Tornmile Part XXIX: Treacherous Steps Johreel walked through the courtyard, his feet making no sound on the cobbles, as he tucked the sack containing the man named Straton’s head under his belt. His injured hand was still not fully healed and there was always a possibility one of the City Watch would get curious and … Continue reading
The Heart of the Forest Part 1: A Short Cut Golden sunlight poured through the forest canopy, striking down in such thin shafts that Robin thought that they would cut his skin if he walked through them. It was cool in the shade of the trees, though, and a walk in the forest was far … Continue reading
Tornmile Part XXVIII: Tokens “It means you have to die.” Mishak and Marthe left their seats at the same time, but it was Mishak who got to the man first, bringing the short sword round and knocking the curved dagger from his hands in one deft blow. It clattered against the fireplace and fell to … Continue reading
This year, on every final friday of the month, I will be turning the spotlight on other writers to showcase their talents here on my blog. To kick the series off, I bring you Alex Laybourne, master of horror, who will be sharing with us an extract from his book Highway to Hell. Without further … Continue reading
Tornmile Part XXVII: Fox & Dagger There was silence after the man’s pronouncement, but Mishak could feel Marthe shift slightly behind him. The wound in his side ached and he thought that Marthe’s stitching might have come undone again. She hadn’t been pleased that the stitches on his shoulder had pulled free and though mending … Continue reading
The Bloody Hill The Hill was in front of him. It had many different names since no one knew what it was rightly called, but to Oscar it was just The Hill. On occasion it became The Bloody Hill or other contemptuous names, but usually it was just The Hill. It was a monolith in … Continue reading
Tornmile Part XXVI: Lady In Waiting Brielle sat in front of the mirror, trying to resist the urge to snatch the brush from Léa’s hands, but her patience was thinning with every pulled knot. It was ridiculous anyway. She was perfectly capable of brushing her own hair, and Darian’s house had no shortage of servants … Continue reading
Slumped on the wet pavement; Discarded. The breeze plays with it.