Read an excerpt

The Tinderdale Legend

Book I: The Rest ...... and be thankful

Excerpt 1

A Murder on Wimbledon Common

He sighed.

“I’ll brief you in my car. It’s a bit warmer.”

He and the other two “points of the compass” headed for the car to shelter from the bitter November day.

As he stood over the body of the murdered, teenage-faced man, Arthur North took out his mobile and made a call.

“Yes, North here. Connect me on a secure line please.”

He looked down at the body — the body of one of his oldest colleagues and dearest friends.

They had studied together as police cadets at the Academy and become firm friends. Having passed out with flying colours both had gone on to join the Secret Service.

A very secret service.

One hardly anyone would have heard of.

A secret force which had agents all over the world working within different countries’ own secret services, but with a loyalty to their own homeland.

North was connected.

“North here.”

He nodded a few times as the other person answered and questioned him.

“It’s Anaeus. We’ve found him. Throat slit, but put up a fight by the looks of it. It’s trademark Whaarl. He was following one of them…

The Whaarl must have used a really strong cloaking spray… been here three days…

We’ll have him brought back… yes, I’ll use the Forgetting on them all…

I’d better get going before too many other people get involved. Plus we’ve got another mess in Edinburgh that’s just happened which needs clearing up too…

Yes, the Whaarl… mmmm… as well as here…

Aeglaeus is dealing with that…

Right… give me a couple of hours and I’ll be there.”

He terminated the call.

Slowly he knelt beside Anaeus’s body, talking quietly to his dead colleague.

“I’m taking you home, old friend.”

He took one of Anaeus’s hands and held it gently as a tear ran down his cheek.

The Tinderdale Legend

Book I: The Rest ...... and be thankful

Excerpt 2

The Blades of Brastiu

They rushed across the road, traffic stopping suddenly, tyres screeching. Their highway code went straight out of the window. They ran onto the Clyde Arc Bridge spanning the River Clyde — the Squinty Bridge, as it’s better known in Glasgow.

They had only reached halfway when one of the Whaarl seemed to drop straight down in front of them. Obi shouted in surprise. Branco grabbed him viciously by the arm and twisted him round, dragging him hard into his chest. Dries landed beside them and made a grab for Jack. Jack lashed back with his bag, smashing it straight into Dries’s face. There was a sickening crunch. Dries howled. Jack reacted instantly and kicked him hard in the crotch. The Whaarl doubled over and collapsed.

Obi was still struggling with Branco, swearing furiously. Suddenly he twisted free an arm and drove a punch into the Whaarl’s face. Everyone heard the crack of his nose breaking. The Whaarl yelled. Aeglaeus slammed into him and knocked him over.

“Run!” Aeglaeus shouted. They ran. They were almost across the bridge when Jack risked a glance behind him. Nothing. Then he looked up. Both Whaarl were running down the arch of the bridge above them.

“Quick!” Jack shouted.

“Cross over and get to the Rotunda!”

They sprinted across the road again, traffic screeching to a halt. Jack turned just in time to see the Whaarl leap down from the bridge. They landed on the roof of the Rotunda.

And simply stood there. Watching them.

Jack raised his arms. “Stop.” Everyone froze. Jack looked at Aeglaeus.

“Listen. I’ll distract them and lead them away. They want me and the knives. Give me them. Obi, look after our mums.”

Aeglaeus handed him the case. Jack opened it and deliberately shoved the three Blades of Brastiu into his duffle bag so the Whaarl could see. Then he tossed the empty case aside. Aeglaeus said nothing. He liked what he was seeing. Jack was stepping up.

He nodded and pushed the others toward the entrance. Obi stood still.

“I’m coming with you.”

Jack smiled briefly.

“Nope, you’re not. They need you and I need you to look after them. Trust me.”

He paused. “There are things about me I haven’t even told you.” Obi looked straight into Jack’s eyes. The message was clear. He nodded. And followed Aeglaeus, who was already pushing the two mothers toward the Rotunda.

Jack looked up at the Whaarl. They were snarling down at him. He gave them a one-fingered salute. Then he ran. Along the Clyde. Past the Scottish Television Centre.

