Magic Below Paris Complete Series Boxed Set (Books 1 - 8): Trading Into Shadow, Trading Into Darkness, Trading Close to Light, Trading By Firelight, Trading by Shroomlight, plus 3 more

by C. M. Simpson

  It reminded me of Michael picturing elves on his dad’s shoulders while being told off, or when I was a kid running over the red earth a few miles south of The Gap just south of Alice Springs. It was a dangerous place out there.

  I hunted alien smugglers, human traitors, and my cousins... with paddy melons. I taught myself how to move across the hot ground in bare feet without leaving tracks – and while avoiding the bulls-head and goats-head burrs – how to keep my head down while keeping my prey, er, cousins in sight, how to plan a rapid paddy melon bombardment, and then execute an escape over rocks and rough ground... and the occasional inch ant nest...– and to return home at dusk and dinner time when the grown-ups were too busy getting dinner and doing other grown-up chores to remember to tell me off.

  And, if I was very lucky, I’d get to catch an episode of Doctor Who on the only television channel we had – the good old ABC. Tom Baker was the Doctor back then, and he remains my favourite today. That series, and that character, has been a major source of inspiration and hope for much of my life and my writing.

  Because I wrote, back then, too.

  Both science fiction and fantasy.

  Science fiction was my favourite genre, and I dreamed of what it would be like to travel out among the stars... because that beat trying to imagine what it would be like to survive a nuclear strike. In the late nineteen-seventies, early eighties, kids in the Alice were very aware of the Cold War and what we called ‘The Space Base’ south of town.

  And we all knew it made us a potential target... whether it really did or not.

  Fiction was a refuge from being afraid, whether I was reading it, or writing it. The worlds in my head were much safer places than the one I lived in... regardless of who got eaten, or whose ship crashed into a swamp of stinging fish, or who was trying to shoot who, or blow who up. In my stories, things eventually went right for people, no matter how wrong they went to start with.

  Like they did for Keill Randor, Douglas Hill’s Last Legionary, or his Huntsman, or the Colsec survivors. Those stories, along with Anne McCaffrey’s and Andre Norton’s fiction were my constant companions, and form some of my fondest memories. Their character’s stand alongside Tom Baker and Jon Pertwee as some of my fondest childhood memories, and their stories were a welcome escape from the hazards of everyday life, where it was hard to not get yelled at at home, or bullied at school, or to worry about what was happening in the world around me.

  Their stories taught me to dream, and to work towards my dreams, to not give up, and to believe in the impossible. When I write, those are the stories at the back of my mind, the stories I hope to find every time I sit down at the keyboard.

  Thank you for coming on this part of that quest with me.

  Author Notes - Michael Anderle

  March 13, 2019

  THANK YOU for not only reading this story but these Author Notes as well.

  (I think I’ve been good with always opening with “thank you.” If not, I need to edit the other Author Notes!)

  RANDOM (sometimes) THOUGHTS?

  So, my colleague (in crime…not really, just thought it sounded fun) just spoke to her memories of Dr. Who, and if that didn’t give away her British background, certainly the other author names she mentioned did.

  It so happens that I am in England at the moment, attending the London Book Fair, and Dr. Who was mentioned yesterday during a business meeting discussing the vast need for IP (Intellectual Property), which television and movie companies are supposedly in desperate need for.

  Personally, I don’t think they need ‘more’ IP, they need to discover the massive amount of IP that is already available. Barring that, perhaps there needs to be a better discovery tool which provides those who need to review the already-available IP in a form (usually graphical) which allows for an easier understanding of the premise.

  For those paying attention, if you want your book to be reviewed more often for video, create a bite-sized chunk to show someone. The days where (most) will read the book are gone, and the chances someone will read it all the way through are dwindling.

  On the positive side, you can be ahead of the game by planning ahead.

