Blott: The Canvas Chronicles, #1

By Daniel Parsons

A BOY WITH A BEASTLY SECRET. A VILLAGE ON THE BRINK OF DESTRUCTION. A FINAL CHANCE TO SAVE THEM ALL.

Thirteen-year-old Blott Meritum has hidden his freakish ability since he was a toddler. However, as his people hurtle toward starvation, he has no option but to disobey his parents, leave his remote village, and take action.

He quickly learns the devastating consequences of this mistake. When everything unravels around him, and he puts everyone he loves in extreme danger, he discovers three things that will change his life forever.

1) The world outside the village harbours unexpected perils.

2) His forbidden ability has the potential to change his people's whole existence.

3) A sinister voice inside his head wants to unleash an unstoppable evil into the community.

With Blott's friends and family closer to oblivion than ever before, will he keep his humanity and save them? Or will he be consumed by the monster inside him?

Blott is the first book in the young adult fantasy series The Canvas Chronicles. If you like Eragon, Percy Jackson, or Artemis Fowl, then you'll love Daniel Parsons's original fantasy adventure.

Buy Blott to explore this exciting, magical world today!

• Language: English
• Publisher: AmWriting Ltd
• Release date: Nov 22, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386288602

Book preview

Prologue

D id you hear that?

The nomad scrambled along the chalk-white hillside to his wife. She was busy raiding a knotted shrub, her eager fingers working through its dusty leaves to check for berries. A second, almighty tearing sound made her stop. Blocking out the bright sky with her hand, she glanced up at her husband. His greying hair had become wispy over the past few months and now blended in with the sky’s perpetual mist. In the bright light of day, it was unclear where he ended and the clouds began.

Yeah, I heard it. You don’t think it’s a demon, do you?

No, he answered after a pause. It can’t be. We haven’t seen a demon for weeks and I’m sure we won’t see one today. No, this is different.

The air was filled with the peculiar sound. It never stopped, it just simmered down in the breaths between convulsions. The only thing they could compare it to was the slow ripping of cloth torn into short strips.

The nomad stuck out a thumb, gesturing to the other side of the steep dune on which they were perched. His other hand clung to the woven mesh of creamy ropes that covered the ground for as far as the eye could see in every direction.

Whatever it is, I think it’s over there. Come on. If we’re quick, we can get away before it sees us.

His wife straightened her caramel-coloured shawl over her mop of dark hair and shot him a familiar glance.

What? he asked, not liking her expression.

Meat. We haven’t had meat in weeks. We could eat it. Her eyes filled with excitement.

Yes, or it could eat us.

She paused, then said, I’m going to look.

What? No. Wait!

His words came out in a raspy breath, low enough so that the unknown monster wouldn’t hear him. Before he could reach out to grab her, she was already scrambling away. There was no choice but to follow.

I swear, he said as he scaled the dune, if we die I’m going to kill you when this is over.

When he reached her, his wife was statuesque, lying flat on the hillside. Only her head poked over the top. Her eyes were wide and unmoving, her thin lips hanging open in awe. Settling beside her, the nomad breathed heavily. He gasped and caught dust in the back of his throat. As he stifled a cough, his wife glanced back at him for the first time. She clamped a hand that smelled like earth over his mouth.

Shh, she hissed. You’re not going to believe this. It’s incredible.

Does it look tasty? he asked, wriggling out of her grasp. I hope it’s tasty… He raised his head. Woah.

The sight that greeted him was unlike anything he had ever seen. He and his tribe had been travelling the White Plains for as long as he could remember. They had spoken to other travellers, told legends around the campfire, and seen things none of them could explain. Nothing compared to this.

On the other side the hill, the land was moving. Not shaking, but actually moving. As if it were alive. The interlaced fibres that made up their world shifted and slid over one another, writhing like thousands of snakes. The phenomenon stretched for miles and gave the impression of fluidity, like the ground had turned to water. The nomad gulped. Now he understood the tearing sound.

Near the foot of the hill, the threads bulged with a pulse. Each time they throbbed, the tearing grew louder. It appeared as though something was tunnelling to the surface.

