S.A. Archer's Blog, page 13
November 18, 2011
End of the World 6/7
Chapter Three
How exactly the world could come to an end and life go on, Lugh didn't know. He felt like a sleepwalker. He'd bathed and changed from his bloodied clothing, as he'd done after hundreds of battles before. The routine carried him through where thoughts failed him. The lesser fey handled the preparations for the corpse. Lugh oversaw, more to have another Sidhe present rather than to truly assist. The All-Mother deserved so much more, but Lugh had nothing left to give.
Her body was cleaned and dressed in glittering white. Her gloved hands were joined together over her stomach, holding the hilt of the silver dagger than slew her. The blade rested between her breasts. The silver did not touch the skin and so would not damage the body further. Danu would not decay. She would just slowly fade away.
All fey were partially physical and partially magic. Without the constant and renewing breath of magic coming into her, Danu would eventually become less corporeal, becoming as a ghost until finally she vanished into nothingness.
Lugh helped to lift the glass cover into place over the velvet pallet that served as the All-Mother's final bed. His tears finally began their silent spill to burn down his cheeks as the procession began into the undercroft deep beneath the temple. The fey scattered a carpet of flowers before them. Fairy lights twinkled in the dark passageway to the deepest chamber, haphazardly strung along the route at irregular heights. A few of the dwarves had carved a fine stone pedestal for the glass casket to rest upon. Lugh ensured its perfect alignment before setting down the burden.
He knelt before the All-Mother, in her final slumber. His forehead rested against the glass side. Eyes closed.
All of the fey would Fade now, as the All-Mother's body did. Mourning her, he mourned his people, his home, his own life. Time would not extend before him endlessly, as it always had in the past. Without Danu, there were no Mounds. Without the Mounds, there was no source of fey magic. The flow and renewal of the magic that fed into each fey and powered their magic came from the Mounds.
"Why would anyone do this? Did they not know?"
A hand softly rested upon his shoulder. Lugh ignored it. Only when the hand squeezed did he finally lift his gaze.
The Scribe offered him a sorrowful smile. During the preparations someone spoke the Scribe's name. Lugh searched his emotion-torn memory. Willem. The Scribe's name was Willem.
"All may not be lost, Champion." Willem nodded meaningfully across the chamber. All of the other fey had wandered away, dealing with grief in their own ways. The loss of the All-Mother devastated. More than just this, though, all lost family and friends in the collapse as well.
Can't wait to see what happens next? Get the full story right now!
Part 7/7 of "End of the World" coming on 11/22/11!
How exactly the world could come to an end and life go on, Lugh didn't know. He felt like a sleepwalker. He'd bathed and changed from his bloodied clothing, as he'd done after hundreds of battles before. The routine carried him through where thoughts failed him. The lesser fey handled the preparations for the corpse. Lugh oversaw, more to have another Sidhe present rather than to truly assist. The All-Mother deserved so much more, but Lugh had nothing left to give.
Her body was cleaned and dressed in glittering white. Her gloved hands were joined together over her stomach, holding the hilt of the silver dagger than slew her. The blade rested between her breasts. The silver did not touch the skin and so would not damage the body further. Danu would not decay. She would just slowly fade away.
All fey were partially physical and partially magic. Without the constant and renewing breath of magic coming into her, Danu would eventually become less corporeal, becoming as a ghost until finally she vanished into nothingness.
Lugh helped to lift the glass cover into place over the velvet pallet that served as the All-Mother's final bed. His tears finally began their silent spill to burn down his cheeks as the procession began into the undercroft deep beneath the temple. The fey scattered a carpet of flowers before them. Fairy lights twinkled in the dark passageway to the deepest chamber, haphazardly strung along the route at irregular heights. A few of the dwarves had carved a fine stone pedestal for the glass casket to rest upon. Lugh ensured its perfect alignment before setting down the burden.
He knelt before the All-Mother, in her final slumber. His forehead rested against the glass side. Eyes closed.
All of the fey would Fade now, as the All-Mother's body did. Mourning her, he mourned his people, his home, his own life. Time would not extend before him endlessly, as it always had in the past. Without Danu, there were no Mounds. Without the Mounds, there was no source of fey magic. The flow and renewal of the magic that fed into each fey and powered their magic came from the Mounds.
"Why would anyone do this? Did they not know?"
A hand softly rested upon his shoulder. Lugh ignored it. Only when the hand squeezed did he finally lift his gaze.
The Scribe offered him a sorrowful smile. During the preparations someone spoke the Scribe's name. Lugh searched his emotion-torn memory. Willem. The Scribe's name was Willem.