  The London Book Fair (for me) is the bigger brother of Book Expo America (New York) for Indie Publishers. I will see this May if BEA has continued to relegate Indie publishers to the sidelines, or if they have figured out that Indie Publishers are just a new generation of publishers whose companies only know the new paradigm of publishing.

  And refuse to do business like the old.

  For myself, I’ve studied major parts of the old system (of which Barnes & Nobles is a major player) and I am working to completely bypass it. To accept returns (a remnant of a problem from the Great Depression in America) is not part of my DNA. I feel that a different type of distribution system can be created to help both parties, and I intend to implement to the best of my abilities a test of this system.

  Will I fail?

  Possibly.

  But if I succeed, we will have changed an industry.

  FAN PRICING

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  Go ahead. I bet you can’t read just one.

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  HOW TO MARKET FOR BOOKS YOU LOVE

  Review them so others have your thoughts, and tell friends and the dogs of your enemies (because who wants to talk with enemies?)… Enough said ;-)

  Ad Aeternitatem,

  Michael Anderle

  Trading Close To Light

  The Magic Below Paris™ Book Three

  1

  Shadow Monster Ambush

  Now you’ve done it…

  Roeglin’s voice whispered through Marsh’s head, and she resisted the urge to give him the finger.

  Not that it was hard to resist. Her mule snorted and stomped as the first shadow monster shrieked their discovery. Marchant needed both hands to control her mount—which was a problem since she also needed her hands to defend herself against the monsters that were now howling through the darkness toward them.

  Mordan’s blatant disgust as the big kat ran beside her was easy to ignore.

  “Ride!” Gustav shouted. “We’ll try to outrun them.”

  “Where to?” Marsh shouted back, but she was already kicking her mule into a gallop, the hoshkat running beside her.

  Behind her, the shadow guards followed them, their mules needing no urging.

  “Mid-Point!” Gustav shouted back. “We’ll hole up in the station.”

  Mid-Point. They’d been planning to go right past it, with Marsh giving it a quick once-over with her ability to sense life. Roeglin and Gustav were confident someone—or something—would have taken it as a home by now, and Marsh agreed.

  The waystation with its protective wall and many rooms and outbuildings would make an ideal lair for cavern creatures. There was probably more than one already living in its halls, and Master Envermet, with his clearing force, was going to deal with it when they came through. Marsh’s and Roeglin’s team were only supposed to scout it, hopefully keeping the hoshkat in check.

  Well, they’d be doing much more than that now, starting by hiding in the gatehouse, followed by hoping they survived long enough for Master Envermet to reach them. There was no way they could defeat the pack coming after them on their own.

  Tell me he’s coming, Marsh thought, knowing Roeglin would pick it right out of her head.

  He’s coming, Roeglin said, but he is a day behind. Even if they ride hard, they won’t reach us for another six hours.

  Six hours! It was an eternity, given what they were facing.

  And then it got worse.

  Hoots and screams came from ahead of them, and Gustav cursed. Mordan snarled in defiance and bounded ahead into the dark.

  “Try to go around them!” he called.

  “And if we can’t?”<
br />
  “We go through.” There was a finality in Gustav’s tone that told Marsh they had better go through.

  They could not afford to stop and fight since it would mean the twenty monsters on their tail would catch up.

  All because she’d sneezed.

  Don’t beat yourself up about it. You couldn’t know.

  But Gustav had told her to stay away from the purple caps, and then she’d blundered right into a patch of them, and been showered with spores and shroom-dust for her trouble.

  They don’t usually grow that high up.

  Roeglin’s mind voice sounded breathless, like he was speaking out loud while riding hard. Except he was only speaking in her mind. How could breathing affect that?

  You’d be surprised. Now, concentrate!

  Marsh peered at the trail ahead; the howls and shrieks were getting closer. She swept her eyes over the terrain on either side of the trail, noting it was too rough to take the mules over—and that was saying something, given how rough the trail had become in two months of disuse. Ahead of them, she could see both the heat and shadow of the monsters gathering to block their way.

