Dear Readers,
It occurs to me that since so many people loved the excerpt of book 2, I should probably post an excerpt of book 1, THE LIGHT WHO SHINES. (smile)
I do have to give you a bit of warning. This excerpt contains graphic violence and a torturous death. So
turn back now if you can't handle a taste of dark fantasy. The book in its entirety contains some very
steamy sex scenes, though this excerpt does not. The dark scenes of the book are well balanced by magic, whimsy,
love, and humor.
This excerpt is the entire Prologue which takes place 2000 years before the rest of the story. It begins in Year 1 of the Red Ages. The age was named thus because it's the year that Vampires were first created and the time that followed was so bloody, it's said
the rivers ran crimson and the ground was cloaked in scarlet. This Prologue is the story of Shaina, the wife of the first Vampire.
So here goes!
The Light Who Shines
Book 1 of the Bluebell Kildare Series
Prologue
Shaina
Winter, Year 1, Red Ages
I wake to the sound of pounding on the door and Mor’s voice yelling, “Shaina. Shaina.”
Sorcha wakes up crying as I rush to open the door. A bloodcurdling scream tears through the night, destroying any illusions of a peaceful return to slumber. I swing open the door with trembling hands and see anguish in Mor’s eyes. The words that tumble from her mouth bring to the fore all the fears I’d been trying to suppress this winter.
“Shaina, Conor was found dead, killed by the bloodsuckers.
Grainne and Aongus are calling you a Witch and gathering the town folks to burn
you as one. Quick! We must run.”
I start gathering my things together, but Mor yells, “There
is no time. Grab the bairn. We must go now!”
Sorcha is wailing now. Tears streak her little cheeks as she
grips her blanket tightly in tiny fists. I grab my plaid and wrap it around us
both as I follow Mor outside.
“You must quiet her,” Mor whispers.
I try to comfort Sorcha in a hushed voice. “Shh, Sorcha, you
must be quiet. Shhhh.”
Sorcha pays no heed and cries all the louder as she clutches
me with her little fingers.
I hear the voices of the villagers coming now, yelling and
screaming, “Burn the Witch. It was her husband who brought this upon us.”
Aongus’ voice rises above the rest. “Let her die too. Why
should she be spared?”
Mor leads me past the blacksmith’s shop, behind Fergus’
cottage, toward the forest. I see their torches at my cottage now. A voice
yells, “They’re gone,” and the villagers continue to chant, “Burn the Witch.
Burn the Witch.”
I cast through my mind wildly now, seeking a remembrance of
a place to hide. My mind comes up empty, just as it did all winter when I feared
a night such as this would come. I should have braved the cold and gone to the
sea caves where the dragon tribe dwells despite the perilous winter journey.
Just then, Sorcha lets out a loud bawl, and I hear Grainne
yell, “She’s over there.”
Mor and I run around Fergus’ cottage and make for the tree
line. The throng is following us quickly with the younger men in the lead. The
woods are just up ahead—if only we could lose them in the deep of the trees. If
only Sorcha would stop crying.
We reach heavy brush, and I hear the thunder of feet behind
me. Just at the edge of the woods, my foot catches on a tree root and I tumble
to the ground. As I land on the hard dirt, I twist to protect Sorcha from being
crushed by my weight, and pain shoots up my leg. Fear strikes my heart as I
realize I’ve a choice to make.
“Mor,” I yell.
Mor glances over her shoulder and sees me on the ground. I
try to stand, but my knee gives way. I see the torches through the dark coming
swiftly closer.
“Mor, take Sorcha. It is too late. Run. Keep her safe.”
Mor stands there, petrified. She looks at me, she looks at
the woods in front of her, and she looks at the torches that are almost upon
us. I thrust Sorcha out while warm, wet tears stream down my cheeks and fall unheeded
onto the snow. “Take the bairn! It’s me they want.”
Mor grabs Sorcha and my arms, bereft of their lovely burden,
fall uselessly at my sides. I stare hungrily after Sorcha for one last moment,
and just as Mor and Sorcha disappear in the dark of the woods, the torches are
upon me. First the young men arrive, their faces ugly with rage. I know each of
them, grew up with them, broke bread with them, bartered with them, sang with
them, but it matters not. It’s fear that drives them this night, and no
proclamations of innocence or fond memories will help me now.
