#Extract The Dark Earth by Gordon Doherty (Empires of Bronze #6)

It’s a pleasure to be joining the publication day celebrations for The Dark Earth by Gordon Doherty, the sixth and epic finale to his ‘Empires of Bronze’ series. Gordon is the author of the ‘Legionary’ and ‘Strategos’ series and, along with Simon Turney, forms the dream team behind the ‘Rise of Emperors’ series. Follow the links from the titles to read my reviews of The Blood Road (Legionary #7) and Masters of Rome (Rise of Emperors #2).

I’m delighted to be able to bring you an excerpt from The Dark Earth which you can read below. The Dark Earth is available to purchase now from Amazon UK and other retailers.


The Dark EarthAbout the Book

The time will come, as all times must, when the world will shake, and fall to dust…

1237 BC: It is an age of panic. The great empires are in disarray – ravaged by endless drought, shaken by ferocious earthquakes and starved of precious tin. Some say the Gods have abandoned mankind.

When Tudha ascends the Hittite throne, the burden of stabilising the realm falls upon his shoulders. Despite his valiant endeavours, things continue to disintegrate; allies become foes, lethal plots arise, and enemy battle horns echo across Hittite lands.

Yet this is nothing compared to the colossal, insidious shadow emerging from the west. Crawling unseen towards Tudha’s collapsing Hittite world comes a force unlike any ever witnessed; an immeasurable swarm of outlanders, driven by the cruel whip of nature, spreading fire and destruction: the Sea Peoples.

Every age must end. The measure of a man is how he chooses to face it.

Format: ebook (478 pages)
Publication date: 26th May 2022 Genre: Historical Fiction

Find The Dark Earth on Goodreads


Extract from The Dark Earth by Gordon Doherty

Darkness fell and the blizzard hissed over the col. The Hittite soldiers hunkered down around a fire, pinching their hands for heat. Prince Tudha moved around the edges of the sheltered camp, thanking each man by name for their swiftness in tracking down the cattle rustlers. It was a technique King Hattu had taught him – to show them that they were more than just soldiers, to forge a bond. He spotted the granite-faced one again – the one who had been acting suspiciously all day. He realised that – to his shame – he didn’t know this man’s name. The mountain of muscle sat in just his leather kilt – no cloak for warmth – re-braiding his three pigtails.

‘What’s your name, soldier?’

The man looked up, sour at the interruption. ‘Skarpi.’

Tudha noticed how he seemed detached from the others. A loner. ‘You did well today. I will not forget your part in things.’

‘Hmm,’ the man said, then turned back to his braiding.

Bemused, Tudha left him to it rather than make an issue of his demeanour. Yet as he strolled away, he was certain – certain – that the man’s eyes were burning into his back.

‘My prince,’ called Heshni from the edge of the camp. He was beckoning Tudha over, shooting concerned looks past him and towards the spot where Skarpi was seated.

‘Who is that man?’ Tudha asked quietly as he neared his half-brother.

‘Skarpi? A nobody – son of a prostitute, some say. Lucky to be part of the Mesedi.’ Heshni eyed the surly soldier again sceptically, then beckoned Tudha towards the edge of the col. ‘Come, I wanted to show you something. Lights.’

‘Lights?’

‘I saw a torch, out there in the night, shining damply in the murk,’ Heshni explained, guiding Tudha forward, round the base of the col and down a loose track. Outside the lee of their camp, the storm roared, casting their long hair and cloaks horizontal. ‘I think the cattle thieves have doubled back,’ Heshni shouted to be heard in the scream of the blizzard. ‘They mean to steal from you again.’

‘Could they be so foolish?’ Tudha said, the snow stinging his bare arms and face. He could see nothing out there. ‘Where are these lights?’

‘There, look,’ Heshni said, pointing into the whiteout. He stepped aside to allow Tudha past to see for himself.

Tudha stared hard, but could see nothing except speeding white snow and darkness beyond. ‘I see no lights, and even if I could, I cannot believe that those men would risk their necks again. They knew how close they came to death today.’

‘If only you were so wise,’ Heshni purred from behind, the words underscored by the zing of a sword being plucked from its sheath.

Tudha swung on his heel, horrified by the sight of his half-brother, rising over him, teeth gritted in a snarl, blade plunging down towards his chest.

