Well, it’s here. Maldene II is the first sequel to the epic first book of Maldene. If you thought Maldene was wide, wild, and adventurous, well I’ve barely gotten started. Look upon that first two-volume book as an introduction, as but the first chapter of a truly mammoth story. Then Maldene II is the second chapter, and it’s even larger in every way than the first.

At 375,000 words, this is even bigger than the first book (actually, that’s bigger than the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy, if you need a proper comparison).  More of the world of Maldene, more of its world-spanning plot, more clues as to what Miro is after, and a quest that begins with a map.

Remember that old map they found back in Thïr Tÿorca?  Well, turns out that was the most important plot point of that entire book (sneaky of me, wasn’t it?), because now it will lead our group of heroes on a journey that will take them from one pole to the other to discover the astounding secret heritage of the world… and Miro’s ultimate goal.  This, while the rumblings of war begin stirring in other parts of the world.

All your favorite characters return, as well as a couple new ones (I’m always adding new characters with each book)- including one you probably wouldn’t expect in this type of story (or rather, what you thought the type of story this book is).  Po-Adar, that mad wizard you only had a taste of, comes into his own in this chapters and the Dragon Lord’s role in things gets even more brutal.  And what about the Hevon Gems?  The Nameless Ones?  Or even Shong and the King’s daughters?  There’s a lot of story coming at you.

So sit back and enjoy the little preview below- taken from the first chapter- then hit up the link to the ordering page or go straight to Amazon.  For now though…

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Excerpt from Chapter One of “Maldene II:  Mysteries of Olde”:

…

“You can tell the women of your village that they are indeed good cooks,” Filmar said formally, pushing the empty plate away from himself on the table, “a finer feast have I not had in a long time.”

“Thank-you,” Dwingale said a bit demurely, as she swept up the empty plates on the table.

“But now there are matters to discuss,” Filmar continued, “although I would not want to spoil Kilgar’s first birthrise party with the presence of such matters.”

“It’s okay,” Eldar said, pinching Dwingale’s rear as she went by him, “he’s outside having fun with the elven kids and Blag-ak. Or rather, they’re trying to teach him how to have fun and he’s trying to teach them how to kill orkai.”

“I saw Quickfoot and Lorel out there with them, Sire,” Starke added a bit formally, “but I haven’t seen Kilinir or Kor-Lebear.”

“It’s us then,” Filmar nodded, “good. To begin then.”

They were in one of the village’s tree houses, woven straight out of the branches of Lindel’s recently regrown forest, the very walls being made of a thick bark, the floor a soft and warm leafy covering. Through a vine-laced window the sounds of children at play filtered in from the outside, a continual reminder of the gay celebration still going on all around them. They were seated around an oblong table, carved with spiraling leafy patterns, Eldar, Sabu, and Sindar at one end, Filmar and Starke at the other, with Candol, Lindel, Mauklo, Bronto, Shong, and Sheil-Bor(h) scattered along between. Dwingale was shuffling plates off the table, with Eldar eyeing her all the time, dressed as she was with a minimum of covering, just brown-green leather covering her chest and middle, and leather leggings around her shins. Eldar smiled as he watched her feminine assets protrude in all the right places, her honey-blond hair falling lightly down upon her shoulders. When she was finished disposing of the plates, she came in and sat down next to Eldar, just as Filmar was starting.

“Several of my father’s scouts have been infiltrating into territories thought heavily influenced by Miro,” he started out, “including Frecaloth, parts of Cenivar, and most of My-Thov.”

“I think the young lad would argue with you about certain parts of My-Thov,” Candol pointed out.

“True,” Filmar admitted, “the Great Desert is the one part of that continent that Miro has never been able to penetrate, thanks entirely to Kilgar’s people, but the mountains especially are a nest of Miro’s dark forces. No one that we’ve sent out has yet come back from there.”

“What do you know?” Mauklo asked with smug politeness. “In the way of useful information, I mean.”

Filmar ignored Mauklo’s tone and continued.

“We know that the Summit Mountains of Frecaloth, the highest range in the entire world, are a-bristle with Traugh and his dragons. Captain Starke’s scouts have taken much risk to spy out their activities.”

