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Welcome!

Jon Cronshaw writes books. Some of them are about life after the end of the world. Others are about life on other worlds and in virtual worlds. He also writes about fantasy worlds. And occasionally, he even writes things set in the real world, but when he does, there’s usually something weird going on…

Available now:

00 The Fool

An epic tale of fire and blood…

Kat is first in line to the Ostreich throne, but the last thing she wants to do is rule.

When the day she’s been dreading finally arrives, she’s forced to choose between obeying her mother and giving her life to the Empire, or following her own path towards a magical destiny.

With only her apprentice friend, Hansel, and wyvern, Witz, as advisers, Kat must decide whether to accept her fate or follow her heart.

If she stays, she faces a life of misery. If she leaves, war will descend on her people.

The Fool is the first episode of the coming-of-age epic fantasy serial, The Ravenglass Chronicles. Inspired by the tarot and set in a rich medieval world, it is an epic journey of magic, adventure, and forbidden love.

Get your FREE copy now.

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BlindGambit (3)

He’s the game’s only hope…but the truth is, he sucks…

In the near future, the B-chip allows blind people to see in virtual worlds. The only time Brian really feels alive is when he’s playing Gambit…even though he’s the worst player.

When a hacker seeks to destroy the game, Brian’s B-chip makes him immune to the weapon that’s kicking everyone else out.

But immunity isn’t enough. He must level-up to take on Gambit’s biggest threat.

With the help of friends and rivals, Brian needs to learn new skills, craft awesome weapons, and discover who or what is trying to tear down the only thing he cares about before it’s too late…

In the real world, Brian is forced to confront his blindness. But how can he adjust to a world without sight when Gambit offers so much more?

Written by a visually impaired author, Blind Gambit is a unique GameLit novel packed with action, fun, and geek culture references, all combined with a raw and honest insight into disability.

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TheWasteLandSeries-Boxset (1).jpg

Finding hope in a hopeless world…

Abel survived the apocalypse, but drugs nearly killed him. With the shadow of his former addiction looming over him, Abel must do all he can to survive, and help those around him find hope in a hopeless world.

In the first novel, Wizard of the Wasteland, Abel joins a travelling showman, and tries to save a group of enslaved children from a brutal drug gang.

Knight of the Wasteland sees Abel take a boy under his wing suffering from the same addiction that almost killed him, and offers the kid a chance of a better life.

In King of the Wasteland, a new reign of terror is spreading across the wastes, and only Abel can warn his friends and organise a reluctant army before the onslaught begins.

Brought together for the first time in one collection, Jon Cronshaw’s Wasteland trilogy is post-apocalyptic adventure with a heart, featuring gripping action, unforgettable characters, and a vivid dystopian world…

Containing Wizard of the Wasteland, Knight of the Wasteland, and King of the Wasteland, this post-apocalyptic survival series is perfect for fans of Meg Elison’s The Book of the Unnamed Midwife, Daniel Humphreys’ A Place Called Hope, and Cormac McCarthy’s The Road.

If you like unforgettable characters, gripping action, and emotional storytelling, order your copy today!

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Find out more:

The best way to keep up with all the latest news is to subscribe to Jon Cronshaw’s Author Diary podcast through Apple Podcasts, Libsyn, or wherever you find your podcasts. Click HERE to download the latest episode.
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Sign-up for Jon’s author newsletter where you will receive all the latest news about releases and offers, plus he’ll even send you exclusive free stories. Click HERE to sign-up now.

Follow Jon:

Amazon: amazon.com/author/joncronshaw.

BookBub: bookbub.com/authors/jon-cronshaw.

Facebook: Facebook.com/joncronshawauthor

Twitter: @jlcronshaw.

 

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Announcing: The King of the Wasteland audio edition is now available!

The audio edition of King of the Wasteland, the third book in the Wasteland series, is now available on Audible and iTunes.

Abel ended the Family’s reign of violence, but a new terror is spreading through the wastes.

Self-proclaimed King Omar and his band of raiders are on a destructive path of death and devastation that will lead them straight to Trinity.

When Abel learns of the king’s intentions, he sets out to warn the people of Trinity of the danger that threatens to destroy their peaceful existence.

Can Abel lead this group of reluctant fighters against the battle-hardened forces of King Omar?

If you like emotional post-apocalyptic survival fiction, gripping action, and unforgettable characters, you’ll love King of the Wasteland.

Click HERE to order your copy today.

f you’ve never used Audible before, you can get Wizard of the Wasteland and Knight of the Wasteland for free when you sign-up. Click HERE to find out more.

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Announcing: The Wasteland Series boxset is now available!

The complete Wasteland trilogy is now available for the first time as the Wasteland series boxset.

Containing the three books Wizard of the Wasteland, Knight of the Wasteland, and King of the Wasteland, this boxset is the perfect way to immerse yourself in the grim post-apocalyptic world.

Order your copy today for a third off the combined price of the separate titles.

Click HERE to order your copy on Amazon Kindle or read as part of your subscription to Kindle Unlimited.

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Announcing: Knight of the Wasteland audio edition now available!

I’m very excited to announce that the audio edition of Knight of the Wasteland (book 2 in the Wasteland series) is now available on Audible and iTunes!

The audiobook is narrated by Ian Coleman, and I couldn’t be more pleased with the results. The narration adds a nice new dimension to the story. It also features an audio author’s note by yours truly.

In a world ravaged by dust storms and poisonous rains, Abel has survived feral dogs, raiders, and drug addiction… but he’s done with just surviving. Now, he wants to start living.

When Abel stumbles across a boy suffering from the same addiction that almost killed him, he takes the kid under his wing and offers him a new life… a life free from drugs.

But when a brutal drug gang comes after the kid, Abel must risk everything to keep him safe and end The Family’s reign of terror, or die trying.

Set a generation after the fall of civilization, Knight of the Wasteland is the follow-up to Jon Cronshaw’s gripping debut, Wizard of the Wasteland.

Click HERE to order your copy and start listening today!

If you’ve never used Audible before, you can get Wizard of the Wasteland and Knight of the Wasteland for free when you sign-up. Click HERE to find out more.

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Announcing: King of the Wasteland (Book 3 of the Wasteland series)

Abel ended the Family’s reign of violence, but a new terror is spreading through the wastes.

Self-proclaimed King Omar and his band of raiders are on a destructive path of death and devastation that will lead them straight to Trinity.

When Abel learns of the king’s intentions, he sets out to warn the people of Trinity of the danger that threatens to destroy their peaceful existence.

Can Abel lead this group of reluctant fighters against the battle-hardened forces of King Omar?

If you like emotional post-apocalyptic survival fiction, gripping action, and unforgettable characters, you’ll love King of the Wasteland.

Click HERE to order your copy today.

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Announcing: The Wizard of the Wasteland audio edition is now available!

The Wizard of the Wasteland audiobook is now available to download from iTunes and Audible.

The audiobook is narrated by Ian Coleman, and I couldn’t be more pleased with the results. The narration adds a nice new dimension to the story.

Finding hope in a hopeless world…

Abel survived the apocalypse but drugs nearly killed him. He scratches out a living scavenging for anything of value until he witnesses something incredible…the Wizard of the Wasteland.

When Abel joins the travelling showman, passing off pre-apocalypse technology as objects of magic and intrigue, they come upon a horrifying sight: a group of children enslaved by the brutal drug gang The Family.

As he and the wizard take on the challenge of freeing the slaves, Abel must resist the temptations of a world without hope. To keep the kids from reliving his miserable existence, he’ll have to risk everything. Even having the wizard on his side may not be enough…

Wizard of the Wasteland is a post-apocalyptic action adventure novel for fans of Fallout, The Stand, Alas, Babylon, and The Road. If you like unforgettable characters, gripping action, and new takes on dystopian survival tales, then you’ll love the first book in Jon Cronshaw’s thrilling new series.

