Today’s News from: Rip – Find the Magic Key

— Yesterday’s was the last daily update from Rip – Find the Magic Key. —

I won’t be posting more daily updates from the world of Rip here because it’s too time-
consuming. But I will continue to do so on Twitter and Instagram so if you want to keep
up, go to:

Twitter: @Lazlo_F

Instagram: @lazloferran

Rip-Find the Magic Key: 2nd longest Western novel at 1 M+ words. Subscribe | Buy Vol 1 | Understand more


Today’s News in: Rip – Find the Magic Key

violet swatch— The handsome man wakes and starts a conversation with Sabrina. —

“Anyway, how did you get here? I guess you came from London.”
Ome stare at the floor while Sabrina replied:
“Barge. I came out of London on the Grand Union Canal. It seemed like a good idea, but I could only get to just after Aylesbury. In my naivety, I thought it went all the way to somewhere like Bristol.”
“And you had no map?”
“Clever girl. So were there many barges moving on the canal?”
“Don’t call me girl. Do I look like I am still a girl?”
“Sorry. Just a figure of speech, a bad habit.”
“I saw none. Most had been looted and sunk. In places, it was difficult to get through. In fact, I had to change barges once or twice.”
Ome nodded and asked:
“Are you going to the shrine?”
“No. I just wanted somewhere safe. I thought I would find in an isolated farmhouse. But wherever you find one, you find an army willing to defend it.”
“Well, I am leaving today. I just want to clean up and then I’m off. You want to come with me? Back to London?”
“No. It’s too dangerous. Sorry.”
“It’s alright. I have to go.”
“Your English is perfect! For an Irishman.”
“Did I say I was born in Ireland now?” Ome replied.

Rip-Find the Magic Key: 2nd longest Western novel at 1 M+ words. Subscribe | Buy Vol 1 | Understand more

Best-selling occult thriller: The Devil’s Own Dice

An ex-spy wakes up in an inescapable 13th Century dungeon; no light, no food or water and no way out!

The Devil’s Own Dice is book 3 in the Ordo Lupus and the Blood Moon Prophecy series. Find out more.

Rip: Grail of the Secret Sun

Rip: Grail of the Secret Sun

Only the Vampire Priests understand the Blood Moon Prophecy: “A drop of His blood fills the cup and brings the Blood Moon Dawn.”

Water makes people forget.
For seven ages They have walked the Earth, seeking a cave of Vampire Priests. For only the Priests know the meaning of the riddle, believed to hold clues to an extremely ancient device that can restore purity to water.
The seventh age will be Their last chance.

Watch the YouTube video trailer below!

“Lots of cool action and drew me well in.” – AHF Magazine.

Let me download free chapters and subscribe:

Let me buy Rip Volume 1 on Amazon for 99 cents now!

Water makes people forget.
For seven ages They have walked the Earth, seeking a cave of Vampire Priests. For only the Priests know the meaning of the riddle, believed to hold clues to an extremely ancient device that can restore purity to water.
The seventh age will be Their last chance.

Excerpt from Rip Orange
After perhaps an hour, during which time Tom began to believe his carriers had unlimited strength, the leader stuck his hand in the air and the column stopped. The snow seemed to ease and then stop altogether. While the strange leader laid out thick, flatbreads and salted rinds of meat on plates, the clouds cleared, and the sun began to warm Tom’s cheeks.
“Not so bad after all!” he joked.
His rescuers crowded around Tom while their leader, the only one wearing a white fur coat, raised a water-bottle to his patient’s lips.
“Good to drink?” Tom asked, feeling nervous.
The leader nodded. Tom tried a sip and found it to be water, clear and refreshing. He waited for any side-effects but only felt better. After eating some bread and meat, he felt better still and grinned. The leader raised Tom up by his shoulders and showed him the terrain ahead. The mountain path dipped down to a dry valley and then rose to a line of green hills. These lacked the icy caps of those Tom could see either side of the mountain they were on, but beyond these, far beyond and just poking through a haze of cloud, he could make out a single peak, rising much higher than any other hill or mountain. Upon its tip he could see no snow but only two jagged peaks, one white and one black.
“Where are we?” Tom asked.
The leader of his rescuers pointed to himself. He said, “Inyan! Inyan!” and pointed to Tom, who replied:
“Tom. Tom Merriweather.”
Inyan shook his head and pointed to tom. “Omacron! Omacron!”
“Omacron!” Inyan’s men echoed.
“No! Tom!” Tom repeated, but Inyan only laughed and moved to Lucky. He repeated his introduction.
“Alan!” Lucky replied. “But everyone calls me Lucky.”
“Alan Lucky!” Inyan replied, laughing. “Tallana!”
“Where are we?” Tom asked.
Inyan shook his head and furrowed his brow. Tom swept his arm around to encompass the whole landscape before them.
“Ah!” Inyan replied. “Atalan’Tea Llantu.”
“Okay. Nice.” Tom asked, “And that?” pointing to the high peak in the far distance.
“Tpatam t’akalliyan,” Inyan replied.
Inyan’s words sounded strange to Tom, guttural, with lots of glottal stops and sudden sounds that surprised him. But he found Inyan’s face reassuring. The stranger had a long face and doleful eyes that seemed sad in some way. His cheeks converged with his mouth in jowls that would make him look more and more like a bulldog as he grew older. But when Inyan smiled, he did so with his whole face, the creases in his cheeks disappearing as if a sun radiated from within. It was a simple, innocent smile that Tom had never seen in anybody, except children, during the war. And in Inyan’s eyes, as well as the apparent sadness, there lay a stillness that seemed like lake that had lain undisturbed for centuries. These features made Tom smile, so that he decided that he liked Inyan. Without thinking Tom reached out and took Inyan’s hand. At first the strange man from this strange land seemed unsure of Tom’s touch, but seeming to come to a decision, he clasped Tom’s fingers within his own and shook Tom’s hand heartily.
“Peroturnakar!” Inyan said, pointing to the sky.
“I’ve heard that word before!” Tom replied, not understanding the significance of the sky.
“Peroturnakar!” Inyan said, looking sad.
Tom looked up again and thought he saw something strange through the clouds. It seemed to him that high up there, above the clouds, the sky consisted of rock, faint but hanging impossibly over them and mountainous landscape.

