Category: Original Fiction

Blade of Wolfsbane audiobook is now free on YouTube!

Embark on an epic journey with ‘Blades of Wolfsbane,’ a high-stakes prequel to Jon Cronshaw’s Ravenglass Legends. Dive into a world of honor, secret fighting styles, and family legacies, now available as a free audiobook.

Welcome to the immersive world of Blade of Wolfsbane, a high fantasy novella prequel to Jon Cronshaw’s Ravenglass Legends.

This captivating tale, now available as a free full audiobook, is an unforgettable journey into a vibrant universe filled with courageous heroes and electrifying sword fights.

In the heart of the story, we meet Ragnar—a chieftain’s son yearning for his father’s respect. Secretly honing an unorthodox fighting style, he grapples with a choice: reveal his prowess in the imminent boys’ tournament and risk family disgrace, or submit to defeat. This epic tournament, a secret to safeguard, and a legacy at stake, sets the stage for a story that will ensnare your imagination.

Fans of rich world-building and high-stakes fantasy will feel right at home in the expansive Ravenglass Universe.

Embark on Ragnar’s epic journey today. Dive into the world of chieftains, warriors, and ancient traditions. Experience the thrill of the tournament, the weight of a secret, and the struggle for respect.

Don’t miss out on this exciting journey! Listen to the full audiobook of Blades of Wolfsbane for free right here on YouTube.

Remember to like, share, and subscribe for more immersive audiobooks. Enjoy the adventure!

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The Addict of the Wasteland audiobook is now free on YouTube!

In a land devastated by apocalypse, an addict struggles to survive, propelled by his relentless need for the next fix.

Welcome to the official audio novella of Addict of the Wasteland—a journey through a desolate world that tests the limits of hope and redemption.

In a land devastated by apocalypse, an addict struggles to survive, propelled by his relentless need for the next fix.

But when he stumbles upon a unique settlement, he’s offered an unexpected chance: the prospect of reclaiming his life.

Prepare yourself for a gripping post-apocalyptic tale that’s as harrowing as it is transformative.

Hit Play to step into a world of impossible choices and dubious salvation.

But remember—even amidst ruin, there’s always a glimmer of hope.

 Subscribe now to experience a twisted future you won’t forget.

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The complete Blind Gambit audiobook is now free on YouTube!

Dive into the engaging GameLit novel, “Blind Gambit,” where our unlikely hero, Brian, is the game’s only hope…even though he’s the worst player.

Welcome to the near future, where the B-chip allows the visually impaired to see in virtual worlds.

Dive into the engaging GameLit novel, Blind Gambit, where our unlikely hero, Brian, is the game’s only hope…even though he’s the worst player.

In this immersive coming-of-age story, Brian’s life only truly begins within the confines of the game, Gambit. But when a malevolent hacker seeks to destroy this last sanctuary, Brian becomes the only player immune to the digital onslaught. Yet, immunity isn’t enough to save Gambit.

Brian must embark on an epic journey to level-up, embrace new skills, and craft mighty weapons. With the help of friends and rivals, he strives to identify and defeat the unseen enemy before it’s too late. But how will Brian confront his disability in reality after experiencing a world where sight is no longer a concern?

Blind Gambit is not just a story about games. It’s a tale of resilience, friendship, and confronting one’s limitations. Written by a visually impaired author, this book offers an authentic and unique perspective on disability, filled with geeky references and thrilling action.

Step into this riveting action-adventure now for FREE! Experience the world of Gambit through Brian’s eyes and join him in his quest to save the game he loves.

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Paperback and Kindle editions available now.

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Mushrooms – a short story

 I explained I was trying to get to the Mushroom Kingdom, that Princess Toadstool had been kidnapped. The fire fighter laughed and told me the princess was in another castle. I didn’t see any castles.

I made the decision to move to Brooklyn and train as a plumber as soon as the divorce came through. The high carbohydrate diet of pastas and pizzas didn’t rest well with me thanks to a gluten intolerance.

An old history teacher once told me that intolerance is synonymous with racism, so I pushed against my nature and fought off the spectre of prejudice by consuming vast quantities of wheat-based dishes.

When not gripping the sides of my toilet seat between meals, I ventured out onto the New York streets. I head-butted stones above me in the hope of obtaining wealth or discovering a magical beanstalk.

After several concussions, I became keenly aware of the limitations of the American healthcare system and craved to spend just one night lying on a trolley in a corridor until a bed could be found for me in an NHS hospital.

I ate a red-and-white mushroom hoping it would make me grow to twice my usual size. The man who sold it to me said there was nothing else like it.

I may have grown. I may have gained the ability to break stones with my head and survive a tortoise bite, though I can’t be sure. Instead,

I was exposed again to the limitations of the American healthcare system and a curious stream of horrific waking dreams that haunt me to this day.

A fire fighter dragged me from a sewer pipe. I’d been stuck in there for a few days, but a homeless man raised the alarm.

 I explained I was trying to get to the Mushroom Kingdom, that Princess Toadstool had been kidnapped. The fire fighter laughed and told me the princess was in another castle. I didn’t see any castles.

He must have been working for Bowser.

It was the incident in the pet shop that led to my arrest. After jumping on three tortoises in an effort to eject them from their shells, a police officer yanked my right arm behind my back while his partner pointed a pistol at me – an actual pistol.

I told them there might have been a 1-UP or a starman. I could have been invulnerable. I could have lived again.

The officers asked my name, and I told them I was Super Mario. I told them Princess Toadstool was in danger and that they needed to release me so I could get to the Mushroom Kingdom and defeat Bowser. I said they should call Luigi if they didn’t believe me.

