Andrew Knighton's Blog

Lieutenant Gerald Cadman, the fighting coward, once again finds himself precisely where he does not want to be — on the front lines! The arrival of the heroic and aristocratic Captain Blickley-Phipps, however, gives Cadman an idea for how to improve his station.

But for Private Tom Smith, something doesn’t seem right about Blickley-Phipps. Ruthless in his quest for glory, the captain will gladly sacrifice his own men for victory. Even Scruff the dog can smell an impending disaster, but Cadman may be too distracted to find a way out this time!

It’s comics time again, as I have a new Commando comic out – my latest Cadman story.

After taking the fighting coward out of the trenches of World War One for his past two adventures, this time I put him in the thick of the fighting. Trench warfare is so fundamental to the First World War, its brutality often gets overlooked when looking for novel stories, but I wanted to show what Cadman’s living through on a regular basis. It’s a chance to set the tone for his experiences, and to remind readers of what’s at stake every time he tries to get out.

The horrible grind of the Western Front is reflected in the action of the story, as Cadman and company take part in an attempt to seize German trenches. We see the bombardments meant to soften up targets before the attack, how terrifying they could be to live through but also how ineffective they were, with the Germans retreating to deeply dug defences and emerging to defend their lines once the shells stopped falling.

The drama of this one is driven by a new antagonist – not a German but a British officer, Captain Charles Blickley-Phipps. Artist Mike Dorey’s square-jawed vision of Blickley-Phipps is perfect for the character, an aggressive aristocrat oozing with self-confidence. A man who initially seems like the dynamic leader the troops need, Blickley-Phipps quickly emerges as a bullying psychopath whose obsession with charging the German positions will get everyone killed. As a social climber, Cadman is caught between impressing Blickley-Phipps and dodging danger, and as the fighting grows ever more intense, the pressure mounts.

This is a story driven by class and the power it gives people over each other – Blickley-Phipps’s hold over the people around him, Cadman’s desperate desire for status, and the pressure on Smith at the bottom of the pyramid. There are serious issues at stake, ones which have caused problems throughout British history, but I also had some fun with it. I love writing cartoonish villains, and Blickley-Phipps is a caricature of an aristocrat – built like a rugby player, wielding a double-barrelled surname, and leading Indian troops as an embodiment of colonial power. One line talks about him “anticipating the victory he thought he deserved”, and anyone who lived through the Boris Johnson years will be all too familiar with that personality.

I’ve made additions to the ongoing cast as I’ve written Cadman’s adventures, and Born to Lead gives space to my favourite new character – Scruff the dog. Throughout the story, he expresses the unease surrounding Blickley-Phipps, from his initial growling to Blickley-Phipps’s eagerness to kill an innocent animal, whether for food or just for fun. A loyal dog and an English aristocrat become opposite ends of an emotional and moral spectrum.

This is still a Cadman story, so there’s plenty of action and humour, but in the end it’s a story about what happens when leaders make things worse. In my mind, that’s the perfect First World War story, or at least the story that comes from growing up watching Blackadder.

Down the Tubes gave this comic a great review, calling it “a gem of a story”. If all of this has whetted your appetite, you can get Cadman: Born to Lead, written by me and with art by Mike Dorey, from newsagents, branches of TG Jones, online via Mags Direct, or digitally on the Commando app.

The post Out Now – Cadman: Born to Lead appeared first on Andrew Knighton Writes.

I recently wrote a blog post for the British Fantasy Society about the publication of Walking a Wounded Land, my latest novella. The post talks about small press publishing, what it’s like to work with Wizard’s Tower Press, and the launch of the book at World Fantasy Con 2025. If you’re interested, you can read all about it over here.

The post Getting Walking a Wounded Land Published appeared first on Andrew Knighton Writes.

Sadly, my novel The Executioner’s Price, which was going to be published next week, has been cancelled due to changes at the publisher. Its predecessor The Executioner’s Blade is also going out of print at the end of the year.

