by Ben Zackheim | Jul 10, 2014 | The Camelot Kids, Writing |
If you think you know Merlin, it may be time to meet The Camelot Kids’ Merlin.
He’s a hair over 7-feet-tall.
His torso pushes 4-feet-wide.
He’s 3276 years old.
He’s not a people person.
Merlin’s love of England is the force behind his immortality. He won’t rest until the prophecy of King Arthur‘s return comes to pass. Now, as he senses danger surrounding his beloved New Camelot, Merlin gathers the descendants of the Knights of the Round Table. But since when was an army of teenagers a good idea? Merlin has defeated dark wizards, angry elves and dragons 145X his size. But can he handle The Camelot kids?
In this excerpt, Simon is on his butt, with his head between his knees. He’s been training with the notorious knight Hexter all morning and he feels like hurling. But when he raises his eyes he finds that the training arena is empty. A moment ago, it was teeming with teenagers, onlookers and about two dozen talky chickens.
Now, nothing…
Excerpt from The Camelot Kids
Simon stood quickly and lifted his training sword in front of him. He turned in circles for a moment, watching out for any movement. He had a sense that things weren’t right. Something dangerous was nearby.
“Who’s there?” He felt silly for talking to no one. It was probably teatime or something, and he’d passed out and missed everyone leaving. He imagined that they’d stepped over his unconscious body, laughing.
Merlin’s humongous shape emerged from the castle’s shadows. His stick click-clacked on the cobblestones.
“Put that thing down before you hurt yourself,” the wizard said.
Simon lowered his sword, but his instincts told him not to. Ever since the sword fight, when his muscles had done things they’d never done before, Simon felt heavy, wary. He saw the world as one big adversary.
“Where did everyone go?”
“Oh, I sent them home. It’s a clever little trick I picked up in India.” Merlin’s eyes lit up. Simon could almost hear the smile in the old man’s words. “You did well today.”
“Yeah. I was real chivalrous.”
“What’s wrong with you?” In an instant, Merlin had turned combative again.
“Nothing… My dad once said that praise from Merlin had a price.”
Merlin chuckled. Simon’s gut relaxed a little. The wizard put his hand on Simon’s shoulder and led him out of the courtyard.
“I do have a reputation for getting my way. But let me give you some context, Simon. I’m several thousand years old. That requires a strong body and a strong mind. It would be very easy to go mad after all I’ve seen.”
They stepped into the castle and Merlin grabbed a torch from the wall. “Actually, I have gone mad a couple of times.” His voice softened. “But one thing always pulls me out of the darkness. One thing keeps me focused and strong. Did your father tell you what that is?”
Merlin stopped abruptly and looked at the wall, up and down.
“Do you have a chainsaw?” he asked Simon.
“Um, not on me.”
“Bother.” The wizard furrowed his brow. He raised his staff, held it sideways and shook it. Suddenly, Merlin was trying to stay on his feet as the weight of his walking stick threw him off balance. Except it wasn’t a staff in his hand anymore. It was a chainsaw.
Without a word, the old man lifted the huge thing, yanked on the cord and revved it up. The explosive sound of the tool forced Simon to cover his ears. Merlin shoved the saw into the stone wall.
Except it wasn’t stone.
It looked like stone, but the surface splintered like wood, white chips flying everywhere. Merlin laughed, maniacally, as he carved out a door shape. The whole scene made Simon want to run to his bed and hide under the covers.
Merlin stepped back, turned off the chainsaw and handed it to Simon, who immediately dropped it because of its weight. The wizard stood still in the uncomfortable silence, looking at the large rectangle cut he’d made. His hair was a wispy mess, long strands of it falling over his face and sticking straight up.
“Merl-”
“Sh!”
Then the rectangle fell down into the hall with a thud.
“The door has moved since I last used it,” he said, as if that would explain everything. Merlin slipped into the hole he’d made in the wall and gestured for Simon to hand him his saw back.
Except it was a staff again.
“Thank you,” Merlin said in a way that made it very clear that he was enjoying Simon’s exasperation.
They took a step into a narrow spiral stairwell that curved down into darkness.
“As I was saying. The one thing that keeps me focused and strong is Camelot. My home. It has deserved better for more than a thousand years and now, in the midst of great danger, its time has come.”
