Read Ebook {PDF EPUB} Fate's Needle by Jerry Autieri Jerry Autieri. I’ve been quite busy recently, using all my free time to work on my writing rather than dredging up interesting blog topics. The ever-so-witty post title really explains what I’ve been doing, at least in part. For starters I completed the first draft of my follow-up to Fate’s Needle . The working title is Islands in the Fog . I’ve let it “cool off” for about a month, and am now just going back in to tighten up the story and prose. I’ll be sending it to a beta reader for feedback after that’s done. The plan right now is to have the book out in Jan/Feb 2013. So what did I do during that cooling off period? So glad you asked! I plotted two more novels, both high fantasy stories. When I say plot, I don’t just mean something like: “The Dork-Lords of Grond have stolen the Magic Dixie Cup of Clarity and only the Fair Prince can retrieve it. So he does some questing and stuff to get it back and make a girlfriend. The End.” Nope, I go all out. I’ve got two books planned plot-point by plot- point, scene by scene. I just need to sit down and write the darn things! But my Ulfrik stories take a front seat. I’ve already got third book for Ulfrik on training wheels right now. In addition to the above, I wrote a short story as well. It’s a horror story, which I will probably publish under a pen name. No sense confusing my audience. I’ll need a good name. How about Dirk LeRouge. Too “Twilight?” How about Stan McSmashfist? That’s probably for action stories. I’ll think of something. All frivolity aside, I also ensured that Fate’s Needle is now available in paperback! Through the magic of CreateSpace, I am able to have this as a print-on-demand book. The process was a little tricky, but I did it. I was quite pleased with the results. The proof copy looks awesome. If you don’t like reading books on e-readers, phones, or computers you can enjoy my story as a traditional book. Now that I know how easy it is provide paperback options I’ll be offering all my future works in both electronic and paper formats. Wrangling Through Smashwords Formatting. Well, I’m learning about eBook formatting by leaps and bounds this week. I’m am happy to announce to my reader(s) that the tour de force that is Fate’s Needle is now available on Smashwords. The whole process was fairly painless, much like banging your funny bone. That’s not really the normal pain you feel when you slam an appendage into a hard surface. It’s numbing and paralyzing, unpleasant and long-lasting. But it’s not painful, like being stabbed. You do have to follow the Smashwords style guide. As you scroll through the endless white spaces of that PDF, you begin to suspect what your final product is going to look like. But overall, now that it’s all over, I think my final product looks good in the formats that I’ve reviewed. I’ve learned that so much time can be saved in the process if I had just written my manuscripts in the format they want. You are basically advised to use formatting styles to manage your document. If you do that, most of what you have to do for Smashwords prep work will be minimal. Also, do yourself a favor and don’t do minimalist chapter headings like “Fourteen” or whatnot. Stick the word “chapter” on each heading and you will be a happier person. Once you’ve got the document set up like the style guide wants, the actual uploading was fast. It converted to all major eBook formats and gave me the results of its “auto vetter” for inclusion in premium services. Premium services, despite the name, are free and basically allows you to sell via all major online book sellers besides Amazon. Pretty slick! I got one error,which was a vestigial paragraph tab that I had not deleted. It was just one that knocked me out. However, this did not mean I wasn’t published. I was. I was just not ready for premium services. Once I fixed that little error I reloaded via my dashboard, repeated the same process, and was good to go. I had to assign an ISBN, which Smashwords gives you for free and is only needed for premium services. The whole process took me three hours to complete. That’s because I had so much to fix. Now that I know what to do and how to prepare, next time will be faster. I was even able to pick off another typo (how many will I continue to find, even after a million reads!) before uploading. So this is a massively improved version! Go get it! (I deleted an extraneous “the”; I think the whole book is a lot clearer for now.) Jerry's Big Picture. Here's a close up look at his face. I