In my never-ending quest to uphold a reputation, I tend to look upon Valentine’s Day with all the warmth of the Winter Warlock. Try to give me a choo-choo and I will sic my monster trees on you.
The thing is, beneath my wintry fortress, I can be a bit of a softie. Despite my curmudgeonly self, I appreciate the people in my life: friends, family, social media peeps, geeks and readers alike. I am grateful.
So, I’ve decided to show my love with a book sale. Depending on what you’re into, it might not compete with chocolate and roses, but hey, that shit’s expensive (especially on Valentine’s Day). A story lasts forever. Dark stories about wizards, warlords, fiends and shadows last even longer. Heh.
February 13-15, all the books in my epic fantasy series the Chronicles of Ealiron will be on sale on Amazon. The first four of these books are normally $4.99.
Want some more chocolate? A Northward Gaze will also be free! In this gothic fantasy tale, an old forest with a dark history, a tryst with an elven lord and a series of grisly, unexplained deaths drives a woman into the labyrinth of a faerie curse put on her bloodline in a centuries-old crossroads bargain.
See? Softie. And choo-choos are cool–especially those elven-made ones.
I love this time of year. And there’s a new moon at that, which is cool. What better time to say THANK YOU to my readers, followers, writers and peeps by offering a present? Through October 26, you can get Outpost, Book One in The Fylking, on Amazon for free. First time ever. It’s fantasy, it’s epic, it’s dark. It features a backdrop of Norse mythology, some nasty villains, an army of draugr and other malevolent fae creatures, witches, wolves, ravens and heroes with interesting skills.
Yeah, and a cat named Pisskin. (You didn’t think you were getting away with an epic tale that doesn’t involve a cat, did you? Tsk.)
Outpost, Book One in The Fylking. In a war-torn realm occupied by a race of immortal warlords called the Fylking, trouble can reach cosmic proportions. Using the realm as a backwater outpost from which to fight an ancient war, the Fylking guard an interdimensional portal called the Gate. The Fylking’s enemies, who think nothing of annihilating a world to gain even a small advantage, are bent on destroying it.
After two centuries of peace, the realm is at war. A Gate warden with a tormented past discovers a warlock gathering an army that cannot die. A King’s ranger is snared in a trap that pits him against the Fylking’s enemies. And a knitter discovers an inborn power revered by the gods themselves. Caught in a maelstrom of murder, treachery, sorcery and war, they must rally to protect the Gate against a plot that will violate the balance of cosmos, destroy the Fylking and leave the world in ruins.
Hi beautiful campers. Well, the world hasn’t ended yet, so how about a great deal on a fantasy novel about a dark, lawless bastard who gets pushed too far and decides to save the day—against his better judgment, of course. And so it begins.
In the Chronicles of Ealiron, the Old One is a primordial goddess of nature, life, death, and transformation. Often referred to as Maern, which means “mother” in the wizard’s tongue, she is unknowable in her true form, but perceived as the concept of the Triple Goddess, a being that comprises three aspects of the Divine Feminine integrated as one: Maiden, Mother and Crone. These aspects exist and are manifested in all things, whether nature, events or the shadows of the psyche.
In the world of Ealiron, wizards govern balance in the realms and gods walk among them; but both mortals and immortals revere the Old One as sovereign. While referred to as a deity, she is more like a force underlying all things. She is inexorable; she is wyrd; she is the void from which all creation emerges. Life always comes, it preserves itself to its own expression, and all things die. She is the power by which consciousness knows itself.
She was the first woman, the only woman, the one all women knew. She was as pure as the first breath, soft as flowers and fresh cream as she yielded to him, her cry blowing through the tree in the swirling language of the lair as he broke through her maidenhead and into the eternal warmth and safety of a mother’s womb. – From The Winged Hunter
The Maiden emerges from the void as new: birth, spring, desire, unfolding. She is the individuality of a bud, an egg or a fresh idea, innocent of darkness. Her light shines like a beacon attracting its own demise, as the cycle begins.
