The King's Affair by Teel James Glenn

NEW RELEASE JUNE 1, 2014!

The King's Affair by Teel James Glenn

gypsyshadow #steampunk #youngadult

http://www.amazon.com/Kings-Affair-Sci-Magickal-James-Glenn-ebook/dp/B00KPHRO2A

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-kings-affair-teel-james-glenn/1119638637

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/443917

http://www.gypsyshadow.com/Teel.html#KingsAffair

Is the alluring Baroness Lorenza working against the king? Who are the mysterious men who attacked Jeremy Cross? Will he find out in time to save the king and himself? Available from Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Smashwords, other fine eBook vendors and Gypsy Shadow Publishing at:

http://www.gypsyshadow.com/Teel.html#KingsAffair

When Sci-Magickal student Jeremy Cross, saved the King of England from assassination he thought he’d had all the adventure he’d ever get. He was wrong! He is asked to be a ‘secret’ bodyguard to the King of the country of Andorra. His job is to determine if the alluring actress the Baroness Gia Lorenza is working against the king. Little did he know the assignment would lead to more danger than he had ever imagined. Mysterious assassins, intrigue, espionage and the dread prospect of appearing on stage are just the beginning of the thrills he faces as he tries to determine-is she one of the good guys or a true femme fatale?

Word Count: 26200

Pages to Print:  91

Price: $3.99

EXCERPT:

Prologue

The King’s Airfare

When the Baroness Gia Lorenza entered the main lounge of the luxury Luffe-Zeppelin III, every male eye turned toward her. She slid across the floor with an effortless sensuousness that sent the blood pressure of every man in the room to fly higher than the dirigible. I was among them.

The Baroness was tall and lithe with dark red hair and that shade of pale skin that the poets might once have called alabaster. Her thin frame sported womanly curves in all the correct places, a fact that her brilliant blue dress showed off to great effect. The dress had a low décolletage, where hung an opal cameo given to her, some say, by King Edward of England himself.

Above all that was arresting about her were her eyes, jade green and shining with humor, set above a thin nose and perfect, bow lips. She laughed as she entered the room alone, as if recalling some past jest.

One of the goat-legged Satyrite stewards, approached her with a note on a tray. He wore a white uniform jacket and an airman’s cap that was perched oddly between his two short, curling horns.

Only human and Satyrite servants staffed the airship, as even though the ship used Helium, it was felt the weight of steambots was prohibitive. It gave the trip an old fashioned charm, despite the ultra-modern feel of the huge aircraft.

The Baroness took the note from the servant, glanced at it and laughed again. A lilting sound that, though not loud, still rang clearly over the constant hum of two 24-horsepower engines moving the airship forward at a cruising speed of thirty miles an hour.

The Baroness turned the power of her smile and her glance across the room, where three extraordinary figures were seated near a large observation port.

One was broad-shouldered and square-jawed, clearly a member of the Prussian Junker class, with a dueling scar on his left cheek and a monocle. His blond hair was close-cropped and his expression was set in a perpetual sneer. His uniform announced his rank as a major.

The second figure was an officious older man with the stoop-shouldered posture of a scholar, with full and bushy sideburns of the type commonly called mutton chops. He had a thick head of silver hair and nervous hands that were constantly moving. His clothing was neat, but clearly that of a civil servant.

Both of the men were focused on the third who sat at their table, a wine glass in his hand. He was younger than both his companions and dressed in the latest fashionable waistcoat and jacket of expensive velvet. His dark, wild hair and a jawline beard framed a handsome, carefree face. His eyes were an unusual amber color, and his smile when he motioned to the Baroness was wide and easy.

The red-haired siren glided across the floor of the room to the table with the three, who rose as one.

“Baroness,” the dark-haired man said. His voice was well-modulated and had a hint of a Russian accent. “So good of you to accept my invitation.” He motioned to an empty seat.

“How could I refuse so gallant an invitation, Your Majesty?” she asked with an ironic tone and a deep curtsey.

“Please, my dear, I am not the King of Andorra here,” the dark-haired man said. “I am simply Boris.”

