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A moment before his death, Mad King Randor hit Emily with a powerful curse.
She's lost her magic. She's losing her mind. She may soon lose her life.

   Book 17 in the Schooled in Magic series.



Book Excerpt


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Author News







Christopher G. Nuttall




Cabiria didn't want to remember being sixteen. But she couldn't help herself.

She had always loved House Fellini's library. It was a monumental collection of books, all the more remarkable for the texts having been written, published and purchased well before the printing press had been invented and thousands of books had become available to all and sundry. Cabiria loved to stand by the shelves and run her hands over the books, yanking her hand away when charms and curses threatened her. As she'd grown older, she'd learned to read some of the oldest books in the world, ones that had been written by magicians whose names had passed into legend. She spoke five languages fluently and read three more, two of which were only spoken by a handful of scholars. It was easy to believe that all the knowledge of the world was concealed within the library stacks. She could have happily spent all of her life in the wonderful room.

But, as she'd aged, she'd come to realize that not all answers were found within the collection of aging books.

She had never doubted she would have magic, not until puberty had come and gone without even a hint of power crackling around her fingers. She'd muttered spells and chanted long incantations, drawn runes and performed rituals - including some she wasn't supposed to know existed - without summoning enough magic to light a candle. Her parents had told her, at first, that it was just a matter of time. Later, when they'd thought she couldn't hear, they'd fretted about their youngest daughter's lack of magic. It wasn't uncommon for a child to have less power than her parents, particularly if her family had put bloodlines over breeding like so many magical families had before they discovered that it actually weakened the magic, but for a child to have no magic at all? It was almost completely unprecedented. Cabiria herself was the only known case within recorded history.

Not that her family was cruel to her, of course. Cabiria's parents never even hinted at disowning her, despite hints from some of their more distant family members that - perhaps - Cabiria should be sent elsewhere. Her father had fought a duel with a distant relative after he'd suggested, perhaps a little too loudly, that his wife had cheated on him. Cabiria's sisters had protected her, as had her cousins. She still smiled at the memory of Cousin Alexi nearly killing one of his friends - his former friends - after the brat had played a particularly spiteful prank on her. But ...

Cabiria sat in the library, trying to remember the feeling of wonder she'd once felt when she'd gazed upon the bookshelves. She was sixteen, old enough to expect an invitation to Whitehall or Mountaintop or even - perhaps - Stronghold. But the invitation would not come if she couldn't draw even a spark of magic from her powerless bones. She would grow into adulthood and then ... what? She would never be a part of magical society, not without power. She would be forever on the sidelines, looking in. Her family would be good to her, she knew, but ... it wasn't what she wanted.

And my one hope of being normal, she thought, is to take a terrible risk.

She heard the door open, heard someone walk towards her. She didn't have to lift her head to know that it was Allophone, her eldest sister. Allophone was everything Cabiria wanted to be, a girl who had been favored with everything from good looks to powerful magic. And she wasn't even cruel. Allophone treated her young and powerless sister as if she were made of fine china.

"They're ready," Allophone said, quietly. She placed a hand on Cabiria's shoulder. "You don't have to do this, you know?"

"I do," Cabiria said.

The words hung in the air between them. She had never told her sister - could never tell her - but she resented her kindness and decency more than she cared to admit. She wasn't a helpless child. She didn't need to be coddled, to be wrapped in protective spells and guarded every time she walked out of the mansion. And yet, she knew she was vulnerable. She was the blind girl in the kingdom of the sighted, forever at the mercy of those who could use magic. Better to take the risk of death - or worse - than spend the rest of her life without power.

"It's risky," Allophone said. "Uncle Alanson said ..."

"I know what he said," Cabiria snapped.

She caught herself, biting her lip hard. Uncle Alanson, Patriarch of House Fellini, had been even more driven than Cabiria's parents to find a solution to her woes. It had been he, more than anyone else, who had drawn up the rituals to try to find, somewhere within her, a spark of power. Cabiria loved him for it. He could have pushed her parents to disown her. The hell of it was that he might have been right. House Fellini could not afford whispers about weak blood and powerless magicians. Too many people were already starting to talk.

"Come on, then," Allophone said.