She was all cycles, all changes, all movements in the shapes of waves, circles, wells, and caves protecting the wounded. – From The Winged Hunter
The Mother is the abundance of life. She nourishes, grows, heals and protects. She is the exuberance of a blooming garden in full summer, the blush and glow of pregnancy, the instinct of a mother protecting her offspring and the healing of a warrior’s wounds.
The Destroyer curled her body with supple grace, caressing the depths. She moved up towards the shimmering surface in a silent spiral, hungry and inexorable. To be worthy of providing a vessel in which to hide her child, these mortals would surrender to the forces that gave him life. – From The Gray Isles
The Crone is the Unknown, the Void, Formlessness, that from which all things come and to which all things must return, from a blade of grass to a galaxy. Hers is the power of death, transformation, rebirth and regeneration. All things must pass through the darkness to know the light, and it is usually through her that one can perceive the aspects of the Old One as inseparable. There can be no birth without death; no protection without swords; no healing without destruction; and no innocence that cannot fall. Likewise, there can be no destruction without rebirth. Every phase of life depends on the other.
So I finally got my cats in a row (it’s a more accurate metaphor than ducks, trust me) on BookBub, a good place to find new books and authors, get deals, recommendations, author updates and the like. If you’re into it, feel free to follow me there. I won’t lose you in a creepy forest, I promise. Well. Not right off, anyway.
The Hunter’s Rede, Book One in The Chronicles of Ealiron, where the Otherworld is alive, nature is sovereign and balance is kept by the sword. The books in this series are driven by an assassin named Lorth of Ostarin, a complex character with a bent toward bringing things to their darkest ends. These books stand alone as individual stories that happen in the same world with Lorth and some of the other characters appearing throughout. Each book includes a map and a glossary.
Below is an editorial review of The Hunter’s Rede from Self-Publishing Review. See it on SPR here.
“A lethal warrior without banner or cause rises to heights of heroism he never sought in The Hunter’s Rede by F.T. McKinstry, a dark and thoroughly fun new fantasy saga.
Tapping into the best elements of high-genre writing, with cryptic wizards, dark powers, and jaw-dropping plot twists, this character-driven knockout is a thrilling pleasure to read. The sprawling new realm of Ealiron is ripe for storytelling, and newly hooked fans will be pleased to know this is only the first in a four-part series.
Lorth is one of the most compelling new fantasy characters in recent memory, summoning shades of Drizzt Do’Urden, Aragorn, and other legendary loners from fantasy lit. Not only is he the most feared and well-paid assassin in the realm, having served the Wizards of Tarth for years, but he is a self-taught practitioner himself, which makes him doubly dangerous, and intriguing.
However, when he falls out of favor with those who have newly seized power, and kills one too many of the wrong people, the enemies begin to close in on him from every side, and fall to his blade. An unparalleled hunter being on the other side of the chase makes for exciting reading, as do the visceral battle sequences and graphic details from this author’s slicing pen. However, this novel is not all sword-swinging and sorcery – there is expert plot-crafting at work as well, not to mention multilevel world-building, original rules for magic, and a compellingly dark streak of philosophy.
The exposition is doled out like delectable crumbs, leading readers gradually deeper into this world, but still ensnaring them fully within the first few chapters. A lyrical meditation on darkness within the human soul, peppered with gripping action scenes that feel cinematic in their effortless intensity, this is a must-read work of fantasy, puppeteered by an author with an ear for authentic dialogue and vivid descriptions. The caliber of the writing deserves additional praise, as the dark mood is rarely broken, and every line of prose feels heavy with intention. “As he waited for Death’s exhale,” or “throbbed with prickling fire, like a glowing coal” are just a glimpse of the subtly brilliant lines that tie this novel together.
There is plenty of “journey narration” in an epic adventure like this, but the frequent twists of language and artful descriptions keep even the longest stretches of travel engaging. There are very few weak points in the writing that stand out – self-referential questions, overuse of internal monologue, and occasional lapses in point of view – and there are some overly familiar tropes and bland narration that could use another editing pass, but these issues are few and far between, and pale in comparison to the sincere pleasure of the reading experience. McKinstry has a masterful pen, one born for this niche of darkly epic storytelling.
All in all, this is a stellar first installment of the Chronicles of Ealiron series, with massive potential to be a heavy-hitting standout in the genre.”
