Sarah Barnard's Blog, page 22
February 5, 2011
The Portal Sundered #samplesunday
Second book in the Portal series.
At the end of The Portal Between, Lily returned alone; Kate's world was rocked again. Sam has problems of her own, the magic is out of control, and Lily can't help this time. Kate tries to pull her life back together but it's hard and she finds comfort where she can. But who else can wield the magic? Who challenges Sam's right to rule?
From chapter 1 – HiannHiann held the torch closer to the huge stone slabs of the wall. The writing was old and worn, difficult to read in the flickering light and spattered with images. His brow furrowed as he peered at the text. His lips moved silently as he slowly deciphered their meaning and a look of first puzzlement and then a dawning horror passed across his face. He took a slow step away from the wall, his head shaking in mute disbelief.Following the familiar passage Hiann slowly walked along the wall and laid his hand on an ornate panel. The name he spoke was feared and yet when he spoke, it resonated with power.
"Ametsam. Master. Father. I have come." Hiann's deep voice echoed along the passage and a section of wall swung away to reveal a dark passage. He stepped through the opening and the wall alongside him glowed softly. He paid it little attention but extinguished his torch. At the end of the short passage was a plain wooden door with a simple latch. There was no lock but the latch and door were warped and stiff from disuse. Hiann gripped the latch and pushed. The door shifted a little and then stuck. He placed a broad shoulder against the door and shoved hard, lending his weight and strength to the effort. The door grated a little further open and stuck against something. Another shove and there was just enough room for Hiann to squeeze through.
The room was devastated. Rubble was strewn across the floor and the ceiling mostly collapsed. Large cracks ran through the walls. Everything was covered with a thick layer of stone dust. Hiann gazed about in horrified fascination. Ametsam's great hall was destroyed. The ancient laws and writings carved into the stones lost forever. Hiann picked his way carefully across the room.
Eventually he stood facing the wall where Ametsam was imprisoned. The outline of his form was clear and the fingers of one hand protruded from the stone. Hiann hesitatingly reached out to touch the stone fingertips. As his warm flesh brushed the cold stone he almost expected a reaction but there was none. Hiann sank to his knees in front of his father and former master.
"How could she have allowed this to happen?" he asked the floor by his knees. He cradled his head in his hands. "She knew. She must have known. She read the writings. I know she did. How could she let the mantle pass to one from that dead world?" The wall and Ametsam was silent. Hiann raised his head to gaze at the stone face towering over him. "Master." He began, his voice faltering. "Father." He took a breath and remained on his knees. "I will find a way. The bloodline will be restored to rule here. If there is no way to restore you to life then I will take it for myself."
Ametsam continued to be silently frozen in the stone. If he even heard Hiann's words there was no sign. Hiann rose, reached out again to touch the cold fingertips and lowering his eyes slowly walked away.
The Portal Sundered – paperback
February 4, 2011
Competition closed.
The Amazon/Createspace ABNA competition is now closed. The competition runs once a year and accepts only 5,000 entries in each of two categories. I've entered Child of the Portal into the Adult Fiction category.
This first round is the hardest to crack, as it's not judged on the author, who remains anonymous through most of the competition. Nor is it judged on the work submitted. Instead, this first round is judged on the very short 300 word book pitch. For me, writing the book was easier and that has taken over two years. The pitch has gone through several revisions and has been brutally cropped and trimmed until only the barest bones of the main plot arc are gleaming there like bones in the desert. So now it's a waiting game as the team of judges sift through that vast pile of book pitches. This is mine, and now the category is full I can't change it any more. It's stuck as it is.
Susan's mother commits suicide which releases her magic as she gives up her life, and threatens to destroy the realm she has governed. Her closest advisor, the Naiad, has also vanished and her healing influence is sorely missed.
Susan's own magic is developing as she approaches her teenage years and it confuses her as she begins to grow into the strong, young woman her mother would have been proud of. Even her newly discovered grandmother, Lily, is pleased with her, even though she refuses to teach Susan how to safely use the magic.
With the Naiad gone, nobody in control, and no-one prepared to fill either role, the magical realm is in flux and chaos threatens, and the situation only worsens when Lily is lost and assumed to be dead. It seems that all will collapse unless Susan can find Lily and bring her back to restore the magical balance. But is Lily still alive, and can Susan find the salvation that is needed for the conflict to end and for peace to be restored?
Lily must be found, only Susan can find her and only the Naiad can save her. Lily must choose where and who she wants to be to everyone who demands that she be someone else. Susan must decide who she wants to grow into, and who she wishes to claim as her family.
This fantasy novel spans worlds, families and relationships and with two major character deaths, one birth, and plenty of drama you will want to join Susan as she finds out who she is and where she belongs.
The results of this first round will be announced at the end of February. Wish me luck!
Child of the Portal is the last in the main Portal series and brings things to a close. It's a bit sad really, I thought those characters might be with me forever. But like the character in Nim's Island [DVD]
, they quit when I no longer needed them.
I'm not quite done with the Portal series just yet though, there's at least one more book and possibly more.
Sarah Barnard – The Portal Series (Paperback and Kindle)
January 30, 2011
The Portal Between (#samplesunday)
The opening of the first Portal book, where Sam has just disappeared and her car is found abandoned.
The Portal Between
1
Two Years AgoIt was just after midnight as PC Peter White walked steadily along the familiar pavement. As he walked along the wooden fence the moon caught a flash of metal amongst the trees. He paused by a gate and unhooked his torch to shine it into the woods.
The young police constable approached the dark, abandoned car carefully. His breath steamed from him in clouds and he stamped his feet. His collar was turned up and a scarf was tucked inside to keep the chill from his neck. Thickly padded uniform gloves didn't keep all of the cold from his fingers.
