Excerpt From Tales of the Wythenwood: The Artfulness of Stupidity
Prologue
The eagle sat watchfully, the wind ruffling its feathers as it swirled unimpeded atop of the spindle of rocks on which the eyrie sat. The foliage below swirled hither and thither in a great maelstrom of assorted detritus. Yet none came so high as to bother the winged guardian as he remained alert upon his perch looking down on the outstretched canopy of the seemingly endless Wythenwood below.
Hand over hand, foot over foot the troupe climbed upwards; silently. Their simian faces grimaced as the cold gusts of air bombarded them in a continuous effort to break their will. Never had they climbed so high, yet they knew not why they climbed and knew not what they sought. All that was known were the tempting whispers of a prize beyond prizes, the reward of all rewards that could be found uttered in the darkest nooks and deepest crannies of the Wythenwood, where all utterances came under hushed breath.
The eagle was as eagle-eyed as eagles are and had long since espied the intruders, yet he waited until the baboons had climbed high enough to ensure that any fall would return them to the soil once more, to nourish the roots of the endless number of trees that was the Wythenwood. He must send a message to those who would consider trespassing on the hallowed stones of Eramana’s needle he thought. The message needed be to clear— and final.
Higher and higher they climbed up the thrusting edifice; wrought by rain, winds and eons passed. The eagle looked down over its beak and upon its sacred charge, a ward that it had been born to guard and would also die to do just so. It bore the mottled patterning common to all eggs of eagle kind, yet this egg was swollen to an enormous size, large enough for an eagle fully grown at birth to erupt from its dappled shell. Though the shell itself was interspersed with a multitude of tiny holes and through every hole; like the most intricate and ornate of weavings grew the most impossible of vines. Leaves of red, leaves of gold and green, nestled amongst them was every shade between. Leaves of oak, leaves of acacia, pine and yew holding every color from spring to fall. It was not one tree; it was them all.
Although it seemed that the vine belonged perhaps to every tree that ever was, in some ways it belonged to none at all. For no roots did it bare to earth, instead it just lay wreathen around the great egg from which it protruded with the long tentacular strands of the chimaera vine smothering all the other eggs nesting within the eyrie in a nurturing, motherly embrace.
The eagle dipped its beak so that it all but touched the leaves of the wreathen egg and whispered so gently that even the air itself, through which the eagle’s words did pass could have barely heard.
Hand over hand, foot over foot still the baboons climbed on, eyes wild with the greed of anticipation, up and up they rose. And then it happened…
Yellow beaks and wings as black as the reaper’s cowl descended from the mists above. Gray tendrils of cloud ran amok as flailing arms grasped for them in panicked desperation, only for their brief hope of salvation to disappear into corporeal nothingness upon little more than the promise of a touch. Wrenched from the rocks by ferocity and talon the baboons one-by-one began to fall. A final glint of life dancing in their eyes with maddened fright as they plummeted to the swiftly encroaching ground.
The intruders lay motionless with eyes now glazed by death. The soil shall have them once more thought Reinhardt.
The Book Junkie Reads . . . Interview with . . . J.W. Hawkins . . .
How would you describe your style of writing to someone that has never read your work?
It’s quite florid. I’ve always enjoyed the style of writing you find in many early fantasy works and classics. In my latest book, Tales of the Wythenwood, I try to invoke the feel of Aesop’s Fables or the Brothers Grimm, yet with distinctly adult themes aimed at older audiences.
Do you take your character prep to heart? Do you nurture the growth of each character all the way through to the page?
Yes, I try to have a set arc for each character that maps out how their journey interacts with and influences the journeys of other characters. However, sometimes things just occur to me spontaneously, and I will always try to maintain a degree of flexibility. Occasionally, I will realize that a character’s original trajectory doesn’t quite work for one reason or another.
Have you found yourself bonding with any particular character(s)? If so, which one(s)?
In The Artfulness of Stupidity, a novella featured in Tales of the Wythenwood, I’ve become very attached to Indoli (In-doh-lie). A breathtakingly intelligent, unimaginably arrogant creature who spends his life manipulating others for what he perceives to be their own good. His intentions are pure, though his methods are outright Machiavellian; eventually, his hubris drags both himself and every denizen of the Wythenwood into a desperate fight for survival.
I put a lot of myself into Indoli, especially his more than abundant flaws, and despite these flaws, I feel rather sympathetic to his misguided motivations.
Can you share your next creative project(s)? If yes, can you give a few details?
Certainly! After Tales of the Wythenwood, I intend to follow up with a full-length novel set in the same world. It will have more human characters and will explore the friction between people and the magical world of the Wythenwood. It has the working title War of the Wythenwood.
Another, so far unnamed, project I have up my sleeve will explore the concept of a world where magic is normalized but restricted to a privileged few. Then, one day, magic simply stops—and society implodes, with factions and revolutionaries emerging from the political maelstrom that ensues.
Have you ever felt that there was something inside of you that you couldn't control? If so, what? If no, what spurs you to reach for the unexperienced?
Well, as I was once a teenage boy, the answer is inevitably yes. But, pubescent hormones aside, I’ve always had an urge to explore the unknown and experience new things. In younger years, this brought me to travel extensively, spending time in the Middle East before living and working for years in East Asia. I always wanted to see the world from other viewpoints and perspectives, to tear up the concept of what I, when growing up, had perceived as normal.
If you could have a dinner party with 7 fictional characters, who would they be?
Sydney Carton from A Tale of Two Cities is my favorite literary character. However, he’s a depressed alcoholic, so probably not great for a dinner party. Jorg of Ancrath from Mark Lawrence’s Broken Empire trilogy would be fantastic entertainment, provided he doesn’t try to murder everyone. Just in case Jorg gets out of control, we’ll need someone who can think on their feet and miraculously get us out of a sticky situation, so Moist von Lipwig from Terry Pratchett’s Discworld series is next on the list.
Hobbits are always fun at parties, though I think it’d have to be Bilbo over Frodo, as he’s a little less somber than his nephew.
Locke Lamora from Scott Lynch’s Gentlemen Bastards series would be great fun, provided he doesn’t rob me blind. I think I’ll ask Jorg to keep an eye on him just in case.
My namesake, Jim Hawkins of Treasure Island, is next on the list. It was great growing up knowing that I shared a name with such a legendary literary character. It always helped me imagine Jim as myself when Dad read it to me as a small child.
Sherlock Holmes would need to be there in case something did go awry; and given the guest list, that’s more than probable. I’d also invite the closest thing Sherlock ever had to a love interest, Irene Adler, just to watch the sparks fly.
My final guest would be Arya Stark from Game of Thrones. I’d hire her as a ‘Faceless Man’ in case one of the others tried to mess with me.
If you could spend one week with 5 fictional characters, who would they be, and where would you spend that time?
If you could go ANYWHERE, money is not a concern, and spend one full year, where would you go and what would you do with this time?
Well, I’m going to stretch the "anywhere" part of this question to its full extent. I’d say I’d love to go the Jules Verne route and journey to the center of the earth. I’d spend the year studying the bizarre subterranean world and exploring its furthest depths. Though, as this is my fantasy, and I can do with it what I want, I may have to chuck some Morlocks and Triffids in there to discover as part of my investigations.
J.W. Hawkins, Author of Tales of the Wythenwood
Tales of the Wythenwood is available from Amazon US, Amazon UK, Amazon Canada, Amazon Australia and other international Amazon sites from 31 August for just $3.97 USD.Email Sign Up: https://bit.ly/4dTexqs
Website: www.jwhawkinsbooks.com
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