The Hunter’s Rede, Book One in The Chronicles of Ealiron.Only wizards and hunters know the true meaning of darkness. Lorth of Ostarin, a highly paid assassin with the rough skills of a wizard and a penchant for bringing things to their darkest ends, is about to discover there are worse things in the dark than him.
Eadred took the orb into his hands. Something glimmered inside, a tiny star tingling in his palms. His heart began to pound as a force gripped his chest, swirling, writhing, searching. Stars, whales, sun and moon. Her wrath boomed across time, shredding the veil. Terns, seals, white horses roaming the cliffs. She wept in the oldest tongue, her grief and desperation raising tempests. The dead, their pale eyes staring. Her child was gone. She crashed the Gates, sending them soaring end over end into the stars. Then she turned, her emerald slitted eyes fixing on Eadred as she raced, spiraling in a black, spiky maelstrom toward the wound in his heart left by a witch.
WIZARD, she roared, splitting sea from shore. – From The Gray Isles
As any writer will tell you, characters in stories take on lives of their own. Imbued with the forces of creation, the psyche is immensely arcane, and the act of creating something, whether it’s music, a painting, a garden, a book — anything, really — is always a bit mysterious. As for characters in a novel, they have a way of appearing in the writer’s imagination of their own accord, with their own agendas. To me, it feels as if they exist already, in a story that’s happening somewhere, and I’m just tapping into it.
The main protagonist driving the books in the Chronicles of Ealiron is one Lorth of Ostarin, a wizard and elite assassin in service to the Keepers of the Eye, an ancient order of wizards who keep balance in the world. He is sent on assignment to a remote northern archipelago called the Gray Isles to discover why another in his order, a fey, volatile wizard named Eadred, broke his vows to the Eye in an egregious breach of conduct he never explained or attempted to defend. Lorth’s task of getting Eadred to tell him what happened, however, goes straight to hell at the outset, spiraling into a manhunt, a costly encounter with a sea monster, and some nasty backwater politics.
With long hair the color of snow, eyes the color of reindeer lichen and a silvery breath of Elven blood in his veins, Eadred is a powerful rogue element, a trickster whose tormented machinations have gained him great knowledge which he uses to help prevent a rising cataclysm. But aside from Eadred’s having been cursed by a witch and later banished to the isles, we never learn the specific events that drove him to forsake his wizard’s mantle and leave a trail of bloodshed and woe over two realms.
Ealiron: The Gray Isles
For years, I thought about pulling Eadred’s backstory from the shadows and writing it into the book, but all I got were vague impressions, almost as if his past was hidden from me and Lorth alike. The book felt incomplete, somehow, until earlier this year, when the mists cleared and I saw not only the old wounds and workings of Eadred’s mind, but also the rugged string of events that made him the madman who appears in the original edition of the book. In a fury I wrote it down, wove it in, had the whole work beautifully edited, and the third edition was born. Huzzah.
For the record, I’ve added this to my Hah! Fuck You 2020 list. It’s a short list, but hey, we’ll take what we can get.
As Vaethir gazed down, torture began to appeal to him. Something involving the souls of warlocks. A rusty sword. Leopard moths. The entrails of horses. Something that would lay this man bare and dissolve the layers of his presumptions. – The Wolf Lords, Book Two, The Fylking
It’s amazing, the things that come up while writing. When I was a little kid, I had some horrid cousins. I was at a family picnic and a leopard moth landed on my arm. This was terrifying enough, but when one of my cousins said, “Oh, they BITE!” I screamed bloody murder, prompting my father to put me in the car to think about this egregious indiscretion.
Enter Vaethir of the Dragon Clan, Commander of Niflsekt Covert Operations, Destroyer of the Math Gate, High Vardlokk of Chaos. Years later, while I was writing The Wolf Lords, this character, an immortal warlock who had infiltrated the world and employed an ancient order of sorcerers to work their unsavory arts on his behalf, grew weary of their tendency to hide things from him. As he briefly considered torture, what did I think of? You guessed it! Add the leopard moth to my comprehensive collection of childhood trauma, a great source of writing material.