"All may not be lost, Champion." Willem nodded meaningfully across the chamber. All of the other fey had wandered away, dealing with grief in their own ways. The loss of the All-Mother devastated. More than just this, though, all lost family and friends in the collapse as well.
Can't wait to see what happens next? Get the full story right now!
Part 7/7 of "End of the World" coming on 11/22/11!
November 15, 2011
End of the World 5/7
Chapter Two
The only way to preserve what might yet survive of the crumbling Mounds was to save Danu. Lugh knew this as certainly as he knew his sole purpose now was to save her, their home and their people. The magic of his teleportation brought Lugh to the grand receiving hall of Danu's temple in the heart of Ireland. Far above the Mounds secreted below the ground.
"Assist me!" Lugh bellowed, his voice echoing into the temple and bringing an immediate rush of lesser fey servants, mostly Brownies and fairies from the look of them. Over the screams and weeping at the sight of their mistress' bloody body, one Scribe urged Lugh to convey the All-Mother to her chamber. The room turned out not to be a bedroom as he anticipated, but a private magicraft workshop. Lugh arranged Danu upon the altar, the knife handle rising like a beacon of death from her chest. The silver would slowly poison her, but if he pulled out the blade unprepared, she would bleed out in seconds.
"The Mounds are crumbling. We must act with swift diligence." Lugh pressed a hand against the wound on her cooling, blood-soaked chest.
The Scribe touched the All-Mother's neck and then met Lugh's eyes. As lesser fey went, Scribes always had the tendency to appear grave in expression. Large eyes that perpetually worried. Thin, short bodies hedging on underfed and spindly. Pasty, green-tinged skin on faces that rarely left the library or archive long enough to have a passing familiarity with sunlight. Even for a Scribe, this one's mournful expression spoke volumes.
Growling, Lugh shouted, "She has lived many thousands of years. No mere blade shall be the death of her! Fetch a healer!"
"There is nothing to be done," the Scribe whispered.
Lugh reached across Danu's body and snatched the Scribe by the front of his pressed white shirt, staining it with blood. "You lie! Bring the healer!"
"I am the healer, Sire ." The Scribe covered Lugh's hand with both of his, not to pry but to let the magic flow from his fingertips and prove his credentials. Lugh snatched back his hand as all evidence confirmed the Scribe's claims.
"She can't be dead." Lugh stumbled back from the altar, his arms held away from his body, now uselessly holding nothing. The All-Mother's blood soaked his clothing and dripped from his fingertips. The horror-shock numbed him like an unexpected punch as he staggered back from her lifeless body. Lugh walked, then jogged, then ran to the portico that overlooked the hills that gave the Mounds their name. Two great hills should have risen before him as high as the hill where Danu's temple perched. Through magic, the entirety of the expanse of the Mounds existed within the belly of those two hills.
The hills beneath which the Mounds were buried crumbled in on themselves. Deflated as if the hollow caverns beneath lost stability. A cloud of dust and debris billowed out as the hills sunk down, turning instead into a crater.
Lugh gaped at it, dumbfounded. The other fey about him wept and screamed in their terror.
Homes… Family… Friends… Lives… Culture… History…
Everything…
Lost…
Just… Just…
Gone.
Lugh dropped to his knees. The strength drained from his arms and they dropped to his thighs. The lesser fey wept about him, but Lugh could not even reach past the shock to begin to comprehend grief. Pain, though… Pain cut right through him. His heart ached as if the silver dagger had been planted in his chest, rather than in the All-Mother's. His head dropped back as his pain screamed out to the heavens above. The magic bond to the All-Mother, and to the magic of the Mounds, severed like a dirk sliced through it. Lugh clutched at his heart. Everything he was, was linked to the Mounds, to the magic, to his people.
The world had ended. And he, the Champion of the Sidhe, hadn't been able to save it.
Can't wait to see what happens next? Get the full story right now!
Part 6/7 of "End of the World" coming on 11/18/11!
The only way to preserve what might yet survive of the crumbling Mounds was to save Danu. Lugh knew this as certainly as he knew his sole purpose now was to save her, their home and their people. The magic of his teleportation brought Lugh to the grand receiving hall of Danu's temple in the heart of Ireland. Far above the Mounds secreted below the ground.
"Assist me!" Lugh bellowed, his voice echoing into the temple and bringing an immediate rush of lesser fey servants, mostly Brownies and fairies from the look of them. Over the screams and weeping at the sight of their mistress' bloody body, one Scribe urged Lugh to convey the All-Mother to her chamber. The room turned out not to be a bedroom as he anticipated, but a private magicraft workshop. Lugh arranged Danu upon the altar, the knife handle rising like a beacon of death from her chest. The silver would slowly poison her, but if he pulled out the blade unprepared, she would bleed out in seconds.
