And finally...

Well folks, 'The Enthusiastic Amateur' has reached it's dramatic conclusion...

You can still enter a competition to win a free ebook copy of the new Cornelius Quaint adventure 'The Lazarus Curse' and maybe more by answering this question: In which country is 'The Lazarus Curse' set?

Then visit Quaint's Facebook page, where you will see the answer in code, along with the cipher that you need to answer it.

Once you have used the Cornelius Cipher to decode the message, simply Follow @CorneliusQuaint on Twitter and send him a Tweet or Direct Message including the hashtag #LazarusCurse and your answer.

 

The winner shall be announced next week.

Godspeed and good luck friends.

The Enthusiastic Amateur: Chapter Five

Part Two.

     A short time later, Quentin Claremont drew back the large doors of the warehouse expecting to see a Cornelius Quaint-shaped object dead at the bottom of the glass tank.

     He was to be disappointed, and not a little bit confused.

     ‘That can’t be…’ he whispered, taking a step inside.

     Hearing a strange sound beneath his feet, he looked down to see a small puddle of water. And then another, and then another, leading all the way to the tank. He scowled at the puddles, certain that they had not been there earlier. And then the penny dropped. They weren’t puddles, they were footprints. And they were not leading to the tank, but leading from it. Claremont was transfixed with the prints, following them like a hound with a scent, to a shadowed corner of the warehouse. With his feet glued firmly to the spot, he craned his neck, trying to peer through the gloom. A fist flew out of the shadows and struck his nose. Seeing stars, he staggered back and collapsed onto his backside on the cold stone floor.

     Cornelius Quaint, his clothes sopping wet and sealed tight against his bones, stepped out of the darkness and towered over him.

     ‘Bravo, Mr Quaint,’ said Claremont. A trickle of blood ran from his nostril into his mouth and onto his lips. ‘You managed to get free.’

     ‘From your inescapable death-trap, you mean?’ said Quaint. ‘Obviously.’

     ‘And now I suppose you’re g-g-going to k-k-kill me?’

     ‘Ordinarily, I would certainly consider it,’ replied Quaint. ‘But I think I can come up with something a bit more creative than that.’

     ‘You…you mean you’re not going to kill me?’ asked Claremont.

     ‘Not me personally, no,’ said Quaint. ‘Your little stunt here tonight has given me an idea. If I recall the words in your invitation correctly, you said that you saw nothing in my stage-act, and I quote: “above the level of an enthusiastic amateur”. Ring any bells?’

     Quentin Claremont squirmed. ‘Are you sure I said that?’

     ‘Do you want me to jog your memory?’ Quaint tensed his fists.

     ‘No! No, I believe you!’

     ‘And all of this,’ Quaint pointed over to the glass tank full of water, ‘was designed to see if I could live up to my boasts. But you see, that’s where you went wrong.’

     ‘Wrong?’ asked Claremont. ‘Wrong how?’

     Quaint bared his teeth. ‘They’re not boasts. I really am as good as I say I am.’

     ‘Evidently so,’ whimpered Claremont. ‘And I’m pleased that you were able to pass my little test. I wasn’t really going to let you drown, you know. That’s why I’m here, you see? I came back to set you free! It was all just a little joke between professional showmen, nothing more.’

     Quaint snatched hold Claremont’s jacket. ‘A joke? It’s a bit more than that! But you’re right. We are both showmen, and that’s why I’m going to show you a little professional courtesy. If you’re such a damn good magician I’m going to give you a chance to prove it in front of an audience that’s far more unforgiving than I am. Get up.’

     Claremont winced as he was dragged to his feet. ‘But…where are we going?’

     ‘Why, Quentin, you should be excited!’ cheered Quaint. ‘I’m taking you to the circus.’

*

     That evening, Dr Marvello’s Travelling Circus was open for business as usual once more. Just off-stage, Quaint and Prometheus watched as Quentin Claremont performed his magic act in front of a crowded audience. Quaint had wound up them all up beforehand, telling them that never before would they witness conjuring skills such as the ones that Claremont was about to perform. That he was truly the most original showman in the land, and that his performance would leave them speechless. As he breezed off-stage after building up a level of anticipation that he knew full well would not be met, Quaint had whispered into Claremont’s ear:

     ‘One word of advice, Quentin…be spectacular…or what my strongman is going to do to you after the show will be the least of your problems. Prometheus will only break your kneecaps…that audience will rip you to shreds.’

     And true enough, that was exactly what the audience did – verbally, if not physically. Quentin Claremont’s so-called ‘magic act’ comprised of performing the sublimely obvious and the frequently overused. Doves disappearing from under silver platters, bunches of flowers appearing out of thin air, he even stooped as low as to perform the never-ending handkerchief trick. The audience had seen enough, and then the heckling began in earnest. Grown men, old women, even the children were joining in. When Claremont refused to budge, the audience resorted to throwing bits of food and rubbish at him. A shoe came flying from the crowd at one point and smacked him in the head. He was visibly shaken and ever so pale. All his bravado, all his boasts and all his threats were absent now. He was a broken man.