Cabiria stood, ignoring her sister's attempts to help her up. Gods! She wasn't a cripple. Her legs worked fine. She didn't need a flying carpet to get up the stairs, or sneak down in the middle of the night for a snack. Allophone let out a faint sound - Cabiria didn't care to wonder what it was - and followed Cabiria as she stalked out of the room. The hallway felt ... cold, as always. Cabiria knew they were surrounded by powerful wards, spells that her family had been weaving for generations, but she couldn't feel them. There were parts of the mansion where she simply couldn't go without walking into danger. The last time she'd triggered a trap, she'd been frozen for hours before her parents had found her.

The spellchamber felt creepy, as always, as she walked into the underground chamber. Her uncle stood in the exact center, carefully drawing out a handful of chalk runes on the stone floor. He'd wanted to use iron, claiming that it would help channel the power, but Cabiria's parents had said no. It was too dangerous, they'd insisted. Cabiria's cheeks burned as she remembered the discussion. Allophone had been experimenting with more dangerous substances than cold iron well before she'd gone to Whitehall ...

"Cabiria, my favorite niece," Alanson said. He was a handsome dark-haired man, with a roguish smile that belied his kind nature. He'd never married, even though his family had expected it. "Are you ready?"

"Yes, Uncle," Cabiria said, as she took her place in the circle. Uncle Alanson was the only person who treated her as if she was a living person, rather than a fragile doll. She loved him for that, too. He hadn't spent the endless rehearsals talking about risks. "I'm ready."

"Be careful," Allophone said. She retreated towards the door as Uncle Alanson raised his wand. "And good luck."

Cabiria felt a flicker of nervousness, even as she braced herself for another crushing disappointment. Her parents and close relatives kept trying, but ... she feared, deep inside, they were starting to give up. The mystery of her lack of power might never be solved, nor might she ever have magic.

To hell with the risks. She would take her chances. And if she died, she died.

"And now," Uncle Alanson said. Bright light flared around him. "We begin."

Cabiria felt, just for a second, as if her skin were on fire. Something was ... crawling over her, something she could feel even though she couldn't see anything. The light grew brighter, forcing her to squeeze her eyes tightly shut. And yet ... she found, to her horror, that she couldn't move. Someone screamed, the sound echoing through her ears and pounding into her skull. She thought it was her, but ... she wasn't sure. The world spun around her, as if she was standing on the deck of a ship during a storm ...

... Someone was laughing. She could hear someone laughing ...

... And then her mother pulled at her arms, yanking her up. "Cabiria! Cabiria!"

Cabiria opened her eyes, unsure of when she'd closed them. Her memories were so confused, so blurred, that - for a moment - she thought she must have dreamed everything. And yet, as she forced herself to sit up, it was clear the spellchamber had been devastated. The runes and glyphs on the walls were gone, wiped out of existence by the forces Uncle Alanson had unleashed. The walls were scorched black, even though they'd been designed to stand firm against the strongest and deadliest of magics. And the floor was covered in black ash ...

She looked down at herself, wonderingly. Her robes were covered in ash and soot, but otherwise intact. Her skin was unmarked. She was alive ...

"He's dead," a voice said. It took Cabiria a moment to realize that her father was talking, his strong voice echoing in the giant chamber. "Alanson is dead. Burned to ash!"

"And he nearly took Cabiria with him," her mother snapped. "No more experiments, do you understand me? No more!"

Cabiria looked down at her fingers. They had always been long and thin - magician's hands, Uncle Alanson had said - but now ... they felt different. She had always hated her hands - their mere existence mocked her - yet ... they tingled, as if power was spreading through her skin and bones. Quietly, wonderingly, she muttered a spell. The room filled with brilliant white light.

Her father shouted and her mother cried, but Cabiria barely noticed. Her fingertips were sparkling with power. Light danced over her bare skin. She could feel the power within her. She had power. She finally had power.

No, not power.

Uncle Alanson had died to give her magic.


Chapter One

Emily sat in bed, staring at her fingers.

They were long and slender, the skin pale and smooth despite six years of magic and mayhem. Magician's hands, they'd been called. Emily could have been a surgeon or a pianist on Earth, but instead ... she was a magician. She took a long breath, then started to chant a spell that she'd memorized six years ago. Her fingers moved in perfect lines, crafting and directing the spell, but nothing happened. No power crackled around her fingertips. No magic sparked forth to do her will. She might as well have been playacting.

I was a magician, she thought, numbly. A week of being powerless, of being without magic, had left her feeling drained and numb. Her thoughts moved sluggishly, when they moved at all. It had been hard to get out of bed, let alone attend to the growing list of problems she had to handle. I was a magician and now I'm ...

