joshua robertson

Short Read: Dark Fantasy Prelude

Feb 22, 2019 | Book Launches

Dark fantasy at its best! Joshua Robertson‘s latest release, “The Skincutter’s Daughter“, is a
fast read full of unique concepts that will leave you wanting more. Luckily, there are a few books coming!

Madness Never Cut So Deep.

Adela’s first memory was of her father sliding a blade across his forearm, while her mother sobbed and begged him to stop his madness. The cuts were never deep enough to cause permanent injury, but his blood flowed and the scars deepened, forever adorning his craggy skin. For years, Adela hid among the shadows watching him, never quite understanding his obsession. Now, when an old enemy of her parents resurfaces and threatens their welfare, the madness of her father might indefinitely become her own.

Excerpt 1

A woman, unlike any Branimir had ever seen, emerged from the crowd and occupied the remaining chair. The bow slung over her shoulder, and the quiver on her back were the last things Branimir noticed. She was shorter than most Anshedar with an oversized head, a scrawny neck, and a sickly, thin frame. Yet her skin, smooth and colored a reddish brown, darker than Branimir, caused him to lean toward her. A sash, red as blood, hung DyndaerCover across her shoulder, angled over her small chest.

She sat with her back stiffened and chin jutted forward. Pushing long black strands behind her ears, she introduced herself, “Hanna Bretka, daughter of Briv, from Danduher in Haemus Mons.” She sloshed her mug onto the table after taking a gulp.

“Branimir and Dorofej,” Bran said, “And, excuse my asking, but what are you?”

Her eyes swelled like an owl, a circular black center and the rest filled with a cerulean orb. The colored ring twinkled like the Ojenek in his pocket. “What do you mean what am I?”

Adamus and Dorofej merged in laughter.

“Kras,” she said, “I am a Lilitu. How would you not know my kind? The Kras frequent trade with the Lilitu in Halderon.”

Branimir rubbed the back of his neck with a crooked smile, and meekly shrugged. He could not take his eyes off of her.

“What are you?” Adamus repeated, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “Best thing I have heard in two months. Having you travel with me never tires, Hanna.”

“Glad to please you, Adamus,” Hanna muttered, rolling his name off her tongue. “Is this why we detoured to Cavell? I thought we were aiming for debauchery, not expanding on our alleged friendship.”

Excerpt 2

“You told me that I would never find joy,” Branimir went on. “I can’t help but think the rune staves might be right, mainly when I think of these past several weeks.”

“Oh.” Dorofej shuffled out from the shadows, rejoining them near the fire. He appeared disgruntled, despite his words. “We have shared pleasant times together, yes? I say, do not sum up all arduous times to be grievous.”

“I was only telling you what I was seeing,” Drak explained. “I did not mean anything by it.”

“All the same, your words have stayed with me,” said Branimir, scooting over to make room for Dorofej.

“I say, Hanna did warn us that we may create our own future by thinking that we know what to expect, yes? Emotions can create your reality if you are not careful,” Dorofej softened his gaze.

Drak sniffed through his nose. “The rune staves tell what will happen. Branimir cannot change it, no matter how he feels about it.”

Dorofej furrowed his brow. “Know that for certain, we do not. Regardless, whether our paths are fixed or not, we choose how we walk them. Dangerous, it is, to find comfort in sadness. Leads only to more sadness, it does.”

“I like that thought,” Drak granted, and then grinned wide. “Feelings are unseen and untouched by anyone or anything. Fate cannot tell you how to feel.”

Branimir held his face, pondering the wisdom of the two. “Telling yourself how to feel seems easier to think about than to do.”

“Such is the task of the living, yes? I say, our minds are riddled with grand ideas and limited enthusiasm to see it done. Driven towards the things we wish to avoid, men are. Drink, does the drunkard; fight, does the warrior; and on and on, it goes.”

“Is it not what they want?” Branimir asked.

Dorofej lifted his eyebrows, “What do you want, Branimir?”

“I want…” Branimir may have never thought about the question before. He had always been entertained with trying to survive, the question of what to live for was beyond his knowing. Yet, upon taking a moment to think, the answer was not hard to come by. “I want happiness, Dorofej.”

Excerpt 3

The demons of the Netherworld chased him. Four-legged, wolf-like creatures, known as Dreka, rammed their goat horns at Branimir. The gray, wrinkled skin clung to their gaunt frames. Thin lips were stretched back giving sight to the rows of teeth on the tops and bottoms of their bloodied gums.

Branimir tumbled, swinging his weapon and feeling it tear through flesh as easily as a hot blade through frost. For a moment, he may have heard Dorofej’s riddlesome voice—no, his cry—but Branimir had not the time to listen. Bran had to scramble, and sneak, and stab.

