Sometimes Janice struggled with being a children’s author.

Her series of Hippity-Hop and Bunnykin sold out to pre-schoolers’ parents as perfect for precious, developing young minds.

There was much excitement when she published the retelling of a favourite fairy tale.

Until the reading parents got to …they all lived happily ever after. The story continued:

..except they didn’t as no one lives forever. In fact, they all died. Some quite terribly of various agonising diseases and some in horrific accidents.

What the parents, and Janice, hadn’t expected was the delight with which most youngsters took to this dose of reality.

E.M. Swift-Hook

The Dragon and Leek was a small but substantial wayside cupona on a narrow, but well-travelled, road skirting through the foothills of the mountains. It seemed to lack any kind of village and stood, half-hidden by the forest in its deep valley. Here the road tracked the path of a brook which locals considered worthy of being considered a river. Used to the Tamesis, Dai was not convinced.
It was mid-morning as the vigiles piled out of the all-wheeler in the car park which doubled as a stableyard and were met by the worried landlord. Blaen Aderyn was a man who looked past the age of retirement and leaned on a stick to walk, but had a fierce briskness which defied anyone to consider him too old for his role.
Introductions made, Dai sent Bryn and his team with one of the staff to begin the usual investigation preliminaries and let himself be coaxed into the warmth of the lounge area, by Aderyn. A few locals, presumably from the hill farms around, were gathered at one end watching a game of harpastum on a big screen. Now and then the image broke up or the screen blanked, but the small audience didn’t seem to mind. Aderyn found them seats well away from the sports fans. The two of them were served with mugs of honey sweetened mulled wine that Dai only agreed to when assured it was mostly just spices and water – and on the promise a tray would be provided for Bryn’s team as they worked.
“This is a terrible shock to us all, I don’t know how it could be. They were fine when they arrived early evening, ate quietly – the men here and the lady upstairs in her room. It is not anything we have had happen here before and I can’t imagine how it could be. This is so very, deeply disturbing.”
Dai nodded along sympathetically and brought the topic to the point.
“So they came in last night, rooms were pre-booked in the name of,” he checked the entry in the book – handwritten. “Deliciae Parnassa Devotius?”
The man nodded. “Yes. She came all cloaked and hooded. Could barely see her face beneath the fur.” “And her escort were Roman – are you sure?”
“As sure as I can be. They spoke like it and they both wore one of those.” He gestured to the broad silver ring of citizenship on Dai’s index finger. “They ate their food and went up to their room soon after.”
“Did they say or do anything you recall whilst they ate?”
Aderyn frowned and shook his head.
“Not aside what you might expect – the weather, having to travel at Saturnalia – that kind of thing.”
“Anything about their employer?”
“Not a word as I heard. I can ask the staff of course, or you can.”
“Did they talk to anyone else? Any other guests?” “Well, it being Saturnalia and all they were the only guests. Most of our trade comes from those who have business at one of the medical or care facilities on Ynis Mon. Romans don’t like to stay there overnight and we make a good stop-over before they run back to Londinium. But trade has not been so good lately, what with the latest economic downturn and -”
Dai cut across him.
“Did they talk to any locals?”
The old man shook his head again, a worried frown on his face.
“Not that I know. You lot are going to pin it on me though, aren’t you? Just like the last Submagistratus did over the contraband they they found in the cellar of The Fox and Radish. You don’t care who gets the blame long as someone can be tried for it. They took Geddy Haps and had her executed for it within the week. And she was as innocent as they come.” His voice was rising in pitch as he spoke and some heads turned from the game towards them.
“Won’t happen,” Dai said in the brief space when Aderyn paused to draw breath. “The man you speak of is himself disgraced and dead. There will be no miscarriage of justice on my watch. You have my word.”
“The word of a Roman?”
“The word of a Llewellyn – and a citizen.”
The old man reacted to his name, which was not so surprising. The family was very well known throughout Cornovii and beyond.
“A Llewellyn you say? And a citizen? How can that have happened?”
“When this is all dealt with I will happily come back, sit by your welcoming hearth and buy us a jug of your finest ale to share as I tell you the tale of it. But for now I need your honesty – so we can find who did this and what has happened.”

From Dying as a Druid, a Dai and Julia Mystery by E.M. Swift-Hook and Jane Jago. 

Writing made easy – if you don’t mind the bumps!