Click HERE to order your copy today.

For those who’ve never used Audible, you can get Wizard of the Wasteland for FREE with a no obligation free trial.

Try Audible and Get Two Free Audiobooks

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Announcing: Knight of the Wasteland (Wasteland, Book 2)

The follow-up to my debut novel, Knight of the Wasteland is now available to order.

The story follows Abel, a reformed drug addict, trying to find meaning in a meaningless world.

After the events of Wizard of the Wasteland, Abel must rebuild his life and find a new purpose. When he stumbles across a kid who has escaped from the brutal drug gang The Family, he takes the boy under his wing and offers to teach him to live…

If you enjoy novels like Pat Frank’s Alas, Babylon, Cormac McCarthy’s The Road<, or John Christopher’s The Death of Grass, you’ll love Knight of the Wasteland. Available in paperback and ebook.

Click HERE to order your copy today.

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Wizard of the Wasteland is now live!

I am very excited to announce that my debut novel Wizard of the Wasteland is now available in paperback, Kindle, and Kindle Unlimited.

Wizard of the Wasteland is a post-apocalyptic adventure set a generation after the end of the civilised world. It follows the story of Abel, a reformed drug addict, who joins a travelling showman’s magic show.

When the pair come across a group of children being held captive by the brutal drug gang The Family, Abel must give everything he has to save them.

Early reviewers have said the book is like Stephen King’s The Stand meets Cormac McCarthy’s The Road, and offers a fresh take on the genre.

Click HERE to read today.

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Addict of the Wasteland paperback now available!

Addict of the Wasteland, the prequel novella to my Wasteland series, is now available to as a paperback for just £4.99/$4.99.

The addict leads a desperate life, stealing and robbing to pay for his next fix.

When the addict arrives at a settlement to hawk some stolen books, its leader offer him something he did not expect: the chance to get clean.

The addict must resist the temptations of a world without hope and live under the strict rules of settlement. And even having help on his side may not be enough…

Available for the first time as a paperback, Addict of the Wasteland is a post-apocalyptic novella about finding hope and redemption against all odds and includes the short stories from Jon Cronshaw’s collection of post-apocalyptic tales, Host.

Click HERE to buy today or click on the link to the right to claim your free ebook.

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Announcing: Her Name Was Red and Other Fantasy Tales

With no knowledge of her identity, the mysterious messenger known only as Red travels the land in search of her past. An urgent delivery puts her on the path to the secretive Gottsisle monastery, where she is captured by slavers.

She fights back to save her dark glass blade, the only connection to her forgotten past, and unwittingly awakens its dormant magic. Can Red control the power or will it control her?

Her Name is Red and Other Fantasy Tales brings together nine stories of magic, dragons, and wizards – all released from the imaginative mind of Jon Cronshaw.

Do you believe in magic?

Click HERE to buy Her Name is Red and Other Fantasy Tales today. Available in Paperback and Kindle formats.

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Announcing: The Gibson Continuum and Other Stories

In these ten short stories, ghosts of 1980s nostalgia haunt a young man searching for the essence of cyberpunk; sentient AIs respond to the death of the last human; a cleaner on Titan Orbiter becomes embroiled in a workers’ revolution; and a man figures out he can live forever by gaming subjective time.

Ranging from a portrait of a dystopian future where institutionalised cannibalism is commonplace to a post-Earth solar system where pirates fight against copyrighted seeds and unaffordable medicines, Jon Cronshaw’s poignant tales reflect on themes of technology, memory, love, and madness with startling imagination.

The Gibson Continuum and Other Stories is a thought-provoking collection examining what it means to be human — perfect for fans of William Gibson, Bruce Sterling, Samuel R. Delany, and Robert A. Heinlein.

Click HERE to buy today.

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Announcing: Host and Other Post-Apocalyptic Stories

After the plagues came, humanity’s only means of survival was the hosts — but at what price?

This collection of three post-apocalyptic stories by Jon Cronshaw brings together dystopian tales of hope, horror and wonder.

In To Grip the Bright White Chains, an elderly drug dealer tries to bring hope to a hopeless world. But how will she protect the children from the drugs she sells?

In The Wizard of the Wastes, a travelling showman travels the wasteland, showing the wonders of ancient technology. How will a roadside settlement of superstitious people react to his magical extravaganza?

Click HERE to buy now.

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Announcing: Addict of the Wasteland

The addict leads a desperate life, stealing and robbing to pay for his next fix.

When the addict arrives at a settlement to hawk some stolen books, its leader offer him something he did not expect: the chance to get clean.

The addict must resist the temptations of a world without hope and live under the strict rules of settlement. And even having help on his side may not be enough…

Addict of the Wasteland is a post-apocalyptic tale about finding hope and redemption against all odds.

Download Addict of the Wasteland to survive a twisted future today!

Click HERE to get your FREE copy of Addict of the Wasteland.

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I’ve signed up for #NaNoWriMo 2016

I’ve signed up for National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) to write my debut novel, Wizard of the Wasteland.

It is the first book in a post-apocalyptic series following the adventures of a reformed drug addict surviving in a hostile world. I’m thinking of it as being like The Road meets Breaking Bad.

You can follow my progress here or by following me on Twitter @jlcronshaw.

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The Speed of Boredom

I hold the yawn in my mouth, swallow the boredom. I look up at the clock while the lecturer talks and talks. How can time crawl like this? I fall into my mind, dividing time into the objective and subjective, the measurable and the personal. Time dilates at the speed of boredom. A minute seems like five, an hour an eternity.

The thought occurs to me: what if I push the edges of my own subjective time? What if I strive for boredom? They say ‘time flies when you’re having fun’. They say ‘live fast, die young’. I say slow down, make yourself a mug of warm milk. Live slow, live forever.

I walk home, take the blandest route. There’s no scenery, nothing of interest. The journey feels longer than it should. I gain several minutes.

Enthused by my revelation, I throw out all the things I love: my books (the good ones), clothes, videogames, movies, music, the wife.

I search online for videos that will extend my life; an hour-long documentary about the history of buses in Wolverhampton from 1972 to 1976 pushes me beyond the edges of boredom. I gain so much, so many hours squeezed into one.

My mum calls me. She’s telling me about her new decking. The temptation to hold my phone away from my ear is almost unbearable. But I think about all the time I’m accumulating. I ask again about Mildred’s hip replacement. So boring.

I tell her I’ve kicked out the wife. She’s not happy. She gets upset. This drama is eating into my life, accelerating my experience of time. I hang up, drop the phone in the toilet, flush.

The lights around the house cast interesting shadows on the walls. I take them out, flush them down the toilet.

There’s a knock at the door, loud and insistent. It’s the wife. She looks sad. She’s been crying. She says she’s worried about me, that I need help. I try to ignore her, turn her words into a drone. That way I’ll gain more time.

I sit in the dark for weeks, eating only crackers and custard creams. I read junk mail, copy the letters out into a notebook, catalogue their contents, make an extensive archive. I watch a video on YouTube about Belgian politics, but turn it off when it’s a bit more interesting than I’d predicted.

There’s a knock at the door. The wife’s back. She’s crying again. My mum stands next to her. She’s crying too. There’s a policewoman, a concerned-looking doctor and an ambulance outside.

I try to explain that they’re stealing my time. They don’t listen. They say it doesn’t work like that, that they can help me. I don’t need their help.

I focus on a beige patch on the wall when I’m strapped down in the back of the ambulance and smile. They can’t take away my time that easily.

