The brand new podcast serialisation of my first novel, From the Hill of Megiddo, has now launched. You can watch episode one on YouTube, where subscribing to the channel will get you notified both of future episodes and other videos I make, or listen to it on all the main podcasting services. Buy From the… Continue reading From the Hill of Megiddo – Episode 1
Several weeks after Anael had begun training Nuadhu and Pwyll, Judoc arrived in the town with a force of twenty warriors on horseback.
The only sounds to be heard in the early morning as the sun rose over Liuerpwl were the light rustling of the trees in the breeze, a few birds singing and occasionally a dog barking in excitement as its master rose. As the villagers finished breaking their fasts and prepared to start the day’s work, soon the quiet would be overtaken, but for now Anael took the opportunity to enjoy it.
The full moon called a hail of stars down from the sky on the night the devil came. The wind blew with a force that made walking against it not unlike trying to push a boulder uphill. It sent the rain, sharp and cold, straight at you so that it stung where it hit bare flesh, almost as hard as if it were hail. This would have made it hard to see anything, even had the moon not already been buried by the thick, dark clouds. There was no clear divide between the sky and the land, the whole of it being draped in a shroud of black without end.
There was air coming into the box. But that didn’t mean it was easy to breathe. Her chest was tight, her breaths coming in shallow and rapid, and her head swam. The time in which she was jostled about by movement felt endless while it was happening, then appeared to have taken no time at all once it was done. After that she was laid down flat somewhere, the only accompaniment to her own ragged breaths being the occasional low murmur of voices.