TC Southwall is set to become the South African “Amanda Hocking” of digital self-publishing. Having grown up in the Seychelles, Southwall settled in South Africa after the death of her father. An IT professional, she’s taken to the world of digital self-publishing with fervour, publishing over 25 fantasy and sci-fi novels in two months, as well as five screenplays.
Her stories “combine fantasy and adventure with romance” and the sheer amount of her publications is testament to the fact that, “For this author, writing is as easy as reading”.
Southwell’s books are available from her homepage, where you can enter into the her world of fantasy by reading one of her e-books for free. Her is an excerpt from her First Book in the Cyber Chronicles, Queen of Arlin:
Heavy, indigo velvet curtains covered the windows and kept the wood-panelled bedchamber gloomy, adding to the sense of doom. Smoking braziers burnt incense, thickening the air with cloying scent. Bottles, vials and pots cluttered the bedside table, testament to the doctors’ futile ministrations.
King Alrade’s swift illness had taken all by surprise, wasting the flesh from his powerful frame at an alarming speed and robbing him of his strength. The King’s eyes wandered over his long-time friend’s face, seeking an answer in his elderly features but finding none. Despair flared in his eyes.
“What can I do about it now, Pervor? All that I can, I have done. Did you meet the wizard?”
The gaunt, balding advisor nodded. “He agreed to help. He told me that he would send a tool, some sort of magical device, and it will appear in our dungeons when it is ready. Do you truly trust this man, Sire? You leave the fate of your kingdom and your daughter in his hands.”
King Alrade sighed and settled deeper into the soft cushions of his deathbed. “What choice do I have, my friend? The gods have decided to take me from this mortal plane, and none can gainsay them. Certainly not that brood of incompetents that lurk in the shadows. I only wish I could stay to see it through. Tassin does not deserve this burden on her reign, she is too young.” Anger brought blood to stain the old King’s cheeks for a moment before it drained away again. His wheezing broke the hush.
“Tassin is strong,” Pervor soothed. “She comes from a long line of warrior kings and queens. She will win.”
The King shook his head, closing his eyes as a stab of pain coursed through him. “She is frailer than you think. Her mother was as fragile as a flower, and as easily crushed. Why do you think she died birthing Tassin, who was such a small baby? Tassin tries to be a warrior princess, but she is too small, like her mother, her blows too puny. Mandon, bless him, makes her feel good when she does her sword training, but he tells me that she can hardly cleave a butterfly in half.”
Pervor pursed pale lips and regarded the dying King. “But she has your blood in her too, My King. She will be strong when she has to.”
“She will try. I pray that she does not kill herself in the process. Pervor, swear to me.”
The aged advisor fell to one knee. “Anything, Sire, just name it.”
“Protect her, and if you cannot, since you are old, find a mighty warrior who will. One who will stand beside her and kill her enemies when she cannot. She will have troubles aplenty, and not merely the monsters from the Death Zone that ravage our land. The kings will fight for her hand, and none are truly good. Find someone. Be he mage or warrior, prince or miracle worker. She will need him. Swear this to me.”
Pervor bowed his head. “I swear, My King, upon my life and the lives of my children, to do my utmost.”
“Tell her of the weapon as soon as she is Queen. Help her to use it, and defeat the Death Zone. I leave her in your care.”
Pervor nodded, frowning as the King’s breath rattled ominously, and one of the healers who hovered nearby stepped closer to bend over him.
“Send for the Princess,” the doctor said.
The advisor retreated into the shadows as a manservant ran out. Pervor gazed at the King who lay shrunken and pale on the huge bed, the doctors gathered around him like vultures about a corpse.
- Demon Lord by TC Southwell
- The Queen’s Blade by TC Southwell
- Slave Empire: Prophecy by TC Southwell