Latest release on Channillo

The latest chapter of my fantasy novel “Archipelago” has just been released on Channillo.com.

Read a sample here:

Aaron approached the Naval Militia Offices, an austere stone building five stories high, overlooking The Bay of Kelmardos. It ran along the east side of the lake surrounding The Lords Tower, creating a functional curtain wall that could – in theory at least – be defended. Built on Ancient foundations, it wore a sense of history; its stoic seaworn solidity marked by centuries of wear. He walked up the steps, countless feet,  winds and rains marking the passage of time.

An imperial guard in full ceremonial armour stood to attention at the grand entrance. He barely looked at Aaron. The doors were open – created in epic proportions, a full six feet taller than him – the hallway inside likewise expansive. Concrete pillars supported the vaulted roof, the ceiling’s heroic plasterwork crumbling to leave deformed creatures cavorting above. Elaborate stained glass decorated one vast window frame overlooking the tower. Small panes, each held in a dark lead lattice, formed a scene depicting The Cataclysm – figures dying, bodies twisting in pestilent agony, whilst The Ancestors fled to the islands. A sweeping staircase spiralled up and corridors led off in two directions. An elderly scribe nodded a greeting.

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Archipelago

The first part of my fantasy novel “Archipelago” is now available to read on Channillo. Read the opening below:

Caerlin Kengarl stared towards the distant Bay of Kelmardos, her destination a distant smudge. There was going to be a spectacular sunrise, with a slice of fierce vermillion already catching the wrinkled underbelly of the blanket cloud shrouding the eastern sky. Red sky in the morning, sailor’s warning. It was what her father would have said, not that she had ever listened to him.

She stood with her hand against the cold wood of the main mast. Her boat, The Piper, moved slowly, making the most of the westerly, which soughed through the rigging above her, a rhythmic clanking keeping time with the wash of water under the prow. The Piper was a trading vessel, and whilst not built for speed, it was practical, with two masts, a small cabin, a space below for the galley, sleeping dormitory and hold, which took up most of the space. Designed for island hopping and large river navigation, for the last six months the boat had been her charge. She felt wistful about the approaching end to this arrangement.

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Lucky

The mongrel has one ear. The other is missing, a jagged flap of skin covering the skin-puckered hole. From the set of his jaw, he’s part staffie, with a lurcher’s long tail and part something else. He walks jauntily through the road dust and litter and the new black ash, his tongue lolling like a freshly sliced piece of ham. That’s how I first see him, owning the lonely street and leaving pawprints. He’s the first living thing I’ve seen here.

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