“What danger?” Simon asked. But Merlin didn’t answer. “Where are you taking me?”
“To the dungeons. Should be fun.”
That didn’t calm his nerves any. “What’s down there?”
“Someone who is the key to finding our enemy’s weakness.”
“He’s a weird one, though,” came a girl’s voice from behind Simon, startling him. It was Maille.
“Don’t do that!” Simon barked.
“What? What’d I do?” Maille shrugged her shoulders.
“You snuck up on me!”
“I’ve been here the whole time, excuse me very much.” But her cocky smirk gave her away.
“Enough bickering!” Merlin barked. “We don’t want the prisoner to hear. It would give him an edge we can’t afford.” When they hit the bottom of the stairwell, Merlin lit a wall of torches with one wave of his walking stick. They passed empty cells that Simon would not have wished on an enemy, of which he had a number, growing by the hour.
At the end of the long, stone hall was a cell with a small flame’s light flickering through its bars.
The prisoner was hard to see, just a slight figure in the corner, whimpering like a caged animal.
Simon recognized him immediately.
~~~
And check out these previous character introductions:
Simon Sharp
Maille Rose
Caradoc the troll
by Ben Zackheim | Jul 3, 2014 | The Camelot Kids, Writing |
Maille Rose’s wand is a baseball bat. That probably gives you a pretty good idea of what kind of person she is. She’s quick to jump into a scrap, especially if someone she likes is in danger. But she’s also known for being the only reasonable person in the room — at least that’s what Maille Rose would tell you ;-)
Maille’s past is a mystery for now, but I can tell you that a lot of what makes her so powerful has to do with that crack in her bat. You’ll get a close look at it soon. It’s a violent gash, from a violent time.
Maille Rose and Simon have an awkward introduction to each other. Here’s an excerpt from Chapter 6 of The Camelot Kids!
The flight to Glasgow was dull, until someone showed up on the wing.
They’d been in the air for several hours. Simon couldn’t sleep, so he stared out into the night sky. The moon’s glow blanketed the huge jet engine outside row seventeen’s window. In the distance, dim lights flickered into view in the black sheet of night. He guessed it was Glasgow.
The cabin lights popped on when Simon saw movement near the wing’s tip. He squinted and pressed his nose against the window to get a better view.
Was that a person out there?
He glanced around. The passengers were either asleep or getting ready for landing.
A bolt of lightning killed the moonlight. In that moment Simon saw, clear as day, a figure perched on the wing in a long, wind-whipped robe, arms stretched in the air.
The plane shook violently. Shrieks filled the cabin. They fell a few hundred feet in an instant. The pilot pulled out of the dive but the climb was about as scary, especially when another lightning bolt shot past them.
After a moment, the pilot’s voice reassured them, “Sorry for that one, folks. Looks like we dodged a bullet or two there. I’ll have you on the ground before you know it.”
By the time they landed, there was nervous laughter, but everyone was ready to run for the exit.
Simon waited for the plane to empty out before he grabbed his bag. He followed the flight staff and searched for someone who might be his ride. Most people were hugging their families or trying to find the baggage claim.
There was only one person standing in the middle of the crowd as if she were waiting for someone. She was a pretty girl, early teens, with red hair and a black cape fastened at the neck with a shiny silver clasp.
She stared right at him.
As people crossed his view, Simon realized she was coming closer. Before he could blink she was standing right in front of him, with a very serious look on her face. The expression conflicted with her hair, which looked as if… as if she’d stuck her finger in a light socket. And were those bugs squashed to her forehead?
“Simon?” He nodded his head. “I’m Maille Rose. I’m here to take you to your uncle’s.”
“Hello,” he said as politely as he could.
Maille’s eyes darted about nervously. Her hair whipped around like branches on a tree, swaying with every movement of her head.
“Is something wrong?” he asked, as he noticed a bug crawling toward her ear. “Oh, um, hey, I think you have some bugs on…”
“No. Of course not. Nothing’s wrong.” She grabbed his hand and led him away. “Do you have much luggage?”
“None. I don’t own much.”
“Oh, too bad. That you don’t own much, that is.” Her grip on his wrist was strong. Too strong. She broke into a jog.
“Uh, why are we running?” he asked. But Maille didn’t answer. She peeked over her shoulder.