Impossible, whispered the nomad, wringing his grubby fingers. The others aren’t going to like this. We should leave.

Wait. Something’s happening.

His wife’s hand closed around his wrist.

Together, they watched as the ground blistered and the surface tore. Spewing from the frayed fibres, a pale body burst into the open air. It was small and humanoid, with gangly arms, covered in a layer of embryonic slime.

It’s a… child! the nomad’s wife said, keeping her voice low. Did it just come out of the ground?

I think it did, agreed her husband. We just watched… a birth – right from the Canvas itself!

The couple locked eyes.

You know what this means? the woman asked.

I do. But the others won’t believe us.

A shrill cry cut their conversation short and the couple focused back on the child. The nomad’s fingers trembled as he considered whether to turn and run or head towards the tiny figure. It looked so helpless, sobbing and shivering in a pool of its own juices.

We have to leave it, he announced finally.

His wife’s voice donned a soft, protective quality. But it’s a baby.

We don’t know that for sure. It couldn’t be something… else.

As if to confirm his suspicion, the child screamed louder, causing them both to shudder and duck down. The liquid around the child seeped into the ground and dissipated into the fronds of the canvas, stretching a platter of vivid colours far in all directions. The nomad recoiled, standing as shades of green rushed up the hillside and under him, turning the snowy fibres emerald.

What in Terrak’s name is going on? he gasped, swearing to the god of land.

His wife tapped his arm and pointed forward.

I don’t know, she said, but it’s nothing compared to what’s happening over there.

Raising his eyes, the nomad felt his chest tighten. Bile rose into his throat. A rich glow enveloped the couple from the clearing below. It was impossible to see what was happening beneath the raging light at first, but it sounded like the whole world had woken up. The nomad wiped sweat from his forehead.

Clearing his throat, he croaked, This is no ordinary child.

1

The Chase

Q uick, there he is! Get him!

Blott bolted from his hiding place behind the stable door and into an open field. Feeling the heat of his pursuers’ eyes on his back, he grimaced, cursing his own stupidity under his breath. He should have chosen a better spot. There was no way to change that now. The mistake had been made. He would just have to deal with the consequences.

That was easier said than done. This time, he had gone too far, been too daring. Of course, there would be a beating if they caught him – Artemis and his gang would make sure of that – but what scared him more was the thought of being turned over to Artemis’ father, Arcana. The Grand Councillor had an unforgiving history when it came to troublemakers.

Up until now they hadn’t actually seen Blott’s face – only the back of his hood. If he could keep his identity a secret and get out of the compound, then maybe he could still get away unharmed.

Circle around, boys! He won’t get away this time! another voice yelled, more determined than the first but further away.

Blott was in a small field, bordered by thick hedgerows. Both were the colour of old paper, faded by the sun and the land’s exhausted soil. The warm air meant that he had already broken into a sweat, despite having only run a few hundred feet. The gap in the hedge he had used to slip into the settlement was just over a small hill. He had used the secret entrance many times. It wouldn’t take him long to get there if he kept the same pace, but his pursuers were larger than him, and faster. They made one stride for every two of his. If they had discovered the opening already, they would easily make it there before him.

Breathing heavily, he approached the crest of the hill and glanced over his shoulder. It seemed steeper than before. He had to use his hands to claw at the dry grass, hauling himself upward like an ape.

Glancing back, he saw two dark figures bounding swiftly after him. They were beside the barn. One carried a snapped broom handle like a club. The other just had his fists – more than enough to do the job.

Forcing the possibility of a bludgeoning out of his mind, Blott whirled back to find the opening. His heart leapt. The gap was in sight! But there was a problem.

Hey, you! yelled an older boy, cutting off his escape. Mertium?

So much for hiding my face, he thought.

Following the direction of Blott’s gaze, the boy scanned the hedge. His face brightened as he caught on to Blott’s intention.

Standing nearly a foot taller than him, he cracked a threatening smile. If he hadn’t noticed the escape route before, then he definitely saw it now.

Blott flicked his eyes in another direction, but it was too late. They had already betrayed him. In a few moments, his only feasible escape route would be blocked and he would be left completely exposed.

