She made to stand and I halted her with one hand. ‘Was it yourself who sustained me while I slept?’
‘It was, Great Lady.’
I pulled her head towards me and placed my fingers on each cheek and then on her forehead.
‘You are marked as under my protection now. It is a small thing, but all I have to give you.’
A reddish tear ran down her cheek. ‘Not so small to a Mother whose Mate has found another he likes better.’
‘Is that the case?’
‘It is lady. The copper coins your scribe paid me will ensure that the small one and I eat for another moon.’
I turned an inquiring face to my own Mate, who picked up my thought and smiled.
‘Where are you and the small one living?’ he asked. ‘The nest of the drones of my ex-mate’s household. They have been kind.’
‘There is room in this nest. We should have accepted a fertile female long since, but I have no desire for anyone but my Mate. Should you decide to come and live here, I will do my duty by you, but I will not pleasure you. Could you live under those circumstances?’
I thought the young Mother looked obscurely relieved, but she answered with proper modesty. ‘I could. If the Lady would not be made unhappy.’
‘I would not. Sister. How do they call you?’
‘Owl.’
‘Very well Owl. You shall be my nest sister. I am called Aaspa, you would say Swift Stinger, and our Mate is Aascko, Fast Killer.’
Owl looked as if tears were close once more, so I pulled her to me and caressed her smooth skin, feeling a response beyond sisterhood. Aha, I thought, that is how you are made little one. I spoke to her in my most honeyed of tones.
‘Be happy, small sister. And how is the little one called.’
‘He has no name. My Mate would not name him.’
She looked towards Aascko who showed his fangs in a gentle smile.
‘I name him Owlet until he grows enough to find his own name.’
Owl beamed at us, then turned to the care of her babe whom she wrapped in down and placed on a ledge to sleep.

From Aaspa’s Eyes by Jane Jago

Advice on growing old disgracefully from an elderly delinquent with many years of expertise in the art – plus free optional snark…

If you’re old then it’s time to begin
To think about how life has been
To look back and dream
Of what might have been
Not to set out and try every sin!

E.M. Swift-Hook

The door opened with such force that it bounced back off the wall, and Hywel stomped in. His face was puce and he was waving a sheet of paper. Seemingly unable to speak he threw the paper on the table in front of Julia.
She read it and could feel the blood draining from her own face. It was an official complaint that the family of one Hywel Llewellyn, non-citizen, had been observed to be visiting a sub aquila residence without due authorisation.
The Villa Papaverus was not their own house, it was the residence that went with Dai’s job as Submagistratus and was owned by Rome. As such it was designated sub aquila which meant only Roman citizens and those non-citizens employed to work there were legally permitted inside.
“Oh merda,” she said softly. “I never even thought of that. Dai hates having that wretched eagle above our door.”
She passed the paper to Caudinus who read it swiftly then sighed.
“I am so sorry, I should have seen that coming. As I didn’t, I shall have to investigate.”
Hywel made a noise like a cat that has just had its fur stroked backwards,
“Sorry? Sorry that me and my entire family are being criminalised by your filthy Roman rules?”
Caudinus looked at him severely. “Hush man. Be glad I didn’t officially hear you say that. As I said, I do have to investigate. So will you just be quiet and let me think. Or is shouting and blustering at a pregnant woman something you think a good idea?”
Hywel subsided slightly.
“If this goes through the fine will take most of my livelihood for the last quarter.”
“Oh it’s worse than that,” Caudinus said his expression grim. “The fine would be the lightest of penalties. If it were deemed to have been done in deliberate defiance of Roman authority it could be counted as treason. And this complaint names you, your wife Enya and your step-mother, Olwen.”
Julia felt sick. Dai’s mother, sister-in-law and brother were being placed in real peril through someone’s spite.
“Treason?” Hywel echoed, his tone hollow and slumped into a chair, the fire and fury suddenly deserting him. Treason always carried the death sentence –  a humiliating and agonising death in the arena.
Caudinus swept the printed emails into a pile and got to his feet.
“Yes, treason. But if I have anything to do with it, it won’t come to that and I will make sure you are issued with passes under my authority so there is not a problem ongoing.”
“Isn’t there something you can do to dismiss this?” Julia asked, “It is your legal jurisdiction after all.”
Caudinus pulled a face. “It will depend on the nature of the complaint and who the complainant is. It could go over my head to provincial level and those damnable bureaucrats in Augusta Treverorum.”  He touched Julia lightly on the shoulder. “You mustn’t worry about this, you hear me?” His tone was stern. She mustered a smile more for his benefit than because she felt reassured. “And you come with me Llewellyn, I need to get some details from you, if you can guard your tongue enough to manage a trip to Viriconium with me?”
Hywel struggled to his feet looking shamefaced and anxious.
“Uh – yes. I’m sorry, dominus. I know it’s not your fault.  I’m sorry, Julia too – it’s just that…”
Julia held out her arms and Hywel walked into them to receive a quick hug.
“It’s alright,” she said, letting him go, “but for Enya and Olwen’s sake and the children, you have to keep a lid on your anger over this.”
Hywel nodded and Julia felt a little more hopeful when Caudinus dropped her a wink over his head. A short time later she saw Caudinus’ hovercar gliding along the driveway.

