Tales From Norlandia Part 6

Here is the fifth teaser from “The Rocks of Aserol.” Again, it features a character and situation that may appear in the book. 

Ralf

                 

Engine burbling contentedly, Ralf’s flying machine burst out into the bright sunlight. Below him the clouds stretched out like a woollen blanket, hiding the ground. Underneath him and miles behind was the runway and the testing ground, it had not occurred to him yet to worry that he might have a problem in returning safely to earth. That was in the future, he had enough fuel for an hour or more of flight and who knew what would happen by then. And he loved to fly.

This version of the plane was even better than the one he had flown up to a week ago. Working tirelessly the engineers and artificers were making improvements to the design of the machine on a daily basis, helped in no small part by reports of the flying tests made by Ralf and his colleagues. What a difference from the early days, when lifespans were measured in seconds, when the first attempts at flight were an almost guaranteed death sentence.

Ralf had survived the first gas-powered aircraft and his remarks and suggestions had helped him reach the point he was at now. Instead of the open cockpit and the constricting woollen suit, helmet and goggles he was warm and comfortable in an enclosed glass bubble. Mounted atop a machine of wood, steel and canvas, he hurtled through the bright skies over the Northlands faster and higher than anyone had ever gone before. And unlike the balloonists, hung in baskets under their bubbles of gas, he was in control of his fate.

He looked at his instrument panel, a new innovation based on the scientific advances of his countries industry. Where before there had only been a compass, now there were gauges and clockworks of bright brass and silver that told him many things. According to their dials, he was five thousand feet above sea level and travelling eastwards at one hundred miles per hour. His gas guns, mounted on each wing were fully loaded and his fuel supply was at three-quarters full.

Movement to his left caught his eye; he was being joined by a Drogan. One of the fearsome flying beasts had spotted him and come for a closer look. Its body and long neck was vividly scaled in iridescent colour and the leathery wings flapped effortlessly as it kept pace at his side. Ralf had tried before to get the beasts in his gun sights but despite their size they were much more nimble than his plane and seemed to know by instinct to keep away from the position in front of the wings. Much though he had come to admire the creature, he was only too aware of its propensity for attacking people and animals.

He had an idea for a new tactic to get the Drogan into his sights, pushing the control column forward he descended until he was just skimming the top of the clouds. Checking, he saw that he was still being followed, the Drogan was thirty yards away to his left. He dove into the clouds and counted to five, pulling up again into the light he saw that the beast was still in the same place. Had it followed him into the clouds or had it merely waited for his reappearance?

He repeated the manoeuvre several times with the same result, the position of the Drogan never changed each time he popped out into sunlight it was there.

Next time, Ralf dropped into the clouds and as soon as he was enfolded in the murk, increased speed and turned to his right. He watched as the compass needle swung and as he approached the heading he had started from he lifted out of the cloud. As the last tendrils of cloud fell away he saw that his plan had worked. The Drogan was in front of him! Its head was turned to the right as if it was looking for the plane. As the distance decreased Ralf lined up the gunsight on the plane’s nose and pressed the red button on his control stick.

The craft shuddered as the guns fired and the Drogan flapped at the air as the bullets struck. Ralf could see them strike the scales; they made no impression as the beast stopped and hung in the air. Ralf flashed past and as he did it struck at him.

The jaws with their rows of sharp teeth closed on the tail of the plane. Ralf fancied that he heard them snap shut; in an instant, the hunter had become the hunted! His forward motion faltered and he started to rotate, his body slumping sideways. He thought he felt the plane’s tail stretching and wondered if it would rip away. He was now upside down and pointing at the clouds, the plane was in the grip of the Drogan and he was helpless.

In desperation he opened the gas supply and the engine howled. The sudden acceleration jerked the Drogan’s neck and it released its mouthful of wood and canvas. Ralf raced away and rolled the plane upright. As he returned to level flight he saw in the mirror that the beast was gaining on him and wished he had a gas gun facing aft. The approaching Drogan was large in his mirror and he was at full speed. He was flying away from land and safety with a diminishing amount of fuel.

