Are you known by another name?

Now I’m not looking for a list of aliases you may have available to you in the world of international espionage, although if there are any spies out there reading this, your secrets are safe with me, rather this is an exploration of the nickname.

I’ve had a few nicknames over the years.

I was known by Snowball, I didn’t drink when I started playing club cricket and that was the suggestion of a drink that the rest of the team had to get me started. As Fingers, I kept breaking my fingers when I was playing rugby in the late 90’s. I was The Elg with my friends until a throw away line from my dad made me the Son of Elg which my friends grabbed onto with vibrant gusto. I guess I’m The Elg again now. And currently at work, I go by Captain, not because of any seniority, rather because I’m a Star Trek Fan.

All of those nicknames came along because people recognised something about me, a trait that everyone knew about and could use to describe me. They all represent a shared shorthand for a group about one of its members and as such allows everyone to share in a specific detail that marks them out from everyone else.

A nickname, a pet name, they represent a level of familiarity. They show that someone has seen something about you. Granted, that may not be a trait that you may want to have highlighted but it’s something that everyone else can see.

That nickname is a potentially defining characteristic and it’s not something that should simply be ignored.

In my second novel, The Circle of Duty, one of the characters is given a nickname by the protagonist, becoming Leatherpants. It’s a description of what he wears but it’s also meant to create a level of absurdity. The character is at odds to the hero of the piece and the hero wants to be dismissive of him, thereby giving him the nickname. It allows that the main character removes a great level of the power that came with the person who was given the name.

A nickname is a shorthand moniker for someone, which can be bestowed with a smile or a snarl. It can be a great thing or, well, not so much. I guess the difference between the two is whether or not you know about it.



It’s Christmas day so rather than create a usual blog post for everyone, I’ve decided to give everyone a gift of my own.

Here’s the latest short story from my collection and it sits after the events of The Circle of Duty and before the events I’m currently working on in book three of the Circle series, The Circle of Stars.



Have you ever moved house?

I have.

When you find yourself in the new environment you can’t help but look back fondly at the old location and think of all of the good times that happened there. Every time you hear your old home town mentioned on the news you can’t help but pay just a little more attention to what was taking place.

Now I’d moved from the metropolis of London, to the slightly more ‘out of the way’ South Wales so there tended to be mentions of London on the news quite often but recent life within The Circle had added in the extra layer of interest which comes with instances of the supernatural.

I’d just jumped all of my estate’s forces back home to Wales from somewhere in Africa and I was done in. There’d been so much fighting recently that all of the different locations around the world we’d been to were kind of bleeding together which, considering that included jungle, desert, city and ice field you can see that I truly was done in.

Climbing the steps at the front of the mansion I felt as if the weight of the world was sat squarely on my shoulders. Every inch of my body ached from a co-ordinated attack on a newly established stronghold of some kind of creature that despite lots of help, I still couldn’t pronounce, but that wasn’t the worst part about it.

As the troops all marched quickly back into the house either to the infirmary or their rooms, that now all too familiar gnawing sensation was buried deep in my stomach. We’d just wiped out a vast colony of whatever they were called, all under the banner of saving the world, but at no point had there been any kind of aggressive action from our would be enemies. Instead, we’d been the ones taking on the role of the aggressor. All in the name of the protection of the human race, we’d jumped ourselves, two Guardians and their forces, into what was barely a shanty town in the middle of nowhere and ripped the place apart.

As you’d expect there had been a response from our enemies that tried to match ours but despite what could only really be called a bloody nose in terms of injuries to our party, we’d overwhelmed them quickly and with the utmost brutality.

Add to that the fact that my former teacher and, I thought possible partner, Andrea, was avoiding me completely – even to the point of refusing to be a part of any missions which I was, that feeling of being done in had nothing to do with exertion but with the ever growing weight of guilt that I was dragging around with me.

Finally arriving at the top of the stairs, I found Mark, my massive general, waiting for me.

“Welcome home, my Lord. A successful campaign?” His voice was its usual basso rumble but I could feel the question more as a comment on the performance of his troops in his absence.

I humpfed and continued walking. I had too much on my mind.

“Sir?” enquired Mark as I passed by, no doubt worrying that he’d somehow displeased his lord and master. Sighing at the futility of our positions, I beckoned him to follow me towards my rooms at the top of the house.

Taking my armour off with as much grace and poise as I could manage, not wanting to too greatly destroy the image Mark had of the lord of the manor, I tried to explain to my colleague exactly what I was feeling.

“Mark, what do you do for relaxation? What are your hobbies?” I’d been a part of so much since joining the fray but I was feeling more and more each day, the weight that came with my role, and with it a detachment from those people around me. Everything was built on the single premise of the protection of the human race from the creatures that would tear it down.

Mark didn’t answer and his expression creased in thought. Finally he replied.

“I enjoy my role within The Circle, sir.”

He spoke without any fear of the words being somehow wrong. He spoke with just the slightest hint of question, as if it would be self evident that he say what he did. Obviously he enjoyed what he was doing. What more was there to say?

Still unhooking the multitude of plates which comprised my armour, I could immediately feel frustration. I was finding it more and more each day as every step we all took seemed to always have that ever so slight shadow of moral ambiguity to it and I swear that it was only me who could even recognise that the shadow was there. I asked again.