The car was a deep forest green saloon, with a large dent in the front passenger door. The driver door was hanging open but the interior light was off. The engine was cold and silent as he shone his torch through the window of the passenger door. The car was clearly empty. He reached for his radio but only got static. He banged it a few times and swore. He looked around but there was no-one there. The keys were still hanging from the ignition so he turned the key back and forth and got nothing. The battery was clearly dead. He took the keys to open the boot, which was empty. While he was at the boot he rocked the car to see if he could hear petrol in the tank but again there was nothing. He took a look at the tyres, nothing wrong with them. Then he cast the torch around the closest trees. There was no sign of anyone so he walked back to the edge of the woods, where he knew there would be a better signal for the radio. He was almost surprised the woods hadn't been checked already. Only almost, everyone had assumed she had run off on her own. There had been no hint of anything suspicious until now.
The woods also had the reputation of being haunted but the local police force thought that had more to do with poachers than paranormal happenings. It was a weird place and the young constable was uneasy.
He got to the edge of the trees and called in to report the car, confirmed the number plate and was told to wait for the patrol car. Within a few minutes the dark trees were lit by the strobing of multiple police cars. A couple of the cars parked deliberately so their headlights shone on the green saloon. The young PC was left at the perimeter, tying incident tape to trees. He was still too cold, but his shift was almost over. Another PC joined him.
"Looks like we drew the short straw again Pete." The new arrival rubbed his hands together and his breath was almost frost as it slipped from his nose. He pulled the collar of his jacket up and hunched his head and shoulders as deep as they would go.
"Oh Phil, tell me about it." Pete replied. "Shift's over in about half an hour anyway. Then home for a hot bath, nice hot cuppa and plenty of sleep. Might even have myself a nice warming nightcap on the way."
"They haven't told you yet?" Phil didn't sound surprised. "Overtime tonight so we can keep this bit of the woods secure until forensics can get here."
Pete groaned. "I'll have bloody hypothermia or frostbite by then and Rosie will be waiting up." He shoved his hands deep into his uniform jacket pockets. "They think it is suspicious then?"
Phil shrugged. "No idea mate. Who knows what goes through their heads at times. They have to get forensics to take a look though, just to be sure I guess." Phil stomped off in response to a call from further in the woods. Pete was left patrolling the perimeter.
The forensic team arrived in their standard white van. They went over the car and scene in minute detail. There was nothing to find. All the fingerprints matched the people already involved. There were some footprints leading from the car to the old oak tree, but they simply finished as if the walker had slipped into the tree itself, which was impossible. The car had simply run out of fuel and the engine stopped. With the ignition and the lights on, the battery had soon run flat.
As the sun rose and bright late autumnal light filtered into the woods the green car was loaded onto a breakdown truck and Pete finally got to go home.
Kate turned over in her sleep. She dreamed deeply of two years ago. Her head tossed on the pillow and her hands grasped at the edges of the duvet.
Kate sat on her saggy green sofa, her arms round four small children aged from three to six. The two police officers had no words of comfort to offer. Sam had gone. No-one knew where, when or how. Her car had been found near the old oak, empty, abandoned. There was no sign of foul play, but no sign of Sam either. A third officer was sitting in the kitchen, writing notes. He appeared with a baking sheet filled with mugs of tea, a bowl of sugar and a couple of tea spoons.
"Thought you wouldn't mind if I raided your cupboards Ma'am." He grinned. "I couldn't find a tray and I left the teapot in the kitchen." Then came an almighty crash and the distinct sound of broken crockery in the kitchen. Remarkably the policeman didn't spill a drop as he thrust the tray at his colleague and whirled round to face the source of the noise. His night stick flicking down, telescoping out, long and dangerous, then up and over his shoulder, ready to strike.
Kate's knuckles were white on the edge of the duvet and her eyes were tightly shut. The rapid movement of eyeball beneath eyelid meant the dream was still there. Her breathing ragged now and tears ran from the corners of eyes squeezed closed.
"Woah!" The frightened yelp was familiar to Kate.
"Wait!" She called, "That's Jack, my husband" The night stick was pushed back into a holder at the waist and an apology was offered.
"Is it safe?" Jack tried to be funny and failed. Kate looked at him with a face wet with tears. He took in the profusion of police and the state of his wife and the assortment of children. He crossed the room in a couple of strides to hold Kate tightly as she wept and tried to explain.
"Sam's gone. They found her car but she's gone." Kate's shoulders heaved as the sobs took over.
"I broke the teapot. Sorry." Jack looked apologetic, Kate almost smiled.
"Jack" The name a sob torn from a sleeping throat. Kate still held firmly in the dream, reliving the events that started this part of her life. Her arm flung itself out to hold the empty pillow beside her.
"Excuse me?" A firm female voice broke through. "I've come for the children?" Kate startled and automatically reached out to hold all four children. A woman older than Kate stood in the doorway. She stood straight, shoulders back and was dressed in an official looking skirt and jacket, almost a uniform. Soft dark hair with a liberal lacing of grey hung straight to her shoulders and she held a sheaf of papers which she waved at Kate. "Rebekah Silver, Social Services. This is a Court Order. Thomas and Susan Brewer are to accompany me to a place of safety in the absence of their Mother or an alternative appropriate legal guardian." Rebekah was all business and she took a step towards the children, who clung to Kate in fear.
"Tom; he is called Tom, not Thomas." Kate objected automatically as her mind seized on that last phrase, Legal Guardian. "I'm their legal guardian, Sam put me in her will last year. They can stay here." Jack looked at her aghast before nodding a reluctant agreement.
"I'll need sight of that will before that can be officially authorised." Rebekah looked completely unfazed by this revelation. She shouldered past the policeman at the door and came fully into the room. She was solidly built but not tall, clearly fit, radiating confidence and strength.
"I think it's at her house. I have a key but these kids need me here." Kate wrapped her arms protectively around the children. Susan slipped onto her lap and rested her head on Kate's shoulder. Rebekah frowned.
"I could simply enforce this and take them you know?" She waved the papers at Kate and Jack again and gestured at the body of officialdom in uniforms behind her.