This text is copyright 2016 by Jon Cronshaw, released under a BY-NC-ND Creative Commons Licence.

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Taking on the Ray Bradbury Challenge

I’ve decided to take on the Ray Bradbury Challenge. The Challenge is designed to encourage authors to improve their reading habits and write more short fiction.

Stephen King wrote that if you do not read, you have no business writing. Nothing has taught me more about the craft of telling stories than reading the work of others. My hope is that by committing to the Challenge, I’ll be a better storyteller as a result.

The Ray Bradbury Challenge is as follows:

1) Write a short story a week for 52 weeks.
2) Read a short story, a poem and an essay every day for 1,000 days.

I’m severely visually impaired, so I do my ‘reading’ either in an audio or ebook format. I usually read one or two novels and two or three short stories each week, but seldom read poetry.

To fulfil the essay requirement, I will count listening to podcasts such as TED Talks, seminars by the Long Now Foundation, Skeptoid, BBC World Service’s Witness, BBC Radio 4’s In Our Time, BBC Radio 3’s The Essay and the like.

I will document my progress on this blog and encourage you to join me in this Challenge.

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Eating

Grandma was delicious. It was probably the paprika that gave her that extra bite. Her funeral was boring, but once the vicar had finished telling us about a woman he’d never met, the eating was wonderful.

It’s a tradition in our family to specify a recipe as part of your will. I’ve opted for a rosemary crust and three-bean salad.

To share yourself with your neighbours and loved-ones brings everyone closer together. It’s nice.

It’s when things get impersonal that I start to feel a bit weird about it. Take today: I had a great conversation with my cousin while we were working on the marinade. The last time we’d spoken was at uncle Jeff’s eating. He went for the full-on cajun-spiced, flash-fry. He was probably terrible for you, but he was so tasty. It was a real treat.

There was a woman who lived near my mother who died. She had no children or relatives. She was isolated, very lonely. It was sad.

Once the pathologist was done bagging and tagging, and the coroner released the body, she was sent in small parcels to the food-banks around the city. I don’t have a problem with this per se, but there’s something lost. It shouldn’t just be about recycling.

It’s like when there was the fire at that nursery. You couldn’t tell one toddler from another, and no one really wants to be eating some stranger’s kid. So they were shipped off to feed prisoners. I get that this is a good thing. I’m probably just being a snob, but I just find it a bit creepy.

I found out recently that my great aunt Maude is dying, and she’s opted to be stir-fried in walnut oil with garlic, chilli and ginger. I hope she hurries up: I love Chinese food.

This text is copyright 2016 by Jon Cronshaw, released under a BY-NC-ND Creative Commons Licence.

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Introducing the Short Science Fiction Review.

The Short Science Fiction Review is a podcast dedicated to providing short reviews of short science fiction stories.

I will review short stories and novellas by a diverse range of authors, from the earliest scientific romance tales to new voices in the genre.

The authors covered will reflect my own tastes. I enjoy science fiction works that are thought-provoking, mind-bending, political, satirical, or explore an interesting idea, concept or piece of technology.

It is highly unlikely that I will review stories about monsters, dinosaurs, or zombies; hard, technical scientific concepts; or action/adventure.

All of the works reviewed will have been published in established magazines or anthologies. My aim is to make the reviews sufficiently free of spoilers.

I’d love to hear from other short story fans for discussion and recommendations. You can follow me on Twitter @jlcronshaw, friend me on facebook.com/jlcronshaw or follow my Goodreads profile.

You can subscribe to the Short Science Fiction Review on iTunes HERE.

Jon’s Author Diary – 071 – February 10, 2019

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Jon completed his first draft of The Chariot and started work on the second.

Get the show a day early, plus regular short stories and early access to releases by joining Jon on Patreon. Visit: patreon.com/joncronshawauthor to get instant access for as a little as $1 a month.

Email your questions to Jon (at) joncronshaw (dot) com or to <a href=”https://twitter.com/jlcronshaw”>@jlcronshaw</a&gt; on Twitter.

Check out Jon’s other podcasts <a href=”http://stopbookingaround.libsyn.com”>Stop Booking Around!</a>, where he is mentoring an old school friend through the process of writing his first novel and <a href=”http://otakuonwriting.libsync.om”>Otaku on Writing</a> where Jon is joined by two other authors to dissect classic anime to inspire original fiction.

Download The Fool, the first book in The Ravenglass Chronicles for free at <a href=”http://geni.us/ravenglass”>geni.us/ravenglass</a&gt;.

 

<b>Follow Jon online:</b>

Amazon. amazon.com/author/joncronshaw

BookBub. bookbub.com/authors/jon-cronshaw

Facebook. facebook.com/joncronshawauthor

Instagram. @joncronshawauthor

Patreon. patreon.com/joncronshawauthor

Twitter.  @jlcronshaw

Website. joncronshaw.com

If you want to help the show, please consider telling a friend or leaving a review wherever you download your podcasts.                                                         

Check out this episode!

Jon’s Author Diary – 070 – February 3, 2019

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Jon wrote through depression this week to write towards the first draft of The Chariot.

Get the show a day early, plus regular short stories and early access to releases by joining Jon on Patreon. Visit: patreon.com/joncronshawauthor to get instant access for as a little as $1 a month.

Email your questions to Jon (at) joncronshaw (dot) com or to <a href=”https://twitter.com/jlcronshaw”>@jlcronshaw</a&gt; on Twitter.

Check out Jon’s other podcasts <a href=”http://stopbookingaround.libsyn.com”>Stop Booking Around!</a>, where he is mentoring an old school friend through the process of writing his first novel and <a href=”http://otakuonwriting.libsync.om”>Otaku on Writing</a> where Jon is joined by two other authors to dissect classic anime to inspire original fiction.

Download The Fool, the first book in The Ravenglass Chronicles for free at <a href=”http://geni.us/ravenglass”>geni.us/ravenglass</a&gt;.

 

<b>Follow Jon online:</b>

Amazon. amazon.com/author/joncronshaw

BookBub. bookbub.com/authors/jon-cronshaw

Facebook. facebook.com/joncronshawauthor

Instagram. @joncronshawauthor

Patreon. patreon.com/joncronshawauthor

Twitter.  @jlcronshaw

Website. joncronshaw.com

If you want to help the show, please consider telling a friend or leaving a review wherever you download your podcasts.                                                                                                                                       

Check out this episode!

Jon’s Author Diary – 069 – January 27, 2019

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Jon finished his third draft of The Lovers and started work on the first draft of The Chariot.

He talks about re-reading Moby Dick, meditation, and learning harmonica.

Get the show a day early, plus regular short stories and early access to releases by joining Jon on Patreon. Visit: patreon.com/joncronshawauthor to get instant access for as a little as $1 a month.

Email your questions to Jon (at) joncronshaw (dot) com or to <a href=”https://twitter.com/jlcronshaw”>@jlcronshaw</a&gt; on Twitter.

Check out Jon’s other podcasts <a href=”http://stopbookingaround.libsyn.com”>Stop Booking Around!</a>, where he his mentoring an old school friend through the process of writing his first novel and <a href=”http://otakuonwriting.libsync.om”>Otaku on Writing</a> where Jon is joined by two other authors to dissect classic anime to inspire original fiction.

Download The Fool, the first book in The Ravenglass Chronicles for free at <a href=”http://geni.us/ravenglass”>geni.us/ravenglass</a&gt;.

 

<b>Follow Jon online:</b>

Amazon. amazon.com/author/joncronshaw

BookBub. bookbub.com/authors/jon-cronshaw

Facebook. facebook.com/joncronshawauthor

Instagram. @joncronshawauthor

Patreon. patreon.com/joncronshawauthor

Twitter.  @jlcronshaw

Website. joncronshaw.com

If you want to help the show, please consider telling a friend or leaving a review wherever you download your podcasts.                                                                                                                                       

Check out this episode!