They told me to remove my raccoon ears and place my hands above my head while they read me my rights and took away my tail.

Poor Princess.

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To Grip the Bright White Chains – a Wasteland story

Delve into a post-apocalyptic world where a solitary woman grapples with isolation and the haunting remnants of the past.

The ocean reflected a sky the colour of hung meat. Elsie coughed as a chill wind changed direction, bringing with it the stench of washed-up fish.

She turned as a boy shuffled toward her with purple-rimmed eyes. The boy looked like every other addict: dishevelled, dirty, desperate, dead. He was beyond saving.

The boy crouched on one knee then swung a grubby rucksack from his shoulder. “You got the plez?”

Elsie nodded. “Three caps. I assume you’ve got what I asked for?”

The boy looked up at her as he unfastened the rucksack. “This stuff wasn’t easy to get.”

Raising her chin, she pursed her lips and glowered at the boy. “A deal’s a deal. If you want the caps—”

“Fine, fine.” The boy scratched at his hair, and laid the items out on the mottled concrete.

A smile crept over Elsie’s face. “Real. Unopened.” She knelt down on creaking knees to touch the pair of tins. “This is good work, but I asked for a brush.”

The boy groped inside his rucksack for several seconds and then pulled out a paintbrush. “It’s not perfect. It’s the best I could find.”

He handed Elsie the paintbrush with trembling fingers. It was sticky to the touch and coated with long-dried drips of paint.

She placed the brush into her shopping trolley, tucking it between a roll of polythene and a coil of blue rope.

The boy lifted the tins into the trolley and stood before her. She dropped three plezerra capsules into the boy’s outstretched hand. He nodded, turned, and ran. She shook her head and sighed as the boy disappeared beyond the sea wall.

Pushing her trolley, Elsie looked across the water, slick with oil and algae. The trolley’s wheels squeaked and snagged on stones and discarded plastic as it clattered along the promenade. Turning left, she pushed the trolley along a street lined with boarded-up and barricaded terraced houses.

She thought about the boy and about the drugs. He would feel wonderful for a day at most and then be back on the streets, stealing and whoring; each day bringing him closer to an early death.

The demand was there—the demand was always there. She told herself it was better for the drugs to come from her than from a violent street thug.

Turning right, Elsie walked down an alleyway, and shouldered her way backwards through a gate, closing it behind her. She gripped the trolley as she regained her breath. Feeling the twinge in her back, she lifted the tins from her trolley.

She surveyed her months of work. Bees buzzed around her while she inspected a bed of chrysanthemums, red and pink blooms swaying gently with the breeze, their fragrance tickling her memories, reminding her of carefree, more playful times.

She walked over to her bench, and ran a finger along its framing of curled wrought iron, glossy and black and detailed with twists of ivy. Varnished slats creaked as they took her weight, and Elsie looked over to the strawberry plants crawling up the wall. The berries were weeks from ripening.

The tins were the finishing touch.

Rummaging through her trolley, Elsie found a flat-head screwdriver and used it to lever open the first lid. She lingered on the old, familiar smell, a fresh smell she had not experienced for many, many years. She wiped the brush with a cloth and dipped it into the white gloss paint, brilliant and gloopy. Satisfied, she watched the paint fall in slow, deliberate drips from the brush and back into the tin.

Dragging the tin over to the first pole, she set to work applying the paint, grinning as it clung skin-like to the rust. She looked up at the chains hanging from the crossbeam and painted them too. She worked until the sky went dark and the air dropped cold.

She rushed to her garden early the next morning to see the paint had dried. Her work was complete. She stepped out through her gate as the sun emerged in the hung-meat sky, and approached a pair of children begging on the corner: a boy and a girl no older than eight.

“I’ve got something to show you,” Elsie said.

The children stared up at her and scowled. “Piss off,” the girl said.

“You’ll like it. I promise.”

The children exchanged furtive glances and rose to their feet. The boy regarded Elsie for a long moment before nodding to the girl.

“Okay, but if you try anything funny.” The boy patted a blade on his belt.

Elsie led the way and the children followed. She opened her gate and welcomed the children into her garden—their garden.

“Whenever you feel sad, whenever you feel desperate, I want you to come here. If you ever feel tempted by plezerra, come here instead. This is your sanctuary.”

“This is for us?” the boy asked.

“For you, for any child who needs to feel safe.”

The children smiled. “What’s that do?” The girl gestured past Elsie.

“I’ll show you. It’s perfectly safe.” She signalled for the girl to sit on the wooden seat and to grip the bright white chains.

“Hold on.” Elsie walked behind the girl. She pushed her and the girl swung up and back, up and back. Elsie felt the girl stiffen for a moment. Then the girl laughed. Then the boy joined in.

Elsie wiped a tear.

It had been a long, long time since she had heard the laughter of children.

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Birth of Assassins – Chapter One (excerpt)

Life is tough in Nordturm, but for Fedor, a street kid turned shoeshine boy, it becomes hell. Join him on a thrilling journey as he gets entangled with a gang of thieves in this prequel novel to the Dawn of Assassins series. Experience a coming-of-age high fantasy filled with assassins, thieves, and magic. Perfect for fans of Scott Lynch, Robin Hobb, and Brent Weeks. Get your copy now!

Fedor blew out the flame and dipped his brush into the melted polish. He studied the man’s shoes—simple, but well-made, soft black leather fastened with silver buckles.

He applied the polish to the right shoe, building up the first layer with gentle circles until the leather turned matte.