  The fiery warmth that was Mordan was working its way around the edge, positioning herself for an attack rather than trying to sneak past. Marsh’s heart sank, and then she had an idea of how to clear the path.

  “Let me ride ahead,” she called, urging her mule to greater speed.

  In front of her, Henri and Jakob guided their mounts far enough apart for her to fit between them, and Gustav eased his own beast over. She noted the slight reduction in their pace, and couldn’t fault them for not slowing more. Instead, she pushed her mule forward and looped her reins around one wrist. It was hard to keep her balance, and Marsh only hoped she could.

  “Don’t you dare!”

  Roeglin’s cry of alarm was accompanied by a hurried snatch at her armor as she went past. Marsh felt the light graze of his fingertips on her arm and then she was through, overtaking Gustav and hoping her mule didn’t stumble as she spread her arms wide and called the shadows to her hands.

  Feeling them come, and fighting to ignore the faint tug of the reins on her wrist, Marsh brought her hands to her chest, gathering the shadows before her. Beneath her, the mule faltered, confused by the mixed signals she was sending to its mouth.

  Marsh dug her heels into its ribs, struggling to concentrate. She needed to focus, to push a wall of shadow before her and use what she had gathered to topple the monsters ahead. As she thought it, she thrust her hands out in front of her, sending the shadows rolling over the creatures and releasing all tension on the reins.

  She also lost her balance, wobbling in the saddle and grabbing at the pommel in an attempt to stay on. Still wrapped around her wrist, the reins drew tight, jerking at the mule’s mouth. If it hadn’t been for the shadow monsters howling behind them or the fact they’d bounded into the middle of the ones Marsh had felled with her wall of shadows, the beast might have stopped.

  As it was, the mule pulled back, fighting the bit and jerking Marsh farther out of the saddle as it leapt over the bodies of the creatures in its path. Marsh scrabbled for purchase, then wrapped her hands in its mane, aware that Gustav and Roeglin were trying to catch up. Aware, too, of the shadow mages and guards galloping in her wake.

  If she fell, she wouldn’t have time to be torn apart by shadow monsters; she’d be trampled first. Marsh didn’t bother trying to control the mule. She just focused on hanging on, glad that Roeglin was quiet. She was also glad that none of the group slowed as their mules raced past the fallen monsters.

  The wall of shadow hadn’t killed the creatures, only knocked them down. It hadn’t even swept them clear of the path, and some of them were starting to stir. Fortunately, her group was farther up the trail and out of their reach when the first one clambered to its feet.

  That didn’t deter them, though. In fact, it had made them angrier than before. With a scream of outrage, the first monster bounded after them. It was so furious that it left its fellows in its wake, but not for long. Soon the rest of them had regained their feet and were roaring in pursuit.

  Mordan had returned to her place beside Marsh’s mule, pacing them easily as they followed the trail around a rock-studded curve. More shrieks echoed from the dark behind them and the sound bounced past, piercing the relative silence of the tunnel leading to the surface.

  What if there are more of them? Marsh wondered, grateful she’d managed to find her balance again. Now, if only she could get back into the saddle before the mule stumbled and threw her completely from its back. As Marsh pushed against the mule’s neck, trying to get back into position, she was startled by the strong forearm that swept across her middle, giving her the boost she needed.

  She didn’t have the breath for thanks, though. That had been knocked out of her by the same blow that had put her back in the saddle. Marsh was both grateful and not.

  Just get your mount back under control, Roeglin told her. She realized he’d come alongside her, while Gustav had gone past and returned to the lead. We’re almost there.

  As tempting as it was to see how the others were doing, Marsh was too busy. Taking the reins in one hand, she disentangled her wrist. It was a good thing she’d done so much riding when she’d been working for Kearick. She’d have been in a lot more trouble if she hadn’t.

  You’d have been on your ass on the floor.

  Roeglin’s comment made her wonder where the shadow mage got the energy to speak.