“Beyond your roles in the fighting or the cooking. When you’re not doing those things, what do you do to relax? To unwind after a long day of protection?”

Mark’s expression remained the same.

“I train, sir. Magically, physically. And culinarily.” He tried a smile but it just didn’t look comfortable.

“But what beyond that?” My frustration at my friend was rising again.

“There’s nothing beyond that though, sir?” Now he frowned. “Isn’t the protection of the whole human race enough for one life?”

I just stopped fishing and resigned myself to further circular arguments. I really was in The Circle after all. It’d been the same from everyone since I’d taken my first faltering steps into the service within The Circle but I’d hoped that by now there would have been at least some movement. Instead, one of the men I was able to call my friend was either totally immersed in what he was doing in his job so he had nothing beyond it, or I just still knew nothing about him because I was his master and he my servant.

I clenched my fists at the futility of it all, the social programming all the way through to the questions of ethics, and tried to force my mind away from the anger in my head.

Mark took the final pieces of my battle dress and turned to head out of the room to return them to storage when I stopped him.


He stopped immediately and span to face me again, his face a calm mask of neutrality.

“That’s not acceptable.”

Now he looked worried. Time to use the system to my advantage.

“We are the guards of the whole human race and that includes all of us as well. I expect that everyone will be using the life that we protect for more than just their jobs. Do you understand?”

Silence thickened the air as Mark did his best to find the appropriate way to respond.

I moved forward and clasped his arm by way of reassurance.

“We’re all doing what we do to keep the world safe but that should never mean that we’re totally apart from it. We never forfeited the right to enjoy the fruits of our labour.”

Mark tried harder still to find the correct response. Still nothing.

“Look Mark. The world’s a massive place which holds the most beautiful wonders and, as we know, the worst horrors, imaginable. We see the latter all of the time, so why not take a second to at least acknowledge the former?”

“I see.” He was trying his best.

“Look, all I want is to have a handful of minutes out of the world that is The Circle and to relax into the normality of what everyone else gets to see on a daily basis. And I want a friend to go with me.”

“I see,” he repeated but it didn’t sound that he did. I’ll give him credit though, he was saying something which didn’t prove his position in any direction. Very non-committal. Just how uncomfortable was I making him?

“You and I are going for a pint,” I declared with enthusiasm.

Mark’s face didn’t register any opinion of the statement, his eyes simply blinking once as he again struggled with the same internal question.

“I see,” he stated after another pause, though with a tone of uncertainty and fear.

Still a work in progress.

“Go and get changed and I’ll meet you on the steps at the front of the house in twenty minutes.”

He bowed deeply and was out of the room before I could say anything else. Heading towards the shower I was beginning to mull over the potential details of what a quiet pint with Mark could really be.

“What’s the worst that can happen?”

I made my way down the stairs a mere fifteen minutes later, dressed in what I hoped was the effortless casual style which just screamed that I was just like everyone else. Mark was already at the door waiting for me and his dress sense was a little different. He was wearing a very official looking charcoal grey suit.

“Is this you trying to relax?” He just maintained that flat expression and nodded slightly.

“Not quite what I was expecting for two fellas just going for a drink but I suppose you could have come straight from the office.” I was suddenly feeling under dressed and this whole thing had been my idea.

“Do me a favour big guy. Take your tie off at least, this is supposed to be relaxing, not anything official.”

“I see,” he answered and casually removed the tie with a deft flick of his wrist.

We climbed into one of the cars outside the house, a sporty Mercedes of some shape, and I put my foot down, heading us along the winding drive way and the world beyond. I’d eschewed the use of a Cascade Bridge in favour of the more ‘usual’ mode of transport to show Mark that the time we were about to have to ourselves was going to be more normal than magical but that said I was already fully planning on leaving the car outside wherever we ended up and bridge jumping us home after a few snifters.

After a few miles of winding roads, the straighter ones followed and I could feel the burble of excitement rising in me at the thought of what was coming. Not that I’m some kind of raging alcoholic you understand, rather I recognise the power for healing that talking over a drink with a friend can bring.

Finally, we arrived.

I’d aimed for the centre of Neath as a decent place to start. Not too small that we’d stick out as not being locals but also not too busy that you get swept into the masses. All in all it looked like a pretty decent place to unwind.

Making my way around the small streets, I was doing my best to locate somewhere to park but as with almost every town or city these days, residents only parking seemed to be all that was on offer. After the third circuit, I was getting a little cheesed off.

“Well this is a great start,” I moaned absent-mindedly, turning the car round and starting into circuit number four.

“You don’t have to look for a specific place to park you know. Leave the car wherever is easiest for us and I can have a member of the staff arrange for whatever steps may need to be taken.” Mark replied. He hadn’t even been directing the comment at me as such, rather he just spoke into the car, as if giving the correct answer to a posed query.

“Whatever steps may need to be taken? What does that mean?” A bit too sinister for parking surely?

“That should the car be ticketed, be towed away or should we be in need of someone else to drive the car back, we have the facilities to resolve any and all eventualities.”

Interesting indeed.

Time to put this to the test.

Armed with the knowledge that I was free of responsibility for any parking indiscretions, I started out small.

Pulling the car into a side street, I slid into one of the many ‘residents only’ spaces and turned off the engine. Close enough to the pub that we wouldn’t have to walk far but also not parking like an utter knob and daring someone to complain.

