J. Scott Coatsworth has a new queer sci-fantasy book out, The Tharassas Cycle book four: The Death Bringer.
AIK WILL NEVER BE THE SAME… AND NEITHER WILL HIS WORLD
War is coming. Aik has become the Progenitor, and the Seed Mother has released him to transform the world for her alien brood. Silya and Raven, Aik’s former friends, are the only ones who can save him and the world. But what if the cure is worse than the invasion?
As Silya rushes to prepare Gullton for the battle to come, she’s determined to save as many people as she can. But new crises emerge that demand her attention.
Raven has his own hands full, keeping the dragon-like verent in line, while helping Silya to save the world. But what if the only way to do so is to sacrifice Aik, the man that he loves?
It’s the end of the world … or could it be the start of something new?
About the Series:
The Tharassas Cycle is a four book sci-fantasy series set on the recently colonized world of Tharassas. When humans first arrived on planet, they thought they were alone until the hencha mind made itself known. But now a new threat has arisen to challenge both humankind and their new allies on this alien world.
Excerpt
Chapter One
Regroup
He floated, weightless and naked, surrounded by a reddish light and suspended in fluid. Something connected to his mouth and wrapped around his head, like a lover’s embrace.
He used to have a name. He searched his mind for some clue to his identity. I exist, so I must be someone. Or something.
That made sense, but got him no closer to an answer. He blinked. Who am I?
There was no immediate reply.
He lifted his hand. It was encased in metal. The gauntlet. That much he remembered, though it meant nothing to him. Except… it seemed different, somehow. Thinner.
He moved his arms in the liquid, and it sparkled around him where his shifting disturbed it. The metal extended down his wrist and along his forearm, like before, but now it went farther, around his elbow and up his bicep. He touched it with his free hand.
I can feel it. It was as if the metal had become a part of him, his nerves growing through it. He held out his metallic hand and flexed his fingers. What is it?
We call it uurcaa. It’s a sacred metal—it will protect you, and if your host dies, it will collect and save your soul.He could feel the emotions she held back from him. It is the last of its kind from our homeworld. Like us.
He blinked. Then what am I?
You are my son, Iihil. The progenitor, the one who has come before and the first of many more like you. The voice was deep and comforting.
Mother. Warmth infused him at her voice, and an eagerness to please her.
Still, something wasn’t right. He was more than that. He searched his mind, running up against that stubborn blankness. Somewhere beyond it were the answers he needed.
He’d been someone else. Before.
Who was I? Memories of a face—dark hair, intense eyes that nevertheless twinkled at him. Raven.
It came flooding back to him. His mother. His life in Gullton. Training to be a guard and meeting Raven for the first time. My name is Aik.
He reached for the mask that covered his face. It was suffocating. Something was stuck in his throat, and he coughed hard, trying to force it out, whipping around and causing the liquid around him to flash red in alarm.
Calm yourself. The voice was as thick and heavy as an ix hide, and just as soft and warm.
Aik pushed back. What are you doing to me? I don’t want this! Let me out! He thrashed about, trying to force his way through the suffocating liquid. The metal crept up his shoulder. If it covered all of him, he would be lost.
Calm yourself! It was more insistent this time.
Aik stiffened as an enforced lethargy settled over him. He lost control of his limbs, falling still in his floating prison. The voice pressed against his mind. You’re safe. Be calm, my little one.
He closed his eyes and thought of Raven, trying to stay fixed on that face. I can’t let myself forget again.
Then the world around him dissolved, and he was swept up in a torrent of memories that weren’t his own.
Author Bio
Scott lives with his husband Mark in a yellow bungalow in Sacramento. He was indoctrinated into fantasy and sci fi by his mother at the tender age of nine. He devoured her library, but as he grew up, he wondered where all the people like him were.
He decided that if there weren’t queer characters in his favorite genres, he would remake them to his own ends.
A Rainbow Award winning author, he runs Queer Sci Fi, QueeRomance Ink, Liminal Fiction, and Other Worlds Ink with Mark, sites that celebrate fiction reflecting queer reality, and was the committee chair for the Indie Authors Committee at the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America (SFWA) for almost three years.
Author Website: https://www.jscottcoatsworth.com
Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/jscottcoatsworth/
Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/jscottcoatsworthauthor
Author Mastodon: https://mastodon.otherworldsink.com/@jscottcoatsworth
Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/jscottcoatsworth/
Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8392709.J_Scott_Coatsworth
Author Liminal Fiction (LimFic.com): https://www.limfic.com/mbm-book-author/j-scott-coatsworth/
Author QueeRomance Ink: https://www.queeromanceink.com/mbm-book-author/j-scott-coatsworth/
Author Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/J.-Scott-Coatsworth/e/B011AFO4OQ
The Death Bringer Excerpt
“Where is she???” Kerrick stormed through the Temple, looking for Silya. Surely she hadn’t already left. I can’t be too late.
The Temple was almost empty. The few sisters still walking the halls glared at him or ignored him. All of them were heading downstairs to the hoped-for safety of the caverns.