Jon’s Author Diary – 068 – January 20, 2019

http://joncronshaw.libsyn.com/068-january-20-2019
Jon spent the week writing the second draft of The Lovers, episode seven of The Ravenglass Chronicles.
He talks about the book The Gulag Archipelago and his decision to join Patreon.
Get the show a day early, plus regular short stories and early access to releases by joining Jon on Patreon. Visit: patreon.com/joncronshawauthor to get instant access for as a little as $1 a month.
Email your questions to Jon (at) joncronshaw (dot) com or to <a href=”https://twitter.com/jlcronshaw”>@jlcronshaw</a> on Twitter.
Check out Jon’s other podcasts <a href=”http://stopbookingaround.libsyn.com”>Stop Booking Around!</a>, where he his mentoring an old school friend through the process of writing his first novel and <a href=”http://otakuonwriting.libsync.om”>Otaku on Writing</a> where Jon is joined by two other authors to dissect classic anime to inspire original fiction.
Download The Fool, the first book in The Ravenglass Chronicles for free at <a href=”http://geni.us/ravenglass”>geni.us/ravenglass</a>.

<b>Follow Jon online:</b>
Amazon. amazon.com/author/joncronshaw
BookBub. bookbub.com/authors/jon-cronshaw
Facebook. facebook.com/joncronshawauthor
Instagram. @joncronshawauthor
Patreon. patreon.com/joncronshawauthor
Twitter. @jlcronshaw
Website. joncronshaw.com
If you want to help the show, please consider telling a friend or leaving a review wherever you download your podcasts.

Jon’s Author Diary – 067 – January 13, 2019

Jon is back at his writing desk after the Christmas break.

He wrote the first draft to The Lovers, episode seven of The Ravenglass Chronicles.

He talks about not missing Twitter, his new harmonica, and how he has taken up meditation.

Get the show a day early, plus regular short stories and early access to releases by joining Jon on Patreon. Visit: patreon.com/joncronshawauthor to get instant access for as a little as $1 a month.

Email your questions to Jon (at) joncronshaw (dot) com or to <a href=”https://twitter.com/jlcronshaw”>@jlcronshaw</a> on Twitter.

Check out Jon’s other podcasts <a href=”http://stopbookingaround.libsyn.com”>Stop Booking Around!</a>, where he his mentoring an old school friend through the process of writing his first novel and <a href=”http://otakuonwriting.libsync.om”>Otaku on Writing</a> where Jon is joined by two other authors to dissect classic anime to inspire original fiction.

Download The Fool, the first book in The Ravenglass Chronicles for free at <a href=”http://geni.us/ravenglass”>geni.us/ravenglass</a>.

 

<b>Follow Jon online:</b>

Amazon. amazon.com/author/joncronshaw

BookBub. bookbub.com/authors/jon-cronshaw

Facebook. facebook.com/joncronshawauthor

Instagram. @joncronshawauthor

Patreon. patreon.com/joncronshawauthor

Twitter.  @jlcronshaw

Website. joncronshaw.com

If you want to help the show, please consider telling a friend or leaving a review wherever you download your podcasts.

The Lazarus Curse – a dark fantasy story

by Jon Cronshaw

Jacob sits on a throne of shattered bones. His shroud hangs black and red, hooded and flowing. A single gas lamp flickers behind him, casting shadows of dancing bones along the abandoned station walls. An empty beer can rolls from the platform’s edge and clatters against the tracks. His court of rats scatter.
“Angelus.” He holds out a pewter cup for Angelus to pours his wine and runs a curled finger through his long red hair. “Israel has betrayed me for the last time.”
Angelus sighs. “You betray each other. You are both driven by a lust for power.”
Jacob sips the wine, considers Angelus’s words, and places the cup on the arm of the throne. “I am the one.” Turning to Angelus, he narrows his eyes . “I have many followers. It is only a matter of time.”
“You both have many followers. You are moving towards a war that Lazarus will not tolerate.”
Jacob closes his eyes and steeples his fingers. “Israel’s wings need to be clipped. Lazarus must know that only I can lead.”
Angelus offers him another sigh and pours more wine.
“Do not sigh at me, Angelus. Say what is on your mind.”
“You’re the same. You and Israel are two pieces of the same puzzle.”
“We are not the same,” Jacob spits, slamming a fist down, bones splintering against his strength.
“You will only end each other.”
Jacob stares ahead and crushes the cup in his hand, feeling the metal bend to his will. He goes to stand.
“What is it?”
Jacob gasps. “I have been summoned.”
Jacob waits in silence, eyes downcast. He is on his knees, his nose touching the tiled floor. Unable to move, he listens to the scratchy rasp of Lazarus’s breath surrounding him.
Israel appears to Jacob’s left. They both bow and wait, no words, no greetings.
“We exist when we understand that we are one,” Lazarus says. Each word is clipped, stifled, pained, each vowel like shifting soil, each consonant like scraping stones. “Your pettiness has worn my patience to a gossamer thread.”
Jacob tries to wriggle, to squirm, to run, but he is paralysed, held fast by Lazarus’s will.
“We are one. We are dependant.” Lazarus spits the last word, punctuating each syllable with a click of his skeletal fingers. “It is time for your fable, time for your lesson.”
Cold fire engulfs Jacob’s body. His flesh quivers and curls as the flames bury into his being, tearing at his the last threads of his soul.
Then, the pain ceases.
“Jacob. Israel. You are cursed to end. You will expire if you do not feed on each other. You must learn the value of our brood.”
The smell of refuse and insects drifts by. Bones splinter between Jacob’s fingers when he grips the arms of his throne. “We are going to war. We cannot live together like mutually-dependent parasites.”
Angelus frowns. “If Lazarus’s curse is what you say, then you will both end. Your talk of war and conquest will be for nought.”
“Lazarus.” Jacob spits out the word. Something nudges him at the back of his mind, a pull towards his brother. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His expression softens as he looks up at Angelus. “No one tastes sweeter than you.”
A sudden urge grips him. He lurches forward, takes Angelus by the wrist, sinks his teeth into his flesh, and feeds. “What is this?” he growls, choking on the blood. He jerks away and drops Angelus’s arm as trails of blood extend along the platform, pooling near the edge.
“What is it?”
“I…” Jacob rests his head in his hands. “Your blood is wrong,” He shoots to his feet. “I have to find Israel.”

