain James T. Kirk. However, in "Spaceship Name", hope does not come without a price.

In "Green", a young pilot’s courage and fledgling skills are tested to the limit in the pitch black skies above a treacherous battlefield. In one terrifying moment, she will either lead her crew to triumph, or perish.

A former Civil War soldier embarks on a quest on behalf of his former commander. He expects to find outlaws and gunslingers in the high deserts of New Mexico, but instead stumbles upon death incarnate in "The Cave."

After a long day, second grade teacher Margaret Nichols only wants to go home, run a warm bath, and open her wrists. Fate has other plans, however, in the form of a bloodstained Bible and "The Boy in the Hole."

On a Saturday night, high school nerd Mike faces a tough choice: pursue a chance for romance with a popular cheerleader, or hang with Todd, his best friend and notorious loser. What he doesn’t know is his decision will mean life and death, and forever go down in history as the "Incident at the West Flatte Dairy Queen." 

"Carson’s Love" takes the reader into the lives of the Campbells, a family falling apart. Megan and Rob have become so lost in their own lives, they’re about to lose each other. Then, while giving their baby a bath, Rob Campbell makes a startling discovery, and their world suddenly turns upside down.
​

THE GOLDEN PRINCESS is free on e-book through 11 July!  Enter the world of THE CHRONICLES OF FU XI with this stand-alone prequel to this ground-breaking epic fantasy series.

"Escape the City of Gold, or live forever in chains."

Raised in splendid isolation.
Betrothed to a man she despises.
Destined to rule over the greatest city on earth.
She is the Golden Princess.

Sarah dreams of love and adventure beyond her gilded prison, but tonight her dreams come true in the most terrifying way imaginable. A bloody power struggle erupts for the throne, and dawn finds the princess on the run with a bounty on her head. Alone and hunted by guards, criminals and a ruthless slaver who will stop at nothing to burn his brand into her flesh, Sarah must summon courage she never knew she possessed.  

Hope, however, comes in the form of two lowly thieves. Driven by a secret, they race through Hur-ar’s underworld to find Sarah before her enemies do.

Before the next sunset, Sarah’s fate, and that of empires, will be decided with gold, steel and blood.

THE CHRONICLES OF FU XI, Volume 1 and 2 e-books are discounted 9-15 July! 

Semifinalist, 2013 Kindle Book Reviews Sci-Fi/Fantasy Book of the Year! 

The fish have disappeared from the sea. The animals have vanished from the land. All humanity, and even the gods, tremble under the specter of a pending cataclysm. The demigod, Fu Xi, races home from the edge of the world bringing news of a looming god war, but finds his land under attack by monsters he once called his children. He discovers a terrible curse has been cast, one intended to destroy the gods and all life. To his shock, Fu Xi learns that mankind's last hope rests solely on him, a simple fisherman, and a banished slave girl.

Beset on all sides by ancient foes, both immortal and mundane, Fu Xi knows he must act quickly and races west to rescue the saviors. Unaware of the real doom that awaits, Aizarg the fisherman and his party begin a perilous journey across a dangerous steppe. They seek the last of the Narim, the legendary Black Sea Gods, who hold the key to their salvation. Leading them is the rescued slave girl Sarah, the only one among them who knows the path to the land of the god-men.

Over seven days, the defining struggle of gods and humans begins under the onslaught of a powerful force whose true objective and origin remain a mystery. Fu Xi knows the secret to victory resides in the fisherman and the slave girl, whose lives he must protect, even if it means the rest of the world must perish! 

***

If you enjoyed any Graham Hancock's books, you will love BLACK SEA GODS. BLACK SEA GODS transforms recently re-discovered Black Sea legends, possibly the root of all Eurasian mythology, with ancient Chinese mythology to create an unprecedented epic fantasy series.  Find out more about this series at blackseagods.com

“It’s there, in the cliff face on the east side of the river.” Townsend pointed down to a sharp bend in the river about half a mile north of their vantage point on the cliff.

Knight lowered his hat against the naked sun and followed Townsend’s finger to an overhang in the opposite cliff. There, the river had carved out a hollow in the soft yellow clay. In the stark midday shadows, he couldn’t be sure how far it penetrated the cliff. With monsoon season nearly over and the Brazos Mountains snow pack almost gone, the Chama shriveled to a trickle. The challenge would be finding a way down the cliff to the streambed.