By the time we entered the pub, the evening crowd was already starting to build. I hadn’t been expecting much in the way of crowds, it being a Tuesday, but by the looks of things, there was some sporting event taking place on the TV which had a pretty sizeable group watching. I had a quick check but it wasn’t rugby.

To the bar.

The woman behind the bar greeted us with a smile and did the very slightest double take when she looked at Mark. There was no denying that a seven foot tall, heavily muscled man would be out of the ordinary almost anywhere, but she didn’t dwell on any kind of fear.

“Evening boys. What can I get you?” She spoke with a casual confidence that had no doubt come from years working in this trade. She looked to be in her late thirties and had the baring of someone who’d had to deal with more than a few drunks in her time. Standing a shade over five feet and built strongly, she looked as if she’d been born to be a pub landlady. Her name badge declared her as the Assistant Manager and that she was called Steph.

“I’ll have a pint of lager,” I replied before turning to Mark, “and my friend will have ……..”

He missed his cue.

“Mark. What do you want to drink?” I poked his arm but still there was nothing. He just stood there, his eyes scanning madly over every label on every bottle, his brow furrowing more and more by the second. I cursed myself for a very basic oversight. He didn’t know what he wanted to drink. He’d never done this before so he had absolutely zero understanding of what he should say next. Nice one Anthony.

“And my friend will have the same,” I finished for him.

His shoulders sagged at the release of the tension of choosing a drink and he did his best to fix an apologetic smile for Steph as she set about pouring. By the way she was moving she’d already forgotten about his indecision, happy to get the order and to move on to the next.

Handing over the cash, I picked the drinks up and handed one to Mark.

“There you go. Get your laughing gear around that.” I was quickly reverting to the persona I’d had way back when all of this magic and Dragons was just a fairy tale. You take on different behaviours dependant on where you are and here I was, just having a pint with a mate.

Mark clutched the glass in one gargantuan hand, his index finger and thumb able to meet, making the glass look like nothing more than a child’s toy.

“This is lager?” he asked as he considered what I’d given him.

“It is. Now have a drink, that’s the best part you know,” I replied and took another swig of my own.

He considered it, paused, then took a testing sniff, before delicately raising it to his lips and imbibing the most dainty of sips.

I almost spat my own mouthful all over him. All it needed was for him to raise his pinky finger to really sell the point.

I struggled to gulp down the drink to at least allow me the chance to laugh at him a bit but was beaten to it.

“It’s a pint of Troll Nectar,” he declared and without a second thought, dumped the whole pint down his throat as if he’d been a highly trained professional speed drinker. Less than two seconds, and the glass was empty.

“Another?” he asked brightly and started looking to attract Steph’s attention.

“What? Where the Hell did you learn to do that? Two minutes ago you were stuck choosing what to order and now you throwing them back like it’s been second nature all along? Explain please?”

He looked terrified.

Again, he’d just done something that the Master of the estate wasn’t expecting and knew nothing about so now he was panicking that he’d somehow insulted me.

“I meant no offence my Lord, merely that I have tasted this drink before, though never have I heard it described as ‘lager’ before.” He raised his glass, as if to emphasise the point. “This is Troll Nectar and is something I’ve enjoyed a great many times when collecting some of our more unique supplies for the kitchens.”

And suddenly, there was more information. Whatever he’d been doing over the years, he’d gone for a drink before. Though the location of that drinking sounded to be a little off the beaten track.

“What unique supplies do you collect?” I prodded. This seemed more than a little odd.

Mark still looked concerned but at least he’d shed the utter terror.

“Food and drink, mostly,” he replied with the tone of a man who was walking on very thin ice. “I’ve been buying and selling goods like Mr. Christian did before me.”

Sounded harmless enough.

“What kind of things do you buy? Just stuff you can’t get in the usual supermarkets? Local meat etc?”

He considered the possible wording for the answer.

“Of a kind, my Lord,” he was still dancing around the point despite the fact all I wanted to know was a bit more about the life of my friend.

“We bring in and maintain a store of very specific supplies in readiness for the arrival of members of other parties or groups. We exhausted our rather extensive supply of four week aged, rotted tree bark, beetles still alive, following the fighting in Bress Tal. The Tayne don’t feast in the same way we do.”

His words were factual, almost boring in their delivery but the mention of Bress Tal felt more akin to a scorching axe to the chest. My poker face must have been getting better as Mark didn’t pick up on my pain.

Bress Tal had been a victory in the wider context of what had taken place but watching Em, The Messenger, sacrifice herself whilst almost dooming another, will always be something that will haunt me. The big picture must be considered but I was finding that the detail of that picture was tough to stomach.

Keep on the surface, don’t dwell on the pain. Going for a pint was a good thing.

“And you have a drink when you go there? Are you encouraged or expected to join in?”

“Most certainly. It is the expected behaviour when undertaking the task so I have always been at pains to behave in a certain way.”

Interesting. So far, all I’d heard about The Circle was that we had a mighty role to play in the protection of the human race, but that we were the biggest and baddest that were out there. I’d never really stopped to consider the fact that the mansion and all of the people in it would have to be managed and maintained just like anywhere else, and that old saying of ‘an army marches on its stomach’ clearly came from somewhere. I’d just assumed that magic was the answer to all of the feeding and watering needs. Clearly not.

“And you stick to the behaviour etiquette? Why hasn’t The Circle just taken what we need when we need it?”