She closed her eyes, going all the way back to first principles. She'd been taught how to build a spell up from scratch, how to shape the magic before she'd grown used to channeling her power instinctively, as easily as she'd breathed. Her magic had been a part of her, something she could move at will. Now ... she felt crippled. The power within her, the power she'd learned to sense and cultivate, was gone. Her senses felt muffled, blind. She knew the stone walls were crawling with wards - some designed to keep her safe, some designed to hide her condition from unfriendly eyes - but she couldn't sense them any longer. It reminded her of the days when she'd first come to the Nameless World, when she'd been scared to touch anything for fear of setting off a trap. Now ... she was afraid to touch anything. Again.

The spell echoed in her mind. She cast it carefully, with all the precision she could muster after six years of training, giving it the care and attention she'd never had to after she'd managed to get in touch with her magic. The casting was perfect - she knew it was perfect - but nothing happened.

A wave of despondency crashed over her as she dropped her hands into her lap. The knowledge she'd gathered over the last six years, some of it dangerously won, was useless.

She was powerless.

Emily closed her eyes for a long moment, then opened them and looked around the room, searching for a distraction. But the room's mere existence taunted her. The lanterns glowed with magical light, but she hadn't cast the spells. She hadn't carved the runes on the walls. She hadn't even lit the fire in the fireplace! It wasn't her room. Alassa had promised her a suite of her own, but ... it wouldn't be hers. She was nothing more than an unwanted guest.

You're being unfair, she told herself. Alassa had been nothing but kind to her over the past week, even though she was very busy. The civil war might be over, yet there was no shortage of work. Reconstructing Zangaria would take years. Alassa offered to host you forever.

It was a bitter thought. Alassa meant well. Emily was certain of it. She had no doubt that her friend would do everything in her power to help. But the stone walls felt like a prison, a mocking reminder that Emily no longer had the power to shape her future. She was vulnerable, vulnerable in a way she hadn't been in six years. She felt as if she'd lost her confidence along with her magic. What was the point of struggling, she asked herself, if there was no hope of winning?

There was a tap on the door. Emily tensed, despite herself. Alassa and Jade had woven hundreds of protections into the castle, but they couldn't keep out everyone. How could they? Castle Alexis wasn't just the monarch's home, but the center of government for an entire country. The lower levels were crammed with everything from aristocratic parasites to common-born bureaucrats, the former trying to convince themselves that they were still important while the latter felt utterly underappreciated by their superiors. Emily was all too aware that someone with bad intentions probably could get into the castle, with a great deal of effort. Why not? It had happened before.

The door opened. Lady Barb stepped into the room.

Emily felt an urge to shrink back as her former teacher - the closest thing she'd ever had to a mother - closed the door and strode over to the bed. It was hard to escape the feeling that Emily had failed Lady Barb in some way, as if things might have been different if Emily had listened to the older magicians who'd told her to stay out of the civil war. But ... Emily knew, all too well, that she couldn't have made any other choice. Alassa and Jade were her friends. Emily had owed it to them to stand beside them when they'd gone to war against Alassa's father. She could not have turned away.

Lady Barb had been badly injured during Fulvia's attack on Whitehall, but now ... it was hard to believe she'd ever been more than scratched. She was still tall and muscular, with long blonde hair and a stern - almost patrician - face. The robes she wore were loose, designed to allow her to move freely; the sword at her belt was a sign she knew how to defend herself with and without magic. And her utter confidence in herself was daunting to those who didn't know her. Only a handful of people had ever underestimated Lady Barb, Emily knew, and none had made the same mistake twice. There were girls at Whitehall who wanted to be Lady Barb when they grew up. Emily knew how they felt.

She looked down, unwilling to meet her tutor's gaze. Her body felt ... wrong, somehow. She'd been hurt - badly - during the fight with Mad King Randor, but the injuries hadn't healed as quickly as they should. The healers had done all they could, mending broken bones and repairing damaged tissues, yet they hadn't done a perfect job. Emily wondered, morbidly, if her magic had helped her heal every other time she'd been badly injured. Magicians lived a long time, even without life-prolonging spells. Perhaps their magic countered the onset of old age.

"Emily," Lady Barb said. Her voice was stern and unyielding, but Emily could hear the hint of compassion. "Look at me."