"But you won't." Kate stated calmly.
"She will leave them here overnight and come back tomorrow." A silence greeted the new voice.
"Lily." Kate breathed the name like a promise in her sleep.
"Lily!" Kate exclaimed. Rebekah, her face as cold as stone, slowly turned her head to look at Lily. Her eyes were met by an equally steely gaze and Rebekah broke the stare first, looking down towards the floor briefly before turning back to Kate.
"That does sound shockingly reasonable. Is ten o'clock an unreasonable time during half term?" Rebekah looked back to Kate for agreement and she nodded.
Kate sat bolt upright in bed. She was alone. Older, wiser, but still alone. She took a few gulps of the water that sat by her bed. She wiped her face on the sleeve of her pyjamas, glanced at the alarm clock and tried to get back to sleep.
The Portal Between – paperback
The Portal Between – other ebook
January 27, 2011
The Invasion, William Meikle.
Today I bring you another guest post by William Meikle, author of The Invasion (Extended Version)
, and many other titles, including the previous Blog Crawl post, Crustaceans
, but it's The Invasion he wants to talk about today.
WHY I WROTE THE INVASION
_________________________
The first science fiction I ever encountered was Fireball XL5, one of the early Gerry Anderson productions. I was only about four years old, but I was hooked immediately on spaceships and adventure in the stars. I grew up during the exciting part of the space race, staying up nights to watch space-walks then moon missions, eyes wide in wonder as Armstrong made his small step. At the same time Gerry Anderson had continued to thrill me, with Stingray, Thunderbirds and Captain Scarlet. The Americans joined in, with Lost in Space then, as color TV reached Scotland, Star Trek hit me full between the eyes.
Also at the same time, my reading was gathering pace. I'd started on comics early with Batman and Superman. As the '60s drew to a close, Marvel started to take over my reading habits more, and I made forays into reading novels; Clarke and Asimov at first, and most of the Golden-Age works. By the early Seventies I had graduated to the so-called New Wave, Moorcock, Ellison, Delaney and Zelazny dominating my reading, and they led me on to reading, then writing horror.
I more or less stopped reading Science Fiction round about then, but I never stopped watching, especially after Star Wars gave the visual genre a huge push forward. I re-discovered the '50s classics after the advent of the VCR and quickly built a huge collection of movies, many of which I still watch avidly.
Which brings me, in a long winded manner, to the novella, The Invasion. Invasions, and the resulting carnage, have always loomed big in my favorites of the genre, through War of the Worlds, Earth vs Flying Saucers, the original V series and even the spectacular failure of Independence Day. Neil Jackson asked me if I was interested in writing a four-part serial, and laid out a basic timeline. I ran with it, and soon discovered that I had a story to tell.
To regresss slightly, another part of my early reading, and the one that united my Science Fiction reading with my horror reading, was the works of H P Lovecraft. I realised that the Invasion in my story would have Lovecraftian antecedents, in that it would come from space, and be completely uncaring of the doings of the human race. My training as a biologist also made me realise that aliens should be -really- alien, not just simulcra of pre-existing terrestrial forms. Once I had that in my mind, it didn't take much to come up with a "color out of space" that would engulf the planet.
Most Invasion movies concentrate on the doings in big cities, and with the involvement of the full force of the military. I wanted to focus more on what it would mean for the people. Living as I am in Canada, in a remote Eastern corner, I was able to draw on local knowledge and home in on people already used to surviving in extreme conditions. I just upped the ante.
An interest in conspiracy theories and post-apocalypse survivalists also gave me one of the main characters, and the early parts of the story are a news report from the bunker where he has retreated to ride out whatever is coming. So come with me, to a winter storm in the Maritimes, where a strange green snow is starting to fall.
January 22, 2011
Sam.
This is from NaNo2006, much edited and changed from the original November madness that created it. This one was planned and plotted and written with a definite ending and route in mind. It's from the NaNo year that I struggled the most with and really hated when it was finished.
But now I've done with the main Portal series I came across it in an archived writing folder and thought I'd blow the dust off it. With the main story arc now at an end, it may be time to revisit this.
"You're cold?" he asked.
I nodded and shivered again. "I should be going really. I have somewhere I should be.""Should?" he raised an eyebrow in query "You don't wish to go?"
"I have to go" I told him. "I need to go and sort this out. I need some answers." My protest was only really half hearted to be honest. While I had been angry I would have stormed to their door and demanded answers. But now, calmer, I wasn't sure I really did want to know.
He shook his head and his long curly hair rippled. "You don't have to do anything. You feel obliged to them for your raising. But you don't have to do this." I looked at him quizzically and he paused for a moment before he spoke again, as if gauging my reaction. "It's a choice. You choose to owe them your loyalty just as you can choose to walk away. You choose to want to do this thing, just as you can choose to not do it. It's up to you to decide how much this information is a betrayal, how much it means to you. It's up to you if you want to pursue your mother roots and find out who she was, who she is. That path can be followed but it leads into the unknown." He was so eloquent, he made so much sense. He was warm and comforting as he sat there next to me in my car. He was strong and a reassuring presence. I should have been so much more wary. I should have never opened the door. I should never have listened to him. But hindsight is a wonderfully clear thing; it is always in crystal clear focus isn't it. If I'd known what was to come I would have done things differently, or so I like to think. Maybe I would have done exactly the same.
Despite what I should have done, when he reached out a hand, I took it. He gazed deep into my eyes and I was lost. He murmured that I was beautiful, that I deserved better than the life I was living. Yet, even then I was not afraid, I was not even wary. I missed the subtle gestures he must have made. I was oblivious to the magic working through me. I was fogged and distracted by him, by his charisma, by his charm. When he spoke, the words sank deep into the core of me. I believed every word he said then. I believed it like I believed the sun would rise in the morning. He soothed my psyche; he poured balm on my hurts.