The wit, wisdom, joy and frustration of a writer’s life summed up in limericks…

It isn’t a matter of talent precisely
It’s more the decision to write something nightly
Of maidens forlorn
Or a dip into porn
It need not be good but one day just might be

Jane Jago

The downside was that living on Invercallus was like living in a furnace.
Jaz hated that you couldn’t go out in the daytime without wearing full on protective gear to shield from the heat and solar radiation. But at night it was very different. The air was cool and clear and the red rocky landscape looked beautiful. Even so the only habitable zone was at one of the poles – it was the only place water didn’t all evaporate away and the only place some stubby plants had managed to put the odd splash of colour on the dull ochre-grey background.
Jaz had never figured why they didn’t go full dome for the settlements here. Instead people shifted their way of life and spent the days sleeping and the nights transacting whatever of business or labour they needed to do. Maybe that was because many here came from Thuringen and were well used to days that were nights.
There were plenty of domes. But not connected in any proper way. The entire settlement was pretty much a huge spaceport and nothing else. Except unlike most spaceports, each bay had its own attached residential mini-dome. Maybe some of the privately owner-occupied ones had lavish fixtures and fittings, but as the Tarams didn’t even really live in theirs it was pretty basic. Jaz could compare it with the kind of comfort level he’d endured in barracks during his time with the Specials – except the food here was a lot better.
Much of the time, Jaz had the place to himself. Thuringen was a short hopper ride away and, like most else of the people who called Invercallus home, the Tarams preferred to be there, or anywhere else, as much as they could. He wasn’t surprised. Going over what they had was depressing enough. The bulk of their finances were tied up to pay for the bay. The ship, such as it was, belonged to them. And that had been the first big row – Day One of the new plan.
“Sell it. We need something newer, faster. Something that you don’t need to worry if it’s going to break up from gravity stress each time you hit into FTL.”
He had been sitting with Marche going over the team’s resources. Big lists on remote screens all over the walls. She shot up, her face snarling like he’d said something to insult her.
“It’s my ship. It’s all I got. If I sell we’d have to lease a ship and that’d eat more than we can raise from the work we got offering.”
Jaz ignored her snarling tone.
“The work you had offering. You might recall we agreed you’re not taking that kind of thing anymore.”
Marche had her fists tight and for a moment Jaz was calculating where he’d need to go to put her on the ground without hurting her too bad or damaging anything. But she didn’t attack. Just stood there glaring.
“So,, we spend out on a lease ship and pay for it with what?” She gestured to the bleak land beyond the dome. “Sand? ‘Cos that’s all we’d be left with. We’d not even be able to pay the rent on this place.”
“You would. Even at breakers’ prices your flying scrapheap’s going to be worth enough to keep this place and pay the lease on a decent ship for half a year – and get you some specialist gear. But, I’m thinking you’ll likely find some scrimping freetrader willing to pay over that base. Besides, you got no choice. That deathtrap is getting to the point it’s going to cost you more to run it for a year than it’s worth. It’s holding you back, like a fucking great stone.”
Marche looked like she’d run into a wall. “Specialist gear? You mean more than standard stuff?”
Jaz nodded, trying to put as much conviction as he could into his words. “That’s what you need. Something you can offer others can’t. Something you can make a name for. The big mistake most teams make starting up is doing what you’ve been doing – taking whatever’s on offer and not thinking strategically.”
She was gawping at him now, like she wasn’t sure if he was looped or genius.
“And if we don’t make enough money in them six cycles?”
Jaz shrugged.
“Then you know you’re not good enough to cut it, and you go find a decent team that’s already established and sign up with them instead.”
“But if we still had the ship -”
“You could turn freetrader instead. ‘Cos by that time, with the big advantage you got in having me along on this, if you can’t make it as a team you’ll never make it.”
He could see she was unhappy. Chewing it over like the remains from a day old synth-meal.
“And if I say no?”
Jaz shook his head.
“If you say no, I’ll still give you some basic training. But won’t bring you much. Maybe get you the chance to tag on some mediocre commander’s reserve list in the long run. That’s the closest you’ll get to what you want to be.”
She’d still baulked.
“I need to think. Ask the others. It’s not just my future.”
“Take the time you need. Just not too much of it.”
She hadn’t needed much. He’d still been going over the lists, checking prices, juggling figures and looking into what kind of work was most in demand – or at least most in demand and not going to get them all stint in the Specials if they got caught doing it.
Marche came back with the others close behind, looking like school kids being up for misbehaviour in front of the class. Jaz wiped off the screens and stared at them expectantly. Shit. Just standing there, freshfaced, they made him feel ancient.
“Well?”
“We’re in. We’ll sell the ship.”
Result.

