Steven Moorer's Blog

The time is almost upon us.  Way back in 2013 something happened, I published The Coming of Shadows.  It was the start to what would be a three-part series that was supposed to be finished.

Fast Foward to now.  Book 2 is not on the horizon and things are shaping up nicely.  It has been a long road to get here and now its time.  While I won’t say the exact date it will be released I can say soon.  In the meantime I have made the ebook version of Book 1, The Coming of Shadows, free on Kindle this weekend.  If you need a refresher or have never read it be sure to drop by and download it.  That way you are ready for Book 2, The Absence of Light!

You can check out the cover and a small excerpt below, yes it very basic, but think of this.  What is the absence of light?  Darkness.

Coming soon.

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“That’s not yours,” Dominic said, both hands are clinching into a fist.  “And what are you going to do, Lord Carlye,”  Garret said, pointing the tip of the sword at his face.  “You see, Lord Carlye, you’re going to just that, nothing.”

“What is anyone going to do?  Nothing.”  Garrett said, sheathing the rapier and laughing.  “You see, let me fill you in on the last few weeks.  Your little brother, your baby brother, decided to gather his men and march them south.  I must say it was, a formidable force of men and your little could have easily defeated any of the garrisons set along the Middle River.”  Garrett said, now pacing, rubbing his hands together.

“But did he?  No, he tucked tail and ran like a scared child.  Your little brother, your savior, tucked his tail and ran.  Now here we are, at an impasse.  The king wants you to live; I have no problem giving you a traitors death, remove your head, and mount it where the whole world can see.  You see, you are not the martyr they need, you are the outcast of a forgotten family, a family that will bow in allegiance to House Candrin, and our King, D-O-M-I-N-I-C”  Garrett added, insulting Dominic and taking a seat.

“Before this is over, I will kill you, Garrett.”  He said seeing the guards stand fast and draw pistols.

So I’m writing this tonight to tell everyone in the Camden, AL Area be sure to swing by Whitaker Drugs and pick up your copy of The Coming Of Shadows.  If you can’t get by you can always pick up your paperback or ebook online at Amazon.

Now to fast forward a little bit.  Today we laid a very dear friend to rest, Brother Willie Crawford, who was the preacher at my church as a child.  I first met Brother Crawford shortly after he became the full time preacher at Bethsaida Baptist in the early 2000’s and I continued to attend until I left, sometime in the mid 2000’s.  Unfortunately I cannot tell stories that some can but I can confidently say that he was great man and a servant of Christ.

As I was at the fellowship dinner afterward I was speaking to people and found out the area that I live will be having a tour of homes/historical day coming up very soon.  Well in natural me fashion I was showing my book to an interested party and I mentioned that I had started a book about the history of Furman.  So without too many words I was convinced to complete that project before the Spring Event so the release could happen with the event.   The project isn’t complete, and I wouldn’t dare say it is close, but it’s close.  Close by I mean, I have an outline and somethings typed.

I will dedicating the next couple of months to get this project to a point it can be edit and rewrite ready by the first of the year.  I’m only projecting a book a third of the size of The Coming of Shadows, and most of it already written fact so it is more of a transcribing project than anything.

But I want to officially announce the title, Furman, Alabama.  A Trip Through Time.

Now Shadows fans.  I haven’t forgot about you at all.  I know that it took 6 years to get back to the point that book 2 is rolling, but I feel the calling to finish this project first.  So anyone who reads this please bare with me as I start pulling double duty on these books and I hope no one will be disappointed.

As many of you may know I am knee deep in the promotion for the reboot and re-release of The Coming Of Shadows.  As many of you may know I did release this book back in 2013, but I never really did anything with it and I lost touch with the second book, which was already in writing.

Well, let us fast forward a few years.  A friend and co-worker of mine, Jeremy Atchison finished his book, The Guardian Prince, (Cover and link to buy below).  When Jeremy finished we started talking about my book and that gave me the push I needed to not only to get back on Book 2, but go back and revisit Book 1.

Jeremy writes in the same sub-genre as me and while I delve into the more fantasy elements of my works, he stays in the real world.  Just like me he has spent countless hours and time to develop his story and while I’m still reading it I cannot go into a detailed review, but I will.

If you are a fantasy fan or even if you’re not, I want you to check this book out.  Like I said the link is below to Amazon, where you can have a copy within a few days.  And as one last request, if you get your copy, whether digital or print please be sure to leave him a review.  All authors, especially Independent ones like Jeremy and myself love reviews of our work.