"I would show you places and times such as you cannot imagine." His voice purred rather than growled, although it was a deep sound much like you imagine a lion making. "I could open doors for you. I could make you Mistress of a Realm beyond this. For you I would do this, I would choose to do this." I sat there; stunned that anyone would say such things to me. The glamour he cast made me unable to see the flaws in his offer, unable to question it. My throat closed and I was unable to speak. "I'm sorry. I presume too much." He apologised.
"No, it's fine." I found myself defending him, reassuring him. "You just took me by surprise. Don't worry about it."
"Then you will forgive me for being blunt?" He asked.
"Of course." I readily agreed.
"I have watched you from afar for a time now." His admission explained the growing feeling of familiarity I felt instead of awakening my caution as it should have done. "I have watched your life unfold and I have felt a wonder at it. Only tonight was I able to step through and come to you as I should have before."
I am no romantic; my view of the world is jaded. I was a strictly one step at a time kind of girl. Where was that Sam when I needed her caution, her wariness, her reluctance to get involved with anyone? The feeling of strangeness washed over me fleetingly and then was gone, forgotten. His hand was warm and strong around mine. His face smiled gently at me and the world ceased to exist for me. Everything shrank into that one moment, that tiny space inside the car. Nothing else mattered.
So when his hands moved and the light flared I sat and watched.
His hand left mine and he cupped his palms together. His long fingers made a cradle for the tiny spark that formed there. He balanced it in one palm while his free hand flicked fingers around it in a series of complex gestures. His gaze never left my face. A smile eased the corners of his mouth. I wasn't cold anymore. The spark grew and the light swirled and glowed warmly. Within the chaos cupped in his hand there formed a world. He showed me a place with no roads, no buildings. I saw a place unspoiled by people, a place of trees and of green grass. I watched as the breeze gently rustled the branches and rippled the grass. The sun shone there, warm and soft.
Abruptly he closed his hand over the image and it was gone. "It is real." He whispered. "I can take you there." He flung open the car door and stepped out, closing it behind him. He left me there, sitting in my car with the engine running. I could have driven away.
I opened the door and stepped out. I leaned on the roof and I looked around for him. The car vibrated under my hands. He stood with his back to me, facing the old oak. I moved to stand at his shoulder. His face was rapt and he glanced sideways at me. His hands moved in a series of motions. He seemed to pluck threads from the air, moonbeams from the sky and he drew energy from the woods around us. The trees seemed to darken as the light flashed from his fingers to coalesce on the oak tree's trunk. The glow widened and brightened until I could barely stand to look at it. It slowly grew and stabilised but was fixed to the trunk. I walked around the tree but the far side was dark.
"A portal." He breathed. "A portal to my world. Will you come?" He stepped towards it and turned back. He held out a hand, palm up, inviting me to take it and follow him. My heart stood still.
I took his hand and I stepped through the portal. I had no idea where I was going and I didn't care.
Kate reached out and absently picked up the mug that sat near her hand. She sipped at it carefully and was surprised to find it warm rather than hot.
"Fresh one?" Lily's gentle tones came from behind her, making Kate jump.
"Oh Lily, I'm sorry, I forgot you were here." Kate apologised. "I didn't mean to start reading it right now. I just opened it and, well, you know how it is." She shrugged. Lily nodded busying herself filling the kettle again. Kate drank down her lukewarm tea and took her mug over to join Lily. "It looks like an account of what happened while she was gone." Kate murmured quietly.
"I know." Lily agreed.
As always with Sample Sunday, comments and feedback are welcome.
January 20, 2011
Slightly scared.
It's always a slightly nervous moment when a new work goes out to test readers for the first time. A couple of evenings ago I typed in the final scene to fill the last gap on "Child of the Portal" and then I popped it onto my new kindle (love that thing). A quick sense skim and then it was time.
Like ripping off a plaster I just emailed it out to my small handful of trusted test readers, and now I'm going to hide…..But this is an important stage in the journey of any book, the moment when a writer shares it for the first time. This is the moment where I hold my breath and hope that other people love what I've created as much as I do. This is when I dread someone coming back and saying it's rubbish, that they hate it.
This is when I wait for the phone to ring, for that knock on the door (one of the readers is very local!) and for the emails to come back….. I wait with twitching nerves and I hope. After all Child of the Portal is the last in the Portal books, it draws everything to a natural close and there's not really much potential left there for more, certainly not with Kate, Lily and Sam anyway.
These are the times I work on my websites, write business plans and catch up with my accounts. This is time for housework and baking. Anything but writing for a week or two, or three.
After this initial reaction and read through we'll start on the editing and I hope to have it ready for release around Autumn Equinox 20111, Friday Sept 23rd. So, now the search for a cover image will begin too. To stay in the style of the other two books it needs to be a photograph and it needs to have trees in it. I think some walks in the countryside, or local parks, might be in order.
Now, once I have a writing break (and catch up the accounts) I'll need to find someone new to play with. I have Sage waiting in the wings, and then there's Dawn in the wasteland, or Susan and Carol living through catastrophe… I'm not sure if any of them will come through yet, only time will tell.
January 15, 2011
Ever wondered about Lily?
It's Twitter's #samplesunday again, where, once a week, writers offer a sample of their work for readers enjoyment. Of course, we each hope you love it and might go and see what else we've written….
For this week, I'm sharing a half written, unpublished piece, exploring Lily's growing up a little bit, and looking at the first time she opened a Portal between worlds, quite by accident.
I hope you enjoy it.
She sat in the fork of the branches where the bark was worn smooth from generations of children sitting in that exact place. She was eighteen and this was her quiet place as it had been her mother's quiet place before her and her grandmother's quiet place before that. The old yew tree had stood there for longer than anyone could remember and tales of it went back so many generations that no-one knew how old it really was. It was one of those old trees that had its roots in the well of time and formed the life of the forest. Deep green dripped from bowed branches that stayed green all through the snow of deepest winter and here and there it was threaded with blood red berries. It was special and she loved it. Her dark hair caught the sun that crept between those deep green boughs and it glinted with shining copper as it hung loose to rest on on the rich green of her shirt that was torn at the shoulder.