“I see it. How do we get down there?”

“The cliff descends in another mile north.”

“Something is moving down there, just south of the cave,” Knight pointed to a dark speck trotting out from the cave’s shadow.

Townsend shielded his eyes from the sun and sat higher in the saddle, wiping sweat from his brow every few minutes. 

“That there’s a cay-yote-aye, maybe a mangy wolf. Hard to tell from here, I didn’t see any sign of a...” Townsend jumped in his saddle as Knight’s Colt thundered inches from his ear.

“SON OF A BITCH! I’m gonna be deaf in that ear for a week, you...”
Ignoring Townsend, Knight calmly replaced the revolver in his holster, and rode through the blue smoke. Townsend rubbed his ringing ear and looked where Knight shot. Far below, the animal lay motionless on the riverbank.

“It had something in its mouth. I want to see it.”

“Jesus Christ,” he mumbled and spurred his horse after Knight.

As Townsend promised, the cliff soon descended to the sandy streambed. Knight stopped just short of the river and trotted back and forth, looking intently at the ground as Townsend caught up.

“Hell of a shot back there. Musta been three hundred yards. Never saw a revolver shot like...”

“What’s east of here?” Knight interrupted, pointing to a wisp of black smoke on the horizon.

“That’s Foreman McGhee’s railhead camp, maybe four miles. The line stays north of the river until it enters the mountains.” Townsend took off his hat and wiped his head with a rag. “Looks like ole’ McGhee’s making good progress all things considered.”

“Answer me this, and answer carefully.” Knight turned and directed his gaze squarely on Townsend. “Have you told anyone what Amado spoke of last night? Does anyone in town, other than you and Amado know of this place?”

Townsend shook his head. “Only the kid from the pueblo and Father Garza.”

“I ain’t worried about the boy. If what Amado told me is true, there isn’t a red skin alive who’ll come near this place.”

Knight galloped about fifty yards downstream and halted, studying the sandy bank. Warily, Townsend trailed a few yards behind. Knight suddenly wheeled about, pulled his gun and pointed it squarely at Townsend.

“The boy, did he accompany you and Amado back to the cave?”
​
Townsend slowly raised his hands. “Hey, I ain’t done nothing to you or any of those poor souls!”

Knight cocked the hammer. “Answer my question.”

“No, he was too afraid. Stayed upstream ‘til we came back fer him.”

“Father Garza...when did he leave you and Amado and head back to the Espanola?” Knight asked.

Townsend looked confused. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s important you answer my question, Mr. Townsend. Otherwise, it’s going to go bad for you.”

“Last night, neither of you told me what happened after you found the cave. Tell me what happened to Father Garza after you left the cave.”

​Sweat poured down Townsend’s face. “He took the boy north, to the pueblo. Don’t rightly know what became of them since. I suspect Garza made his way back to San Marcos.”

“And Wellsby?”

“He went back with us, I know Amado told you as much.”

“We’ll see. Turn around and ride north ahead of me.”

“Are you gunna tell me what the hell’s going on? I ain’t done wrong by you or anyone.”

“Maybe,” Knight replied casually from behind. “There’s what you tell me and what the tracks tell me. I’ll find out soon enough who’s telling the truth.”

They rode several hundred yards north toward the distant railhead, until the terrain flattened and sand gave way to scrub and thistle. He commanded Townsend to stop, but stay on the horse. “Keep your hands were I can see them.”

Knight dismounted and walked through the scrub, once again studying the ground, Colt always pointed in Townsend’s general direction. He bent down and examined the dirt.

“Wellsby vanished, just like that?” Knight inquired.

“It ain’t no damn different than like we told you,” frustration rising in the sheriff’s tone. “We got back just before dark. Wellsby told us to keep quiet and he was gunna wire back to Colorado Springs what we found. He never met us the next morning, like he said he would. Ain’t seen him since. Amado said we should keep quiet until you showed up. That’s the truth, I swear. Hey, if we were lying, why would I bring you up here?”

Knight remounted his horse. “Because this would be a good place to dump the body of an agent of the Denver and Rio Grande Railroad. Now, turn your horse around and ride back to the river.”

Townsend spit. “You planning on killing me?”

“Should I?”