What the High Vardlokk of Chaos planned to do with the leopard moth, well, I didn’t go into that. It was just too horrible.
In retrospect, Hypercompe scribonia is a beautiful, harmless creature, unless you’re five and you have evil cousins. Then, we get the warlock involved. Yeah. I showed them, didn’t I.
A wounded immortal warlock bent on reprisal.
An ancient order of sorcerers hungry for power.
Warriors beset by armies of demons and immortals.
And a lonely hedge witch whose dark secrets could change everything.
…If only they could find her.
When I was a kid, the term “introvert” had a negative stigma, like some kind of amorphous, withering social ineptitude or something. Having quite enough insecurities, I limped along thinking that what I now know are classic introvert tendencies as bad, broken, neurotic traits easily written off to being dramatically tormented.
Nowadays, light shines upon introversion as perfectly natural. People are coming forward from the shadows and owning up to it. Dedicated Facebook pages and shit. I like to think of introverts as people who process things differently. There. Vague and yet intriguing. Even so, I still avoided the title, until I mentioned this to my therapist who, bless her soul, leaned forward in her chair and laughed like a harpy. Point taken.
Harpies in the infernal wood, Gustave Doré
So after some research, the most clinically valid “Are you an introvert?” tests I could find, and some soul searching in the dusty crypts of my youth, I joined in the harpy laughter. I’m off the charts, and while I’m still not into wearing the introvert thing around, I have learned to be aware and not bite the hand that feeds me.
Enter my quest to become a 21st century author and bring myself and my work out into the light to be seen. Toward this end, I set out to do things like interviews, ask-the-author sessions, podcasts and the like. (Anyone who gets the introvert thing should be suitably chilled by this.) My first podcast was with Jamie Davis on Fantasy Focus. Jamie is a great guy, he put me at ease and assured me that editing cures all ills. So I jumped in, geek cape flying.
Until Jamie asked me an excellent question. “So tell me about the Otherworld,” he says, with a fascinated smile in his voice. I froze and spiraled to the ground like a hero with a tragic flaw.
The Fool, Rider-Waite Tarot
There is nothing as breathtaking and terrifying as the fall of innocence. This doesn’t just happen once, you know; we’re all innocent of something. In the Tarot, this pattern is depicted as “The Fool.” Here he is, setting off on a new dream, a fresh start, he’s baked by the excitement and hope of it all but oh dear! he’s headed for that cliff edge. And there’s his little dog, the voice of his better sense, nipping at his heels saying, “Hey. Um, for what it’s worth, I think this is a lousy idea…” but who listens to that noise?
The Otherworld. I’ve built fantasy empires around it. I’m half immersed in the real thing. For my own books, particularly The Fylking, I did what many high fantasy authors do and made it vast, complex and dear to my heart — but when Jamie asked me to elaborate, all I could manage was a desolate “Uhh…” It was like standing by a deep, raging river and trying to reach out to catch a cupful. Finally, Jamie rescued me and mentioned the Fae. Oh yes, I said — the river is roaring — but, I’m thinking, but this, and that, and then there’s this other thing — I dropped the cup and watched it vanish — oh gods there’s not enough editing in the world that can save this.
Of course afterward, I spent days spinning up the most spectacular dissertations of the Otherworld you can imagine. But it was too late. The Fool was still falling, deaf to his little dog far above, barking wildly. Or so I thought. It was just fine, of course. As promised.
Now wiser, I did another podcast with the folks at The High Fantasy Podcast. I fretted over things, of course, but none of it stuck. We had an epic geekfest that warmed my soul.
Finally, I was interviewed by the wonderful E.G. Stone, in which we talked about Outpost, Book One in The Fylking. It was great fun.
Otherworld: The vast realm of the unseen existing beyond time and space; the source and reflection of physical events. Inhabited by an infinite variety of beings referred to as Others, including nature spirits, elves, goblins, phooka, planetary entities and other natural forces. This includes the Fylking, who occupy the unseen dimensions and are often, though not always, respected as gods. The Otherworld can be perceived by mortals with second sight, though interaction can be dangerous and is ill advised without training and protection. See also Fylking. See postsThe Phooka, Goblins and Creepy Horses.