I think the publishers are making the right choice in their circumstances, which I might say more about once they’ve made their own announcement, but it’s obviously a blow for me. I’ve enjoyed working with them and would happily do so again. I’ve known this was coming for a few weeks, and had the choice to cancel The Executioner’s Price or see it published for a month before going off sale, which would have felt weird and made any future publication more complicated. Publishing is precarious, small press publishing doubly so. You have to be ready to take your knocks. Thanks to everyone who bought the first book or said nice things about it.

I was going to be at Dragonmeet in London with the publisher next weekend to sell this and other books from their science fiction and fantasy stable. That won’t be happening now.

I’m proud of these books and will try to find them a new home, along with an almost complete book three. I’m going to be talking with some publishers and reminding myself of how self-publishing works (haven’t done that in a few years). In the meantime, if you’d like to read a fantasy murder mystery where world-weary woman fights crime & dragons you’ve got a month left before it goes off sale, please make the most of the opportunity!

In a mountain city where monsters go to die, Lena Sturm is hiding from her past. But when she discovers that she has executed an innocent woman, guilt drives her to seek out the real murderer. A mad alchemist, a zealous bishop, and a ruthless crime lord all become suspects as Lena investigates a mystery she’s been told to leave alone.

But Lena isn’t the only one with an interest in the crime. When an army arrives outside the city walls, using justice as an excuse for invasion, the need to find the truth becomes desperate. With dragon fire and cannon shot threatening Unteholz, can Lena save the city without sacrificing the cause of justice?

The Executioner’s Blade, a fantasy murder mystery.

The post Update on the Executioner Books appeared first on Andrew Knighton Writes.

This year’s World Fantasy Con might be the best time I’ve had at a con ever, so now that a week and a half has passed and I’ve managed to carve out a spare half hour, I figured I’d write a bit about why.

Conventions are all about community, bringing together people to share their creativity and enthusiasm. You get to meet up with friendly, fascinating folks who you normally only see online, listen to people talk about their areas of interest and expertise, and browse some of the great books by small publishers who don’t have the reach to get into big bookshops, but whose work is some of the community’s most creative output. What’s not to love?

Because it was based in Brighton this year and combined with Fantasy Con, WFC 2025 was dominated by the British fantasy community, which is to say my people. I’ve been attending cons in this country for over a decade, and the more I go, the more connected I feel to that community. I know more people. I know them better. I’ve shared their ups and downs, the triumphs and disappointments, the late night bar chats about the failings of publishers and who should play Dr Who.

This is the biggest reason why I encourage sffh people to attend conventions – the chance to be part of that community. Every time I turned around, there was some friend or acquaintance I hadn’t caught up with yet, and I met some fantastic new people too. As someone who gets a buzz out of socialising, it really lifted me up.

This one was spearheaded by Karen Fishwick, who’s been running conventions for years and has built up a team of experienced veterans working on all parts of the operation. It showed. No convention is ever going to run perfectly, but if there were any major controversies or crises, I missed them.

The hotel we were in, and the way it was used, created some drawbacks and some things that worked really well. Dealers struggled from being on a floor away from everything else, which damaged their critical convention trade, and I hope that’s something con runners will learn from for future years. On the other hand, the big socialising area worked really well, providing plenty of space for people to mingle whether they were drinking, eating, or just hanging out. It was the social side that gets referred to as barcon, but without the crowded, noisy space and problem drinking that can come with a bar.

The panels were varied and interesting. Some covered the familiar topics for relatively new attendees, some touched on less-discussed areas such as the crafting of prose. While I saw (and took part in) some single gender panels, the panel schedule in general seemed relatively balanced, and it felt like everyone who wanted to have their voice heard had a chance. I went to a bunch of book launches for friends and folks I admire, picked up several books that were already on my list and plenty more that weren’t, and generally enjoyed it all.

Brighton’s pretty cool. Even without walking more than ten minutes from the venue, I got to eat in cool coffee shops, have vegan fish and chips, and share nice dinners out. The walk along the seafront was bracing and beautiful. The burned out remains of the old pier have a haunted air that was perfect for the occasion, just outside the hotel.

On the last night, I stopped on the beach on my way home and enjoyed watching the waves under the moonlight. It was a perfect moment.