As the time gets ever so closer to the rebooted release of The Coming of Shadows I wanted to take some time to share some updates.  For all my local people, Wilcox County, Alabama be sure to go by Whitaker Drugs in Camden, AL to pick up your copy.  It will retail for $14 in store and online but everyone I would like to encourage you to shop local and help support one of our local businesses.  

For people wanting the ebook.  The #kindle version is being put together now and should be live sometime shortly after the paperback release, which I will announce this week!

For now that’s all the news I have to share, i hope to hear everyone’s feedbac k and reviews.

With The Coming of Shadows almost ready for its re-release the first two short stories, The Soldier’s Code and The Protector have been combined along with a new guide, The Eight Great into a new ebook.  You can pick up your copy today, exclusively on Kindle for $2.99.

Make sure you jump on this fast because the price will go up when the ebook reaches other formats later this week.

Prelude To The Tide is available at Amazon and becoming available at Barnes and Noble and other great ebook retailers.

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The final cover for the reboot and re-release of The Coming of Shadows.  Check it out below 

Before i dive head first into this treat I have prepared.  I want to thank everyone who voted on Facebook for the cover design.  I’m working on that now and getting it ready for print.  I had to do some tweaking to the interior formatting and it changed my page count which in turn changed the spine of the book ever so slightly, but enough of an error that the print check rejected the cover.  So back to the drawing board….literally. But the good news is the interior is finished.

Ok Now onto this.  Everyone who made their voices heard on Facebook, I have written your names down and each one of you is now eligible for a free paperback copy when they come out.   I don’t have an exact date yet but hopefully this month.  I will let you know when and how I’m going to do the giveaway.

Now for the Final treat.  I have pasted from my trusted MS Word the Prologue of The Coming of Shadows below.  Enjoy.

“How much longer?” Prim asked eagerly as the sun began to fall through the trees of the Ghost Marsh. “He’s nothing more than worm food now.”

“Why, afraid of the dark?” Commander Will Southerlin said, cracking a glimpse of a smile across his wind burned lips. “It’s just a dead man,” he added.

Prim did not respond. He was a young man, not past thirty, and cared nothing about any dead corpse. “He was nothing, a hermit, an old man which age has finally run down,” he said as he shuffled on the chair, trying to keep his gun belt from digging into his side.

“And how do you know that? He had to have been of importance. If not, why are we here?” Southerlin quickly said as he knelt over the decomposing body.  “What’s your hurry anyway?”

“Corn Liquor, something other than stale bread and cheese, and yes a woman in my lap.”  Prim said sarcastically Commander Southerlin.

“Just keep it in your trousers a bit longer; we are almost done,” Southerlin sternly said spitting Rockford weed juice from his mouth.

A fortnight before they had been sent by the Lieutenant at the request of the King’s steward. In his five years with the Crimson Guard and two years as Southerlin’s second he had never been sent to investigate a death or to retrieve the personal effects and the body. Damn old age is no longer a suitable form of death, Prim thought. He was becoming more and more restless. They had rummaged through everything this man owned and had taken anything of value, or at least what looked valuable. Their orders were clear from the King’s steward: “Bring back all items of value and find his journal,” the steward had said.

He suddenly was jealous of the two other Crimson Guard soldiers standing guard outside; at least they could take a nap.

“It’s here!” he heard Southerlin shout from the only other room of the small clay and wood hut.

He emerged from the room carrying a black leather bound book covered in dust. To Prim’s eyes it looked like any other book you would find in the ancient section of Derancross’ library.

Prim wasn’t impressed at all. He was more agitated than relived that they found the book. “Half a day for a book, a couple of trinkets and clothes,” he said getting to his feet. “What a waste! Now can we wrap this body and leave?” he asked reaching for a bundle of lines and canvas.

Within an hour they had wrapped the body and covered it with generous amounts of perfumes and oils. With the body secured along with his small bag of belongings to a pack horse, they left the hut along with the two other soldiers who had been standing guard outside.

The trek through dense forest and marshes in the shadow of the Whitecrown Mountains would be daunting and slow. This land was widely untouched by human hands; it was a miracle this man lived here, secluded and alone.

They would take a different route this time. Instead of going by road they were traveling south out of the swamp to the city of Garatin. From there they would catch a ship and take the Central River back to Derancross, making the return journey in half the time.

“They say this land is haunted by the ghost of the Shadow Races,” one of the other soldiers quietly stated.

The entire journey had yielded no conversation from the two. They had eaten together, conversing quietly. They were lowly men at arms probably serving for a crime instead of rotting in prison.

“So he speaks,” Southerlin said as he watched the eerie terrain in front of him. “What is your name?” he asked.

“Fullbright, and this is Warfield, Commander Sir. He is a mute,” the young soldier said. “I met him months ago a swore to be his helper.”