"The Mounds are crumbling. We must act with swift diligence." Lugh pressed a hand against the wound on her cooling, blood-soaked chest.
The Scribe touched the All-Mother's neck and then met Lugh's eyes. As lesser fey went, Scribes always had the tendency to appear grave in expression. Large eyes that perpetually worried. Thin, short bodies hedging on underfed and spindly. Pasty, green-tinged skin on faces that rarely left the library or archive long enough to have a passing familiarity with sunlight. Even for a Scribe, this one's mournful expression spoke volumes.
Growling, Lugh shouted, "She has lived many thousands of years. No mere blade shall be the death of her! Fetch a healer!"
"There is nothing to be done," the Scribe whispered.
Lugh reached across Danu's body and snatched the Scribe by the front of his pressed white shirt, staining it with blood. "You lie! Bring the healer!"
"I am the healer, Sire ." The Scribe covered Lugh's hand with both of his, not to pry but to let the magic flow from his fingertips and prove his credentials. Lugh snatched back his hand as all evidence confirmed the Scribe's claims.
"She can't be dead." Lugh stumbled back from the altar, his arms held away from his body, now uselessly holding nothing. The All-Mother's blood soaked his clothing and dripped from his fingertips. The horror-shock numbed him like an unexpected punch as he staggered back from her lifeless body. Lugh walked, then jogged, then ran to the portico that overlooked the hills that gave the Mounds their name. Two great hills should have risen before him as high as the hill where Danu's temple perched. Through magic, the entirety of the expanse of the Mounds existed within the belly of those two hills.
The hills beneath which the Mounds were buried crumbled in on themselves. Deflated as if the hollow caverns beneath lost stability. A cloud of dust and debris billowed out as the hills sunk down, turning instead into a crater.
Lugh gaped at it, dumbfounded. The other fey about him wept and screamed in their terror.
Homes… Family… Friends… Lives… Culture… History…
Everything…
Lost…
Just… Just…
Gone.
Lugh dropped to his knees. The strength drained from his arms and they dropped to his thighs. The lesser fey wept about him, but Lugh could not even reach past the shock to begin to comprehend grief. Pain, though… Pain cut right through him. His heart ached as if the silver dagger had been planted in his chest, rather than in the All-Mother's. His head dropped back as his pain screamed out to the heavens above. The magic bond to the All-Mother, and to the magic of the Mounds, severed like a dirk sliced through it. Lugh clutched at his heart. Everything he was, was linked to the Mounds, to the magic, to his people.
The world had ended. And he, the Champion of the Sidhe, hadn't been able to save it.
Can't wait to see what happens next? Get the full story right now!
Part 6/7 of "End of the World" coming on 11/18/11!
November 11, 2011
End of the World 4/7
"No," Lugh exhaled. Utter shock drained the strength right out of him. His spear clattered to the floor with hardly a notice that he'd dropped it. If not for the quake that pitched the building and lurched him forward, he might not ever have broken the paralysis of shock. "Danu…"
Lugh scrambled forward as the very world gave a shudder. The Mounds were crumbling. Dying.
As the All-Mother was dying.
Lugh gathered the tall, thin frame of the Sidhe All-Mother into his arms, rolling her body as he lifted. The handle of a silver dagger gleamed, driven to the decorative hilt in the very heart of Danu. Twice again as ancient as Lugh, Danu's delicate beauty remained unchanged from the innocence of grace she possessed at seventeen. Not even the pallor of bloodlessness could rob her of her Sidhe perfection.
The Creatix of the Mounds… The All-Mother of the Tuatha de Dannan… The people of Danu… The Sidhe… The single unbreakable tie binding together all magic in this fey realm…
Stabbed in the heart.
"No!" Lugh rose to his feet even as the light and illusions beyond the balcony flickered and crashed down from the sky. Her hair and the drape of her long skirt spilled from Lugh's arms and reached the floor. Embracing her limp body tight to him, Lugh rushed to the back of the throne room, to the great crystal globe balanced on a pedestal and throbbing with centuries of magicraft. Lugh kicked the globe, driving it from the pedestal. It crashed down onto the floor and shattered into flakes of enchantment like a pile of snow. The barrier against Glamour and teleportation disintegrated.
Jhaer's strength finally faltered. The precious minutes the Unseelie bought Lugh were spent. A great crack and rumble shook the building as the ceiling of the Mounds gave way to the tons of rocks and earth above. It hit the rotunda, which stalled its descent only a fraction of a second. The Mounds came down with crushing force just as Lugh teleported Danu away.
Can't wait to see what happens next? Get the full story right now!
