The launch-week goodies keep coming! Today, you can read the prologue of Keeper of the Hidden Flame — free, gratuit, gratis and for nada!
The Prologue
This short taster sets the stage for events that unfold later in the novel and introduces Marie Condé, one of the more academically inclined members of the Keepers of the Hidden Flame.
Marie has been delving into some very odd secrets.
And, as Gaston Dubois is about to discover, some secrets are better left buried…
Read the prologue now… if you dare!
I hope you enjoy it and that it whets your appetite for the full book, which launches Tuesday 22nd September.
Want to read Keeper of the Hidden Flame on your Kindle in EPUB or PDF, along with a bonus first chapter? Sign up for my mailing list HERE.
Signing up means you can also win signed copies of all four Gaston Dubois Adventures, plus I’ll be revealing some exclusive offers next week. Newsletter subscribers will be first in line.
Meet me at Innsmouth!
If you’re in the area this weekend, do drop by the awesome Innsmouth Literary Festival.
I’ll be launching Keeper of the Hidden Flame in person, with a live reading, Q&A and signings.
Come and say hello!
Unlike the real Innsmouth, the locals are extremely fun and friendly.
Just beware if anyone offers you some strange-looking gold…
That’s it for now. Enjoy the prologue — and I hope to see you at Innsmouth!
Keeper of the Hidden Flame Prologue
Torchlight flickered along the temple’s walls, sending shadows skittering—strange unnatural shapes which slunk across the ancient stone taking on a life of their own. Superbe, thought Marie Condé, just what you need when creeping through the heart of an enemy fortress, the very shadows themselves conspiring against you.
She stole forward, suppressing her instinct to flee from this nest of vipers and stuck to the shadier parts of the passageway, blending into the dark and trusting her obscura enchantment would hold. She kept her footsteps light, her ears open, letting her instincts guide her, following her feelings.
Marie came to a fork in the passageway and hearing footsteps approaching, turned quickly to her left and ducked into a dark alcove. There, she slowed her heart, kept her breathing shallow and watched as an ophidian patrol marched past. Torchlight danced on the tips of their spears, the scaled muscles of their humanoid torsos and the weird vertical pupils of their eyes. She had rarely encountered serpent kind before, but they stirred up a revulsion in her which was hard to suppress. Perhaps it was a racial memory, mankind’s natural aversion to snakes? She could never smell that indefinable musky odour without wanting to retch.
She waited until their footsteps became distant and padding onward, she came to another junction in the maze-like complex, waiting for her intuition to light the way. Down, why did it always have to be down? This section of the fortress was silent, still caked with the dust of centuries, perhaps a result of its recent re-emergence. Maybe cleanliness was not a priority for the serpents? Did they lack servants or chamber maids to do their bidding? She was suddenly struck by the absurdity of the thought. The cleaning schedules of snake kind is not what one should be worrying about on a dangerous espionage mission into the heart of enemy territory. ‘Focus Marie, priorities,’ she told herself.
Down she delved, deeper and deeper into the heart of the unnerving citadel. As she walked, she tried to ignore the imposing statues which depicted inhuman serpent warriors and potent sorcerers, less still, the icons, banners and murals which showed a brooding darkness engulfing the sun. Even worse were the shallow bronze bowls which bubbled and seethed with mysterious liquids and gave off a rank, bitter odour. Perhaps it was better not to know what foulness they contained.
Her instincts told her she was drawing near her destination. She had followed this lead like a thread, ever since she had accidentally intercepted the ophidiancourier two days ago. Leafing through the captured dispatches she had learned that a crucial meeting was to take place here tonight. She had sent word to her fellow Keepers, but none had come to her aid in time, so she was forced to take the assignment alone.
Field work was not her usual forte, she was much more comfortable with academic pursuits, research into dusty books, lost arcana and esoteric studies. But she was a Keeper and when duty called she would answer. She touched the small flame icon on her blouson’s lapel. Needs must when the devil drives.
As she journeyed onward, the frequency and intensity of the patrols increased and she had to dodge several more by darting into side passages or pressing herself behind one of those daunting statues. As each line of ophidians strode past, she held her breath, waiting for a hiss of discovery, but those sinister eyes slid off her, their minds deceived by the cunning of her glamour. She was grateful she had studied so diligently, at least some academic pursuits were useful out in the field.
At the end of a long passageway, Marie came to a portal which was larger, more elaborate and heavily guarded. Her intuition pointed her forward like an arrow, but barring the way was a formidable ophidian wearing ornate armour, a closed helmet and wielding a wicked-looking halberd. Some kind of officer or elite-class guard, she guessed. Ophidian society was heavily stratified with very specific roles based on heritage, lineage and which branch of serpentes they derived from. Then there was also the split between the Atavists and the Evolved to consider. This one had the look of an adder about it and it was Evolved sporting an extra set of arms. Wonderful. Its rich weapons and superior armour, particularly that helmet, meant it might not be so easily deceived by her enchantment.
The adder’s bulky body blocked the doorway, so there was no easy way to sneak by it either, but fortunately, this corridor was deserted. There was no-one else around to witness her work. Reaching inside herself, Marie tapped into her innate power, seeking the feeling, shaping the enchantment, conjuring the correct sequence of words and syllables that would call it to life. Her power flared, her eyes burning with eldritch light as she unleashed the spell, directing it at the elite guard, willing it to overcome the creature’s defences. For a moment it stiffened, came alert and she thought she had miscast the cantrip. Then a dullness overcame it, its body seemed to deflate and it toppled to the floor, the halberd falling with a clatter. Marie tensed, waiting for some reaction, but the hallway remained silent, empty, tenantless.
