Depuis des jours, c'est le déluge et la pluie ne cessera jamais. L'eau monte encore et encore, tellement qu'après quarante jours les villes sont inondées et les survivants sont ceux qui ont pu se cacher au sommet d'une montagne ou sur le toit d'un gratte-ciel. Cependant, la catastrophe naturelle n'est pas le seul péril que rencontreront les survivants. Des entrailles de la Terre s'éveillent des créatures abominables... incluant des vers de terre géants mangeurs d'hommes !
L'histoire est racontée du point de vue de deux personnages, ce qui donne l'impression que ce roman est en fait un amalgame de deux novella. Le premier narrateur est un vieil homme écrivant ses aventures à la montagne alors que le second raconte comment les choses se passent dans les villes. L'un des deux est très attachant alors l'autre sert surtout à raconter une histoire. Ce changement de ton au cours du roman pourrait déranger certains lecteurs.
The conqueror worms est un roman d'horreur postapocalyptique qui, malgré les prémices un peu loufoques, présente des personnages attachants dans des situations tout à fait terrifiantes. Le développement du thème est ingénieux et l'origine des vers conquérants est liée à la cosmologie créée par Keene. Pour les amateurs de monstres géants, de littérature pulpeuse ou de scénarios de fin du monde, ce livre sera un plaisir. C'est aussi si cool que manger des vers en jujube avec des amis.
Sur son site web, Brian Keene publie sous forme de série une suite à ce roman : Deluge: The conqueror worms II. Tout ça n'est pas encore disponible en français.
Billets reliés :
Slither, de Edward Lee, une histoire de vers parasites
Le ver dans la littérature d'horreur : une introduction.
Alone, de Poe, en musique
Le poème Alone de Edgar Allan Poe a été mis en musique à plusieurs reprises. Ce poème est idéal pour une chanson, car il n'a que 22 vers (non, pas des vers, des vers!). Commençons par lire le poème dans sa version originale
Alone, par Edgar Allan Poe (source).
From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were---I have not seen
As others saw---I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I lov'd, I loved alone.
Then---in my childhood---in the dawn
Of a most stormy life---was drawn
From ev'ry depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that 'round me roll'd
In its autumn tint of gold---
From the lightning in the sky
As it pass'd me flying by---
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.
Et maintenant, en musique, voici une version progressive-folk par Green Carnation. Cette version est bonne pour toutes les oreilles !
Ensuite, une version black métal avant-garde par Arcturus. Plus heavy cette fois.
Et finalement une version gothique néo-classique par Sopor Aeternus and the ensemble of shadows. L'intérêt de ce groupe est surtout dans son image dérangeante; le groupe est mené par un transgenre qui se prend pour une vieille fille dépressive...
Alone, par Edgar Allan Poe (source).
From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were---I have not seen
As others saw---I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I lov'd, I loved alone.
Then---in my childhood---in the dawn
Of a most stormy life---was drawn
From ev'ry depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that 'round me roll'd
In its autumn tint of gold---
From the lightning in the sky
As it pass'd me flying by---
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.
Et maintenant, en musique, voici une version progressive-folk par Green Carnation. Cette version est bonne pour toutes les oreilles !
Ensuite, une version black métal avant-garde par Arcturus. Plus heavy cette fois.
Et finalement une version gothique néo-classique par Sopor Aeternus and the ensemble of shadows. L'intérêt de ce groupe est surtout dans son image dérangeante; le groupe est mené par un transgenre qui se prend pour une vieille fille dépressive...
Défi SF 2010
Voici un défi qui en intéressera plusieurs : le défi SF 2010. Pour les habitués de ce blogue, ce défi risque d'être simple, puisqu'il consiste en la lecture et la critique de trois romans de SF au cours de 2010. Il y a deux formes au défi, le défi simple SF et le défi crazy SF. Le premier consiste simplement en la lecture de trois romans sans contrainte alors que, dans le défi fou fou fou, les livres doivent être dans des sous-catégories de SF différentes. De mon côté, j'ai opté pour la catégorie folle.
Je lirai certainement Anathem, de Neal Stepheson et possiblement du Cory Doctorow ou du Maurice Dantec. J'aimerais aussi trouver un bon roman SF/horreur et il faudrait bien que je lise Dune ou peu de SF québécoise...
Au final, pour 2010, je vous promets un peu plus de SF sur le cryptonomiblogue.
Je lirai certainement Anathem, de Neal Stepheson et possiblement du Cory Doctorow ou du Maurice Dantec. J'aimerais aussi trouver un bon roman SF/horreur et il faudrait bien que je lise Dune ou peu de SF québécoise...
Au final, pour 2010, je vous promets un peu plus de SF sur le cryptonomiblogue.
Slither, de Edward Lee, une histoire de vers parasites
La première fois que j'ai lu du Edward Lee, je suis resté confus et je me suis dit que je ne lirais plus jamais un de ses livres. J'avais trouvé les personnages de Infernal Angel superficiels, l'histoire un peu conne et l'horreur gratuite. Cependant, quand il a publié Slither, je me suis laissé tenter, comme je me laisse trop souvent tenter par des couvertures avec des demoiselles en petites tenues enlacées par des monstres. À ce moment, j'ai compris que ce qui m'avait repoussé était exactement ce qui faisait l'attrait de Edward Lee, et celui des couvertures avec des dames courtes vêtues courtisées par des créatures indicibles. Depuis, je suis accro.
Slither raconte comment une bande d'helminthologistes (scientifiques qui étudient les vers), plus précisément de polychaetologistes (scientifiques qui étudient les vers de type polychaete), explorent une île isolée afin d'étudier un ver de la famille causant la trichinose.
Peu de temps après leur arrivée, ils réalisent que le ver est plus féroce que ce à quoi ils s'attendaient. Et plus gros, foutrement plus gros. En fait, il semble que plusieurs espèces de vers meurtriers se trouvent sur l'île, car une forme plus petite cause une étrange parasitose. Les symptômes incluent un teint jaunâtre, une attitude de zombie et, surtout, un appétit sexuel incontrôlable. S'ensuit une série de scènes juteuses à souhait qui mêlent savamment l'horreur et le sexe. Du Edward Lee typique.
Même si Slither est loin d'être parfait, il reste une lecture fort divertissante pour les amateurs de splatterpunk.
Note : Ne pas confondre le roman Slither avec le film d’horreur du même nom mettant en vedette Nathan Filion et des vers parasites.
Billets reliés :
Le ver dans la littérature d'horreur : une introduction.
Slither raconte comment une bande d'helminthologistes (scientifiques qui étudient les vers), plus précisément de polychaetologistes (scientifiques qui étudient les vers de type polychaete), explorent une île isolée afin d'étudier un ver de la famille causant la trichinose.
Peu de temps après leur arrivée, ils réalisent que le ver est plus féroce que ce à quoi ils s'attendaient. Et plus gros, foutrement plus gros. En fait, il semble que plusieurs espèces de vers meurtriers se trouvent sur l'île, car une forme plus petite cause une étrange parasitose. Les symptômes incluent un teint jaunâtre, une attitude de zombie et, surtout, un appétit sexuel incontrôlable. S'ensuit une série de scènes juteuses à souhait qui mêlent savamment l'horreur et le sexe. Du Edward Lee typique.
Même si Slither est loin d'être parfait, il reste une lecture fort divertissante pour les amateurs de splatterpunk.
Note : Ne pas confondre le roman Slither avec le film d’horreur du même nom mettant en vedette Nathan Filion et des vers parasites.
Billets reliés :
Le ver dans la littérature d'horreur : une introduction.
Le ver dans la littérature d'horreur, une introduction
"C'est dégueulasse !", murmura-t-elle à sa voisine.
Marie-Marie-Maude, impressionnable étudiante en microbiologie, assistait à un cours sur les maladies infectieuses dans le pavillon des ti-docteurs à l'Université Laval. Le sujet d'aujourd'hui : les vers parasites. Défilaient sur l'écran, des images d'enfants avec des bouquets de vers blancs leur sortant du derrière, des opérations à la rate d'où s'extirpent de dégoutantes créatures filamenteuses. L'horreur !