Eyes wide, Blott gritted his teeth and dashed off at a right angle to avoid the larger boy. His secret access point has been compromised so he had no choice but to seek out another option.

So far he had been cunning, always staying just out of sight. But this time was different. He had been too bold, trying to catch them in the act. He had entered a valley full of hounds, and once they took up his scent there was no escape. Now that they knew who he was, they would track him forever. The hounds wanted his blood.

With every stride his lead decreased. Luckily for Blott, though, the sentinel at the hedge was Caleb. Two years Blott’s senior, the older boy was much stronger; if only the same could be said for his mind. It was a well-known fact that Caleb wasn’t exactly a prodigy. He had been taken out of the village school three years early to get a job as a farmhand. His parents had said that they thought he should work to his strengths. For a boy who had been known to pull an adult cow out of a muddy pond with his bare hands, they had certainly made the right decision.

Meritum! Come ’ere, you varmint!

Blott ignored him. Instead, he aligned with the field’s edge before turning tail and heading back in on himself. It was useless trying to find another hole in the hedgerow – he already knew there were none – so he decided he was better off taking his chances inside the farm. With his cover blown, he circled back, thinking that the main gate might be his best option. Caleb and the others would make light work of him in a fight, but he had an idea that might tip the odds in his favour.

At the crest of the tump, a farmhand had stacked sheets of wood to build a new shepherd’s shelter. It wasn’t set on a particularly high ridge but it offered an ample vantage point to watch over Arcana’s handful of animals and his half a mile of crop land that ran up to the edge of the village’s natural bowl-like border.

Aside from the Councillor’s whitewashed wattle and daub farmhouse, arched barn, and a handful of sheds, there were few obstacles to hide behind anywhere on the property. The hedge-topped hill worked as a natural wall between his land and the rest of the village. The only way out now was to run back down to the buildings and follow the dirt track around the hill to freedom.

Glancing at the stacked wood, Blott considered its usefulness. The broad planks weren’t ideal weapons but they were better than nothing. Maybe he could use them to ward off an attack, giving him a brief respite to rethink his options.

Come and get me! Blott screamed, skidding on the dusty grass at the top of the hill.

His false bravado was fuelled by adrenaline. Inside, his stomach was in turmoil and he felt a burning sensation rising in his throat. He had never expected them to catch him. Not this time. But he hadn’t been careful enough, and they had caught him snooping around the farm. It was completely his fault. As his searches became more frequent, his confidence had grown into a belief that he would never be discovered. Now that confidence had betrayed him.

Stooping to pick up a board, he held it aloft, waving it threateningly above his head. Artemis and Ethan, and his other pursuers, were three quarters of the way up the tump. They could see him now, looking down at them. They had discarded their coats at the bottom of the mound and bounded after him. Sweat bejewelled their faces as they neared the top, their progress slowing, hampered by the effort. The food shortage had affected them, too. Nobody was as fit as they used to be, and the dry heat didn’t help.

Let’s see how you deal with th–

Blott’s words were cut short. He had severely miscalculated the situation and Caleb was nearer than he’d expected. Unable to stop, the larger boy slammed into him with all the force of a bull. Blott tried to swing the board and deflect Caleb, but there was no time. His body shuddered and he was thrown off balance.

There was a sickly moment as he stumbled backwards. One step. Two. Three. Then he ran out of ground. In a split-second attempt to land out of Caleb’s immediate reach, he pushed off and sprang into the air. Leaving the ground behind, he sailed off the hill, landing painfully and rolling several times until he settled on his back, roughly halfway down. Caleb face-planted in the grass just above him, his hulking body spread-eagled. Both groaned.

Blott? I should have known it was you! Only a scrap-sucking Meritum would try to steal food from the Fexelit table, sneered Artemis between breaths, arriving just below them on the hill.

He was their leader, a muscular boy whose father owned the farm. I have to admit, I expected better. A thoroughbred rat like you should be good at staying hidden. You’re slipping.

Oh, I’m not slipping, Arti. I’m sliding, Blott replied, rolling onto his stomach.

