It’s been a while, I know, but the wait is almost over.

I’ve been working hard on the next book in ‘The Circle’ series, having rediscovered my creative mojo, and I’m very nearly finished.

My Dragons are preparing to take flight again very soon so everyone watch this space.

The third book in the series, ‘The Circle of Stars’,  is close to completion.

Are you ready to dive back in?

In for a penny ………………………



Have you seen the Austin Powers films?

They’re great fun, with the not even slightly subtle jokes about sex (nudge, nudge) and every bodily function you could imagine but it’s the second film in the trilogy that came to mind recently.

Dr. Evil’s scheme to defeat Austin Powers involves travelling back in time and stealing the most vital ingredient of the man he hates. He wishes to remove the very core of what Austin is and by doing so, render him helpless. He’s after his mojo.

In the film, the mojo is depicted as a physical thing which can be removed, fought over, and then returned, but I’ve been finding out first hand that that’s so far from the truth that it’s painful.

First things first. I didn’t recognise that I’d even lost my mojo until I started to rediscover it. There I was, hitting at keys and doing all I could to be creative but no matter how hard I tried, it always felt like a false start. I’ve written reams of words over the last two or so years for the opening of my latest novel, The Circle of Stars, only for them all to wither the second they appeared on the page. It didn’t seem to matter what it was, how I created, where I went about my work, every effort just returned more and more rot.

We’ve all experienced the loss of mojo along the way.

You continue as best you can, all the time recognising that something’s stuck, but it never seems to matter what angle you attack at, your mojo eludes you. And it’s not as if there’s a clear sign that your mojo is missing. It’s only after you begin to climb back up and out of the pit that you can see what it is that you’ve been in the midst of.

Friends and family, though well meaning, will attempt to give you advice to negotiate this relative emptiness but mojo is a very personal thing. Using someone else’s mojo is likely to give similar results to putting diesel in a petrol engine, so no matter the help everyone around you is trying to pass on, your engine won’t fire and you’ll be just as stuck.

Each one of us will always be prisoners to our own minds and then spectres it conjures. The human condition is one which seems to designed to confuse as much as it explains and our mojo, our X factor, our spark can be a fickle thing.

I’m a writer and taking away my mojo for the stories I had in mind left me stuck on the far side of a chasm with no way to cross, but it also left me there thinking that the bridge I’d used previously was fine but that it just wasn’t working.

Now I feel that the light is coming on again.

Over the last month or so, I’ve found myself writing things that make sense but also, I’ve found that my mind is again firing with rolling ideas that want to come out to play. The words are flowing again and the mojo that had seemed so far away, was again bathing me in its warmth.

It won’t be long before the third novel in my Dragon series is finished and ready to be released into the world.

The Circle of Stars is moving pretty fast again.


Something that my parents always said when I was growing up when the topic arose, was they could remember exactly what they were doing when they heard that JFK had been shot. It’s not so much that they were huge fans of his or anything but they recognised that the event itself was one that was going to have a powerful and long lasting effect on the world as a whole.

Now think about the other big moments of history.

The fall of the Berlin Wall. The building of the Berlin Wall for that matter. The first man on the moon. 9/11. Obama being sworn in.

All of these things are going to take up space in the pages of future history books as events that shaped how the human race as a whole proceeded. They all had the power to reach everywhere.

But those are the really big ones.

Those events are the ones that everyone can see at the time that they occur and knows that they’re going to do something to all of us but what about those events that take place and the effect aren’t felt right away? Every day there could be a wonderfully usual action, something which in isolation, doesn’t mean an enormous amount, but starts off a chain reaction which could lead to something enormous.

The circus that’s Donald Trump’s presidency and the wreckage that is the horror show of Brexit, are massive explosions in human history that’ll be affecting all of us for generations but these things didn’t come about on a single day. They built from single instances of the mundane things to sit atop one another until everything fell apart.

I’m writing the third book in my Circle series and something that I have to pay a massive amount of attention to is planting the singular events which, alone, do what they need to in the story they appear in but they’ll link together to form something else at a later date.

Having a story which can refer back to earlier events allows for the reader to return to earlier events and review them with a very different eye. Looking back at the events allows for hindsight to refocus what happened, potentially creating a different way to interpret the facts.

I suppose that the next step when reviewing past events is making sure that any mistakes that are made aren’t repeated.

Brexit and Trump seem to be great examples to review.


Have you ever noticed that superheroes, hell, all of us, can very often be recognised not by the range of powers or skills that the have, but by the weaknesses.

It’s very easy to create a character who has all manner of abilities. Superman can fly, can shoot laser beams from his eyes, has super strength, can freeze water with his breath and is bulletproof. Now the hero’s been put together, the way to actually create the tension, the story, is to give them a weakness or two.