From Iconoclast: Not To Be a Fortune’s Fools book by E.M. Swift-Hook

Brother Benedict loved the time he was permitted in the cloister. There he felt more spiritual. It was the one place he never doubted his vocation. 

When the King ordered the destruction of the monasteries, Brother Benedict became Roger Smith again. He was fortunate finding work in the household of the new owner who used the monastery as a house. So when he overheard the new lord arguing with his son they should demolish the cloister he was able to act.

Ever after, standing in the cloister, he was sure the blood that stained his hands left his soul untouched.

E.M. Swift-Hook

Things are not quite how you might remember them in the 100 Acre Wood for Christopher Robin, Pooh Bear and their friends…

***** ***** *****

Jane Jago

Writing made easy – if you don’t mind the bumps!

The wit, wisdom, joy and frustration of a writer’s life summed up in limericks…

There once was a writer called Jane
Who stared out of her window pane
At sunshine and showers
And quivering flowers
Which finally drove her insane.

Jane Jago

The tale of a bold knight, a valiant steed, an innocent maiden and a cunning dragon…

“I may have a plan.” Cicero spoke thoughtfully. “I think it covers all the bases. Firstly, we have to arrive at the stone together. You two can come down this ridge and I’ll circle around to approach from the other direction. When we get to the girl, Sir Barnabas can discover whether or not she is willing to be divested of her virginity.” He paused and passed a claw across his eyes. “Assuming the young woman is agreeable, I can cover the event with my wings. And I’m sure neither Salazar nor myself would wish to watch such an undignified procedure. Once the deed is done I will be able to touch the stone and return to my library. The rest of you will be free to do as you will.”
Salazar shook his mane but said nothing, leaving it to Barney to voice the question they were both asking in their heads.
“What if the girl is unwilling?”
“Then I will eat her.”
“And what of my companion and I?”
Salazar’s skin twitched and he stamped a forehoof. “I guess we go down fighting.”
“I suspect we might. But you could always run away. I wouldn’t blame you.”
“No. I know you wouldn’t. Which is why I can’t do it.”
Barney laid a hand on the arched neck. “If that’s how you feel we should give some thought to what we do in the aftermath if this plan goes to plan.”
“That might be tricky.”
Cicero coughed genteelly. “You could come with me.”
“Could we?”
“Yes. I have a very nice home. With room for friends.”
“What about your dragon chums? Who are generally very fond of horse meat.”
Cicero shuffled his feet and looked uncomfortable. “I don’t actually have any dragon ‘chums’. Regular dragons don’t have much time for vegetarian librarians.”
“Oh. Well. Umm. In that case.” Salazar swished his mane some more. Then he snapped his teeth together. “If we are going to do this thing, we should stop jawing and get on with it.”
Barney stretched until his joints popped and he and Cicero attempted a high five. The dragon waddled off in the opposite direction to the castle and spread his dun-coloured wings. He leapt into the air and the down draught all but brought Barney to his knees. Salazar swore, but sobered as Barney climbed awkwardly into the saddle. They set off down the spiny ridge at a careful walk, it not being safe to go any faster. When they reached the flat, green pastureland in which the Dragon Stone stood like a rotting tooth Salazar broke into a ceremonial canter while Barney sat upright in the saddle and tried to look noble.
Overhead the dragon circled and flamed, skilfully managing to make a good show for the watching castle without coming close to singeing his co-conspirators.
The trio arrived at the Stone together and Barney slid from Salazar’s back. Standing over the chained girl he brandished his broadsword so as to make it appear he was guarding her life.
Hs spoke without looking over his shoulder. “Can you hear me mistress?”
“Of course I can. I’m not deaf. And it’s Princess.”
“Oh right. Sorry. Well. Look. Umm. The thing is…”
Aurora studied the tongue-tied young giant with some approval. In another place and at another time, she thought, he might make a very presentable beau. But she did rather wish he’d spit out whatever it was he was trying to say.
Salazar took over. “Can you hear me?”
“I can. But you’re a horse so I shouldn’t be able to. Are you a hallucination?”
“No. I’m just a talking horse. And we’ve no time for idle chitchat. This is serious. We’re trying to save your life, but that requires your cooperation.”
“In these circumstances I’m all about cooperation.”
For a moment it seemed that even Salazar’s glib tongue had deserted him, but he coughed a bit and ploughed on.
“Do you know, young person, what it is about you that makes you possible dragon food?”
“Approximately. I mean. I’m young. Female. Not ugly. And…”
“And what?”
“And a virgin.”
“Precisely. You are currently a virgin.”
“Are you trying to tell me that all I have to do is discard my virginity I have a fighting chance of surviving this brouhaha?”
“I am.”
“You’re kidding me? That’s all it takes? ”
She narrowed her eyes and studied Barney’s broad back.
“That one will do,” she said firmly. “Except. What happens if he stops fighting off the dragon…?”
“You don’t need to worry about Cicero. Or you won’t if you can divest yourself of your inconvenient innocence. In fact he is prepared to shield you with his wings while the necessary happens.”

