My snippet this week is the opening passage of a new project I’m working on. You may have heard of or read the books of Chris Fox, military science fiction writer and author entrepreneur. Chris is putting together a science fantasy anthology and he’s invited submissions, so I thought I’d try my hand.

I don’t generally include fantasy elements in my books. Science fiction is interesting and exciting enough for me without any need for magic or mythical creatures, but the opportunity to have my work included alongside that of some great and very successful writers was too good to pass up.

Without any more ado, let me present you with Star Mage Exile. 

Star Mage Exile

Chapter One

Carina slung her Jensen 31 across her back and crawled beneath the remains of a desk. She had to bend low to avoid snagging the weapon on broken wood. The door to the room was slightly ajar, and from outside came the whispers and hisses of pulse slugs and the stamp of running, booted feet.

She hated hiding in the middle of a firefight but if she didn’t do something soon, it would be all over for her and her merc band, the Black Dogs.

Easing into a spot where she was hidden from view, she bit on the fingers of her silicon mesh glove, pulling it off. She dropped the glove and worked on the other until both her hands were free. Removing her protective gear was reckless, but she needed bare fingers to tell if the wood splinters from the desk were real. If they weren’t, the Cast would not work.

Of course, casting brought its own risks. She faced slavery and torture if anyone found out what she was about to do. Not for the first time, she wondered whether being a mage was more of a curse than a blessing. On the other hand, saving her and her merc buddies’ lives would be a definite benefit.

Someone burst in and the door banged against the wall as it flew open. Carina heard the fizz of a pulse round and a body hitting the floor. She peeked from underneath the desk. A fellow merc was lying flat on his stomach and facing away from her, a smoking hole in his neck at the weak point where his helmet connected to his armor. The man trembled once then was still.

Though she couldn’t see his face, she recognized the dead man. It was the latest recruit, his new career cut short by the suicide mission they’d been sent on.

Another figure ran in. Carina saw the calves and boots of one of the attackers. She shrank backward and lifted her Jensen, resting her finger on the trigger. If the soldier looked under the desk, he would receive a pulse round in his face. But the legs turned and left, and she heard his footsteps running up the stairs to the next level. It was a lucky escape, but her luck wouldn’t last much longer.

She picked up a splinter of wood from the desk and rubbed it between her fingertips. She peered closely at the fibrous strands then closed her eyes to concentrate on their texture. The wood fibers were fine but not fine enough, and they were too smooth. The wood was fake. She threw down the splinter in disgust.

Her canister of base elixir was missing only one essential element: wood. The real stuff had proven hard to find on this desert planet. Of course, even if she found some natural wood to add to the elixir, it was no guarantee she would be successful. There had to be fifty or more enemy soldiers in the embassy. She’d never cast at so many, but she had to try.

Crawling out from under the desk, Carina scanned the room. Before it had been blown apart, the place had been luxurious. Some kind of animal skin buffed to a fine sheen had covered the walls, though now it hung in tatters. A delicate translucent mineral, intricately carved, had supplied the window lattices. Broken pieces of it were sprayed over the floor.

The room must have belonged to a high-up embassy official, maybe even the Matahman ambassador—the kind of official to own real wood artifacts.

The sounds of the struggle for possession of the embassy were growing louder. Fighting was going on in the stories above and below. Skirting the body of the fallen recruit, Carina closed the door and went over to a cabinet. The door was secured, but a single pulse from her Jensen melted the lock. She levered the door open with the muzzle.

Reaching inside, she riffled through bottles of the local liquor, beakers, hard copies of documents, expensive-looking jars of some kind of local food or ointment, and boxes of different sizes. Carina pulled out the boxes and tried to open them, but they were fastened shut in a way she couldn’t figure out—possibly DNA or electronic locks.

She had no time for cracking fancy locks, neither through ingenuity nor casting. After a brief glance at the door, she stood and brought the butt of her Jensen down hard on one of the more fragile-looking cases, smashing it apart.

Her luck seemed to be holding. Inside the case was an oblong object. From the complex design carved at one end, she guessed it was some kind of seal or stamp. More importantly, the artifact displayed the finely grained effect of wood. Carina drove down the butt of her Jensen again, the blow jarring her arms.

She’d split the seal at one end. Squatting, she dug her fingers into the split and ripped the object apart. She extracted a thin splinter and rubbed it into fine strands.

From outside came the sound of footsteps running downstairs, getting nearer. No time remained to figure out if the seal was natural wood and not another clever synthetic. Carina took out her canister of elixir, unscrewed it and dropped in the strands. She swirled the mixture once, brought it to her lips and swallowed a mouthful.

The elixir was foul-tasting, as usual, but Carina barely registered the taste anymore. Her eyes were closed and she was already drawing the ideogram in her mind, willing herself to ignore the steps that were drawing closer.

Creating the ideogram required the utmost concentration. The Cast was useless unless the strokes were completed perfectly and in the correct order. One after another they appeared in her mind’s eye.

Just as she drew the final stroke, someone ran in. Carina’s eyes flew open and grabbed for her weapon, which was slung over her shoulder, but the newcomer was merc officer Lieutenant Torres.

“Come with me, Lin,” the lieutenant said. “Up to the—”

Torres fell forward, the back of her helmet a ruined, burning mess. She squirmed at Carina’s feet. Behind her, framed by the door, was the enemy soldier who had shot the lieutenant at point blank range. His weapon was now aimed directly at Carina. She didn’t stand a chance. The soldier grinned.

Then the Cast began to work.

Go here for Star Mage Exile Snippet II.