“We think,” Starke picked up the explanation, “that he’s getting outside help in increasing the numbers of his dragons.”

“The Dragon Lord,” Sindar nodded.

“Exactly,” Starke agreed, “they appear to be coming in through dimensional portals, adding to the already vast numbers of Traugh’s own brood.”

“Well, now we know what the Dragon Lord’s part in all this is,” Lindel commented. “Sabu, is it possible to hide that many dimensional portals? I would think that the presence of so many would create such a concentration of magic as to stand out like a beacon.”

“Well,” Sabu explained, “dragons are very magical creatures. So much so, that if you keep these portals well spaced from each other in both location and time, that the dragons’ own magical presence could be made to block that of the portals.”

“In other words,” Eldar translated, “yes. Miro can hide them.”

“Which means that there’s no telling how long he’s been importing dragons,” Bronto summarized, “nor how many he might already have.”

“I think we have a vague idea,” Eldar said, his hand finding its discreet way over towards Dwingale’s exposed upper leg. “Some of us were over there on Devoon when we were hunting out our Hevon Gems of Wind. And let me tell you, the sight I saw from atop that peak was rather unnerving. A valley full of dragons- thousands of them- all waiting. And we don’t know how many other valleys that the Dragon Lord had brewing over there.”

“Thousands of dragons,” Filmar pondered, “and if the other reports are to be believed, perhaps hundreds of thousands or even millions of orkai as well.”

“Did you say millions?!” Shong was shocked, “How?”

“A multitude of tiny wars,” Filmar answered, “several local skirmishes all over the world. And with each such skirmish, another town that no one ever heard of disappears, and the numbers of the orkai increase.”

“Then what we saw in the mountains of Catho was not unique,” Sabu observed. “A pit where they convert captured prisoners into more of their kind- it was only one among many.”

“There may be hundreds of such places around the world,” Starke said. “My scouts managed to destroy two of them, at great cost to their own numbers, but I have reports of several others. All hidden away deep within mountains, in dark forests- we even found evidence of one on a small island just off a major shipping lane.”

“All strategically placed, no doubt,” Sindar agreed, “and in places where one might least suspect it.”

“Is that an opinion, or a vision?” Eldar asked suspiciously.

“Partly both,” Sindar answered. “I have a vague feeling of such an orkai-genesis pool near the Great Northern Kingdom.”

“My father’s advisors have suspected the presence of such in the mountains to the north,” Filmar nodded in agreement, “but neither his scouts, nor the dwarves that live in those mountains, have been able to find any sign of them.”

“They’re readying for a strike,” Bronto said, “a big one.”

“It is Mystigir’s contention that he will strike on the coming Donjflou,” Filmar put in.

“But that’s not for another nine rels,” Shong exclaimed, “of what type of war would he take so long to build up his forces for?!”

“The machinations of Miro are long in the making,” Sheil-Bor(h) said calmly, “so too then must his goals be as lofty.”

“He’s right,” Sindar agreed, “until we truly know what Miro’s goals are, we can’t really know the reasons behind his preparations.”

“I would give my eye-teeth to know of what those reasons are,” Filmar said, suddenly putting a fist down hard on the table. “He’s after something big and we don’t even know what it is. It has to be more than just mere conquest of territory.”

“I think we may have a clue as to what he’s after,” Sabu said, reaching inside his robes, “something that I’ve been suspecting more and more is connected.”

All eyes on him, Sabu drew the map out from his robes as he started to explain.

“We found this map in the depths of Thïr Tÿorca,” Sabu began as he unrolled the map, “and it’s been a puzzle to us ever since. We can’t tell how old it is, and fire and acid have no effect upon it.”

“I tried every alchemical process I know,” Eldar put in, “there’s no way of analyzing it, nor of harming it.”

“And that’s not even the puzzling part,” Sabu continued, “the numerous symbols drawn on this map are completely unknown to us. Even the dimensio-books we found on Devoon offer no clue. Only Sindar has been able to get any sense of any impression about any of them.”

“Impression?” Filmar asked, leaning forward in interest. “Explain.”