Towards the Science Centre. Jack ran faster than he had ever run before. This time he drew on something new. Something he had only just begun to understand.

His Elfin abilities.

He almost seemed to fly along the walkway, his feet barely touching the ground as he raced past the BBC headquarters. Above him the Whaarl leapt from rooftop to rooftop.

Closing in. One of them, Branco, leapt for the roof of the IMAX cinema — the great silver building shaped like a fat metallic slug. He misjudged. His feet slipped on the curved surface. He slid down the smooth metal desperately grabbing for something to stop his fall.

Jack changed direction again, racing towards the Glasgow Tower. Dries leapt. One enormous jump. He landed halfway up the observation tower and grabbed the lift shaft.

The whole structure shuddered. Jack stopped dead. The path ahead was blocked.

Behind him Branco had recovered and was already running along the top of the Science Centre Mall. He slid down the steep glass frontage and landed lightly in a crouch.

Then stood. Dusting himself down. Grinning.

Jack looked left. Then right. He was trapped. One Whaarl stood above him on the tower.

The other behind him beside the Science Mall. He swallowed. They were assassins. Killers.

And he was just a sixteen-year-old boy. A dredger barge moved slowly along the Clyde behind him.

The Whaarl began to close in. Slowly. Smiling. Jack backed away step by step. His shoulders touched the wooden railing of the riverside café. Nowhere left to go. He took a breath. It was now or never.

Jack ran. Straight for the river. He vaulted the railing. And kept running. Out over the Clyde.

The Tinderdale Legend

Book I: The Rest ...... and be thankful

Excerpt 3

The Christmas Command Centre

The corridor curved deeper into the mountain. Jack walked between Aeglaeus and Obi while his Mum and Maureen followed behind. Every so often someone passed them going the other way. Some looked Human. Others clearly were not. Two small Elves hurried past carrying tool cases and arguing quietly. Nobody stopped them. Nobody stared. Which somehow made everything feel even stranger.

They turned a corner. Ahead of them enormous glass doors stretched from floor to ceiling. Beyond them Jack could see daylight. Aeglaeus pushed the doors open. Cold air rushed in. Jack stepped through the doorway. And stopped dead. The mountain opened into a vast bowl carved into the rock. Below them stretched an enormous airfield. Runways cut across the valley floor. Hangars were carved directly into the mountainside.

Teams of reindeer stood harnessed to sledges. Ground crews checked straps and polished runners. Flight officers moved between them calmly giving instructions. One sledge began accelerating down a runway. At the end of it the air shimmered.

A glowing circle appeared. The sledge struck it and vanished.

Another sledge descended from the sky moments later, appearing suddenly before touching down gracefully. Standing in the back was a large figure dressed in red. Long white beard. Heavy coat. Even from this distance Jack could hear the booming laugh.

The man stepped down and assistants hurried toward him.

Jack blinked.

“I think I’ve just seen Father Christmas.”

His Mum followed his gaze across the valley.

“Those are… sledges.”

Maureen folded her arms.

“If this is a practical joke,” she muttered, “it’s a very expensive one.”

A heavy rumble echoed across the valley. One of the largest hangars slowly opened.

Inside stood an enormous sledge. Armoured. Massive runners. Far larger than the others.

Technicians moved beneath it checking equipment.

Jack frowned. “That one doesn’t look very Christmassy.”

Aeglaeus glanced toward it. “Contingency.” Jack looked again. Christmas had a war plan.

They entered another chamber. Rows of consoles curved across the room. Operators watched enormous displays. Three spheres rotated slowly.

“The World of the Light,” Aeglaeus said.

“The Middle World.”

“The World of the Dark.”

Glowing rings appeared and vanished constantly between them.

“Holes Between Worlds.”

Another screen flared to life. A map of Earth. Thin glowing lines began appearing across it. Hundreds. They stretched between continents linking cities across oceans.

“What’s that?” Jack asked.

“Flight routes,” one operator replied calmly.

“Trial runs. Optimising delivery paths.”

The globe continued rotating slowly as the web of glowing routes shifted and adjusted constantly. Jack stared at the spheres again. A thin streak of light suddenly moved across the surface of the dark world. Then vanished.