Great, it couldn’t have fallen backwards could it? That would have been far too convenient. Setting her jaw, she began to drag the slumbering body into the darkness beyond.
‘Vibora, Baptiste. Ssstep forward. You are our representatives here. What progress do you report?’ The voice was soft, sibilant heavy, laden with authority; power and potency dripped from every word like venom.
Marie crawled silently along the gallery on all fours, took a breath and then carefully peeked over the parapet into the audience chamber below. Two figures abased themselves before a third who sat upon an elaborate throne. The taller of the two figures was a spare, aesthetic looking man who wore a plain frock coat. The other appeared to be a richly-dressed aristocrat who doffed his peacock feathered hat in an elaborate bow. As he came back to the vertical, she saw his head was that of a viper.
Shit, Marie cursed internally. What have I gotten myself into here?
The figure on the throne was clad in a flowing crimson robe heavily marked with serpentine sigils. He wore a golden coronet with a huge amethyst jewel on his brow and bore a sceptre in his right fist which glowed with an internal emerald light. His body too was humanoid but the head was that of a python. Cruel, ancient eyes regarded the two figures before him. Even from here she could feel the potency of his magical aura. The figure, who she guessed was a high priest or cleric of some kind, regarded the pair with a mix of authority and hauteur.
‘Lord, the design continues apace,’ the viper answered. ‘The English general, Wellington, is in winter quarters in Portugal, but we predict that this spring he will go on the offensive. He is opposed by the French marshals Marmont and Soult who are both competent tacticians. The Spanish continue to resist, a brutal guerrilla campaign that saps French lives and morale. We anticipate this year will bring further decisive battles. The outcome lies in the balance, but with certainty there will be more conflict, more casualties.’
‘Good. Our master requires a hefty toll, many more deaths, many more souls, if he is ever to manifest.’
‘I assure you that will not be a problem, my lord.’
‘Excellent, you must hope it will not be, for you have just pledged your life on it. The swallower of suns is impatient and ever eager to break through into this world again.’
‘My lord.’ The viper bowed.
‘And the lesser design, the forerunner of the greater?’
‘Some are in place, others on the brink of being so. But such things take time, and gold. A lot of gold.’
‘You will have all the funds you require, but time is of the essence. I wisssh to see tangible progress the next time you come before me.’
‘My lord.’
‘And you, warmblood. What of the one who slew our beloved de Montoya?’
‘Oh, we have plans in place for him, my liege,’ said the shaven-headed man.
‘Excellent, I expect him to endure supreme agonies before he dies.’
‘Indeed, my lord, we will ensure it is not quick. Disgrace, ruin and exile will be his lot, he deserves to suffer for his presumption. Then and only then, when everything he has ever loved is gone, will we deliver the killing blow.’
‘Then we are in accord. Leave us now.’
The two figures abased themselves again and then turned to depart. As he strode from the chamber, the viper’s head transformed again into the shape of a handsome, dark-haired human.
Marie was astonished. She hadn’t understood half of their cryptic utterances, but something clearly significant was taking place. She must leave now, escape this place undetected and report back to Seraph. He would know what to do, how to use this knowledge. Painstakingly, she tried to lever her eyes away from the figure on the throne, but suddenly his gaze swept upward. His sinister python’s eyes flared, boring right through her.
‘Did you learn what you sought, interloper?’
Merde.
She attempted to break the spell, tried to flee, but her whole body suddenly felt dull, leaden. She was caught, transfixed by that compelling gaze.
‘It isss useless to resssist. Come to me, warmflesh. Come.’
Distantly she watched as her body obeyed, while her mind bucked and screamed. Marie rose, walked to the end of the gallery and down the stairs. She fought with every shred of her being, every ounce of her soul, but the pull was too great, the compulsion too strong. Even as her mind rebelled, her body complied.
She stood before the high priest and couldn’t have felt more naked if her clothes had suddenly melted away. Those round, impossibly dark pupils seemed to contain the blackness of the universe. They bored into her, stripping away her defences, levering her mind wide open.
Yet even as they did, she felt a slight tension give in the force of the compulsion. Perhaps? She walled off a part of her mind and inside it her power flared. For a second her body was her own again and she poured every last iota of her power into a withering eldritch blast which engulfed the priest in uncanny amethyst flames.
Drained, she slumped, falling to the floor with the effort she had expended. But there was little time to waste. If she could get up, she could flee before the others came… if only she could find the energy to rise to her feet.
‘Impressive for one ssso young, but the Chosen of Apep do not wilt before such petty magics.’
The priest rose, vestments charred, burnt away by her spell, but his pallid scaly flesh wasn’t even scorched. He seemed largely unaffected by the pinnacle of her power. Her mouth split open to emit a scream but even that was denied her as the priest’s fangs sank into her flesh and his serpentine psyche slithered into her mind.
Round Up…
It’s been a busy few weeks getting ready for the launch, so in case you missed anything, here’s a quick round-up of some of the Mon Dieu Cthulhu! fun that’s already been happening.
Talks and Interviews
British Fantasy Society Interview
Innsmouth Book Club: The Best Lovecraftian Games
Mon Dieu Cthulhu!
Who the Devil is Gaston Dubois?
Ride with the Men of the Accursed 31st
Discover the Keepers of the Hidden Flame
What on Earth is Mon Dieu Cthulhu!
Comments are disabled for this post