The Official Release Date Is…

Well, if you read my last blog a few weeks back and saw the cover reveal, you knew this was imminent, Fellow Creatures.

 

And, if you’re part of my newsletter, this is old news.

 

But Under a God-Made Mountain, my brand-new, standalone, horror-fantasy novel has an official release date.

 

November 21st! 

 

It’s also officially up for pre-order on Amazon!

 

Gulp… That date is super close! And it’s always scary to push a new baby out of its nest.

 

But I think this one is ready. I’ve been toiling with it for over a year now, and it’s time for it to meet the rest of the world.

 

What’s it about? Well, here’s the current blurb you’ll find on Amazon.

In the halls of a living nightmare, survival means confronting the darkness you cannot escape.

Melk, a tamer of lions used to fight for his nation’s crusade, has lived a life of violence. When an act of defiance seals his fate, he is banished to Mount Methugarna, a labyrinth said to be home to unspeakable horrors. 

Beneath, five other criminals await the same doom. Together, the depraved company must navigate the mountain’s cursed depths. 

But survival is not the only test—something far worse than death stalks the corridors. As Melk battles the monsters outside and within, he realizes that his greatest enemy may be the darkness that has always lurked inside his soul.

Under a God-Made Mountain is a fast-paced, horror fantasy journey through the darkness that lurks within us and beneath our feet that would appeal to fans of the horror in Pan’s Labyrinth and the coming-of-age story of The Book of Lost Things.

 

There you have it. I hope your interest is piqued. If you want to see more of the book before the release date, shoot me a message and I’ll be happy to hook you up.

 

So mark it on your calendars, Fellow Creatures, and prepare to enter the unholiest mountain in Elsewhere (at least for now!) 

 

I think you’ll be surprised what you find there.

 

Here’s a little snippet before I leave you:

 

“It’s real.”

The voice came from the stone itself. It sounded like shale skittering beneath boots. Melk didn’t know its origin, thought it was the mountain talking to them, but then another figure materialized from the shadow. Only inches taller than the Shepherd on all fours, she was hunched and crooked, her antique flesh spotted from age. She braced herself against the nearby rock. Injured.

Her hair was so long. Melk wondered if she had cut it at all for the entirety of her life. When she pushed it aside she revealed eyes as dark as flint. It was as if the stone were her parent.

“You know it is real. You feel in your bones, don’t you? You know it in your hearts, yes? It’s real,” said the old woman.

“By the Maker, they’ve condemned a grandmother to be fixed?” said Belwin.

The Doomless stepped toward her. “Are you hurt from the fall, mitha?”

“Mitha?” The woman cocked her head and laughed, a booming noise for something so small. She cradled her arm. Walked forward with a limp.

“You know her?” said Belwin.

“No,” said the Doomless. “Just trying to show the old woman some respect.”

“Mitha. The Sacred Mother? She is here?” said the blinded Shepherd, his head bobbing about like a bird’s, restless, attempting to find the source of such a disturbance, such a surprise.

“It’s just a name,” said the Doomless.

The old woman limped forward. “I’ll be your Mitha if you’ll have me. We’ll need one here.”

“Where is here?” said Belwin.

“Methugarna.”

“I’ve heard that name before,” said Thip. “Where?”

“Methugarna. The prison of shadows. Where the Maker cast the armies of His enemy after the Ascension,” said the Shepherd.

“I’ll not listen to the fables stuffed from your holy books, Shepherd,” said the Doomless. “Certainly not in this place.”

“Then what is it?” said Mitha.

“I’ll tell you what this is.” The Doomless sauntered over to the ice wall and picked up the stone he’d been using to help him climb. “The easiest escape I’ve ever seen.”

The Doomless went to plant his pick, but Mitha’s voice stopped him.

“There is no way out up there. You somehow summit the wall and you’ll face winds. A cold like no other. One that will break you before you even hope of seeing city lights again.”

The Doomless looked at the stone, looked at the ice. A chill swept down through the hole as if to exemplify the old woman’s words, new flakes of snow came with it.

“Then what?” said Belwin. “We’re trapped here?”

“Trapped,” said Mitha. She held her arm closer to her body. It looked limp in her hand. Broken in a few places from the fall, yet she did not complain. “No. That would mean there was no way out, but there is.”

“But you just said if we climbed the ice we’d die,” said Belwin.

“And you will, but that is not the way out I name.” 

“Then where is it?” said Thip.

The old woman stepped aside and pointed into the darkness at her back. The shadows collected so thickly it looked as if it were a sable curtain draped over the side of the cavern, a pit where the moonlight overhead was thrown to be buried. “In there.”  

“In there?” Belwin gave a sarcastic grunt. “Are you joking?”

The Doomless squared up to the shadow. His fist clenched tightly around the stone as if it were a dagger. “What’s in there?”

Mitha looked into the darkness with them, as if it were a mouth speaking, and she could translate its words. “The Lord’s test. The start of a path that leads down the throat of the mountain, into its gut, into its heart. Into its very soul. A labyrinth that will lead us to an exit.”

“An exit? Where?” said Belwin.

“Why, it’s arse of course.” Mitha showed a smile. Her teeth were brown and jagged, like stalactites. “Somewhere at the bottom of the mountain, there is freedom again.”

“So we just hike down a few miles and we’re done?” said Thip.

“You make it seem like it is a casual walk down the Red Road.”

“Is it not?” said Belwin.

“The enemy of the Maker is here,” said the blinded Shepherd. “The Animal is within.”

The Doomless turned on the Shepherd. “What did I tell you about your religious shite—”

“He is right,” said Mitha. “The ex-priest speaks the truth.”

The Doomless jutted his jaw. “How do you know this?”

Mitha laughed. “Look at me, sire. The last grain of my hour glass is nigh to fall. I’ve had plenty of time to hear the stories of the world. To sort out what is true. What isn’t. What lies within is dark territory. The darkest, perhaps. It’ll be no easy path. One wrong step and you’ll fall into the clutches of those who’ve only known shadow. Those who have been born and bred within it. Those who have only drunk a sweet and endless night from the mountain like it ‘twas their mother’s tit.”

The shadow seemed to reach for them, uncoiling its black fingers like a hand inviting them through its door, and if they were to accept, if they were to go inside, they would meet properly. Understand it wholly. Know it, and it them.

A proposition that made Melk quiver, though, he’d never let the others see it happen.

“Ain’t scared of the dark,” said the Doomless.

“What dark have you known, sire?” Mitha took a step closer to them. “The one that slipped into your crib when the sun went down? The inside of the closet you hid in as your da taught your old lady a hard lesson? ‘Tis not the same. Not the same at all. In that dark, there is still hope of light. A candle is a mere room away. A lantern is always close. Your ma’s arms, just a bed next door. Even those raised by the street still have the luxury of the city’s glow. But down there, within, light is the rarest of commodities. A thing as hard to come by as God herself.”

 

Looking forward to sharing more with you on 11/21!

 

Until next time,

 

Stay spicy,

 

-Jeff