“Then I shall be simply Gia.” She accepted his hand and sat in the offered seat.

All this was played out for those in the lounge, and every man in the room felt a stab of jealousy of the king of the tiny country. Yet we were on the ship because of King Boris, the first of the Principality of the Valleys of Andorra. The former Russian nobleman had discovered the world’s only deposit of Andorrite beneath estates he had purchased in the tiny country before the close of the Great War. The meteor-delivered crystal was vital to the control steambots at a long distance, making him one of the richest men in the world.

When Andorra declared war on Germany during the Great War, Boris had seized the government of the small country and signed a secret agreement with the Kaiser just weeks before the German Empire won. Thus the Kaiser recognized King Boris the First, and a new dynasty began.

The tiny nation—lodged between Spain and France and barely one hundred and eighty square miles—by virtue of the Andoritte deposits and Boris’ investments—became a major force in the newly-reformed Europe.

The fact that Boris was only in his early thirties and still liked to live a life like King Edward of England—whom he knew well—had when he was the crown prince, made him a cause celeb in all of Europe.

He had just come back from a visit to Vienna to see the opening of the opera season and was homeward bound to Andorra la Vella, his capital city. On board was an entire theatre company bound for the St. Laurent Theatre in the capital. The Baroness Lorenza was the lead actress in that company and the reason I had joined it.

My job was to keep the King of Andorra from falling in love with her!

NEW RELEASE February 1, 2014!

Sci-Magickal by Teel James Glenn

#gypsyshadow #steampunk #youngadult

http://www.amazon.com/Sci-Magickal-Mabuse-World-Sci-Magickal-James-Glenn-ebook/dp/B00I5VQI20

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/sci-magickal-teel-james-glenn/1118427411

http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/403856

http://www.gypsyshadow.com/Teel.html#Sci-Magickal

Jeremy Cross goes to Germany to study Magick, but instead becomes the pawn in an incredible plan to kill a king and take over an empire. Three short steampunk stories from master story-teller, Teel James Glenn. Available from Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Smashwords, other fine eBook vendors and Gypsy Shadow Publishing at:

http://www.gypsyshadow.com/Teel.html#Sci-Magickal

When Jeremy Cross gets his scholarship to the Mabuse School for New Magicks in Germany, he has no idea what he is in for: the only Englishman in the academy, he receives all sorts of ribbing, yet he makes friends. When some of those friends, Elke, Gert and Oswald, come up with a wild scheme to break into the old Castle Godesburg and search for an ancient treasure, he goes along with them. None of them imagine they'll discover an ancient talisman of power or that poor Jeremy will become the victim of ancient magicks so powerful that none of his instructors can control them.

Things go from bad to worse when he becomes the pawn of fellow students in an incredible plan to kill a king and take over an empire. Old school days have never been like this!

Word Count: 37,800
Pages to Print: 131
Price: $4.99

COMING FEBRUARY 1, 2014!

Sci-Magickal by Teel James Glenn

#gypsyshadow #steampunk #youngadult

When Jeremy Cross gets his scholarship to the Mabuse School for New Magicks in Germany, he has no idea what he is in for: the only Englishman in the academy, he receives all sorts of ribbing, yet he makes friends. When some of those friends, Elke, Gert and Oswald, come up with a wild scheme to break into the old Castle Godesburg and search for an ancient treasure, he goes along with them. None of them imagine they'll discover an ancient talisman of power or that poor Jeremy will become the victim of ancient magicks so powerful that none of his instructors can control them.

Things go from bad to worse when he becomes the pawn of fellow students in an incredible plan to kill a king and take over an empire. Old school days have never been like this!

Word Count: 37,800

Pages to Print: 131

Price: $4.99

Excerpt

Part I:

The War Girdle

Chapter One

Breaking into a Donjon is Just Wrong!

I must say in all honestly, had alcohol not been involved in the incident, perhaps my life might have been different; perhaps not better, but certainly different.

The circumstance came about when we were sitting in the rathskeller in Bad Godesberg after classes. I was taking the usual ribbing. I was the only English student at the Mabuse School for New Magicks, but that was not the reason they hazed me. They would have tormented me, were I full blood Prussian like they, or French, or what have you, because I was the new student.