tried to go for the slobbering look and I think it came across nicely. It just enhances the "mean and stupid" feel. The biggest problem I had with this model is the mold lines. I tried to melt them with plastic glue, but that didn't work. So I put green stuff in the lines, and that just worsened it. So I tried to minimize the lines with the paint job. That worked somewhat, but not all that well. It's too bad, as this guy is a set-piece for my army and will get a lot of attention. Well, at least I tried! Fate's Needle. Ulfrik stood in the front rank, on his father’s shield side. He pushed up his leather cap, which constantly slid over his eyes. Once I’m a blooded warrior, I’ll have my own helmet. On Ulfrik’s shield side stood his father’s hirdmen. Behind them, a crowd of about thirty men—all from the nearby farms or standing troops—formed ranks. Looking over at his eldest son, Orm reached out, removed the ill-fitting leather cap, and tossed it away. He said nothing. Ulfrik could feel his heart hammering in his chest, even though no enemy was in sight. “Grim, go back to the hall,” Orm ordered, pointing at his youngest son. Grim, wearing one of Ulfrik’s tunics that hung loosely on his young frame, had been fluttering about the front rank, brandishing a small knife and boasting about killing the enemy. His face crumpled at his father’s command. “If Ulfrik can fight in the shield wall, so can I!” “Fool child, nothing but trouble from the day you were born. Your brother is fifteen, and smarter than you’ll ever be. Now go, before I crack your head.” Grim appeared about to speak, but kept silent. He dared to glower at his father, then faced Ulfrik and spat at his feet before running back across the dew-laden grass toward the hall. “Better keep your brother in check,” Orm said, peering over Ulfrik’s head to the tree line beyond. “I’ve no patience for his complaints.” Ulfrik nodded, wondering when his father had ever had patience for Grim. He watched his brother’s form dissolve into the gray and green background. Ever since they had received news of the raiding ships, Grim had not stopped trying to join the defense. Ulfrik had told him to stay away, if only to keep their father from beating him senseless, but his brother never took his advice. The chill morning was quiet but for wind rushing over the cleared fields around his uncle Auden’s hall. When the wind lulled, the rasp of weapons and hushed talk of the warriors could be heard. Ulfrik continued scanning the distance. He felt his pulse throb in his neck, and was self-conscious for it. The older warriors seemed unconcerned about facing savage Vestfold raiders. Eventually, two figures approached from the woods: scouts, now returning. “The raiders have pulled up their ship as far as the inlets could take them. They’re on foot now, moving with purpose,” the older scout reported. Orm grunted and smiled. Ulfrik swallowed hard at the news. His father nodded to Auden, who commanded one of his men to raise Grenner’s standard, a green flag with elk antlers in black. Orm cheered as his standard fluttered, and the others joined in. “Cheer with us, lad.” The hirdman at Ulfrik’s shield side, Snorri, elbowed him. “Let those whoreson raiders know the land is protected.” Smiling, Ulfrik joined in the hollering; it felt like a celebration. These fierce men would drive back the scum from Vestfold. The invaders had no chance. Then, the enemy emerged—at first just muted smudges in the distance with sporadic white flashes as the thin sun glanced off their weapons. Orm and the men bellowed in challenge. “Form up the line to prevent flanking. Make them come to us.” Orm gestured toward the center of the field, and the men formed two straight lines as Orm had commanded. Undaunted by the challenge, the enemy marched toward them. “The line’s too thin.” Auden worried. “What it if breaks? They’ll split us up.” Orm didn’t seem concerned, which Ulfrik admired. He had never seen his father command men in battle, but he knew by heart the stories of his father’s bravery and cunning. Now, Ulfrik would make a new story at his father’s side. Unlike Auden, Ulfrik was certain of victory. “Keep your shield on me, lad,” Snorri said, nodding toward the loose group of about thirty approaching raiders. “I’m trusting you to guard my life.” “I am ready, Snorri,” Ulfrik said, but he felt his knees buckle and his breath grow ragged. He regretted refusing the mead and ale the men had been passing around earlier to steady their nerves. Watching the solemn march of the enemy, he whispered a