With ‘The Blackwood Crusade’ due for its chance in the spotlight on Sunday, I thought it would be wise to pay some attention to my firstborn in case it begins to feel neglected!
by Dr Melchior Williams (Co-Author of ‘The Blackwood Crusade’)
In the 15th Century, Blackwood is plagued by faeries, as everyone who lives there knows. Everyone except the Lord of Blackwood, that is, who refuses to believe there is such a thing.
THE NATURE OF TREES: FRIEND OR FOE?
It had been a long time since Christina neglected to pay her faerie toll when traveling through the woods so, for a moment, she dithered, unsure of how effective her new ring of invisibility was. Passing by the Toll Tree, she became a young girl with all her old fears, at the very birth of her quest. All the battles and triumphs between then and now seemed suddenly irrelevant, for this… this was the Black Wood, and home to Gallus, whose memory still turned Christina’s very core into an icicle.
The previous post – ‘First Day Nerves’ is connected to this one. Both come from the same story, which will probably be called APPLEHEART.
It will be a long time before I can call it a book, and, to be honest, it’s already been stewing for a good number of years. Checking back, I wrote the Appleheart excerpt in 2014, and First Day Nerves is from 2016. It’s now almost 2018 and I have the best part of four chapters. Four years to write four chapters!?
This is what I like to call a ‘slow-cook book’, and they’re often the best. I’ll keep adding to it, and all sorts of ideas will get mixed in along the way. It should make for lots of flavour, just like a long-simmered stew!
My mother said I would regret choosing art as a career. My father couldn’t care less what I chose. He was, however, worried about Ned and drama. If he’d ever seen any of Ned’s acting; if he’d bothered to go to the school plays or the drama group productions like I had, he wouldn’t have been so worried. My brother was a natural. We were still in nappies when he began to people his world with characters from his imagination. They occasionally took him over so that he became someone else entirely. Many times, over the years, his acting made me laugh so hard I was sick, or cry until I had a headache.
As kids, we would sit together in a tent pitched in the middle of the room we shared. It was like a wigwam, but one we’d made by haphazardly stitching old sheets together and stealing bamboo canes out of the garden. Only we two were allowed in. No family. No friends. Because, inside that tent, was our own little world. A stage for Ned, a studio for me. We would sit together for hours, forgetting empty tummies and full bladders and all the boring routines of life. I had my drawing pad and my coloured pencils on my knee. Ned told me all about the people in his world. I drew them for him.
“Draw an apple for Murphy. He loves apples more than anything.”
I drew an apple for Murphy and tilted the pad.
“No. He only likes red apples. Not green ones.”
I rubbed out the apple, picked up the red pencil, and started again. “What about Mia Emilia? What does she like best?”
“Mia Emilia doesn’t like anything anymore. She’s always sad. She has a face like this.” He pulled the saddest face I’d ever seen. “And she only ever talks in a whisper.”
Mab was so pleased to see Silas that she grabbed his hands and told him the story at great speed.
Christina realised her chances of getting away unscathed were hideously low without some kind of brilliant intervention, but her mind was so busy being terrified it couldn’t think of anything brilliant. So, instead, she settled for the oldest trick in the book which, at that point of time, was not very old at all.
What if the medieval folklore of old was based in truth? And what if just one girl was charged with the task of destroying it? Adventure, swordfights, love, loss, faeries, battles… and magic. All in […]