Maggots swarm at the throne’s base while Israel’s flesh teems with buzzing flies. Drained and rotting corpses lie around his throne. Human skin stretches across its back and sides, dried pinks and browns twisted in strands that bow and stretch with Israel’s every movement. A fluorescent light tube flickers in the tunnel leading to the platform, casting a cold blue light over the scattered dead.
Jacob stands before Israel, his arms outstretched, his wrists gaping and dripping with blood. “Brother, Lazarus’s curse is our only enemy now. I offer a truce between us. Let there be no blood spilled, save for our mutual feeding.”
The throne creaks as Israel sits back. A cloud of flies darts this way and that, eddying in a macabre waltz. He hold’s Jacob’s gaze with an icy glare. “Agreed. Mark my words, Jacob, there will be a truce, but only until this curse is lifted.”
“As you say, brother.” Jacob bows his head in assent.
Silence hangs between them like a shroud. After a long moment, Israel stands, tears at his right wrist with his teeth, and offers it to Jacob. “Together.”
“Together.”
They lean down to each other’s gaping wounds and feed, sucking the blood with silent gulps as the flies hum around them.
“You taste…” they both say, their words trailing off as the faint hint of a smile creeps along their faces.
Jacob stirs when Israel crawls into his bed. The flies hover outside the chamber, waiting with the rats. “Send your thrall away,” Israel says, pushing Angelus aside with a shove.
“He is no thrall.” He makes no further protest when Angelus skulks away.
They bite into each other’s wrists again and feed.
“I hate this,” they say.
Jacob and Israel meet on neutral ground, a tunnel used by rats as a graveyard. Rodent corpses carpet the ground, some still bloated and crawling with maggots, others no more than dusty husks. Bones shatter beneath their feet as they walk. They take a moment to feed on each other and then stand back-to-back.
“We must fight this curse, brother,” says Jacob.
Israel says nothing.
“We should test the curse.”
Israel turns to him and meets his gaze in the gloom. A rat enters the tunnel along the track opposite Jacob. It stands on its hind legs, sniffs the air, locks eyes with Jacob, turns, and scurries away.
“Well?” Jacob asks.
“Well, what?”
“Well?”
“Do you have a plan?”
Jacob nods.
The air changes when Angelus nails down the final sheet of thick wood. Gone are the ebbs and flows of rushing air that mark the rhythm of the underground trains. All around is dry and still.
Jacob curls into a tight ball and feels Angelus return to his bed.
“Do you wish to feed?”
Jacob gives a weak nod and Angelus offers his wrists. Leaning forward, he tries to feed. He pushes down the urge to gag, to vomit. He turns away at Angelus’s hurt expression. “I…it will pass.”
Angelus says nothing.
The pull to Israel becomes an obsession, a twitching, a yearning twisting at every facet of Jacob’s mind.
“Jacob?” Angelus whispers.
“What is it?” Jacob’s hands and feet are heavy and stiff. He looks down to see they have turned to granite. “Summon Israel. Now!”
Israel’s arms and feet are the same bluish-green stone as Jacob’s when he arrives, limping. The flies avoid his hands. “Send away your thrall.”
“Go,” whispers Jacob.
Angelus leaves.
Weak and gasping, the pair finds flesh halfway up each other’s right arm and feed.
An iridescent glow surrounds them for a brief moment, and they find themselves bowing before Lazarus, their noses pressed against the floor and their stone arms anchored to the tiled floor as if bound by chains.
Lazarus lets out a rattling, wheezing laugh. “You dared to defy me? You thought you could lift the curse?”
“No.”
Lazarus clicks his fingers. “You were supposed to learn a lesson, but instead you worked against me.”
“No!”
“Do not lie to me. You instructed your thralls to keep you apart. And now you are here.”
A luminous green light pulses around them and starvation floors the brothers. Pain tears through their insides, a boiling, searing pain that writhes and contorts from within. Their screams do not leave their mouths, cannot.
All Jacob and Israel can do is feed. Jacob calls to Angelus for wine, but before he can utter a single word, the petrification returns and spreads across his limbs like setting ice.
“I hate this,” says Jacob, his voice muffled as he feeds.
Israel agrees, mumbling though Jacob’s armpit.
“We should end.”
“Yes.” Israel stops feeding for a brief moment. “We should end Lazarus.”
With their bodies half-petrified, Jacob and Israel summon their minions. Stone crackles along their skin as they move from feeding to giving short blasts of orders.
Jacob leans up and eyes his lieutenants. “We are in alliance…” A tendril of stone crawls along his thigh, twisting like ivy, and stops only when he returns to feed. “You must end Lazarus.”
Israel repeats the words to his own lieutenants and returns to feeding.
Jacob lifts his head weakly. “Take us to him.”
An army of rats and flies carry Jacob and Israel to Lazarus as the battle rages. Flames and arrows fly in all directions, arcing in and out of time, extinguishing everything.
The minions fall by the thousands as Jacob and Israel crawl towards Lazarus, their knees and elbows scraping, stone against stone. All the while, they still feed.
“What is the meaning of this?” Lazarus gasps, his flailing arms rendering him powerless.
Jacob and Israel drag themselves forward and separate. They lunge at Lazarus with a deafening scream and sink their teeth into his arms.
Lazarus writhes as they feed. They pull on his centre, tear at him, his bones bending and splitting. Their arms and legs turn soft, fleshy and bony, the stone retreating along their bodies like the first thaws of spring.
“Fools! You may end me, but I will make the curse stronger.”
A brilliant burst of black light emanates from Lazarus, filling the chamber with the screams of a billion holocausts. The walls around them shatter and crumble. Lazarus falls to dust as a beam of sunlight penetrates from above.
Jacob and Israel share a smile as a gust of air blows Lazarus away in a cloud of ash. “We are victorious. And now the curse is lifted.”
They look around at the scattered corpses of their armies, their crumbling empire, and the swarming flies and rats returning to their masters and share another smile. Jacob looks down at his hand and offers it to his brother. Israel’s smile falls away.
“What is it?” Before Israel can answer, Jacob’s eyes widen at the petrification spreading along his body.
“The curse.” Israel raises his stone hands.
Their bodies stiffen as the petrification moves up past their thighs.
A grim smile passes over Israel’s lips. “I fear this will not end us. We will be trapped in stone for— “ His words stop as his jaw becomes granite.
Jacob nods. “Angelus. Take us to the light. End us, before it is too late.”
Angelus crawls over to his master, his lover, his body wrecked with contusions and fractured bones. “As you wish.”
Jacob’s body stiffens as the petrification continues up his spine, engulfing his ribs and twisting his shoulders. Angelus drags Jacob and Israel towards the sunlight, towards their end.
The flies retreat and the rats scatter.
As they reach the light, they remain trapped in stone.

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Clockwork Titan – a fantasy short story