Then a lifeguard showed up to make sure I wasn’t a drunk idiot about to drown myself at midnight. Bless you Brighton, you’re clearly a city that cares.

My perception of all of this is biased by the fact that it was a particularly good con for me.

Though Walking a Wounded Land isn’t my first book, this was my first in-person launch event, and I had a great time with that – one of those “I’m a real author now” moments.

I enjoyed both my panels, one on dragons and the other on sword and sorcery, which were fun conversations with good questions from the audience.

And on Saturday night, I got to read from my new book. Unfortunately, the room was next door to a wedding disco, so I ended up reading a solemn tail of landscape and grief over some disco beats, but people liked it enough to go buy copies the next day. And as well as fellow Yorkshire author Charlotte Goodwin, I shared the slot with Amal El-Mohtar, so I met her and listened to her reading, which was a pleasure in itself.

I can’t objectively say that this was the best convention ever. I wouldn’t even want to. I sincerely hope that next year’s Fantasy Con is even better, and so on for the following year, and the one after that, as the community grows and the con runners build up institutional knowledge and experience. But it was probably the most I’ve enjoyed a convention so far, and I’ve come home energised to write.

The post World Fantasy Con 2025 – That Was a Lot of Fun appeared first on Andrew Knighton Writes.

Unteholz is a divided city built on the backs of dying monsters.

When an old foe turns up dead, executioner Lena Sturm reluctantly sets out to solve the murder. An outcast scavenger, a clockwork engineer, and a decadent slave trader all become suspects as she tries to make up for past mistakes. It’s a case that no one else wants, threatening to stir up prejudices and bankrupt the city.

But there are bigger dangers than a single killer. Armies are marching. Crowds are rioting. A unicorn is out for blood and giant ants are swarming in the mines. From the pitch-black tunnels under the mountains to the blazing heat of the city mint, Lena faces her most dangerous adventure yet as she weighs the value of one man’s life.

Northodox Press have just revealed the cover of The Executioner’s Price, the second book in my Executioner series, and like the novel, it’s every bit as dramatic as the last one. James at Northodox has done a great job capturign the spirit of these books – Lena Sturm up against monsters and ready to take on the world.

The Executioner’s Price is coming out on 27 November. If you’re at Dragonmeet in London on the 29th, I’ll be at the Northodox stall selling and signing copies. And if not, you can preorder the book now:

And if you’re not sure whether this is for you, here’s what some other writers said about the first book:

“A perfect balance of action and character wrapped about a delightfully twisted mystery.” – Adrian Tchaikovsky, author of Children of Time

“A very enjoyable, fast paced read.” – Anna Smith-Spark, author of Empires of Dust

“Mature and absorbing epic fantasy, very well worth a look.” – Juliet E. McKenna, author of the Green Man series

“Flawed yet relatable characters, a corrupt city, and a mystery full of twists and turns. A beautifully thought-out and engagingly written piece of fantasy.” – Charlotte Bond, author of The Fireborne Blade

The post Cover Reveal: The Executioner’s Price appeared first on Andrew Knighton Writes.

The ashes are warm as spilt blood between Helga’s toes, pale as searchlight beams striping the sky, soft as the bed she fled. It’s too late, the local bomb shelter already buried beneath the wall of a blazing building, the horror of the moment hiccuping in her chest. She stumbles towards it anyway, into warm ashes fallen over cold ashes fallen over cobbles scarred by months of terror. Then she sees the footsteps in those ashes. Then she sees him.

Fritz in his fine uniform, the day before he left, stumbling as slowly as she does. She presses a hand to her mouth and follows, as desperate for his company as for a guide through the inferno her city has become.

Do her eyes hurt from the heat of the burning winter air, or from the memory of the way he lost himself when overcome by emotion? This slab of a man who endured years on the factory floor, survived an accident that shattered Sebastian’s skull, saved two colleagues from a burning store, would tremble over words like “Would you like to dance?” or “Could I take you to a movie?” or “I love you.” The night of this memory, the words had been “Marry me,” but it was her response that had broken him, that she can hear thundering through his mind as she walks beside the air-thin imitation of a man. “I can’t.”