prayer to Thor to keep his sword true in battle. The raiders halted in the middle of the field, out of bow range. Two men strode forward, hulking figures in furs and mail hauberks. The one at the back shouldered a two-handed ax. Orm tapped Ulfrik with his shield. “Come with us to the parley and learn how it’s done. There are many ways to tell a man to go fuck a goat. I’ll show you a few now.” Orm and Auden peeled out of the shield wall to confront their enemies. Ulfrik, trying to keep his face devoid of expression, followed, but his head felt hot and his eyes wanted to close. As they approached the men, Ulfrik realized the shorter man was the leader. He was stout and thick-necked, and his eyes glinted with what Ulfrik recognized as conceit. Grim might look like him when he comes of age , he thought. Two gold arm rings encircled his biceps beneath the cuff of the hauberk and his black hair blew forward over his face as he waited. Ulfrik noticed the dazzling green gem set in the pommel of the man’s sword. “I am Orm the Bellower, Jarl of Grenner,” his father said as they approached. Ulfrik said nothing, merely turned up his chin defiantly. “You are trespassing on my lands, dogface. I’ll allow you and your band of swineherds to leave now without punishment.” The leader did not flinch. Ulfrik watched the exchange with fascination. He would have to do this one day, when his father passed Grenner on to him. Orm’s warning, however, seemed bland. Ulfrik had seen his father angered more readily by a spilled mug of ale. Perhaps it’s all part of the act . “I am Aki Geirson, and my men and I will leave. But the price is twenty pounds of silver.” Orm and Auden laughed. The man named Aki remained impassive, his hair blowing across his face. The other raider with him hitched his ax up his shoulder and appeared bored. Orm looked Aki up and down. “Listen to me, Aki Geirson. I’ve seen your type before; their skulls now watch over my coast from the tops of poles. I will add you and your men to that guard duty. Now leave here and never return, or I will feed your guts to the birds, you turd-eating pig.” “Twenty pounds of silver,” Aki repeated. “And we leave without burning your hall and taking your little boy as a slave.” Ulfrik startled at Aki’s acknowledgement, and his gaze flew to his father. A brief smile alighted on Aki’s thin lips. “You choose death, Aki Geirson.” Orm turned, and Auden followed. For a moment, Ulfrik worried the axman would chop them down from behind, but Aki and his guard also turned away. Ulfrik hurried behind his father and uncle, the wind filling his ears as they crossed the field back to their lines. “He looks like a good brawler,” Orm told Auden, but his eyes remained on his own men. “What did you see in his men? Bows?” Auden, also looking ahead, replied, “No bows that I saw, but spears. I counted twenty-eight. Their weapons are not well maintained. They’ll run off when the fighting gets tough.” Orm grunted again as they returned to the line. He looked down at Ulfrik with the barest of smiles on his face. “The parley is a chance to get a better look at the enemy. Take someone you trust to it; let him count enemy spears and give you advice.” Ulfrik nodded, turning back to Aki, who had disappeared into the crowd of raiders. “What now? Do we wait here?” Orm did not acknowledge Ulfrik, instead stepping in front of the men. “Listen, they are weak and we are strong. They are desperate and we are calm. We have some numbers over them, and bows. Fire on them as they close, but hold this line. They’ll try to put a swinehead through us. We’ll fold up on their flanks and cut them to bits. No prisoners. Understood?” The men roared, and Orm encouraged their bloodlust. Ulfrik joined in, but felt his own calls were lame, unheard squeals. He knew Aki and his fiercest men would lead the swinehead—the wedge formation used to break a shield wall—which meant they would collide directly with Ulfrik’s position. He straightened up, squeezing out the jitters. Aki lead his men closer, still in a loose group, and began to hurl insults. With all the ferocity Ulfrik expected from his father, Orm yelled back across the expanse. Orm the Bellower could be heard above anything, across any battlefield. His battle cry weakened men and frightened wolves. Ulfrik felt proud to stand next to him at this moment, and to let out his own bellow. “Arrows!” Orm called. But the weak hunting bows failed to reach Aki’s line. Aki and his men laughed and showed their backsides. More arrows flew, one actually landing among them. A