  You almost fell off.

  Like she needed to be told!

  She hoped the gatehouse was clear, and that their headlong flight didn’t take them through it and into the station beyond. That would put them in the middle of a courtyard surrounded by walls and buildings—and any number of unknown enemies.

  By the Deeps! For all she knew, the waystation was where all these shadow monsters had been making their home, so they might be heading out of the frying pan into the fire.

  “This way!” Gustav shouted, guiding his mule off the trail.

  It was barely warning enough, but Marsh and Roeglin looked up in time to follow, and the rest clattered through the turn behind them, the mules bleeding off speed to make it. The animals’ instincts for staying with the herd were a boon, particularly as they fought to keep up with their leader.

  The turn took them between two tall stands of calla shrooms, momentarily bathing them in pale purple light. Towering outcrops of rock flashed past, and she was just thinking she should be scanning ahead for life forms when a dark shape slammed into the side of her mule. The beast went down kicking and Marsh reached for the shadows, pulling herself from the mule’s back into the darkness above it.

  Ahead of her, Gustav and Roeglin were trying to pull their mounts to a halt. Behind her, Henri was tugging Gerry out from under his mule, while Jakob, Zeb, and Izmay were struggling to remain in their saddles. Beneath her, a shadow monster tore into the soft underbelly of her mule.

  Gouges in her mount’s sides and throat showed where the monster had thrust its clawed hands into the mule as it struck. Dammit! She’d liked her mule. Fury rolled through Marsh, and she pulled a sword from the shadows. Taking a firm grip on the hilt, she angled the point downward, and then she dropped out of the shadows onto the creature’s back, driving the blade into its body as she landed.

  It shrieked and twisted, its cries drawing the attention of some of the monsters attacking the rearguard. Marsh yanked her sword out and stepped back, changing her grip so she could sweep the blade down a second time. As she did, Gustav ran past her, Roeglin hard on his heels. Mordan stood her ground, yowling her defiance at the oncoming horde.

  Only when Marsh was sure the monster at her feet was dead did she join them, the kat bounding ahead of her. The two men were engaging the monsters that had come after Marsh when she’d killed the first. Seeing what they faced, she was relieved to note that these monsters did not share the size or the coloring of the one that had taken do
wn her mule, but not so relieved to hear the sound of more hoots and screams coming toward them.

  “Move!” Gustav shouted as he felled the monster he was facing and then took down one of those blocking Henri’s path.

  The man had one arm wrapped around Gerry’s waist, even as he parried the clawed strikes of another monster. He’d have been in worse shape if the other monsters hadn’t been more interested in the mule than him and the shadow guard, and if Mordan hadn’t intervened. For his part, Gerry had pulled a shield from the shadows and was doing his best to help Henri keep their attacker at bay. From the look on his face, the kat had his eternal gratitude.

  “Move!”

  Roeglin took out the last of his opponents as Marsh reached him, but he didn’t join Gustav. Instead, he pulled a dart from the shadows, sending it through the head of another of the monsters. Marsh raced past him as he pulled a second dart. As she did, another of the mules went down and Izmay tumbled away from it, barely avoiding the claws that lashed out toward her. Mordan took the monster down with a well-timed leap and Izmay rolled clear.

  Again, two or three of the monsters went after the mule instead of the human. That was new, but Marsh didn’t have time to think about it; the horde they’d been escaping was getting closer, and they needed to reach the waystation. She joined Gustav in clearing a path so the others could reach them, relieved when Izmay gripped Jakob by his forearm, pulling him out of his saddle and shoving him clear. Relieved, also, to see Dan taking down the worst of the threats around them.

  Jakob’s mule gave a shrill whinny and tried to bolt past the monsters, only to fall before it had gone more than two strides. Jakob drew his sword, coating it in shadow as he turned to face what monsters hadn’t gone after the mule. That stopped them from going after Izmay long enough for the shadow guard to help Zeb get free of his own panicked beast.