Pourtant, rien de tout ça n'est fiction. Au cours des prochains jours, Marie-Marie-Maude apprendra le nom de tous ces vers par coeur.
Rien d'étonnant que le ver ait une place de choix dans le cinéma et la littérature d'horreur. Tout le monde se souvient du film Tremors ou des vers des sables de Dune. Dans mes prochains billets, je vous présenterai quelques oeuvres d'horreur qui nous terrifient avec ces créatures, parfois microscopiques, parfois dignes du Léviathan !
Billets reliés :
Slither, de Edward Lee
Marie-Marie-Maude, impressionnable étudiante en microbiologie, assistait à un cours sur les maladies infectieuses dans le pavillon des ti-docteurs à l'Université Laval. Le sujet d'aujourd'hui : les vers parasites. Défilaient sur l'écran, des images d'enfants avec des bouquets de vers blancs leur sortant du derrière, des opérations à la rate d'où s'extirpent de dégoutantes créatures filamenteuses. L'horreur !
Pourtant, rien de tout ça n'est fiction. Au cours des prochains jours, Marie-Marie-Maude apprendra le nom de tous ces vers par coeur.
Rien d'étonnant que le ver ait une place de choix dans le cinéma et la littérature d'horreur. Tout le monde se souvient du film Tremors ou des vers des sables de Dune. Dans mes prochains billets, je vous présenterai quelques oeuvres d'horreur qui nous terrifient avec ces créatures, parfois microscopiques, parfois dignes du Léviathan !
Billets reliés :
Slither, de Edward Lee
Le fils du King; quelques mots à propos de Joe Hill
Avec la sortie en format poche du roman de Joe Hill Le costume du mort, je me permets quelques commentaires sur cet auteur dont j'ai déjà parlé dans plusieurs billets.
Jusqu'ici, l'auteur n'a produit que des perles. Son recueil 20th Century Ghosts contient des merveilles et sa bande dessinée Locke & Key est fantastique. Son roman Le costume du mort (Heart-Shaped Box) raconte l'histoire d'une star du rock collectionneur d'objets insolites qui achète un costume (un complet) hanté. Il tente de se débarrasser de ce fantôme qui lui pourrit l'existence. Un roman sombre, drôle et macabre à souhait.
Joe Hill a une voix unique qu'on ne retrouve pas, à mon avis, dans la littérature d'horreur actuelle. Si on compare son style avec celui de son père (Hill est le fils de Stephen King), je dirais que Joe est plus trash, mais qu'il hérite de la capacité de conteur de son paternel. Un des avantages de Hill sur King, c'est qu'il va plus droit au but que son père, qui a tendance à faire des digressions épouvantables. Même s'il n'a, pour l'instant, qu'un seul roman à son actif, il est un auteur très prometteur et il mérite amplement de ne pas souffrir de l'ombre de son papa.
Son prochain roman, Horns, est prévu pour le 16 février 2009.
Jusqu'ici, l'auteur n'a produit que des perles. Son recueil 20th Century Ghosts contient des merveilles et sa bande dessinée Locke & Key est fantastique. Son roman Le costume du mort (Heart-Shaped Box) raconte l'histoire d'une star du rock collectionneur d'objets insolites qui achète un costume (un complet) hanté. Il tente de se débarrasser de ce fantôme qui lui pourrit l'existence. Un roman sombre, drôle et macabre à souhait.
Joe Hill a une voix unique qu'on ne retrouve pas, à mon avis, dans la littérature d'horreur actuelle. Si on compare son style avec celui de son père (Hill est le fils de Stephen King), je dirais que Joe est plus trash, mais qu'il hérite de la capacité de conteur de son paternel. Un des avantages de Hill sur King, c'est qu'il va plus droit au but que son père, qui a tendance à faire des digressions épouvantables. Même s'il n'a, pour l'instant, qu'un seul roman à son actif, il est un auteur très prometteur et il mérite amplement de ne pas souffrir de l'ombre de son papa.
Son prochain roman, Horns, est prévu pour le 16 février 2009.
Le problème avec les zombi(e)s
-- Le problème avec les zombi(e)s, c'est...
-- ... qu'ils ont tendance à être réduits en bouillie par des ébats trop fougueux ?
-- Non Ray, c'est pas ça le problème avec les zombi(e)s.
-- Alors c'est quoi le problème avec les zombi(e)s ?
-- Le problème avec les zombi(e)s c'est qu'on ne sait pas trop comment l'écrire en français. Dans mon article sur Le protocole Reston, j'ai utilisé zombi, parce que je croyais que zombie avec un e n'était pas bon en français. Pourtant, j'aime mieux zombie avec un e, ça fait plus peur et ça a moins l'air de sortir de légendes vaudou.
-- Fred, selon Antidote, on peut l'écrire zombi ou zombie. Selon le ti-bob aussi. Pis Marie-Éva, ben elle n'en parle pas dans son Multidictionnaire, fake on a pas à se badrer avec ça.
-- Crap, j'aurais dû vérifier avant. Merci Ray.
-- Mais c'est quand même vrai que c'est trop mou un zombie. Voltaire le chante si bien...
-- ... qu'ils ont tendance à être réduits en bouillie par des ébats trop fougueux ?
-- Non Ray, c'est pas ça le problème avec les zombi(e)s.
-- Alors c'est quoi le problème avec les zombi(e)s ?
-- Le problème avec les zombi(e)s c'est qu'on ne sait pas trop comment l'écrire en français. Dans mon article sur Le protocole Reston, j'ai utilisé zombi, parce que je croyais que zombie avec un e n'était pas bon en français. Pourtant, j'aime mieux zombie avec un e, ça fait plus peur et ça a moins l'air de sortir de légendes vaudou.
-- Fred, selon Antidote, on peut l'écrire zombi ou zombie. Selon le ti-bob aussi. Pis Marie-Éva, ben elle n'en parle pas dans son Multidictionnaire, fake on a pas à se badrer avec ça.
-- Crap, j'aurais dû vérifier avant. Merci Ray.
-- Mais c'est quand même vrai que c'est trop mou un zombie. Voltaire le chante si bien...
Une fêlure au flanc du monde, de Éric Gauthier
Malick, un magicien autoproclamé, fuit ses ennuis et se retrouve dans la ville où il a grandi; St-Nicaise en Abitibi. En plus d'y trouver de vieux et de nouveaux amis, il devra affronter une secte aux pouvoirs terrifiants. Pour un résumé vraiment plus intéressant que celui-ci, visitez le site de Alire... Passons à la critique proprement dite.
J'ai lu Une fêlure au flanc du monde, de Éric Gauthier, avant de commencer à bloguer. C'est depuis ce temps que je me promets d'écrire à ce sujet et que je procrastine parce que j'ai oublié la majeure partie de mes commentaires. Ça fait quand même près d'un an. Depuis tout ce temps, je cherche un comparatif pour exprimer ma perception de ce roman et j'ai finalement trouvé.
Maintenant, quand je repense à d'Une fêlure au flanc du monde, je ne peux m'empêcher de penser à Clive Barker. Le Barker du Royaume des devins (Weaveworld), de Secret show (The great and secret show) ou du Maître de l'illusion (Lord of illusions). Le Barker qui crée des mythologies qui transforment notre perception du monde. J'avoue, c'est un gigantesque compliment, surtout quand on sait que Barker est mon auteur favori. Quand même, Une fêlure au flanc du monde est, sans aucune hésitation, le meilleur roman que j'ai lu en 2008.
Contrairement à Barker, qui puise dans un merveilleux grotesque et érotique pour alimenter ses romans, Gauthier puise plutôt dans une magie terre-à-terre. Et cela, à la fois du côté des méchants que de celui de Malick, le héros dont les pouvoirs s'appuient autant sur ses talents de baratineur que sur un surnaturel rationnel. Dans Une fêlure au flanc du monde, la magie reste un sous-entendu plutôt qu'une réalité. Encore mieux que ça, une bonne partie du surnaturel du roman prend sa force dans la perception de la population en général, comme si l'opinion publique dégageait une énergie mystique qui alimentait divers rituels. Le petit côté manipulation de l'opinion publique m'a particulièrement plu.
