Book Title: Conquist
Series: n/a
Author: Dirk Strasser
Publication Date: September 1st, 2024
Publisher: Roundfire Books
Pages: 360
Genre: Historical Fantasy
Conquist
Dirk Strasser
Blurb:
Capitán Cristóbal de Varga’s drive for glory and gold in 1538 Peru leads him and his army of conquistadors into a New World that refuses to be conquered. He is a man torn by life-long obsessions and knows this is his last campaign.
What he doesn’t know is that his Incan allies led by the princess Sarpay have their own furtive plans to make sure he never finds the golden city of Vilcabamba. He also doesn’t know that Héctor Valiente, the freed African slave he appointed as his lieutenant, has found a portal that will lead them all into a world that will challenge his deepest beliefs. And what he can’t possibly know is that this world will trap him in a war between two eternal enemies, leading him to question everything he has devoted his life to - his command, his Incan princess, his honor, his God.
In the end, he faces the ultimate dilemma: how is it possible to battle your own obsessions . . . to conquer yourself?
Buy Links:
Universal Amazon Buy Link: https://books2read.com/u/4AM52K
Publisher’s Conquist page: https://www.collectiveinkbooks.com/roundfire-books/our-books/conquist-novel
Author Bio:
Dirk Strasser’s epic fantasy trilogy The Books of Ascension—Zenith, Equinox and Eclipse—was published in German and English, and his short stories have been translated into several European languages. “The Doppelgänger Effect” appeared in the World Fantasy Award-winning anthology Dreaming Down Under. He is the co-editor of Australia’s premier science-fiction and fantasy magazine, Aurealis.
Dirk was born in Germany but has lived most of his life in Australia. He has written a series of best-selling school textbooks, trekked the Inca trail to Machu Picchu and studied Renaissance history. “Conquist” was first published as a short story in the anthology Dreaming Again (HarperCollins). The serialized version of Conquist was a finalist in the Aurealis Awards Best Fantasy Novel category. Dirk’s screenplay version of Conquist won the Wildsound Fantasy/Sci-Fi Festival Best Scene Reading Award and was a featured finalist in the Cinequest Film & Creativity Festival and the Creative World Awards.
Author Links:
Website: https://www.dirkstrasser.com/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/DirkStrasser
Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com.au/stores/author/B00CWMHGHO
Dirk’s blog: https://www.dirkstrasser.com/dirks-blog
Book Excerpt:
Conquist
Excerpt 2:
Chapter 3 The Entrada
Lieutenant Héctor Valiente led the pursuit as he and Jorge galloped through the snow-specked valley. Their horses kicked up angry snow clouds and sent wild llamas scurrying up the slopes. Héctor bore down on an Incan chaski runner clutching a quipu of colored knots to his chest. He knew he was pushing his mount to its limits, but he wasn’t about to let a royal messenger get away.
The runner headed toward a large gap in the mountainside. He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes locking on Héctor’s for a brief moment. As he plunged into the pass, lights shimmered across the entrance.
And the runner abruptly vanished.
Héctor pulled to a halt. He removed his crested helmet, his breath clouding in the frigid air. The sunlight was cold on his dark skin as he stared transfixed at the opening in the mountain.
Jorge pulled up next to him and pointed to the break in the rock.
“I know where he went,” said Héctor, frowning. “I saw him enter the pass.”
“Then why have we stopped? The capitán won’t be happy if—”
“I’m not interested in what you think Capitán de Varga will say.” Héctor swallowed hard.
There it was again. Why did they always question his decisions despite his rank? As always, he forced the fury back so it settled deep in the pit of his stomach.
“Come on, we’re wasting time.”
Blood rushed to Héctor’s face. “Is this how you speak to your lieutenant?” He steadied his voice. “Something strange happened.”
“I’m going after the runner.”
“I haven’t given the—”
Jorge was already charging toward the pass.
Héctor dug his heels into his mount and gave chase.
The curtain of light flickered.
And Jorge and his horse disappeared.
Héctor panicked and snapped back hard on his reins. His mount reared, and the lieutenant was flung to the ground.
He got to his feet, too shocked to feel any pain.
“Jorge?”
The only answer was the sharp-edged silence of the Andean snowscape.
An unearthly chill pierced him. Something he had not felt since the dark days before he had escaped the copper mines of Hispaniola. A time when he saw a bokor make a goat vanish, leaving a sheet of blood suspended momentarily mid-air before it rained to the ground.
He drew his sword and tentatively moved forward. The curtain flashed in and out of his vision as he approached. Of course, it’s just another pass, he told himself. There’s no dark maji here. But the chill froze the words into a lie. It was as if the Spanish armor he wore to conceal his past was slowly dissolving, leaving him exposed to the cold scrape of an ice blade on his skin.
Was that the death rattle of an asson he could hear? Impossible. Not here in the snows of the Andes. Even in his youth he knew the staccato sound of the bokor calling the spirits was no more than snake vertebrae inside a gourd, but it had never lost its power to unnerve him.
He drew closer to the curtain, his hand shaking as he clenched the hilt of his sword. He couldn’t let the runner escape. After so many months in the Andes, finally they had a sign they were looking in the right place. How could he explain his fear to the capitán?
“Ago!”
An African voice, an echo he had long suppressed, resounded in his head.
No, you aren’t here. You can’t be. Leave me. I’m not what I once was.
Héctor stopped in front of the shimmering curtain which extended the full width of the pass, hanging from an impossible height where it merged with the sky.
“Jorge?” His voice sounded thin to his own ears.
Héctor shivered as he looked through to the other side. The pass appeared to continue but there was no sign of anyone. Chillingly, there were no hoof prints visible on the ground.
The gossamer curtain glinted tantalizingly close. Héctor touched it with his sword and the tip disappeared. Drawing a sharp breath, he thrust the blade all the way in until his hand also vanished. He pulled back quickly at the sensation of heat on his skin, and his sword rematerialized.
Only now his blade was streaked with blood.
Ago! The bokor’s cry echoed inside his head again and his heart pounded.
He steadied his breathing. If he was able to control his anger, he could also control his fear. He was a conquistador now. Not a powerless slave.
Brandishing his bloodied sword, he stepped through the curtain.
The air suddenly warmed. His vision rippled as if he were looking under water. When it cleared, he became aware of something at his feet. Looking down, he saw the crumpled figure of Jorge, blood pooling from a deep wound in his thigh, his eyes fading but still alive.
Héctor stared at his sword and then back to Jorge. “You…you weren’t there…”
He heard whinnying. There was no sign of Jorge’s mount, although strangely, a trail of hoof prints was now visible in the pass. He realized the neighing was coming from his own horse beyond the veil. Yet, looking through the curtain he could only see the empty, untouched snowscape beyond the entrance. It was as if the curtain revealed a scene frozen in time beyond it.
Grabbing Jorge under both arms, Héctor dragged the conquistador back through the curtain until the Andean cold bit his face once more. His horse was there, stamping its hooves in agitation. After heaving Jorge onto its back, he remounted.
He headed back along the snow-covered mountain path to the distant bone rattle of an asson.
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Cathie xo
The Coffee Pot Book Club