section of their ranks jumbled to avoid the arrows. After a while, neither side had advanced and the cajoling and cursing grew uninspired. Ulfrik anticipated the attack. He could already feel the enemy shields clashing on his own. Orm must have sensed it as well. “Ready shields. They’ll come at us soon.” True enough, Aki called out and pointed at them with his sword; the green gem on the pommel flashed, as if winking at Ulfrik. Then the whole group moved forward at a jog. Orm’s few bowmen fired and first blood was shed as an arrow found a mark. A raider fell, clutching his neck. As the enemies approached, screaming and cursing, they picked up speed. Then they seemed to slow, and they raised their arms. At first, Ulfrik didn’t understand. “Spears!” Orm screamed, raising his shield. With a hiss, the enemy let their spears fly, some hurling two at a time. The heavy shafts sailed in steady arcs, thudding all along the line and into the earth before them. Ulfrik ducked behind his shield just as someone behind him screamed with a wet gurgle. “Lock shields!” Orm cried again. “No mercy!” Ulfrik hurried to place his shield on Snorri’s. Beside him, Orm’s shield clacked on his own. Over the leather shield rim, Ulfrik saw Aki leading a charge, his men forming a loose wedge behind him. Screams washed over them, and Ulfrik pulled behind his shield and braced for the onslaught. None of the powerful kicks Orm had ever delivered to Ulfrik’s shield in drills could compare to the impact of a real charge. The enemy crashed down upon Ulfrik; Aki had probably guessed he was the weakest link. He felt himself driven back as the charge plowed home, but the man behind shoved him forward, smashing Ulfrik up against the point of the swinehead. His breath pressed out of his chest, Ulfrik swooned. But somehow he still stood. The noise was deafening: the roars and curses of men on both sides, the clash of shields like rocks clattering down a mountainside. Then, under the shield came a gray iron blade. Ulfrik sprang back, the blade searching for his crotch or inner thigh—either strike would bleed him out in minutes. In answer, spears plunged down from behind him, striking over the shield wall at the enemy. Regaining his composure, Ulfrik jabbed his short blade under the shield, feeling it turn on something as he did. Now came the steady killing. Men on both sides howled and screamed. The tang of blood rose into the air. Ulfrik kept his shield over Snorri, who screamed and jabbed his blade beneath it. Orm, next to him, pushed forward into Aki. Giddy and light-headed, Ulfrik stabbed his sword again and again beneath his shield until it came away bloody. It had to have been Aki’s blood; the enemy leader shrieked in pain whenever Ulfrik felt the resistance to his strike. It was an incredible feeling to exist only in the timeless space of battle—a space in which people moved with perfect clarity. Ulfrik didn’t know how it happened, but suddenly the orderly battle lines on both sides were broken. Men were pairing off in combat. To his left, Snorri had engaged a red-haired giant with a bloody ax. A sallow-faced man came at Ulfrik with a spear from the front. Instinctively, his shield arm snapped up, saving him but lodging the enemy spear deep into the wood and sending Ulfrik careening backward. The attacker, also without a shield, dropped his spear and fumbled for his long knife. It was the pause Ulfrik needed. He stepped into the gap and sliced upward, his blade ripping through the man’s unprotected throat like old linen. Blood gushed down the man’s body as he flopped face down with Ulfrik standing over him. The close but disordered ranks of men crashed into him all around. Before him, Orm and Aki traded blows strong enough to behead a horse. Aki, despite being shorter, steadily beat Orm back until Ulfrik saw his father stumble over a corpse. Again the world slowed down. Orm toppled backward, one arm out to break his fall, his shield arm drawn protectively over his chest. Aki’s eyes seemed lit with a feral fire. He stepped into Orm’s fall, hauling his sword back, preparing to plunge it into the gap in Orm’s defense. Ulfrik, watching, felt everything move too slowly; it could not be real. He leaped forward, his borrowed sword seeming almost to pull him toward Aki’s exposed armpit. The iron blade thrust easily through the chain links, plunged into Aki’s soft skin, and finally halted on bone deep inside. He saw Aki’s eye blaze. Then the man’s eyelids fluttered, his pupils dimmed. Brilliant scarlet sprayed Aki’s sides and his