In The Service Of Evil 2: Wind Blown Ashes Now Live.

Rich Kids succeeded more often than poor, but why

There is very little debate that a rich kid chances of success are hugly greater than a poor kid. But the why and that and what to do about it are in question.

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Editorial: If you are born poor, your chances of success are a fraction of those born rich.

That the rich kids are going to do better is not in disputed. But the why of it is.

What is your opinion of what will work best on Mars?

There are lots of ideas on how Mars will be governed. Most reflect what people think should be forbidden or controlled. But the purpose of a government is to enable people, and that is what the most successful ones do, they enable the most people. Enabling, not restricting, will be key to having a successful mars Government.

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What kind of Government will Mars have?: One Possibility

Many factors will determine what kind of Government a Mars colony might have. Here is a short exploration of what might happen.

Why reading the free episodes on Kindle Vella matters.

Criticism on how bad the stuff on Kindle Vella is, is common, and much of it, accurate. Right along with its established serial authors, with well-honed story-telling skills, are even more authors still learning to tell good stories, and the craft of writing. But writing is just like any art and takes years of practice to do well. Any incentive to keep at it helps keep the writer at it. Amazon…

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A Fall of Ashes: First three chapters now up.

Chapter three. Read them for free on Kindle Vella or Patron https://www.patreon.com/posts/fall-of-ashes-01-77075289

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Kerric the Mercenary: Episode 7, Run to DeSon

Kerric and his Warcat took the lead. At the edge of DarkGate, he turned Akrus off the road and headed due west. The moment they made it to those dark woods, he said, “Run,” and all Akrus’s anger vanished. He was off as if shot from an arrow.

At home, north of the Black Sand, running was dangerous. There, except for hunting sprints, if he ran, it was in fear, and he was running for his life. It wasn’t until Kerric brought him south of the Black Sand that his war cat had a chance to run full out without fear. Now, only mating and hunting brought his Warcat more pleasure. It was a pleasure Akrus rarely got to indulge in and the perfect reward for being dragged out of his rest.

Like the larger breed of Warcats in the north, the ones his men rode were built for running for days despite that not being a good idea in the north. Except the Tolar, nothing in the south could escape them over the long run, and very few on the short. Only experts here would pick up that this wasn’t the breed you found in the far south in the forest bordering the frozen waste. Those were a patchwork brown, instead of dark brown with black stripes on their hind quarter, and only three-quarters the size of the Warcats Kerric’s men rode. Nor were they as fast or have the endurance of this northern breed.

Yet those southern beasts stilled killed more of their own riders than the northern ones did, making seeing a rider a very rare occurrence in the far south, and nearly legendary this far away from that icy waste. That was, until Kerric, and his band arrived.

Kerric shifted his weight. With a snort, Akrus stopped trying to outrun the others, but kept his pace high enough to make them work at keeping up. They might have longer legs, but Akrus had more muscle. That meant more speed in a run among Warcats.

They hit the edge of the gorge and Akrus leaped from the side to the branches of those massive trees. The others followed. Riding the treetops might be common in the jungles north of the Black Sand but was unheard of here. That shortcut across the gorge instead of around it, as all others had to travel, was why his men would get there before the sun came up, despite having to saddle them before riding out.

Akrus leaped to the next tree, and then the next. Even in the dark, Warcats never jumped to a branch that can’t whole their weight, though sometimes, they bend more than their riders anticipate. That bending and springing back is what the Warcats used to move forward with such speed. It took all the rider’s concentration to stay in those saddles and not one of them could have done so the way Kerric did, without the thigh straps. That springing motion was why in the trees, Warcats move only a little slower than their ground eating normal pace.

Kerric spared enough attention from his own ride to see all of his men having a harder time of it than they should. It was one more sign that they had lost too much of their edge. The gorge was deep and wide, but not so much so that those Warcats could not cross it in half the night.

With well over a candle mark before even the false dawn, his men were on the road to the main keep of DeSon, something that would have been a four-day trip by the road using caravan wagons.

Tantos came out of the woods as they moved closer to the keep. “I found Corman camped on a woodcutter’s track nearing the Aring-DarkGate Road. He’s taking his time and will hit that road early morning tomorrow. If he pushes it, he could make Aring by late night, but more likely is planning another night on the road.”

Kerric nodded and looked over the lands of his prospective employer.

Episode 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6,

World-building: Kara

Spoiler alert. This contains some information that hasn’t come out on the Kindle Vella, or Ream versions of the Kara stories, though I have avoided disclosing major things. I began the first Kara story back in the late nineties. It was originally just titled Kara, though I changed it to Kara Discovered when I expanded my focus. It started out as a story merging two ideas in science fiction. What…

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Chapter 22 of Vikings of Asgard is now live.

While Don is off to his own barony, Bob is keeping an eye on the newest baron, a ruthless man from the Philippines, with hopes of having an ally. Read it on Kindle Vella or patreon.

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Flash Fiction: A Question of Immortality

“Stop burning the body,” demanded Shia, leading her guards into the smoke-filled chamber. “Your highness? Your father bade me destroy this thing,” the large, bare-chested priest responded in surprise, dumping red glowing coals from his shovel. “And you’ve been trying for four moons,” she snapped. “She still starts growing flesh the moment you take her bones out of the fire?” In a whisper he…

Flash Fiction: A Question of Immortality