Ghostly Fritz looks so fine in his uniform, and that’s half of what breaks her heart. The cut of the jacket clings to the beauty of his body; but so does the blood that stains its every inch, and that he refuses to see. How could she love him when she couldn’t even trust him with the reason why she was weeping? The whispered stories of cousins in Warsaw and Berlin, and the silence that followed those stories. One final note from Aunt Esther, hurried hand across a ragged scrap of paper, explaining that tomorrow she would be put on a train.

Fritz didn’t know because she didn’t tell him, because he loved his country and was too simple to question what that meant. Perhaps you could love someone when you couldn’t trust them, perhaps you couldn’t stop yourself, but you couldn’t marry them.

He’s weeping as he walks around the corner. She has never seen him do that in life. And though she has seen fragments of the past walk beside her—old neighbours, younger selves, ghostly visions from centuries before—she has never seen one leave footprints as it passed. Yet there they are, laid out in the ashes, their edges shifting as a hot wind billows down the street. Sirens scream, bombs crash, a chorus of engines roars across the sky, and she keeps walking, clutching her coat across her nightdress, because if he could touch the world then perhaps she can touch him one last time, can hold him close and mumble into the scent of his chest, can tell him how sorry she is.

Another crash, closer than the rest. The blast hurls her down in a spray of ashes, the taste of ruin on her tongue. She pushes herself upright, stares around, but he’s gone. The ghosts only walk with her as long as she walks with them.

Gone again. In the shelter of her pocket, her fingers tighten around the other letter, the one from his mother, a woman who couldn’t look Helga in the eye. Eastern front. Partisans. Saving his comrades. No body to send home, but a medal to hang on his mother’s wall.

No medals for any of the people Helga has lost. But if the government knew where to send them then she wouldn’t be here anymore.

She prays out loud for the first time in years. It can’t matter who hears her. Fritz is gone. Her family is gone. The city will soon follow. She runs a trembling finger around a footprint he left, one last moment of connection while she waits for the bombs and the fire to find her.

More footprints follow, on through the ash and across ruins. How can his ghost have left footprints where it hadn’t even walked? She looks more closely. These prints are smaller than his feet. Were the others too? Has she been fooling herself again?

Still she follows, because he led her to this and because she needs something to cling to amid the roaring of the engines, the bombs, the wind, amid silhouettes of broken walls backlit by the inferno. The footsteps lead her onto the ruins of a factory that was built on the ruins of a synagogue.

A body lies slumped across the rubble, an old woman with her clothes half burned off, hand and cheek blistered, hair scorched away. Helga has seen her passing in the street, but had no idea that they would mumble the same prayers as their end approached.

She thinks of Fritz carrying her giggling down a street. What terrible things did those arms do that were once her sanctuary? Still, she mimics that strength, scoops up the old woman and holds her close. Past their footsteps, she sees a single line of darkness through the blazing night. Perhaps there is a path out of all of this, perhaps there isn’t, but she will walk it either way.

***

This story uses similar themes and fantastical elements to my new novella, Walking a Wounded Land, which was published last weekend. I hadn’t expected to do any more with that story’s magic, but then I sat down to write and discovered I wasn’t done with it yet. So if you enjoyed this story, then you might also want to check out Walking a Wounded Land.

And if you’d like more short fiction from me, you can sign up to my mailing list to get a flash story straight to your inbox every month as well as updates on my books.

The post Footsteps Written in Ash – a fantasy short story appeared first on Andrew Knighton Writes.

Ghosts linger amid the fields and streets of England, waiting to be summoned by those who can walk their paths. Paul is one of the walkers, returned home to follow in a friend’s last footsteps and learn how he died. But the land is a place of conflict, caught between connection and control. To find peace, Paul will have to confront his own past and other people’s power, in a poignant tale of grief, justice, and walking your own path.

My novella Walking a Wounded Land is out now!