The timber board had landed next to him. It was just wide enough for him to position his body on top of it. Shifting quickly to the right, he mounted the board on his stomach and kicked off. Instantly, the smooth plank succumbed to gravity and Blott shot down the hill. Artemis leapt to catch him, snarling, but he slipped past him too quickly and his fingers closed around thin air.

Further down the hill, Ethan was in Blott’s path. He wasn’t as fast to react. Unable to change course, Blott ploughed headlong into his left leg, sending him reeling. Ethan hit the ground awkwardly and sprawled as Blott glided away to freedom.

With escape in sight, Blott breathed a sigh of relief, his body leaning to balance on the bouncing plank beneath him. This wasn’t the time to tumble off. The world rushed by and, for a second, he felt the exhilaration of the ride. He couldn’t believe how well that move had turned out. The thought crossed his mind that he might get away after all.

That was until he noticed the obstacle ahead of him. He had forgotten to account for the barn. It loomed at the bottom, standing in his way. For a building, it was very good at looking smug. There was no way it would break if he crashed into it, and he was moving too fast to stop.

Sand-coloured grass whizzed by him on both sides. The rough grass made it impossible for him to put his hands down to slow his descent without getting a painful burn, and his feet couldn’t gain enough traction. If he continued like this, he would plough straight into the barn.

He had to act fast.

Tensing his body, he counted to three and then heaved his make-shift sled to one side. The barn door hadn’t been closed properly so the bottom half was open just enough for a small boy to slip inside. Narrowly missing the wall, he rushed under the closed top half of the stable door and into the barn.

Glancing off a wooden workbench, he spun out of control. In a flurry of confusion, he heard a startled screech and was showered in an explosion of feathers. Something firm, but soft, had cushioned his crash. Whatever it was, it let out a disgruntled splutter. A snort of rancid breath blew the hood off his head.

Uh oh, he murmured, locking eyes with the beast.

Outside, Artemis and his gang approached the barn, fanning out to cover all sides. Artemis’ stony face cracked into a satisfied smirk momentarily. Signalling to his friends, he quietly mouthed orders.

Caleb, you go around the back. Ethan, you’re coming in the front with me. He kept his voice low and spun the snapped broom handle around his fingers like a baton.

Caleb did as he was told, disappearing around the corner to secure the rear of the barn. The other two crouched low, advancing on the stable door.

All noise from inside had simmered down to a muted scuffle. Artemis paused as if considering whether Blott had injured himself. Why else wouldn’t he try to make a run for it? An almighty squawk, followed by a heavy thud and the sound of cracking wood changed his mind.

The creature inside the barn was akin to a feathery avalanche. Trespassers in the past had seen just how painful confronting it could be. A wrong move or a loud noise could set it off and woe betide anyone caught in its path. This time, that person was Blott.

Oh, he’s gone and done it now! yelled Caleb from behind the barn, panic shaking his voice. Boy, Clucky won’t like that at all!

A barrage of high-pitched howls echoed from the barn. Anticipating the new danger, Artemis backed away, his eyes wide.

Caleb was now in front of the barn, running quickly. Behind him, Blott had also emerged from the back of the barn, covered in feathers and sprinting like a startled rabbit. His face had turned grey and his clothes looked more ragged than before. His hood was down now. No use hiding his face. The creature behind him didn’t care who he was. It just wanted him dead.

Oh, please, no, Artemis said in terror.

Then there was another crash, and the sound of creaking boards was replaced by that of shattering wood. Another beastly scream, this time much louder.

Clucky was free.

2

Blood And Secrets

N o, no, no, no, no! Blott stuttered, struggling to run straight while looking over his shoulder.

Like a fireball, Clucky the rooster-bull charged out of the barn. The massive animal stood nearly six feet tall on all fours. His haunches arched and his bright orange feathers splayed out around his head like a lion’s mane. He slavered and his red crest pulsed angrily. Waving his head, he swung his set of gleaming horns. This prize-winning creature weighed over a ton. Blott had to get out of the way.