“You know, child. I was once where you were.”

Fedor applied the foundation layer to the left shoe.

“Though it was Hafendorf where I first plied my trade.”

Fedor gazed up at him with a raised eyebrow. “You were a polish boy?”

“No. I used to run messages on the docks.”

Fedor spat on the right shoe and brushed back and forth across the polish.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what I did?”

Fedor shrugged. “What’s the point?”

The man chuckled. “What’s the point? The point is I’m trying to teach you something. Tell me, child, how old are you?”

“I don’t know.” He brushed around the buckles and moved onto the other shoe.

“You’re not a man yet. What are you—twelve, thirteen?”

“I said, I don’t know.” He glared at the man’s questions and quickly averted his gaze—this was no way to get tips.

“I started off as a lowly messenger, dodging the curses of sailors, and I now run a merchant company with trading houses in Welttor, Nebel Hafen, Reichsherz, and I’m always looking to expand my operation.” He chuckled to himself. “And yet I still find myself dodging the curses of sailors.”

“Right.”

“And do you know how I did it?”

“I don’t.” Fedor pulled a leather cloth from his box and made small circles in the leather, bringing the surface to a deep shine.

The man leaned forward and tapped Fedor’s shoulder. “Do you want to know the secret?”

Fedor frowned. “To what?”

“To everything, of course.” The man looked around the market square, seemingly seeking inspiration from something or someone. Alchemical lights shone from the cave roof above, twisting his features with shadows. “The secret, my boy, is integrity.” He held Fedor’s gaze. “If you can be trustworthy, people will come back to you again and again.”

“Right.” He pulled his gaze away and wiped a mark from the left buckle.

“Believe me. It works much better than fear.”

Fedor sniffed. “You should tell that to the gangs round here.”

“Of course, you can get things done with fear and intimidation, but no one will thank you for it. As soon as your back is turned, you’re likely to find someone willing to drive a knife into your back.”

“I get it. Treat people bad and it comes back threefold. Priest talks about that all the time.”

“But it’s about more than merely avoiding pain. No, it’s about building trust over time. It’s about being reliable. It’s about integrity.”

“I don’t know what that word means.”

The man shook his head. “Simply put, integrity is about knowing the difference between right and wrong.”

“I know about sin.”

“Indeed. But there’s a difference between knowing and doing.”

Fedor raised the man’s feet to check the soles. He scraped away bits of dried dirt and salt from the grooves. He studied his work for a long moment and got to his feet on creaking knees. “All done.”

The man examined his shoes and took a piece of hack silver from his pocket. “This is for you. Thank you.”

Fedor pocketed the silver and tipped his cap. “Thanks, mister.”

“Remember what I said.” He held Fedor’s gaze. “We all have choices in this world.” He turned and walked away.

Fedor dropped his scraping tool into his box and sighed. “Whatever.” His eyes widened at the glimmer of silver resting on the seat. He snatched it up and turned it in his fingers. It showed a wyvern crest on one side and a profile of Ostreich’s last empress on the reverse—a one krone coin.

He hurriedly stuffed his cloth and brushes into his box and slammed the lid shut.

What if he kept the coin for himself?

With a sigh, he picked up his box and chased after the man.

He caught up to him at the stairs leading to the arena. “Hey, mister.”

The man spun on his heels and smiled at Fedor. “Ah, child. Is there a problem?”

Fedor handed the coin to the man. “This must have dropped from your pocket.”

The man studied the coin and tossed it back. “That coin is for you.”

“For me?” His eyes widened. “I didn’t know. You should have said.”

“If I had said, you wouldn’t have done the right thing.”

Deep lines set between Fedor’s eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

The man reached into his purse and pulled out another one-krone coin. He held it between his fingers and flicked it with his thumb, sending it turning through the air into Fedor’s hand. “And now you have two.” He tapped the side of his nose. “Remember what I said about integrity. Take care of yourself.”

“Erm, thank you.” The man strode away and Fedor shook his head. Who was he? What in the void was he trying to prove? His heart raced. Maybe it was another test. What if the priests had sent him to make sure Fedor was not pocketing the gains for himself? They would beat him again and feed him only scraps for a week. He refused to go through that again.

But if it was not a test—

A hand slapped down on his shoulder. “I don’t know what that was, but that was great. Never seen one like that before.”

Fedor vaguely recognised the lad, a few years his senior. He wore a grey shortcoat, white shirt, trousers, and boots, his sharp features shaded by a flat cap.

“I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure, mate.” He pumped Fedor’s hand. “I’m Lev.”

“I’m confused.”

“Confused? Thought your name was Fedor?”

“It is. Wait, how do you know—”

“Quick.” He tugged Fedor’s wrist and ducked into a tunnel at the edge of the market square. “This way.”

“Where are we going?”

Lev stopped. “Here’s fine.” He looked past Fedor and nodded to himself. “Never tell who’s listening, you know?”

“What do you want?” Fedor glanced back over his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, mate.” Lev held his palms open. “I got no intention of robbing you, if that’s what you’re worried about. Just want to know how you pulled it off.”

“Pulled what off?”

“You think I don’t recognise a scam when I see one? I’ve not seen that one before. How did it work? Is it just you?”

“Just me, what?”

“Mate, seriously?” Lev rolled his eyes and sighed. “I saw what happened. You can’t bullshit a bullshitter.”

“It wasn’t a scam. Honest.”

“No, mate. I saw it with my own eyes. You got Bartok Schultz to give you coin for no reason.” He fixed Fedor’s gaze. “I know a scam when I see one, trust me. How did you set it up?”