“Okay. What’s going on here? Who are you?” Simon stopped short. Maille moved close to him and leaned into his ear to whisper.
“Listen to me, Simon. You’re in danger. We need to get you out of here.”
“Who’s we? What do you mean danger?”
But Maille, if that was her name, saw something that made her eyes go wide.
“Oh, look at that,” she said with a smile, then ducked below the elbows of a gaggle of chattering businessmen and disappeared. Simon couldn’t spot her anywhere. He was going to call out her name when he felt a large hand settle on his shoulder.
“Mr. Sharp?” Simon turned and saw the biggest man he’d ever laid his eyes on. The guy looked like a boxer, with shoulders as wide as a door. He was dressed in old-fashioned chauffeur garb, hat and all. It fit so badly that it was more like a costume than a uniform. Simon made a gesture with his hand that was a cross between a wave hello and erasing a chalk-board. The man smiled and took his carry-on.
“I’m Hector,” he said with a distinct Scottish accent. “I’ll be taking you to yer uncle’s.”
“Then who was…” He stopped himself.
“Sorry?”
“Nothing. Thanks.” Simon stayed a few paces back as Hector carved a path through the crowd. The driver’s stride was long enough to take four steps at a time up a flight of stairs. Simon stole a few glances around on the off chance he’d spot Maille, but no luck. Maybe he’d dreamed her up. Like he’d dreamed that someone was standing on the wing of a plane going 400 miles per hour.
Jet lag. Yeah. Jet lag.
by Ben Zackheim | Jul 1, 2014 | The Camelot Kids, Writing |
We’ll be taking a peek at the characters of The Camelot Kids over the next several weeks. Ian Greenlee is doing a spectacular job of yanking the Fantasy series cast out of their comfortable nests in my head.
Today’s peek is at the main character, Simon.
If you ask Simon Sharp how his parents died, the 14-year-old New Yorker will tell you King Arthur killed them. Obsessed with Camelot, the two scholars perished in a plane crash en route to an archaeological dig in England.
Simon spends two awful years in an orphanage before his uncle surfaces. He offers Simon residence at a creepy mansion in Scotland where every shadow hides a surprise— including a girl, Maille Rose, who flickers in and out of view like a ghost. Maille warns Simon he’s in danger and, oh yes, he’s a descendant of King Arthur’s powerful knight, Lancelot.
Uh. What?
That’s Simon’s response too.
But she’s right about the danger. Simon’s life becomes a battle for survival when his teacher is killed in front of him. Accused of murder, Simon escapes into the wilderness…
… where he gets kidnapped by a drunk troll. At this point, Simon’s tired of surprises. Which is too bad because then he’s saved by a 7-foot elderly man claiming to be Merlin. Maille Rose, Merlin’s apprentice, arrives swinging her bat-wand and leads them to a hidden castle. This, she says, is New Camelot.
Packed with surprises, The Camelot Kids is a fresh take on the beloved myth.
Come back for more peeks later this week.
Who’s up next?
Maille Rose! Check out Merlin’s first apprentice in 978 years. She’s tough, smart and has attitude coming out of her wand (which happens to be a baseball bat)…
by Ben Zackheim | Jul 1, 2014 | Writing |
I am so pleased to announce the team behind my new Fantasy book series, The Camelot Kids. The ebook series will arrive on Amazon this August!
When I started writing the story years ago I’d hoped to gather an Ace team of illustrators to flesh out my world.
Looks like my wish came true.
The Camelot Kids team
Nathan Fox is our Art Director and cover artist for the series. You’ve probably seen Nathan’s work in Rolling Stone, Wired, The New Yorker or a multitude of Marvel/DC/Image/Dark Horse comics. Let’s just say that having Nathan Fox on your team is like having a Hulk.
Here are some recent illustrations.
So yeah. It’s good to have Nathan Fox on board The Camelot Kids…
And then…Ian Greenlee. Ian Greenlee is an up and comer if I’ve ever seen one. You have never seen work like his. Click on this link, and you’ll see what I mean:
Ian Greenlee
Ian’s work on The Camelot Kids is blowing everyone away. He’s doing the book’s interiors. I can’t wait to roll out the character studies and sketches he’s done so far. I’ll keep showing off peeks here and there, so keep on coming back.