Emily looked up, reluctantly. She felt ... she felt vulnerable. Too vulnerable. She knew Lady Barb would never hurt her, would never do anything to her that was not for her own good, but she still felt vulnerable. Defenseless. All of her weapons, magical and mundane alike, were gone. The healers had even confiscated the virgin blade she'd carried in her sleeve. She knew why they'd done it - the waves of despondency and depression had only grown stronger since she'd lost her magic - but she resented it. There was no way she could put up even a token fight against someone who wanted her dead.

She should be pleased to see Lady Barb. She knew she should be pleased - and relieved - to see Lady Barb. But ...

"Tell me what happened," Lady Barb said. Her expression was compassionate. It didn't help. "Please."

Emily took a breath and rattled through the whole story, starting with the discovery that King Randor was practicing necromancy to the final desperate battle inside the castle. She left out nothing, knowing - from long experience - that the older woman wouldn't be satisfied with anything less than the complete truth. Lady Barb listened, saying nothing, as Emily told her about the final seconds, before Randor exploded and she blacked out. She remembered nothing between her collapse and waking up in Alassa's bed.

"I don't think you burned yourself out," Lady Barb said, when she'd finished. "You'd probably be insane by now."

Emily choked down a sound that was both a laugh and a sob. She was insane, by the standards of her new world. The natives didn't understand her reasoning, didn't understand her social attitudes ... they didn't understand why she befriended commoners, or helped them to succeed, or ... or anything. She'd grown up on a world where social mores were very different. How could she share their attitudes toward life?

"I don't feel insane," she managed. "But ..."

She looked around the spare room. Normally, lying in a healer's bed would have driven her mad. She would have demanded something to do, even if it was just being given a stack of books from the castle's library. She wouldn't have minded - much - if someone had provided her with a stock of cheaply-bound blue books from the nearby printers, if it gave her something to keep distracted. But instead ... she'd practically spent the last week in bed, staring up at the barren ceiling. Her friends - even Cat, her semi-boyfriend - hadn't been able to get her out of her funk. She'd been too depressed to care.

"You're not screaming at the walls or lashing out at the maids," Lady Barb said. "And we're not shipping you off to the Halfway House."

Emily snorted. She'd heard too many horror stories to take that entirely seriously. "And there are so many people who do abuse the maids that they might just be the sane ones."

She felt her eyes narrow. "Are you going to send me to the Halfway House?"

"No," Lady Barb said. The Halfway House was - in theory - a place for people who had been afflicted with unbreakable curses, who could neither be cured nor allowed to live freely. In practice, it was more like a bedlam straight out of Oliver Twist. "I don't think they'd be able to do anything to help you."

"I don't know if anyone can," Emily said. "I just feel ..."

Lady Barb's lips thinned. "I have to examine you," she said. "Get up."

Emily hesitated, but she knew better than to disobey. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood, feeling her legs threatening to buckle as she smoothed her nightdress. It felt alarmingly thin. Lady Barb looked her up and down, frowning in disapproval. Emily felt a stab of guilt, mingled with fear. Lady Barb was a product of her society, too. What must she feel when confronted with a cripple? The Nameless World wasn't kind to cripples.

It isn't kind to anyone, Emily thought. The aristocrats and magicians had power, but they also had social obligations. Commoners ... had no rights at all. They sometimes lived so close to the edge they had no choice but to discard anyone who couldn't work. A cripple would be lucky if he wasn't put outside to starve. What will happen to me when the truth comes out?

She gritted her teeth as Lady Barb produced a long silver wand and started to wave it over Emily's body. No one, apart from her closest friends, knew what had happened to her ... but it was only a matter of time until the truth came out. She was - perhaps - the most famous person in the Nameless World, with a string of titles she'd been given by bards and broadsheet writers. There were probably already rumors spreading through the Nameless World. And someone - sooner or later - would try to test them.

"Interesting," Lady Barb said.

Emily cursed under her breath. Her skin should have tingled as the wand performed its magic. She should have felt something. Her magic should have responded to the probe. God knew there had been times when she'd been told to hold her magic under firm control while the healers had done their work. But now ... there was nothing. She shivered helplessly, despite the warmth from the fire. A first-year student could turn her into a frog with the snap of her fingers. She hated to think what an adult magician could do.

"Interesting indeed," Lady Barb said. "Have you had any other problems? Aches and pains? Trouble with going to the toilet? Anything?"