by Jon Cronshaw

The ancient titan stood in silence, facing the Braun Sea, its shadow etched against the passing glow of Nebel Hafen’s lighthouse. Heinrich Graf strode towards the statue, his head craned back as he gazed up at the steel limbs and clockwork joints. Tiny alchemical lanterns lined the path towards the titan, curving in a gentle swoop across the Meerand Gardens. Heinrich glanced to the side as clouds eddied across the moon.
Heinrich stood before the ravenglass plinth as a hand-sized black wyvern landed on top of the titan’s foot and stretched out its wings. “Waage,” Heinrich said. “Where have you been?”
The wyvern surveyed her surroundings, black eyes glimmering against the lanterns. “Lord Graf, forgive me,” she said, turning to him. “Do you have what I asked for?”
“Are you sure this will work?”
Waage hopped down to the plinth, folding in her wings. “I am confident, my lord.”
Heinrich leaned back, his gaze shifting towards the titan’s mechanical head, its stern brow fixed. “Are you sure we can control this thing?”
“The archives were very specific.”
Stepping back, Heinrich reached into his overcoat and carefully removed two balls of cloth.
“Well, unravel them, then,” Waage snapped.
Heinrich’s eyes narrowed as he unwrapped the cloths, revealing a pair of black orbs. “They’re lighter than they look,” he said, offering them to Waage.
“They are pure ravenglass?” she asked, examining the orbs.
“I…They drink in the light.” He gestured to one of them. “Look how it seems to glow with black.”
The edges of Waage’s lips curled back in what might have been a smile. “Excellent.” She grasped the orb in her mouth, threw her head back, and swallowed.
“What are you doing?”
Waage made for the second orb, but Heinrich snatched it away, bringing it to his chest.
“Answer me, wyvern.”
“I need to carry the orbs, my lord,” she said, dipping her head. A shudder spread across her spine as she coughed up the orb, letting it roll along the ground, sending with it a trail a black saliva. “If we are to do this—”
“Yes, yes,” Heinrich growled, waving a hand. “It’s just…” He shook his head. “We have spent so long—”
“You can trust me, my lord. I want to see you rise to power just as much as you do.”
Heinrich stared down at Waage’s slumped body, her wings spread out from her sides in a submissive gesture. “Of course.” He raised his chin. “Forgive my trepidation. Please, continue.”
Waage bolted forward, her jaws snapping closed over the first orb. Swallowing, she looked up expectantly.
With a slight nod, Heinrich let the second orb roll from his palm and into the wyvern’s mouth. She swallowed, eyes twinkling as she stretched out her wings, black and leathery, flapping them until she rose from the ground, disappearing into the darkness.
“Good luck,” Heinrich muttered. He paced and squinted up at the titan’s head. Waage’s shadow passed as the lighthouse’s alchemical glow flickered by. He rubbed his beard, hands trembling. “Gods be damned.”
After several moments, Waage returned, landing on the titan’s foot.
“Well?” Heinrich asked.
“I placed the orbs.”
“And?”
“My lord, they are ravenglass.”
Heinrich frowned. “Do not talk in riddles, wyvern.”
Waage bowed, flattening her wings. “Ravenglass requires the blood of its creator.”
“How am I supposed to do that?”
“My lord, I require your blood.” Waage looked up with one eye open, her wings still flat.
Heinrich let out an incredulous snort.
“My lord, it is—”
“Wyvern, do not deceive me,” he snapped, raising a hand. “Return the orbs and I will let the blood myself, and then you can return them to their place.”
“Please understand, once enchanted, the orbs will be hotter than a thousand fires. I will not be able to carry them.”
Heinrich held her gaze for a long moment then sighed. “Do it.” Holding out his wrist, he squeezed his eyes shut, clenching his jaw as Waage drove her teeth into his flesh, swallowing his blood, lapping around the wound. “How much do you need?”
Waage did not respond, but kept drinking.
Groaning, Heinrich flicked his wrist and brought his arm up to his mouth, blood streaming from the tiny puncture wound.
With slow steps, Waage unfurled her wings and rose into the darkness.
Heinrich watched, the blood-flow slowing around his wound. He staggered back as the titan’s eyes glowed dull red.
Waage landed on his right shoulder, her claws sharp but delicate. They stared up as the titan’s gears started to turn.
Unable to sleep, Anna Halter gazed across the Braun Sea as the second sun emerged, red and dreamlike. She leaned on her folded arms, idly stroking the mane of a carved unicorn figurine, her fingernails tracing the etched lines that suggested hair. The light from her father’s lighthouse swept across the coastline, the palace shimmering white and green, the giant standing sentry, the harbour’s taverns and shops, the moored ships, and the chain stretching across the bay.
She followed the sweep of the light again, her gaze lingering on the giant. Blinking, she leaned forward, mouth falling open. The giant’s eyes glowed bright yellow. She blinked again, rubbing her eyes.
Pulling the window open, she shivered against the chill breeze, staring at the giant. She waved and the giant’s arm waved back.
Slamming the window shut, she ducked beneath the sill with her back against the wall, as deep, shuddering breaths erupted from her body. She closed her eyes, shaking her head, and peeped back over the ledge.
The giant’s eyes still burned bright and brilliant. She waved her hand again, her arms and legs tingling when the giant moved.
She dropped down to the floor and bit her bottom lip. Grabbing her unicorn, she got up and ran over to the door, taking the spiral stairs up a level, and banged on her father’s door. “Father,” she called, reaching up and rattling the door’s handle. “Wake up.”
Restless grunts came from the other side of the door.
The lock clicked and her father leaned out, led by the spluttering light of a tallow candle, its smoke smelling of cooked pork. “Anna,” he sighed. “Why do you never sleep, child?”
Anna looked down at her unicorn then up at her father, his blond moustache drooping past his lips. “The giant waved at me.”
He shook his head. “Anna, please. Go to sleep.”
“It’s true. It waved at me.”
Looking behind him, he crouched to one knee and reached out to stroke her hair. “I know things have been difficult since your mother died.”
She pulled her unicorn close to her chest. “It’s real.”
He raised a finger, pressing it against her lips. “Shh,” he said. “It was a dream, or it was in your mind.”
Anna looked down at her unicorn and shook her head. “I can show you.”
Yawning, her father ambled back into his chamber and shifted the drapes away from the window. “The first sun is rising soon,” he sighed. “Show me what you must.”
With tiny footsteps, Anna walked to the window, standing on her tiptoes as she pointed towards the giant. “Look. You can see its eyes glow.”
He leaned over her, gazing through the glass for a short moment before turning back inside. “It is but a trick of the light. Perhaps a reflection of the second sun, or the light of the lighthouse.”
“But it waved, father. Look.” She waved her hand, grinning as the giant returned her gesture. “See?” She turned to her father arranging his day clothes on the bed.
“Anna,” he sighed. “Please get ready for the day. I will make us breakfast.”
“But, father—”
“But, nothing,” he snapped.
Anna flinched, staggering back as she pulled her unicorn close, tears welling in her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice softening. He crossed the room and kissed the top of her head.
Heinrich paced before the plinth, rubbing the back of his neck, squinting up at the titan’s glowing eyes. He turned to Waage, a deep line creasing his brow. “I had no part in that.”
Waage swooped in rising circles around the titan before diving towards Heinrich, squawking.
Staggering backwards, Heinrich flapped his hands wildly. “What are you doing?”
“It extended its arm thrice—do not lie to me.” Waage hovered in the air a few feet above him, her wings beating down, slow, bat-like.
The wyvern pecked at his hair. “I warn you. Do not lie to me, my lord. I have your blood in my bones. I can control you if you are lying.”
“Treacherous wyvern,” Heinrich spat. “Why did I trust you?” A quivering passed over his body as the wyvern tugged at his mind, bending his will, twisting his thoughts. “What…are…you…?”
“You are linked and you lie.”
“There is no link,” Heinrich said, shrinking back. He stumbled on an alchemical lantern, the tiny ball shattering into smoke. “I have no control over that thing.” He fell to the ground, head smacking against stone.
Waage looked up at the titan and stopped. “You are not linked. I misjudged you. Forgive me, my lord.” She tilted her head. “But there is a link to someone.”
Eyes widening, Heinrich shifted away from the wyvern, his arms out in front of him. “I promise you, there is no link.”
“Look,” she said, pointing a scaled wing towards the lighthouse.
Heinrich followed her gaze, shaking his head. “I see nothing.”