They returned to where the cliffs enclosed both sides of the river. The horses splashed up to their hooves in the muddy water as they rounded the bend and the cave came into view.

“Dismount,” Knight ordered.

The railroad agent dismounted and cut an “X” in the sand with his boot heel next to the stream.

“Stand here. Don’t move until I see if what you and Amado told me is true. Most of what you said lines up with the tracks going in and out of this canyon. If I see tracks newer than two weeks old coming from the south, I’ll know someone lied. And if I don’t find what you described in the cave, I’ll still know someone lied.”

“We weren’t lying, Knight.”

“We’ll see. If you move off that ‘X’ I’ll kill you before you mount your horse, understand? Even if my back is turned, I’ll still hear you. And if I can’t hear you, I’ll smell you. If I find what I should in there, then me and you, we’re okay.”

Townsend remained silent as he tied his horse to a piece of scrub and stood on the X.

“Ain’t you gunna take my gun?”

“If I thought you knew how to use it, I would.”

Townsend’s cheeks turned red. He jerked his hat low and crossed his arms with a huff. 

Knight tied off his horse and crossed the sluggish current, barely getting his boots wet in the process. As he walked down the canyon the cliffs rose higher and the breeze abandoned him to the New Mexico sun.

Overhead, buzzards dragged their shadows over the creature lying next to the stream bed. It turned out to be a mangy coyote with a mottled coat and sore-covered skin. Jutting ribs and bulging eyes spoke of a creature already dying of hunger.  A human femur, partially covered with dried flesh, lay beside its head. He nudged it with his boot, revealing blood-soaked sand under its chest.

Lung shot.

Knight stepped over the coyote, not bothering to look back at Townsend, knowing he hadn’t moved.
​
The cave waited. 
​
***

If you enjoyed that sample, you can read the rest of  The Cave and other short stories in The Illusion Exotic.

Brian L. Braden presents six tales of souls turning life’s corners. From the Old West, to the edge of space, six people must learn to abandon the illusions that feed their fears, and trust in love, friendship, and their own courage.

The end of the world is bad enough, but its worse when you’re a kid. For little Anant, hope comes in the most unlikely of forms, the voice of Captain James T. Kirk. However, in "Spaceship Name", hope does not come without a price.

In "Green", a young pilot’s courage and fledgling skills are tested to the limit in the pitch black skies above a treacherous battlefield. In one terrifying moment, she will either lead her crew to triumph, or perish.

A former Civil War soldier embarks on a quest on behalf of his former commander. He expects to find outlaws and gunslingers in the high deserts of New Mexico, but instead stumbles upon death incarnate in "The Cave."

After a long day, second grade teacher Margaret Nichols only wants to go home, run a warm bath, and open her wrists. Fate has other plans, however, in the form of a bloodstained Bible and "The Boy in the Hole."

On a Saturday night, high school nerd Mike faces a tough choice: pursue a chance for romance with a popular cheerleader, or hang with Todd, his best friend and notorious loser. What he doesn’t know is his decision will mean life and death, and forever go down in history as the "Incident at the West Flatte Dairy Queen." 

"Carson’s Love" takes the reader into the lives of the Campbells, a family falling apart. Megan and Rob have become so lost in their own lives, they’re about to lose each other. Then, while giving their baby a bath, Rob Campbell makes a startling discovery, and their world suddenly turns upside down.

I've finally started on the road to audiobook for both THE GOLDEN PRINCESS and BLACK SEA GODS. I've been hesitant to do so up to this point for several reasons. First of all, I didn't know how it all worked and I naturally fear change. Second, I didn't have the time to figure it out because I naturally fear work. Third, I knew it was likely to be expensive and I naturally fear spending money. 

With the help of government-funded therapy  I've licked the first two hurdles. I've made some time to research the process, and asked the opinions of  some smart people who have travelled this road ahead of me.  I listened carefully to what they said, which was for me to give up writing and  remember what it was like to live again. ​I told them I don't remember the taste of strawberries and they should get bent. 

But I digress.

So...I've chosen a production company and narrowed down the list of potential narrators. By the way, I've also chosen a private jet and a villa in the Swiss Alps for, you know, when all the money starts rolling in. I did, however, run some figures and come up with a basic budget for making an audio book. There is only one small problem...how to pay for it all.