Blessed Samhain, by the way. Heed not the laughter of harpies.
A immortal warlock bent on reprisal.
An ancient order of sorcerers hungry for power.
Warriors beset by armies of demons.
And a lonely hedge witch whose dark secrets could change everything.
…If only they could find her.
The word is in from Readers’ Favorite for The Wolf Lords, Book Two in the The Fylking! I am grateful and humbled to have received five five-star reviews. Didn’t see that coming. Here’s some bling, with a link at the bottom where you can read the reviews in full.
“This second novel in The Fylking series exceeded all of my expectations for a fantasy novel. An alluring plot weaves intrigue that tempts you into the world of invisible warriors, magical spells and demons. The characters are so vivid and enchanting, they practically leap from the page. I especially loved the tortured, heartbroken character of Othin, who tries to overcome losing his true love. The author’s writing style is beautifully descriptive with so much detail that it draws you completely into the world of the characters. Her ability to build tension and develop character relationships is extraordinary. I could not help compare the storyline to Nordic folklore. This is a gem of a novel.” – Lesley Jones
“The Wolf Lords is definitely a novel for adults. Its dark themes and strains of graphic violence give it an edge. I was easily invested in the story right from the beginning. The vivid imagery and the realistic descriptions just lured me right in and had me reading on until the very end. The story itself is very complex and has layers upon layers of plot that I loved to uncover. The character development was simply amazing. The Fenrir Brotherhood was an enigma that I was very interested in and I also loved the mystery behind the witch who just didn’t want to be found. I loved the flow, enjoyed the setting, and simply cannot wait for the next novel in the series. Very entertaining.” – Rabia Tanveer
“This epic fantasy is a series that had the same effect The Lord of the Rings had on me. The narrative is focused and the author imagines worlds where conflict thrives easily and creates powerful factions with conflicting interests and characters that are sophisticated. The Wolf Lords explores the role played by The Fenrir Brotherhood, an ancient order of sorcerers with dreadful secrets, in a phenomenal conflict. The action is intense and pulsating and the scenes are so beautifully written that they leave vivid images in the minds of readers. F.T. McKinstry establishes a unique, strong signature in the genre of epic fantasy with a series that will set readers on an exciting adventure.” – Christian Sia
“Written for adults due to its dark nature and graphic violence, this is also a highly political and complex tale… The depth of the reading experience is very worthwhile as author F. T. McKinstry puts a lot into the worldbuilding, lore, and history of this setting, giving traditional fantasy fans a lot to sink their teeth into. Different factions have their own ideas about how the world, and the other worlds beyond it, should be run or destroyed, and it’s this mixture of powerful forces which gives the story its excitement. Overall, The Wolf Lords is a superbly told immersive fantasy novel sure to please hardcore fans the world over.” – K.C. Finn
“This is a story that explores the allure of power and the ills that come with it. Conflict is developed at multiple levels and it is interesting how the author builds segments of power and creates powerful groups to oppose each other. The language is unique and the people inhabiting the worlds the author creates have a unique way of naming things. While the characters are drawn from different worlds, the author imbues them with a realism that makes them not so very different from mortals. A sophisticated plot with compelling characters and gorgeous prose. The Wolf Lords follows the tale of an ancient order poised to redeem a world quickly falling apart. It is intense and deeply moving.” – Romuald Dzemo
The Destroyer of the Math Gate has not been idle in the sun’s turn since he nearly defeated the Fylking, his ancient enemies. Wounded, bitter and bent on reprisal, the immortal warlock has gathered an army. He has acquired a spell that will damage the veil between the worlds. And he is waiting.
The Fenrir Brotherhood is an ancient order of sorcerers who serve the Wolf Gods of the North. Haunted by a dark history, the brotherhood keeps to itself—or so it is generally believed. But the older something is, the more secrets it keeps, and the Wolf Lords have not only unleashed an army of demons across the land, but also let the Destroyer in.
When the Veil falls, war erupts and the realm is faced with legions of Otherworld beings, it is left to a sorcerer hunted by the Wolf Lords and a company of King’s Rangers broken by grief and trauma to find a hedge witch whose secrets could change everything.
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