mouth fell open, releasing a torrent of blood as he twisted and fell. Ulfrik, amazed, forgot to release his sword; it snapped as Aki toppled. Jerry Autieri. I’ve been busily pounding away on my keyboard these days, writing the sequel to Fate’s Needle. To be completely honest, there was actually a sequel already written for it. But I threw it out. I wrote it during the editing process for the first book. But once I had completely revised Fate’s Needle, I saw a few problems in the sequel. The first thing was that the sequel sucked. You will thank me for trashing it. Second, the characters had changed so much that they didn’t really act like themselves any longer in the sequel. Rather than do a heavy revision, I started again. Last night I hit a major milestone in my writing. I’ve got about one-third of the first draft done. Hooray for small victories! This represents 33,000 words, which represents about 97 paperback pages. So this is a great milestone for hitting my ideal book length. Even thought the real celebration comes when I hit that “publish” button, it’s important to pat myself on the back during the writing process. I may even go downstairs and eat a Hagen-Daz ice cream bar to reward myself. I may even eat one when I’m not rewarding myself. I’m funny that way. So, what’s the new book about? I’m so glad you asked! Here’s my “working blurb” for the story. Ulfrik has resettled his people on the remote Faeroe Islands. Years of struggle have forged a wealthy and strong community. But powerful neighbors soon become jealous of Ulfrik’s success, and turn predatory eyes on his lands. Forbidden love becomes a spark that ignites a war. Ulfrik defends his home from greedy and opportunistic antagonists, all while an old enemy closes a trap on him that could destroy everything and everyone he loves. Yup, I went for the high drama. I’ve planned a lot of fighting scenes and plentiful violence. I love Viking violence! But the story is solid, miles above what I had written before. Cheer me on as I hammer this one out. Only 66,000 words to go! Is the killer of an Iowa teen linked to missing news anchor Jodi Huisentruit? Michelle Martinko's killer curiously mentions Jodi Huisentruit's name in his police interview. Was it nervous banter or something more sinister? 2020 Nov 06 By Alec Sirken Facebook Twitter Reddit Flipboard. In late June of 1995, Jodi Huisentruit , a young anchor at KIMT television in Mason City, Iowa, disappeared from the parking lot of her apartment building on the way to work, never to be seen again. The case got nationwide media attention but has remained an unsolved mystery for the past 25 years. Now, the solving of another long-cold case—a young blonde woman murdered in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, two hours away may shed new light on Huisentruit's disappearance and presumed murder. Michelle Martinko, left, and Jodi Huisentruit. The murder of Michelle Martinko in the parking lot of Cedar Rapids' Westdale Mall has some eerie connections to the Huisentruit case. And the crucial link is a man named Jerry Burns. "Murder at the Mall: The Michelle Martinko Case," reported by "48 Hours" contributor Jamie Yuccas, airs on Saturday, November 7 at 10/9c on CBS. Martinko was 18, a senior in high school in 1979, when she was accosted as she was getting into her car on a chilly night in December following a trip to the mall. A struggle followed in which Michelle was stabbed and sliced by a knife almost 30 times in a horrific murder that police initially believed had to be a crime of passion. "It looks personal, it's a lot of stab wounds, it's overkill," said lead Detective Matt Denlinger of the Cedar Rapids Police Department. "It's always the boyfriend, the girlfriend, the husband — someone really close to the person." Whoever the killer was, he had come prepared. Police found impressions from rubber gloves inside and outside the car, indicating that the assailant had likely planned his attack and hoped to escape unidentified. Denlinger took over the case in 2015, part of a second generation of cops who had struggled for decades to solve this seemingly unsolvable murder. In fact, his father Harvey, now 85, had been one of the original officers on the case 40 years earlier. But detectives had been stymied. They had investigated more than 100 people over the years, and all were dead ends. What began to turn the case around was the emergence of DNA as a forensic tool for crime fighting in the late 1990s. The primary evidence police had to go on was blood on Michelle's dress