THE THIRD BOOK IN THE GRAEME STONE SAGA:Betrayed by the very dark powers that he had spent two centuries unwittingly serving, Stone is now part of the rebel army.Time is running out; Those Beyond the Veil are close to opening the portal that will allow them to unleash their demonic hordes upon Stone's homeworld, the Earth.How can this ragtag bunch of warriors defeat the slavering army before them? Can Stone once more call upon the power of the elements, after so many years of being corrupted by darkness?Join Stone, Gwenna, Alann the woodsman and more in this final, epic conclusion to the Fall to Power trilogy!==Stone was larger, heavier and possibly stronger, though he wasn’t sure. But the Water Nymph was faster, more flexible, leaping around him with balletic grace and striking out with those razor claws that pierced even his marble flesh. Neither of them stayed down for long when struck; his enhanced frame healing wounds in seconds; her elemental form refreshing itself on demand, rendering her good as new with but a thought.                           A skittering of feet on rocks and Stone turned, seeing her sprinting towards him in a blur of speed. In an instant she was before him, lashing out with her wickedly sharp fingers. He dodged left, avoiding the worst of the attack, the nails scoring shallow lines across his chest, then ducked, avoiding another sweep aimed for his eyes, before rising, lunging forwards with a mighty right-hand punch, even as the Nymph span to deliver a backwards kick.The blows connected at the same time, his fist hitting the side of her head with a thunderous crack that echoed about the cavern, her foot driving hard into his stomach, winding him despite the braced and rocklike abdominals. A booming report, a cloud of spray, and the immortal combatants were sent flying apart by the force of their blows, to land with a splash, ten yards apart in the water.                           They both lay there for a moment, allowing themselves an instant to recover, a brief respite, before rising to their feet. Stone stood, the ache in his midsection fading, his breathing growing steadier by the second, watching with a mental sigh as Nagini noted the thin rivulet of black blood that trickled down from her temple. She took a drop on one razor fingernail, licking it teasingly, before smiling, the cut to the side of her head vanishing in an instant as though it were never there.                           Stone snarled at the invincibility of his foe.                           “You do realise,don’t you, that by delaying me you interfere with the plans of your very masters? The Avatars need me to fight their battles for them; by holding me up you’re going against them…”                           The spirit grinned, soft, feminine lips parting to show those sharp teeth.                           “Indeed. But we’re not in the domain of my mistress, yet, are we? And how else am I supposed to find my distractions?” She let out a melodious laugh. “It gets boring, at times, living forever. Don’t you agree?”                           He growled.                           “Then let me end your boredom for you, right now.”

BOOK FOUR OF THE GRAEME STONE SAGA:Continuing where From the Ashes left off, Stone's band of heroes are hurled through the void to land on Earth, scattered throughout time, where they face dangers galore as they try to survive.Gwenna, Alann, Marlyn, joined by a host of new characters. More action, more danger, more thrills. Old enemies and strange new foes standing in their way.Who will stand and who will fall? How will they cope in this new world? Will Stone fulfil his promise to find them, to bring them back and begin his great mission to save the Earth from the inevitable invasion of Those Beyond the Veil?Find out in Stone Rising: Book Four of The Graeme Stone Saga!!===========From atop one of the buildings that overlooked the bay, a great flash of orange, followed by the smell of ash and brimstone, blown towards them on the coastal breeze. From the cloud of smoke coalesced a beast from the darkest of nightmares, a horned figure that embraced every archetype of hell. The being loomed tall and mighty, its form rippling with muscle and barely contained sorcerous power. It surveyed them from its vantage point with eyes that glowed the red of fresh blood.It looked amused.“Humans,” it called out, its voice amplified by supernatural means to fill the bay in a crescendo of rumbling bass. “The chase ends now.”Arbistrath sneered, but he knew the beast to be right. This was it. This was where it ended. Faced with the horde before them, it was obvious that they had no hope. His cannon beeped morosely by his side, weary yet ready if called upon again. It would never give up on him. Neither would he, he decided. He would stay defiant till the end.He smiled as he called out in reply.“Come down here and say that!”The beast guffawed, its mirth echoing through the heavens like the rumbling of distant thunder.“Think not to goad me, child. I am above the taunting of a spoiled brat such as yourself. The young Lord Arbistrath; thinking yourself high and mighty because of chance of birth; thinking yourself the swaggering hero because you’ve been entrusted with a toy, the power of which you barely understand.” The beast fixed him with its red eyes and, despite himself, Arbistrath shivered in fear. The demon continued, smiling. “Make no mistake, mortal; these are your last moments. These are your last words. Choose them wisely, for the memory of them is all that shall soon remain.”The young Lord of the Tuladors glanced left. Marlyn looked at him, his youthful face bereft, now, of ideas, yet still set, still determined to fight alongside his lord till the last. He looked right, Reno there, and the others, all gazing at him, visibly shaken, terrified by the foes that faced them, yet each determined not to give way to their fears, even now. Even at the end.The beast called out again.“Well? Any last words for posterity?”Lord Arbistrath smiled as he took a deep drag from his cigar, nodding as he exhaled.“Aye,” he called out into the air, fixing the demon with his stare. “Bring it.”A cheer from the dozen Tulador Guards at his back, the whining hum of capacitors filling the air as they readied their weapons for war. Clenching his cigar between his teeth, the young Lord hefted his cannon in both hands, pushing forwards the lever to engage full power. It vibrated with pent up energies, as if eager to release them on its foes, as though sharing in his bloodlust.From atop the warehouse roof, the demon growled, narrowing its eyes.“So be it,” it spat. “Consider it brought.”