"Nothing apart from having to use a chamberpot," Emily said. She didn't care what anyone said about it. Chamberpots were disgusting. But the castle had been built long before anyone had seen the wisdom in installing toilets, let alone hot and cold running water. "Some of the potions didn't seem to work quite right, though."

"They must have been brewed for a magician," Lady Barb said. She motioned for Emily to turn around, then ran her finger down Emily's spine. "They're not always so effective on mundanes."

Emily flinched. "I didn't know ..."

"It's something healers and alchemists learn, when they start their apprenticeships," Lady Barb said. She squeezed Emily's arm, gently, then muttered a handful of spells. Nothing happened. "The potions you were taught to brew in school were very basic, but these ... these can be quite sensitive to levels of ambient magic."

She let out a long breath. "Sit down."

Emily sat, feeling drained. "What did you find?"

"Something that doesn't quite make sense," Lady Barb said. "You should be a magician. You should have magic. But I can't detect any magic. It's odd."

"Odd," Emily repeated. It was a matter of life and death. She wanted to shout, but she was too tired. "What does it mean?"

Lady Barb's voice was somber. "Alassa told me that your ... familiar is still a bracelet," she said. "How are you maintaining the spell?"

Emily blinked in shock. Her familiar - Aurelius the Death Viper - spent most of his time as a transfigured bracelet. Emily might be safe from his poisonous touch, but anyone else who picked him up would be lucky if they only lost a hand. Death Vipers were amongst the most dangerous beasts known to exist. But the spell should have run out of magic and faded to nothingness a long time ago. Emily hadn't protested when they'd taken the bracelet away. It was better to make very sure that no one got near it.

But if the snake was still a bracelet ... she felt a flicker of hope. Where did the magic come from? Her?

"It's possible that the snake's own magic is maintaining the spell," Lady Barb said, mercilessly. "But it is odd, to say the least."

Yeah, Emily thought, as the hope faded and died. It is odd ...

"I think Randor hit you with a death curse," Lady Barb said. "Casting a spell powered by his own death would be difficult, but ... he was not inept. He knew he was going to die and ... thanks to his necromancy, he had power to spare. Death curses are nasty things. They can be dangerously unpredictable."

Emily swallowed. She'd heard some of the stories. There were others, she'd been told, that were never told to unqualified magicians. It was hard to imagine what sort of horrors were kept concealed, not when the stories were told to warn magicians of the dangers they faced on a regular basis. Death curses were rare. It required a special kind of magician to shape the spell, knowing that his death was only seconds away.

And knowing that he has made his death certain by casting the spell, Emily thought. King Randor had never struck her as someone who was prepared to accept his own death. He'd fought savagely to preserve a social structure that was already doomed. He put his own daughter in prison rather than admit that times were changing ...

"Beyond that, I'm not sure," Lady Barb said. "It's possible that it might have stripped you of your power, although the shock should have driven you insane. It's also possible that the curse might be drawing on your power, ensuring you can't do anything else. Or ... it might have simply blocked you from using your magic. There are spells that do, as you know."

"Spells that wear off," Emily said. "Or spells that can be removed."

"Yes," Lady Barb said. "But I tried a couple of counterspells and neither of them produced anything. That means ..."

She paused, significantly. "If your ability to use magic is blocked, Emily, it will ... it will build up inside your head. Right now, you don't even have any wards you can use to channel and absorb the power. Sooner or later, the power will burst out of you."

"It might take the curse with it," Emily said, hopefully.

"It might take you with it," Lady Barb said, flatly. "No, it will take you with it. There have been cases - a handful of cases - where someone had their powers blocked and they ..."

She kept talking, but Emily barely heard her. She'd lost her powers. And she might be about to lose her life.

"Emily," Lady Barb said. "Are you listening to me?"

"Go away." Emily slipped her legs back under the covers, then reached for the blanket. She just wanted to hide. "Please."

Lady Barb snorted. "Emily ..."

"Go away," Emily repeated.

The older woman seemed to hesitate - Emily could almost see the wheels spinning inside her mind - and then left the room. Emily watched the door close with a sensation of relief, as misplaced as she knew it was. She wanted - no, needed - to be alone. She wasn't sure what she wanted. She could feel despair bubbling up at the back of her mind as she pulled the covers over her head. She could hear voices outside the room, too low for her to make out what they were saying, but she didn't care. It would be easy, so easy, to simply give up ...

There was a crash as the door opened, then shut. Emily looked out, surprised.





