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The Bridge to Magic by Alex Thornbury - Deck the Halls with Books Holiday Extravaganza

Here in Australia we celebrate Christmas in the summer. Forsomeone who was raised in the northern hemisphere, I still cannot get my headaround that strangeness. Another interesting fact of the Aussie festive seasonis that our favourite and traditional desert for Christmas is the pavlova. Thetradition is said to have started in the 1920s when the famed ballet dancervisited Australia and New-Zealand and one ingenious hotel pastry chef createdthe desert in her honour.

There are as many recipes for this dish as there areAussies. Amongst them, my absolute favourite is the Cherry and Coconut Pavlova.For us here, who walk upside down relative to our Northern cousins, December isthe season for fresh cherries down in the cool south, and coconuts up in thehot northern tropics. So what better way to celebrate turning the seasons ontheir heads than by combining cherries and coconuts into a tropical Christmasdessert? This is what I will be making this Christmas inthe sweltering heat of the summer.

The credit for this recipe must go to www.delicious.com.au.

Ingredients

6 egg whites

1/2 tsp cream of tartar

1 1/2 cups (330g) caster sugar

2 tbs cornflour

1 tsp white vinegar

1/3 cup (30g) desiccated coconut

300g jar good-quality cherry jam, room temperature, stirred to loosen

Fresh cherries & baby mint leaves, to serve

Coconut cream

500g sour cream

100g thickened cream

100g coconut cream (cream taken from the top of the can. Reserve remaining cream for another use)

80g icing sugar mixture

2 tbs Malibu or coconut essence

Method

1. Preheat the oven to 160°C. Draw a rough 18cm x 33cmrectangle on a piece of baking paper and use to line a large greased oven tray.

2. Place egg whites and cream of tartar in a stand mixerfitted with the whisk attachment and whisk on medium speed to soft peaks. Withthe motor running, add 1 tbs sugar every 30 seconds and continue whisking untilwell incorporated. Whisk for a further 5 minutes or until the mixture is thickand glossy and the sugar has dissolved.

3. Add the cornflour and whisk until combined, then whisk inthe white vinegar. Fold through coconut. Place the meringue into the centre ofthe rectangle and, using a palette knife, spread the meringue into the shape ofthe rectangle with waves and swirls on top.

4. Reduce oven temperature to 100°C. Bake the pavlova for 1hour 20 minutes to 1 hour 30 minutes or until dry to touch. Turn off the ovenand let cool in the oven overnight or until cooled completely.

5. For the coconut cream, whisk the creams and sugar in astand mixer to soft peaks, then fold in the coconut liquor. Refrigerate untilready to use.

6. Place meringue on a serving platter and spread with cream mixture.Drizzle with loosened jam and scatter with extra fresh cherries and mint leavesto serve.

The Bridge to MagicThe Sundered Web Book OneAlex Thornbury
Genre: FantasyPublisher: Shadow Lore PublishingDate of Publication: 21st February 2023ISBN: 978-0-6454970-0-7ASIN: B0B9GCXY5KNumber of pages: 369Word Count: 105,000Cover Artist: Alejandro Colucci
Tagline: When only the wrong paths remain, do you walk or get left behind?
Book Description:
An award-winning debut for lovers of traditional fantasy and the readers who crave the dark, disturbing and original.
Men thought they had won the war against magic, when a demi-god had sundered their realm and banished magic and its keepers to the deadlands. But then another terror was born. Nothing can survive the approaching Blight. Terren, the last refuge of mankind, now stands alone in its path. Only the bridge across the great chasm offers any hope of escape... for some.
Elika has long feared the bridge to the Deadlands. It had taken her parents, and the lives of more poor fools than she could count. What's there for them anyway on the other side but more suffering and death? Though the gods had abandoned them, the king and his priests will stop the Blight. They just need to destroy every echo of magic, the source of the Blight. Then she discovers that the biggest echo of magic is hiding inside her, and through her it seeks to enact the will of its own.
Accused of being a mage, she is hunted and hated. Many doubt her loyalties. Her gang turns against her. The one man she thought she could trust and love, abandons her. Everything she knew about her past shatters, as long-buried secrets about her true birth emerge. Worse still, she may not even be human. She must race to find a way to purge herself from magic's hold. But as time runs out for the city and her magic only grows in power, can she sacrifice herself to save the last of humanity and all that she loves?

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Therewas a time before the bridge was forged, but those stories had been mostlyforgotten. The dark history of that bygone age was now buried in the archivesof the priests. Only the echoes of it remained on the tongues of minstrels anddrunks. Elika had heard them all and each tale seemed more terrible andunimaginable than the other.

Thosewere dismal times of endless wars—men against magic, magic against men. Thetime when even the storms and rains were at the mercy of magic and its ficklemoods. It might snow in the summer, or the hot winds might carry sand uponthem, burying entire cities. Honest travelers feared to ride through theforest, lest the trees attacked them. A farmer might wake up to find his riverflowing the wrong way or dried up altogether. Those days were gone and mighthave been forgotten, but for this stark reminder before Elika’s eyes.

Andwho had not stood before the dark bridge in their last moments, facing thatchoice they all must one day make?

Likethat hoary, old codger in the ale-stained uniform of the city’s Blue Guard whohad stood before the bridge for nigh on an hour; unsteady on his legs, his sourbreath steaming in the crisp, winter night, drinking deeply of the cheap gin,which was as likely to kill him by morning as what he now faced. He took a longswig out of his bottle as he braced himself for the unknown fate ahead.

Elikasat huddled in the doorway of an abandoned house, watching him, needing to knowwhether he would reach the other side or die crossing. Her ears filled with thehowling winds rising from the great chasm, and she did not need to imagine whathe was thinking, staring as he did at the monstrous bridge and the lifelessbank beyond, for she was thinking the same—surely it is better than whatremains at our back. Better than what approaches.

Sheclutched the cloak tighter around herself against the biting gust of windtrying to rip it from her. She had scavenged the woolen cloak some days agofrom a dead beggar, and it still smelled of his mustiness. She pulled up herknees to her chest and clamped her icy hands under her arms.

Thestone wall was cold at her back. Her breath steamed. She waited and watched theold guard take another wobbly step toward the bridge, seeking courage in hisgin-dulled mind. He took another gulp, stared at the empty bottle in surprise,then threw it aside with a foul curse. The bottle hit the frozen ground androlled off the edge of their world into the chasm, to fall for eternity in thatendless darkness.