And stab. And stab. And stab.

The urgency of the battle and the demons thumped inside of his head.

“Stop!” A familiar voice, again, cried in desperation.

Crimson splattered his vision as his dagger cut through skin once more. His blade loved the taste of blood; he felt the need to drench it again.

Pain stung his leg, but it was quickly forgotten as demon after demon lunged for him. The Dreka were ever persistent in their attack. He spun, and twisted, and disappeared to avoid every demonic beast soaring through the air, vicious teeth aimed for his throat. They would not reach him. For a moment, he thought he saw a flash of Hanna’s wide eyes, but they looked unfamiliar. Treacherous. Evil. Besides, his dagger was already cocked behind his ear and he felt incapable of restraining himself.

BLURB

Branimir emerges from the Netherworld as a living legend and learns the Ash Tree is still in danger from the cursed dagger, kaelandur. An old friend compels Branimir to finish what they started at Melkorka. Once again, the former slave must keep kaelandur out of uncertain hands, while struggling to separate heroes from villains and friends from foes. Some evils never lessen.

BIO

RobertsonPic Joshua currently lives in Alaska with his wife and children. In 1999, he began crafting the world for Thrice Nine Legends, including Melkorka and Anaerfell. He is also the author of the A Midwinter Sellsword and Gladiators and Thieves in the Hawkhurst Saga. His short story, Grimsdalr, is inspired by the tale of Beowulf.

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LINKS

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Prerelease Excerpts from ANAERFELL by Joshua Robertson & J.C. Boyd

Oct 19, 2015 | Authors

Joshua Robertson and J.C. Boyd’s’s Anaerfell comes out October 31, and we’ve got not one, not two, but three excerpts for you to enjoy! Not sure if this is the Halloween read you’re looking for? Just check out the blurb. One word: “skin-switchers”.

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BLURB

Drast, cunning but reckless, is on the hunt for admiration. Tyran, calculating but tactless,
is in search of affection. Bound by a friendship thicker than blood, the two brothers have been hardened by their father’s ambitions. Drast and Tyran are forced to set aside their own hopes and dreams during their struggle to fulfill their father’s desire for immortality. The two will face skin-switchers and dragons, ultimately leading to a final clash with Wolos, God of the Dead.

Excerpt 1

Erzebeth convulsed. Her fur and skin shedding away while she wheeled about on the ground in agony. The bones readjusted and organs reset from beast to human. Where a beast had stood was now the naked figure of Erzebeth. Cuts and scratches patterned her body, but none were fatal.

Tyran had no place for modesty. The Vucari woman, within the privacy of the ice dome, struggled to her feet. Again, her dark eyes met his own, filled with compassion.

“You need to be put down, young Red.” Her voice was calm as her feet crossed in front of one another, closing the distance between them. “Your power is greater than any I have seen before, even from the Anshedar.”

“What?” Tyran said, forehead wrinkled with confusion. He had never heard of the race before, whether beast or otherwise.

“You are like a rabid dog, young Red. You are the perfect companion, loyal, and possibly even loving somewhere deep inside,” Erzebeth bit her lip. Her breasts, barely covered by her dark hair, touched the front of his chest. She halted her feet. “But, you are tainted by a disease that is stronger than the goodness in you. You cannot be left to live in this world, or you will corrupt every living thing around you.”

Tyran tilted his chin, lips parting. His free hand touched her pale skin, as whitish as the ice fortress that veiled this moment.

“You would taint me, young Red.” She stepped up on her tiptoes. “As with the rabid dog, you need to be put down.” AnaerfellCover

He grabbed her by the back of the neck, and pulled her to him. He kissed her with more force than he had ever kissed any woman.

This woman was not Isolde. This woman was battle hardened, and a warrior. She was not plain.

She grabbed his shoulders and returned the embrace, her tongue touching his lips. Her body was far warmer than his own, as if it were heated by the darkness.

He did not know what he was doing in this moment. It may have likely been the first time that his mind was clear from thought, acting without thinking. Though, in time, he may consider that when his death was nigh, he found that this was something he wanted to do before death found him.

The crashing against the ice pulled him from the moment. Tyran pulled back, moving the Vucari’s hair from her cheek. “You won’t kill me, Erzebeth.”

“No,” she breathed. Her hands fell to his chest. “But, it still needs to be done.”

Excerpt 2

His brother looked at his hands, now covered by great warm mittens. “Drast?”

“Mm?” Drast grunted, mimicking his brother.

“How are they going to remember us?”

“Who?”

Tyran shrugged his heavy shoulders. “The Stuhia. The Vucari. The world, I suppose.”

“By our apotheosis.”

“Does it always come down to glory?”

Drast snorted. “Yes. If we fail we will not be remembered. It must come to glory.”

