Michelle L. Levigne's Blog, page 104

Off the Bookshelf: FAIRIES: MYTHS, LEGENDS AND LORE, by Skye Alexander

Sometimes research can be fun. And frustrating. Especially when you're looking for books in the library, and the search function of the computer index doesn't want to cooperate. Most of the books I found on fairies, faeries, the fair folk, and such *sigh* were fiction, mostly romance, some kids' stories. That's not what I was looking for.

So when I found this one, as I prepare to start a new series of books, it was a major relief. And a treasure trove.

Dealing with fairy lore from around the world, it discusses different classes of fairies, legends, their functions within the magical realms as well as dealings with lowly mortals, and what was really fascinating, a discussion of how the legends have changed through the years, as society changed. This is one I really think I need to find in print, rather than ebook, so I can flag pages for future reference, because I can see going back to this again and again, for inspiration.

Excerpt: THE RIFT WAR

From Uncial PressBook 5 of the Zygradon Chronicles
Excerpt:
Grego was somewhat relieved that the white-haired man didn't levitate a bottle of juice over to him. Now wasn't the time for amusing tricks. He gathered his thoughts as the three served themselves.

"It's happened," he said, after considering and tossing aside a dozen different ways of breaking the news. "The next phase in my project. They'll load the ships with the power siphon equipment in the next few days, to sail to the Death Zone."

"But how?" Emrillian said, slowly shaking her head. She put down the bottle of juice and leaned forward, elbows on her knees, hands clasped together, as if that would help her concentrate and understand. "The next step is to get the sensors working."

"They are working." Grego swallowed hard. "Working too well. I'm thinking someone else has been working on the programming and adding it to mine. The first test went spectacularly well. Today. Kayn was in my office, watching practically over my shoulder, when an enormous deposit of star-metal was found right here on the coast."

"The tunnel," Mrillis said. He stroked his beard, lips pursed in thought.

"They'll come right here, before they go out to the Death Zone," Emrillian said. "How could they resist all that star-metal, here for the taking? Grandfather, we're not ready."

"Since when does prophecy require that we be ready?" he responded, shaking his head. "And you are partially wrong, my dear. The star-metal is not here for the taking. They must penetrate quite a few defensive spells to find the tunnel."

"And if they think to bring Grego's power siphon? If they decide to activate it, to help them find the star-metal when your spells block the way? How long will the defensive spells stand against them when the Threads are attacked and drained?"

Excerpt: THE RIFT WAR

From Uncial PressBook 5 of the Zygradon Chronicles
Excerpt:

With star-metal, the streamers of light and the slight movements of her fingers were Emrillian's tools, rather than the forge, the anvil, the tongs, and hammer.

"Grego!" She lowered her hands. The cuff floated gently down to the granite surface of her worktable and the sphere of light surrounding her faded to nothing. She wiped sweat off her face and then wiped her hands on the seat of her loose trousers. "What a nice surprise. It's more than a moon since you visited."

"Is the armor finished?" He nodded to Mrillis as the man stepped out of the shadows at the other side of the workshop to join them at the table.

"Why?" She laughed and raked her hands through her sweat-damped hair, white and gold touched with red highlights. It had come loose of her braids in the strenuous work and the gusts of air and thrashing of the Threads, as always, and hung past her waist. Her silver-blue eyes sparkled with the euphoria of the energy she always gained while working star-metal.

"You're going to need it. I assume since you're working on bow guards, the armor is done?"

"Done, and ready for a celebration party," Mrillis said. He nodded at the cuff. "That is a gift for Shalara. I anticipate great things from her, when her imbrose is awakened."

"What's happened?" Emrillian gestured across the workshop, to the corner where a coldbox and padded benches formed a resting place amid the multiple work stations and projects in various stages of completion throughout the large, one-room building. The three settled down in their usual places for one of their long, intense, rambling talks.

"Something dire, I fear," Mrillis said. He gestured at the coldbox. The door swung open.