Mark tilted his head at the thought, very much akin to an inquisitive dog. It reminded me of Em again.

“The supply chains for all that we need are not always easy to maintain and it has proved to be easier to show deference than to fight. The Circle don’t like to waste power on simple food.”

Made sense. Why waste energy and resources on a fight that would just make life tougher even if you won? There was logic to the thinking but that seemed to be at odds with everything that had been happening in terms of the ‘public’ appearance of The Circle. So far they’d been more we’re the power so we do what we want.

“So this place is a market?” Back on track.

He considered his words again but now it was without the previous fear.

“It’s a place where you can acquire, exchange and explore all manner of things, of tastes. It’s less a market, more a meeting place where anything and everything can take place.”

“And there’s a bar?”

“There is indeed, and it has a much wider selection of beverages to explore than are on display here.” Mark had clearly seen some amazing things at this place, wherever it was.

“Then you’re taking me along the next time you go on one of your shopping runs. I suspect that this is a place I could do with knowing more about.” I winked at him and took another drink. This mystery location was very interesting indeed.

His expression dropped and his eyes widened to saucers.

“You couldn’t possibly attend my Lord. I could never take someone such as you to a place like, that.” The emphasis he placed on the final word showed clearly what he really thought of the trading place. Despite all that we’d seen together, he was still falling back into the tried and tested routine of making sure that the master of the estate would never be sullied by attending somewhere so very menial and therefore, beneath them.

I wasn’t having that.

“Come on,” I protested and did everything I could not to come off sounding like a petulant child. “This is exactly the sort of thing that I need to understand if I’m going to do what I do properly. Besides, having a place to go to unwind is an often overlooked necessity.” The ball was now back in his court.

“Attending this place is not something which the wider community of The Circle would be pleased to discover at the best of times but taking the Guardian there would be completely beyond acceptable. Please my Lord, I cannot take you.”

That was more interesting. Not only didn’t he want to take me to such a low place, but he also didn’t want to let anyone else in The Circle know that he’d been going there at all. Very interesting indeed.

“So let me see if I understand what you’re saying.” Let’s see what we can see. “You go to a place you potentially shouldn’t be going to, in search of all kinds of foods etc. and you’re afraid of taking the Guardian of the estate with you because the place you go to is too, seedy?”

Mark didn’t look well. I’d put him on the spot with the question and he was now feeling the full weight of all of the perceived expectation of my position bearing down on him. I did feel guilty about doing this but if I could show him that I wasn’t going to rip his head off because he’d been doing something a little questionable, maybe he’d be more comfortable in the long run.

He responded as best he could.

“I meant to say that I wish to protect you from exposure to that place. As my master, you shouldn’t have to be involved in such menial tasks or their locations.”

I’ll say this for my giant general, he was certainly getting better at standing his ground in the name of The Circle but I was still going to that location.

“Thank you for looking out for me but believe me, I’m more than capable of looking after myself, and besides, I can just order you to take me you know.” I cocked an eyebrow to try and show I was joking with the order comment. It seemed to work as Mark’s posture relaxed slightly and his expression softened.

“Very well my Lord,” he replied and bowed his head ever so slightly. I think Steph caught it but no-one else.

“Excellent stuff. The next time you go on a shopping trip, I’ll be there with you.” It felt positive to have the idea that there was somewhere new to go and more detail to paint into the picture of this world.

“We could go sooner than that should you wish my Lord?”

“Really? When do you suggest?” Hoping I knew what he was about to say.

He frowned at the question, yet another example of me not knowing something I should have done?

“We can go now. You have had less than a single pint so you should be safe to drive.”

“Drive? Where is this place?” I didn’t fancy having to drive hundreds of miles but I also would have thought that I would have heard of any magical meeting place which was close by.

“It’s just down the road from here, maybe ten minutes drive.”

My drink was on the bar, still half full and I was heading for the door even before Mark had finished his sentence. We were that close to something that was that chock full of all things magical. There was a place where, as Mark had described it, the world I was used to met the magical lands of The Circle. It was a place where I could be both, Anthony Johns, Personal Trainer and Anthony Johns, Guardian of The Circle. That sounded exactly like the kind of place I needed right about now.

“So where’re we going?” I called over my shoulder as Mark fought to catch up.

“I’ll direct you in but head towards Cwmgwarch. We’re going to the Valley of the Witch.”


Now I’ll admit that I was a little excited.

Who wouldn’t be?

I was being directed to a place that seemed to hold all of the possibilities of a middle ground for the two worlds I inhabited and therefore had the potential to salve a spiritual wound I’d been picking at ever since I’d been introduced to all of this. I’d be able to have a relaxing drink surrounded by people and creatures who knew all about the magical landscape that surrounded us all and not have to worry about accidently revealing everything that I was. I could be the Guardian and still just kick back in a drinking establishment as a way of letting off steam. I’m pretty sure my uncle David would have been over the moon if he’d known I was going to do this.

Which made me think.

“Mark,” I asked as I pushed the car hard along the main road towards our destination. “Did my uncle ever come here?”

“I am unaware of the wider movements of the former Guardian I’m afraid my Lord. When he was in role, I was a mere functionary so was very far from ever knowing anything more than the widest details of campaigns and the like.” Mark’s response was measured as he relayed the facts but there was still that hint of apology that he wasn’t able to give his master what he wanted. I’d have to ask Mike when we got back to the mansion.