Part 5/7 of "End of the World" coming on 11/15/11!
Lugh scrambled forward as the very world gave a shudder. The Mounds were crumbling. Dying.
As the All-Mother was dying.
Lugh gathered the tall, thin frame of the Sidhe All-Mother into his arms, rolling her body as he lifted. The handle of a silver dagger gleamed, driven to the decorative hilt in the very heart of Danu. Twice again as ancient as Lugh, Danu's delicate beauty remained unchanged from the innocence of grace she possessed at seventeen. Not even the pallor of bloodlessness could rob her of her Sidhe perfection.
The Creatix of the Mounds… The All-Mother of the Tuatha de Dannan… The people of Danu… The Sidhe… The single unbreakable tie binding together all magic in this fey realm…
Stabbed in the heart.
"No!" Lugh rose to his feet even as the light and illusions beyond the balcony flickered and crashed down from the sky. Her hair and the drape of her long skirt spilled from Lugh's arms and reached the floor. Embracing her limp body tight to him, Lugh rushed to the back of the throne room, to the great crystal globe balanced on a pedestal and throbbing with centuries of magicraft. Lugh kicked the globe, driving it from the pedestal. It crashed down onto the floor and shattered into flakes of enchantment like a pile of snow. The barrier against Glamour and teleportation disintegrated.
Jhaer's strength finally faltered. The precious minutes the Unseelie bought Lugh were spent. A great crack and rumble shook the building as the ceiling of the Mounds gave way to the tons of rocks and earth above. It hit the rotunda, which stalled its descent only a fraction of a second. The Mounds came down with crushing force just as Lugh teleported Danu away.
Can't wait to see what happens next? Get the full story right now!
Part 5/7 of "End of the World" coming on 11/15/11!
November 8, 2011
End of the World 3/7
Lugh cursed the slippery magic that allowed his opponent to evade him. He felt through the soft soles of his boots the slight tremor as the Sidhe traveled beneath him. Lugh rushed to follow. As Jhaer reemerged from the ground, a great tremor rocked the courtyard. A crack climbed the outer wall like a growing vine, reaching ever higher.
"Trying to bring down the entire castle?" he snapped at Jhaer. "Danu is in there!"
The Unseelie stumbled backwards before catching himself; his wide eyes followed the crack in the wall. "Would I knock myself off balance? Open your eyes, Lugh! Something is wrong!"
Lugh rode out the next quake, but just barely. His feet remained under him only by his fey grace. Thunder rolled across the sky and then the sky itself flickered. Or rather the magic that gave the ceiling of the Mounds the appearance of a sky. Fractures like a spider's web shattered the illusion. As long as Lugh lived, the Mounds would have sunlight, so even without the sky and sun illusions, the world was not cast into darkness. But without the magic the great bowl of rock overhead became visible for the first time in Lugh's thousands of years of recollection.
"All-Mother…" he breathed. The dread stabbed him like a knife to the heart. Danu was in peril. And so were the Mounds.
Jhaer raised his hands, fingers curled as if clutching something invisible. The cacophony from the crumbling rock slowed to the rumbling roll of distant thunder. The ceiling caved in elsewhere, the echoes reached them across the expanse of the Mounds, but Jhaer's mastery held the rock above them together. The Unseelie trembled with great personal strain. Sweat beaded along his skin and made his black hair glisten.
"Help Danu! NOW! I can't… hold it up… much longer!"
Cursing the magic that prevented him from teleporting, Lugh found his feet before Jhaer finished speaking. The rock wall Jhaer erected before the castle broke into chunks that slumped without Jhaer's will binding its shape. Lugh bound over the debris and raced into the castle, even as all others scrambled to flee it. He dodged great chunks of falling plaster as it crashed from the buttresses arching high above the rotunda and grand staircase. The rubble shattered on the marble stairs. Plaster dust floated on the air currents like mist as Lugh cut through. Screams echoed from everywhere. Lesser fey scrambled to and fro, but Lugh paid no heed to any of them. He saw no Sidhe. Not one.
Heart pounding, he used the handrail to catapult himself as he raced up the long, curving stairwell to the second level. No one need tell him where to find the All-Mother. All fey connected to the Mounds possessed a sense of her. No guards manned the watch outside the throne chamber. No bodies strewn about to explain their absence. No blood. No dropped weapons. Fear for friends and lovers kindled behind the greater dread that brought him to a sliding stop on the dust-covered floor just inside the chamber.
In the center of the oval chamber… a lone woman curled onto her side on the floor. The fine layer of debris dulled the shine of the blond hair draped about her. Her slender back, decorated with premium fey brocade and lace, faced him. Like a finely crafted statue, she remained stone still. Unalive.