“That symbol there,” Sindar pointed, “the one that looks sort of like a cowled face. Everytime I study it, I get an immediate impression of death and gloom. From some of the other symbols I get an impression of location. It’s almost as if the writing itself has a psychic component to it. That the very symbols were drawn as much with the mind as with the pen. But I can’t make out more than that.”

“What manner of person could draw with his mind as one would with a quill?” Filmar asked.

“Not person,” Mauklo smiled, “I would say more like people.”

“Uh oh,” Eldar quipped, “our dark friend’s figured something out.”

“Of course,” Mauklo said civilly, “indeed, where would you be without me.”

“I don’t know, but I’d sure like to try,” Shong said under his breath.

“A map always leads to a location,” Mauklo said, “and from the prominence of that one small cluster of symbols there, I’d say that they point the location.”

The string of symbols he pointed to was a right-facing stylized bracket, followed by a triangle containing a smaller triangle, the smaller one’s corners each bisecting a side of the larger triangle, with lines drawn out from each of the larger one’s corners, each bisecting the angle it was within as it went over to touch the side opposite. After the strange triangle was some sort of interlocking angular bracket, facing both left and right. This was followed by a double-looped figure lying on its side, and then finally by a stylized left-facing bracket. Mauklo was pointing to the area on the map that this string of symbols seemed to point to.

“We’ve matched up this map against known continents,” Sabu shook his head, “and if that land mass below is the northern part of Catho, then the point which you now indicate would be right in the middle of the Northern Wastelands.”

“Some of my father’s ships have been by that area,” Filmar put in, “and, aside from the cold and the constant ice-cap, there’s a range of mountains up there that is completely impassible. It’s a small range, but one that makes the mountains on Frecaloth look like a footpath by comparison. There’s nothing up there but more mountains.”

“Perfect!” Mauklo smiled. “Then there’s got to be something up there! Or why else make a map to a place that doesn’t exist if not to point the way?”

There was a brief moment of silence as everyone thought this over. Candol was the first to give response.

“By the eyes of Indra, it does make a sort of sense. But, then what does it lead to? And how do we read it?”

“And you think that this map is somehow connected with what Miro is after?” Filmar asked, after a bit of thought.

“It’s the only thing we’ve found that’s more mysterious than Miro, and perhaps as old,” Sabu affirmed, “but of how to use it or read it, I’m afraid that we’re at an impasse there. I feel it to be a true sasmo.”

“Perhaps then,” Dwingale unexpectedly spoke up, “there is someone else that can help.”

“So,” Eldar cocked an eyebrow, “you can read this gibberish, my sweet?”

“Of course not, my love,” she continued, with a quick shy smile, “I see in it even less than you do. No, I speak of one who is both a person and a legend. Of one whose name has been but vague rumor even amongst the best of sages since memory began.”

“Who?” half the people at the table asked at once.

“The Great Sage At The Foot Of The World,” she pronounced.

“Yes,” Sabu said with some mild wonder in his voice, “I’ve heard of him. It’s said that he knows everything.”

“He’s just a myth,” Lindel protested lightly. “A child’s story for thousands of rels.”

“Even a myth has a basis in fact,” Sheil-Bor(h) pointed out.

“If he does exist,” Sabu said thoughtfully, “then he might indeed know the key to this map.”

“It’s worth a shot, at least,” Eldar shrugged. “Why not?”

“To go chasing after a legend clear across the globe,” Mauklo protested, “is a fool’s errand. We should do something more constructive with our time!”

“You’re against it?” Eldar asked. “Good, that settles it; we’re going.”

Mauklo gave one last huff of protest and then quieted down, scowl on his face.

“Dwingale,” Sabu asked, “where does legend say he’s to be found?”

“All I’ve heard is the Foot Of The World, which would be the Southern Wastelands. Nothing more, other than how hard he is to find.”

“Great, we’ve narrowed it down to the entire South Pole,” Eldar sighed. “Well, at least it’ll make for a good adventure just getting there.”

“It is said that an ancestor of mine once journeyed to see the Sage,” Dwingale said, “to ask of the future of his people. He found the Sage’s home in the middle of the snow when he least expected it.”

“Did he get his question answered?” Shong asked.