I had only been at the school for six months, having transferred in from the Academy D’arc in Ireland. My parents had decided the continent was where the best in alchemical arts could be studied and, since the opening up of the European conference of Magicks and Science had normalized such studies—even over the objections of the Papacy—it was now a respected profession.

I had been interested in Magick since as a child I had seen a minor conjurer at a fair back in Wycombe change a rabbit into a hawk. It was just before Germany won the World War using those principles when it was still frowned upon.

“Stop wool gathering, Englander,” Gert Von Handler said. “You have to throw the dart.” He stroked along the smite scar on his left cheek from his mensur dueling. He was very proud of his Schmiss.

I was standing in the underground, smoke-filled pub and had already had several tankards of good German beer. I had gained a reputation as the dart man in the underclass during the months I had been there and was straining to uphold it against my archrival, Gert.

“I’m just waiting for the spirit to move me,” I said. “One cannot rush perfection.”

This made Oswald, my rotund friend and Elke, the beautiful blonde classmate who seemed to always hang around with our group, break into gales of laughter.

“Oh shoot, Jeremy,” Oswald sneered. “I am growing old while you wait for ghosts to move you.”

I shot him a dirty look and went back to sighing my dart.

“Take your time,” Elke said with that pout that drove us all crazy. “He just doesn’t want to pay for another round of drinks.”

Gert made a disgusted sound and I knew her barb had struck home. I squinted at the board and launched my own missile. It struck true to the center of the board.

Bullseye!

“Have you ever paid for a round of drinks?’ Elke asked me when Jenna the bar maid brought our new drinks.

“Many,” I said, “but not for a time; I led a wasted youth in many pubs.”

Gert snorted at that. He was the poser image of the New Germany; a blond tall, well-muscled demi-god with piercing blue eyes and a dueling scar on his left cheek that proclaimed him as a child of the Junkers. He was the apple of his military family’s eye and had shocked many of the traditionalists when he chose to study the Magickal arts, but as he put it, “We won the war, in part because of the Sci-Magickal advances that great men like Mabuse and Himmler brought to bear. It is only logical that I learn all there is to know about it.” I remember he had smiled a predator’s smile when he added, “I will not beat my sword into a plow shear; simply add a wand to my arsenal.”

I had no such lofty or nationalistic goals. My parents were modest merchants who ran a hostelry outside of High Wycombe and simply had hopes for me to make it through university and find a profession. They were shocked when I took the entrance exam for the Academy D’arc, and more so when the inquisitor said I had true Magickal talent.

A year in Ireland, however, left me feeling that somehow I was not getting the instruction I could be. And when representatives of the Mabuse School had visited and presented a seminar on transformational energy, I knew that I had to study there. I had been able to convince the professor, one Herr Magus Shikelgruber, to allow me into an exchange student program.

My parents, especially my mother, were not happy with me being among the Irish, and now the thought of being in the midst of our former enemies and conquerors was almost too much for them. But it was a scholarship and they relented.

So now I was the new boy on the block, the Englander, to all in the school and often the butt of jokes.

I took it all in stride, for it meant I was learning things in the way I wanted. The instructors were the finest in the world and the students—even the self-possessed Gert—were some of the most talented in the arts. They, and I hoped I, would be the true future of the world.

“I overheard Magus Maurius shouting at old Adolph today,” Elke said. She was a lovely girl, almost as tall as me, with a girlish figure blossoming to womanhood in the most pleasing way. Her eyes sparkled all the time, and I think half the underclassmen had a crush on her. I know I did.

“What were they on about?” Oswald asked as he stuffed yet another piece of strudel into his maw.

We all leaned in to hear the details; the two professors seemed always to be at odds over issues Magickal. Their arguments were almost legendary.

“Maurius was going on about the Halbesel formulae that Adolph uses and saying it was nonsense.”

“No!” Gert said, “He actually said that?”