The power was out too, of course; the ubiquitous electric lights off. Gas lanterns lit the way every ten meters or so, leaving broad gaps of darkness.
He took the main stair two steps at a time, going against the tide, anxious to find her. At the top, he tried the long talker. “Silya, where are you?”
He waited for an agonizingly long minute, but there was no reply. She must have been out of range. He slammed it back into its holster. Damned things are useless.
“Ser Kek!” Dor’s voice was unmistakable. It stopped him in his tracks.
He spun around, seeing her leaning out of a doorway. Silya’s office. “Where is she?”
“She’s already gone.” Her voice held a mix of regret and awe. “You need to calm down. You’re scaring the few sisters who haven’t gone downstairs yet. Including me.”
“Sorry. Am I too late?” He put his hands on his knees, breathing heavily.
“Yes.” She approached him, putting a hand on his shoulder.
He shook his head. “I have to go after her.” I can’t believe she left without me. Then again, she was who she was — strong-willed and carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. If she thought she could help, she threw herself into the task with a zeal that amazed him.
“The verent riders are all gone, and I doubt you’d be able to get one of the uncompanioned ones to take you.” She looked him up and down. “You’re a mess, my fine Guard. Come into my office.”
Reluctantly he followed her into the small room. It was meticulously organized. Shelves lined the walls, filled with all manner of things — books, strange sculptures made out of a black, shiny rock, several vases, bottles, wooden boxes, and an assortment of other riff-raff. Neat stacks of hencha paper filled one side of her desk, held in place under a polished stone paperweight. A tray with four ceramic mugs and an akka pot sat on the other. A narrow window let in some natural light.
“Have a seat.”
He slumped into the wooden chair, defeated. “I came back as quickly as I could —”
“She just left. When she gets it in her head to do something …” Sister Dor shook her head, admiration and frustration visible on her face in equal parts. “There’s not much more to do here. We’re shutting down the Temple and sending the last of the sisters to the safety of the caverns.” She poured a mug of hot akka, the steam pouring out of the spout with the brown liquid. Its rich smell filled the room. “Drink this. It will help you get your wits about you.”
He took it gratefully. “I have to find a way to go after her.”
As if to emphasize his words, the ground shook ominously underfoot.
He held the cup aloft until the shaking passed to keep the hot liquid from sloshing onto his lap, and then took a long sip. “Did Chala come back?”
Dor frowned. “I haven’t seen her. I thought she was with you?”
“She was, but she had to take her verent out to the dam to help open the floodgates.” He hoped she was all right. If she was here, she could take me.
He got up and went to the window, looking out at the darkening hencha gathering. He took another sip of the hot drink. It calmed his nerves and warmed his stomach. The plants below rustled restlessly, as if they knew what was coming. Maybe they do.
In the distance, on the southern edge of the gathering, the practice field sat empty, save for the little flying machine. “That’s it — the flitter!”
Dor put a hand on his shoulder — a feat for someone a third shorter than he was. “We’d have to find Fen’Ost, and I’m not sure where he ended up, to be honest. He has family down on Redhawk Spine —”
“I could fly it.” He drained the cup and set it back on its tray.
“You? Have you ever flown one before?”
He nodded, closing his eyes and trying to remember the early days of his Guard training. “I flew the city one, once. And I watched Fentin take this one out to visit the ce’faine.”
It could work. It was certainly better than sitting here on his hands while Silya went to fight the invaders. Did you send me to the dam to keep me out of harm’s way? It would be just like her.
Sister Dor frowned. “Are you sure? It’s a complicated machine.”
He nodded. “I have to. Where’s Elleck?”
“I heard you were back.” His sister stood at the door, her long braid wrapped around her waist. “What’s this foolishness about taking a flitter ride?”
He grinned, setting down the cup and bounding across the space between them to throw his arms around her. “Just the person I wanted to see. Want to do something absolutely crazy with me?”
“Of course.” Elleck squeezed him back. “What are sisters for?”
Kerrick felt almost happy, for the first time in days. “Let’s go then, before I come to my senses and change my mind.” He turned towards Dor. ‘Mim Ala, is there any more of that bandy pulp to be had?”
Dor nodded. “Come on. We can get some in the kitchen.” She got up, wincing. “We can get ourselves some supplies too.” She led them out of the room.
“We?” He exchanged a puzzled glance with his sister.
“Against my better judgment, I’m coming with you. With a blindfold on, because I can’t imagine you’re as good a pilot as Mas Ost, and he left me sick to my stomach for half the day.”
“Are you … sure?” He followed her down the hall.
She stopped, nodding slowly. “Silya’s not facing this alone. I let her ground me from her little verent joyride, but at least the flitter has a nice seat inside.”
He nodded. “You should be there with her. She needs you.”
“That, my boy, has never been in doubt.” She patted him on the shoulder. “Come on. The war’s not going to wait for us.”
Inside half an hour, they had smeared themselves with the sticky-sweet substance and had gathered a few supplies.
They boarded the little craft solemnly.
He surveyed the controls, trying to remember what he’d had to push and pull during his limited flitter training.
After a few false starts, he found the right combination and lifted them — shakily — into the sky.