“What was that?”

“Unidentified movement,” said an operator without looking up.

Aeglaeus said nothing. Another display appeared. Snow. Mountains.

“Nepal,” someone said.

A herd of reindeer moved slowly across the snow. Two enormous animals walked among them. “The two in the centre are Primals,” Aeglaeus said quietly. “Older than most kingdoms in your world.” Jack frowned. “The rest?” “Descendants.” Jack’s Mum leaned slightly forward. “They’re beautiful.” Maureen watched the ridge line. “Which means,” she said quietly, “someone’s about to try to kill them.”

A dark figure appeared on the ridge. A blade flashed.

“The Whaarl,” Jack said.

“Confirmed.”

An LSS team dropped through a Hole. The Whaarl vanished into the mountains.

“Target escaped.”

“Primals secure.”

Jack watched the herd moving slowly through the snow.

“Why the reindeer?”

An operator replied calmly.

“Because if the Primals die…” He paused. “…Christmas eventually dies.”

Jack stood very still. This wasn’t just a story about presents. It was a war.

The Tinderdale Legend

Book I: The Rest ...... and be thankful

Excerpt 1

A Murder on Wimbledon Common

He sighed.

“I’ll brief you in my car. It’s a bit warmer.”

He and the other two “points of the compass” headed for the car to shelter from the bitter November day.

As he stood over the body of the murdered, teenage-faced man, Arthur North took out his mobile and made a call.

“Yes, North here. Connect me on a secure line please.”

He looked down at the body — the body of one of his oldest colleagues and dearest friends.

They had studied together as police cadets at the Academy and become firm friends. Having passed out with flying colours both had gone on to join the Secret Service.

A very secret service.

One hardly anyone would have heard of.

A secret force which had agents all over the world working within different countries’ own secret services, but with a loyalty to their own homeland.

North was connected.

“North here.”

He nodded a few times as the other person answered and questioned him.

“It’s Anaeus. We’ve found him. Throat slit, but put up a fight by the looks of it. It’s trademark Whaarl. He was following one of them…

The Whaarl must have used a really strong cloaking spray… been here three days…

We’ll have him brought back… yes, I’ll use the Forgetting on them all…

I’d better get going before too many other people get involved. Plus we’ve got another mess in Edinburgh that’s just happened which needs clearing up too…

Yes, the Whaarl… mmmm… as well as here…

Aeglaeus is dealing with that…

Right… give me a couple of hours and I’ll be there.”

He terminated the call.

Slowly he knelt beside Anaeus’s body, talking quietly to his dead colleague.

“I’m taking you home, old friend.”

He took one of Anaeus’s hands and held it gently as a tear ran down his cheek.

The Tinderdale Legend

Book I: The Rest ...... and be thankful

Excerpt 4

The Hall of the Primals

Thorba’s deep voice rumbled through the cold air.

“Come. We must go.”

Outside the forest waited four wolves. Not ordinary wolves. These were enormous — almost as large as Thorba himself — and each one was saddled. Arthurian mounted Thorba with easy familiarity. The other wolves approached the rest of the group.

One nudged Jack forward. He climbed awkwardly onto the white wolf’s ba

k, gripping the thick fur nervously. Beside him Obi was being persuaded by a tawny-coloured wolf who clearly had little patience for hesitation. The Lady Atnas, the Seer, and Guuraati the Magician mounted calmly. Jack and Obi looked less certain.

Arthurian turned in the saddle.

“You are not permitted to enter the Hall of the Primals unless I take you to the bridge,” he said quietly.

“Beyond that… you are alone.”

Jack frowned.

Arthurian’s tone darkened.

“It is a dangerous place for a Knight.”

He looked directly at Jack.

“And even more dangerous for a Half-Breed.”

Thorba began to move. The wolves ran. They tore through deep forests north of Christmas City, through valleys buried in snow, into a region where nothing lived.

The Mountains of Duur. Even the wolf beneath Jack spoke quietly as they ran.

“These lands were poisoned long ago. No one comes here anymore.”

