Elaina J. Davidson's Blog, page 52
June 6, 2024
June 3, 2024
Excerpt: Minstrel of the Water Willow - Marking Time
To step from shadows is to know light
Storms came andwent.
A fire swept through the valleyand annihilated great swathes of land. Many of the trees on the fringes of theforests all around succumbed, although the deep regions remained untouched. Droughtwas supreme for two summer seasons. The coldest winter in all memory followed.
Erin remained despite everytribulation. She had chosen to remove herself from her society. After the deathof her daughter she lost all interest. He no longer cared much for his socialcircle either. The unhappier she became, the more he withdrew from others closeto him, including his parents. Most days he hunkered, watching Erin. It was a senselessobsession, but truth was there was no Fay woman who drew him as much as shedid.
While he was older than she wasin years, he appeared far younger, and thus kept his distance. She would seehim as a youth and would not understand the years already in his mind.
How utterly unfair. He wished hewas human.
His music suffered. Morecorrectly, his reputation as a minstrel suffered, for he rarely took to thecircuit to play for others.
He played for Erin, softly, onthe edge of hearing.
Kell watched her gradually regainher physical strength and her purpose for life. He saw how she tended hervegetables in the fields in view to him and noticed fat and healthy chickensroaming freely. She was successful at both growing and rearing and soon hadexcess with which to trade for other goods. Twice a month she loaded her smallcart, and set off to market.
Often he would then head into thesmaller villages and make music for his own keep.
When Erin turned forty, with finelines at her eyes, he noticed how she gazed across the river as if sensing hispresence when he merely watched her, when he made no lyrical sound. Was she asaware of him as he was of her? If she was, never did she say a word, althoughonce or twice she did smile secretly.
His heart set up an uneven rhythmwhen she did so.
Many of the Fay moved into thehighlands in those years, for more humans had entered the valley. His parentstoo chose to relocate, but he was determined to stay and thus took possessionof his childhood home as his own. His mother was sad, reading in him the signsof unrequited love, knowing also the choice was his. He was considered adultamong his kind.
Humans, however, would regard himas a youth.
On the banks of a river, a boy sees and hears a girllaughing, the most glorious music, and falls in love. Time, however, is not thesame for them. Erin is human; Kell is something other.
Kell watches her from the shadows under the willow at thewater’s edge, refusing to surrender to their differences. For Erin he plays themost beautiful music, for he may never speak to her and she cannot ever seehim. Music becomes their words.
Love, however, cannot measure time. The minstrel maintainshis vigil; his muse listens for his song, and both move through the yearsalone, until the day something changes …
MINSTRELMINSTREL
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May 26, 2024
Excerpt: T I N S A L - About junipers & March hares
“Who is that?”Terra pointed to the right, squinting in the new shadows thrown by the ancienttree beside them.
An old woman, bentover with age or cares, ambled slowly along the far hedgerow, seeminglysniffing at the berries and blossoms there. Terra had the distinct feeling thatshe sent her gaze at Broadwood more often than was necessary when out walkingin the fresh air.
“That would be MaMarch,” Folly muttered. “Mad as the March Juniper, probably how she got hername. She lives in a cottage on Ferntree.” He frowned and began to glancerepeatedly over his shoulder.
“What is it?”Rhodry asked in a low tone.
“Jonah will dohis nut when he sees her.”
“Why?”
“He hatesthinking of Ferntree even by indirect reminder, you know that. Its proximity toBroadwood …” Folly gestured beyond the hedgerow. “… often keeps him fromvisiting here. When he surrendered his assets to the Church, he thought he wasdoing the right thing, as a priest has no need of earthly wealth, after all,but now he begins to wonder if he erred.’
“He erred,”Rhodry said.
Folly placedhands on hips. “How is that, my friend? Jonah will never further his line. Whykeep a manor house, one ageing year by year into disrepair without adequatemaintenance? For his old age? The Church will place him in care. More thanlikely it will be decent care after his very generous gift. How, therefore, didhe err?”
“He was too hastyafter his father died. He allowed grief to–”
“Grief hadnothing to do with it. Jonah’s conscience came into play.”
“But you mustadmit he was too hasty,” Rhodry insisted.
Folly swung away.“Maybe. Still, what is done is done. And it is also a truth that he hatesreminders of his departed legacy … and Ma March is a direct reminder.”
“How?” Terra asked.
“She was hisnursemaid for many years.”
Rhodry made aface. “Perhaps she stalks that hedgerow for a reason, one other than smellingthe bounty.”
“That’s whatworries me,” Folly muttered.
Terra wasdecisive. “Then you two distract Jonah while I talk to her.”
Without awaitingconfirmation, she headed down the steps to walk with purpose across themanicured lawn towards the far boundary. She hoped the two men would heed her,but did not look back to check. She had to seem authoritative to the waitingwatcher.
Yes, Ma March hadstraightened and was waiting.
“WHOARE YOU?” the older woman demanded as Terra came to rest on her side of thehedgerow. “I must speak with Jonah.”