"Elder will be annoyed." She sighed softly, one long fingered hand reaching up to touch the tear where she'd caught herself while climbing up to her quiet place. Her questing fingertips found the drying blood where she'd torn her own skin as well as the fine linen. She explored the injury and decided it would heal on its own without any interference as long as she kept it clean. Her bare feet were muddy and stuck out of the leather trousers that Elder told her were Warrior wear and that weren't appropriate for a lady of her standing, and the shirt would mend but would never be the same. She scowled at the thought and swung her legs, noting the amount of ankle also poking from the bottom of the trousers and making a mental note to get a new pair.
"Why did it have to be this way?" She muttered mutinously with her ice blue eyes flashing with cold fire. "I don't want this, I never wanted this. I was born second, I don't want the Mantle. It's not fair." She jumped from the tree, feeling far too angry for the quiet place, and ran further into the woods, seeking the old oak where she sometimes made the images appear.
Her chest was heaving by the time she reached the wide trunked tree that was just coming back into bud with the days lengthening into Spring. Her shirt stuck to her with sweat that chilled her as she rested her stiff angry back against the rough bark with her blue eyes squeezed tightly closed against the tears that threatened. She rubbed fingertips against the bark, feeling the texture of deep ridges there and her toes spread wide in the grass between the gnarled roots that spread from the base in mirror of the branches above her head and she felt the love of the land for her through that connection. She leaned her head back against the trunk, turning her face upwards to face the overhead sun that cast warmth and light through the bare branches and she kept her eyes closed to soak up that heat that danced spring through her eyelids. She heard the sound of someone running and she groaned silently inside.
"Lilith?" A voice called.
"I'm here." She called back, not moving from her position leaning back against the oak tree and her eyes stayed closed.
The footsteps slowed as they broke free of the trees and came closer. "Are you well? What's wrong?" It was a familiar female voice, as familiar as Lilith's own voice because they had grown together since conception but Heather was a few moments older and had been expected to inherit the family Mantle and titles from their mother. But no, her power had failed to mature properly and was incomplete so it had fallen to Lilith. Not identical, Heather was an inch shorter than Lilith, prone to being more round and her hair was a pale mouse brown shot with the gold of a rising summer sun and her eyes were deep pools of green.
"I just don't want to be here, I don't want to be me." Lilith whispered softly and her eyes opened and she stumbled. Connected as deeply as she was the magic surged without warning and the tree opened. Lilith felt Heather's hand grip her wrist as she stepped slowly away from the old oak that shone with the light of several suns at midsummer. It was blinding.
"What is that?" Heather gasped, her hand moving to hold Lilith's hand firmly.
"I don't know." Lilith murmured, more fascinated than afraid as she stepped forward to look more closely. "It's like a tunnel, or a passageway. Did I make it happen?"
"I think you did." Heather agreed, allowing Lilith to pull them both towards the light spilling from the tree.
Lilith reached out a hand and it reached into the light. She stepped forwards. "Coming?" She grinned over her shoulder, caught in the adventure and not caring what happened next.
"I don't know Lilith." Heather protested, pulling back. "I don't think we should, it might be dangerous. You have no idea if it goes anywhere or if it will disappear when we go in. Anything might happen."
"We'll never find out if we don't go and look." Lilith tugged at Heather's hand, "Come on." She stepped into the blazing light and Heather had to choose whether to follow or to pull her hand free.
She followed, clinging tightly to her younger sister's hand as they walked slowly into the the light still blazing from the trunk of the tree. Lilith looked back and found she could see the grass and trees of her home behind her but although she could feel solidity beneath her bare feet she could see nothing, only blank dazzling whiteness. But in the distance there was something, a smudge of something, a shadow, and Lilith took them towards it.
Lilith stepped through the shadow and onto fresh green grass, with Heather's hand still held tightly. The sun shone brightly and the trees were showing the first signs of spring buds and Heather thought they had come back to the old oak, which towered above them with the light cascading from its trunk. They took a few steps from the tree and the light went out.
"We need to get back." Heather clung to Lilith's arm.
"Wait, please," a male voice whispered, heavy with pain. "I know not who you may be my Ladies, but please, be you angels or demons will you help me?"
He lay against a nearby tree, his shoulders slumped and with blood all down one leg. He was dressed in a coat of mid blue with a woolen shirt beneath and grey woolen breeches that came to just below his knees and his cream hose were filthy with mud on one leg and dark with his own blood on the other. His skin was pale beneath the dirt and at several days of stubble lined his chin and jaw, surrounding a full lipped mouth that lay half open as he struggled to stay focused. His eyes were dark as the night and his hair was midnight black as a raven's wing.
Heather pulled free of Lilith's hand and ran to kneel at his side. "Where are you hurt?" She asked him gently. "I will do what I can." He relaxed a little then but pain was still etched into the lines of his young face as he lifted a hand to show a slash to his leg mid way between knee and hip, on the outside of his thigh. A blade had bitten deep and the bleeding had not yet stopped.
Lilith's eyes narrowed at the sight of the wound and she looked around. At his side was a sheathed sword with a battered hilt and two parts of a broken pike. He looked up at her and smiled. "I am in no state to do you harm My Lady. My name is Samuel and I fought with Lord Grey's Regiment of Foot and was thus injured but the battle has moved on and I remain here to live or die as God ordains and He has sent you to me. I pray you may staunch the bleeding so I have a chance to live to return home."
"Rest now," Heather told him, "I will do what I can," and she laid her hands on his leg, either side of the wound and focused her mind on the slash sealing up but from the deepest part first so any dirt would be expelled as it closed. The air seemed to swim before her green eyes and she swayed, suddenly off balance.
"Heather?" Lilith was there with a hand on her shoulder, concern in her voice. "What's wrong?"