and on the car's gearshift that in 2005 was finally identified as male DNA. The black dress Michelle Martinko was wearing when she was murdered was sent to the lab for testing. A spot of blood on the dress had a full male DNA profile and was consistent with the male DNA profile found on the gear shift. Cedar Rapids Police Department. Police sent the blood samples to CODIS — the nationwide data base of DNA collected from arrested offenders — but didn't get a hit. They then started to locate all the people that they had originally interviewed in the investigation and collected DNA samples from over 100 different people. Denlinger had to consider that Michelle could have been murdered by a stranger. And he had the daunting task of trying to figure out who that could be, armed only with an unidentified sample of blood DNA. After reading about the Golden State Killer case in 2018, in which serial killer Joseph James DeAngelo was finally caught through a long trail of DNA, Denlinger had an epiphany: perhaps he could use that same new technique to solve the Martinko case. "That was big, national news," said Denlinger. "I read the article and it talked about genetic genealogy. And I went 'bingo'." Denlinger began contacting genealogy companies for help in trying to find a family tree that could lead to the person whose DNA matched that found at the crime scene. He began working with Parabon NanoLabs, now a leading company helping police solve crimes through genetic tracing. Through his research, he discovered that a woman named Brandy Jennings had uploaded her DNA to a website service to trace her own family history. It showed that she was a distant relative of the person whose DNA was found at the crime scene — a second cousin once removed. So Denlinger drew up an elaborate genealogy chart going back to Brandy's great-great grandparents to sleuth out a trail that could lead to the killer's DNA. After weeks pursuing a wide range of possible blood relatives, Parabon helped him narrow the search down to three middle-aged brothers in Iowa who would have been young men back in 1979: Ken, Don and Jerry Burns. Denlinger followed each of the brothers around clandestinely, waiting for them to discard an item containing their DNA, and then sent the collected samples to the crime lab. Ken and Don were not a match — but Jerry Burns' DNA was a match, to an almost perfect scientific certainty. Denlinger had found the needle in the haystack. "I was speechless," Denlinger says, recalling the moment the lab told him the results. On December 19, 2018, 39 years after Michelle Martinkp was murdered, Det. Denlinger interviewed Burns at his business. Denlinger recorded him using a camera that was hidden inside a coffee mug. Burns denied any involvement in the murder. Just before his arrest, Burns, unsolicited, mentioned the name of missing Iowa anchor Jodi Huisentruit as he was being questioned about the Martinko case. Prosecutor Nick Maybanks/Cedar Rapids Police Department. Subsequently he interviewed Jerry Burns, who denied knowing or ever meeting Michelle Martinko. But the jury found the DNA connection convincing and after a nine-day trial, Burns was convicted of first-degree murder. The case was solved, but there were lingering questions about Jerry Burns. Police had searched his computer after arresting him, and found a history of searches pertaining to nefarious subjects including the murder of blonde women, and pornographic matter involving blonde women. This evidence was inadmissible at trial but was the subject of a public suppression hearing. In his video interview with police right before his arrest, Burns, unsolicited, mentioned the name of Jodi Huisentruit as he was being questioned about the Martinko case. When Denlinger reminded Burns that Michelle had been killed in 1979, Burns responded, "It was a big deal. I don't exactly remember what happened, seen something about Jodi Huisentruit recently." The similarities were eerie — two pretty, young women, both meeting their final fate in parking lots in Iowa, 16 years apart, in cases that went unsolved for decades. There is no known DNA evidence tying Burns to the Huisentruit case and no evidence that he knew Jodi Huisentruit. Mason City police won't disclose whether or not they are now looking at Jerry Burns as a suspect in that case. Could Jerry Burns have committed murders other than Michelle Martinko's? When asked that question by "48 Hours," Denlinger replied, "I don't know the answer to that. My gut tells me there's probably something else out there."