Même si les rituels magiques ont une place importante dans le roman, c'est le côté humain qui prend la première place. Le personnages sont développés à la perfection et leurs relations sont évoquées avec profondeur et réalisme. De plus, l'intrigue est menée à la perfection. J'espère revoir Malick dans de nouvelles aventures.
Une merveille de la littérature fantastique. Ne passez pas à côté.
J'ai lu Une fêlure au flanc du monde, de Éric Gauthier, avant de commencer à bloguer. C'est depuis ce temps que je me promets d'écrire à ce sujet et que je procrastine parce que j'ai oublié la majeure partie de mes commentaires. Ça fait quand même près d'un an. Depuis tout ce temps, je cherche un comparatif pour exprimer ma perception de ce roman et j'ai finalement trouvé.
Maintenant, quand je repense à d'Une fêlure au flanc du monde, je ne peux m'empêcher de penser à Clive Barker. Le Barker du Royaume des devins (Weaveworld), de Secret show (The great and secret show) ou du Maître de l'illusion (Lord of illusions). Le Barker qui crée des mythologies qui transforment notre perception du monde. J'avoue, c'est un gigantesque compliment, surtout quand on sait que Barker est mon auteur favori. Quand même, Une fêlure au flanc du monde est, sans aucune hésitation, le meilleur roman que j'ai lu en 2008.
Contrairement à Barker, qui puise dans un merveilleux grotesque et érotique pour alimenter ses romans, Gauthier puise plutôt dans une magie terre-à-terre. Et cela, à la fois du côté des méchants que de celui de Malick, le héros dont les pouvoirs s'appuient autant sur ses talents de baratineur que sur un surnaturel rationnel. Dans Une fêlure au flanc du monde, la magie reste un sous-entendu plutôt qu'une réalité. Encore mieux que ça, une bonne partie du surnaturel du roman prend sa force dans la perception de la population en général, comme si l'opinion publique dégageait une énergie mystique qui alimentait divers rituels. Le petit côté manipulation de l'opinion publique m'a particulièrement plu.
Même si les rituels magiques ont une place importante dans le roman, c'est le côté humain qui prend la première place. Le personnages sont développés à la perfection et leurs relations sont évoquées avec profondeur et réalisme. De plus, l'intrigue est menée à la perfection. J'espère revoir Malick dans de nouvelles aventures.
Une merveille de la littérature fantastique. Ne passez pas à côté.
Le coeur pourri, cinquième partie
Lastrem et Zerys ont repris possession du Coeur pourri et ont sauté du airship, au grand dam de Lia et Qiroy.
Voici la conclusion de cette histoire riche en rebondissements, avec la conclusion du synopsis de The rotten heart
Casting the feather fall spell as they reach the ground, Lastrem seems surprised when Zerys slaps him in the face. “I should make you swallow your pretty undead stories and ride your corpse back to Karrnath !”
Lost in the plains and followed by the airship, they follow the traces of a nomad halfling tribe. Arriving in the middle of a wedding, Lastrem improvises himself a wedding singer. Zerys follows, but he lacks Lastrem’s spontaneity. During a night of party and palaver, Lastrem seduces the bride, while Zerys gets interested in the burial rituals of the halflings. They leave in a hurry the next morning on a live glidewing, when they come across the halflings from whom they stole the clawfoots.
As they fly away, Lastrem suggests that they hide in the Q’barran jungle until the Order of the Emerald Claw forgets them. However, as they cross the Blade Desert, the Order of the Emerald Claw’s airship catches up with them. A tight chase ensues, killing the glidewing as they reach the Boneyard.
Zerys animates a dragon shaped skeleton to fight off Qiroy and his crew,
only to discover that he has no control over it. The skeletal dragon attacks Zerys but, when the landing airship disturbs a great pile of bones, the skeletal dragon turns it’s dusty breath to Qiroy and the airship’s crew. Lastrem and Zerys take this opportunity to flee but, as they get away, the dragon senses the magical power of the rotten heart. Treatening their lives, the dragon asks for the artifact. While Lastrem bargains for Lia’s life, Zerys inserts the artifact into the ribcage of his skeletal rat. Feigning reluctantness, Zerys surrenders this package to the dragon.
As Lastrem, Lia and Zerys flee the heat of the Blade Desert, a small creature climbs Zerys’ cloths to sit on his shoulder. A delicate putrefaction exhale from the undead, leaving Lastrem puzzled. “You’re not the only one capable of cunning, Lastrem”, says Zerys as he rips appart the rat’s ribcage to remove the rotten heart.
Et voilà comment se termine cette grande aventure. Malheureusement, elle ne fera jamais l'objet d'un roman (ou d'une suite de romans), car Wizards of the Coast ne soutiendrait pas un tel projet. Heureusement, la rédaction de ce synopsis et de ce chapitre m'a donné le goût d'écrire un roman d'aventure. En français cette fois.
Ce roman, c'est Cadavres de cristal.
Voici la conclusion de cette histoire riche en rebondissements, avec la conclusion du synopsis de The rotten heart
Casting the feather fall spell as they reach the ground, Lastrem seems surprised when Zerys slaps him in the face. “I should make you swallow your pretty undead stories and ride your corpse back to Karrnath !”
Lost in the plains and followed by the airship, they follow the traces of a nomad halfling tribe. Arriving in the middle of a wedding, Lastrem improvises himself a wedding singer. Zerys follows, but he lacks Lastrem’s spontaneity. During a night of party and palaver, Lastrem seduces the bride, while Zerys gets interested in the burial rituals of the halflings. They leave in a hurry the next morning on a live glidewing, when they come across the halflings from whom they stole the clawfoots.
As they fly away, Lastrem suggests that they hide in the Q’barran jungle until the Order of the Emerald Claw forgets them. However, as they cross the Blade Desert, the Order of the Emerald Claw’s airship catches up with them. A tight chase ensues, killing the glidewing as they reach the Boneyard.
Zerys animates a dragon shaped skeleton to fight off Qiroy and his crew,
only to discover that he has no control over it. The skeletal dragon attacks Zerys but, when the landing airship disturbs a great pile of bones, the skeletal dragon turns it’s dusty breath to Qiroy and the airship’s crew. Lastrem and Zerys take this opportunity to flee but, as they get away, the dragon senses the magical power of the rotten heart. Treatening their lives, the dragon asks for the artifact. While Lastrem bargains for Lia’s life, Zerys inserts the artifact into the ribcage of his skeletal rat. Feigning reluctantness, Zerys surrenders this package to the dragon.
As Lastrem, Lia and Zerys flee the heat of the Blade Desert, a small creature climbs Zerys’ cloths to sit on his shoulder. A delicate putrefaction exhale from the undead, leaving Lastrem puzzled. “You’re not the only one capable of cunning, Lastrem”, says Zerys as he rips appart the rat’s ribcage to remove the rotten heart.
Et voilà comment se termine cette grande aventure. Malheureusement, elle ne fera jamais l'objet d'un roman (ou d'une suite de romans), car Wizards of the Coast ne soutiendrait pas un tel projet. Heureusement, la rédaction de ce synopsis et de ce chapitre m'a donné le goût d'écrire un roman d'aventure. En français cette fois.
Ce roman, c'est Cadavres de cristal.
Le coeur pourri, quatrième partie
Quand nous nous sommes laissées, Lastrem surprenait Qiroy avec un bon coup de poing sur la gueule et Lia retirait la dague qu'elle avait enfoncée dans le dos de Zerys...
As Lastrem struggled with Qiroy, trying to ignore his putrid stench, he saw Lia’s dagger gleam with a redish flash. “Zerys”, muttered Lastrem as he tripped Qiroy and sprung on his feet. “We’ll be on our way”, he said to Qiroy as he slashed at his face, aware that his musical magic would soon reach it’s end. Before he could reach Lia, his gaze was strung by a peculiar sight.
Lia was not struggling with Zerys anymore, but with a skeletal bird that peaked at her back. She had had no other choice than to leave Zerys alone and take care of the undead bird instead.