"I can't draw from here, there's not enough power flowing here. We are so very far from home." Heather removed her hands and wiped them on the grass.
"Perhaps together?" Lilith crouched beside her sister and they both placed their hands on Samuel's leg and Heather felt the healing force flow between them and the wound began to close. The last edges of skin sealed into a neat line of red scar tissue and Lily rocked back on her heels to see Heather gazing at Samuel who now lay with his head slumped on his chest with his eyes mercifully closed.
"He is beautiful." Heather whispered, picking up his hand and running the tips of her fingers over the dark hair that curled beside his knuckles, finding and caressing the callouses of a fighting man used to wielding both pike and sword.
"He is that," Lilith agreed easily, "but we must return home. He will live."
"Must we?" Heather didn't look away from him as he groaned and began to stir. "It is peaceful here, there are no demands on us. We could have a family without the Mantle, without the responsibility."
"That's something I've never wanted Heather." Lilith reached out and pulled Heather to her feet. Samuel's eyes were fluttering open and it wouldn't be long before he regained consciousness. "We have to go and before he wakes." Lilith wasn't sure why but it felt important that Samuel didn't see the magic happening.
They stood at the old oak and Lilith closed her eyes and shivered. "Oh Gods, this place is so grey, where are we?" she whispered softly. "I want to go home." and her lip trembled as if she were on the verge of tears as she reached out to the rough bark and as her fingers would have touched it they passed through instead and the light blazed forth.
Heather grabbed Lilith's hand and they ran into the light, hoping that it would just vanish once they were through and that Samuel had missed the whole thing. They fell out onto fresh spring grass, breathless and wide eyed and still clutching each other by the hand.
"Where did we go?" Heather murmured, staring up at the towering oak tree.
"I have no idea," Lilith replied in a soft reverent whisper, "but it was wonderful. Our own secret place that only we can go to." Her pale blue eyes shone with her exhilaration and her face was rapt as she stared at her own hands, instinctively knowing that her own growing power was the cause and that she'd be able to do it again if she could work out how.
"We should get back." Heather sat up. "Mother sent me to find you and Elder will be worried."
"Elder is always worried." Lilith scowled. "Go on ahead and tell them I'm coming." She got up and kicked at the grass with her bare feet.
"You should wear shoes." Heather said distractedly, "Mother says you need shoes."
"I prefer my feet to be bare and I will wear what I like." Lilith stalked off into the trees, away from the settlement and Heather almost followed her but changed her mind after a few steps and ran home instead.
Hair falling forward and into her face Lilith stumbled through the trees and onto soft, damp ground where she sagged onto a moss covered rock beside a grove of alders where she sat leaning her arms on her knees and she stared at the forest floor.
It seemed an age later but it was more likely only a few minutes when Lilith raised her head and realised that she was being watched. "Who are you?" She asked, unafraid and curious.
"Come, I can help you." Green tinged lips moved in a pale face that was wet as if just emerged from water. Hair like river weed hung long around her face and she smiled as she lifted a hand to Lilith.
"You're a naiad?" Lilith asked, getting to her feet and taking in the appearance of the woman who stood before her with a long pale dress that came down to her ankles and her bare feet showed clearly on the soft grass, barely denting it with her weight.
"I am," she smiled with her hand still held out until Lilith took it and felt cool, wet, long fingers wrap around her own. "I knew your Mother and her Mother before her, and I can help you. Come into my dry-home?" Lilith nodded and the Naiad showed her the way into the Alder grove and where to pour water into the twist of roots to open narrow steps leading downwards, and which words to use or the opening would not happen.
As she reached the bottom of the steps Lilith saw for the first time the Naiad's dry-home that would become as familiar to her as her own home. It was thick with shadows but there was some light and Lilith's eyes soon adjusted to see wooden furniture sitting on dry earth floors and against stone walls. She stood in a space that looked as if it was designed for meeting, or eating. There was a heavy table to one side with benches on both of the long side and a chair at each end. An archway opened onto a short passage and Lilith could hear the bubble of gentle water somewhere. The Naiad stood quietly and let her see and feel what was there.
Lilith felt the peace and the calm that the water brought and spread through the dry-home. Even not knowing what lay beyond the archway she was safe and had no need or desire to explore further without the Naiad's permission or company. Her bare feet spoke to her of dry earth deep beneath the few hand depths of life rich soil that sustained the trees above. The energy flowed smoothly here, soft and warm and gentle.
"How can you help?" She asked quietly.
"I can teach you the calm of the Mother Water and I can teach you the meditations that bind and control your magic while giving it strength and focus. But only if you are willing to listen and learn." The Naiad's voice was soft and musical like her water and Lilith smiled before she turned.
"I am willing." She said.
"No," the Naiad told her, "you are not willing or ready. You only think you are because you are here. When you leave you will remember your hate and your fear and you will run again before you accept who you are and who you are to become. When you have accepted that then I can teach you. Until then we can just be friends if you wish it. I will never deny you entrance here."
Lilith stormed back up the narrow steps and ran from the Alder Grove and she didn't stop running until she reached her Mother's yurt and flung herself onto her bed.
"I have to go and find him." Heather whispered in the dark.
"Who?" Lilith hissed back, anxious to not wake their Mother.
"Samuel, the man in that place through the tree. I need to see that he is healing properly."
Lilith snorted. "You mean he was gorgeous and you want to see if he'll kiss you."
"I could lose myself in his eyes." Heather admitted. "But no, I really should check that he is healing properly. After all the magic wasn't working well there and I worry that perhaps his wound opened again."
"A wound on those lovely manly legs that you can't wait to get your hands on you mean." Lilith giggled into her hand.
"Well, I suppose I might have to place my hands on those thighs." Heather grinned in the dark. "Just to be sure he's healed properly."
My published books are available through the following links, and of course on the main part of my website if you fancy a signed copy to give as a gift.