Terra eyed her.“I am Terra. You’re not mad at all.”
A blink, then atwinkle appeared in faded blue eyes. “A mad woman is allowed certain liberties.No junipers in my line. My family name is, in fact, March. Suits my purpose toappear mad, it does.”
“Your purpose?”
“I swore to lookout for the young master of Ferntree, and I aim to keep that promise until Idraw my final breath. His mother entrusted his well-being to me and if there isone woman I have every respect for, it is Ruth Ferntree, bless her departedsoul.”
Terra frowned.“Why are you telling me? Why trust me?”
“You are Terra.”
Terra abruptlybent over, hands to knees, sucking in deep breaths. “Someone has said that tome in my dreams since I was a child. Youare Terra, she says, many nights. You? How? Why?”
“Dear, calmyourself. There are connections everywhere. In some manner or another we areall of us linked. You heard me, I saw you, and now we meet.”
“How?” Terrawhispered, managing to straighten.
“There is magicin the world, dear. This particular society may not feel it as it should befelt, but it exists nonetheless.” Ma March changed direction then, much toTerra’s consternation. “Do you know of Amaris?”
It took Terra afair few moments to focus. “The witch?”
“Many call herthat, yes, and she has power, thus they are not wrong … only misled about whatexactly a witch is. Amaris is dead.”
A bluntstatement, that, one which served to further confuse. “That’s terrible, but–”
“Zanderin visitedwith her this morning.”
Terra wassilenced.
“Now you wonderhow Amaris is connected to the Stone. Not so? She was the love of KellSindaland’s life, that’s how.”
Terra puffed outher cheeks, feeling completely lost. “She died because a dead man once lovedher?”
“Yes.”
“How terrible.”
“What is terribleis that Rhodry Fairweather has lost the ability to use her wisdom, and thatmeans Jonah loses some of the protection that surrounds Rhodry.”
“What?” Shesounded wholly ignorant, but this old woman now spoke in riddles. “You are notmaking sense.”
A wrinkled handreached across the hedgerow to grip her wrist. “Dear, just listen. You areTerra. Listen and tell them.” Maintaining a paralysing grip, she glanced overher shoulder. “The holier-than-thou churchmen search for me. Part of the dealfor Ferntree is my continued existence, something Jonah insisted upon. Makesthem avid little watchdogs, I’m afraid.”
She turned backto capture Terra’s eyes in a fierce, intense gaze, one as paralysing as herhold on her wrist.
“Listen. Manyyears ago Amaris spoke words of protection for Rhodry Fairweather, but itsefficacy is less now that she is passed beyond. It’s there, but less. Thedanger to all of you young ones is thus greater than it was just an hour ago.Be aware of this and help Jonah where you are able, for I cannot do so myself,other than to speak the warning. And know this also, many will die before thisis over. The Tinsal whore cannot be turned from her path. She has a tarot card,one she allocated to herself, for she is part of the net of connections afterall. Clever girl. It binds her to see it done.”
“How do you knowall this?”
“Because I havethe same card, dear. Oh, it wasn’t delivered me by that fool Zanderin; it is acard handed down in my family, woman to woman, until it came to me. One will beleft, our story goes, and she will be the one who knows of the other.”
“I don’tunderstand,” Terra urged.
“The Manipulator, child. We call it Destiny.I am the last of my line. My destiny is to know when another takes up thiseccentric card, and Bronwyn has now done that. And not even Zanderin knows.Tell Rhodry. It gifts him insights Zanderin is forced to overlook in hisignorance … oh, here they come, my watchdogs.”
An astonishedTerra witnessed an utter transformation. Within moments Ma March was again bentand frail and seemingly as crazy as the juniper with which she was associated.Ma March winked at her and shuffled away. She wandered into the clutches ofthree robed figures and did not look back.
The priestsmerely nodded in Terra’s direction. Thank heavens they were an incurious bunch.
Why were junipersconsidered crazy? It had something to do with dwarf trees and souls within, achildren’s tale once, now folklore. Drawing breath after breath, never mind the bloody junipers, sheberated herself, Terra strolled back to Broadwood.
Rhodry wasoutside, waiting.
His seductivesmile drew her ever nearer.
Fantasy with a twist; akin to analternate Assassin’s Creed, where tarot cards are the weapons.
Bronwyn, a woman scorned, loses herhonour, status, and her leg, and now the time has come to exact retribution.
Zanderin, a sorcerer bound toher, waves his magic over the attention seeking cards, each with a nameattached, and every card becomes a symbol of doom. This is a cosmic deck, dealingin fate. Via his swift carriage, hooded and cloaked, he is the harbinger and assassin.
Terra meets her betrothed,Rhodry, when Zanderin gifts his first card. Rhodry and Zanderin are connected,and everyone linked to them is on Bronwyn’s list of names.
TINSAL is about bloodlines, secrets,and a controlled society. As the cards are dealt, death follows, until theendgame moves to Castle Tinsal itself.