When Lastrem reached Zerys, he was standing and had backed up to the airship’s rail. “Nice wings”, said Lastrem as he took Zerys’ arm to lead him to the ship’s prow. He gripped the corpse collector’s shoulder, feeling the wound through his wool shirt.
Zerys, in a trance induced by his wound, let escape a cry when Lia clashed the bird on the deck. The breaking bone’s noise echoed in the air, like marbles falling on the floor, and left Zerys clinging to the rotten heart. His wound was not helping him regain his mind. Now that the bird’s bones laid scattered across the deck, they needed to get out of there as fast as they could. Lastrem gazed at Qiroy, who had made it back to his feet and was casting as he crossed the deck to catch them.
Zerys was in shock.
Lastrem had a plan, but Zerys wouldn’t survive if he wasn’t in good shape. He would only have a few seconds to heal his friend, so he began chanting immediately. He kept his voice low, but the magic fused from his lips, healing Zerys’ wound within a second. Too busy with his magic, he didn’t see Lia creep right under his nose.
The changeling surprised Lastrem with a strong kick behind the knee. Lastrem managed to keep his balance, but Zerys fell on the deck. He was just regaining consciousness.
* * *
When Qiroy noticed Zerys’ wound, he called the powers of the blood to fill his senses with an hunger for death. Praying, Qiroy advanced to Zerys, hoping that Lia would take care of Lastrem before his spell was done. Most of the crew had regained their senses and the elemental was regaining it’s fiery red glow. The acolyte shook from his fear ridden torpor and moved to Qiroy’s side.
While Lia took care of Lastrem, Qiroy pointed his hand at Zerys. Both men’s eyes locked when Qiroy shoved his hand in Zerys’ face. The necromantic energy fused from Zerys’ face through Qiroy’s hand, but the flow was halted within an instant.
“You’re not dying”, growled Qiroy as he unsheated his blood red steel dagger.
* * *
Zerys was still shook up, but he slowly regained his mind. When he opened his eyes, it was only to get his vision clouded by a withered hand. His skin tingled with negative energy as he felt his life slip trough his pores. He had almost resigned when he felt his life coming back. Qiroy swore and that was the only cue Zerys needed to smash the Blood of Vol priest in the gut. He jumped to his feets and looked at Lastrem, who had freed himself from Lia’s grasp.
“Stand back or I’ll throw it”, said Zerys as he extended his arm over the rail.
As he threatened to drop the rotten heart, Qiroy stood still, trying to make sense of what he just read on Zerys’ lips. Beside him, the acolyte backed up a few feet. Lastrem moved beside Zerys, always keeping Lia locked in his gaze. The changeling kept her knees crouched to spring at the first hint of Zerys droping the artifact.
“Thanks for the hospitality”, said Lastrem as he grapped Zerys’ arm. “Allow me to repay your kindnesses with a poem.”
“Choosing your face to suit your needs”, Lastrem began.
“I glanced at you, my mind was seized
Whatever look has your pretty face
I am trapped by your self-turning grace"
* * *
“Put off that mask, and we’ll stay together
For you’ve catched my rotten heart, forever.”
And he jumped.
The bastard jumped.
Leaving Lia with a wink, a bow, and an infuriated Qiroy at her side, Lastrem jumped, dragging Zerys and the rotten heart with him. As Lia bend over the rail to spot the rogues now falling from the airship, she heard Qiroy shout orders at the captain, who just regained his mind.
The ship started moving, they would soon land on the plains.
Lastrem had escaped, but Lia knew she would catch the thieves.
She always did.
Lisez la conclusion de The rotten heart demain, avec la dernière partie du synopsis !
As Lastrem struggled with Qiroy, trying to ignore his putrid stench, he saw Lia’s dagger gleam with a redish flash. “Zerys”, muttered Lastrem as he tripped Qiroy and sprung on his feet. “We’ll be on our way”, he said to Qiroy as he slashed at his face, aware that his musical magic would soon reach it’s end. Before he could reach Lia, his gaze was strung by a peculiar sight.
Lia was not struggling with Zerys anymore, but with a skeletal bird that peaked at her back. She had had no other choice than to leave Zerys alone and take care of the undead bird instead.
When Lastrem reached Zerys, he was standing and had backed up to the airship’s rail. “Nice wings”, said Lastrem as he took Zerys’ arm to lead him to the ship’s prow. He gripped the corpse collector’s shoulder, feeling the wound through his wool shirt.
Zerys, in a trance induced by his wound, let escape a cry when Lia clashed the bird on the deck. The breaking bone’s noise echoed in the air, like marbles falling on the floor, and left Zerys clinging to the rotten heart. His wound was not helping him regain his mind. Now that the bird’s bones laid scattered across the deck, they needed to get out of there as fast as they could. Lastrem gazed at Qiroy, who had made it back to his feet and was casting as he crossed the deck to catch them.
Zerys was in shock.
Lastrem had a plan, but Zerys wouldn’t survive if he wasn’t in good shape. He would only have a few seconds to heal his friend, so he began chanting immediately. He kept his voice low, but the magic fused from his lips, healing Zerys’ wound within a second. Too busy with his magic, he didn’t see Lia creep right under his nose.
The changeling surprised Lastrem with a strong kick behind the knee. Lastrem managed to keep his balance, but Zerys fell on the deck. He was just regaining consciousness.
When Qiroy noticed Zerys’ wound, he called the powers of the blood to fill his senses with an hunger for death. Praying, Qiroy advanced to Zerys, hoping that Lia would take care of Lastrem before his spell was done. Most of the crew had regained their senses and the elemental was regaining it’s fiery red glow. The acolyte shook from his fear ridden torpor and moved to Qiroy’s side.
While Lia took care of Lastrem, Qiroy pointed his hand at Zerys. Both men’s eyes locked when Qiroy shoved his hand in Zerys’ face. The necromantic energy fused from Zerys’ face through Qiroy’s hand, but the flow was halted within an instant.
“You’re not dying”, growled Qiroy as he unsheated his blood red steel dagger.
Zerys was still shook up, but he slowly regained his mind. When he opened his eyes, it was only to get his vision clouded by a withered hand. His skin tingled with negative energy as he felt his life slip trough his pores. He had almost resigned when he felt his life coming back. Qiroy swore and that was the only cue Zerys needed to smash the Blood of Vol priest in the gut. He jumped to his feets and looked at Lastrem, who had freed himself from Lia’s grasp.
“Stand back or I’ll throw it”, said Zerys as he extended his arm over the rail.
As he threatened to drop the rotten heart, Qiroy stood still, trying to make sense of what he just read on Zerys’ lips. Beside him, the acolyte backed up a few feet. Lastrem moved beside Zerys, always keeping Lia locked in his gaze. The changeling kept her knees crouched to spring at the first hint of Zerys droping the artifact.
“Thanks for the hospitality”, said Lastrem as he grapped Zerys’ arm. “Allow me to repay your kindnesses with a poem.”
“Choosing your face to suit your needs”, Lastrem began.
“I glanced at you, my mind was seized
Whatever look has your pretty face
I am trapped by your self-turning grace"
“Put off that mask, and we’ll stay together
For you’ve catched my rotten heart, forever.”
And he jumped.
The bastard jumped.
Leaving Lia with a wink, a bow, and an infuriated Qiroy at her side, Lastrem jumped, dragging Zerys and the rotten heart with him. As Lia bend over the rail to spot the rogues now falling from the airship, she heard Qiroy shout orders at the captain, who just regained his mind.
The ship started moving, they would soon land on the plains.
Lastrem had escaped, but Lia knew she would catch the thieves.
She always did.
Lisez la conclusion de The rotten heart demain, avec la dernière partie du synopsis !
Le coeur pourri, troisième partie
Nous retrouvons nos héros fraichement évadés de la cale du airship. Leur objectif: retrouver le Coeur pouri avant de s'enfuir.
When Qiroy bent to break the birds neck, he was thrown aside by the ships abrupt stop. Tightly gripping the rotten heart, he left the bird’s corpse to rot on the deck and ran to the helm.
The gnome still held the commands, but his face was blank.