Sarah Barnard – for signed copies
The Portal Series on Amazon – for paperback or kindle editions. The link goes to my Author page where you can find all titles and all editions to choose from.
The Portal Series on Smashwords – for other e-book formats. The link takes you to my profile page, where you can find all my titles and all ebook formats.
January 9, 2011
Sample Sunday – The Portal Between.
This week's Sample is from my first novel, "The Portal Between", which was written on the back of a dare and wasn't planned or plotted at all, it just grew.
This extract is from Chapter 11 – A Portal in the bedroom, and contains one of my favourite descriptive passages from this book and was where Lily really began to come out as more than she first appeared, justifying the secrecy she'd been showing up til that point.
Just remember that Sam is only just home from hospital and is exhausted and twitchy after all that has happened to her so far….
I hope you enjoy it.
Beneath the light of a waning moon and with the room lit only by the natural flame of a handful of candles, Lily lifted the lid of the intricately carved wooden box and revealed the silk wrapped bundle inside. She pulled the beautifully illustrated cards from the deep green silk cloth and set them to one side. She then set more candles around the cloth and lit them in order. She laid one hand, palm down on the tarot deck and rested it there for a moment. She took several deep breaths and centred herself. This was no standard reading for a paying client, this was personal and much more serious. She cut the deck, rotating the top part so it was reversed, cut it again. She picked up the pile of cards and one fell out. She let it lay where it fell, and shuffled the remaining cards. Her mind was focused and she was calm and relaxed as she sat shuffling the cards. Nothing moved except her hands and the flickering flames from the candles. She let her eyes slide closed as she dealt a selection of cards into a recognisable pattern on the cloth. The rest of the pack she laid reverently back in the wooden box before opening her eyes to see the patterns the tarot had to show.
Lily sat and stared with astonished wide eyes at the spread for a long moment, hardly daring to breathe. The hair on the back of her neck stood up in shivering waves. Her breath came faster.
"SHIT!" The word was wrenched from her and she reached for the phone.
It was pitch dark. Dark clouds slid across the sky to hide the crescent of the waning moon and any stars that might have dared show themselves. The wooden floor was cold and felt damp under Sam's bare feet as she slipped out of the warm bed, careful to leave Kate sleeping. The door creaked as she slowly eased it open. The house was dark and still as she crept down the stairs.
Unable to sleep she'd decided a hot drink would help but now she was in the kitchen she couldn't decide what she wanted. She boiled the kettle from habit but left the mug cold and empty, with a tea bag sitting forlornly in the bottom. She poked up the fire a bit, added a couple of logs and sat musing for a while. Something was niggling at the back of her mind and she couldn't place it. She scowled deep into the fire, watching the pictures dancing in the flames.
The flicker of the fire struck sparks of light from the shining blade of the small hand axe that Kate kept for splitting small logs. The log pile would need to be filled tomorrow so there was a steady supply of dry wood for burning. The log store outside was brimming, they'd seen to that last weekend.
The kettle now cold and the mug untouched Sam rose and turned to go back to bed. She froze as she heard a soft rapping at the door. She reached down and took a firm hold of the axe. Holding it ready to strike she padded over to the door. She gripped it and flung it open, the axe dropping like a stone, the weight of the cold iron head carrying it forward.
Lily leapt back, narrowly avoiding the attack.
"I thought you might be awake." Lily said simply. Sam brought the axe back up in a smooth arc but kept a firm grip on it.
"What are you doing here?" She asked Lily suspiciously. "It's the middle of the night!"
"Not quite. It's close to midnight and it's Solstice. Where else should I be?" Lily was calm, very calm, too calm. She was dressed warmly in a pair of dark trousers, sturdy walking boots, a thick chunky burgundy sweater and a long coat. The coat billowed out round her like a cloak as she headed for the stairs.
If you liked this and want to read more then The Portal Between can be bought using the links below, or from the main site here.
The Portal Between – Paperback on Amazon
The Portal Between – Kindle edition
The Portal Between – Other ebook formats
January 6, 2011
Why Willie Meikle wrote "CRUSTACEANS"
Today I am honoured to offer a guest post by William Meikle, author of Crustaceans, and many other titles but it's Crustaceans he wants to talk about today. However, do go and take a good look at his website and Amazon author page.
Over to Willie…
Big beasties fascinate me.Some of that fascination stems from early film viewing. I remember being taken to the cinema to see The Blob. I couldn't have been more than seven or eight, and it scared the crap out of me. The original incarnation of Kong has been with me since around the same time. Similarly, I remember the BBC showing re-runs of classic creature features late on Friday nights, and THEM! in particular left a mark on my psyche. I've also got a Biological Sciences degree, and even while watching said movies, I'm usually trying to figure out how the creature would actually work in nature — what would it eat? How would it procreate? What effect would it have on the environment around it?
On top of that, I have an interest in cryptozoology, of creatures that live just out of sight of humankind, and of the myriad possibilities that nature, and man's dabbling with it, can throw up.
All those things were going round in my head when I first sat down to write the novella Crustaceans.
As I started I only knew one or two things — that there would be whales involved somewhere, and that the Crabs would be in the tunnels and sewers under the city. After some fascinating research into the history of excavations and tunneling I made a start.
I worked out a full ecological profile and lifecycle for my "beasts" but most of that went by the board as the plot took over. It went quickly, and I found myself enjoying it immensely. It runs in my head like a movie, and I'd love to see it on the big screen one day, or as a comic book. That's how I think of it — big, brash and bloody.
January 2, 2011
Portal 3 for SampleSunday
This weekend, as a special New years treat I am offering you a scene from my current work in progress, Child of The Portal – otherwise known as Portal 3. I hope it doesn't give too much away.
Drummer felt it as he walked at the side of the pool that sat at the base of the waterfall, and he turned away and ran back towards the settlement. The Naiad watched him go.