Author Bio

Christopher G. Nuttall is thirty-two years old and has been reading science fiction since he was five, when someone introduced him to children's SF. Born in Scotland, Chris attended schools in Edinburgh, Fife and University in Manchester ... before moving to Malaysia to live with his wife Aisha.

Chris has been involved in the online Alternate History community since 1998; in particular, he was the original founder of Changing The Times, an online alternate history website that brought in submissions from all over the community. Later, Chris took up writing and eventually became a full-time writer.

Chris has produced The Empire's Corps series, the Outside Context Problem series and many others. He is also responsible for two fan-made Posleen novels, both set in John Ringo's famous Posleen universe. They can both be downloaded from his site.

Discussion Forum

TTB titles:

Schooled in Magic fantasy series
  Lessons in Etiquette  book 2
  Study in Slaughter  book 3
  Work Experience  book 4
  The School of Hard Knocks  book 5
  Love's Labor's Won  book 6
  Trial By Fire  book 7
  Wedding Hells  book 8
  Infinite Regress  book 9
  Past Tense  book 10
  The Sergeant's Apprentice  book 11
  Fists of Justice  book 12
  The Gordian Knot  book 13
  Graduation Day  book 14
  Alassa's Tale  book 14.5
  The Princess in the Tower  book 15
  The Broken Throne  book 16
  Cursed  book 17
  Mirror Image  book 18
  The Artful Apprentice  book 19
  Oathkeeper  book 20
  Little Witches  book 21
  The Right Side of History  book 22
  The Face of the Enemy  book 23
  Child of Destiny  book 24
  The Demon's Design  book 25
  The Apprentice Mistress  book 26

The Decline and Fall of the Galactic Empire military SF series
  Barbarians at the Gates  book 1
  The Shadow of Cincinnatus  book 2
  The Barbarian Bride  book 3

Author web site.




Cursed Copyright 2019. Christopher Nuttall. All rights reserved by the author. Please do not copy without permission.


To order this book:
Format: ePub, PDF, HTML, Kindle/Mobi
    Payment Method
PayPal -or- credit card -or- via Amazon Kindle;; Apple iBookstore; Nook; Kobo Books
List Price: $6.50 USD


  Author News


Christopher has a number of interesting articles up at his blog, The Chrishanger.

"The Stronghold Academy of Martial Arts"

"Emily's Finances"

"Religion in the Nameless World

"The Military in the Nameless World - A Very Brief Overview"

"Wedding Hells: Randor and Alicia"

"Past Tense: Freedom and (Women's) Rights"

"Wedding Hells Appendix (II) - History Exam"

"Idle Musings (SIM 10)"

"Whitehall's Liability Insurance"

"Emily and the Barony of Cockatrice"

"Bonus Material: Whitehall History Essay Question"

"Schooled in Magic: Jade, Emily and Alassa" [Warning: spoilers]

"Deconstructing Emily" [...There are a handful of spoilers for Books 1-6, so read carefully.]

"Love's Labor's Won: Playing the Blame Game [Warning; spoilers!]

"Christmas Post: Five Things that Could Have Happened to Emily"

"The Tragedy of Marius Drake [Warning: massive spoilers in this post.]

"Meet My Character Blog Hop" [Master Tor]

"Draft Afterword (I)" [Cincinnatus]

"But What Do We Do on Our Hols? An Introduction to Lessons in Etiquette"

"The Free City of Beneficence" [A new setting for Schooled in Magic.]

"An Introduction to Schooled in Magic"



"When did you start writing and what got you into fantasy?"
Author interview on Blogcritics

"When did you decide you wanted to become an author?"
Author interview on Blogger News

Character interview with Princess Alassa on Beyond the Books

"Deconstructing Emily" blog post

"Schooled in Magic is a fantasy book, but it draws extensively from real history."
Guest post on As the Page Turns

"The Inspiration behind 'Trial by Fire' by Christopher Nuttall"
Guest post on Review From Here

"The Story behind 'Trial by Fire' by Christopher Nuttall"
Guest post on The Story Behind the Book

"I was asked, at Ravencon, just what makes an indie writer successful.
I think they were hoping I'd know some great secret to success that I could tell them."
Guest post on The Writer's Life eMagazine

"No matter how well you write, you will get bad reviews."
Author Christopher G. Nuttall discusses The Decline & Fall
of the Galactic Empire novels in an interview with Edinburgh49

Trial By Fire chapter reveal on Plug Your Book






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