“It’s not a scam.”

“Course not.” He dropped his voice to a whisper and leaned forward. “Don’t worry. I’m not with the filth, if that’s what’s bothering you.”

“I know you’re not with the watch. I’ve seen you around. The priests say you’re no good.”

Lev spat on the floor. “The priests. The bloody priests? You’ve got to be kidding me. I’d sooner trust a wyvern than a priest.” He took a step forward and sneered. “Tell me. Priests make you grab their dicks yet or shoved things up your arse?”

Fedor started at the curses. “No.”

“Maybe it’s just the girls they do that to. Dirty bastards, either way.”

“They wouldn’t do—”

“I bet they hit you, don’t they? Give you a good smack for no reason.”

“Only sometimes.” He shuffled on his feet. “Only when we’ve sinned.”

“Yeah, I bet. Perverts, the lot of them.” He jabbed Fedor’s chest. “You need to get out of there, mate, before they start trying to bum you.”

“Bum me?” He pressed his back against the wall, his eyes growing wide. He had never heard anyone speak like this about the priests before.

“Good-looking lad like you.” He shrugged. “Surprised they haven’t already. Bloody pervs.”

“How would you know?”

“Everyone knows, mate.” He let out a sigh. “That’s how they do it.”

“Do what?”

Lev inclined his head. “You’re not the smartest kid around here, are you?”

Fedor stared at him, his mouth unable to form words.

“Think about it. Where’s the best place to find kids who won’t grass to their parents?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged one shoulder. “An orphanage?”

“See, you’re not a complete thicksicle.” He rubbed his hands together. “When you think about it, it all makes perfect sense.” He spat on the floor again. “Dirty bastards. You need to get out of there, get as far away from those nonces as you can.”

“I’ve got nowhere else to go.”

“Those coins you scammed are a good start, mate. You got two, didn’t you?”

Fedor nodded.

“So, out with it then. How did it work?”

“I swear it wasn’t a scam.”

Lev eyed him up and down and nodded to himself. “You’re either a good liar, or you’re telling the truth.” He folded his arms. “Tell me what happened.”

“I was shining his shoes and he was talking about doing good, and how he’d been a messenger.”

“Go on.” He tapped his foot.

“When I finished, he left a coin on the chair, and I went after him to give it back.”

Lev sniffed. “I would have kept it.”

“But he said the coin was for me and gave me another.”

“And that’s it?”

“Pretty much.”

“So, it was like a reward. You returned his coin and he gave you two? That’s genius, that is, mate.” Lev pushed out his bottom lip. “Great angle. Do-gooders like to do that. What you going to do with it?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know much, do you, mate? You should get us a good meal and place for the night. Get away from that orphanage.”

“I don’t know.” He fingered the coins in his pocket. “I think it might be a test.”

Lev studied him for several seconds. “What kind of test?”

“Doesn’t seem real, does it? I think the priests might be behind it.”

Lev rubbed his chin. “Make sense. Seems a bit far-fetched, though, doesn’t it?”

“But what if it is?”

“Nah, mate. You’re wrong.” He shook his head. “What difference does it make to the priests?”

“It’s not my money to keep.”

“He gave it to you, didn’t he?”

“Yes. But anything I earn goes to the priests.”

“Really?” He cocked an eyebrow and snorted. “And I thought they abolished slavery.”

“It’s not slavery. They feed me. They give me a roof, a bed.”

“Honestly, mate. They used to give slaves places to eat and sleep. That’s your money, that is. I’d be in half a mind to tell one of the watch, though we don’t exactly see eye to eye, if you get my meaning.”

“I suppose.”

“You get money for shining shoes, right?”

“Yeah.”

“He paid for that as well, didn’t he? Bit of hack for your efforts, like the rest?”

Fedor narrowed his eyes. “How long have you been watching me?”

“I watch everyone, mate. It’s what I do. You’d be surprised what you see when you take time to watch. That’s what I do. I pay attention. I see things.”

“What kinds of things?”

“Lots of things. Pay attention and the truth reveals itself, isn’t that what they say?”

Fedor shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t know.”

“Trust me. People don’t pay attention to things. I do. I might even tell you what some of those things are if we work together.”

“Work together?”

“Sure. Why not? I can take you under my wing, show you what’s what. You seem like a smart enough kid. Bit wet behind the ears, like, but I’m sure we can sort you out.”

“I’m not sure.”

“Here’s an idea. Keep that hack aside for the priests and I can show you a good way to spend that coin.”

Fedor rubbed the back of his neck and lowered his voice. “But what if it’s a test?”

“What if it is? You’ve got to live in the moment. Take whatever they give you and move on. At least you’ll have a good night to show for it.”

Fedor licked his lips. “What you got in mind?”

“Meal. Nice room. Some good ale. Or, you could go down into the stinking foundries, spend another night with a priest who wants to bum you.”

“They don’t bum me.”

“Yet.” Lev raised a finger and grinned. “But there’s always time, mate.”

“But it’s a sin.”

“Depends who you ask.”

Fedor shook his head. “They wouldn’t do that.”

“You keep thinking that, mate.” He gestured back towards the market. “You get to the pubs much?”

Fedor shook his head. “No. We’re not allowed.”

“Well, in that case, we definitely need to do it. What you got to lose?”

“I don’t know.” Fedor shrugged. “Nothing, I guess.”

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Armour – a story in the Ravenglass Universe

Experience the thrilling world of Armour – a story set in the Ravenglass Universe. Join Hilda Strauss as she navigates the challenges of her workshop, alchemical inventions, and a fateful encounter with Lord Hueber. Get ready for an epic fantasy adventure like no other!