Qiroy pushed him aside and gripped the helm with his free hand. He felt the elemental’s fear, but couldn’t understand why the entity was so afraid. Qiroy was not an expert in elemental control, but he knew he would never be able to get the elemental out of it’s trance singlehanded. Putting the rotten heart in his robe’s pockets, he grabbed the helm with both hands.
The telepathic link that established between Qiroy and the elemental was precarious, as if the thing was panicked. What is a fire elemental’s mind made of ? Qiroy wondered as he tried to pierce the entity’s trust with is own spirit. Nothing would do. Exhausted by his failure, Qiroy backed up and called to the powers of the Blood.
* * *
The second she heard Lastrem’s voice, Lia swung her gaze from the dying bird to the trap door. Aware that the song could affect the crew of the vessel as well as the elemental that drove it, she made sure to keep her balance. Does Lastrem thinks children spooks can freak me out ?, she wondered as she watched him stumble out of the hold. She thought about yelling to Qiroy, but the half-deaf priest wouldn’t flicker at her calls. Anyway, she could take care of the thief herself.
Under the darkening flames of the bound elemental, Lia regained her balance and sprung after Lastrem, who ran to the shady spot where an acolyte hid like a scared child. As if protecting himself from invisible foes, the acolyte brandished his weapon to nothingness. The blade shone under the dark fire. Lastrem could not have missed the flash of metal.
A few paces before he could reach the acolyte’s dagger, Lia caught Lastrem’s shoulder. She had always been a fast runner. Unsheating her short sword, she punched at Lastrem, who dodged the attack. She liked the guy, but she would not let him spoil her contract. And his darned tune was really getting on her nerves. How could he carry on singing while he ran and fought ? That Lastrem was never out of surprises.
Moving sideway, Lastrem slid around Lia, tripping her as he tried to catch the dagger. She took advantage of her fall to kick Lastrem in the ribs.
* * *
Lastrem’s singing stopped when Lia stole his breath. The bitch had pointy boots.
And the scared acolyte had a sharp dagger.
Almost in Lastrem’s reach.
If only he could stop swinging it back and forth. The scared man stared at the fighting couple as if they were abberations from Xoriat. And he fighted as if. Lastrem made the most of the man’s strikes to push Lia aside and grab her sword.
Then, the moment came when he could have killed Lia. Her throat was right beneath the tip of his sword. Instead, he stole her a kiss and pushed her against the acolyte.
“Don’t hurt her to much”, he said as he jumped on his feet and sprung out of reach. “I’d like to keep a piece of her myself.”
Where was the rotten heart ?
Lastrem walked across the deck, trying to spot the Emerald Claws commander. He must have kept the heart on himself, thought Lastrem as he ran to the helm, Qiroy would not make that mistake twice.
The putrescence of the artifact reached Lastrem’s nostrils when he came near Qiroy. How could Zerys have been fooled when the artifact was so smelly ?, wondered Lastrem. The rumors must be true, corpse collectors really get their olfactive system burned through their training.
While he pondered about Zerys’ credulity, Lastrem crept behind Qiroy, whose closed eyes were a benediction. How could Lastrem reach the rotten heart without alerting Qiroy. Even his stealth could not allow him to get his fingers inside the cleric’s robes. Anyway, it would have been disgusting to caress the torso of a man who bathed in dead bodies.
Lastrem thought too long. Qiroy backed up and began chanting macabre Blood of Vol verses. At least, the cleric hadn’t seen him. Lastrem moved beside Qiroy, and shoved his fist in the man’s face.
* * *
Zerys waited in the hold for almost a minute, covering his ears with both hands. The skeletal rat waited beside his feets, awaiting orders.
When he found Lastrem had stopped singing, Zerys uncovered his ears. After hiding the rat in his pocket, he headed for the ladder. On the deck, he looked around. The crew’s constant working sounds had stopped, as if something terrible had happened, like when all birds of a wood stop singing.
His eyes locked with Lia’s, who had freed herself from the acolyte’s delirium. Lia didn’t care looking at Zerys for long. The acolyte’s dagger in her hand, she jumped to her feet and ran to the helm. Zerys let the trap door shut behind them.
Zerys’ gaze following the changeling, he soon found Lastrem tearing the cleric’s robe appart. He then saw him rip Qiroy’s heart from his chest with his bare fingers.
Zerys stared, breathless.
Suddenly, he realised.
The rotten heart.
Lia was almost on the bard, but he kicked her before she could reach him. Zerys shouted and Lastrem threw the rotten heart.
Zerys watched the artifact fly from Lastrem’s hands. He ran to catch the it, but the rotten heart bounced on his fingers. It took Zerys all his care not to make the bloodstone fall overboard. The artifact hit the deck with a squishing sound and slid on the planks as Zerys ran to catch it.
As he reached for the rotten heart, pain erupted in his back when Lia’s dagger pierced his shoulder. Zerys’ fingers were a few inches from the artifact when he fell on the deck, his body convulsed by pain.
This darned changeling should not even be here. Zerys wanted to kill her, but he knew he didn’t stand a chance. Even Lastrem didn’t stand a chance against her. His only salute was to grab the rotten heart. Zerys extended his arm.
As soon as he touched the heart, he felt it’s power fuse through his veins. So, this rotten piece of flesh was the source of his necromantic might. Commuting with the rotten heart, he felt every corpses within the ship. He concentrated his power upon the only corpse that laid on the deck.
By that time, Lia had reached Zerys. With one hand, she tried to grab the rotten heart. With the other, she removed the dagger from Zerys’ back.
“You’ll be dead within a seconds”, said the changeling, raising the blood dripping blade.
À suivre...
When Qiroy bent to break the birds neck, he was thrown aside by the ships abrupt stop. Tightly gripping the rotten heart, he left the bird’s corpse to rot on the deck and ran to the helm.
The gnome still held the commands, but his face was blank.
Qiroy pushed him aside and gripped the helm with his free hand. He felt the elemental’s fear, but couldn’t understand why the entity was so afraid. Qiroy was not an expert in elemental control, but he knew he would never be able to get the elemental out of it’s trance singlehanded. Putting the rotten heart in his robe’s pockets, he grabbed the helm with both hands.
The telepathic link that established between Qiroy and the elemental was precarious, as if the thing was panicked. What is a fire elemental’s mind made of ? Qiroy wondered as he tried to pierce the entity’s trust with is own spirit. Nothing would do. Exhausted by his failure, Qiroy backed up and called to the powers of the Blood.
The second she heard Lastrem’s voice, Lia swung her gaze from the dying bird to the trap door. Aware that the song could affect the crew of the vessel as well as the elemental that drove it, she made sure to keep her balance. Does Lastrem thinks children spooks can freak me out ?, she wondered as she watched him stumble out of the hold. She thought about yelling to Qiroy, but the half-deaf priest wouldn’t flicker at her calls. Anyway, she could take care of the thief herself.
Under the darkening flames of the bound elemental, Lia regained her balance and sprung after Lastrem, who ran to the shady spot where an acolyte hid like a scared child. As if protecting himself from invisible foes, the acolyte brandished his weapon to nothingness. The blade shone under the dark fire. Lastrem could not have missed the flash of metal.
A few paces before he could reach the acolyte’s dagger, Lia caught Lastrem’s shoulder. She had always been a fast runner. Unsheating her short sword, she punched at Lastrem, who dodged the attack. She liked the guy, but she would not let him spoil her contract. And his darned tune was really getting on her nerves. How could he carry on singing while he ran and fought ? That Lastrem was never out of surprises.
Moving sideway, Lastrem slid around Lia, tripping her as he tried to catch the dagger. She took advantage of her fall to kick Lastrem in the ribs.
Lastrem’s singing stopped when Lia stole his breath. The bitch had pointy boots.
And the scared acolyte had a sharp dagger.
Almost in Lastrem’s reach.
If only he could stop swinging it back and forth. The scared man stared at the fighting couple as if they were abberations from Xoriat. And he fighted as if. Lastrem made the most of the man’s strikes to push Lia aside and grab her sword.
Then, the moment came when he could have killed Lia. Her throat was right beneath the tip of his sword. Instead, he stole her a kiss and pushed her against the acolyte.