“Yes,” Oswald insisted, “he said nonsense! Then Adolph started that sputtering speech of his about the great past of Germany and Heimat historians using the spells and how could someone like Maurius who was not part of the Volk community . . .”

“No!” Elke gasped, then she giggled. “I wish I could have seen Maurius’ face.”

“I didn’t dare peek around the edge of the doorway to look,” Oswald said as he cleaned his third plate of the evening. “But Maurius went on about how it was pure speculation that the pre-Christians used the Halbesel spells that Skiky was so up on.”

“And Adolph let that sit?” I said. My sponsor was known for his powerful speeches and arguments.

“Oh, he shot back with, ‘the Heimat inhabitants used many peaks to call to the god Wotan the god of war, death and the hunt, and with such symbols as warrior girdles were able to effect changes like even to the bear shirts or Berserkers.’”

Elke laughed. “He gave that same speech last week when we asked him about the Godesberg references in the old spell book.” I noticed that the tip of her nose moved like a bunny’s when she laughed: a little thing, but a delightful one.

“Yes,” Gert said, his angular features taking on a stern cast. “I remember he talked about his theory about a secret vault from the late 14th century, somewhere up in the old fortress from when it had become the repository of the Elector’s valuables and archives.”

“Do you think it could be real?” Elke asked, “I mean, if it was, wouldn’t they have found it by now?”

“Not necessarily,” I said. “I remember when I first got here I read in the guide book that the old castle was under the district’s historical agency and we weren’t supposed to go near it because of jurisdictional concerns.”

“I have heard something of that,” Gert said. “The Bonn city council claims it and Bad Godesberg claims it and the state historical council wants to restore it. And they have been fighting over it for years.”

“That’s what I love about your German courts,” I said, for once enjoying being the outsider. “If a thing can be drawn out for a day, it can be drawn out for a decade!”

“Do you think there really is a secret vault in the castle donjon, like Adolph says?” Elke asked.

“I trust what he says,” I said. “The fort itself was established on an ancient cult site, or so he said.”

“No matter how silly his mustache is?” Elke said with a grin.

“Yes,” I said, sticking my tongue out at her. “I think if he says it’s there, it’s probably in there.”

“We ought to just sneak in and see,” Oswald said casually as he slurped up another ale.

There was sudden silence at the table and the other three of us looked at each other with the same startled expressions.

“What are you all looking at?” Oswald asked when he realized we had stopped our usual banter.

“You are a genius, Oswald, my round friend,” I said. I knew by their look that the other two had indeed come to the same conclusion.

“What do you mean?” he said.

“We can get into the old castle and look for the vault of spells!” Gert said. “It would be a great coup, and the information we could find is rightfully the Fatherland’s!” He looked at me when he said it, and I knew he was already thinking of some way to exclude me from the expedition.

I was having none of that.

“Come on, then,” I said, rising from the table a bit unsteadily from the tankards I had consumed. “Let’s go!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TEEL JAMES GLENN has traveled the world for thirty years as a stuntman, fight choreographer, swordmaster, jouster, illustrator, storyteller, bodyguard and actor. One of the things he’s proudest of is having studied under Errol Flynn’s last stunt double. Mr. Glenn continues to teach swordwork in New York.

His stories have been printed in scores of magazines from Weird Tales to Mad to Black Belt to Fantasy World Geographic, Blazing Adventures and Tales of Old. He has over two dozen books and anthologies in print in many genres including Steampunk, Western, Mystery and the bestselling SF Thriller series, The Exceptionals. One was a finalist in the EPIC eBook awards in 2009.

He is the winner of the 2012 Pulp Ark Best Author of the Year. Epic eBook award finalist. Preditors and Editors Readers Poll winner: Best Steampunk Short finalist, Best Fantasy Short Collection, Best Fantasy Short Story, Best Horror Short Story and in the Thriller and Mystery Novel categories; Author of The Maxi/Moxie Series, The Dr. Shadows Series, Jon Shadows Series and others.

WEBSITE: http//www.theurbanswashbuckler.com
TWITTER: https://twitter.com/teeljamesglenn
FACEBOOK: https://www.facebook.com/teeljamesglenn