Hours passed. Jack eventually fell asleep against the wolf’s neck, rocked by the rhythm of the run. When he awoke, the landscape had changed again. Nothing but snow stretched in every direction. And ahead… something shimmered. As if sunlight were reflecting off water. The brightness grew stronger until Jack had to shield his eyes.

The wolves stopped. Before them rose a wall of ice. Enormous. Endless.

Arthurian placed a hand on Jack’s shoulder.

“I may take you through the wall,” he said. "But no further.”

Jack’s stomach tightened.

“Beyond the wall lies the bridge. Only one person may cross it.”

Arthurian’s voice dropped lower. “Many have tried. And many have turned to dust.”

Jack stared at the ice. Dust. That word lodged itself firmly in his mind. But he had come this far.

He took a slow breath.

“I’ll do it.”

Guuraati began an incantation. The wall of ice melted silently, forming an opening large enough for Arthurian and Jack to pass through. They stepped inside. Behind them the ice sealed again. On the other side the world fell away. A narrow bridge of ice stretched across a black chasm so deep Jack could not see the bottom. At the far end stood a vast hall made entirely of ice. Its doors were enormous.

Arthurian stopped.

“I wait here,” he said.

Jack nodded. Then stepped onto the bridge. It cracked faintly beneath his weight. He froze. Three feet wide. No rails. Nothing but darkness below. Jack hated heights. He swallowed hard. Then he ran. His Elfin speed carried him across the bridge in seconds.

Nothing broke. Nothing shattered.

He reached the doors. They opened slowly. A whisper filled his mind.

“Enter as you were born.”

Jack hesitated. Then he understood. Moments later he stepped forward, naked and unarmed, into the Hall. Inside sat the Primals. Twelve of them. Ancient. Silent. Watching.

Along both sides of the hall stood vast thrones carved from ice, shimmering in the light.

Upon them sat the oldest Knights of the Light, the youngest Primals. Humans. Beings.

Creatures whose forms Jack only half recognised. None of them moved. None of them blinked. And yet he could feel their attention pressing down on him like weight.

A whisper filled his mind again.

“Yes… but you have not come to see them.”

Before Jack could react something seized him. An invisible force. It yanked him forward violently. His feet left the ground. Pain exploded through his ribs as something gripped him like an enormous hand. He was lifted high into the air. Then thrown. Doors burst open ahead of him. He flew through them and crashed onto the frozen floor beyond. The assault continued. Invisible hands dragged him upright, pulled him sideways, twisted him toward another line of ancient thrones. Voices filled his head. Hundreds of them. Whispering. Judging. Examining. He was dragged onward. Through another set of doors. And another. Again and again. The oldest history of the Knights of the Light. Twenty-one chambers in all. Each older than the last. Each more ancient than the one before.

By the time he reached the final chamber Jack could barely stand. His ribs burned. His head rang with the constant whispering of voices. He was dragged forward again. Then lifted. Higher this time. His arms forced outward. His body stretched as if on a rack. The final chamber blazed with light. Twelve towering figures sat upon thrones. The First Primals.

They were different from the others. Older. Stranger. Their foreheads elongated. Their fingers long and thin. Their eyes pale and opaque. They studied him in silence. Invisible hands forced him closer. His face was grabbed. Turned. Examined. Then thrown back.

Jack screamed.

“Stop!”

His voice echoed across the hall.

“I am not here to harm you!”

The pressure only increased. Pain shot through his body. Still the whispers continued.

Jack gasped for breath. Then forced himself to stand. Every muscle screaming. He lifted his head. And spoke again. This time louder.

“I am here of my own free will!”

His voice boomed across the vast chamber.

“You involved me. You set something in motion thousands of years ago. If you need me…

Then stop destroying me. Give me what I need to help you.”

Silence fell. The invisible hands released him. Jack collapsed onto the ice. For several long moments nothing happened. Then gentle hands lifted him again. Carefully this time. A voice spoke. Clear. Ancient. Echoing through the hall.

“Now we can… son of Alphaeus.”

And suddenly the voices flooded into his mind. Images. Memories. Centuries. Thousands of years of knowledge pouring into him. The Primals passed him between them. Each showing him something. Each giving him something. Until finally the darkness took him.

And Jack knew no more.