Elder felt it and strode from her yurt to see. Healer felt it and appeared at the door to the yurt where Midnight and Dusk still lay slowly healing. Heads turned around the fire and they waited, some with their hands resting on sheathed weapons, some not, but all wary and alert.
Drummer pounded across the grass and into the heart of the settlement as the light forming a portal began to build. He skidded to a sliding halt beside Elder and stood there, chest heaving and a hand on the hilt of his sword, but he did not draw it.
A solitary figure walked from the light with arms held out to the sides, hands clearly empty. Drummer blinked and looked closer. Dove's hair was a mess, blown by wind and unkempt, but she looked well, uninjured. But alone? No, more figures were emerging.
Drummer leapt past her with his blade singing from the sheath as he bore Hiann to the ground in a single rush.
Gentian screamed beside him, words but formless in his ears as blood thundered through his anger. She laid her hands on his back, gripping his clothing and trying to pull him off but he hunkered down and stayed steady with his knees holding Hiann's arms to the ground and the flat of his blade pressed against his brother's throat. Gentians hands hit Drummer over and over and her voice melted into the cacophony that was building around him and he couldn't make out individual words through the rage thundering through his blood and that thundered in his ears. Jaw set and eyes blazing, Drummer leaned over his brother and his arm flexed, pushing the blade of his sword into the softly yielding skin of Hiann's throat. He twisted the sword so the newly sharpened edge rested there and his nostrils flared, chest heaving and his arm was a tight and hard as the bark of an oak.
Drummer's whole body was tensed and ready, but Hiann just lay on his back on the ground and didn't struggle, didn't fight back. Drummer was lighter, and although burning with his surge of rage he shouldn't have been able to hold Hiann as easily as this.
Gentian stopped hitting him and threads of doubt wormed their way into Drummer's head as a hand leaned heavily on his shoulder and another slipped round to grip his sword. The noise died and the silence wrapped around them. Warmth flooded through him and he felt his grip slacken.
"Let go." Lily murmured in his ear as she pulled the blade away from Hiann's throat and out of Drummer's hand, leaving the thinnest line of blood where the edge of the sharp blade slid against the dark skin. She passed the blade behind her, out of sight, and Drummer didn't know if someone took it or if she laid it on the grass, but it was out of his reach. "Let him go, Drummer." Lily leaned on his back to get back up to her feet again and as her hand slipped from his shoulder he let his arm fly forwards and his tightly clenched fist hit Hiann on the same cheek that Kate had slapped, feeling the satisfying crack of bone. He pulled back and hit him again, splitting skin and spraying blood, before Lily could turn and stop him. The noise rose around them again, people shouting, screaming at him to stop but he didn't listen, blinded and driven by white hot rage. His fist flew a third time, splintering Hiann's jaw, and then she managed to catch his hand and there were other hands on his clothing, heaving at him and dragging him backwards. Tracker and his brother each pinned one of Drummer's arms while Runner held him round the waist and tried to avoid his flailing legs as he struggled to break free.
Lily knelt on one side of Hiann, a hand resting on his cheek. "He'll live." She spoke sharply and Gentian, kneeling on his other side, flinched. A soft glow eased from Lily's fingers and soaked into his cheek. "The bones are knitted and the skin sealed; the rest can heal on its own." She rocked back on her heels, glanced at Gentian, and then stood easily, and turned with the grace of someone in complete control. Hiann stirred on the ground behind her.
"Drummer!" Lily snapped. He glared at her and pushed at those holding him before allowing himself to relax and even then the hands on him didn't slacken their grip. Drummer forced his eyes to lower and as he did she nodded to Tracker and they let go but didn't move away, ready to grab Drummer again if needed. Drummer eased up to sitting, folded his long legs underneath him and slowly rose to his feet. Dove held his sword and Drummer reached for it but Lily shook her head and Dove moved it away.
"Your brother will not die at your hand." Lily spoke loud and clear so everybody heard. "I brought him here so your fight is with me and not with him." She paused and let that sink in. "Will you stand against me Drummer?" She waited, reining in the temptation to let her awareness find his reaction, knowing he would feel it and that could trigger his anger again.
Drummer stood taller than Lily but he kept his eyes down, staring unseeing at the grass at his feet. Anger warred with anguish and he trembled with his arms folded tight against his chest, which heaved with each steadying breath he dragged in and forced out. A muscle in his cheek twitched and his teeth were clenched so hard it must have made his jaw ache. Dove moved away from him to stand with Kate and Susan, but Tracker and his brother flanked him with their arms held loosely at their sides.
"How?" He managed.
"Lilith?" Elder spoke from behind her at the same time and Lily turned her head a fraction but didn't take her eyes off Drummer.
"Elder." She acknowledged in a voice carefully controlled, her attention split between Drummer in front of her and Hiann behind her. Lily could hear Elder behind her but dared not turn or listen until she was sure that Drummer wouldn't harm his brother.
"Drummer," Elder barked, "Leave it, let it go." His head came up to look past Lily and at his mother. The tension didn't drain out of him but he did shudder and force an easing of his arms, letting his arms drop to hang at his sides and relaxing fists into open hands. His eyes slid to look directly at Lily and he nodded, a brief jerk of his head but an agreement. Then he turned his back on her and walked away, brushing past Kate and Susan and out of the settlement with determined, long, measured strides.
Lily's mouth pressed into a thin line and she glared after him. "Damn." She muttered.
"What did you expect?" Elder was still just behind her and now Lily could turn and see the mix of emotion on Elder's face and in her stance. Shoulders shook with relief and shock, eyes glistened with tears and a hand was raised to lay against her breast, which shuddered as she breathed in shallow gasps. "I am glad to see you, but, how? First you fall and we couldn't find you, and then the child vanishes? We thought you dead. I couldn't grieve for you, I couldn't let myself." Tears spilled then, flowed freely down Elder's seamed cheeks and tore at Lily's soul as Elder reached out to touch her arm, slowly, tentatively as if reaching for mist, or a ghost. "You're alive?"