This adventure of Barney and Salazar will continue next week…

I didn’t ask to be born, and yet here am I
Gifted with life, but knowing I’ll die.
The thrice tainted gift that none can refuse
Brings suffering: fear, pain and abuse.
And so we must strive to keep those at bay
There can be no rest, just fight every day.
For how can you sleep at peace in your bed
Knowing another still needs to be fed?
How can you lie to yourself with each breath,
And feel any joy when another fears death?
Oh why do we live each in silent enclave
And not have a care for those we enslave?
For our lives are lived on the backs of the weak,
The poor, the downtrodden, those forced to be meek.
We claim to be proud and clever and strong,
But still do not see what we do is so wrong.
I didn’t ask to be born, and yet here am I
Gifted with life, but knowing I’ll die.

E.M. Swift-Hook

Suddenly she was free, thrown aside as her attacker released her abruptly. Lorelea gasped, still choking, and threw out her good arm to save herself as the ground came up hard. She skidded and tried to roll, hurting her hip in the process, gasping for breath desperately. Then a hand scooped under her elbow, lifting her back to her feet.
“We need to move. He’s down, but I think he might have called in back-up.”
The voice was male and familiar, though in the moment she couldn’t place it, but she didn’t fight as the man helped her rise and locked an arm under her shoulder so she was half lifted and half running away from the bay, but further into the more dilapidated area of the spaceport. 
Her breath had come back now and, willing to fight again if needed, Lorelea resisted being pulled along. The moment she did, the man released her, spinning them both behind a high-sided industrial storage bin as he did so. He was tall and had to crouch down to keep his head below the level of the rim where Lorelea could stand beside it.
Now she knew him. 
This was the man she had last seen on Hell’s Breath. The same ruffled dark red-brown hair, the same direct gaze. It was the CSF man who had interrogated her daughter and told Lorelea his name was Grim. He had been looking for Jaz too. The last time she had seen him it had been along the length of an old-style energy weapon she was holding, but presumably he wasn’t carrying a grudge about that. She could think of no reason why he would be here, but in that moment it didn’t matter. He might not be her first choice of ally, but he was one she could at least trust to get her out of the present mess she had walked into.
“Your place or mine?” he asked. “Mine is right round the corner.”
Lorelea saw the figure even as Grim reacted and started to turn, but too slow. She had been gripping the snub in her pocket and now, with no conscious thought, fired without pulling it free. The shot took her target in the gut and the woman who had come into view around the industrial bin, fired high before folding forward sharply and clutching at her abdomen. Then a second burst from the Grim made the woman’s body jerk once then go still.  Lorelea felt nothing. She knew she should be appalled. She had never killed anyone before, never fired a shot in anger, never…
“I’ll run,” Grim was saying. “Cover me as much as you can.”
She blinked and felt his hand grip her arm. She wanted to say she was not that good of a shot, that this was not any kind of situation she had been in before. But something in his expression told her he had figured that already. It was just either she or he had to go out there and he was the one volunteering. She pulled the snub out of her ruined pocket and nodded.
 A thump on the industrial bin was all the warning they had. A dull thump and the rapid mist rising. They had been lucky. Whoever had thrown it, the grenade had fallen short and it landed in the industrial bin, leaving them protected for a few moments from whatever gas or irritant the grenade had contained.
But Lorelea knew that whatever it was it could rise, disperse and affect them if they remained in place. And if they left the cover of the industrial bin together, without the other to provide some kind of cover, they would be easy targets. There was no other way to go, beside them was a solid wall.
Solid wall. 
Except for the slight depression in the panel at hand height.
Lorelea did not waste – or risk – a breath to explain. Instead she tagged Grim hard on one arm and pushed her hand onto the panel, feeling the mechanism give. The panel shifted slightly but not enough. Like everything else here, it was old and poorly maintained. Then Grim was behind her adding his strength to hers and the panel opened up. They were inside the dark service space and Grim heaved the panel back to seal them in and ran his snub’s energy field over the mechanism to fuse it shut. Unless whoever was after them knew the local service tunnel network well, they should have a chance.
