FAERIE CHRONICLES BOXED SET IS FREE ON KINDLE UNLIMITED
EXCERPTS
A gentle breeze sighed,
undulating the meadow grass lazily and whispering past the forlorn figure
slumped on the tree trunk, hands clasped tightly in his lap. Thomas, a forest
leprechaun, released a long melancholy breath between his cracked, dry lips. A
single plump tear meandered down his stubbled cheek.
The sun sent bright
shafts of light through the pine boughs and around the wooden pedestal upon
which the morose figure resided. Ignoring the dancing beams, the leprechaun
pulled a shuddered breath into his lungs and stared at a spot in front of the
stump where a crumpled daisy chain necklace lay withering in the warmth of the
afternoon. Another plump tear snaked down his unshaven face.
In the distance, a lone
figure scuffed up the lane, which crossed in front of the tree stump. Thomas
paid no heed to the approaching form, pulling a thin silver flask from inside
his rumpled vest. He blindly opened the lid, placed the opened top to his lips
and pulled a deep draught from the container. Refitting the cap to the top, he
slipped the silver spirit holder back into his vest. His next shuddered breath
was interrupted with a hiccup.
The figure on the road
drew closer. Thomas raised his head and squinted his eyes. Was she coming back?
He hiccupped and straightened up. Maybe she had been teasing him when she ran
away and now she realized how much he cared for her. His eyes brightened and a
smile began to touch his lips.
The figure came around
the bend and toward him. The last he'd seen her, she was wearing a diaphanous,
thin dress. Had she changed? The form nearing him was clad in leather breeches,
a braided leather tunic, and knee-high, soft leather boots. A sword blade
strapped to the figure's back flashed in the sunlight. Was Cary so angry she
meant to cut him in little pieces? His heart began to pound in his chest and
inside his mouth his tongue stuck to the roof.
The figure stopped two
lengths from him and raised a hand to shade its eyes from the brightness of the
day.
Thomas realized he was
shaking. This was it…his life was over. He hung his head.
"Thomas?"
The voice was familiar
but it didn't sound like Cary. If it wasn't her…
The
Lending Library
Faeries try to fit into the human world
when the forest where they make their home is destroyed by a mysterious enemy.
EXCERPTS
Chapter One
Ailidh wobbled
precariously on her high heels.
Kayne smirked.
"Having problems, dear?"
"Shut
up!" she snapped. "I need to practice this until I get it right. We
don’t really have many options left open to us, Kayne. You had better practice,
too."
He stopped and
steadied himself on the railing of the porch. He wriggled his feet out of the
closed leather shoes that encased them.
"I don’t
know why you insist we wear these ridiculous articles of clothing. This
long-sleeved shirt cuts off the circulation to my hands not to mention the lack
of space for my wings and these long pants chap my legs.
"Worst of
all, are these horrendous leather shoes. They pinch and make my feet swell. Why
do we have to go through all of this? I don’t understand." Kayne grumbled.
Ailidh sighed
and slowly, patiently explained to
him, once again, why they were practicing.
"Remember
last Wednesday when Keegan and Connal lost their dwelling? The sound of their
tree crashing to the ground was deafening. The Others are moving out more and
more. We will lose our home if we don’t act first. Now, put your shoes back on
and walk for just five more minutes."
Kayne wrestled
his shirt off and threw it to the porch’s deck. He pulled the long pants off
his body and left them in a heap next to the shirt. Bending forward, he touched
his toes gingerly as he gradually unfurled his lacey wings. Slowly, he pulled
himself to an upright position. Shoulders back, wings completely expanded, he
lifted his 18-inch form to its full height and looked at Ailidh defiantly.
"I don’t
need to fit into the Others’ world. They need to adjust themselves to my world
and leave us alone."
Ailidh,
teetering, grabbed the lower railing of the porch and shook her head.
"Kayne,
most of the Others don’t even know we exist. How can they adjust to something
they don’t even believe?"
"They
adjust to animals, don’t they?"
"The
animals chose to be seen. We did not. Remember? Our great, great grandfathers
took a vote and decided we would endanger ourselves more if we continued to be
visible to the Others. At that time, they didn’t have all the machinery they
have now. They moved into our lands at a slower pace. Now, put on the clothes
and try to adjust."
"No."
Kayne kicked at the clothing on the porch. "I’m going to get a magazine
and a cup of coffee. You can stand here and practice day and night for all I
care."
He turned on
his heels and lifted himself off the ground with his delicate appendages. He
lazily winged his way into the open window of the building marked Lending Library.
Hovering until
he landed on the balls of his feet, he folded the wings tight to his torso and
walked to the corner of the building signed Coffee Shop. He sat in a small
chair snugged close to the matching table. Sliding the Newsweek someone had
tossed on the table toward him, he flipped through the pages. Minimized for
easier handling, the magazine was still large enough to require both of his
hands to turn the pages. A diminutive nymph in a waitress uniform with a
"Chrissy" nametag took his order for a latte. Ten minutes later, she
returned with the steaming liquid in a cup.
"Thanks,
Chrissy." Kayne picked up the cup carefully and took a sip.