Pushing her own fears to one side, Julia took the time to walk her two wolfhounds, Canis and Lupo, in the orchard, finding their cheerful company helped lift her mood. Then she returned to the house and with the two dogs sleeping by hearth, she opened her laptop and started composing an email to Hook-Beak explaining why she couldn’t leave Britannia at this time and probing for more information about his new married status. She was just thinking about how she could best raise the issue of Hywel’s case to see if, as Praetor, Hook-Beak could short-circuit the legal process in someway, when the sound of heavy footsteps made her look up in time to see the door burst open for the second time that morning.
Dai stood filling the doorway, his expression like a thundercloud fronting a storm. A cold and feral fire burned in his blue eyes that made Julia shiver despite herself.
“You are leaving. Today. Now.” His voice was almost a snarl. “I’ve sent for Elfrida to pack for you. Two of Gallus’ men and Edbert will be your escort. I have made arrangements. You can stay with Didero in Londinium, he has an entire legion of praetorians there to keep you safe.”
Julia opened her mouth and then closed it sharply to prevent the unforgivable, vile, words she so wanted to say from escaping. Instead she got demurely to her feet and walked over to her husband, drawing herself up to her full height of almost five feet.
“Oh you are so right, husband, I am leaving,” she said, keeping her tone sweet. “But not for Londinium. I am going where I choose to go not where you think to send me. And right now I am not at all sure that I will be coming back.”

From Dying for a Vacation by E.M. Swift-Hook and Jane Jago.

Big washed and hoovered his big car, took his goff sticks and his waders out of the boot and drove off.
“Where going?” Wee Willie wondered.
Brenda uttered a sarcastic huff of breath.
“He’s off to get his Chelsea Tractor.”
Numpty grinned. “I likes tractors.”
Mother Bigger must have had a premonition, because she sat on the patio inhaling gin as if it was going out of fashion.
The sound of a set of vulgar air horns announced Big’s arrival. Big and the biggest purple muscle truck you have ever seen.
Mother sighed and collapsed gently into the herbaceous border.