Excerpt: THE RIFT WAR

From Uncial PressBook 5 of the Zygradon Chronicles
Excerpt:

The construction of a suit of armor entirely made of star-metal, for Emrillian to wear in hand-to-hand combat with Edrout. She had sworn at the age of twelve to destroy the enemy enchanter so her father would not have to face the man again.

Grego stepped out of the forest and into the intricate gardens surrounding the main house of the Rakkell estate. The lights swirled and spun in a dome around the large workshop that sat a good hundred meters away from the manor house. Mrillis' voice came from the workshop, answered a moment later by Emrillian's rich alto. Relieved to be able to share this perilous news as soon as possible, Grego pushed through the barrier of light and came out the other side, feeling as if he had taken several whiffs of pure oxygen. His skin tingled all over as if scrubbed clean. He pushed the door open, and knowing how Emrillian worked, he moved quietly and slowly. It was not wise to distract or startle her while she worked star-metal.

Emrillian stood in the center of a globe of silvery-blue light, eyes closed, hands spread midway between shoulder and waist. A glowing, molten mass of silver-blue metal, almost the same color as her eyes, churned in mid-air, suspended by green and white streaks of light coming from her fingers. She moved her left hand out, and the metal streamed out and flattened into a sheet. She raised her right hand, just a little, and pointed with her index finger, twirling it, and the sheet of glowing metal folded in on itself, again and again, as if it were a paper being compacted into a packet. Then she flattened it into another sheet, and again folded it. Flattened and folded.

Grego remembered to breathe. He had watched her do the exact same thing not two moons ago to a piece of fine steel, working it and tempering it and folding it, then shaping the hot metal with a stone hammer until she formed it into a thick cuff to protect an archer against the snap of the bow string. Emrillian had quite a reputation as a metalworker among their Archaics friends, and the bow guard, engraved with the image of a drakag, had been a gift for a friend of theirs when she graduated to Valor rank.

Excerpt: THE RIFT WAR

From Uncial PressBook 5 of the Zygradon Chronicles
Excerpt:

"It's happening too soon," Grego muttered, as the upper towers of the Rakkell estate became visible through the thick forest. He had no idea how he would slow the progress on the star-metal reclamation project, now that the sensors he had developed were operational.

Dangerously operational. He hadn't expected them to work so well, or so soon.

The irony was that Emrillian and Mrillis had encouraged him to stay involved in the project. They felt it would be better for him to be at the center of this threat to the integrity of the dome of Threads that protected Lygroes and kept it safe in far distant history. If he had resigned his position, he could have come under suspicion of treachery by the Science Directorate and Kayn's paranoid compatriots, and he wouldn't be in a position now to warn Emrillian and Mrillis when their worst fears came true.

Which he was about to do.

He was so busy with his thoughts, trying to frame the right words to share the news, that he didn't notice the streamers of gold, silver, and blue light swirling around Emrillian's workshop until he ran into them. They were as tangible as streamers of spun sugar, brushing against his skin and startling him out of his thoughts.

Grego 's bare skin prickled a little where the light had touched it. Amazed as he always was, even after all these years, he reached out one hand, brushing his fingers against a particularly vivid streak of royal blue. Sparks fizzed and spun around his fingers where they penetrated the light. Still moving forward, he pressed his hand deeper into the light, enjoying the somewhat pleasant, faintly ticklish sensation. Such a strong reaction among the Threads protecting the Rakkell estate meant only one thing: Emrillian was at work at the forge in her workshop, taking another step in the project she and Grego and Mrillis had shared for three years now.

Excerpt: THE RIFT WAR

From Uncial PressBook 5 of the Zygradon Chronicles
Excerpt:
Grego staggered to his feet and took a deep breath. He stretched out his right arm, snapped his fingers, and held his hand out, palm up. Blue sparks danced across his fingertips, and answering sparks opened a panel in the stone pillar of the arched opening in the raw stone wall that surrounded the Rakkell estate. A thumb ring of woven threads of star-metal, glowing softly blue and silver, flew through the air to land on his palm. He inhaled deeply, feeling another missing piece of himself had come home, as he slipped the ring onto his thumb. His inborn imbrose flared to life.

