So, what we really need to do is give away some free copies of The Corpse-Rat King, don’t you think?
Here’s what we’re going to do:
THE GREAT BIG Co-RK TEASE, PART THE ELECTRONIC
Every couple of days from here until September 1 I’ll put out a shout. Be the first person to shout out a page number between 7 and 395 and I’ll post an excerpt from that very page of the novel.
Two randomly selected posters will win electronic copies of the book come September 1st, so don’t despair if you’re not the first to post– put something up anyway and you’ll go in the draw to win the e-books.
In fact, we’re already doing just that, so, in the interests of catching you all up, have the first couple of excerpts, courtesy of people who already had the sense to follow my page.
It was the only object in the room. Marius reached out a hand and pushed against it, wincing as the hot wood seared his palm. The heavy cask refused to move. Marius closed his eyes. That much liquid, in a barrel that solid, must weigh almost two hundred pounds. It was his only recourse. There was no time to think about it. Marius frowned, recalling the ease with which the dead warrior had lifted him from the ground. He must weigh nearly as much as the barrel, yet the soldier had hefted him without an ounce of effort. The dead had their own strengths, the soldier had said. And he was dead, was he not? At least, his body was. It bore all the hallmarks of being so. Perhaps it had the same strengths.
They lay on opposite sides of the fire, listening to the rain thunder against the rock shelf outside. Marius stared out the dimly-lit entrance, willing on a sleep he felt neither necessary nor welcome. Anything to avoid another conversation. Then Gerd spoke once more, and the hope was shattered.
“You know, this reminds me of home.”
“This. It reminds me of being at home.”
Marius contemplated the hard rock beneath his hip, the wind and spray chilling him from outside.
“How? You grew up in a village.”
The old man cleaved the stickleprick bush without stopping, stick arms waving like a pair of spindly black machetes, cutting a path through the bushes at a pace that would have impressed a charging elephant. Marius watched him disappear into the gloom of the forest. Within moments the man was out of sight, but the sound of breaking vegetation continued for several minutes. Marius listened to the crashes of destruction fade into the distance, then turned back to the mule. They stared at each other. Marius’ gaze slipped down to the sand at his feet. No footprints spoiled the ground between the cart and the forest.
“Well,” he said. “What do you make of that?”
There’s another shout-out happening almost immediately, so don’t you think you’d better be getting to it?