Niall grabs my arms and drags me into the throng. I try to
gain footing, but my right leg will bear no weight. Tadgh holds my other arm,
and together they pull me to the center of town. The mob crowds around, cursing
me, throwing sticks at me as I’m roughly tied to a large ash tree. The faces of
my friends and neighbors swirl around me in angry confusion with rays of
moonlight shining on a gaunt cheek here and a slashing brow there. The bindings
are pulled tight, cutting into my wrists and ankles as I struggle, but I know
it’s useless. It’s been useless since Torloch made his pact with the devil’s
handmaiden, Lilith. It’s been useless since Torloch took my wee baby boy and
returned home with his blood on his hands. It’s been useless since Torloch
became a bloodsucking monster and spread his disease through the village.
I look out at the faces of the crowd, and I see anger and
fear. I see despair. It’s a mercy they’ve let me live this long. I curse myself
again for not leaving earlier despite the biting cold of winter. I hear one
voice among the bloodthirsty yell, “Give her a Witch’s Trial.”
Another voice responds, “We’ll give her a trial of fire. If
she’s innocent, let her be saved.”
Bundles of dry oak twigs and sticks are piled at my feet. Oak,
the tree of strength. I wonder if the oak will give me strength in my last
moments of life. I think of Sorcha, the twin of my poor baby boy. I hope only
that Mor got her away safely and at least one of our family will be spared.
Grainne walks right up to me and spits in my face. “You
filthy Witch,” she snarls. “Your monster husband and his kind killed my son. Shredded
his neck.” Tears run down her dirt-smudged face. “We are going to watch you
burn for what you’ve done.”
Una, who lost her husband to Torloch, grabs a torch and sets
the wood at my feet on fire. The firelight reflects off her savage face, and I
see months of grief and seething anger in the depths of her wild eyes. There is
no mercy here.
I feel the heat rising, and it burns. I look at their faces,
and even through my fear, I feel their sorrow and rage. I feel it in me as
well. That has always been my curse: to feel others as myself. Their rage now
feeds mine. The flames lick my ankles, and smoke fills my eyes.
I look up at the night sky and my fury overflows. Months of
rage at Torloch, who took the life of our son to try to save himself. But most
of all I rage at Lilith, who made him an empty promise and turned him into a
monster for the price of our child. Tears stream down my face as I recall my
own black pit of grief at losing my lovely little boy. I feel the grief and
pain of everyone on this dark night.
I smell the smoke from the ash tree I am tied to mingling
with the oak kindling about my body. My childhood learnings flit through my
mind even in my last hour. While oak gives strength, ash is the bridge between Earth
and other worlds. Good. Let it make a bridge to the Plane of Fire for me so
that I might reach Lilith and pay her back in kind.
I shout to the blackness of the sky above. I call to the
dark with all the rage of my soul. “Lilith, I call on you to hear me. By my
blood, you will be destroyed. A light will come. A light that shines through
your evil. A light that calls you to answer for your deeds. A light that binds
you as I am bound and burns you as I burn. A light that rips you asunder and
destroys your darkness.”
The pain is so great. The flames sear my legs. I can’t help
but scream and convulse, though I know there is no escape. I writhe, trying to
get away from the fire, but it just grows and grows as my calves blister and
melt. A part of my mind wishes the fire were higher so this pain would end more
quickly. The only escape now is death, and it fast approaches. The smoke is so
heavy I cough as I scream. The fire has reached my waist now, and it envelops
me in its excruciating embrace. I see the horrific faces of the mob, distorted
and cast in red from the fire that consumes me.
I scream with all the strength I have, willing my voice to
carry through the between spaces. “Lilith, hear me. I call to you. By my blood,
you will pay for what you have done.” I cough and hack, unable to get a breath
of air. I thrash my head as the tongues of fire lick ever higher, melting my
flesh, binding me to the holy ash tree as though we are one. The pain is so
great now that I know nothing but the feel of it engulfing me. It seems to be
all that was before me and all that will ever come after. I’m being eaten alive
by the ravenous fire. The agony and the rage are the whole of who I am now.
I think one last thought, unable to even catch enough breath to scream it, unable even to work my mouth to speak it as the flames lick my chin. My dying thought sears into my soul and lifts with me to the Plane of Light. “Lilith, by my blood you will be destroyed!”
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Available Now!
If you enjoyed that excerpt, you can get entire book,
The Light Who Shines on Kindle here:
amzn.to/1zdMqub It's also available on Audible and in print either on Amazon or through your local book stores.
Coming Soon!
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The Light Who Binds is released.
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Please do comment and let me know how you liked it.
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