     ‘It’s getting worse.’ Quaint groaned as he peered around the curtain. ‘Another minute and they’ll be up out of their seats baying for his blood. I almost feel sorry for him.’

     Prometheus frowned. ‘Sorry? Didn’t he try to kill you?’

     ‘Well, yes…but I’m used to that,’ replied Quaint, offhandedly. ‘At least he went to all the trouble of setting up the tank, the manacles, the chains and the straitjacket. Not many that have tried to kill me over the years have been that thorough, let me tell you.’

     Prometheus shook his head. ‘You amaze me sometimes, boss. Do you know that?’

     Quaint grinned. ‘I amaze everyone, Prom. It’s my job, remember?’

 THE END

     Although we have come to the end of this particular tale, folks,  there are plenty more Quaint adventures in the pipeline, including the final part in the first arc, The Romulus Equation due out one way or another very soon. It’s been fun having you guys around these past few weeks and I shall miss your company, so do keep in touch via the Cornelius Quaint Facebook page or by tweeting @CorneliusQuaint, or failing that, you can always tweet: @DarrenCraske or email him at corneliusquaint@hotmail.com.

     A great big thank you to all those who read along, entered the weekly quiz, tweeted and re-tweeted, allowed me hijack their blogs to help push the release of The Lazarus Curse, or those who just read the first few chapters and then lost interest – each and every one of you has earned my sincerest thanks.

     Don’t forget there’s still one last chance to win a very special Cornelius Quaint prize bonanza if you answer the question over on the Cornelius Quaint Facebook page right now! Keep an eye on @CorneliusQuaint’s tweets on Friday 23^rd March to see if YOU madam! or even YOU sir! are the lucky winner.

The Enthusiastic Amateur: Chapter Five

Part One:

     ‘Sod it,’ Quaint said, thrusting his arms above his head.

     He felt the cold metal in his equally-as-cold fingers and gripped onto it as tightly as he could. With the chain secured, the first part of his plan was complete. Unfortunately, as was seemingly always the way, this bit of good luck had a bit of bad luck nipping at its heels, and he heard a loud crack above his head. He looked up at the large dark shape bearing down on him. The wooden post crashed down into the water, missing him by inches. Had he not managed to push against the glass just in time, he would have joined the wooden post as it sank to the bottom of the tank.

     As he swallowed water, he grabbed hold of the chain and pulled. The shattered wooden post breached the surface of the water and he was half-tempted to unchain it and use it as a flotation aid, but he quickly thought of a much better use for it. He weighed the wooden post in his hands. It was sodden and very heavy, and with the added load of the chain attached, he really didn’t know if he had the strength to pull off his plan.

     But that had never stopped him before.

     Slowly at first, but gathering speed and momentum, he began to swing the wooden post by its chain above his head. Around and around it went in a blur – until he let it fly. He tugged firmly on the chain and it went slack. Cursing, he tried once more, swirling the chain like a lasso and then sending it flying, hoping that it would snag onto something that would support his weight. Using the chain and post like a rope and hook was the only possible way of getting out of the tank, so it was such a shame that his plan wasn’t working. He tried it a third time, but again the wooden post went crashing into the empty dockland warehouse and came back loose. Quaint was suddenly reminded where he was and what the sign outside had said. The building was currently available for lease. That was just typical. He was in possibly the only warehouse on the entire length of the Thames that was completely empty.

     Quentin Claremont had chosen the location of his trap wisely.

     Undaunted, Quaint pressed his face up against the stained glass of the tank and peered into darkness. At first he saw nothing, but then he slowly lifted his gaze. Directly above his head were thick rafters, criss-crossing the roof. He gathered his nerves together with his strength. The throw would be tricky. Were he not submerged in deep water, he might easily be able to swing the chain up – but things were as they were and it was a bit late in the game to be a sore loser. Swinging the chain around and around above his head, with one mighty throw he launched the chain up into the air.

     He watched it loop itself over the wooden beam. He watched it snap taut and then swing back around for another pass. He watched it lock into place, wrapping around itself. And then he tested the strength with a strong tug. It would hold, he hoped. It would have to hold, for it was the only beam within range of his throw and if that broke…well, Quaint was just about optimistic enough not to worry about that eventuality.

     Some people say that laughter is a tonic, and Quaint could well agree, for as he gripped hold of the chain and pulled himself up and out of the tank he felt his spirits lift, his confidence grow, and an immeasurable desire to do Quentin Claremont some serious harm once he got his hands on him. He was already looking forward to it.

This is it, folks!

We’re almost at the end!

But in the meantime, Cornelius needs YOU to help him answer this week’s teaser so head to the Cornelius Quaint Facebook page and Twitter for more information and a chance to win a free copy of the latest Cornelius Quaint adventure, The Lazarus Curse!

Decipher the Cornelius Code...

This weeks chapter of 'The Enthusiastic Amateur' has reached it's cliffhanger ending and now only YOU can help to save Cornelius Quaint.

All you need to do is answer this question: Which Greek god ruled the Underworld?

Then visit Quaint's Facebook page, where you will see the answer in code, along with the cipher that you need to answer it.

Once you have used the Cornelius Cipher to decode the message, simply Follow @CorneliusQuaint on Twitter and send him a Tweet or Direct Message including the hashtag #LazarusCurse and your answer.