"By the grace and mercy of the Estall," he whispered, renewing his vows as he turned to continue down the path. "By the imbrose in my blood. I do swear my life, my strength, my honor to the Warhawk, and to his daughter, my queen."

Grego's euphoria vanished with the force of a house collapsing. He usually didn't mind the physical reaction when Mrillis' mind-shield spell went dormant, every time he crossed onto the property. The wonder and awe of sharing such a world-shattering secret made up for the price he had to pay. After all, he had requested the mind-shield when he earned his position at the Science Directorate.

Illis Rakkell and Emmi were in actuality Mrillis the enchanter and Emrillian Warhawk, daughter of Athrar. Sixteen years ago, the spell that protected Emrillian and let her sleep through the ages had been attacked and destroyed by Edrout, son of Megassa and the Nameless One. Mrillis had brought Emrillian to Moerta, to raise her in the modern world and prepare her for the day she would return to Lygroes, to lead the Valors of Quenlaque in defending their land against Edrout and his Encindi barbarians, and prepare for the return of Athrar.

Grego had met them only a few days after coming to live with his grandparents, just an old man and a little girl, five years old, having a picnic in the forest. He might have continued exploring the forest, lost in the haze of pain from the death of his parents, but Mrillis had been drawing pictures with light, making Emrillian laugh and the Threads dance. Grego had seen the light and the Threads and felt the humming of power in the air that enclosed the clearing, and he stayed, fascinated, pulled out of his misery.

By seeing the lights that day, he had proven he had imbrose, and that had been enough for Mrillis to listen to his heart, to his sense of destiny, and take the lonely, hurting boy under his wing. Grego had been included in Emrillian's lessons about the history of Quenlaque, the Rey'kil, magic, and warfare. He had investigated the Archaics, devoted to scholarship, delving through the many false legends Mrillis and Meghianna, Queen of Snows had sown through the centuries, to protect the truth. It had been the natural thing to join the Archaics and search for others who had imbrose, and when he was sure they were trustworthy, to introduce Mrillis and Emrillian to them. The plan was to recruit from those trusted friends among the Archaics who had proven themselves honorable, skilled, and devoted to Quenlaque, and take them down the tunnel beneath the sea someday, to help in the defense of Lygroes.

Excerpt: THE RIFT WAR

From Uncial PressBook 5 of the Zygradon Chronicles
Excerpt:
An hour later, as the sunset painted the tall trees with gold and crimson, Grego finally escaped out the back door, with a detour to the kitchen. His stomach had settled enough to remind him he hadn't eaten since breakfast, caught up in his work to the point of ignoring the rumbles and pinching. Probably part of his headache and nausea could be blamed on low blood sugar. He snatched up a couple meatrolls to eat cold, with a large dollop of fire paste, as he followed the path through the forest. He had changed his clothes to dark, worn-comfortable, casual tunic, trousers, and heavy boots, suitable for long walks through the woods at night or riding bareback, if Emmi was in the mood for a moonlight ride. He never knew what sort of adventure would occur while he visited Master Illis and his granddaughter. Whatever had been tormenting him, it was almost gone by the time he reached the boundary between his estate and the Rakkells'.

The fiery taste in his mouth turned to real heat, shooting through his entire body, freezing him as he put one foot over the imaginary line. Grego choked, spat out the last of his meatroll, and dropped the half-roll still in his hand. He went to his knees, crossing completely into Rakkell property. Dangerous memories shot up from the dark, locked regions in the back of his mind, colliding with a sense of urgency that explained the faded headache and nausea.

The half of his life that he left behind when he went to the Science Directorate to work had awakened, rising to reclaim his mind and heart.

"I hate this," he growled. Then he grinned at the incredible feeling of freedom and exhilaration that shot through him, the same every time the locked doors in his mind slammed open and the secrets he carried returned to his consciousness.

All the wonders of being a person of power and influence at the Science Directorate and the knowledge he was a certified genius were nothing, compared to the knowledge that magic was real, and the Estall had granted a small portion to him to use.