Can't wait to see what happens next? Get the full story right now!
Part 4/7 of "End of the World" coming on 11/11/11!
"Trying to bring down the entire castle?" he snapped at Jhaer. "Danu is in there!"
The Unseelie stumbled backwards before catching himself; his wide eyes followed the crack in the wall. "Would I knock myself off balance? Open your eyes, Lugh! Something is wrong!"
Lugh rode out the next quake, but just barely. His feet remained under him only by his fey grace. Thunder rolled across the sky and then the sky itself flickered. Or rather the magic that gave the ceiling of the Mounds the appearance of a sky. Fractures like a spider's web shattered the illusion. As long as Lugh lived, the Mounds would have sunlight, so even without the sky and sun illusions, the world was not cast into darkness. But without the magic the great bowl of rock overhead became visible for the first time in Lugh's thousands of years of recollection.
"All-Mother…" he breathed. The dread stabbed him like a knife to the heart. Danu was in peril. And so were the Mounds.
Jhaer raised his hands, fingers curled as if clutching something invisible. The cacophony from the crumbling rock slowed to the rumbling roll of distant thunder. The ceiling caved in elsewhere, the echoes reached them across the expanse of the Mounds, but Jhaer's mastery held the rock above them together. The Unseelie trembled with great personal strain. Sweat beaded along his skin and made his black hair glisten.
"Help Danu! NOW! I can't… hold it up… much longer!"
Cursing the magic that prevented him from teleporting, Lugh found his feet before Jhaer finished speaking. The rock wall Jhaer erected before the castle broke into chunks that slumped without Jhaer's will binding its shape. Lugh bound over the debris and raced into the castle, even as all others scrambled to flee it. He dodged great chunks of falling plaster as it crashed from the buttresses arching high above the rotunda and grand staircase. The rubble shattered on the marble stairs. Plaster dust floated on the air currents like mist as Lugh cut through. Screams echoed from everywhere. Lesser fey scrambled to and fro, but Lugh paid no heed to any of them. He saw no Sidhe. Not one.
Heart pounding, he used the handrail to catapult himself as he raced up the long, curving stairwell to the second level. No one need tell him where to find the All-Mother. All fey connected to the Mounds possessed a sense of her. No guards manned the watch outside the throne chamber. No bodies strewn about to explain their absence. No blood. No dropped weapons. Fear for friends and lovers kindled behind the greater dread that brought him to a sliding stop on the dust-covered floor just inside the chamber.
In the center of the oval chamber… a lone woman curled onto her side on the floor. The fine layer of debris dulled the shine of the blond hair draped about her. Her slender back, decorated with premium fey brocade and lace, faced him. Like a finely crafted statue, she remained stone still. Unalive.
Can't wait to see what happens next? Get the full story right now!
Part 4/7 of "End of the World" coming on 11/11/11!
November 4, 2011
End of the World 2/7
A volley of arrows whistled over Lugh's head. A shielding wall of rock flew up before Jhaer, shattering the arrows like twigs. Nothing so mundane could deter the dark Sidhe when the rage claimed him. Lugh dueled with Jhaer hundreds of time over thousands of years. Every time the Seelie and Unseelie crossed swords, Jhaer led the charge. As did Lugh.
This would be the last time, though. Last time as Seelie verse Unseelie, at the very least. After this day, that division would end. The unified Court would rule the Mounds.
"Lugh! Have you been staring at your own magic so long you've blinded yourself?" Jhaer snarled. The rock shield dissipated into a cloud of dust and crumbled away as though cast aside with the contempt poisoning the Unseelie. He would rend Lugh just as viciously if he had blood instead of earth power. A tremble rippled through the ground and Lugh's nimble feet expected to evade a grasping fist of earth clutching at his ankles.
Those familiar tactics failed to manifest. Instead the ground gave up a guttural rumbling. The very earth before the castle heaved upward in a sheer rock wall that shot skyward and blocked the fey of Lugh's regiment.
It mattered not. The Champion could fend off the Elite long enough for the Unseelie King and Queen to submit their magics to the greater Seelie, or rather the unified, Court.
Jhaer snapped at him, conviction and venom cutting in equal measure. "This must stop! Before it's too late!"
Lugh raised his hands and with them he brought up a shield of fire in front of Jhaer. "Halt, Elite! You shall not violate the Seelie Court. Not this day of all days!" Lugh charged toward the fire between them, intent on getting his body and his spear between the Elite and the castle. "Stand down! I shall not permit your passage!"
In the Mounds, secrecy was near to impossible. Hardly a fey in the Mounds didn't know what was to occur. Many he'd expected to protest or to charge the gates had yet to reveal themselves. At this late hour the ceremony must be nearing completion. No one, not even the very head of the Unseelie Elite, could not stop it now. Nor would Lugh allow Jhaer to mar the day with his rampage.