Hilda Strauss looked across the Braun Sea’s jagged waves as her workshop windows rattled against the autumn winds. She adjusted her optic lenses with sluggish fingers, sighing as the sun’s silvery edge crept below the horizon. She traced the line of the stone jetty as it snaked out into the sea, her eyes skipping to the north-east as the alchemical glow of the Nebel Hafen lighthouse cast rippling shadows across the water.

Hilda turned to her workbench piled high with brass cogs, rubber hoses, and copper wires, grunting as she shook an alchemical orb. Her arms ached with the motion, and stopped only when the orb glowed brilliant white. Steam hissed from around her elbow joints as she hung the orb from a hook behind her left shoulder.

Brushing aside her abandoned drawings for an underwater boat, Hilda heard the sound of approaching footsteps. She stepped over to the black-painted wheel to the door’s right. The wheel made a sharp metallic sound as she gripped it and turned it anti-clockwise. The door’s interior rattled with gears and moving parts as it swung outward, the air changing as the stony dampness of the corridor swept into her workshop.

A man strode towards her, his face obscured by a trio of candles, their light casting flickering shadows along the arched stone walls.

“Madam Strauss.”

“Viktor.” She gestured him into her workshop. “What brings you down here so late?”

Viktor stepped into the light, placing the candlestick on a shelf next to jars of chemicals and oils. He stood tall with a thin face and sharp eyes, wearing high boots and a blue tunic. “Lord Hueber is anxious to know how you progress with the latest invention.”

“Please extinguish your candles in my workshop, Viktor. There are a lot of volatile liquids on those shelves.”

“Of course.” He gave a quick nod and blew out the candles with a single breath.

“If Dietricht wants to know how my work is progressing, he should come himself rather than sending his serving boy.”

“I am the Sworn Advisor to Lord Dietricht Hueber the Third of Hafendorf.” He puffed out his chest. “And this is his workshop.”

Hilda’s hand swung up with a sudden jerk to signal silence, mere inches from Viktor’s face. Though he did not flinch, Hilda smirked at the slight hint of a gulp in his throat. She dropped her arm with a hiss. “Dietricht’s specifications have been difficult to implement. I may have to start again.” She stepped over to her workbench as Viktor followed behind. Her hands gripped on the half-built jumble of wires and gears. “Why are you frowning? These things take time.”

“Can you not reproduce the structure you use?”

Hilda shook her head. “If only it was that simple. Dietricht has said he wants them worn with plate. This puts extra strain on the mechanism and makes it difficult to access for maintenance. I’m concerned that within a coat of armour it could simply overheat, melting its parts and searing Dietricht’s flesh.”

Viktor seemed to consider this for a moment. “Is there nothing you can do?”

“Yes.” She nodded. “But, as I have already said, these things take time.”

Viktor picked up the mechanical arms and manipulated the joints. “I’m sure this is in the same state as when I last examined it.”

Hilda sighed, snatching the arms back with a swift mechanical jerk and placed them back on the workbench. “The reason you have seen no change in the construction is because I have been trying to develop an alchemical coolant.”

Viktor scratched at the back of his neck and sighed. He turned to the sound of footsteps behind him. “Lord Hueber.”

Dietricht strode into the workshop and scanned his gaze along the cluttered shelves and dust-coated scraps of junk. “Madam Strauss.”

“My Lord.”

“I sent Viktor down here to see how things are progressing with my armour, then thought I might see for myself.”

Hilda noted Viktor’s change in posture, the air of confidence, the raising of his chin, and resisted the urge to smirk.

“Madam Strauss was just telling me about the alchemical coolant she is currently working on to ensure the mechanism doesn’t overheat.”

Dietricht lifted the mechanical arms from the workbench, turning them in his hand as he looked along each of the limbs as he gripped the shoulder harness between his fingers. “May I?”

Viktor waved his hands. “Madam Strauss has assured me they are not ready yet.”

“I must insist,” said Dietricht. “The mechanism looks complete, am I not correct?”

“You are correct, my Lord, but we are not ready for it to be encased in armour as yet.”

“But I can at least test its motion?”

“We can do that.” Gears crunched along her shoulders as she shrugged. “Place your hands up and keep your arms straight.”

She slipped the arms over Dietrict’s head.

He winced as the device tugged past his elbow, finally resting on his shoulders.

She stepped behind him and turned the key in the backplate to ignite the alchemical orb inside.

“May I?”

She frowned. “That is not advisable. The coolant is not quite there.”

Viktor placed a hand on Dietrich’s elbow. “My Lord, please.”

“Nonsense. Step aside.” Dietricht’s right hand shot forward with incredible force as steam hissed and gears ticked. “Impressive. Such speed. Such power.”

Hilda sniffed at the stench of singed hair. “Oh dear.”

Dietrich’s eyes grew wide. “Get it off me. Get it off me!” He screamed and writhed and thrashed.

Hilda turned to Viktor and sniffed. “Perhaps, next time, he will listen to his advisor.”

“We both know he won’t.” He shook his head. “We should probably help him.”

She licked her lips as Dietrich continued his panicked dance. “Probably.”

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Wizard of the Wasteland – chapter one (excerpt)

Experience the gripping post-apocalyptic world of Jon Cronshaw’s “Wizard of the Wasteland” in the first chapter reveal. Join Abel as he fights for survival, battles addiction, and encounters enslaved children. Discover a world of hope and despair in this thrilling sci-fi novel.