©️jj 2021

“You know why we have come here, Captain,” she said. It was a statement and not a question.
Caer shrugged lightly.
Of course he knew.
He knew exactly why the caravan had left the relative security of the road that morning on Alexa’s orders and made its way overland to the foot of this particular mithan. But in his mind was a Zoukai saying which had been drummed into him from the first day he had shaved his head and joined the brotherhood. It explained that the caravansi was the brain, the caravan the torso and the Zoukai the limbs, there to do the will of the brain. As a hand did not question the mind that moved it, so a Zoukai should not question the orders of his caravansi.
“It is your will, Honoured One,” he replied carefully. “It is what you commanded.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed.
“And that is truly all you think about it? I pay you to protect my caravan and you don’t even question why I would order it to leave the safety of the road in the heart of the Wastelands?” The woman sounded disbelieving. “Have I wasted my money and employed a fool?”
Caer felt himself flush and bit back hard on the humiliation and anger. The anger was at himself for not being able to say the right thing in the presence of his caravansi. He took refuge in simple honesty.
“I heard the thunder in the skies and saw the explosion on the mithan plateau last night, just before dawn,” he said. “So yes, I know why you ordered me to bring the caravan here, Honoured One.”
“And what did you believe it was Captain?” she asked. “Did you believe that the gods battled in the Wastelands? Or perhaps that it was an evil omen of doom?”
Her sarcastic tone pricked at his pride. He had heard – and silenced – the same stories last night from the ignorant fools in the caravan.
“I did not believe anything, I knew.” Realising that his tone was much too abrupt, he corrected himself quickly. “It was a space vessel, Honoured One. It landed on the plateau and then exploded.”
Alexa smiled suddenly, leaning forward to reveal more of her silken skin as she did so, her violet eyes burning with an intense excitement.
“Yes. And just think what that means, Captain,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper. “Weapons, power-cells – who knows what kind of a valuable cargo in the hold. But even if all it carried was destroyed by the explosion, surely there will be some of the rare metal we can salvage from its hulk.” She paused as if to let the possibilities form in both their minds, then said, simply: “I shall be rich.”
Rich was the truth of it.

From The Fated Sky the first part of Transgressor Trilogy, and the first book in Fortunes Fools by E.M. Swift-Hook.

Advice on growing old disgracefully from an elderly delinquent with many years of expertise in the art – plus free optional snark…

If you’re old then I say this to you
You should think about all that you do
You simply can’t get
With a man you’ve just met
On a pack pony to Timbuctoo!

E.M. Swift-Hook

In In a Quarter of a Second and the Glowing Rings by Anita Kirk, a group of teenagers who already had a time-travelling adventure to save people in the future, find themselves travelling through time again. They need to find a key that may or may not save the world, using many magical items such as a 3D map to help them find their way, rainbow buttons that may help them, jars with useful items inside, silver petals to transport them, pen wigs that help keep them safe, oil ball coins full of useful fluid, they also travel inside of a bubble under the water to a secret place, and they use reflectorglass eyes goggles to turn into who they like, there is also love in the air, they enter through crisp bags, and much more to save the world from the Windowirs.
Will the world be saved twice, and how will they manage to tackle all of the obstacles and major problems that are stopping them from achieving their goals?

The bowlers got more claps and wows than the opposition team.

The bowlers looked at Alf, uneasy whispering to each other, what a waste of time the game was to just win a pen each.

All the items that they had drawn on the paper started to come alive out of the paper appearing in front of them.

The bowlers stepped back like they were frightened , with their jaws dropping at what they were seeing, talking about how shocked they were, among themselves, how could this happen.

Alf asked both teams to enter inside their drawing, to pick an item or a piece out of their drawing for Alf and the audience to decide which team should win.

A Bite of… Anita Kirk                            

Do you see writing as an escape from the sorrows of existence, an exercise in futility, or an excuse to tell lies and get paid for it? Or is there another option…

I enjoy writing because it is my passion away from the real world.                                             

Have you ever written somebody you know into a book? A lover? A friend? An enemy?

I wrote my book thinking about my mum, she has written two children’s books and she inspired me to have a go at writing, and I found out that I love it, and up to know I have not written anybody that I know in my books.

If you could meet one person (alive or dead) who would you choose? And what would you talk about? And what do you bring d a gift?                                                        

I would love to speak with my grandparents again and ask them about what they went through in the war and write about their experiences, but it is too late because they are in heaven.

Anita Kirk lives in the United Kingdom. She loves line dancing, swimming, writing, television programs, films, gardening, holidays, socialising, walking and reading. Her other books up to now are Christmas Sparkles and Sexy Shenanigans. She has got many more books to come that will be available soon.
Anita works full time and enjoys writing in her spare time. She loves reading any new reviews showing that people are enjoying reading her books, it gives me so much pleasure. You can find her on Facebook, Twitter and Goodreads.        