"One Court, Sidhe! We can be brothers. This feud can end! It should end!" Even as he said this, he prepared to fight.
"Light and dark can not merge. One will always consume the other. You know this! Yet the arrogant Seelie's hunger for power would rather destroy everything than have balance!" Jhaer sank into the ground that enveloped and then closed over him like quicksand.
Can't wait to see what happens next? Get the full story right now!
Part 3/7 of "End of the World" coming on 11/8/11!
This would be the last time, though. Last time as Seelie verse Unseelie, at the very least. After this day, that division would end. The unified Court would rule the Mounds.
"Lugh! Have you been staring at your own magic so long you've blinded yourself?" Jhaer snarled. The rock shield dissipated into a cloud of dust and crumbled away as though cast aside with the contempt poisoning the Unseelie. He would rend Lugh just as viciously if he had blood instead of earth power. A tremble rippled through the ground and Lugh's nimble feet expected to evade a grasping fist of earth clutching at his ankles.
Those familiar tactics failed to manifest. Instead the ground gave up a guttural rumbling. The very earth before the castle heaved upward in a sheer rock wall that shot skyward and blocked the fey of Lugh's regiment.
It mattered not. The Champion could fend off the Elite long enough for the Unseelie King and Queen to submit their magics to the greater Seelie, or rather the unified, Court.
Jhaer snapped at him, conviction and venom cutting in equal measure. "This must stop! Before it's too late!"
Lugh raised his hands and with them he brought up a shield of fire in front of Jhaer. "Halt, Elite! You shall not violate the Seelie Court. Not this day of all days!" Lugh charged toward the fire between them, intent on getting his body and his spear between the Elite and the castle. "Stand down! I shall not permit your passage!"
In the Mounds, secrecy was near to impossible. Hardly a fey in the Mounds didn't know what was to occur. Many he'd expected to protest or to charge the gates had yet to reveal themselves. At this late hour the ceremony must be nearing completion. No one, not even the very head of the Unseelie Elite, could not stop it now. Nor would Lugh allow Jhaer to mar the day with his rampage.
"One Court, Sidhe! We can be brothers. This feud can end! It should end!" Even as he said this, he prepared to fight.
"Light and dark can not merge. One will always consume the other. You know this! Yet the arrogant Seelie's hunger for power would rather destroy everything than have balance!" Jhaer sank into the ground that enveloped and then closed over him like quicksand.
Can't wait to see what happens next? Get the full story right now!
Part 3/7 of "End of the World" coming on 11/8/11!
October 29, 2011
End of the World segment 1/7
by S. A. Archer
Chapter One
"The world as we have known it ends this day." The warriors, men and women both, needed to hear him speak. The grit and determination in his voice carried as much emphasis as the words themselves. Many cut uncertain glances his way, the deep-seated beliefs ground into them over the centuries nearly as much a part of them as their skin and their magic. Lugh patrolled the top of the castle wall, watching the courtyard below. The elaborate breastplate strapped to him served more as a status symbol than actual protection, even with the magicraft worked into the polished leather. He was the Champion of the Sidhe, even for the Sidhe who would sooner slit his throat than call him their champion. It mattered not. He protected his people regardless, most especially from themselves.
The Sidhe and lesser fey warriors of the Seelie Court spaced themselves at intervals of less than a full arm span. Wood elves, dwarves, selkies, and even a stout-hearted fairy held the line for this final watch, bows, spears, and magic at the ready. Although the technology-embracing world beyond the Mounds long ago abandoned the grace of the bow for guns and other modern weaponry, the long-lived fey of the Mounds shunned such graceless devices.
"Keep a sharp eye on the barrier." The canopy of magic reached just beyond the courtyard wall, preventing Glamour or teleportation within the castle grounds. If any fey dreamed to raid the stronghold of the Seelie Court this day, they faced more than simply this entire cadre of fey warriors. They would have to best the Champion of the Sidhe, a near impossible task. For greater than a thousand years, only a handful had ever crossed purposes with Lugh and bested him. A few of these skilled warriors manned the line with Lugh now. Others, such as the greatest of the Unseelie guard, had yet to breach the courtyard threshold. His heart harbored no doubts that at least one would challenge Lugh's mettle and resolve.