“Yes,” Dwingale answered, “he was told that they would come to a great height and then suddenly fall. He returned with mixed feelings over his answer. It is said also that the Sage extracts a great, and often strange, price for his answers. In the case of my ancestor, he never spoke of the price, though he lived to have more offspring than anyone in my entire family.”

Then Dwingale got a suddenly thoughtful look on her face.

“Come to think of it,” she continued, “my ancestry dates back to the very last child he had just before he got killed in the downfall of the Evolins. If he hadn’t decided to breed so much after he came back from the Sage, I may not even exist. Hmm, I wonder…”

“I think we should start an expedition immediately,” Bronto spoke up. “If this Sage can indeed answer the puzzle of that map, then we must find him. This could be our only clue to fighting Miro.”

“When the man’s right, he’s right,” Eldar nodded. “Tomorrow then. Sabu, how far could you teleport us?”

“Not very, I’m afraid,” Sabu shook his head. “I’ve never been to that area of the world at all, and I can’t teleport us somewhere if I don’t know where we’re going.”

“We’ll use our second ship then,” Sindar said, “the first one should be enough to keep the island in contact with the trade routes while we’re gone.”

“My fleet shall patrol by this area regularly,” Starke reassured, “that you may have no fear of your island charges.”

“Thanks, Starke, though I wonder how little we may actually have to worry about them,” Bronto said. “Have you ever seen those Kÿecian in battle? Not to mention the magic that the elves can conjure up.”

“I’ll tell my father about your quest,” Filmar said, “this is definitely something that he’ll find of interest.”

“Who comes along then?” Lindel asked.

From outside, they could hear the sounds of elven children at play, along with the voice of one young Destir shouting playful cries of death, and the bellow of an ogre threatening to bring down a tree in his over-exuberant display of amusement.

“Think it’s safe to bring along Blag-ak?” Eldar asked. “He’s destructive enough when he’s not trying.”

“Once we’re on-board the ship, I can always teleport him in as needed,” Sabu offered, “that way he can still take care of his dragons as we travel.”

“Cute green scaly little things,” Bronto smiled, thinking of the young dragons, “I think one of them has my eyes.”

“I don’t think everyone needs to come,” Sabu offered, “this mission is primarily of interest intellectually, and the Southern Wastelands is only about fifteen thousand miles to the south of us, just at the other end of the Sea Of A Thousand Islands. A good ship and a spell or two, and we’ll be there in no time.”

“The foolish thinking of wizards,” Bronto put in. “When you’re busy casting your spells, who’s going to protect your backs? Who’s going to stop you from getting carried away with intellectual discourse while there’s a metodane coming at you?”

“I should also mention,” Dwingale added, “that when my ancestor left to find the Sage, he went straight south of the old home of the Evolins. While that was relatively close to the Southern Wastelands, it’s also on the other side of the world from where we are now. What with having to go around Frecaloth, that adds about another twenty-five thousand miles or so.”

“Okay, so we’ll have to plan our trip a bit more carefully,” Eldar shrugged.

“And some friends to guard your backs,” Bronto added, fist coming down on the hard-wood table.

A golden coin tossed up lazily through the air, to tumble back down upon an open palm.

“I’m coming too,” Candol announced after he looked at which side of the coin faced up.

“Okay, we’ll start organizing the expedition tomorrow,” Sabu said.

“I’ll tell the ship’s captain about our plans,” Shong said as he started to get up.

“I’ll go tell Kilgar,” Eldar said as he too started up.

“You will not,” Dwingale said, “it’s his first birthrise celebration and I won’t have it spoiled.”

“Are you kidding?” Eldar smiled. “Being told that we’re leaving on an expedition for halfway across the world will probably be the perfect present for that kid. Why, he’ll be the first one on-board the ship.”

“By the beard of Indra, I think he’s right,” Candol grinned as he got up with the rest, “the boy’s ideas of fun are definitely not as are other children’s.”

“Well, I guess so,” Dwingale reluctantly admitted as Eldar put an arm around her waist.

“Come on,” Eldar said softly in her ear, “let’s go tell the kid the good news.”