Wizard of the Wasteland by Jon Cronshaw

The stranger rolled into town at dawn, his cart rumbling through the gap in Trinity’s towering fence.

Abel squinted at the sun’s orange glare as it rose over the rooftops. “Come on, Pip.” He patted his thigh as a brindle-furred dog looked up at him and ran in a tight circle, her tail wagging. He passed huddled shacks as people gravitated towards the arrival.

Abel followed the gently sloping dirt track towards the entrance as Pip trotted at his side. Trinity wasn’t his home, but they always gave him a bed and meal when he came to trade.

Chickens darted in haphazard zigzags, confined by a line of wire mesh to his right, shedding feathers as they avoided the dog. The looming crucifix beyond the fence spread shadows across the rooftops. Children ducked past him, laughing as they chased each other.

A brown and grey mule lumbered forward, its head bowed as its rider brought the cart to a halt. The cart rocked on four rubber tyres. Garish daubs of blue and gold paint stretched along its sides.

Engulfed by dusty blue robes, the man dropped from the cart, reached behind his seat, and pulled on a pointy blue hat. He turned to the residents. “Ladies and gentlemen. I am the Great Alfonso, Wizard of the Wasteland.”

Abel joined the edge of the crowd as Pip sniffed around behind him, unconcerned by the wizard. Pip had been with him since he got off plez. She was the best reason he had to stay clean.

People stepped aside for Trinity’s priestess, Sal, as she moved through the crowd to speak to the wizard, her dreadlocks hanging loose from her hooded robe.

The wizard offered her a grin. “My good lady, am I correct in assuming that you are the Sal these good people have been talking about?”

“That’s right.” She folded her arms. “And you are…?”

The wizard removed his hat with a flourish and bowed his head. His skin was darker than Sal’s, his hair an explosion of twisted curls, streaked in black and grey. He raised his yellow-tinged eyes to meet Sal’s gaze. “Madam, if you please, I am sure my reputation precedes me. I am the Wizard of the Wasteland.” He lifted his chin, offering her a toothy smile as he spread his arms wide. “I am the magnificent, the splendiferous, the incomparable, Great Alfonso.”

Sal shook her head, letting the silence hang in the air for a long, awkward moment. “Sorry, I’ve never heard of you.” She examined his cart, running a finger along the whorls of paint. “Are you a trader?”

“Yes, yes.” The wizard raised his voice and a finger. “But more.” He smiled again and swept his gaze across the gathered faces. “What I offer is the wonder of the Great Alfonso’s magical extravaganza.” He threw out his arms.

Abel smirked as a few titters spread behind him. What was this guy trying to pull? He’d seen his fair share of chancers and conmen, but this was something else.

“Magical what?” Sal tilted her head.

“What I have for you today, ladies and gentlemen, is the culmination of many years of tireless research into the arcane arts of magic and alchemy, a glimpse into our once great past, now long lost to dust.” The wizard grabbed a handful of soil and let it fall between his fingers.

“I still don’t understand.”

“My good lady, you strike me as an intelligent woman, which is why I will ask you to be my first volunteer.”

She looked around and shrugged. “Okay.”

The wizard shuffled around the side of his cart, unbolting a series of locks. An oak panel swung down on a pair of hinges, bouncing for a moment against its supporting ropes.

The onlookers moved in closer as the wizard arranged apparent junk along a series of shelves—an ancient television set with a curved grey screen and wood panel casing, a fish tank, and a hand generator in black and brass.

Abel raised his eyebrows at the objects, wondering where the wizard acquired them. The electrical items would be useless, but some of those things were worth a lot in trade.

The wizard lifted a toy car from the shelf, its red paint faded to a cloudy pink along its edges. He retrieved a key and made a show of pushing it into the car’s rear. “With this ancient and magical key, I can bring power to this otherwise inanimate object.” He placed the car flat on the panel and turned the key, the mechanism clicking and crunching. The wizard muttered an incantation, closed his eyes, and wriggled his fingers over the toy. He let go. The car shot forward and hurtled over the edge, landing in a clump of soft grass.

A few people applauded.

“Thank you, thank you. You are all most gracious.” He lowered his head and returned the car to its shelf. “What you’ve seen here is just a mere hint, a mere glimmer of the extent of my magical powers.”

He took something else down, turned to the crowd, and raised a pair of binoculars above his head. “Behold! These magical eye lenses allow their user to see objects that are far away as though they are right in front of their very eyes.” He handed the binoculars to Sal and showed her how to look through them, gesturing for her to point them towards the spherical form at the top of the water tower.

A hush dropped over the crowd as she looked through the lenses. “These are wonderful. Where did you find them?”

“That, madam, is a secret.” The wizard tapped his nose with a forefinger. “Please, pass those round. Let the other members of your wonderful community experience this glimpse into the possibilities of alchemy and magic. But, please, do be careful.”

People took turns looking through the lenses. Abel smiled at the gasps of awe and the occasional burst of laughter. When they reached him, he focused on the wizard rifling around one of the shelves. He looked down at a tug to his elbow.

A kid jumped up and down with eager excitement, clapping his hands and staring at the binoculars. He handed them to the boy, took a moment to show him how to use them, and turned his attention back to the wizard.

The wizard held up a light bulb. “As you will observe, this is a simple globe of glass. I would offer to hand this round so you can witness for yourself my ingenious design. But, because the magic is so powerful and so very dangerous, I will instead ask that you all take a few paces back to give me room to perform this most incredible and delicate of feats.”

He placed the light bulb on the panel and checked the wires were connected to the hand generator. He stepped over to the dynamo and muttered an incantation with a raised chin and half-closed eyes.

