Continuum: Until Dawn, the newest installment in the Continuum series, is now available on Amazon.com in both print and ebook mediums.
For those of you who don’t know, myself, along with fellow author R.C. Erickson, founded a writers group at Franciscan University of Steubenville. In the midst of lengthy discussions (ranging philosophical to writing to outright ridiculous) we have finally been able to get something done. So here it is: Continuum: Until Dawn!
In this issue of the Anthology, I would hazard to say that my writing (as well as the writings of my fellow authors) has greatly improved. For example, I actually have a (in my opinion) satisfying ending in contrast to the overly dramatic and largely uncreative ending found in Fables of the Fallen, the first issue of Continuum.
This novella (becuase I seem incapable of writing anything short) follows the story of Captain Jon Ames, specifically of his origins and how he (originally a citizen of Andereth, sworn enemies of Riddium at the time of the Tragedy of Carth Giator) came to be a soldier in the Riddian Army. Needless to say, I feel that this story is my best work yet and I would highly encourage you all to read it. If you like anything by Patrick Rothfuss, Neil Gaiman, George Martin or Tolkien, then I’m sure you’d like it…but then again, of course I would say that so…read it anyway and then decide for yourself.
Anyway, I’ve copied the link below for the download. The ebook is $2.99 and the paperback copy is $11.99 but is on sale for a limited time for $9.71. I hope you like all of the stories, we’ve all worked our butts off to get this done, so enjoy!
They came early in the dawn, the smell of fresh woodsmoke heralding their arrival. Thorn watched them as he hid in the branches of a thistle-berry bush, keeping to the shadows of the dim morning light. His eyes narrowed as he saw men of his own country clothed in tan tunics the color of the Caradruh desert, the Black Raven embroidered on their breasts. Sentries paced back and forth, pikemen stood watch around the camp’s perimeter, and archers crouched in wooden watchtowers hewn from iron-oak and ash. In the center of it all was a man giving orders from the ring of campfires and makeshift tents, wearing a black helm with an eagle clutching a rattlesnake in its talons engraved in silver on the brow. Thorn leaned in closer, hoping that his hunting camouflage would conceal him in the underbrush, ears straining for any sound, any hint of the plot they were formulating.
“They will show resistance, M’lord,” said a thin, quavering voice. Thorn tightened his grip on his hunting knife, his vision turning a cloudy red as a slow anger boiled in his chest. Traitor. He knew that voice.