Tyran shook his head. “But is what we are doing glorious?”

“We are off to kill a god. How could it not be?”

Tyran stopped and turned. “But if we are wrong. If killing Wolos is somehow an evil act. Or, if we fail and we are remembered because of our tyrant father—”

“Tyran the Tyrant,” Drast interrupted, chittering.

“I am serious. How do we know that we should even be doing what we are planning on doing? How do we know it is right? How do we know we can?”

“Tyran, you are overthinking this. Why do you even care how people will remember you to begin with? It will not matter. We will either succeed, in which case we are allowed to tell whatever tale of our victory we choose, or we fail and are dead and it doesn’t matter. Regardless, people will remember us for the height of our lives, when we faced a god.”

“I want to believe that I did something right for this world before I died.”

Excerpt 3

The room still whirled from last night. He tried to close his eyes to keep his stomach from doing the same, but closing his eyes actually made it worse. Drast was somewhat surprised that the drink was still affecting him like this. He had been having more than his fill for—he did not know how long. How long ago did Tyran leave? His mind was too foggy to remember. And Walstan was gone, too.

Vaguely, Drast saw that the sky was just turning blue with the rising sun. At least, he was fairly certain it was sunrise. None of the hues of sunset had begun to color the sky.

“Ser Drast?”

AnaerfellPoster He turned his head to the entrance into his chambers and pulled himself more upright to lean against the nightstand beside his bed. One of the serving women stood just inside of his room. “What?”

“The Arkhon wishes to speak with you.”

He was not certain what string of curses came from his lips, but the maid blanched and her face grew pink, almost to the color of her hair. The room swirled again while she spoke.

“What?” he asked again.

“I said, Ser Drast, the Arkhon instructed me to remain with you until you came to meet with him.” Her voice quivered.

She was right to fear him. Her voice was fuzzy, just like everything. But, he knew he had not been particularly kind to any of the servants of late. He had managed to avoid his father by effectively frightening the servants. Their fear, combined with late nights, ale, and sleeping until the sun set, had allowed him to avoid talking with anyone who did not enjoy a mug or two.

A few of the servants had initially joined him in drinking. He loosely recalled this maid among them. Ura? Mura? Lura?

“Kura,” he finally muttered. He had been a little too handsy and she had since avoided him like—he could not clearly comprise a simile. Like. Like? Like the moon avoided the sun? Good enough.

“Yes, Kura,” she murmured.

Drast spat at the chamber pot. He was fairly certain he missed. “Well, come on in, Kura.” He belched. “I know how we can pass the time.”

BIOS

J.C. lives in the Midwest with his wife and two dogs. He is currently pursuing his M.A. in English Literature while continuing to craft his own dark fantasy world. Before he had completed junior high, J.C. had received his first box set of Dungeons & Dragons and devoured the J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings. He has had a passion for the fantasy genre ever since.

LINKS

Pre-Order Anaerfell

Website

Brain to Books Blog Tour: Joshua Robertson

Aug 1, 2015 | Authors

Just the Facts

Name: Joshua Robertson
Genre: Dark Fantasy
Book: Melkorka of the Thrice Nine Legends series
Official Site

Bio

Joshua began crafting the world for his dark fantasy series, Thrice Nine Legends, in 1999. Melkorka, the first book of the series, was published in 2015. The sequel, Dyndaer, will be released in January 2016. He is also the author of the A Midwinter Sellsword and Gladiators and Thieves in the Hawkhurst Saga. His story, Grimsdalr, is inspired by the tale of Beowulf. Joshua currently lives in Alaska with his wife and children.

Melkorka Blurb

Kaelandur was forged by the Highborn to slay one of their own, Nedezhda Mager. As their slave, Branimir Baran never thought to question his cruel masters until he is forced to take part in the execution. His actions begin a chain of events that will lead him to confront demons, cannibals, and himself as he is forced to question his own morality and the true meaning of good and evil.

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Book Synopsis

Melkorka

Branimir is a slave to the mighty Highborn. Unwittingly, his masters forge a copper dagger capable of destroying the Ash Tree. Drawn along on the quest to remedy the mistake of his masters, Branimir becomes the most unlikely of heroes in an inimical world of magic and mayhem.

A Midwinter Sellsword

A sellsword is lured into the daunting political games within Hawkhurst. How many people will he have to kill to keep his own secrets hidden and to escape the city?

Gladiators and Thieves

The second installment in the Hawkhurst Saga. A bastard child of a noble family escaped the subterranean city after being enslaved to the gladiator pits. After being lured into the daunting political games, will he ever find his freedom again?

Grimsdalr

In the spirit of the epic poem, Beowulf, a renowned hero travels across the whale-road to defeat a monster that plagues the land of Croune.