Smiling to the crowd, he wound the handle.

A low hum and sharp crackle of electricity emanated from the generator as he turned the handle.

A scattering of gasps spread around the wizard as the light bulb glowed a brownish-yellow.

“As you can see, with this ancient magic, I have created fire within this glass. I’m sure you will agree that this might be the most marvellous, magnificent, magical accomplishment you have ever had the good fortune to witness.”

He stopped abruptly, sweeping his gaze across the crowd, now rapt. He raised his right forefinger with a sudden jerk. “Oh, but there is more.” He made a dramatic turn, his robes billowing in an expanse of dusty blue.

The crowd moved forward with hesitant steps as they strained to get a closer look.

The wizard disconnected the wires from the light bulb, placed it in a pot filled with cloths on the middle shelf, and connected the wires to the television. He turned back to the crowd, spreading his arms wide. “I must ask again that you take a few steps back. This is very ancient and powerful magic. What I am about to show you is the most amazing sight. Where are the magical lenses?” He waited a few moments for the binoculars to return to him. He looked through them, smiled again, and placed them on a shelf. “With those lenses, you were able to make objects far away seem as though they were close enough to touch. Using the same principles, I have devised and constructed a magical box that allows you to see over great distances to lands to the west, beyond the lawless zone.”

He reached for the hand generator and cranked the handle again.

The belt hummed, crackling and sparking as the smell of burning rubber filled the air.

He leaned over to the television set, muttered a spell, pushed a button, and kept turning the handle.

White noise hissed from the television’s speaker as the screen came to life in a random array of white, black, and grey—a dead signal. “As you could see, ladies and gentlemen, what we are witnessing is a window into another land, another land shrouded in—what is it?” He tilted his head and rubbed his chin. “A dust storm, perhaps?” He dropped the handle and turned to the audience with a dramatic shrug.

The white noise fell to silence, the screen fading to black. The gathered crowd applauded as the wizard made a deep bow. “Thank you, thank you. You are all too kind.”

“What I am about to show you now may be my greatest miracle, the pinnacle of my magical achievements.” His expression turned grim. “I warn you all that this is ancient and powerful magic and urge you again to stand back.” He reached up to the fish tank on the top shelf and took it down, placing it carefully on the flat panel.

He pulled out a green frog, holding it up by one leg for the audience to see, its body squirming as its free leg flailed wildly.

Stepping over to Sal, he dangled the frog before her. “Madam, please do me the honour of telling the members of your wonderful community what you see before you.”

She glanced over her shoulder and shrugged. “It’s just a frog.”

“It’s just a frog! Never has a truer phrase been uttered. So you will agree that this is a living, breathing frog? You agree there is no trickery, no shenanigans? It is, as you say, ‘just a frog’?”

She nodded. “As I say, it’s just a frog.”

Without ceremony, the wizard swung the frog against the panel. He waited with his back to the crowd for several seconds and raised the lifeless body for all to see. “As you will observe, the life of this frog has been taken.”

He turned his attention back to Sal. “Madam, would you like to take a moment to examine this frog, to assure the ladies and gentlemen gathered that this is the same frog?”

“You killed one of God’s creatures. I wouldn’t call that magic.”

“And you would be correct in that most astute of observations.” He offered her a slight bow. “There is no magic in killing a frog, but as much as it pains me to do it, as much as it pains me to take the life of an innocent creature, it was unfortunately a necessary component of the Great Alfonso’s most important magical discovery.”

The crowd looked on in silence as the wizard laid the frog flat. He took the wires from the television, attached the crocodile clips to the frog’s torso, and muttered the words of a magic spell, making complex shapes and symbols in the air with his fingers.

He turned to the crowd, made a solemn expression, removed his hat, and bowed. “Observe.” His voice dropped to little more than a whisper.

He stepped over to the generator and turned the handle, building up a rhythm until the belt hummed again.

The frog’s right leg twitched. The wizard wound the handle faster, smiling when the frog convulsed, its arms and legs quivering spasmodically.

Dropping the handle, he placed his hat back on his head and turned to the audience. “As you have seen, ladies and gentlemen, the Great Alfonso has brought this frog back from the dead.”

He turned back to the frog, now limp, and dropped it into the fish tank. He faced the crowd, taking in the applause. “Thank you.”

A few men shook their heads and walked away.

Children ran over to the wizard, jumping up and down as they asked him questions.

The wizard closed his cart.

Abel smiled at the wizard and weaved through the crowd, making his way over to Sal. “What did you make of that?”

She sniffed. “He’s clearly a charlatan.”

“Yep. But he certainly knows how to put on a show.”

“It’s just technology from before the end times. There’s no magic to it.” Her eyes grew narrow as a few residents led the wizard’s mule away to be fed and watered.

“I know.” Abel rubbed his beard, trying to understand her hostility. “But you have to admit, it’s pretty fascinating stuff.”

A frown spread across her face. “You’re not seduced by this fraudster, are you?”

“No.” His protest came out more defensive than he would have liked. “I’m intrigued. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen anything with real electricity.”

Sal nodded. “Perhaps.”

A tall man with pale skin and dark hair wandered over.

Abel forced a smile. “Jacob.”

“You look healthy. I take it you’re still keeping clean?”

“Yep.” He bristled at the implication in Jacob’s tone. He’d been clean for over a year, but it was the same question every time he returned to Trinity. They were good people, and the settlement was the best place to trade this side of the Grid. “I’m just going about my business as usual. No plez for me.” He knelt next to Pip and rubbed the fur behind her neck. At least she never judged him.