Its good to have a budget.  Its even better to have money. Scratch the villa and the private jet and focus on the audio book and how to pay for it. 

Option 2: Pay with cash from my day job. That money is already budgeted for real-life stuff, like food and kid stuff and air conditioning. Like many authors, I do not have much excess cash to spend on writing. On that note, people often liken writing to having a mistress. I strongly disagree.

Other than being demanding and expensive like a mistress, they have nothing in common. A mistress is  (optimally) sexy, and (usually) a secret.  A mistress should also make you feel better (at least temporarily).

(BTW, what the hell do you call a male version of mistress? A misteress? If a lesbian has a mistress, is she still a mistress?  If a gay man has a mistress, is he a Mister Misteress?)

I digress yet again.

Writing, on he other hand, is just demanding and expensive. 
​
No, writing is less like a mistress and more like an old college buddy who is out of work and staying for "just a few days" until "he can catch a break."  Your spouse knows all about him because he lives on her couch and she hates his guts and keeps asking when he is moving out because its time to move on and he is eating all the food and leaves beer cans all over the floor and scratches himself in from of the kids and the toilet won't flush and where the hell is the cat...

Did I do it again? I did, didn't I? Back to the topic.

Option 3: Sell one of my kidneys. I'm not sure either kidney is working at 100% capacity anymore.

Option 4: Sell one of your kidneys. Wanna go grab a drink? Ah, never mind. It's too much of a hassle to keep all that ice in the motel bathtub. Last time I tried it, my Chinese blackmarket connection said I removed the spleen, not the kidney. I didn't get paid and was out like, 40 bucks for all the ice and whiskey. The incident did, however, convince my  old college buddy to move out. 

Option 5: Crowdfunding. Crowd funding is a great idea for some things, like raising money for legal fees and getting former friends a new spleen. But getting the cash to fund an audio book does not qualify, at least in my mind, as justification to ask people for money, even if I give them something in return, like a slightly used spleen. I make no judgements on others who do so, but for me it feels like begging. ​

Option 6: Hold a telethon. Unfortunately, no one under 40 knows what the hell a telethon is.

Option 9: Lit Funding. Otherwise known as selling enough books to pay for the audio  version. With the exception of all the other options I've listed, this the most realistic avenue to funding my audiobook. I've lit funded a cover or two. I've lit funded a lunch or two. But an audio book is another matter.   

In order to make this happen I have to do some math. Since I don't like public math, I'm going to pull the curtain...I'll be right back. 

(whisper whisper carry the eight whisper whisper seven to the eighth power whisper whisper E equals Eminem squared whisper whisper....)

I'm back. In order to pay for an audio version my latest novel I will have to sell 2,342 ebooks. That's just  a teency weency (pinches fingers centimeter apart for effect) bit more books than I usually sell, like a 2430% increase in monthly sales.  

No problem.

Bottom line, one way or another I'll find a way to finance the audio versions of my novels. Its just going to take patience and a reckless disregard for the law.   In the meantime,  you can help my buying or renting my novels on Amazon. Every little bit helps.  If you've already read them, please rate or review them on Amazon. Believe it or not, the number of reviews on Amazon greatly helps in book sales. If you've already bought and reviewed my novels, please spread the word. 

If you've already done all this, thank you! I can't tell you enough how much I appreciate it. In fact, we should go out for a drink to celebrate. Say, I'm just curious, do you have both kidneys?

***

Brian L. Braden is the author of three fantasy novels: THE GOLDEN PRINCESS, BLACK SEA GODS AND TEARS OF THE DEAD. 

I will be at the Amelia Island Book Festival, Florida this Saturday, 20 Feb. Come on out and meet me, get a copy of one of my books, and find out about my company Underground Book Reviews. 

​Read More Here! 

What does it take to give your novel "shelf appeal"?   In my latest Underground Book Reviews column I discuss cover, synopsis and sample - the three key elements required to get your novel noticed and on its way. 

Here's a excerpt:

Readers have money and time to invest. Authors want readers to invest that money and time in their novel. Ever watch the show Shark Tank? Its kinda like that. You have to convince the reader to take a chance on your story. A novel’s cover, synopsis and first few pages are what seals the deal.

Read the rest on Underground Book Reviews. 

Here's an excerpt from my latest article on Underground Book Reviews.  If you're an indie author, it may be worth your time.