A contemporary fantasy about walking and our connection to the land, it’s part of the Wiz Duos series from Wizard’s Tower Press. These are books that combine two novellas by different authors, so you get two stories for the price of one. Mine sits alongside Ruthanna Emrys’s The Sheltering Flame, a magical story about found family and people taking care of one another, which I’d be recommending even if we didn’t share a cover. Together, the two stories explore topics of landscape, power, and dissent, all through the medium of fantasy.

I’m delighted to be published by Wizard’s Tower, who publish one of my favourite series, Juliet E. McKenna’s Green Man, and who have been a key part of the British sffh scene for years. The book launched at World Fantasy Con 2025, with a well-attended launch event and a reading in the evening, which would have gone a lot smoother if not for a wedding disco next door! And it seems to be going down well with readers…

“Two gorgeously written novellas exploring the ways that our connections to the land and to each other can be broken but also mended, these stories tell of bargains and sacrifices, and ultimately of hopeful futures.” – Sarah Brooks, author of The Cautious Traveller’s Guide to the Wastelands

“Beautiful and haunting.” – Anna Smith Spark, author of A Sword of Bronze and Ashes

“A story that reminds us of the permanence of dreams and the determination of the human spirit. You’ll never walk Britain’s pathways the same again.” – Charlotte Bond, author of The Fireborne Blade

“Beautiful in cadence, powerful in imagery, gentle in spirit, Andrew Knighton’s work takes your heart’s ghosts on dances of things lost.” — Danie Ware, author of the Ecko trilogy

If that’s whetted your appetite, more information and bookshop links can be found here.

The post Out Now: Walking a Wounded Land appeared first on Andrew Knighton Writes.

When Clifford crash lands on the planet of Abaddon, he might as well be dead: a terrible plague and a strict quarantine mean that no one leaves Abaddon alive.

Clifford isn’t the only dead man walking. Corporate mercenaries and desperate survivors are looking for ways to live in a hostile world. Constantly on the run from flesh-hungry monsters, there’s no chance to escape or to build something more.

But when Clifford makes a discovery that could change the meaning of Abaddon, loyalty clashes with survival in a story about how to live with the certainty of death.

My first science fiction novella, All That Is in the Earth, is coming from Luna Press Publishing in February, and it’s now available for preorder. A story about a strange disease and the stranger people trying to survive, it’s a reflection on how we face death wrapped up in a far future adventure story. If you like strong things and dramatic worlds, then this is one for you.

I’m delighted to be working with Luna Press again, and looking forward to seeing this out in the world.

Preorders are available at:

Paperback via the Luna Press store.

Kobo ebook

Kindle ebook

The post All That Is in the Earth available for preorder appeared first on Andrew Knighton Writes.

Gillie tipped her head back and opened her eyes wide, taking in the wonders of the hiring fair. The chatter of the crowd and the songs of bards; the smells of fresh pastries and foreign spices; the dragon at the far end of field, wings wide as it clawed the heavens. Gillie had never seen a dragon before, and her heart beat faster at the sight.

“Stay close,” Mama said, squeezing Gillie’s hand as she pushed Gillie’s brother Barg ahead of them.

They walked past the soldiers by the road, a drachenritter riding a huge bear and five archers standing around him, protection against the war hosts Papa warned about.

“Stay close,” Mama said, letting go of Gillie so she could steer Barg towards the hiring rings.

Gillie sniffed at a soft, yellow fruit, then stepped back as a stallholder eyed her suspiciously.

“Stay close,” Mama said, peering at the trade banners above the rings.

At last, Gillie slipped away between the legs of the crowd.

She had seen wyverns, of course, soaring between the mountains above their farm. She had almost touched a gryphon once, on the road to Alvard, before Papa hurried her away. And the bear at the gate had been impressive, though its expression reminded her of the goats back home, which grumbled and kicked until she laid her hands on them and let calm flow into their minds. But she’d never seen a dragon, and she wasn’t going to miss her chance.

The good thing about being small was that you could get around without being noticed, whether that was in the woods or a crowd. The bad thing was the risk of getting knocked over by inattentive strangers. Even Barg did it sometimes, which seemed to be part of why he was going out to apprentice. Gillie didn’t really understand that part, and she didn’t much mind. Barg was no dragon.