“Of course,” the wyvern mused. “You do not perceive enchantment as I.” She hopped down to Heinrich’s side, flattening her wings against the ground, her head held low. “The thread extends towards the lighthouse.”
“Do not speak in riddles, wyvern. Say your words.”
“My lord, I feel the titan has latched onto another host, like a duckling latching to the first thing it perceives.”
“But a lighthouse? How can that be? How can a lighthouse exert control? It has no will.”
Waage raised her head and met Heinrich’s gaze. “We must seek the keeper of the lighthouse.”
Anna ran her finger along the unicorn’s mane in an absent motion. She stared at nothing as her father stood over the cooking pot, stirring porridge, flames dancing around its base, sending flickering shadows along the stone walls. Pans hung around him and a sack of turnips sagged half-open at his feet. “Things will get easier, Anna,” he said, looking back at her, his feet shuffling. “These past months have been difficult—for both of us. I am sorry that I haven’t been as close to you as I should.”
“You have the lighthouse, father.” She looked to the window as the first sun soaked the Braun Sea in its yellow glow, its light filling the sky, washing out the second sun’s gloomy brown.
He raised a wooden spoon to his mouth, tasting the porridge.
Anna moved over to the window, gazing across the sea towards the giant, its eyes still fiery, even against the first sun’s burgeoning light. A warmth pushed against the top of her head, pressing down like a hand. It sunk into her, filling her, spreading through her—a tingling, electric sensation passing across her skin, stiffening the tiny hairs on her neck.
Her father’s words came out as an echo, distant.
For a moment, she looked down at a tiny cowering man. A wyvern flapped around her and pecked at her eyes. She stepped forward, her head turning with a slow metallic screech.
She jerked back, tumbling to the floor.
“Anna,” her father said, standing over her. “Anna?”
“Father…I…” She glanced at the window.
He took her by the hand and led her back to her wooden stool, smoothed by time. “This is why you should sleep more,” he said, shaking his head. “Here.” He handed her a clay cup of watered-down ale.
“I…I’m…” She rubbed her head.
“You do not have to eat now. Perhaps you should return to bed. Close your drapes. I will keep the porridge warm and stirred.”
Anna rose to her feet and let out a deep breath. “Yes, father.” She walked over to the door, avoiding the window.
“Your toy,” he said, gesturing to the unicorn.
“Thank you.” She took it and shouldered her way through the doors and up the spiral stairs. With a sigh, she stumbled into her bed chamber.
She dragged a leather shoulder bag from between her bed and side table and tipped its contents onto her blankets.
Turning, she glanced over to the window. A twitching sensation travelled along her arms and legs, running up her spine, the pressing, tingling warmth settling around her forehead. She shook her head as if freeing herself from a spider’s web, and reached for her tabard and leggings, pulling them on before stuffing her unicorn into the bag.
The giant called to her.
Breathing heavily, Anna ran down the stairs, bolting through the door before her father noticed.
A gust of wind from the east struck her, blowing hair across her face. She ran along the cliff’s path, winding down towards the harbour, thick clumps of grass making way for barnacle-coated rocks, their sides slick with seaweed. Foamy waves brushed against the sea wall as tall ships rocked in time with the tides.
Reaching the harbour, she skipped over an iron mooring, ducking past the shopkeepers and innkeepers opening their shutters for the day, and avoided the sailors staggering out of brothels.
The warmth around her head increased, surrounding her with a low, insistent hum. She saw herself from across the harbour, a tiny red-headed girl running through the crowds.
“There,” Waage snapped as the titan’s foot rose and fell, crashing to the ground, freeing itself from the plinth. “It is moving.”
Wide-eyed, on his back, and frozen in place, Heinrich stared up at the titan, his elbows poking into the soil. “I can see it moves,” he managed through gritted teeth.
“Not the titan,” she said, gesturing with her nose towards the harbour. “The enchantment. It moves.” Waage beat her wings, rising into the air.
“What do you see?” Heinrich asked, wobbling to his feet, dirt cascading from his overcoat.
“People are coming. Hundreds of them.”
“Gods be damned. We should leave before questions are asked.”
Waage swooped down, landing on Heinrich’s shoulder. “My lord,” she whispered as the first few men and women entered the gardens, their eyes cast up in wonderment. “Being here will only increase your status in the eyes of Nebel Hafen’s citizens.”
“And what of Count Schultz?”
The wyvern stretched out her wings, raising her chin. “What of him? Only last night—” Waage’s words stopped abruptly.
“Well?”
The titan’s head turned and the crowd gasped. Waage rose into the air, circling above Heinrich. “I see the source of the link.”
Heinrich’s fists clenched. “Show me.”
“You see that little girl with the red hair?”
Anna’s focus drifted from the giant to the flickering wings of a black-scaled wyvern. She tilted her head as the creature stared at her with its deep black eyes, its wings holding it in midair like a marionette.
“The statue has come to life,” a thin man with bright green eyes said, smiling at her. “Let it rise and protect our shores from the Ostreich invaders.”
Reaching into her bag with trembling hands, Anna retrieved her unicorn, holding it close as she made her way through the crowd. She looked between the giant and the wyvern, her teeth biting into her bottom lip, breaking through the skin. The taste of blood filled her mouth.
“What is she carrying?” Heinrich asked, watching the girl as she approached the titan.
“It is inert,” Waage said.
“I will take it.”
“You would take a child’s toy in front of all these people?”
Heinrich tugged at his beard. “I am at an end, wyvern.”
“Perhaps we could take her to your manor, imprison her, and force her to command the titan to your will.”
“You vile, wicked creature.” Heinrich raised a hand to the wyvern. “Wait,” he said, hand dropping. “Take her blood. Control her with your enchantment.”
The wyvern landed on Heinrich’s shoulder, and brushed against his ear. “I can do that. She already has blood at her mouth.”
Anna stopped at the giant’s feet, placing a hand on the front of its big toe. “Hello,” she whispered as floods of warmth washed over her body.
With creaking joints, the giant leaned forward. The crowd jerked back. Some people ran away, while others stared, petrified.
Anna dropped her hand as the black-winged wyvern darted towards her, diving through the air, its wings swept back. She swung the unicorn, missing the wyvern as it tried to land on her head. Brushing it away, she cowered behind the giant’s foot.
She covered her ears, cringing at the wyvern’s squawks and screeches. The creature spiralled into the air and flew at Anna again. This time she crouched low, thrusting the unicorn around her in broad circles, missing the wyvern as it dodged and weaved her attempted strikes. “Leave me alone,” she cried. “Please.”
The sound of tearing metal echoed around her as the giant pivoted on its feet, swung a fist, and connected with the wyvern.
Anna cringed as the wyvern shot across the gardens, rolling into a crumpled, trembling heap in the dirt.
When the hand rested in front of her, she climbed onto its palm, hugging the little finger as the giant lifted her from the ground, raising her to its right shoulder.
Her breath caught in her throat when she looked down at the tiny faces staring up at her as a gust of wind tussled her hair and blew across her skin. She gazed across the rooftops, mouth agape, eyes lingering on her lighthouse across the harbour.
The giant stepped to the right and into the sea, waves crashing against its knees. Anna gripped the giant’s neck as it swayed with each step, seagulls circling around them as the lighthouse grew closer. She held her breath, trembling as she swept her eyes across the bay, taking in the boats and buildings, the shimmering stones of the palace, the crowds gathered on the lawn of Meerand Gardens watching in awe, a smile reaching her eyes. She threw her head back, loosening her grip. “This is glorious,” she cried.
Heinrich moved through the crowd, Waage perched on his shoulder. “Where am I going? This is not my will.”
“Your will is my will, my lord.”
“No, wyvern. You said—” His arms flailed uselessly as he stumbled onto the harbour wall, legs moving without consent, shins and toes stubbing against carts and walls.
“Enough,” Waage snapped. “I have a plan, but I am weakened.”
Sailors regarded him with confused expressions as he moved in fits and starts, feet jerking with each step. A woman selling shellfish jumped backwards, dodging his erratic movements. “Where are you leading me?” he groaned.