The last service tunnel Lorelea had been in was well signposted by augmented labelling from the starport’s AI. This place had none. She had no idea which way would take them further into the dilapidated area and which would lead them out of it. Maybe Grim had a better sense of direction, or just had figured before she did that keeping still was the worst of the three options available. He had produced a narrow beamed flashlight and, putting a hand on Lorelea’s shoulder briefly, led the way along the narrow tunnel.
The air in the tunnel was dry and had an acrid tang to it. Their footsteps stirred a slight miasma of dust and Lorelea wondered where it had come from if these tunnels were so closed off and unused, hoping it didn’t betray their passage. The next exit along, Grim paused long enough to fuse the opening mechanism. Then shone the beam of his flashlight up so the darkness around them was banished.
“You alright?” He looked and sounded genuinely concerned.
“Yeah. But can’t you just call in some back up or something? You’re CSF, right?”
His expression blanked abruptly.
“Was. Long story and it’ll have to wait, we need to keep moving.” He turned away taking the light with him.
“Wait!”
There was one thing Lorelea needed to know, but Grim was already moving.
“We can talk later – when we’re safe.”
“I just want to know why you were there? How did you know, I was -?”
He turned back towards her and his face was wearing the impersonal mask again.
“I didn’t,” he told her. “I was just passing by. Now we need to move. Please.”
Grim fused the next exit panel shut too and soon after they reached a point where they could either continue on or take a ramp down. He shone the flashlight down the ramp into the dark.
“That goes to the automated freight level,” Lorelea said. “It’s fully automated. No place for humans.”
Grim looked across at her, his face distorted by shadows.
“You seem to know a lot about this.”
She shrugged. “Long story. But believe me, we don’t want to go that way.”
He nodded and shone the light along the tunnel ahead.
“Alright. I guess we keep on this way. At least with this all being AI dead they can’t track us in here. But depending who your friends were, they might have the exits covered.”
There was a slight interrogation in his tone.
“I don’t know who they are,” she said aware she was sounding defensive. “I was slipped the address for that Bay in Voltz. I’d just said I wanted to speak with someone who could help me find someone.”
“Who were you-?” Grim broke off and the light vanished. They could both hear the footsteps in the dark ahead. Lorelea felt an arm loop her waist and she was hurried down the ramp. The arm released her with a firm pressure indicating she should continue her descent and she obliged for a couple more paces then pressed herself against the wall and snub in one hand. 
The light played over the top of the ramp and finding nothing in its beam a figure appeared,silhouetted briefly, one arm extended with a snub ready. A moment later it fell away with a grunt. But the light remained hovering. Lorelea was almost bowled over when Grim spun and started running. He swept her with him and they were running down the ramp, the flashlight casting odd shadows as the ramp doubled back. 
If she had been in any doubt as to why, the muffled splut of a gas grenade exploding was all the explanation needed. Grim hit the door at the bottom and opened it in almost the same movement and then they were in the brilliant light. Blinded, Lorelea blinked and was still trying to adjust when her arm was grasped and she was steered at speed to one side.
The freight area was as she remembered it.
“The vehicles here -” she started to explain, but then broke off as right in front of them two trains of trailers appeared from either side, danced tightly round each other and shot off at right angles to where they had emerged. Lorelea was forced back, Grim beside her, pressed hard against the walls to avoid the one that spun towards them. Following its path, two figures had just emerged from the service door. One fired a quick snap of energy which burned the side of a container right beside her, then they had to retreat to avoid the freight themselves.
Her whole body shaking at the near miss, Lorelea barely felt a brief tug on her hand and Grim was already vanishing at speed around the sharp corner as she pushed herself away from the wall to follow. He waited for her to catch up and Lorelea felt a wash of fury at herself, banishing all other emotion. She wasn’t going to let herself be any kind of a problem here. She had this.

From Iconoclast: Not To Be a Fortune’s Fools book by E.M. Swift-Hook