“Good to hear. God willing, let’s hope you can stay that way.” One corner of his mouth twitched as he turned to Sal. “What’s the plan with our wizard friend?”

Sal shook her head and sighed. “I don’t know. The residents are clearly taken with him. Might cause friction if we ask him to leave.”

Jacob cast a cursory glance towards the wizard. “What do you say? We treat him like any other trader and hope he goes by the morning.”

“I don’t trust him.”

“Come on, Sal.” Abel gestured towards the fence. “It’s hard out there. He’s surviving. It’s different, I’ll grant you, but he’s not raiding, or dealing. He looks like he’s probably clean.”

She raised her hands. “You could be right. But, I still don’t like it. This promotion of magic and mysticism doesn’t sit well with me.”

Abel smirked. “Just a different kind of magic to what you’re used to. You’ve got God, this guy’s got…” His voice trailed off at Sal’s glare.

She turned to Jacob. “He can stay for breakfast, but then I want him gone.”

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Clockwork Titan – a story in the Ravenglass Universe

Explore ‘Clockwork Titan’, a riveting high fantasy tale. Unravel mysteries of an ancient titan, ravenglass orbs, and wyverns in Nebel Hafen.

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.

If you would like more stories set in the Ravenglass Universe, you can claim your free starter library when you sign up to my newsletter.

Crucible of Shadows – chapter one (excerpt)

Experience the thrilling world of assassins and dark fantasy in Jon Cronshaw’s “Crucible of Shadows.” Fast-paced action, witty banter, and a dangerous gang await in this gripping installment of the “Dawn of Assassins” series. Perfect for fans of roguish fantasy.

Greasy sweat coated Fedor’s back and neck as he stared half-focused at the Rusty Sail’s back room wall. Peeling gloss revealed bare pine beneath, the wood’s knots and whorls shifting and expanding in time with his heartbeat.

His eyelids drooped again and the top of his head pressed against the wall behind him as a wave of pleasure washed up from the base of his spine, triggering sparks inside his skull, bliss mushrooming in his mind.

He breathed in another mouthful of smoke, its metallic tang setting his teeth on edge and unmooring his thoughts.

His muscles softened.

Burning flooded his lungs, the heat melting him to wax.

The pipe slipped from his fingers and his head flopped down onto the cushion, his eyes flickering shut, his breaths shuddering.

Something like liquid hands enclosed him, soft and warm and comforting and endless. The edges of memory caressed him—his mother holding him close to her chest, her cheek resting on the top of his head as she rocked him to sleep.

He floated in a pool of yellow light for a long time as colours danced around him, splashing him with love and beauty, every wish fulfilled, every problem, every worry, every anxiety no more than a distant contained dot, no more than an ant trapped under a jar.

The images subsided, melting into yellow warmth, dislocated from time…from everything.

His limbs disappeared, allowing him to drift—a formless self in the endless yellow nothing.

He became aware of another sensation, a sensation beyond his body, beyond the yellow.

A hand, a real hand, two hands. It gripped his shoulder, both shoulders, and shook him away from that place.

His eyes snapped open.

He focused on a familiar face for a second, tried to form a curse, and closed his eyes again.

Words struck his ears as if heard through deep water.

A slap to the face shifted his awareness.

Pain. Stinging. Heat.

He opened his eyes slowly, his hand drifting up to his throbbing cheek, and he met Lev’s glare with one of his own.

“Mate, what the fuck? How many times?” Lev’s features came in and out of focus. “Get up.”

Fedor’s head wobbled to the side and he mumbled something half-formed in his mouth. He just wanted to drift, to return to that place of bliss. If he closed his eyes for long enough, it would all go away—the memories, the pain—all of it would seep into nothing, become one with the endless yellow.

The shakes came again, this time harder.

He looked around the room at the other men and women staring at him and he met Lev’s gaze.

Lev reached down and hoisted him to his feet.

For a moment, he feared he might continue up through the ceiling, and float off through the lower city and into the clouds, joining the balloons and wyverns and seagulls as they glided on the breeze.

“Mate. Look at me. Mate.”

His attention latched onto Lev.

“No. Keep bloody focused on me.”

Fedor closed his eyes and sank back to the cushion.

Another slap came to his face.

He found himself standing again and tried to wriggle out of Lev’s tight grip. But his arms did not move in the way he wanted. “Leave me alone,” he slurred. “Leave me here.”

“No. You’re coming with me.” Lev cupped Fedor’s face in his hands and held his gaze steady, those dark pupils burrowing into him. “You can’t stay here.”

Fedor stared at nothing.

The slap came again and his focus shifted back to Lev and his breath, tinged with whisky.

“Look at me, you fucking dickhead.”

“Huh?”

“I said, look at me. You need to focus.” Lev gestured to the door, his words slow and clear. “I am taking you home. Do you understand?”

Fedor gazed longingly at the cushion, his focus catching the play of light down the length of the pipe.

Lev jerked him in a twist and marched him from the back room and into the main bar.

A thin man in a robe blocked Lev’s path and offered him a chequerboard smile. “Brother, your friend shouldn’t be taken like this.”

Lev drew his club and held it out with one hand, his hold on Fedor remaining firm. “You going to fucking stop me, mate? You want me to knock a few more of those teeth out for you?”

The man stepped forward, reaching for Fedor.

Lev shoved him back against the bar.

“Thirty-three, mate. This is a fucking thirty-three.”

“Wha—”

“I’m taking you home.”

Unable to protest, Fedor gave a weak nod, and allowed Lev to lead him away.

Available from February 1 on Kindle and paperback.

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