Eventually, after me jumping the gun on the directions Mark was giving, and sending us down cul-de-sac after cul-de-sac, he told me to pull in to a small lay by, proclaiming that we had arrived. Turning the engine off and looking around, I was sceptical. There was nothing around us but fields, bushes, the road which had been shrinking all the way up here, and what looked like a gate to quarry or the like?

“We’re going in there?” I gestured beyond the gate, hoping that this wasn’t going to mean that I was going to end up wandering about a muddy field.

“We are,” Mark confirmed brightly and vaulted the gate.


I followed him but was a little more careful when climbing the gate. The last thing I needed was to find myself up close and personal with the after effects of a cow’s dinner.

Happily, we didn’t have to travel that far into the depths of nature before we arrived.

One minute we were making our way through the great outdoors and the next we were surrounded by small buildings and a wide variety of people and, indeed, not people. I recognised a similar magic to that which was encasing the prison site under Neath Abbey and felt the tingle of power as we passed through the barrier to the world of the interior.

The buildings inside were all stone built and looked as if they’d been there for a great many years. Placards, flags and other types of sign adorned the outside of each of these establishments, all giving some kind of clue as to the contents or purpose of the buildings. Some I could work out as being smiths of different kinds, some looked to be all about different potions and lotions and by the noise from at least two of them, some were clearly drinking establishments.

“So which is the best place for a drink?” I asked, my eyes bouncing from glowing doorway to glowing doorway, with my feet already inching me towards the nearest option. I was feeling like a kid at Christmas.

“We have quite a way to go into the compound until we arrive where I’m taking you my Lord. These are not places you would wish to spend a great deal of time as a first visit.” He paused to look me in the eye before continuing. “These establishments are of far too low a quality for a Guardian of The Circle.”

He marched off purposefully into the irregular lanes and pathways of the place, and as I followed him, it was only now that I could make out just how many other shacks and hovels there were all around us. There was a thick mist squatting over every inch of the surrounding streets and alleys which not only obscured the sights but also the sounds around us, deadening the environment around us. This place was clearly massive and it instinctively drew out a feeling of subtle threat in me. It wasn’t as such that I felt that there was going to be trouble, rather that due to the clearly high numbers of people around me and the environment they were all crammed into, there was a better chance that I’d be crossing paths with someone who may be on the lookout for something violent. Add to that what Mark had said about this place being a trading station for almost anything and the sheen of going for a drink was quickly turning into a potentially very risky idea.

“In for a penny …………” I muttered to myself and continued to walk, exuding as much self confidence as I could drag together. Dragon or not, I was very new to this.

We’d walked less than ten feet before I sensed the problem. It wasn’t my spinning head magical spidey-sense, rather, that feeling we all get from instinct, when we just ‘know’ that something is off. Flicking my eyes back and forth, hunting for anything and everything I could imagine, I became aware of eyes on me from all directions. Some were glowing brightly, pin pricks in a shadowed window, while others were sunken voids, empty within the tortured faces of those who watched on. There may have been the smallest handful of shapes moving around the streets as we’d entered the location, but now I was really looking, I could pinpoint that there were a massive number of beings crammed into any and all space, and all of them seemed to be tracking me.

“Keep calm Anthony,” I whispered to myself. My rational mind knew that I could do some real damage as my huge red Dragon form but being the centre of attention like this was making my rational mind want to hand over the reins to irrational mind and just run. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea after all?

“Mark,” I called into the mist. “Does the attention always happen when you come here?”

“Attention?” he replied, clearly not sure what I meant. “No, this is very new,” he finished as he’d clearly taken in all of the details I had. In a flash, he was at my side with his hands raised to a defensive posture, that familiar blue fire wreathing his balled fists.

“What do they all want? Never seen a Guardian before?” My attempt at levity was more for my good than anyone else’s.

“It was a mistake to expose you to this place. I am sorry my Lord, but it would appear that we must leave.”

What? Already? We’d only just got here and all of a sudden we were being pushed away by the first crowd we came into contact with? The idea that I was suddenly in mortal danger so should run just put my back up.

“Leave? I’m not going to be scared away at the first sign of curiosity.” I stepped out from behind Mark and raised my hands in what I hoped would be understood as a gesture of no harm.

“I’m not here to hurt anyone. I’m only here to see this place and everyone in it.” I was speaking slowly and clearly, making sure that there could be no come back if it did kick off. I was friendly and just one of the guys, not any trouble. I’d only act to defend myself.

From within the mist, I could hear hushed voices creaking and rasping as there were myriad discussions about what I’d just said.

“I do really believe that we should leave this place and allow them all to return to whatever they were doing before we arrived.” Mark was on edge again but in a way that he didn’t seem embarrassed by. He was preparing for a fight and this was clearly an arena he was familiar with.

“Guardian,” was belched out in a deep roar from a rundown hut directly before me. I couldn’t see anything through what was passing as a door and window but there was a slimy, squelching, dragging sound coming from within which suggested that there was something very large filling all of the available space. The ‘Guardian’ call was then repeated by a small, sharp voice behind me which brought to mind fragments of broken glass, then by a third voice, this one shaking and hissing the word from a position which seemed to be above me.

More and more voices joined the call, repeating that single word again and again and again. Each added to the layers of sound and each and every one cast the word as an accusation, singling me out as the focus of their ire.

