I’m very excited to share the book trailer for Wothwood. It’s definitely a challenge to boil down the book in a short story, but I’m hoping to at least pique a little bit of interest.
What to expect? Heroes, battles, revenge, strange lands and strange people.
What might be unexpected? The monsters are beyond your garden variety fantasy. I joke, but it’s true: I’m allergic to dwarves and elves and orcs, so you won’t be seeing any of that sort of thing. You will also have a narrative dominated by two women. There’s a lot this novel has to say about masculinity in fantasy, but I’ll leave that to another post later on.
Take a look and tell me what you think. I can’t wait to share more. From Chapter Five: Forged:
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Per Madoc pulled back the white fur to display two narrow, perilously sharp swords. They were similar to the long glass-bladed daggers she’d used day in and day out during her training, but they shone like starlight. Even without touching them, she could feel how cold they were, could see the fine etching upon the blades. Feathers. A burst of them up and down, as if they had been taken by the wind. They were the same kind of blades her mother had, the same she’d carried into the Wothwood.
The same feathers in her dreams.
She felt the hair stand on the back of her neck seeing them.
“Your mother had a set, much like these, of course, but they were lost with her,” said Per Madoc. “I had thought the schematics lost, but a few months ago while I was cleaning out the last of Cormac’s effects, I found the original schema for the kando blades, his own design of course. And I had not destroyed the massive blade I was working on for Braig Vann, so I decided — since you are the true mormaer — it was yours by right.”
The true mormaer. The way he said it…
“You’re not saying anything,” Per Madoc said, a note of hurt in his voice.
Glannon found her mouth had gone dry. She was pulled toward the kando blades, wanting to touch them more than she had ever wanted to touch anything in her life. Knowing that the grips would feel perfect in her hands, knowing that she would never want to let them go.
“But I am a mormaer of peace,” said Glannon, clasping her hands behind her back to prevent herself from snatching them up. “It’s been said, time and again by the council that there is no need of me to wield weapons of war. We are not at war. Marchan Vann issued the treaty with Theria and now…”
Per Madoc turned away from her and picked up one of the kando blades, slid his finger down the shaft. He did not look jealous of the weapons, but Glannon thought he looked a little sad.
“The time of peace is over, Glannon Bel, and there are strangers going into the Wothwood. Others who would take the place from us,” Per Madoc said, not looking at her. Still staring at the knives, still running his fingers along the blades, impervious to their biting metal.