THE FIRST BOOK IN THE GRAEME STONE SAGA:Graeme Stone, twenty-five years old, disenchanted youth from Great Britain.Hurled from his humdrum life by dark forces beyond his ken, Stone lands on a far-flung world of ancient magic, eldritch spirits and terrifying barbarian slavers.His body grows stronger, faster, tougher. Strange new powers begin to manifest at his beck and call. But with no memory of his former life, will Stone choose to use his newfound abilities for good?Or evil...?Find out in The Descent to Madness, Book One of the Graeme Stone Saga!==The Nagah-Slayer stood his ground before the rampaging animal and, in an instant, the beast was on him, an irresistible force of rippling flesh, jutting bone and bestial hatred, tusks bared as it bore down for the kill with a terrifying squeal. Neroo could not tear his eyes away as he watched Stone, whether fuelled by insanity or bravery, laughably draw back his fist in readiness to punch the beast square in the face.                           A booming crack, like a thunderclap, that caused him to close his eyes and cover his ears in shock, the report echoing a thousand times off all the trees. He opened them again, in time to see the lifeless corpse of the beast skidding past him through the dried leaves, back the way it had come, its tongue lolling out its mouth, eyes glazed, lifeless, an indentation in the centre of its forehead that spoke of massive, instant brain trauma.Slowly, disbelievingly, he turned to gaze, along with the rest of the troupe, with awestruck eyes to the figure that stood, silhouetted with the sun behind him. Stone’s face was invisible, his fist held to his side, blood dripping to the forest floor with a steady drip-drip-drip.

THE SECOND BOOK IN THE GRAEME STONE SAGA:Two centuries have passed since Graeme Stone first landed in this world with no memory of who he was or how he'd come to be here.The darkness of his past has caught up with Stone and turned him from the path of the Shaman as taught to him by Master Wrynn.Stone is now Invictus; the Barbarian King, an immortal ruler with nigh-limitless power. His every whim is a command. Every pleasure his for the taking.With the seductive Seeress Ceceline, the snarling Huntmaster Kurnos, the handsome and jovial General Bavard and the lethal assassin Memphias by his sides, the godking spares no thoughts for the plight of his people, content to enjoy himself, safe in the knowledge that he is unasailable in the stone towers of Pen-Merethia.But there are stirrings upon the breeze... ancient spirits, long since banished from the land, whisper of change. In the far north, a simple woodsman summons the disillusioned people to arms. Closer to home, the smell of long-forbidden Spirit-craft is afoot.Invictus' rule is to be challenged.But as long as he has the backing of his dark patrons Beyond the Veil, he has nothing to worry about... does he?Find out in this, The Fall to Power, the second book in the Graeme Stone Saga.==The God-King took a step back as the Golem strode into the room, each leaden, automaton footstep causing the ground to tremble, motes of dust to fall from the ceiling. The beast rose to its full height, eight feet, nine, no ten, looming, a monster, a giant, dwarfing even the mighty form of the Barbarian King, who opened his mouth, half smiling, unable to be anything other than impressed by this crude, yet effective instrument of war.The keening, scratching noise again, the dry rustling of a trapped spirit, and, as Invictus looked into the monster’s artlessly chiselled eyes, he could see now the raging torment of the trapped djinn within. Somehow, the Sand Lords, the desert sorcerers of this region, had managed to trap this restless spirit within the construct, forcing it to serve them for all of eternity.                           The God-King grinned, for he saw the evil genius of the idea, but at the same time he saw its folly; for you do not send a spirit against Invictus, for he was an avatar of a power beyond that of the elements. With a thought, he bade the anguished spirit to go, to fleeA moment passed, then the Golem took another thunderous step towards him, the stone of the floor splintering beneath its tremendous weight.                           Ah, he thought. A spirit can’t flee if it’s bound, no more than a man could flee if tied to a ball and chain. Fair enough, there’s more than one way to skin a Golem...