That thought made me mad. Not just angry, but violently furious, that these creatures had decided that they wanted to have some kind of violent confrontation. Didn’t they know who I was? Well they must have done, they were all calling me Guardian.

Mark announced into the murk, “I am a familiar visitor to this place. I have shown that I respect the laws here and my Master is sworn to the same pact. Let us be in peace and we shall leave this place.” He was still dead set on appeasement then.

In response, the voices started up again, though this time they were chanting the single word in unison. The word drummed a constant rhythm around us and I swear that I could feel the power of that call through my chest.

“GUARDIAN. GUARDIAN. GUARDIAN,” just stomped in place, forming an almost tangible barrier to our progress.

Well if they were going to start a fight I was more than willing to oblige them.

Raising my hands before me, I called fire to my mind and a wall of roaring orange flame blasted skyward in a ring, circling Mark and I. The chanting stuttered as fear spread throughout the crowd but was quick to recommence.

I held the fire for a further second before releasing it and it fell back to the ground with an audible thud, leaving behind a scorched and smouldering patch around us. Sporadic flames still flickered and danced as fuel on the ground was consumed and it cast out light enough for me to begin to see the faces of the nearest members of the gathered crowd and what I saw chilled me.

There were all manner of creatures wedged together in that crowd. Some giant, others far from it, some clothed, others very far from it and some carrying weapons and others with weapons as a part of their anatomy. But the chilling factor was that there were at least the same number of humans mixed into the mass as well.

I was here to see the sights and yet I was being confronted. I was a Guardian of The Circle yet there was a crowd of humans, those I was sworn to protect, the very reason for The Circle itself, who were standing against me.

In that instant, my anger flickered in my mind, usurped by confusion.

They all knew.

Every being surrounding me knew that I was the Guardian yet all of these people didn’t seem to care. It’s not that I was expecting a fawning, servile crowd, I just wanted to have a pint and somehow I was hated.

I hadn’t even been aware of any spinning early warning before the small stone hit me in the side of the head. I’d been aware of the whistling sound and then there was an explosion of white before my eyes, and pain in my temple. Through the immediate confusion, I could quickly make out the blood starting to flow down the side of my face.

I’d been attacked and for nothing more than being there. One of the creatures had launched a missile at me. I couldn’t entertain the thought that it had been one of the humans but either way the end result had been the same.

Shaking my head to try and force my focus back into place I was dimly aware of Mark nudging me away from the crowd with his back to me. He was shouting into the misty air as he kept himself between me and the mob, barking out some very choice phrases as he covered our retreat. A handful of steps more and I felt the shield wall part around me as I re-entered the field where we’d started. I was still a little fuzzy in the head so it shouldn’t have been too much of a surprise that I face planted into the mud.

Mark came through to find me laying still.

“My Lord,” he yelled as he panicked at the sight of what he could only assume was, at best, his master unconscious or at worst, dead.

Rolling me over he started to run through checks on my breathing and if my heart was still beating.

“Hey,” I protested. “The mud was soothing.” My anger had drained away thanks to the bang to the head and the relaxing mud so I tried to let Mark know I was OK. He let out a massive sigh of relief and slumped to the floor himself.

But were those things coming through after us?

I started to climb to my feet just in case but Mark took a casual grip on my arm and made sure that I stayed put.

“They won’t leave that place. We can relax a while before we head back to the estate.”

“Perfect,” I replied. “But you’re driving.”

We decided that it would probably be wisest to avoid description of where we’d been and what we’d been up to and instead rely on the old faithful response when returning from a night out looking a little worse for wear. I’d drunkenly decided to go marching through a field and had slipped over on the way. It seemed to work.

I showered and after the briefest inspection from Llewellyn, my medical guru, who declared that I must have a pretty hard head, I was left alone in my room. I’d been half expecting the knock on the door so when it came and Mark entered the room, I was sat on the end of the bed, waiting.

“I am extremely sorry for placing you in harm’s way my Lord,” he started and bowed his head, clearly feeling a burning shame within.

I sighed.

“It’s not your fault that we went there, it was mine. I pushed the point and from there, everything that happened can be lumped on my shoulders. You were the one looking after me despite my best efforts.” I was tired and needed him to know that he wasn’t to think he was a failure. I think he relaxed a bit but I wasn’t certain.

“But I do have a question for you,” I added.

“Anything I can provide,” he replied, seemingly happy to resort to doing things he was told.

“No-one wanted me there. Every single creature there was dead set in opposition to me and they all knew who I was.” It was a statement of fact so there was no need to Mark to confirm it.

“The Guardians and The Circle aren’t liked, are we?”

“We are never here to be liked, we have a vitally important role to fulfil so surely, the outcome is all that matters.” Mark’s response had all the feeling of something which had been learned at a very young age and was now just being regurgitated. It was doubtful if he ever considered what the words really meant.

I nodded slowly and gestured weakly that he was dismissed. He bowed and hurried from the room. Maybe that was the way he was used to being dealt with? Maybe my attempts to loosen the environment around here had been banging against such powerfully learned rules, that it had always been doomed to failure?

Laying back on my bed, I could feel a weight settling on my chest.