Pre-order links are here

If you've missed the other parts of the build-up, you can start again here

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Get your FREE eBook

I have released a collection of short stories, excerpts, and teasers as a FREE download for anyone who would like a copy. Hosted by bookfunnel, a version is available for all e-readers and there is also a pdf file available if you want to read it on a p.c. And they're not all science-fiction either!

If you would like a copy, just go to this page, enter your email address (so I know where to send it) and you’ll get a link to the host within 24 hours.

If you’re worried about leaving your email address and getting spam messages, I promise that I will never pass your details on, my websites privacy policy is located here. 

The eBook giveaway is securely hosted by Bookfunnel, who will ensure you get the appropriate file for your device.

I hope you enjoy the stories, any comments will be welcomed.

No Words

Nothing much to say; our dog Tizer has gone to that great kennel at Rainbow Bridge. 
He loved it here in Brixham, especially at Sharkham and in the sea.

So long, old friend, I'll see you again one day.

Another kitchen gadget

And this time, it's a spiralizer!

I had a practice with a potato, just to see what the cut pieces would come out like

Then it was the turn of a courgette, courgetti time.

And here we go,

I microwaved the courgetti for 2 minutes on high and used it as a base for bolognese made with beef, mushrooms, peppers, onions and garlic in tomato passata. 

Excellent!!

Tales From Norlandia, Part 5

Here is the fourth vignette from the soon to be published novel, featuring another character that may or may not appear later.

Maloney’s Arm

“Lieutenant Maloney, would you please remove your shirt for me.”

“Not Lieutenant any more, sir, beg pardon. Now I am discharged I am plain Mr. Maloney,” he replied.

A little over six feet tall and heavily built, Maloney radiated military bearing, standing rod-straight, booted feet together.

“Excuse me,” the doctor said, fiddling with the magnifying lenses he wore on a heavy frame. They made his eyes seem huge and pink-tinted, thought Maloney, who had never seen the like before. Some officers wore monocular lenses but he had never seen this contraption fixed on a man’s nose. There was some sort of clockwork, brass and silver at the outside of each lens and it clicked as he fiddled.

Maloney unpinned his left sleeve and let it fall. Taking off his high collar he unbuttoned his shirt with dexterity, before shrugging it off of his shoulders. Clad in a white singlet his proportions were revealed. Massive shoulders and a right arm that was well muscled contrasted with a shrunken left arm, the elbow was present but about an inch below the limb ended in a stump.

The doctor, white coated and greying, was thorough in his examination. He poked and prodded at the stump of the man’s arm with a small metal spike. Occasionally he stopped his prodding and altered something on his lenses. A wire led from this spike to a brass gauge, with numbers behind a thin needle. Each time he jabbed, Maloney winced and the needle jumped. The doctor scribbled some notes and removed the headgear.

“Well!” he said, “The nerves are in good order.”

“I agree,” said Maloney. “I felt each stab of that thing.”

“I’m afraid that was the idea,” the doctor smiled thinly. “It tells me, along with the special filtering in my lenses, that you are an ideal candidate for our latest mechanism.”

Maloney had seen false arms before, ugly things of wood with interchangeable hands for gripping or other tasks. They had leather braces and took hours to fit. He had always thought that he would never wish to be encumbered with one of them. But the man had said ‘latest mechanism,’ maybe it would not be so bad. After all, he had been away for two years, who knew what had been devised.

“Tell me your tale then,” said the doctor. “How did you come to lose the limb?”

Maloney paused, remembering that day; how could he describe it, the heat and the smell of fetid jungle mixed with sweat. And the fear, both his and his men’s, amplified by their togetherness.

“It was in the wars; we were in the Western Isles and were ambushed by wily tribesman. One cut at my pistol arm,” he waved his stump, “my left as it happened.”

The doctor showed interest; in his limited knowledge pistols were a right hand weapon. “Why so?”

The words betrayed his lack of military training, in a world with nearly universal conscription he must have been deferred because of his medical skills. Or perhaps he had family connections.

“Well, I was on the left end of the skirmish line so my right side was blocked by my mate Sapper.”

“Ah, I’m not a military man but I understand.”

“Anyways,” Maloney continued, “the man ran at us with a scream, as they all did. It was meant to unnerve us but after a year of hearing it, we barely noticed. He lopped off my arm and I fell. Sapper raised his pistol and put darts between his eyes which ended his interest in events.” Maloney paused for breath.