They all started to file out in groups, walking out into the green canopy outside, down along the walkways suspended between the tall trees. Below they could see the elves at play, scurrying playfully around the large form of Blag-ak, Quickfoot on his usual shoulder-perch. Sabu looked on as he saw an elf in another tree, in the midst of magically gesturing at its branches, urging the branches to grow and twist into another adjoining walkway. He watched as the branches visibly grew by the foot before his very eyes, shaping themselves into the floor and railings of a new walkway. Lindel interrupted him with a tap on his shoulder, as they both then went down towards the forest floor to join the others.

Mauklo took a different turn from the others. He quickly found himself on the other side of a large tree, no one around to observe him.

Two figures then dropped down suddenly to either side of him, down from out of the trees. Kor-Lebear came down to his right, Kilinir to his left, both silent as cats. Kor-Lebear spoke in a soft voice, aimed only for Mauklo’s ear.

“How’d it go?”

Mauklo smiled.

“Perfect,” he said, “all I had to do was protest over going; then they couldn’t be more eager to start off. Eldar himself insisted that we go after my little act of protestation.”

“You knew they’d think of this Great Sage then?” Kilinir asked.

“Of course,” Mauklo answered. “When I saw how impossible that map was to translate, I knew that only the fabled Great Sage is said to know enough to help us. I just had to wait for one of them to think of it and then just offer a little protest to nudge them along the way.”

“You knew that if you’d suggested it they’d never go along,” Kilinir added.

“Correct,” Mauklo replied, “although it took them a few motabs longer to think of it than I’d thought.”

“So, then what is it that you want out of this Sage?” Kor-Lebear asked.

“If he truly is the fountain of all knowledge, then that alone is worth the trip,” Mauklo explained. “Knowledge is power, and I want as much power in my hands as possible before this Donjflou comes. I’ll squeeze that Sage dry of everything he knows before I’m through.”

“Do you need us to come along?” Kilinir asked.

“For now, no,” Mauklo answered, “but if I need to, I’ll send for you. Sabu isn’t the only one to have mastered a teleport spell. For now, I need you two to enhance your reputation.”

“That’s something else I’ve wondered about,” Kilinir asked. “Why should you be concerned about our reputations?”

“Why,” Mauklo smiled, “that much should be obvious. When you two have achieved such a reputation that even your very name invokes fear in certain circles, then just think how much fear I can wield if word were to get out that I control the Black Dagger. People would wonder how much more fearsome than the Black Dagger that I am.”

“Using our reputations to enhance yours,” Kor-Lebear grinned. “Nicely played.”

“Thank you,” Mauklo nodded, “but you’d best get going. I should rejoin the others before anyone gets suspicious.”

“To then reluctantly join up on their mission, I suppose,” Kilinir smiled.

“A very perceptive young lady,” Mauklo admitted.

“Very well,” Kor-Lebear said, “call when you need us.”

Then, in the blink of an eye and a leap into the trees, they were both gone. Mauklo then composed himself, putting back on his I’ll-come-if-I-have-to face, and turned around and walked back towards the main gathering.

Meanwhile, sitting back up in an unseen part of the trees, Kor-Lebear and Kilinir looked down from amidst the cloaking leaves, watching as Mauklo casually walked back to the others.

“What do you think of his plans for using us?” Kilinir asked quietly.

“That he probably has a reason for telling us,” Kor-Lebear answered, just as quietly. “Perhaps to impress upon us that he can take us out if needed, so that he’ll have us nice and trained by the time he needs us.”

“I don’t think I like being a lap-dog.”

“Neither do I, but it suits our purposes for now.”

“So then we go independent when we’re able?” Kilinir asked.

“Not exactly,” he gave a sullen grin, “we just continue to stick strictly to our code of honor as the Black Dagger; never allowing one to buy out a pre-existing contract once it’s been made- no matter who it is.”

“Even if it’s Mauklo?” she smiled.

“That’s why we make such a good team,” he put a lightly massaging hand on her thigh, “we’re just so much in synch.”

“I always used to tell my mother that someday I’d grow up to become the best at something,” she smiled, covering Kor-Lebear’s hand with her own, “I just never told her at what.”

A momentary breeze rustled through the trees as a small bird came down to land upon a branch nearby the two figures. By the time the breeze had died down, there was no one there to keep the bird company.