I’d gone out with the intention of finding some way to put my role as Guardian to one side, to find somewhere that I would be able to relax and not have to worry, just for a short time. Instead, I walked smack into a very real dose of the world I was a part of. There was no middle ground. I was there to protect the human race as a Dragon Guardian but that meant that I was going to be viewed with suspicion from all sides. I was a figurehead of something which was not viewed well and, as such, would forever be treated as a threat. Maybe this would have been a part of my uncle’s thinking when he decided to leave the estate and live permanently in London to look after my brother and I?

When you move away from an area you’re familiar with, it’s all too easy to romanticize the memories and gloss over the bad bits. The new home will always have that to work against but as I lay there, being surrounded by a world that had chosen it hated me, for every second of every day, it became too much.

I was going to be the best Guardian I could be, birthright and all that, but I was going to need to be more than just that to keep myself sane.

I knew what I needed to do.

I was going home.


I suspect that I’m not the first person to experience this but when I started writing, there was never even the slightest thought about the reality of what would have to happen after.

You know what happens when you try to spread the word about a book?

Loads is what.

I was never that up on the delights of social media before I started working on the book. My wife is much more adept with all things of that kind. She’d been active on Facebook and Twitter for years and add to that her amazing ability to talk to anyone and everyone and she is very much at home in the world of social media.

I am not quite so comfortable.

I love to see what my friends and family are up to and connecting with like minded individuals is something which can never be underestimated but maintaining the push of advertising of my work is a huge chunk of what needs to go into this being an author malarkey.

I had a few goes before the blog settled into some kind of routine, my writing schedule can best be described as up and down and the need to go to events and spread the word is always eating into the time available to be creative. Add to this Instagram, Goodreads, trying to create a website and everything else that you need to keep on the boil, and pretty soon, there’s seemingly no time left for anything else at all.

Maybe I would have gone about things differently if I’d actually thought about the realities of what was going to be required but I just wanted to write the book and get it out there. The thought that I’d be out hawking the book didn’t enter my mind because it was always about just the story. The only thing I can kind of cling to is that that shows I wasn’t solely motivated by being published, rather it was the story which was the focus with the wider thoughts not coming until later.

This weekend coming we’ll be in North Wales at this years Sci-Fi Weekender and I can’t wait. I love this convention and the chance to meet up with friends and have a blast is one that just can’t be overlooked. We’ve been attending the convention since it started in 2010 but this will be the first time I will have attended as more than just another member of the public. I have a table and I’ll be doing my very best to entice people to explore the land of Dragons I’m creating. This will be the first time I will have attended a residential event as a vendor where I’ve previously been a member of the public. I can remember going to talks on writing at the first event and thought it would be amazing to one day find myself at an event as more than just a ‘punter’ but again, what that would actually entail didn’t even cross my mind.

So everyone out there reading these words. Remember that there is always so very much more going on than we first give credit. To get to the best results always seems to mean spreading that net of experience just that little bit wider than first thought.

By the way.

Have you bought my books yet?

The Circle of Fire

The Circle of Duty

Tall Tales for Dark Nights


I know it’s not too long since I released The Circle of Duty but I’ve been kicking about loads of ideas for short stories over the years which, you know what, I’m going to release later this year in an anthology.

Stories about the supernatural, horror and lots of other juicy topics will be stitched together to be presented at the end of October, just in time for the excitement of Halloween.

I’ve almost finished the final story for the book, I’ve got a few creepy ideas for the cover design but there’s, as always, one thing I don’t yet have.

The title.

So I turn to you brave followers.

I’m asking for suggestions for the upcoming collection of short stories but it’s more than just a call for help.

If you are the creative mind who is responsible for the selected title, not only will you receive a signed copy of the book but you’ll also become one of the characters in one of the stories.

You’ll become a vital part of the world of my short stories and surely the bragging rights for that are worth a suggestion.

To enter your suggestions (you can make more than one you know) either leave a comment with your ideas on here or visit my Facebook page and comment on there. If you haven’t ‘Liked’ the page yet, don’t be shy, I don’t bite. Honest.

The winning suggestion will be announced on here next week at 9pm GMT.

Good luck all.


Outside of the usual Monday slot but I want to show everyone this press release which has been freed onto the world for The Circle of Duty.

If you haven’t already, why not pick up a copy and join me on Facebook and Twitter.

South Wales based author Owen Elgie releases second novel in The Circle Series

It’s time to return to the world of The Circle. The dragons are waiting.
Following on from the 2015 release, The Circle of Fire, Owen Elgie sets about ramping up the action and intrigue in The Circle of Duty. Turning long held ideas regarding dragons and magic on their heads, fans of fast paced, engaging urban fantasy are sure to love this book.

Neath, South Wales – 11 July, 2016 – Having always felt that there was something missing from every book he ever read featuring dragons, Owen Elgie set about rectifying this oversight by writing the story which had never been told. The Circle of Duty is the second book of The Circle series, following on from last year’s The Circle of Fire. Combining a passion for storytelling with an eye to look at things from a different angle, Owen Elgie makes you think as he makes you marvel. Instantly accessible to all, The Circle of Duty shows you something new.


“I’d always felt that dragons as a character in so much of literature, film and TV were woefully under used,” said Owen Elgie. “They were so often mindless animals, beasts of burden or just the bad guy. I needed to show that they could be so very much more.”

“Setting the action in the here and now also allows us all to believe that we could one day come face to face with one of these majestic creatures.”