Lugh cast a proprietary glance across the outer wall to the fey town in the protective shadow of the castle. The hills rolled into the distance. The internal measure of the Mounds roughly equated to Ireland in width and length. Lugh knew every tree, every step of every path. Twice he held the Seelie crown. Since he was a much younger Sidhe, Lugh held the mantle of Champion. He earned it. The very sunlight in the sky was his gift to the Mounds. The Celts once worshipped Lugh as the god of the sun, for in that lay the aspect of Lugh's unique magic. All the life that grew and prospered in the Mounds did so by the very power of his love for this place and these fey. He would defend it, and them, until his final breath.
With a great explosion of shattering wood, a boulder crashed though the courtyard gate. No such boulder had been transported though the city beyond the castle. This one had been ripped from the ground and flung with a magic only one Sidhe possessed.
"Jhaer!" Lugh growled, "Bring me your rage, Elite." With his spear, Lugh pole-vaulted the low parapet and dropped the twenty feet into the courtyard. Using the grace of the fey, he hit and rolled, then came back up to his feet in a charge for the Unseelie intruder.
Can't wait to see what happens next? Get the full story right now!
Part 2/7 of "End of the World" coming on 11/4/11!
Chapter One
"The world as we have known it ends this day." The warriors, men and women both, needed to hear him speak. The grit and determination in his voice carried as much emphasis as the words themselves. Many cut uncertain glances his way, the deep-seated beliefs ground into them over the centuries nearly as much a part of them as their skin and their magic. Lugh patrolled the top of the castle wall, watching the courtyard below. The elaborate breastplate strapped to him served more as a status symbol than actual protection, even with the magicraft worked into the polished leather. He was the Champion of the Sidhe, even for the Sidhe who would sooner slit his throat than call him their champion. It mattered not. He protected his people regardless, most especially from themselves.
The Sidhe and lesser fey warriors of the Seelie Court spaced themselves at intervals of less than a full arm span. Wood elves, dwarves, selkies, and even a stout-hearted fairy held the line for this final watch, bows, spears, and magic at the ready. Although the technology-embracing world beyond the Mounds long ago abandoned the grace of the bow for guns and other modern weaponry, the long-lived fey of the Mounds shunned such graceless devices.
"Keep a sharp eye on the barrier." The canopy of magic reached just beyond the courtyard wall, preventing Glamour or teleportation within the castle grounds. If any fey dreamed to raid the stronghold of the Seelie Court this day, they faced more than simply this entire cadre of fey warriors. They would have to best the Champion of the Sidhe, a near impossible task. For greater than a thousand years, only a handful had ever crossed purposes with Lugh and bested him. A few of these skilled warriors manned the line with Lugh now. Others, such as the greatest of the Unseelie guard, had yet to breach the courtyard threshold. His heart harbored no doubts that at least one would challenge Lugh's mettle and resolve.
Lugh cast a proprietary glance across the outer wall to the fey town in the protective shadow of the castle. The hills rolled into the distance. The internal measure of the Mounds roughly equated to Ireland in width and length. Lugh knew every tree, every step of every path. Twice he held the Seelie crown. Since he was a much younger Sidhe, Lugh held the mantle of Champion. He earned it. The very sunlight in the sky was his gift to the Mounds. The Celts once worshipped Lugh as the god of the sun, for in that lay the aspect of Lugh's unique magic. All the life that grew and prospered in the Mounds did so by the very power of his love for this place and these fey. He would defend it, and them, until his final breath.
With a great explosion of shattering wood, a boulder crashed though the courtyard gate. No such boulder had been transported though the city beyond the castle. This one had been ripped from the ground and flung with a magic only one Sidhe possessed.
"Jhaer!" Lugh growled, "Bring me your rage, Elite." With his spear, Lugh pole-vaulted the low parapet and dropped the twenty feet into the courtyard. Using the grace of the fey, he hit and rolled, then came back up to his feet in a charge for the Unseelie intruder.
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Part 2/7 of "End of the World" coming on 11/4/11!
October 16, 2011
Countdown to Launch
Things are falling into place and we are on track to launch by November 1st. Putting the final touches on the website and setting up the mailing list this week. The initial stories in the series are going to be converted into ebooks this weekend. I've seen the covers and they are awesome! I can't wait to finally share The Sidhe with everyone.
Watch this blog for free fiction! Segments will be posted weekly.
Watch this blog for free fiction! Segments will be posted weekly.
October 2, 2011
Concerning Fey
(This article is an excerpt from the Chronicles of the Seelie and written by Lugh, Champion of the Sidhe and former King of the Seelie Court. The opinions expressed in this article do not necessarily reflect the views of all Sidhe, in particular the Unseelie.)
Concerning Fey
There has been little accurate information written about the various races of fey that have survived to present times. I believe this is partly because most fey don't feel inclined to create a written record which might be used to against them, and partly because fey are playful and often find a near truth… or a half truth… or a could-be truth… close enough to truth to present it as such.