If you take away the threat of kryptonite, Superman is pretty much able to squash anything that crosses his path so should anyone try it, none of us would be worried that he’d be challenged. Superman is then the most boring hero going because nothing is going to get close to him so all the stories that could be written will eventually just be the same walk to the ultimate conclusion of the vanquishing of the enemy.

I’m writing at the moment on the third book in The Circle series and one of the things I’ve always got to keep in mind, is that a Dragon is a pretty powerful creature. A Dragon could do some real damage and on top of that, within the structure of the narrative, they sit very much at the top of the food chain.

So how do you make the stories compelling?

Make sure that the adversaries that pop up are able to exploit a weakness or somehow get around the strengths that the Dragon has.

Superman was always battling with Lex Luthor who made the best use of his vast intellect to become a very real threat to the man of steel. In the same way, my Dragon has to face off against challenges that can truly cause problems. The Circle of Fire had a similar creature as the Dragon but The Circle of Duty had a slightly different antagonist meaning the skill set went almost completely against what you’d expect.

That means that the threat comes straight back in and all the way through the story, there’s going to be the risk of the hero losing the fight.

Without that weakness, without taking away the huge power that could be brought to bear, or at least making it more and more difficult, the threat level vanishes. How the hero then deals with the problem, deals with the losses, define what sort of character we’re dealing with.

We all have to deal with our own weaknesses and issues and very often, how we react in the face of those issues is what defines us. In the face of adversity, we can find out what sort of individual we are. We all can. Without those weaknesses to overcome, we’re just left with no obstacles to traverse and life is just moving onwards without any feeling of accomplishment. We’d never be tested.

All in all, we need to know that we can overcome the horror.


Have you ever crashed into a secret?

You either have one or know someone who does and you want to know.

With all of the ideas I’ve been working on for The Circle of Stars and some other bits and pieces, the idea of secrets seem to keep floating to the surface.

We all keep secrets of one kind or another. What you’ve bought someone for a birthday, the cheque’s in the post, and all the way up to the gladly less common, I did kill that man. The whole of the process just involves keeping said fact away from view or for just a select group and when it comes to story telling, the struggle to either uncover said fact or keep it hidden despite the efforts of others is very often a central tenet of what goes on.

Now in the real world, these things still happen but as always, it’s more than just the two choices that can cause problems.

Keeping a secret can cause problems beyond just the keeping. Guilt potentially about what was done and also for the fact you have to keep it under wraps. Trust issues as you may recognise that a significant other isn’t being fully truthful. Resentment that everyone around you may know something yet they’re keeping you in the dark. Intrigue at the thought of a puzzle to solve.

Imagine you’re not told something at work, which you then know that others around you do know. Everyone’s sworn to secrecy and you’re out in the cold. Why don’t they tell you? Have you done something wrong? Is it about you? Don’t they like you? Are you going to be fired?

Your behaviour would suddenly be altered at the thought of all the questions which come with not knowing. You’d want to know. You’d try to find out. And you’d look at the others differently. It wouldn’t matter what the detail was, things would be tilted because you were he odd one out.

A secret as a story telling tool, is a wonderful chance to plant seeds for the narrative to grow as the story progresses. It can allow you to explore character dynamics in a way that can create conflict without the need to rely on flying fists.

All in all, secrets can be useful things for a story, though in the real world…………….


There I was, trundling along with my writing on the next novel, The Circle of Stars, and from out of the blue, came the big slap in the face.

When I write, I have a plan of sorts about what’s going to be happening but I always make sure to leave enough free room that I can amend and nudge the story as I go, depending on what the story does as I move along. I’ve referred to it as almost Bltzkrieg writing, where I blast off to a far off point I the story and then go back to the start and fill in details as I then repeated the journey.

But very often, a central detail of what I need to try and fold into and then build the story around, is missing for quite some time.

So how the hell do I write a coherent book if I don’t have the so-called keystone?

I just get the ball rolling and see how I get along, having enough of a plan where I need to go and the story, and indeed all of the central themes, spiral out of what comes to the surface.

I’ve often wondered if my ‘process’ is anything other than the weak minded way of bungling a story together or indeed, if it’s just the best way for me to be able to sort all of the ideas I have into some kind of order. I know when I start out, the place the story needs to eventually end up, but surely over planning to the Nth degree will drain all of the colour out of the words, leaving behind detailed descriptions but possibly lacking a degree of organic growth. Making sure you have all of the room to breathe when writing means that you’ll have space to include something you may have had in the back of your mind but which didn’t come to the surface until long into the process.

I think I’ve proved to myself that I’ve known what I needed to be saying at the core of the latest book for quite some time. I look back over the notes I’d made, re-examined the characters and what they need to be doing and even looked on the short story, Crossing the Line, which I published in Answers from the Darkness, with a new eye.

My message was always there.

I’d always known what was happening, it was just that I hadn’t told myself. Maybe the timing wasn’t right.

Certainly feels right now though.


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.