It was hard to see her prize past so many tall people, like trying to see the mountaintop through the forest. Gillie wormed her way through the crowd, mostly unseen and occasionally protested at, until she emerged at the edge of the rope ring that dragon and rider stood in. The beast was saddled and a chain ran from its collar to the armoured drachenritter by its feet. It towered over the growing crowd with an expression that also reminded Gillie of the goats, the look they got when too many people came close.

The drachenritter was shouting about the wars, about fighting for home and for Father Earth, about terrible atrocities and brave adventures. He kept raising his voice and the noise of the crowd grew, like agitated sheep bleating over each other. That agitation spread to the dragon, which swung its tail and snapped at the air. The drachenritter was too busy speaking to notice, so Gillie stepped forward to help.

A hand gripped her shoulder.

“Stay close,” a man said. “If you go past the rope, that beast will gobble you down.”

Gillie tried to tell him why she had to get closer, but it was too late. The dragon wrenched its chain from the drachenritter’s hand and blew a sheet of flames. Its wings spread wide, knocking the drachenritter off his feet, and it stomped towards the crowd.

People screamed, which made the dragon more anxious. They ran, which gave it more targets to chase.

Gillie was scared, of course. She could tell from the choking beat of her heart and the way her fingers trembled. Papa had taught her how to know what she felt, like he’d taught her to plant corn and to talk to the minds of goats. Fear made her want to run, but she’d never seen a dragon before, and she might never see one again. So she planted her feet, held out her hand, and gazed up at the beast.

Just like adults, the dragon didn’t notice Gillie, too busy roaring and snapping at people’s heels. A shadow passed over her and leathery feet clawed the ground to either side. As its belly loomed over her head, she reached up, mouth wide with wonder, and touched those beautiful scales.

Frustration ran from the dragon down Gillie’s arm, through her body and into her head. She matched it to a feeling of her own, the frustration that came when her parents said she was too small for a task on the land, that it should be done by stupid, lumbering Barg. The dragon stopped moving, then twisted its neck around to look at what stood below.

Gillie smiled as she stared into those enormous, cat-like eyes, trying not to thinking about the bared teeth. Then she found another feeling, the satisfaction that came when she proved everyone wrong and did the work she was too small for. A smug calm followed, which she shared with the dragon, a gift from one mind to another.

The dragon closed its mouth, took a step sideways, and settled on the ground next Gillie.

“You’re brilliant,” Gillie said, running a hand along the dragon’s side. “I’m going to remember this feeling forever.”

“Gillie!” Mama ran across the field and swept her up, voice shrill and face red.

“Quiet, Mama, you’ll upset the dragon,” Gillie said, though Mama was probably too small for the dragon to care about.

The drachenritter approached, rubbing his shoulder. He raised an eyebrow as he looked at the dragon, at the distantly cowering crowd, and finally at Gillie.

“You did this?” he asked.

Gillie nodded. “Papa taught me.”

“Stay close,” the drachenritter said to Mama. “We’ll talk about an apprenticeship.”

***

If you enjoyed this story and you’d like to read more like it, then you can sign up to my mailing list, where you’ll get a flash story straight to your inbox every month as well as updates on my books. And if you’re looking for something else to read in the meantime…

***

In a mountain city where monsters go to die, Lena Sturm is hiding from her past. But when she discovers that she has executed an innocent woman, guilt drives her to seek out the real murderer. A mad alchemist, a zealous bishop, and a ruthless crime lord all become suspects as Lena investigates a mystery she’s been told to leave alone.

But Lena isn’t the only one with an interest in the crime. When an army arrives outside the city walls, using justice as an excuse for invasion, the need to find the truth becomes desperate. With dragon fire and cannon shot threatening Unteholz, can Lena save the city without sacrificing the cause of justice?

The Executioner’s Blade, a high fantasy murder mystery, out now from Northodox Press:

Paperback.

Ebook.

The post Stay Close – a fantasy short story appeared first on Andrew Knighton Writes.

I seem to be doing a lot of author events at the moment. Here’s one more, for anyone down near Hull…

The post Humber SFF – Beverley, 12 October appeared first on Andrew Knighton Writes.