Excerpt from Rip Blue
My brother had a ball. When you tried to kick it, it moved away from you. I grew tired trying to hit the thing.
“Don’t think about kicking it,” he told me. “The ball is designed to read your intentions. Think about nothing.”
It felt very satisfying when I finally got a foot on it and sent it into the back of the net.
A ‘beeping’ interrupted his memories.
So I have been asleep?
He tried to open one eye, but it felt gummed up. Screwing his face up to make tears, he eventually managed to open one, only to see a panel, which proved to be the source of the ‘beeps.’ A sign flashed, ‘Hello Omah,’ in in red letters. You’re in waking up phase. I’m administering stimulants. Please drink the water.’
“Oh great! Thanks! I hate cryo-sleep!”
A distant hum occurred at the same time as his cryo-chamber began to incline. The glass-lidded container, little more than a box, began to raise at his head’s end and continued inclining until he lay at a forty-five-degree angle. The lid opened and straps released his arms and legs. He felt sharp stabs of pain as a needle retracted from each arm, but didn’t have the energy to say:
Omah remembered the water and tried to reach for a cup in a tray section of the chamber’s rim. But his arm wouldn’t move. And then he noticed how black the water in the cup looked, blacker than ink. It seemed warm and inviting and seemed to expand as he looked at it. He felt he could jump right into it, Deep within the liquid, far, far away, there seemed to be a faint light.
It came as a relief to see an attractive, blue woman approaching him in a white jumpsuit. But when she smiled he saw that her eye sockets looked completely empty, not empty as in the eyes are covered over, but as in a black depth, like a liquid, filled her sockets, a depth so fathomless that Omah lost his balance trying to find their bottom. He slid out of the chamber, teetered for a moment on numb feet and began to fall forward, onto a glass cabinet of surgical instruments. A moment stretched out for what seemed minutes, allowing Omah to think:
“What a strange place to die!”
Omah had no control of his feet, so it came as a complete surprise when the trolley, upon which the cabinet sat, rolled out of the way just before his face hit the pane of glass. The trolley crashed into a wall shattering the cabinet and sending glass shards skittering across the floor while Omah fell in a painful heap on the floor.
“Oh shit!” the blue woman cried, hastily turning Omah over. “Are you alright?”
“Yes, I think so!” Omah gasped. “I … don’t know how that happened!”
“I know how you fell – toxins in your muscles making them unusable. I don’t know how the hell you kicked that thing out of the way!”
“I didn’t!”
“Well, it didn’t move on its own! Your foot must have kicked it. Freakiest thing I ever saw! I better let the others know what happened. Let me get you into a chair!”