“To the lighthouse. That girl is the keeper’s daughter. We must use that knowledge to our advantage.”
Heinrich lurched forward as if being yanked by a rope, toes stubbing against the emerging rocks. “Wyvern, give me my will.”
“We must take that girl.”
“I will come voluntarily,” Heinrich pleaded. “You are hurting my feet and legs, and my shins are bruised and bloody.” He staggered forward, rolling to the ground as the wyvern released the enchantment. “Gahh! You wicked, deceitful creature. I should—” His words stopped, his mouth slamming tight. He mumbled inaudible curses as he clawed at his mouth, trying to pry it open.
“Voluntarily?” the wyvern asked, voice tinged with irony. “You must promise me that you will not try to hurt me.”
Heinrich nodded then gasped as his mouth unsealed. “Vile creature,” he spat.
“Keep your words. We have work to do.” She gestured to the titan striding across the bay, the waves crashing up to its waist. “It appears the girl is taking the titan home. I would like us to be there to greet them.”
Heinrich rose to his feet and brushed his overcoat down. “Why did I let you talk me into this?”
The wyvern marched ahead on spindly legs, following the curve of the rocks towards the lighthouse.
When they arrived, Heinrich rapped on the door with a fist, watching the titan’s approach.
“Yes?” A man with a drooping blond moustache leaned from the door.
“Let us inside. I must speak with you as a matter of urgency.”
The man glanced towards the wyvern and back to Heinrich, a frown knitting his brow. “I am very busy. We have nothing to discuss.”
“Do you know who I am?” Heinrich spat.
“Why, of course. Lord…I’m sorry. You’re the count’s nephew.”
“I am Lord Heinrich Graf.” He raised his chin. “And you are?”
“I am Karl Halter, keeper of the Nebel Hafen lighthouse.”
“You have a daughter?”
Karl’s eyes narrowed. “What is this about?”
“Your daughter has taken something that belongs to me, something very important.” Heinrich cleared his throat.
“My daughter is in her chamber.” Karl brushed his fingers along his moustache, shifting his gaze down to the wyvern. “I’m sorry. I must wish you a good day.”
Heinrich wedged his boot between the door and its frame when Karl tried to close it.
“What is the meaning of this?”
“I am Lord Heinrich Graf—”
“And you have no domain over this lighthouse.” Karl held Heinrich’s gaze, his face growing red. “What is it you believe my daughter has taken?”
“That,” Waage said, pointing to the titan with an outstretched wing.
Anna clung tight as the giant stepped from the sea and onto the rocks, its feet dripping with water and seaweed. Circling gulls called out with desperate squawks.
“There,” she said, pointing to the lighthouse. “You must meet my father.”
The giant followed the path to the lighthouse and Anna froze. “It’s that man,” she said. “And his wyvern.”
Creaking, the giant’s hand rose to its shoulder and waited as Anna clambered on. She laid low, spreading out on all fours as the giant crouched, lowering her to the ground. “Father,” she called, running towards him. “I have a new friend.” She came to an abrupt halt at the sight of the man with the wyvern, breath catching in her chest.
Heinrich grabbed Karl’s throat and thrust him head-first onto the ground.
“What—” Karl gasped.
Placing a boot on Karl’s back, Heinrich folded his arms and smiled at the girl’s approach. “Little girl, we meet again. I trust you remember my wyvern?”
“What are you doing to my father?”
“Anna, run,” Karl called.
“You had no right to take our titan,” the wyvern said. “We slaved over research and sourcing ravenglass, only for you to steal it from us like some common thief.”
Anna glanced behind her and cradled her unicorn. “It chose me. I did nothing.”
Waage hopped onto Karl’s back and frowned at Anna. “Perhaps you need—”
“Waage, Waage,” Heinrich said, his voice softening. “The girl wasn’t to know of our plans.” He turned to Anna. “Were you, Anna?”
“The giant saw me and talked to my mind.”
Heinrich smiled. “You see? All this can be resolved.”
“What do you want?”
“I want to command the titan.”
“I don’t know how it works.”
“You brought it here. All I ask is that you control it on my behalf and…” His voice trailed off and he shrugged. “I suppose I won’t kill your father.”
Anna stared up at Heinrich, wide-eyed. “What should I ask of the giant?”
A broad grin spreads across Heinrich’s face like oil on velvet. “My dear, it is very simple. I need the giant to retrieve Count Schultz from his palace and drop him into the sea, beyond the chains.”
A sharp breath caught in Anna’s throat. “But he will surely drown.”
“Indeed. But I must rule.”
“Anna, don’t,” Karl managed before Heinrich booted him in the side.
“What will it be? Help me or watch as I disembowel your father?”
Anna turned and walked to the giant’s feet, placing a hand against the warm metal.
“Do not agree to this man’s requests,” her father called through gritted teeth. “He is not to be trusted.”
“Father, please. I…I cannot be alone.”
“Where is your mother?” the lord asked. “Perhaps we could speak to her too.”
Anna’s bottom lip trembled. “She has passed on. All I have is my father.” She blinked away a tear.
A mirthless smile curled across the lord’s lips. “You see, Anna? Listen to what your heart is telling you. You do not want to see your father die. How could you live with yourself when you knew you could prevent it? Do you know what happens to orphans?”
A long silence hung in the air before she spoke. “I will assist you,” she said, finally. “But you must release my father.”
“I am a man of my word. If you help me, you will be lavished with gifts and you and your father will want for nought.”
She swallowed and dipped her head. “I agree.”
“Anna, what are you doing?” her father groaned.
Crouching at his side, she placed a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t want you to die.”
“There, there,” the lord said. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”
The giant bent to one knee and rested the back of a hand on the ground. “You should climb on,” Anna suggested, rising to her feet. “It will take you across the bay to the palace.”
The lord glanced at the wyvern. “I’m not so sure—”
“I did it,” Anna said, interrupting. “It was…it was amazing.”
“You’re not afraid are you, my lord?” the wyvern said.
The lord pursed his lips and raised his chin. “I have no fear. This is the day I go down in history.” He clambered onto the giant’s hand and gestured to the wyvern. “Are you coming?”
Anna’s father sat up, rubbing his jaw. “Anna, what are you thinking?”
“I’m doing as the lord asked. I didn’t want to see you hurt, father.”
The wyvern swept its gaze across the sea and waddled with the lord towards the giant’s hand.
“Command this titan,” the lord said. “Take me to the palace.”
Anna licked her lips, pulling her unicorn towards her, knuckles turning pale. She reached out for her father’s hand, watching as the giant lifted the lord to its shoulder. Her father got to his feet, standing at her side, staring at the giant, shaking his head.
The warmth filled her mind and she saw herself through the giant’s eyes.
“This is really quite high up,” Heinrich said, clinging to the titan’s neck. He called out a curse as the titan turned and stepped into the sea. “Gods be damned. We are going to fall.”
“Just hold on,” Waage said. “We will be at the palace before you know it.”
Heinrich let out a deep breath. “It really is high. Very, very high.”
The titan waded through the water, the waves sloshing against its knees.
“This swaying is making me feel woozy.”
“I hope she adjusts the course, we seem to be veering away from the palace.”
“I’m sorry I lied to you, father.”
“You know to tell me if you plan to leave the lighthouse. I thought you were still home.”
“My thoughts were not quite my own.” She glanced up at him and smiled. “You are safe now.”
He tugged at his moustache. “I’m afraid this is only the beginning. Lord Graf is a man who craves power above everything. With that monstrosity at his command and that wyvern whispering in his ear…” He shook his head. “I fear for our future.”
Waves crashed against the titan’s shoulders, sending jets of foam across Heinrich’s feet. “Turn, you foul thing. You’re going the wrong way.”
Waage swung her head around and gestured to shore. “We should make for the harbour.”
“We are too far away. We will both drown.”
Waage stretched out her wings, testing them. “I can glide.” She leaped from Heinrich’s shoulder, catching an updraft and shooting into the air.
“You cursed, retched thing. Come back.” Heinrich scrambled onto the titan’s mouth, clambering up its face as the water rose around him.
He climbed to the top of its head, sobbing as the waves washed over his legs and arms and chest, throwing him beneath the surface and deep beneath the sea.
Waage shuddered when the enchantment between herself and Heinrich snapped. “Cursed imbecile,” she muttered.
Turning in a slow loop, she scanned across the Braun Sea, bubbles marking the titan’s descent.

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