Also by this author: The Genes of Isis
Today is my spot on the tour for The Mark of the Salamander and I get to share two extracts with you! One is the written version, but I also have the audio version too!! Exciting time!!!!
Enjoy!
About the Book
1575: Nelan Michaels is a young Flemish man fleeing religious persecution in the Spanish Netherlands. Settling in Mortlake outside London, he studies under Queen Elizabeth’s court astrologer, conjuring a bright future – until he’s wrongly accused of murder. Forced into the life of a fugitive, Nelan is dramatically pressed into the crew of the Golden Hind.
Thrust into a strange new world on board Francis Drake’s vessel, Nelan sails the seas on a voyage to discover discovery itself. Encountering mutiny, ancient tribes and hoards of treasure, Nelan must explore and master his own mystical powers – including the Mark of the Salamander, the mysterious spirit of fire.
The Mark of the Salamander is the first in The Island of Angels series: a two-book saga that tells the epic story and secret history of England’s coming of age during the Elizabethan era.
You can buy the book here – https://mybook.to/marksalamander-zbt
Here is the audio extract…
And here is the written extract….
“The constables are here with a warrant to arrest Master Nelan for murder.”
“Let them in,” Laurens said. “No, don’t!” Nelan cried.
“Let. Them. In,” Laurens snapped. The footman left the study.
“Then I must go,” Nelan said.
“No,” his father replied. “We are visitors here. Refugees. England is renowned for its adherence to the law. You must surrender to the constables.”
“Quickly, Dr Dee, what do I do?” Nelan asked.
“There are other significant elements in your horoscope that suggest you have a part to play in the future of this country. That’s why I’m here to help you escape: because you can’t do that while confined within a prison. So, you must run away and avoid capture for as long as possible. Then you can absolve yourself of this unjust accusation. Now, you must go,” Dee said, pointing to the window.
Nelan opened it.
“Do not go,” his father said. “You must defend yourself, and my honour.”
“Father, I must. The constables—”
Laurens squeezed himself between Nelan and the window. There he stood, legs astride, arms folded, glaring at him. At times, he had a fearsome presence. This was one of them. “You are staying here,” he said through gritted teeth.
“But, Dr Dee, even if I run, they’ll catch me,” Nelan said. “It’s broad daylight outside.”
“Not anymore,” Dee murmured, nodding his head. “Look out the window.”
Outside, a mist as thick as pea soup hung over the river. Where’s that come from? Did it arise naturally, or did Dr Dee conjure it out of the ether?
“Where is he?” an unfamiliar voice boomed from the corridor. “Nelan, be a man,” his father said, “and account for your actions. If you flee, you will dishonour the Michaels’ family name.”
Nelan clenched his fists. “Father, I have to find another way to clear my name. I’ll not end my days in Newgate or Marshalsea for a crime I didn’t commit. Besides, if anyone’s guilty, it’s Guillermo. Now, move, please!”
“I will not!”
“This time, I’ll not bow to your wishes. I’m innocent and disappointed that you don’t believe me. I beg you, get out of my way.”
“No.”
The study door burst open, and Laurens glanced towards the intruder. In one swift, agile movement Nelan darted between his father’s legs and came out the other side. He scrambled onto the windowsill and jumped down to the ground outside before his father had time to stop him. Finally, he’d found an advantage to being small. The ground was moist and soft from the mist. A light breeze swirled vapour around him, adding a ghostly effect to the scene. From the study he heard muffled voices: those of the constables, his father, and Dr Dee.
He knew the paths leading to and from the house like he knew the course of the river. He felt invisible to the world, and in a way, he was. Leaving one life behind and taking the first frightened, tentative steps into a new one, he concentrated on every footstep. He could barely see the path, but he knew that the river flowed by some fifty paces in front of his house.
There he met an extraordinary sight. He stepped out of the swirling mist and into broad daylight. Apart from his house, everywhere was clear: the north bank of the river in Chiswick, the monastery of Syon Abbey to the west, and to the east the city of London, where filaments of woodsmoke snaked into the dawn skies on the horizon. The mist had settled around his house, but nowhere else. He’d never witnessed such a strange phenomenon in all the years he’d lived there.
Excited yet?!?!?!
Stay and have a chat :)