The biggers were arguing about caravans. It was four to one for a hugely expensive silver bullet.
In the end Big gave in.
“Okay, okay. Have your style statement. But it means I have to change the car for something with enough bollocks to tow it.”
Mother was sceptical. “Are you sure?”
He put a hairy forefinger on a line of print in the brochure.
“Yep. Says so there.”
The gnomes listened avidly. Was Big actually going to win a point?
Mother sighed. “Okay. But no Range Rover.”
“As if I would.”
Brenda winced. “He’s up to summat. You’ll see…”

©️jj 2021

Because life can be interesting when you are a character in a video game…

Milla had given up trying to understand all the Visitors said and focused on what really mattered.
“Yes, but String…”
“Is a healer.”
String nodded enthusiastically. “I’m a canting chanter. Mostly HoTs, some wards. Can wear chain and use two-handers.” He reached to his back and drew a huge double handed sword from nowhere. It pulsed with runes and had a blue flame that danced up and down the full length of the weapon from the skull-shaped pommel. “Yep. See it and weep Pew. I gave this toon a legendary blade.”
“I thought they were an OP pet class?”
String grinned and made a gesture into the air. A black boar with steel tipped tusks and wearing some kind of harness, armoured with plates of obsidian and onyx, popped into existence beside him, then stood there snarling at no one in particular. “Yup. Total OP class.” String’s expression was close to ecstatic “Tank pet. Two-handed melee. Uber-heals. What’s not to love?”
“Do we have to take him?” Milla asked, wondering if it were possible for a ryeshor to puff his chest out quite so far and still breathe.
“Much as I hate to say so, we could really do with heals and a tank pet would be useful too. Trying to root and nuke a boss could be tricky, they tend to be immune, and can’t really kite mobs in enclosed spaces.”
Milla still wavered. Yes, she was new to venturing and these Visitors had much more experience that she had, but the thought of having to put up with the two of them talking gibberish was almost more than she could bear. Then she thought of Ruffkin. If he was hurt he might need healing.
“Alright. You can come then.” She gave String her two-eyed One Eye glare. “But no more spitting.”
“Deal!” String executed a sharp salute and his spikey crest shot up vertically. “Canter Chanter Stringvestheals at your service fair Lady Milla.”
Pew rolled his eyes and turned to stomp off towards the unguarded gate. Milla extended her stride to catch up.
“Is he your friend?” she asked.
“Not really.” Pew sighed. “Well sort of. We’ve been guildies since vanilla.”
“Vanilla?” It was one of Milla’s favourite flavours.
“Yeah. Before the devs had their first massive egostorm and fragged it all up.”
His tone made Milla wonder what kind of cataclysm that had been.
“Was that a long time ago?”
Pew snorted as they went through the gate. “You could say that. Anyway, after that he stalked me. Mention any MMORPG and we’ve probably been there.”
“What’s an Ememoharpeegee?”
Pew stopped by the imposing door to the pyramid, tracing the serpentine decoration on it with the end of his staff. In the centre of the design was an odd shaped keyhole. Pew frowned, clearly distracted by that as he answered her.
“They are like this. Only different. Different worlds. Different magic systems, combat systems. Different lore.”
Milla’s thoughts went back to what One Eye had said about Visitors coming from a different universe. Perhaps he had been right.
“You’ll need this,” String said helpfully, holding up a large golden key. “Body drop from the gate guard.”
Pew’s arm holding his staff froze in place and he turned his head to stare at String.
“You soloed the gate guards?”
String puffed his chest again and preened “What can I say? OP class.”
Milla took the key from his outstretched hand and examined it. “This is the same as the inlays on the polearms they left those by the gate. You removed it from one of those.”
String looked completely unembarrassed. “Did I say I got it any other way? Not my fault if Pew leaps to the wrong conclusion.”

We will return to Wrathburnt Sands by E.M. Swift-Hook next Sunday.

Wrathburnt Sands was first published in Rise and Rescue: A GameLit Anthology.

Sonnets on sunsets, and quatrains delightful
Odes to beloveds and limericks frightful
Poetic thinking that dances and sings
These are a few of my favourite things

Perfectly pitched prose and vocabulary
Fiendish acrostics to trap the unwary
Tender love stories whose heroines cling
These are a few of my favourite things

When the plot stinks and the words ming
When the Internet’s down
I simply remember my favourite things
And then I forget to frown…

©jj 2021