/lit/ - Literature

It’s not the first time alchemist-inventor Anton has been run out of town - it comes with the job when you peddle your potions as magic. So when Anton accidentally overdoses the Bishop of Alguazas in 1550, everyone thinks it’s his witchcraft to blame. Now it’s the Spanish Inquisition that wants his blood, and Anton will do whatever he can to save himself from being burned at the stake – even if it means fleeing to the “Wild West of the Old World,” the Barbary Coast. In the pirate capital of Algiers, he finds refuge with a faction of the city’s underworld, the Kabyles.

Hot on Anton’s heels is Mateo, a simpleminded, idealistic witch-hunter tasked by the Spanish Inquisition to bring the outlaw “wizard” to trial. A rooftop chase lands them both in the clutches of Bloodbeard, King of Corsairs and nemesis of the Kabyles. This sparks a citywide gang war between corsairs and Kabyles in which Anton and Mateo must settle their differences to survive.

THE MONSTER OF MURCIA is an adventure novel complete at 60,000 words with the atmosphere of “Pirates of the Caribbean” and magical realism inspired by Arabian Nights.

Buuut agents only want Neverwhere knockoffs and feminist fiction so it'll probably never sell

>>9858858
“As he should,” responded Mateo . “Now if you don’t mind-“
“Might I have some of that?” He pointed at the canteen hooked to Mateo’s belt.
Mateo wrapped his fingers around it. “Now we’re all manners, ey? I thought you were done with questions.”
“This is more a request than a question.”
“Again with the word games. Can’t you just get some of your own off port?”
The sailor shook his head mopingly. “Won’t have the time, I’m afraid. We’re heading out as soon as the wind permits. No sense lingering in this corsair hive any longer than we must.”
Mateo harrumphed. Pirates were the least of his concerns. If nothing else, he celebrated the notion of facing those dangers feared by lesser men.
“That was a vague answer,” pressed the sailor.
Not without some hesitation, Mateo unhooked his canteen and handed it over.
The sailor halted mid-sip to remark , “Gads, man! This thing is nearly empty! I thought you filled it just this morning.”
“That I did,” growled Mateo. He then pried the canteen from the sailor’s fingers and added, “Perhaps I should provision it better.” So saying, he disembarked from the barge and set foot into world separate from his own. A world of adventure, he fancied. A proving grounds.
First he needed to find a place to stay. This seemed simple from the start since the captain was kind enough to recommend such a place . However, Mateo soon discovered that navigating the twisty streets was no easy feat . Twice he found himself at the same whitewashed intersection until he used it as a landmark. One sunburnt scalp later, he happened upon his destination .
The building in question hardly stood out from its neighbors. Mateo would have missed it had it not been for the signboard hung above its entryway. Though he could not make heads or tails of the letters, he did recognize the picture above them . The chipped paint showed a monstrous bird of prey swooping on a tower. Mateo knew the bird to be a Roc of Arabian legend. Any Cazador worth his chain could say as much. The Spanish Inquisition expected nothing less from its witch hunters.
(2/2)