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 War of the World Makers

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    If Ian Tregillis and Jodi Taylor gave birth to a novel determined to rewrite the history of the past century in the most unique and bizarre way imaginable, it would be WAR OF THE WORLD MAKERS.

            - Brendan Deneen
              Macmillan Entertainment Director, Tor editor, and Author of "The Ninth Circle"



    The novel is packed with a good share of strong and magically powerful women, in the roles of both heroine and villain. The landscape throws a curve every few chapters, the characters believable despite the often grand and unbelievably bizarre setting, and if you like mystery, violence, and horror-like dark literature, then you'll be ecstatic.

            - Del Sol Press



     

    A Dark Science-Fantasy Time War

    Inspired by a mad vision of the philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche, a centuries-old time war is being fought to determine the destiny of the human race. The turning points of conflict are the world wars of the 20th century.

    World Maker Czarina Catherine II joins forces with her younger self, the Princess Von Anhalt, as well as spell crafter Zolo Bold and World Maker Niccollo Paganini to face an implacable foe, the most brilliant mind to ever reinvent the future: Leonardo Da Vinci. He has returned in the 21st century as Master Edison Godfellow, inventor and magician supreme.

    WAR OF THE WORLD MAKERS is a unique, science-fantasy time war novel that features both horror and thriller elements.
    Godfellow is the immortal offspring of a being who fell to earth from the stars thousands of years before. Influenced by Nietzsche, he desires to replace the human race with a new world order of The Overman, and extend his dominion to the stars with the help of his elite magi-tech strike force, the Dio Soldati, and a cadre of handpicked sorcerous minions.

    Unknown to Godfellow though, one of his allies, the ancient Mongol Prince Temujin Gur, has his own plans for violating a forbidden magical boundary and raising Ghengis Khan from the ashes. If the World Makers fail to defeat him, all of Europe will perish and history will be rewritten in the darkest way imaginable. And if the World Makers fail to create a new time stream in the 20th century by rerouting or stopping the two world wars, the dominoes will fall to Godfellow in the 21st. With the aid of his elite forces and an American military drone fleet augmented by dark sorcery, he will sweep the Earth and realize his tragic vision of The Overman poised to invade the stars.



    About the Author, Reilly Michaels

      Reilly Michaels is an artist, filmmaker, and writer who spends his time between New York and LA. "War of the World Makers" is his first SFF novel. He has thrived on fantasy and SF since the age of 14, and his darker experimental work has appeared in such journals as North American Review and Conjunctions, among others. He lives with a wonderful wife and various creatures, and he still feels the Bern.



    Samples From "War of the World Makers"


          Freddie thought it odd, especially after all she'd been through, that the idea of provoking her mother still found great appeal. She gazed down at the broken tubes, the electric spats and barrels and cylinders, the twisted and pounded black chassis of the World Stormer. Her father's most wondrous invention--a bit of matter that was part of a whole beyond the power of any god or God; and just like the castle Barenthoren, like the living woods and grasses, like the water in the ground and in the sky: all born of stars. The wandering between one time of Earth and another made her look inside herself for a universal constant, and in the madness of swirling Time, she found it in the simple thought of the night sky, in that timeless void of all creation.
          She knew that one day she would stand in this same place, perhaps a million years from now, and nothing would be left of Anhalt, or the castle. Even the dust of it would have long since been blown by winds to other lands, of no more consequence than the echo of a voice dying in the mountains. But the stars would still be unchanged, the eternal need for creation still there, twinkling down forever.



    As soon as the midnight clock struck the year 1744 A.D., the black clouds of winter above the tents of Zolo's sleeping soldiers began to moan like dying women--an unholy moan far more frightening than mere storm. Kazakh sentries on patrol that night froze in fear, staring at each other like mystified children until one of them broke the spell by screaming, his head and finger pointing upward. As one, the sentries lifted their eyes to see flaming giants raining down on them from the fathomless black. Scores fell in thunder, their bodies searing the air like lightning, and once they finished their call to gravity, the noise as each one struck ground sounded as if God himself were pounding a weeping Earth.
         And no respite was allowed.
         From west to east along the Bukhtarma River Valley, the hail of fiery giants mercilessly descended. Thousands of soldiers died at the moment of first fall, others shivering with horrible burns. All those not paralyzed, dead or wounded, ran shrieking into the darkness, their heads filled with a vision of unforgettable Hell.
         Zolo was jolted awake after an impact of giant less than twenty yards from his tent. He sprang from his bed of horse blankets, believing an earthquake had cut short his dream of the Chinese Emperor humping a huge rat. As he scrambled for balance, his ears already hurting with the shrieking death sounds of his men, his black-and-ivory striped djinn named Azamat bowed to him. No taller than a cat on hind legs, Azamat calmly parted the tent flaps and Zolo, wearing only his camel-hair trousers, ran cursing into the flaming night--still blinking and woozy, but mad for answers.
         Several terrified camp guards and soldiers whined and hopped past him in every direction like twice-bitten dogs, and then he saw it, the source of their terror: a colossal human-like body on fire so close he could almost touch it. What was it? An angel? Was God once again culling out rebellious divinities and hurling them down to the hell of Earth? Zolo heard cannon-like booming in the distance and gazed up to see more giants falling from the black sky not only close to him, but many miles down the valley, some vanishing behind a distant ridge of hills in the southwest. The forest there, as well as the trees surrounding his camp, already licked and snapped with heat. A fire storm of enormous size appeared inevitable.
         All of his men would die unless he acted quickly.
         But towards what end?
         He knew not the identity of his enemy and therefore could not strike in retaliation or reverse the terrible spell that dropped the fireball goliaths. Instinctively, he realized the Chinese spell captains of the Forbidden City must be involved. Who else? But even all their powers combined could not have wrought such profound annihilation.
         Sparks flew in his face and he waved them away. Fire-glowing smoke roiled over his head. The pop-pop sound of musket fire echoed up to him. He looked down to see a line of his Kazakh musketeer guard firing their weapons at the closest flaming giant. The giant's burning face turned towards them and Zolo saw the lips move.
         The thing is trying to talk!



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    War Pursues and is Pursued