There are, in fact, innumerable races of fey. The noble elves, or Sidhe, are elfin in appearance and usually tall and beautiful. Many of the Celtic gods and goddess that the humans worshiped are, in fact, not deities but Sidhe. The Sidhe's magic is strong and usually narrow in focus. Such that a Sidhe whose focus is equine in nature might be able to speak with horses and take the shape of a horse.
One magic in common with all Sidhe is the Sidhe Touch. Among the Sidhe the magic of two or more can co-mingle. It is a very intimate communion and is soothing and bonding to the Sidhe. Skin contact is required for the Touch to pass from a Sidhe to another individual. While other races of fey can not duplicate the Touch, they can experience the Touch given to them by a Sidhe without any ill-effects. The Sidhe Touch is extremely addictive to humans, and should be avoided. A human who is addicted to the Touch will forever long for the Touch, and without benefit of regular Touch can even die from the longing of it. Human cultures who have had regular Sidhe contact know of the Touch, and regard it as a curse. Less scrupulous Sidhe have even used the Touch to enslave humans to their will.
All other races of fey are known as 'lesser fey,' at least to the aristocratic Sidhe. The lesser fey include a variety of so called 'fantasy' races. This would include other races of elves, pixies, fairies, red caps, changelings, goblins, incubus, succubus, mermaids, ect. Creatures such as dragons and unicorns have fey blood and can also be classified as fey.
Among the fey there tends to be two general alignments. The Sidhe call these the two courts. There is the Seelie court and the Unseelie court. The Seelie are, for the most part, lawful in nature. They have clear morals of what is right and wrong, and will side most often on what is right. The Seelie align themselves with the lighter side of magic. The Unseelie are more likely to consider how they can personally benefit before taking a course of action. The Unseelie often align themselves with the darker side of magic.
All fey are highly adept with Glamour. Glamour is a type of magic that can be used to hide in plain sight. With Glamour a fey can appear as something he or she is not, such as human. It can also be used to completely hide from sight, seeming to melt into the shadows. Those with the eyes to see magic may be able to see partially or completely through the Glamour.
Most fey also possess at least a limited ability to teleport. A fey's teleportation range varies based on age, experience and strength of magic.
Concerning Fey
There has been little accurate information written about the various races of fey that have survived to present times. I believe this is partly because most fey don't feel inclined to create a written record which might be used to against them, and partly because fey are playful and often find a near truth… or a half truth… or a could-be truth… close enough to truth to present it as such.
There are, in fact, innumerable races of fey. The noble elves, or Sidhe, are elfin in appearance and usually tall and beautiful. Many of the Celtic gods and goddess that the humans worshiped are, in fact, not deities but Sidhe. The Sidhe's magic is strong and usually narrow in focus. Such that a Sidhe whose focus is equine in nature might be able to speak with horses and take the shape of a horse.
One magic in common with all Sidhe is the Sidhe Touch. Among the Sidhe the magic of two or more can co-mingle. It is a very intimate communion and is soothing and bonding to the Sidhe. Skin contact is required for the Touch to pass from a Sidhe to another individual. While other races of fey can not duplicate the Touch, they can experience the Touch given to them by a Sidhe without any ill-effects. The Sidhe Touch is extremely addictive to humans, and should be avoided. A human who is addicted to the Touch will forever long for the Touch, and without benefit of regular Touch can even die from the longing of it. Human cultures who have had regular Sidhe contact know of the Touch, and regard it as a curse. Less scrupulous Sidhe have even used the Touch to enslave humans to their will.
All other races of fey are known as 'lesser fey,' at least to the aristocratic Sidhe. The lesser fey include a variety of so called 'fantasy' races. This would include other races of elves, pixies, fairies, red caps, changelings, goblins, incubus, succubus, mermaids, ect. Creatures such as dragons and unicorns have fey blood and can also be classified as fey.
Among the fey there tends to be two general alignments. The Sidhe call these the two courts. There is the Seelie court and the Unseelie court. The Seelie are, for the most part, lawful in nature. They have clear morals of what is right and wrong, and will side most often on what is right. The Seelie align themselves with the lighter side of magic. The Unseelie are more likely to consider how they can personally benefit before taking a course of action. The Unseelie often align themselves with the darker side of magic.
All fey are highly adept with Glamour. Glamour is a type of magic that can be used to hide in plain sight. With Glamour a fey can appear as something he or she is not, such as human. It can also be used to completely hide from sight, seeming to melt into the shadows. Those with the eyes to see magic may be able to see partially or completely through the Glamour.
Most fey also possess at least a limited ability to teleport. A fey's teleportation range varies based on age, experience and strength of magic.