Interview

Tell us a little about yourself.

I am originally from Kansas and I currently live in Alaska with my wife and children. I started writing snippets of fantasy and horror around the age of nine, had a collection of poetry and short stories by fifteen, and had completed my first fantasy novel at seventeen. Recently, I have published a couple of books and started my own small press, Crimson Edge Publishing Company.

How many books have you written?

I have recently published Melkorka in January 2015, the first book in the The Kaelandur Series, within the universe of Thrice Nine Legends. I am extremely excited about this novel and have received some great reviews. I also published A Midwinter Sellsword, Grimsdalr, and Gladiators and Thieves. I have several WIPs, including the sequel to Melkorka, titled Dyndaer. I am also co-writing another novel within Thrice Nine Legends called Anaerfell, to be released October 2015.
What genre do you enjoy writing the most?

I enjoy writing fantasy or dark fantasy more than anything. I have some snippets laying around that are science fiction and dystopian, but I am most comfortable in the fantasy realm.

Tell us a bit more about your book?

For the sake of brevity, I will tell you about Melkorka. It is about a slave, named Branimir, melkorka-200x300 who serves the mighty Highborn. Unwittingly, his masters forge a copper dagger capable of destroying the Ash Tree. Drawn along on the quest to remedy the mistake of his masters, Branimir becomes the most unlikely of heroes in an inimical world of magic and mayhem.

What inspired you to write this book?

The sequel to Melkorka, Dyndaer, has been written and rewritten repeatedly over the past decade. In ten years, I have scrapped Dyndaer many times in frustration that I could get the story exactly how I wanted it. Then, I woke up one morning in December 2013 from an inspirational dream that presented the core to the story. Lo and behold, Melkorka was created, giving birth to the rest of the story.

How did you come up with the title of your book?

Melkorka is the name of the castle that serves as the start of this tale. The word itself has some meaning, found in the thirteenth century Icelandic tale, Laxdaela saga. Laxdaela saga makes mention of Melkorka an Irish princess that was taken as a slave and pretended to be mute, hiding her identity, only to reveal later that there was more to her than what was on the surface. In many ways, Melkorka is a story that echoes the complexity in legend, suggesting to the reader that there is more than what appears on the surface. It seemed fitting for the first book in The Kaelandur Series.

Tell us a little bit about your cover art. Who designed it? Why did you go with that particular image/artwork?

Winter Bayne is the talented graphic designer that completed the cover for Melkorka (and my other novels). The emblem on the front of the cover for Melkorka is the mirror image of the symbol of the Sun God in Melkorka. This is the most revered god during the events of the novel. I wanted a simple image for the theme. I could not be more pleased with the final outcome.

Do you have any strange writing habits?

I will always drink one cup of coffee before starting to write, and I have a fresh pot brewed and at the ready for once I start.

You’re not alone in that. *laughing*

I generally write in the late evening to early morning (between 2000 and 0200). There are several songs that I like to play depending on what scene is unfolding: romantic, suspense, or suspicious. And, I have a rule that I don’t get rewarded with chips and salsa until I have completed a minimum of 1000 words.

Are you a plotter or do you write by the seat of your pants?

I will usually write the first two or three chapters and then I plot the rest of the story. I am a believer in plotting a story to assure that it has the elements of a complete story. I have read too many novels with plot holes or that are rushed at the end to wrap up loose ends.

What book do you wish you could have written?

The entire series of the Game of Thrones, actually. I have never read them (yet) but I do watch the television series. I have found that the themes in the story are similar to the ones in my own books…and I started my stories over ten years ago.

How important are names to you in your books? Do you choose the names based on liking the way it sounds or the meaning?

When I first start writing, I do not pay much attention to the names. However, once finished, I focus heavily on the names to build on the culture and flavor of the story. I like to have my names have similar sounds and a sense of culture behind them. It would be bizarre to have a Bilbo Baggins, a Jon Snow, and a Candace Everdeen in the same story. Names have to fit the time, place, and culture of the story – and when they break the rules, there should be a logical reason behind it (e.g. a vampire named Vladimir is living in the modern century).

Have you always enjoyed writing?

Absolutely. In high school, I was considered the most likely to become a published writer. I regret it has taken me almost ten years to seriously start pursuing the career. Regardless, it is something I will continue to do until the day I die. I will never retire from writing.

What is your favorite snack food?

I have several, especially when I write: coffee, chips and salsa, and sour patch kids.

If you had a supernatural power, what would it be?

My general answer to this question is super healing powers. I always thought that was by far the best superpower that anybody could come across. Then, I had another author suggest the manipulation of time. Thus, I have to recant the prior and choose the latter.

Where is one place you want to visit that you haven’t been before?

Czechoslovakia. I want to simply roam through the hills and drink wine.