“Don’t hurt her to much”, he said as he jumped on his feet and sprung out of reach. “I’d like to keep a piece of her myself.”
Where was the rotten heart ?
Lastrem walked across the deck, trying to spot the Emerald Claws commander. He must have kept the heart on himself, thought Lastrem as he ran to the helm, Qiroy would not make that mistake twice.
The putrescence of the artifact reached Lastrem’s nostrils when he came near Qiroy. How could Zerys have been fooled when the artifact was so smelly ?, wondered Lastrem. The rumors must be true, corpse collectors really get their olfactive system burned through their training.
While he pondered about Zerys’ credulity, Lastrem crept behind Qiroy, whose closed eyes were a benediction. How could Lastrem reach the rotten heart without alerting Qiroy. Even his stealth could not allow him to get his fingers inside the cleric’s robes. Anyway, it would have been disgusting to caress the torso of a man who bathed in dead bodies.
Lastrem thought too long. Qiroy backed up and began chanting macabre Blood of Vol verses. At least, the cleric hadn’t seen him. Lastrem moved beside Qiroy, and shoved his fist in the man’s face.
Zerys waited in the hold for almost a minute, covering his ears with both hands. The skeletal rat waited beside his feets, awaiting orders.
When he found Lastrem had stopped singing, Zerys uncovered his ears. After hiding the rat in his pocket, he headed for the ladder. On the deck, he looked around. The crew’s constant working sounds had stopped, as if something terrible had happened, like when all birds of a wood stop singing.
His eyes locked with Lia’s, who had freed herself from the acolyte’s delirium. Lia didn’t care looking at Zerys for long. The acolyte’s dagger in her hand, she jumped to her feet and ran to the helm. Zerys let the trap door shut behind them.
Zerys’ gaze following the changeling, he soon found Lastrem tearing the cleric’s robe appart. He then saw him rip Qiroy’s heart from his chest with his bare fingers.
Zerys stared, breathless.
Suddenly, he realised.
The rotten heart.
Lia was almost on the bard, but he kicked her before she could reach him. Zerys shouted and Lastrem threw the rotten heart.
Zerys watched the artifact fly from Lastrem’s hands. He ran to catch the it, but the rotten heart bounced on his fingers. It took Zerys all his care not to make the bloodstone fall overboard. The artifact hit the deck with a squishing sound and slid on the planks as Zerys ran to catch it.
As he reached for the rotten heart, pain erupted in his back when Lia’s dagger pierced his shoulder. Zerys’ fingers were a few inches from the artifact when he fell on the deck, his body convulsed by pain.
This darned changeling should not even be here. Zerys wanted to kill her, but he knew he didn’t stand a chance. Even Lastrem didn’t stand a chance against her. His only salute was to grab the rotten heart. Zerys extended his arm.
As soon as he touched the heart, he felt it’s power fuse through his veins. So, this rotten piece of flesh was the source of his necromantic might. Commuting with the rotten heart, he felt every corpses within the ship. He concentrated his power upon the only corpse that laid on the deck.
By that time, Lia had reached Zerys. With one hand, she tried to grab the rotten heart. With the other, she removed the dagger from Zerys’ back.
“You’ll be dead within a seconds”, said the changeling, raising the blood dripping blade.
À suivre...
Le coeur pourri, deuxième partie
Après avoir été capturés par Qiroy et faits prisonniers dans la cale de leur airship, Lastrem et Zerys tentent de s'évader...
Zerys’ left brow twitched as he concentrated on the corpse. He tried to focus, to visualise the rotting flesh shrinking, stripping itself from the bones. But all he saw was that dwarven corpse, old and rotten. Zerys struggled to free his hands, but the rope that bound them was too tight. Exhausted, he surrendered to despair.
“I’ve got something to tell you.”
Zerys opened his eyes. He stared at the corpse as Lastrem spoke.
“The rotten heart.”
Zerys’ eyes widened.
“Your powers came from the rotten heart.”
Zerys growled. He closed his eyes. When he reopened them, they were full of tears. Anger crept through his spine, his fingertips tickling to strangle Lastrem. Once again, he tried to free his hands, but all he did was thighten the knots, preventing the blood from getting to his fingers. His palm felt as if it would explode if it didn’t rip appart Lastrem’s throath. Instead, words eructed from his mouth.
“Dirty pirate bastard ! I should not have trusted you. I just hope they kill you first so I can watch you…”
The words froze Zerys’ tongue.
Lastrem wanted to apologize, but Zerys’s silence roused his curiosity. Lastrem tried to turn his head, but all he could see was the hold’s ceilling.
Zerys stared at the corpse. Even if it would not move when he tried to animate it, it now convulsed as if caught by an irresistible dance.
That’s not how it should work, tought Zerys.
The boiling fat sould dissolve the flesh.
The eyeballs should crumble to dust.
The motion stopped and, as Zerys wondered if he had been hallucinating, a tiny creature struggled to free itself from the corpse’s weight. The skeletal rat extirped it’s bones from under the rotten flesh and, when his empty eye sockets crossed Zerys’ gaze, Zerys felt a connection, as if the creature and he were a kin mind. Zerys had already controled undead, but only his word mattered then, not his thoughts.
The rotten heart.
It must have been the rotten heart.
I should escape and leave Lastrem to die, thought Zerys as the undead sensed his command and moved behind Zerys’ back.
“What are you doing Zerys ?”, asked Lastrem. “Isn’t worth anything wasting your energy on magic. You’re just a corpse collector, remember ? An ex-corpse collector. Not a necromancer… What’s that ? Zerys ?”
As Lastrem talked, Zerys’ anger kept increasing. His hands were free, but he didn’t want to spoil his trick. The rat’s teeths were sharp. They could sever more than rope. Zerys would free Lastrem, but not without a price for his treachery.
Lastrem screamed a second before Zerys felt the mind-reaching taste of his blood. Enough, thought Zerys as he raised, cut the rope now. He walked to face Lastrem, whose expression was a mix of pain and confusion.
“You’ve got powers after all…”, Lastrem said, “I hope you’ll thank me waking them.”
* * *
Qiroy sat in the captain’s quarters, scrutinising the rotten flesh that enclosed the bloodstone. He relished the faint putrefaction that emanated from the rotten heart and thought about keeping it for himself. Burrowing his head in his notebook, he wrote down every observation. The only missing thing was actual experimentation.
When Qiroy was done describing the item, he stood and headed for the deck. He should find some corpse on which to experiment the powers of the artifact. A shame the master wants the thieves alive, thought Qiroy as he looked across the deck in search of a test subject. For a few seconds, he stared at Lia, who bent over the rail, looking at the plains from above. “That would make a pretty zombie”, mumbled Qiroy as he moved his gaze to a bird perched on a mast. He began praying.
A ray of pale light erupted from Qiroy’s palm, striking the big white bird straight in the chest. The bird creaked, and fell on the deck.
* * *
Lastrem climbed the ladder leading to the hatch. He pressed his back to the trap door, but as much as he tried, he could not open it. “Now that’s a problem”, muttered Lastrem as he tried to remember the trap door’s mechanism. “I’ll need a piece of string”, said Lastrem, turning to Zerys. His bloody fingers stained the wooden ceiling when he removed a shard of wood from the trap door.
Once Zerys sampled a string on the dwarven corpse, Lastrem began humming a strange tune that sounded like a children’s rhyme. After a few seconds of humming and gesturing, the string entangled around the wooden splinter. The trinket hovered over Lastrem’s hand, then it disapeared, turning itself into a translusent ectoplasm which instantly slid through the hatch’s cracks.
“It’s the hand that’ll set us free”, rhymed Lastrem as he mentally asked the hand to remove the latch from the door, “One can’t hear. One can’t see. Is the rotten heart for me ?”. Pushing his back against the trap door, he motioned Zerys to cover his ears.
As he looked at the crew tending the ship, Lastrem hummed a creepy ballad, projecting his voice through the trap door so that it reached most of the crew working on the deck.
Demain, la suite de ce chapitre de The rotten heart...
Zerys’ left brow twitched as he concentrated on the corpse. He tried to focus, to visualise the rotting flesh shrinking, stripping itself from the bones. But all he saw was that dwarven corpse, old and rotten. Zerys struggled to free his hands, but the rope that bound them was too tight. Exhausted, he surrendered to despair.
