last updated: 11th March

Novels

"THE DARK SHORES"

Coming Soon...potential release date in 2008

This is my second novel, now that A Wizard's Tears is complete. It will follow the continuing journey of Vergail, the high priestess, one of the main characters in A Wizard's Tears. The priestess goes on a pilgrimage to Mykemu, a mysterious island to the far west of Elrohen, to find herself once more, for the delights and splendours of the city of Malana no longer hold true to her. Once in Mykemu, Vergail finds herself as the unlikely saviour of a village destroyed and ravaged by a virus. The virus, however, has a more sinister secret...



Excerpt from Chapter One:

"The water lapped at his bare feet, gently trickling into the rock pools from the sea to the north.

Wooden spear in hand, the muscular man clambered over the boulder strewn beach, looking down intently for his prize. Softly, without sound, Jolner watched, and waited. Patience was the key to this hunt. Soon he would find a crab, and then he would strike.

It varied, at times, on the amount of crabs he would see. It was not uncommon for him to come to this beach and find a dozen, all of which would end their lives on the tip of his spear. Today, there appeared to be none, which was unusual. Sometimes the ebb and flow of the tide caused the numbers to be different, but this morning, with the tide in and lapping at his feet, he expected to see a lot more. He was a tall man, over six feet, and his body was blacker than the dark sky of dawn. His black hair was tied behind his head in a knot, making him look bald. His body was the embodiment of physical prowess, muscular and fit, with not an ounce of fat on him. He wore only a ragged grey loincloth, the heat in this place did not warrant him to wear anything else.

Pausing momentarily in his task, Jolner glanced across the sea to the horizon. There, where the sky met the sea, he could see the monument, a great black, obsidian obelisk, standing tall and proud on the small jaggy rock that supported it. He did not know its height, but estimated it at roughly thirty feet tall, about five grown men standing on top of each other. It was slender, only two or three feet across, and was shaped like a curved snake, coiling upward like a number two. The top of the structure formed a circle with its main base, and curled behind the main base into a sharp point. Often, the midday sun would shine through this circle, bathing the beach he stood on in a shimmering glow. At this time, the monument took on a spiritual appearance, with the pale light of dawn seeming to slide off its smooth surface. Jolner did not know who built the structure, or why, but whenever he looked at the thing it filled him with dread. Today was no exception.

Turning his gaze back to the rock pools, Jolner finally caught sight of a crab, not even moving, just sitting in the shallow water, as if it were asleep. All too easily he stabbed down with his spear, and struck the crab right in the centre. About time, he thought. He had been out here for a good hour, with no reward. This had to be his worst hunt on the beach yet. At least, now, he would have his breakfast, but poor old Grem would not get his quota for his market stall today. Times were hard, here on the island. Years ago, when he had been younger, there had been a plentiful supply of fish and crab meat. Many animals stalked the island around the cliff tops: birds, rabbits, even deer. Yet now there were less and less, and Jolner, not for the first time, wondered why. Sure, Farmer Grem had livestock, and bred deer and birds. Yet each year there seemed to be more of them dying, less and less of them having babies. Something was at work, and it was not natural. Shaking off his disturbing thoughts, Jolner took his prize and headed inland slightly, where the ground was sand and not rocks. Here, he would build a fire, and cook his crab. He was hungry, and his hour exertions on the beach had not helped his stomach.

The fire spluttered into life, and soon the smell of burning crab hung in the air, a smell that made Jolner suddenly ravenous. It would last him the day, this meagre meal, for the crab was not large, by any means, and the food in the village was becoming more and more scarce. As he ate, Jolner worried for the island and the villagers, his friends. They simply could not go on as they were. The lack of food was forcing people from their homes, to journey south, into more remote parts of the island, to allay their hunger and thirst. Worse still, some were using the only port in the island to wait for ships from the continents to the east, and were leaving the island in droves. It was such a shame for the islanders. Most had lived here all their days, and to be ousted and moved purely for survival was tough for them to bear. Jolner wished he knew what was happening to the island, why the food and crops were suddenly so hard to grow and nurture. It was as if the very soil itself were dying, it’s ground dry and without the nutrients required for sustaining life. Jolner could not understand why the ground was becoming increasingly more poisonous. It just did not make any sense. The sun shone as it always did. The tides, they came to and for like they always did. Nothing seemed to change here, on the island.

His musings were suddenly halted, forcibly. A loud pitched shrieking erupted from nowhere, deafening to his ears, like a thousand birds had taken residence in his brain and were squawking in his head. Dropping his crab meat, Jolner stood, clutching his ears with his hands. He could see light bursting from atop the monument, out there in the sea: a dramatic, yellow light that caressed the whole sky with its illumination. Jolner looked on in terror. He could make out the monument so clearly now, the strange black structure glimmering with the harsh light atop of it. The light was shaped in a circle, and seemed to grow and coalesce around the monument, making the whole thing blur and shimmer.

Jolner could look no longer. With the sound piercing his mind and hurting his head, he fled, running as fast as his legs could carry him away from the beach, away from the light and the monument. His feet thumped hard on the sand, his breath caught in his lungs as he rushed from the scene. Soon, he was away from the coast and heading inland, back towards the village. He slowed then. The noise in his ears had gone, as quickly as it had arrived. Here, in the rocky path between the hills that marked the edge of the village boundary, there was quiet. The pale light of the sun was just coming into view, the start of the morning proper. He looked at the sun and relaxed as its warmth shone over his body.

He did not know what had just happened. He had never seen that light, or heard the screams in his head. The event had disturbed him greatly. He did not tarry, but walked quickly and purposefully back towards home. He would talk to Farmer Grem, his master and friend. Perhaps old Grem would know what the light in the sea meant, and what the sounds in his ears meant.

Momentarily, Jolner had completely forgotten about his lack of food during his early morning hunt, or the plight of the island. "