This week's prize will be a free ebook edition

of the latest Cornelius Quaint adventure

'The Lazarus Curse'.

The Enthusiastic Amateur: Chapter Four

Part Two.  

   Once the straitjacket was free of his broad shoulders, Quaint pushed it down past his waist and kicked it off. He did it just in time too, because the material had become so heavy from the water, it would have been only a few more moments before it dragged him down and as it went, it would have put extra tension on the chain. Quaint was almost relieved to feel the tug on his back. Even with all his twisting and turning to shed the straitjacket, his luck (and the wooden post) still held. But for how long? He still had to figure out how he was supposed to escape from the tank. The walls were far too slippery and there was no way to get a grip on it. If he wanted his plan to work out as he hoped, the chain was vital. Everything had to be carefully considered – which was highly irritating, for the conjuror rarely considered anything, and even when he did, he never did it carefully. All he could focus on was the fact that Quentin Claremont’s plan – just like the seams on the straitjacket – was to become undone…

     What more was it going to take? he wondered. After all he had achieved, surely he had proved Quentin Claremont wrong. Surely he had proved that he was a capable conjuror. Surely he had proved that he wasn’t going down without a fight - or quietly, for that matter. Even though it burned his throat and spent much needed air from his lungs, he roared with anger. Like a maddened beast – which actually was not far off the mark – he howled and spat and cursed and screamed himself hoarse.

     Had the architect of Quaint’s predicament been able to see the conjuror’s rage, perhaps he might even have agreed with the man. Perhaps he had proven himself worthy. But Quentin Claremont was still absent, choosing to celebrate his victory elsewhere. Exactly where that was, Quaint was only too eager to find out.

     Twisting himself around awkwardly, he could feel the chain. He could even see it out of the corner of his eye, but as he reached around he just couldn’t get to it. Every action caused the wood to complain. A carefully considered approach was doing him no favours. He needed to play to his strengths and do something stupid, going against all the caution he had paid so far. If he was going to survive he needed to take a risk, but what he was planning carried the biggest risk of all…

Will Cornelius Quaint’s risk pay off?

Come right back here on Monday 19^th March 2012 to find out!!!

But in the meantime, Cornelius needs YOU to help him answer this week’s teaser so head to the Cornelius Quaint Facebook page and Twitter for more information and a chance to win a free copy of the latest Cornelius Quaint adventure, The Lazarus Curse!

The Enthusiastic Amateur: Chapter Four

Part One.   

    Beneath the surface of the water, Quaint could see a large distended shape near his waist, and it took him a few seconds to realize that it was a trapped bubble of air – which meant only one thing: (well, actually it meant two things, the first being) - if there was air inside the confines of the straitjacket, it also meant that there must be a hole (and the second being that if he could isolate the location of the hole, there was a slim chance that he might be able to make it bigger…). In earnest, he began his search. Bracing himself against the walls of the tank, Quaint pushed the material to its limits, and then he felt something give! With every breath burning his lungs, he shifted his shoulders out of the jacket like a snake shedding its skin. The sound of splintering wood made him immediately remember the post’s precarious condition and he froze. If it split, it would crash down on top of him and with his arms still constricted, there would be no way to shield himself. Time to rectify that, he thought. He pushed through the material with his numbed fingers, probing for the straps. He managed to loosen first one buckle, and then the other. But once his arms were free, they immediately sunk down into the water. Being constricted against his body for so long, they had lost vital blood circulation and they felt as if their mass had increased tenfold.

     Quaint’s body was fighting against him and he tasted water. It wasn’t fresh, no doubt taken directly from the Thames outside. He weighed the possibility of contracting who knew what sort of diseases, and there was an argument for him dying of cholera or typhoid before he drowned. That thought cheered him up a bit. Dying was one thing, but drowning was not on his list of ways that he wanted to go. It took too long. Too much time to think – too much time to list his sins, of which it had to be said, there were many. But his misspent childhood was far from his mind, it was his misspent adulthood that he cared about. He swallowed another mouthful of foul water as the weight of the straitjacket around his ankles began to sink, threatening to take the rest of him with it. It was taking all his strength to keep his feet up. It felt as if a pair of unseen hands had hold of his ankles and they were dragging him down, deeper into hell itself…

The Enthusiastic Amateur will continue right here on Wednesday 14^th March 2012!!!

In the meantime, please check out the Cornelius Quaint Facebook page and Twitter for more information.

Decipher the Cornelius Code...

This weeks chapter of 'The Enthusiastic Amateur' has reached it's cliffhanger ending and now only YOU can help to save Cornelius Quaint.

All you need to do is answer this question: For how may years did Queen Victoria reign over Great Britain?

Then visit Quaint's Facebook page, where you will see the answer in code, along with the cipher that you need to answer it.

Once you have used the Cornelius Cipher to decode the message, simply Follow @CorneliusQuaint on Twitter and send him a Tweet or Direct Message including the hashtag #LazarusCurse and your answer.

This week's prize will be a free ebook edition

of the latest Cornelius Quaint adventure

'The Lazarus Curse'.