No, Clucky, no! yelled Artemis, waving his arms to steer Clucky away from Caleb. Instantly, the animal turned on him. Whoa!

Artemis dived out of the way as the tsunami of feathers, hooves, and talons rushed past him. A set of tiny, useless wings flapped lividly on Clucky’s back. A gold ring that hung from his nostrils clinked against his drooling beak. Rearing up, he stood on his massive chicken-feet, anchoring himself to the spot, while his hoofed forelegs flailed at the boys’ heads.

Ethan arrived on the scene, holding a rope. Fumbling with it, he looped it firmly over his arm, swung the lasso around his head and hurled it at the rooster-bull. The first throw missed. He tried again. A second failed attempt.

Get him, you idiot! Artemis screamed.

Artemis was yelling commands from the safety of a broad-leafed tree he’d climbed next to the barn. Clucky leapt furiously at his dangling legs. He let out a squeal as the rooster-bull’s long horns brushed alarmingly close to his shins.

Flapping, Clucky turned, eyes bulging as the rope slapped pathetically against the side of his head. His crest puffed and jets of hot air erupted from his nostrils. A new enemy was in his sights.

Dropping the rope, Ethan stumbled backwards, tripping over his own feet. Fortunately, he managed to stay upright. Turning, he sprinted off in the opposite direction. A wise move.

Clucky trailed him, upright, horns sweeping back and forth in fury. In a moment of panic, Ethan glanced over his shoulder and tripped over an exposed tree root because he wasn’t watching where he was going. He broke his fall with his knees, and then rolled onto his back and grimaced, bringing his hands up in front of his face. Flushed, he waited for the impact, knowing that rooster-bull attacks often ended with men being gouged open, scarred for the rest of their lives.

Cluck-cluck! Cluck-a-doodle MOOOOO!

Clucky lunged as he sounded the rooster-bull death scream and powered down for the kill. But his rage wasn’t satisfied. At the last moment, his head snapped sharply to one side and he veered off course. Ethan sat up, his chest rising and falling. He didn’t move any further. His body wouldn’t let him. Shock had kicked in. He just lay there, his whole body tingling with fear.

Clucky continued on his war path, circling back. It only became apparent what was happening when Ethan saw Caleb and Artemis. Artemis had climbed down from the tree and was using the discarded rope to lasso his father’s prize-winning animal. Then he and Caleb worked together to rein in the beast.

As Caleb held the rope, straining to drag Clucky back to the barn, Artemis barked orders and slapped the creature on the rump with his broom handle. Reluctantly, Clucky settled down and returned to his home. With a sigh of relief they finally restrained the rooster-bull, closing the buckled door to lock him inside.

Where is he? snarled Artemis after a moment.

The others looked up, confused, then remembered who they were chasing before the rooster-bull broke out.

Artemis could just make out Blott’s skinny frame fleeing the scene. His hood was back up now, his legs carrying him away as fast as possible. The distraction had been a stroke of luck.

Take this! Artemis jammed the broom handle into Ethan’s open hand and ran off in pursuit again.

Having reached the edge of the Fexelit farm, Blott vaulted over its main gate. Racing along ragged hinterland, he detoured amongst the bushes, hoping to throw his enemies off his scent. His chest burned and his legs had wanted to give up from the moment he started sprinting. Whatever pain they caused him was nothing, though, compared to what he would experience if Artemis and his assistants caught up.

Finding the road, he continued along the dry earth until it joined the main part of the village Ortus. The village was a haven. Reaching these houses meant safety. The settlement’s thatched roofs and slightly greener scenery was situated in the middle of the three-mile-wide, crater-shaped valley in which the Canvas People – or Canvasians as they called themselves – had lived for over a decade. It was secluded.

Although that meant it could seem like a prison at times, the steep crater walls were the only thing that kept out the horrors of the White Plains. The close-knit community stayed inside to keep it that way.

Artemis wouldn’t dare touch Blott after he reached the main streets. He wouldn’t risk neighbours seeing the confrontation. If they told his father, Arcana, the head of the village council, that they had seen him being anything less than a perfect member of the community, the old man would have no hesitation in