Hi guys, we have Kim Fielding stopping by today with her upcoming re-release Flux, we have a great guest post, and a great excerpt so check out the post and enjoy! ❤ ~Pixie~
Ennek, the son of Praesidium’s Chief, has rescued Miner from a terrible fate: suspension in a dreamless frozen state called Stasis, the punishment for traitors. As the two men flee Praesidium by sea, their adventures are only beginning. Although they may be free from the tyranny of their homeland, new difficulties await them as Miner faces the continuing consequences of his slavery and Ennek struggles with controlling his newfound powers as a wizard.
Now fugitives, Ennek and Miner encounter challenges both human and magical as they explore new lands and their deepening relationship with each other.
Hi! I’m Kim Fielding, and today I’m talking about two of my favorite things: my books and travel.
The book part first, because of course I want to get you so excited about the new one that your fingers are itching to click the Preorder button. The new book is Flux, and it releases from DSP Publications on September 6. It’s the second in a series, so if you haven’t already read Stasis, well, you have an outstanding opportunity to do so now! Stasis was about a reluctant wizard and the slave he saves from a terrible punishment. Now in Flux, we follow these two men—Ennek and Miner—as they flee their home and encounter danger and adventures abroad. Pirates. Wizards. Stubborn royalty. Slightly unnatural natural disasters. They also find some unexpected allies and learn a great deal more about each other.
And that brings me to my second subject, travel. Because while almost all of Stasis took place in a single building, in Flux, Ennek and Miner never stay put for long. They reflect, in part, my own taste for wandering. I worked on Flux all over the state of California, north and south; beach, valley, and mountain. And I worked on it in Mexico, Italy, and Croatia. I wrote the end of it while on board a ship in the Pacific. I can’t say that my travels have ever been as exciting as Ennek and Miner’s, but even little trips can bring adventures of their own.
Like a recent quickie road trip, for instance. Feeling itchy-footed, I recruited my younger daughter plus Amy Lane and a good portion of her family, and we spent a day poking around gold rush country. That’s not so far from home—just a couple of hours’ drive—yet those old mining settlements bring surprises. Like California’s shortest highway, which is about a half- mile long, and a friendly restaurant owner who popped out of his establishment to tell us about the resident ghost.
And speaking of ghosts! After Amy and her crew headed back home, my daughter and I spent two nights in hotels. Both hotels were built in 1857 and both are supposed to be haunted. At the Cary House in Placerville, we failed to see any sign of Stan, who was killed by a jealous husband and now, so we were told, is occasionally spotted on the second floor. But then we got to the City Hotel in Columbia, and twice my iPad began playing music by itself. One of those times, we weren’t even using it. It’s never done that before. And at midnight, my daughter jumped out of her bed and crawled into mine, claiming she’d felt someone sitting down on her mattress. Ghosts? Who knows. But we certainly enjoyed ourselves.
So that brings me back to Flux. One of the joys of books is that they allow us to wander even when circumstances tie us to home. And those literary wanderings can be bigger and more thrilling than real life—and less likely to involve tired 13-year-olds with overactive imaginations.
What are some of your favorite travels, either real or imaginary?
They shouldn’t have wasted moisture on tears. The vomiting hadn’t helped either. By the time the sun set, the bits of Miner’s exposed skin—his face, his hands—felt hot and sore, and both men were as dry as old paper. Ennek had slept most of the day, slumped against Miner’s chest, but as the sky alit with oranges and reds, he stirred.
“I’m sorry,” he said in a sandpaper voice.
“Not being… better. Stronger. Smarter.”
Miner wasn’t sure whether to laugh at Ennek’s foolishness or cry at the man’s inability to see his own worth. He ended up doing neither, instead caressing Ennek’s back under the shredded shirt, murmuring nonsense syllables at him like a parent might to a distressed child. After a time Ennek pulled away a little. His eyes were very shiny, but he wasn’t crying. “I think we’re not far from land,” he said.
“I saw a gull this morning.”
Ennek nodded. “Good. I can try to steer us to shore. I’m not sure how soon I can row us there, though—”
“You’re in no condition to row us anywhere,” Miner said, because Ennek was still pale and drawn.
“Well, neither are you.” Ennek pointed at Miner’s wrist. Then he frowned and took a closer look at the cut on Miner’s arm. “And this is beginning to fester. You’re dehydrated too.”
“So are you. So much water and nothing to drink.”
Ennek looked out over the edge of the boat and frowned in concentration. “I’ll wager I could remove the salt,” he said, almost to himself.
“You’ve already made yourself sick enough doing magic,” Miner protested.
But Ennek ignored him. He knelt and leaned over the side, scooping up a double handful of sea. Then his frown deepened for a moment and he brought his hands to his face. He sipped cautiously at the liquid and then grinned triumphantly. “It worked! Come here.”
Miner considered arguing but decided that would be pointless. He scooted around until he was next to Ennek, also along the side of the boat.
“Get some water,” Ennek said.
Miner stole a glance over the edge and imagined himself hanging over as Ennek had just done. “I… I can’t.”
Ennek gave him a patient smile. “That’s all right. It probably wouldn’t have worked with your wrist anyway. Hang on.” He leaned over again and brought up more water. “Drink it before it drips away.”
Miner leaned down and put his lips above Ennek’s palms. It was a strangely intimate thing to do, to drink from someone else’s cupped hands. But the water tasted only a bit brackish, and it felt wonderful as it moistened his tongue and throat. He drank it all, and then Ennek gave him another handful and another, and he would have kept on going, but when Miner saw him begin to sway and noticed the way his breaths became harsher, Miner stopped him. “Drink some yourself,” he insisted.
Ennek managed to drink only two handfuls before he collapsed.
“Don’t you dare throw up that water!” Miner said anxiously, moving Ennek’s head into his lap.
“Trying not to.”
Miner rubbed softly at Ennek’s temple. He didn’t know if would help, but he doubted it would hurt. He felt so useless, just sitting there like a great, timid lump. Ennek closed his eyes, and Miner thought he might have fallen asleep. But then ten or fifteen minutes later, he opened them again. “This is a stupid way to die.”
Kim Fielding is very pleased every time someone calls her eclectic. Her books have won Rainbow Awards and span a variety of genres. She has migrated back and forth across the western two-thirds of the United States and currently lives in California, where she long ago ran out of bookshelf space. She’s a university professor who dreams of being able to travel and write full time. She also dreams of having two perfectly behaved children, a husband who isn’t obsessed with football, and a house that cleans itself. Some dreams are more easily obtained than others.