I can’t take it anymore. Just go to his site. Amazing. And wait until you see what he’s doing with The Camelot Kids! I’ll be rolling out peeks at his work in the coming weeks.
Wrapping it all up into a package that will astonish is Raymond Buetens of Slub Design. Ray is an old friend who also happens to have an impeccable eye for book design.
When the softcover comes out, it will be packed with surprises around every chapter. This guy knows how to have fun with a book. Seriously.
On the marketing front is Jeff Rutherford. Jeff works on the deadly-sharp cutting-edge of online marketing. He’s come up with some ideas that are going to get The Camelot Kids in front of every eyeball looking for something, ANYTHING Camelot.
Off we go! The Camelot Kids series will be released in four ebooks from August to November. Then, in December you’ll be able to buy the full book as a softcover or ebook boxed set.
by Ben Zackheim | Jun 28, 2014 | The Camelot Kids, Writing |
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by Ben Zackheim | Jun 24, 2014 | Digital Identity, Writing |
When I talk about an artist’s Digital ID my focus is on the presentation and preservation of who we are and what we do in the digital realm. In my opinion, today’s creative people have a unique opportunity to define how we’ll be discovered, seen and remembered. The same way that victors write the history books, only the artists who make the right choices around their digital legacy will produce lasting work.
It’s a tough concept to get our heads around. Hell, I’m writing this series so that I can begin to understand it myself. But it’s an important discussion, because our conclusions will yield solid next steps for:
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Being online in a way that’s true to ourselves and our work
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Ensuring that our hard work will be enjoyed long after we’re gone
So perhaps this particular wrinkle in Google’s robe will shed light on what we’re talking about. Not because it’s some sexy new feature or product. But because of its spectacular presumptuousness.
Forget being remembered, how can you manage to be forgotten?
Europe’s highest court recently passed down a ruling that’s widely called The Right To Be Forgotten. In response, Google announced a new service that allows EU citizens to submit a form to be removed from Google’s European results. I don’t want to get into the details of the process, because the thing that fascinates me is the premise of submitting a form so you can get wiped from the memory of the largest catalog in human history — besides our DNA of course ;-)
Sure, some people may want to protect their privacy. Some want to erase sordid pasts. Some want to start over after identity theft. But what does it even mean to be forgotten in the 21st century? The EU law’s premise and Google’s compliance seem to imply that Google, through its search engine, email, etc. is in some real way trying to remember us. After all, the opposite of being forgotten is to be remembered.
But that’s a flawed premise.
Anyone who is indexed, tracked, covered, Tweeted, shared, Liked, Plussed or nonplussed is not going to be remembered. The data will disappear over time. The memory will dissipate in spectacularly unnatural ways. Server outages will erase books, bad code will decimate entire portfolios, db updates will wipe out metadata, a hack will corrupt billions of sole backups.
Google’s bankruptcy will strand it all, casting trillions of our creations into purgatory, like ghosts who just want to be remembered.
Fire, war, catastrophe, decay. The list of what will most definitely happen to our digital data goes on and on.
So, in the long run, (which is the only run I’m interested in here) the idea that Google is remembering us is like saying cramming for a test is learning. You retain a tiny percentage of what you study, but most, if not all, is lost to the wind.
Maybe the EU and Google and the media just threw a name at the ruling that sounded clever. The right to be forgotten certainly presses some buttons, doesn’t it? Maybe they don’t mean to jump into the murky pool of legacy, or history books or what defines a “permanent record.” But even if that’s the case, the very fact that language like this is used around the digital version of our lives implies that we truly believe that our servers and our electricity and our file formats are part of a strong record, or a collective memory.
They are not.
So “The Right to be Forgotten” throws into stark relief this premise of being online in a way that lasts. Creative people can find a way to get online that’s true to their work and to themselves. But let’s not forget that everything we do online is ethereal in the long-run. That’s not a bad thing. It just means we need to prepare.
In my next post on Digital ID, I want to start laying out a strategy for getting online like you want to get online! Enough philosophy, let’s get our hands dirty for a bit…
By Ben Zackheim
Read more about Digital ID:
What’s your Digital ID?
WordPress for authors and writers (part four)
WordPress for authors and writers (part three)
WordPress for authors and writers (part two)
WordPress for authors and writers (part one)