Excerpt from Rip Red
Omah’s head-up display on the visor of his helmet indicated to him the likelihood of criminal activity with a coloured halo around each citizen; blue for law-abiding, white for untouchables, red for Scum. He had always had a visceral tendency for violence:
His mother thought he had a look like a, “Whipped dog.”
His father told him to, “Keep his collar clean.”
The funny thing was that he had never seen a dog.
He took another look at the row of columns under the Hall on the far side of the street and suddenly couldn’t remember what he had just been thinking. Not only that, but he had the feeling something had changed irrevocably.
A puddle near his feet dragged his attention away from the display in his visor. The more he looked, the more he felt as if he were being sucked into the black water. It seemed endlessly deep, but a dim light, like a lantern lost at the bottom of the sea, seemed to beckon him down. Without thinking Omah stretched his gloved hand toward the puddle, but a boot stepped in the puddle, sending ripples out across its surface. It was only water. Omah looked up, feeling angry, and stared into the empty eye sockets of a man. Where his eyes should have been, only endless, dark emptiness could be seen. There was no light at the back of the eyes at all. It’s repulsiveness shocked Omah, making him jump back.
“Look out!” the man screamed.
A car’s horn blared, somewhere close behind Omah. He heard the screech of brakes as he leaped for the sidewalk. An instant later, the fender of a black car entered the space where his body had been. The car accelerated away before Omah could get its license plates.
“Thanks!” Omah said, scrambling to his feet and stretching out his hand to the stranger.
“No problem! You nearly got hit! I just wanted to ask the way to the Mayor’s Office?”
“Oh.” Omah couldn’t think for a moment, because the man’s eyes now looked completely normal. “Back that way, second left. It’s on your right, about two blocks down. You can’t miss it.”
“Thanks! Take care.”
Shalto Denner leaned as casually as he could against the side of the brick column buttressing the City Measurers Hall under the colonnade. Shaded from the main street he lit the rollup he had stuck above his ear. He had thought about giving up many times, but it marked you out as Void scum; an emblem that could save your life in tight situations. This was one.
He recalled that his good looks had often caught him out, so he slipped on a pair of dark shades. He still looked handsome; silver hair above a craggy face, cross-hatched by age lines and azure eyes. A girlfriend, more generous than most, had described his face as like a crystalline rock face, carved into the likeness of a man.
‘Can’t keep it up long enough to satisfy a woman anymore,’ he mused.
His thoughts were interrupted by a sparkle of light in the crowd. Looking more closely he saw the distinctive black helmet of a Municipal Policeman’s helmet and slipped round the corner to hide down Subaltern Street.
Omah could see a sea of blue, flecked with white in his display, no red. This made him suspicious. From the corner of his eye he thought he saw a single flick of red vanish round the corner of the old Measurers Hall.
“Ah ha! Got you!” he muttered. The midday heat made sweat seep into his collar. He slowly shook his head once to sooth an itch. He decided to pass Subaltern Street and double back, round the block.
“Something’s going on, Sector 4, corner of Subaltern Street and Main. Falcon 2 requesting back up.”
“Roger 2. Falcon 3 right behind you, half a block, on the right.”
“Crossing to right now. Stop on the intersection and wait. I’m gonna circle round and flush him out. Suspect he’s the lookout for something. These buggers always have complex crimes in mind these days.”

Let me download free chapters and subscribe:

Let me buy Rip on Amazon now!

Want to hear Lazlo Ferran Interviewed Today?

Ordo Lupus and the Temple Gate

Ordo Lupus and the Temple Gate

Here’s the my interview, during which I discuss my writing and the Ordo Lupus series in particular.


It should just start playing.

Please let me know what you think and share it around. Hop on over there. It’s only up today!

If the link above doesn’t work, go here:

Click on the underlined text next to my name in the short list (5-6) of inrterviews underneath the subtitle Broadcast Schedule.

Then on the subsequent page you will need to click on the correct interview in the grey box near the top (under the list of featured authors), which has forward and back and play buttons, much like a cassette tape deck.

In a world where reality is in doubt, is doubt the only reality?

My new book, Lotus, will go on sale on 28 November but is already available for preview on Smashwords and Amazon

Lotus eBook cover

Lotus eBook cover

Here is the refined blurb:

In a world where reality is in doubt, only doubt is real

Robert Lath dies in the trenches of World War One. But he wakes to find himself on a never-ending flight of stone steps. No matter how hard he tries, he cannot reach the top or bottom. Then a face appears and offers him a choice; a choice that might damn his soul.

Six characters from different spans of history battle against illness, seemingly the result of a game with Satan, and human frailty to find salvation but are they all the same man?

A soul is trapped and gradually dissected in this intriguing and labyrinthine story of trust, betrayal, disease, death and immortality.

Other News
It’s a short post this week because I am so busy with the last stages of publishing Lotus. if you are a Newsletter subscriber, there is good news: expect another issue in the next few weeks! I am also excited to announce that I am editing Iron III: Worlds Like Dust for the final time prior to release. If you want your thriller edited by an experience thriller writer and editor, contact me or take a look at my editor rates here.

If you’ve missed it, don’t forget to listen to a preview of Too Bright the Sun with a soundtrack on