Drawing you in from the very first page, The Circle of Duty roars along at high speed and doesn’t let up until the very last word.

It can be purchased in print and on Kindle from Amazon.

For more information please contact Owen Elgie –

About the author:

Owen Elgie has been drawn to storytelling within the Science Fiction and Fantasy genres for years. A keen sportsman in his youth and still a dedicated follower of many sports now, he grew up in Kent before moving to South Wales in 2003.

Son of an English father and a Welsh mother, he finally put pen to paper on a story he’d had running through his head for years which eventually became The Circle of Fire.

Originally planned as a stand-alone novel, it has since become the opening salvo in a series of five.

He is still living in the same house his grandparents lived in and is doing his best to stay creative.

See regular updates from Owen Elgie by following him on TwitterFacebook or his blog:


I’ve posted on here before that I’ve tried to make sure I use enough truth in what I write. Not that I believe that there are huge magical armies out there but that I take well known, and indeed not so well known, tales of mythology from all kinds of places around the world just to give what I write a place to start, if you will.

When you read any kind of story you automatically look around for elements that you recognise to hold onto. Characteristics in people that you have a strong feeling for, parts of a story that you recognise. It’s those things that allow you to then believe all the other bits of fiction that come rushing along out of the blue.

So all you have to do to create any form of engagement from the reader is chuck in a load of references to all kinds of religions, mythology and folklore and you’re sorted, right?

I’ve just been watching a TV show recently which deals in magic and monsters and I’ve noticed that, whereas previously it used the details of already established stories quite sparingly, it had eventually begun throwing all kinds of things together as a whole with an almost insane abandon. As each episode passed and more and more elements were piled upon the altar of story telling, the central narrative began to creak and sway under the accumulating weight.

By adding in nuggets of other stories, sprinkling just a hint of these details throughout any piece of work, you can allow for improvements to the experience but, as every chef will attest, if you add too much of a particular ingredient the overall flavour can be destroyed. Too much of a good thing is a bad thing.

I’ll bet that you’ve read all kinds of stories that have taken some kind of well known mythology as a basis but it’s the ones that either stay honest to the source materials (the Percy Jackson novels I feel fit here) or only use the stories as a starting point which do the business. Mixing too much together often ends up with the baggage which comes with each of the myths getting in the way. You find it hard to believe that elements could link because of the wider histories of each tale.

I need to have fragments of ‘fact’, as it were, in everything I write. It allows me the foundations to build on. But you have to always make sure that you’re using information in the correct way. Less really is more.


Having got back from our holiday in New York, I felt the need to take my first steps into the planning of my next novel in the Circle series. The third book in the series is going to be having some more local flavour to it so with that in mind, I dragged my wife off to The National Show Caves of Wales, Dan-Yr-Ogof.

If you ever get the chance to visit the site I’d strongly recommend giving it a go. Millions of years worth of existence are laid out for all to see. There are stacks of dinosaur models all over the place, a depiction of a bronze age village and all manner of information being piped through hidden speaker systems. As you walk around, you’re greeted by the usual collection of polished public attraction bits and bobs but it’s when you actually find your way into the caves proper that you are treated to the main event.

The three caves all hold different treasures which show contrasting images of the history of the area.

The smallest of the three has bone samples from all manner of people and animals dating back thousands of years, and was by far the most modern of the three, but it was the other two which gave me the most help for my writing.

Those caves were bare of dressing, free of the staged Roman soldiers and Bronze age peoples but they held more majesty because of it. The first system we travelled through was a winding mass of veins through the mountainside it sat within. At over six feet tall, I found myself having to duck and contort myself to avoid cracking into any number of ragged stone outcroppings as the pathway we were on snaked deeply beneath the earth. Step by step we could casually review millions of years worth of the planet just being. Colours and textures of rock waved back at us as we made our way and my mind began to open.

Moving on to the final cave, The Cathedral Cave, I was blasted with such an awe filled view of a gigantic space under the ground that all manner of possibilities and stories swirled and bucked before my eyes. I was witness to a giant room under the ground with rock pools and waterfalls tumbling into ponds. Colours and light draped themselves over each and every surface and all fought for the attention of any and all who happened to walk past, languidly drawing the eye as they unfurled their ancient plumage and showed that which had been hidden for so very long.

I could imagine myself being held within the cave as time rushed past me. I was privy to the vast mass of time which passed by and could see how the very body of the stone became alive as it grew in some places but dwindled in others. I pictured fantastical creatures exploring the darkness in both the distant past and the distant future and I felt an almost primal sensation of life coming from the lifeless stone beneath my feet.

I was reminded, in those underground vaults, that there are so many sensations that the human race can comprehend, so many feelings and delights that we can all share. As an author, I get the greatest job in the world. Through all of the ‘reality’ of the world we see every day, our words are what we can use to let the mind explode. We need the words, all the oddly shaped ones which tickle and scratch as we speak them, the lumpy ones which take more effort to employ and everything in between. Our words are what can become the most mundane of grey and bolt us into the drudgery of a flat existence but they should always be that which sprays bright hues of experience and wonder to ourselves and to everyone we meet.

I witnessed my own wonder in those caves and I could see everything in brighter and deeper shades. I could feel exactly how my words could link together to share what I’ve seen and let another join the fun. Never forget the power of words and just how much delight can be spread because it can be far too easy for all the greatness to be washed out to give us the most dull.