“Ha,” Prim yelled. “An incestual bastard and a mute, what joy.” He was amused. I fought against you bastards a year ago and watched my brothers die, and now one of you is my brother.

The Fullbrights were a family who claimed to be noble on their own accord, but were not recognized by the crown. Over the years they had raised up against the King, wanting their accord of nobility accepted, and each time they had been defeated easily.  They lived in the west of Agantia, in close small settlements, some only a few leagues to the north.

Even though they claimed to be noble, they had no such blood or claim other than the population and control of land. They believed in pure full blood and did not believe in marriage or conception outside of the Fullbright family.

“Ages ago, it was here that the Shadow Races engaged in a bloody battle,” Fullbright said. “Here they spilled their blood and their powers into the marsh-”

“And now the dead rise and walk with snakes,” Prim said, cutting him off and once again not amused. He was becoming annoyed. He had heard the stories as everyone had, but the actual truths had been lost in history; his mother had called is “the last war of magic.”

“I know that in your culture it is not common to believe in a thousands of years old,” Fullbright said, “but hear this one. The man we carry is no mystery to me. When I was only a child, my child minder told me of a man who lived in the marsh. This man had lived there for many years, and seemingly had not aged.  I believe this to be the man of those stories.”

A crash into a shallow puddle startled them.

“A beaver,” Southerlin stated. “Enlighten us, you bastard son of your sister,” he insultingly commanded the Fullbright boy.

“It is said that this man had no name but had seen the terrors of the Shadow War. He was once a man, mortal of flesh and blood, but in one fell swoop his fate was sealed and his life locked in an immortal dance that death could not touch. In history they were called the Guiden.”

Prim was skeptical. He knew the story of the Guiden; they were seers not of the shadow races and they supposedly had magical powers.  History had them recorded as a small renegade group that fought in the Shadow War, but the truth of their magic was myth.

“The Guiden were all killed in the war, their beliefs and following lost, so how could one be here?”  Prim asked looking back Fullbright.

The boy didn’t answer he just looked into the dark marsh in front of him.

“Whoever he may be; our immortal friend has met his mortality,” Southerlin said as he broke a smile, then a laugh. It was a tall tale, one that belonged around the fire pit to frighten children into not venturing into the marsh. There was nothing there but rotting plants, bloodsucking insects and venomous snakes.

“Quiet, stop the horses!” Southerlin whispered. He had pulled his steed to a stop and looked into the darkness; he had always been keen to lurking danger.

Prim obeyed, softly and instinctively grabbing the basket hilt of his rapier.

“I am Commander William Southerlin of the Crimson Guard, sworn protector of the realm, loyal to the House Tiernan and its King Liam, first of his name,” he said into the darkness. The night had changed. Their horses were becoming nervous, and a thick, pungent odor filled the air. The smell of sulfur and a thick, unyielding fog had covered the men.

The King of Agantia and Lord of all Lords. The words ran through Prim’s head. They were words to answer Commander Southerlin’s challenge. He waited patiently for the response he hoped would come, but there was nothing but darkness and fog.

“Show yourselves!” Southerlin’s command echoed through the marsh.

“Take up arms; we are not alone,” Southerlin ordered.

It was all too fast, like the wind taking parchment and carrying it to another land. An arrow, which seemed to come from nowhere, drove itself through Southerlin’s neck, killing him almost instantly.

As his corpse fell from the horse, Prim’s horse bucked, tossing him into the pungent marsh. His eyes had gone blurry and his breath was short but his hearing was keen. The sound of Warfield’s pathetic moans and heavy breathing filled the night, he saw the mute’s bloody and severed head land just inches from his own, mud and slop splattering in his eyes.

Everything around him was like a cyclone of wind, fast and unforgiving. From nowhere a thin black blade missed him by only a hair as he rolled and in one fluent motion came to his feet. He reached to his right side and grabbed the hilt of his flintlock pistol.

I hope the powder is still dry, he thought and then…

It burned more than anything, like a thousand hot embers going into his chest.

As his eyes faded he watched Fulbright ride fast through the marsh, the pack horse in tow. “Ride fast, you bastard,” he said pathetically as he felt blood come up into the back of his mouth and he saw the eyes of their attackers.  Everything that his mother and others had told him, the stories of the Shadow War, the magic, the Shadow races, was it all true?  If it was, it was more than a story; it was a nightmare, one he was living now.

His last sight was his attacker’s grey pale skin, twisted black hair and its voice, speaking bone chilling words in an unfamiliar tongue. The Shadow’s eyes glowed orange as the sun; it twisted the blade in his chest.  Blackness.