The doctor shuddered at the casual description of death and maiming. “Go on,” he prompted.

“Sapper grabbed my arm, what was left of it, and applied pressure. I was fainting but remember his strong grip, ‘We’ll get you out of this,’ he said and whilst he held the vessels closed my mates put a tourniquet on. I fell asleep at that point and when I woke, I was on a hospital ship.”

“So Sapper saved your life then.” The doctor’s voice was admiring. Maloney shrugged his shoulders.

“I had done the same for him more than once and we were comrades; that’s what we all did for each other,” Maloney’s face turned sombre. “It was a grim war, in the shadows and stinking jungles. And all for a few coffee beans.”

The doctor nodded, the news-sheets had been full of the horrors of jungle war and he had seen enough of its wreckage come through his door. But it had given him much valuable experience.

“It sounds trite,” he said, “but the war has been a blessing in a way.”

Maloney turned on him and rose, sarcasm heavy in his voice, “I could have put that in all the letters I used to write, ‘Madam, your son was hacked to pieces today, I’m sorry but it was a blessing.’

“No,” said the doctor, quailing under Maloney’s rage, “you misunderstand me, I abhor the waste of humanity but in the futility of the carnage our knowledge of the human body has advanced. We are able to treat the afflicted so much better because of it. My words are clumsy.”

Maloney had calmed, the man was a civilian so could never understand, but he meant well and was helping in his way. He sat back down.

“I should not lecture you,” he admitted. “I apologise.”

“No need, it was a testing time that civilians cannot understand, all we can do is be grateful and help those who did it for us. And the sharpness of the cut has done you a great service.”

Despite himself and his contempt for the doctor’s attitude Maloney was interested by that comment. “How might that be?” he asked.

“The wound was not left ragged, the nerve ends are clean.” He said no more but turned to his desk, rummaging around in the piles of paper and oddly shaped things.

“Aha, here it is.” He held up a leather hemisphere, polished and studded with brass contacts on the outside. It looked like the bowl of a drinking cup that had been studded with copper nails. Maloney had to ask, “And what would that be?”

“Your future,” said the doctor.

White Bloomers

I haven't posted on here about bread making for a while, since the unfortunate demise of Well Bread! I have been baking for us but not actually posting it.

I have kept my sourdough starters in the fridge and feed them weekly, this creates about 400g of starter that would otherwise be wasted every time I feed them.

I have used this for battered onion rings,

and for biscuits but this week I put it into the bread I was making to add flavour, not for any raising power as I used instant yeast as well. So here it is a mixture of White, Wholemeal Wheat, Wholemeal Spelt, and Rye starters.

weighing in at 360g that gave me 180g each of flour and water.

I simply made my dough reducing the flour and water by these amounts, to keep the same proportions.

Total Ingredients were 1500g flour (180g from starters), 975g water (180g from starters), 75g Olive Oil and 30g each salt and Instant yeast.

After kneading, I left it to prove in my proving oven, where it got a bit enthusiastic,

you can see the marks made by the top shelf where it rose more than expected.

I divided and shaped it into two loaves and left to rise again while the oven heated up. There was good aeration in the dough.

Then I slashed and baked for 30 minutes at 230°C with steam.

The result was a good loaf, and the crumb was perfect for sandwiches and toast.

Quick update

"The Rocks of Aserol," my next novel will be published on September 1st this year. In advance of that, I sent out a few review copies to gauge the response and also to get some feedback for marketing.

And I'm pleased to say that I have my first independent opinion of the story. You may have seen the full review on my website, but if not, here is the last paragraph, written by a guy called Chris Solaas.

"The Rocks of Aserol is an entertaining read, full of intrigue, action, and a liberal dose of steampunk. It is well-written and immersive, with a love story full of romance and rescue. Five Stars."

I'm so pleased with that, it makes the three years since I started writing the story seem like it was worth it. And it makes me want to push on with the sequel.

You can also catch up with the Flash Fiction vignettes from the world of Aserol, three of which have already been published here. The fourth will be posted on June 16th, and then they will appear fortnightly until publication day on September 1st.

There will be more news on pre-orders as soon as the links are established. And of the launch, which I hope to do 'live' on social media if I can.