“I’ve got something to tell you.”
Zerys opened his eyes. He stared at the corpse as Lastrem spoke.
“The rotten heart.”
Zerys’ eyes widened.
“Your powers came from the rotten heart.”
Zerys growled. He closed his eyes. When he reopened them, they were full of tears. Anger crept through his spine, his fingertips tickling to strangle Lastrem. Once again, he tried to free his hands, but all he did was thighten the knots, preventing the blood from getting to his fingers. His palm felt as if it would explode if it didn’t rip appart Lastrem’s throath. Instead, words eructed from his mouth.
“Dirty pirate bastard ! I should not have trusted you. I just hope they kill you first so I can watch you…”
The words froze Zerys’ tongue.
Lastrem wanted to apologize, but Zerys’s silence roused his curiosity. Lastrem tried to turn his head, but all he could see was the hold’s ceilling.
Zerys stared at the corpse. Even if it would not move when he tried to animate it, it now convulsed as if caught by an irresistible dance.
That’s not how it should work, tought Zerys.
The boiling fat sould dissolve the flesh.
The eyeballs should crumble to dust.
The motion stopped and, as Zerys wondered if he had been hallucinating, a tiny creature struggled to free itself from the corpse’s weight. The skeletal rat extirped it’s bones from under the rotten flesh and, when his empty eye sockets crossed Zerys’ gaze, Zerys felt a connection, as if the creature and he were a kin mind. Zerys had already controled undead, but only his word mattered then, not his thoughts.
The rotten heart.
It must have been the rotten heart.
I should escape and leave Lastrem to die, thought Zerys as the undead sensed his command and moved behind Zerys’ back.
“What are you doing Zerys ?”, asked Lastrem. “Isn’t worth anything wasting your energy on magic. You’re just a corpse collector, remember ? An ex-corpse collector. Not a necromancer… What’s that ? Zerys ?”
As Lastrem talked, Zerys’ anger kept increasing. His hands were free, but he didn’t want to spoil his trick. The rat’s teeths were sharp. They could sever more than rope. Zerys would free Lastrem, but not without a price for his treachery.
Lastrem screamed a second before Zerys felt the mind-reaching taste of his blood. Enough, thought Zerys as he raised, cut the rope now. He walked to face Lastrem, whose expression was a mix of pain and confusion.
“You’ve got powers after all…”, Lastrem said, “I hope you’ll thank me waking them.”
Qiroy sat in the captain’s quarters, scrutinising the rotten flesh that enclosed the bloodstone. He relished the faint putrefaction that emanated from the rotten heart and thought about keeping it for himself. Burrowing his head in his notebook, he wrote down every observation. The only missing thing was actual experimentation.
When Qiroy was done describing the item, he stood and headed for the deck. He should find some corpse on which to experiment the powers of the artifact. A shame the master wants the thieves alive, thought Qiroy as he looked across the deck in search of a test subject. For a few seconds, he stared at Lia, who bent over the rail, looking at the plains from above. “That would make a pretty zombie”, mumbled Qiroy as he moved his gaze to a bird perched on a mast. He began praying.
A ray of pale light erupted from Qiroy’s palm, striking the big white bird straight in the chest. The bird creaked, and fell on the deck.
Lastrem climbed the ladder leading to the hatch. He pressed his back to the trap door, but as much as he tried, he could not open it. “Now that’s a problem”, muttered Lastrem as he tried to remember the trap door’s mechanism. “I’ll need a piece of string”, said Lastrem, turning to Zerys. His bloody fingers stained the wooden ceiling when he removed a shard of wood from the trap door.
Once Zerys sampled a string on the dwarven corpse, Lastrem began humming a strange tune that sounded like a children’s rhyme. After a few seconds of humming and gesturing, the string entangled around the wooden splinter. The trinket hovered over Lastrem’s hand, then it disapeared, turning itself into a translusent ectoplasm which instantly slid through the hatch’s cracks.
“It’s the hand that’ll set us free”, rhymed Lastrem as he mentally asked the hand to remove the latch from the door, “One can’t hear. One can’t see. Is the rotten heart for me ?”. Pushing his back against the trap door, he motioned Zerys to cover his ears.
As he looked at the crew tending the ship, Lastrem hummed a creepy ballad, projecting his voice through the trap door so that it reached most of the crew working on the deck.
Demain, la suite de ce chapitre de The rotten heart...
Le coeur pourri, première partie
À la suite de la lecture du blogue de Jonathan Reynolds, j'ai repensé à un texte, écrit en 2004, qui a un lien très fort avec les jeux de rôles. Ce texte n'est pas de la fan fiction, mais plutôt une proposition que j'ai soumise à Wizards of the Coast quand ils ont fait un appel de textes pour trouver l'auteur d'un roman se déroulant dans le monde d'Eberron, qui venait d'être publié. Malheureusement, mon projet n'avait pas été choisi, mais la compétition était féroce ! Plus de 400 soumissions, certaines provenant d'écrivains professionnels.
Après ces 5 ans à dormir sur mon disque dur, voici enfin, pour votre bon plaisir, le texte de cette proposition. Évidemment, le texte a été rédigé en anglais, alors c'est dans cette langue que vous le trouverez. Les éléments de cette proposition ne proviennent pas de parties de jeu de rôle. C'est plutôt l'inverse, car j'ai utilisé plusieurs éléments de cette proposition pour construire des campagnes, par exemple les personnages de Lastrem et Lia, ainsi que l'objet magique qui justifie toutes leurs aventures, le dégoutant Coeur pourri, aussi appelé Rotten heart ou, en langage Quori, le Lethath Dalath. Les personnages de Lia et Lastrem se trouvent aussi, sous une forme modifiée, dans mon roman en rédaction Cadavres de cristal.
Voici la première partie du synopsis du roman qui devait s'intituler :
The rotten heart
Fired from the Vault of the Dead at the end of the Last War, ex-corpse collector ZERYS works in an Aturian tavern secretly sponsored by the Order of the Emerald Claw. There he meets LASTREM, a barman (and a bard) from the Lhazzar Principalities, who enthrals him with stories of undead Valenar warriors and distant ruins. Stealing a few barrels of Nightwood Ale from the tavern, they hire an Orient House caravan to carry them south.
As they make their way trough the Talenta Plains, Lastrem tricks Zerys into believing he has necromantic powers. When the caravan is attacked by Talantean raiders, Zerys and Lastrem flee on freshly raised undead clawfoots, leaving two halflings hungry for revenge. As soon as she discovers Zerys’power, LIA, a femme fatale changeling mercenary who befriended Lastrem on the road, informs the Order of the Emerald Claw that Lastrem and Zerys may be the thieves who stole VOL’s rotten heart, a powerful artifact with necromantic powers.
Using an airship, QIROY, a cleric from the Order of the Emerald Claw, ambushes Lastrem and Zerys from above. Lastrem and Zerys almost escape through a tight chase, but Qiroy gets hold of them, taking back the rotten heart and imprisoning them in the airship’s hold.
À suivre... avec un chapitre complet extrait du roman incomplet !
Note : N'hésitez pas à poser des questions sur le monde si vous n'êtes pas familiers avec Eberron et si, pour cette raison, vous ne comprenez pas toute l'histoire.
Après ces 5 ans à dormir sur mon disque dur, voici enfin, pour votre bon plaisir, le texte de cette proposition. Évidemment, le texte a été rédigé en anglais, alors c'est dans cette langue que vous le trouverez. Les éléments de cette proposition ne proviennent pas de parties de jeu de rôle. C'est plutôt l'inverse, car j'ai utilisé plusieurs éléments de cette proposition pour construire des campagnes, par exemple les personnages de Lastrem et Lia, ainsi que l'objet magique qui justifie toutes leurs aventures, le dégoutant Coeur pourri, aussi appelé Rotten heart ou, en langage Quori, le Lethath Dalath. Les personnages de Lia et Lastrem se trouvent aussi, sous une forme modifiée, dans mon roman en rédaction Cadavres de cristal.