Blood erupted, hot and stinking. Tudha fell to his back, coughing, retching. Snow and blood all around…


Gordon DohertyAbout the Author

Gordon writes: “I’m a Scottish writer, addicted to reading and writing historical fiction. My love of history was first kindled by visits to the misty Roman ruins of Britain and the sun-baked antiquities of Turkey and Greece. My expeditions since have taken me all over the world and back and forth through time (metaphorically, at least), allowing me to write tales of the later Roman Empire, Byzantium, Classical Greece and even the distant Bronze Age.”

Connect with Gordon
Website | Twitter | Facebook | Instagram

#WWWWednesday – 25th May 2022

WWWWednesdays

Hosted by Taking on a World of Words, this meme is all about the three Ws:

  • What are you currently reading?
  • What did you recently finish reading?
  • What do you think you’ll read next?

Why not join in too?  Leave a comment with your link at Taking on a World of Words and then go blog hopping!


Currently reading

Twenty Eight Pounds Final CoverTwenty-Eight Pounds Ten Shillings: A Windrush Story by Tony Fairweather (eARC, HopeRoad Publishing)

After World War Two the call went out to the British Empire for volunteers to help rebuild the ‘Mother Country’. Young men and women from different Caribbean islands were quick to respond, paying the considerable sum of £28.10s to board HMT Empire Windrush – the ‘ship of dreams’ that would take them to their new lives.

The motives and back-stories of these West Indian people is a key part of the Windrush story, one that has never been fully told. This powerful narrative reveals what happened on board that ship, was packed with young, excited people who had never before left their parents, their parishes – let alone their islands. In the course of the memorable two-week voyage there were parties, friendships, fights, gambling, racism, sex – and discussions of God and love.

Portable MagicPortable Magic: A History of Books and their Readers by Emma Smith (Allen Lane)

Most of what we say about books is really about their contents: the rosy nostalgic glow for childhood reading, the lifetime companionship of a much-loved novel. But books are things as well as words, objects in our lives as well as worlds in our heads. And just as we crack their spines, loosen their leaves and write in their margins, so they disrupt and disorder us in turn. All books are, as Stephen King put it, ‘a uniquely portable magic’. In this thrilling new history, Emma Smith shows us why.

Portable Magic unfurls an exciting, iconoclastic and ambitious new story of the book in human hands, exploring when, why and how it acquired its particular hold over humankind. Gathering together a millennium’s worth of pivotal encounters with volumes big and small, Smith compellingly argues that, as much as their contents, it is books’ physical form – their ‘bookhood’ – that lends them their distinctive and sometimes dangerous magic. From the Diamond Sutra to Jilly Cooper’s Riders, to a book made of wrapped slices of cheese, Smith uncovers how this composite artisanal object has, for centuries, embodied and extended relationships between readers, nations, ideologies and cultures, in significant and unpredictable ways. She celebrates the rise of the mass-market paperback, and dismantles the myth that print began with Gutenberg; she reveals how our reading habits have been shaped by American soldiers, and proposes a new definition of a ‘classic’. Ultimately, Smith illuminates the ways in which our relationship with the written word is more reciprocal – and more turbulent – than we tend to imagine: for better or worse, books do not simply reflect humankind, but have also defined who we are, turning us into the readers they would like to have.


Recently finished

Only May by Carol Lovekin (Honno)

The White Girl by Tony Birch (HarperCollins)

Death and the Penguin by Andrey Kurkov (Vintage)

Viktor is an aspiring writer with only Misha, his pet penguin, for company. Although he would prefer to write short stories, he earns a living composing obituaries for a newspaper. He longs to see his work published, yet the subjects of his obituaries continue to cling to life. But when he opens the newspaper to see his work in print for the first time, his pride swiftly turns to terror. He and Misha have been drawn into a trap from which there appears to be no escape. (Review to follow)


What Cathy (will) Read Next

Young Women CoverYoung Women by Jessica Moor (eARC, Zaffre)

Everyone’s got that history, I guess. Everyone’s got a story.

When Emily meets the enigmatic and dazzling actress Tamsin, her life changes. Drawn into Tamsin’s world of Soho living, boozy dinners, and cocktails at impossibly expensive bars, Emily’s life shifts from black and white to technicolour and the two women become inseparable. Tamsin is the friend Emily has always longed for; beautiful, fun, intelligent and mysterious and soon Emily is neglecting her previous life – her work assisting vulnerable women, her old friend Lucy – to bask in her glow. But when a bombshell news article about a decades-old sexual assault case breaks, Emily realises that Tamsin has been hiding a secret about her own past. Something that threatens to unravel everything . . .