October 2022 - AMERICAN PRAETORIANS

October Stream with Steve Diamond

Steve Diamond is an old friend, met through our mutual friend Larry Correia. He’s a great storyteller, an aficionado of horror, and co-hosts the Writer Dojo podcast with Larry. This month, he joins us to talk about spooky stories. Because it’s October, so it just makes sense. Furthermore, The Alchemy of Treason came out this month, and it’s got some really spooky stuff in it (to the point that one reader told me he had to put the book down so he could finish his lunch). I got my start as a storyteller around campfires in the woods, giving Boy Scouts nightmares. It’s a tradition I like to continue from time to time, whether it’s in the Jed Horn series, The Lost, or some other upcoming series. So, come join us, on either FB or YouTube. (I have a Rumble account now, and the recording will be uploaded on Wednesday. I can’t stream there yet, because Rumble requires 100 subscribers before it’ll allow livestreaming.)

The Alchemy of Treason Livestream

I’ll be live on the Galaxy’s Edge channels tonight at 1800 PST/2100EST to talk about Wargate Books, The Lost in general, and The Alchemy of Treason somewhat more specifically (without undue spoilers). We’ll also have Jeremiah Humphries, the cover artist for Swords Against the Night, The Alchemy of Treason, and the upcoming The Rock of Battle on tonight as well. Come on by and join the peanut gallery.

The Alchemy of Treason

The World of The Lost gets a little darker, in The Alchemy of Treason. *** I got as low as I could and continued my inch-by-inch skull drag, moving into a slightly lower fold in the ground, shielded from the sentry by several stands of nearly two-foot-tall grass. I still had to move very slowly—even more slowly than I already had been for the last two hours. I was a good twenty yards away from him, but that was plenty close enough to get spotted or heard if I wasn’t careful, even in the deepening dark. I might have heard something off to my right. Maybe a grunt, suddenly cut off. Santos was supposed to be over there. Maybe he’d moved faster than I had. The last of the faint remaining glow in the west had faded and the stars were glittering in the black sky overhead when I finally rose to a low crouch. Firelight glinted faintly off the dark, satin steel of the Bowie in my fist as I quickly scanned my surroundings before padding as silently as I could toward the sentry, his back now to me. The fire still flickered, though most of the Avurs were now proned