Excerpt: THE RIFT WAR

From Uncial PressBook 5 of the Zygradon Chronicles

Excerpt:

Before the ending of all things worthwhile and strong, there will be three drops of blood born to the bloody sword.
The daughters shall walk in light and be strong, but the son shall overstep them.
One shall serve and one abominate and one will triumph.
One will sleep and one shall wait and one shall suffer.
They shall do so forever, and yet even to forever there is an ending.
The blood drawn from the third shall open the doors and smooth the road and waken the sleeper.
Protect the strong and vigilant, so that the three drops of blood may come.
Though you look for the abomination, you will not find her until she has destroyed innocence. Keep her from the blood drawn from the blood, or all is lost.

Book of the Week: THE RIFT WAR

Today we move on to the last book in my Arthurian fantasy series, The Zygradon Chronicles. All published by Uncial Press.
There are 5 books in the series:ZYGRADONBRAENLICACHTHREE DROPS OF BLOODLADY WARHAWKTHE RIFT WAR

THE RIFT WAR
Awakened from magical sleep, Emrillian Warhawk grew up in the modern, technological world of Moerta, 2000 years away from Quenlaque and Lygroes. There, the legends of Athrar Warhawk and Quenlaque, Braenlicach and the Zygradon were nothing but fanciful tales warped beyond all recognition. Raised by Mrillis the enchanter, she knew the truth, and sought out friends among the Archaics, who believed in the promise and prophecy of Quenlaque and the return of Athrar. Only they had access to star-metal, the Threads, and the magic of the Rey'kil. 

Then the authorities threatened their sanctuary to confiscate star-metal to use in weapons of war. Emrillian and Mrillis fled back to Lygroes through the tunnel under the sea, accompanied by Grego, a friend with inborn magic who had sworn loyalty to Athrar and Quenlaque. In Lygroes, where only 200 years had passed, they joined forces with Baedrix, descendant of Lycen, and prepared for the awakening of Athrar, the dismantling of the dome of Threads that kept Lygroes hidden from the modern world, and the final battle with Edrout, son of the Nameless One. 


With the help of Archaics who crossed to Lygroes and awakened their own inborn magic, Emrillian, Baedrix, and Grego set out to retrieve Braenlicach from hiding and find the lost Zygradon to heal and awaken Athrar. Time was their enemy as Edrout gathered his forces and armies from the modern world surrounded them -- and failure could mean the destruction of the entire world.

Excerpt: LADY WARHAWK

From Uncial Press
Excerpt:
Yes, there is treachery in the Court, and you are part of it. Did you believe you could lie to the Queen of Snows, and not be punished? You were judged false from the moment you walked through the stone gates. Your own lies have wrapped death's cords around your throat.

If the man had fled the moment she accused him of lying, he would already be in the maze of caverns that surrounded and guarded the Stronghold, and he would live to tell about his adventure. But like every self-righteous, lying traitor, he stayed to argue and lie more.

Meghianna felt a little pity when he shook and his face grew a little paler as he spoke, shaking his head and holding out his hands in a gesture of pleading. She didn't listen to his words, as she gathered up her will.

Just a few nights ago, Kaldar had brought the boys a deliciously horrifying tale of a ship that had sailed too far north at the worst of the winter storms. All its crew had been found encased in ice, standing at their posts on the deck of the ship. Meghianna had found the story just as horribly fascinating as her boys.

It would certainly be a new and novel punishment, and would preserve the body for other liars and traitors to see. It might warn away those who still had a conscience.

You ignored the warnings and you came to lie, she said, breaking into the man's denials. You refused to leave when you could. Very well, then. Stay here forever.

Gathering up the frigid air and water from below the ice, she wrapped them around the man, encasing him in a pillar of glistening ice, as solid as crystal, without even an air bubble to escape his nostrils or lips.

Meghianna shivered a little in sympathy, even knowing the man had died instantly. She was glad she felt some horror at his death--it meant she hadn't become completely hardened to such drastic measures.

Rubbing her hands against the chill that came through the enchantment, she hurried down the stairs to Ector and her boys, praying she was in time to prevent a wedding she was far too busy to escape with any courtesy.