Voici la première partie du synopsis du roman qui devait s'intituler :
The rotten heart
Fired from the Vault of the Dead at the end of the Last War, ex-corpse collector ZERYS works in an Aturian tavern secretly sponsored by the Order of the Emerald Claw. There he meets LASTREM, a barman (and a bard) from the Lhazzar Principalities, who enthrals him with stories of undead Valenar warriors and distant ruins. Stealing a few barrels of Nightwood Ale from the tavern, they hire an Orient House caravan to carry them south.
As they make their way trough the Talenta Plains, Lastrem tricks Zerys into believing he has necromantic powers. When the caravan is attacked by Talantean raiders, Zerys and Lastrem flee on freshly raised undead clawfoots, leaving two halflings hungry for revenge. As soon as she discovers Zerys’power, LIA, a femme fatale changeling mercenary who befriended Lastrem on the road, informs the Order of the Emerald Claw that Lastrem and Zerys may be the thieves who stole VOL’s rotten heart, a powerful artifact with necromantic powers.
Using an airship, QIROY, a cleric from the Order of the Emerald Claw, ambushes Lastrem and Zerys from above. Lastrem and Zerys almost escape through a tight chase, but Qiroy gets hold of them, taking back the rotten heart and imprisoning them in the airship’s hold.
À suivre... avec un chapitre complet extrait du roman incomplet !
Note : N'hésitez pas à poser des questions sur le monde si vous n'êtes pas familiers avec Eberron et si, pour cette raison, vous ne comprenez pas toute l'histoire.
Mea culpa, francophonie
Ici, maintenant, c'est mon mea culpa.
Pardonne-moi, langue française, de critiquer des livres qui n'ont pas encore été traduits !
Personne ne m'a fait de commentaire à ce sujet, mais j'imagine un lecteur lisant la critique d'un roman d'horreur anglophone super cool. Il se lance ensuite dans une recherche en librairie pour le trouver, pour ne découvrir que la triste vérité : ce livre n'a pas été traduit.
Comme la littérature d'horreur n'a pas de langue, je trouve une partie de ma subsistance chez nos voisins du sud, en Angleterre ou même en Australie.
Elle doit être dure, la tâche de l'éditeur qui doit choisir quelles oeuvres traduire parmi toutes les productions anglophones. Si ça peut aider, voici des suggestions de livres qui devraient être traduits au plus vite si quelqu'un ayant ce pouvoir consulte ce billet :
1. The hour before dark, de Douglas Clegg
2. Peaceable kingdom, de Jack Ketchum (nouvelles)
3. Flesh gothic, de Edward Lee
4. The darkest part of the wood, de Ramsey Campbell
Et pour les lecteurs, voici une liste de quelques excellents romans d'horreur qui ont été traduits récemment :
1. Le costume du mort, de Joe Hill (Heart shaped box), traduit en 2008 chez Jean-Claude Lattès et disponible en format poche le 19 novembre chez Livre de Poche.
2. Une fille comme les autres, de Jack Ketchum (The girl next door), traduit en 2007 chez Bragelonne
3. L'antre du cauchemar, de Thomas Tessier (Finishing touches [mais c'est quoi cette traduction merdique du titre ?!]), traduit en 1989 chez Pocket Terreur
Maintenant expié, je peux commettre d'autres crimes !
Pardonne-moi, langue française, de critiquer des livres qui n'ont pas encore été traduits !
Personne ne m'a fait de commentaire à ce sujet, mais j'imagine un lecteur lisant la critique d'un roman d'horreur anglophone super cool. Il se lance ensuite dans une recherche en librairie pour le trouver, pour ne découvrir que la triste vérité : ce livre n'a pas été traduit.
Comme la littérature d'horreur n'a pas de langue, je trouve une partie de ma subsistance chez nos voisins du sud, en Angleterre ou même en Australie.
Elle doit être dure, la tâche de l'éditeur qui doit choisir quelles oeuvres traduire parmi toutes les productions anglophones. Si ça peut aider, voici des suggestions de livres qui devraient être traduits au plus vite si quelqu'un ayant ce pouvoir consulte ce billet :
1. The hour before dark, de Douglas Clegg
2. Peaceable kingdom, de Jack Ketchum (nouvelles)
3. Flesh gothic, de Edward Lee
4. The darkest part of the wood, de Ramsey Campbell
Et pour les lecteurs, voici une liste de quelques excellents romans d'horreur qui ont été traduits récemment :
1. Le costume du mort, de Joe Hill (Heart shaped box), traduit en 2008 chez Jean-Claude Lattès et disponible en format poche le 19 novembre chez Livre de Poche.
2. Une fille comme les autres, de Jack Ketchum (The girl next door), traduit en 2007 chez Bragelonne
3. L'antre du cauchemar, de Thomas Tessier (Finishing touches [mais c'est quoi cette traduction merdique du titre ?!]), traduit en 1989 chez Pocket Terreur
Maintenant expié, je peux commettre d'autres crimes !
Ghoul, de Brian Keene
Dans une entrevue récente, Brian Keene disait que deux de ses livres étaient particulièrement autobiographiques : Dark Hollow et Ghoul. Le premier raconte un peu sa vie d'écrivain, alors que le second raconte son enfance quand il avait 12 ans. C'est vrai que dans ces deux livres, surtout dans Ghoul, le quotidien des personnages est beaucoup plus étoffé que dans ses autres romans. En fait, dans Ghoul, l'horreur ne vient pas seulement de la goule qui se cache dans le cimetière où aiment jouer les trois personnages, mais du quotidien de ces jeunes à mi-chemin entre l'enfance et l'adolescence, dont les vieux sont loin d'être des parents modèles. Barry a un père violent et alcoolique, Doug une mère monoparentale alcoolique et abusive, et Timmy, le héros du roman, a la chance d'avoir des parents normaux, même s'il ne le réalise pas toujours.
Tout au long du roman, la dualité entre les horreurs commises par la goule et celles commises par les adultes est mise au premier plan. Sans s'attacher à la créature, on réalise au fil du roman que ses motivations sont souvent plus justifiables que celle des parents des trois jeunes. Ce roman est une très belle réussite du côté humain.
Côté horreur, on a droit à un monstre très peu utilisé en littérature : la goule. Un être humanoïde nécrophage qui habite sous un cimetière et en dévore les cadavres, car le Bon Dieu leur a interdit de manger de la chair fraiche. Le roman est aussi lié à la mythologie quasi ubiquitaire à l'oeuvre de Keene, ce qui donne de la crédibilité au surnaturel, car cette mythologie est très cohérente entre les romans. Cette même mythologie justifie l'invasion de zombies de The rising et City of the Dead, l'attaque des vers de terre géants dans The conqueror worms (mon préféré de Keene), le satyre de Dark hollow et Ghost walk, et d'autres encore.
Finalement, Ghoul est un bon roman d'horreur très humain qui nous fait réfléchir sur notre enfance et sur nos agissements en tant qu'adulte. Malheureusement pas offert en français pour l'instant.
Tout au long du roman, la dualité entre les horreurs commises par la goule et celles commises par les adultes est mise au premier plan. Sans s'attacher à la créature, on réalise au fil du roman que ses motivations sont souvent plus justifiables que celle des parents des trois jeunes. Ce roman est une très belle réussite du côté humain.
Côté horreur, on a droit à un monstre très peu utilisé en littérature : la goule. Un être humanoïde nécrophage qui habite sous un cimetière et en dévore les cadavres, car le Bon Dieu leur a interdit de manger de la chair fraiche. Le roman est aussi lié à la mythologie quasi ubiquitaire à l'oeuvre de Keene, ce qui donne de la crédibilité au surnaturel, car cette mythologie est très cohérente entre les romans. Cette même mythologie justifie l'invasion de zombies de The rising et City of the Dead, l'attaque des vers de terre géants dans The conqueror worms (mon préféré de Keene), le satyre de Dark hollow et Ghost walk, et d'autres encore.
Finalement, Ghoul est un bon roman d'horreur très humain qui nous fait réfléchir sur notre enfance et sur nos agissements en tant qu'adulte. Malheureusement pas offert en français pour l'instant.
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