For any of you who have discovered you love my work so much you’ll read anything with my name on it, I should mention I have two new tie-in projects coming out next year – the novelization of the Sony game God of War, and a player to be named later (I don’t release project news before the publisher does – I guess I’m just superstitious that way).

Offering deeper insights into the critically acclaimed God of War® franchise, this novel returns us to the dark world of ancient Greek mythology explored in the heart-pounding action of God of War I, the bestselling video game.

A brutal warrior, Kratos is a slave to the gods of Olympus. Plagued by the nightmares of his past and yearning for freedom, the Ghost of Sparta would do anything to be free of his debt to the gods. He is on the verge of losing all hope when the gods give him one last task to end his servitude.

He must destroy Ares, the god of war.

But what chance does a mere mortal have against a god? Armed with the deadly chained Blades of Chaos, guided by the goddess Athena, and driven by his own insatiable thirst for vengeance, Kratos seeks the only relic powerful enough to slay Ares . . . a quest that will take him deep into the mysterious temple borne by the Titan Cronos!

From the black depths of Hades to the war-torn city of Athens to the lost desert beyond, God of War sheds a brutal new light on the bestselling video game and on the legend of Kratos.

Sometimes it’s tears in a shopping mall. Sometimes it’s solemn watching while others play. Sometimes it’s calling for a runaway puppy.

This time it’s the skitter of gravel under bicycle wheels, long after dark.

This time.

US 30 unrolled under their wheels like a red carpet to Nebraska, bleached gray by the van’s headlamps. Heavy clouds like boulders in the sky knocked together and rolled apart in their eastbound avalanche. Each glimpse of the huge round moon transformed the highway into a twisted silver spine. Headhigh corn lined the road either side, swaying in the wind like breathing walls in a morphine nightmare.

Frankie slouched down in the passenger seat and slicked his tangled hair back with the sweat from his palms. His imagination was getting away with him again.

“Iowa,” he said, a little too loud. “Breadbasket to the world. God’s country. Buckle on the Bible Belt. Land of cornfed Republicans.”

“Shut up,” Decker said flatly. He squinted at the road through the greasy smoke of the Pall Mall that dangled from his lower lip. Decker didn’t have any imagination at all. Sometimes Frankie admired him for that. “We’re hittin Carroll in about five minutes. Get in back an sit on the littlefuckers.”

He was being hunted. Somehow he had become their prey, like the rilda that grazed on this plain. Except slower. So much slower.

Stam Corfej had been peddling his wares among the Fal’Borna for the better part of eight fours; more than half a lifetime. He knew as well as anyone how hard the white-haired sorcerers of the Central Plain could be. He’d bargained with them, been threatened by them, been called a cheat and a dark-eye bastard and worse. More than once he’d considered giving up on the Qirsi and returning to his native Aelea. A peddler could do well in the Mountain Nation, perhaps not inland, but along her rocky shores, in Redcliff or Yorl.

But it had never taken him long to dismiss the idea of returning to the sovereignty. Whatever gold he might make in Eandi territory he could double and then some trading among the Fal’Borna. He knew the tastes of the golden-skinned clan. He knew their ways, and he knew how to best them in a negotiation.

And while he didn’t particularly like the white-hairs, he had never felt threatened by them. At least not until now.

Normally, I would not write anything about this, but I feel obliged to let those of you awaiting the release of Godborn know that I have ended my relationship with Wizards of the Coast. As a result, I will not be writing Godborn and my contribution to the Forgotten Realms will end with The Twilight War. I sincerely apologize to those of you who were awaiting The Cycle of Night.

All that happened here is that Wizards made a decision that they thought was appropriate (and was, in fact, based on perfectly valid reasons), but that decision conflicted with what I thought was appropriate. We tried to resolve matters in good faith, but it just wasn’t to be. It’s unfortunate, but it goes that way sometimes. And that’s all I’ll have to say about it so please don’t ask for further details.

I remain grateful to Wizards for publishing my novels, and in particular have nothing but the highest of praise for my editor, Phil Athans. Honestly, my primary regret here is that I feel like I’ve let a lot of you down. So again, please accept my apologies if you were one of those awaiting Godborn.

The David Gemmell Morningstar Award for Best Newcomer will “give recognition to emerging talent in the field of fantasy fiction. As David Gemmell always took a keen interest in new writers, and helped many onto the path to publication, we regard this as an appropriate category to add, and one we feel sure David would have approved.”

The David Gemmell Ravenheart Award for Best Fantasy Cover Art will “honor the best fantasy book cover art. The importance of fantasy cover art deserves admiration, as do the artists who produce it, yet there is no major UK award acknowledging this. The Ravenheart Award will fulfill that role.”

Like the Legend Award, the winners of these new awards will be decided by popular vote. The first Legend Award was decided by a remarkable 11,000 voters from around the world, and Nicholls is “confident that the Morningstar and Ravenheart awards, which are being created with the full approval of the Gemmell family, will be greeted with no less enthusiasm.