"No
problem, Kayne," she had a surprisingly deep voice for a nymph.
"Where’s Ailidh?"
Kayne jerked a
thumb over his shoulder toward the front porch.
"Practicing,"
he grunted.
"Oh,"
Chrissy mopped the table next to Kayne’s with a wet rag then flew daintily to
the kitchen with the dirty cups and saucers she’d picked up. One of the
resident dryads of the valley, Chrissy was living in the tree behind the
Lending Library. Her home across the meadow had been one of the first
destroyed.
Ailidh is right. Kayne frowned at the silent admission. The Others
were invading his world with frightening, swift, uncaring swaths into the
forestlands. Soon there wouldn’t be an Ancient tree left. While, at a glance,
their movements seemed random, even careless, Kayne had noted a pattern, albeit
haphazard, to their actions. Months earlier he’d watched from a safe distance
as the huge screeching yellow machines ripped up his ancient wood friends and
squashed their bodies beneath armored tracks. He could never be sure whether
the squealing had been the old trees or the vicious yellow machines. After the
first occasion of watching as they destroyed a sea of Ancients, Kayne had left
on shaky wings and flown home. Ailidh was furious at him, thinking he’d been
with his friends drinking honeysuckle wine. He couldn’t stop throwing up long enough
to tell her what he’d seen.
Defying
the Odds
The night elves on the hill
aren't happy without their magic. They concoct a plan to punish those who were
involved in the act that rendered them almost human. Meanwhile, Uther, the
rogue night elf, has returned to woo the Librarian to be his eternal mate.
EXCERPT
In a meadow east of Eugene,
Oregon
Bram ambled up the roughly
hewn stairs to the willow lounge chair located at the front of his home. He
pulled the scrimshawed pipe from his pocket and filled the bowl with his
favorite blend of black cherry tobacco. The paced routine of loading the ivory
bowl with fragrant leaves and tamping them firmly into place was one of his
favorite after dinner rituals. Withdrawing a matchstick from the inner pocket
of his vest, he struck the sulfured end against a river rock he'd placed on the
root of the towering oak that served as his home.
The fading evening sky
showered the mountains in hues of gold and red. Pushing away the light, a
blanket of dark blue velvet sprinkled with luminous star points soon prevailed.
Bram puffed smoke rings at the darkening heavens.
"Evenin'." A scruffy
black and tan terrier mix meandered up and, after circling three times, lay
next to the chubby gnome.
"Evening, Silas. How's
the family?"
"Well, thank you. Daisy
announced we're expecting--again."
Bram chuckled into his beard.
"Congratulations."
"Humph. I'll be glad when
we're both too old to care. I came over to ask if there are any jobs in sight.
I'll need to be working as much as I can now."
It seemed he got one batch of
kids out of the house and another was on the way.
Silence stretched between the
business partners. Bram pulled deep draughts on his pipe, blowing the smoke
away from his friend. His eyes were drawn to the large block of light spilling
from the picture window of the behemoth on the hill. The Saun clan, night elves
whose callous actions nearly destroyed the fae population of the meadow and
surrounding forests, owned the out of place monstrosity.
Bram squinted his eyes to
focus his vision on the methodical movement that broke the beam of light. He
could just make out a figure pacing rhythmically in front of the casement.
Unable to ascertain which of the night elves was engaged in the determined
striding, Bram was sure of only one thing…if the night elves were restless and
unhappy, the rest of the valley was in trouble.
~ * ~
Gitty paced in front of the
picture window, ignoring the expansive view of the green valley below. The
thick carpet covering the hand selected hardwood floors muffled the angry
stompings of her boots. At the end of each turn, she jabbed the air with her
finger.
"Think you can take away
my magic, do you?" She spun on the ball of her foot and stamped to the
other side of the room. "We'll see about that!" Jab, jab.
Morgan, the younger of the two
siblings, stretched his limbs languidly across the fine leather couch, watching
the angry display being played out in the living room, a smirk residing on his
lips.
"What has your knickers
in a twist?" His leg, hanging over the arm of the couch, swung slowly back
and forth.
Gitty broke her tirade for a
moment. "I'm surprised yours aren't. How can you tolerate not having magic
to use?"
"Because, dear sister, I
don't need magic to get my way. I have my," he waved a hand up and
down his body, "obvious attributes."
Gitty grimaced. "Please.
Don't make me sick."
Pulling to an upright
position, Morgan stretched his long legs in front of him, tucking his hands behind
his head.
"You're just
jealous."
"Hardly."
"Then what's your
problem?"
"I don't fancy living my
life in pubs among the scum of the valley sponging off the pity of strangers.
My plans include owning all I see."
Morgan rose from the couch and
faced his sister.
"Good luck with that.
Even the Others are wise to your quest for power. I'm going out. See you
later." He moseyed out of the living room and down the hall.
Gitty gritted her teeth.
Morgan might be her brother, but he was useless when it came to thinking beyond
his next good time.
She glared at the source of
the fingers of light stretching over the meadow. The owner of the Lending
Library was an Other the local fae had embraced with open arms. Even Uther, the
one-time leader of the night elves and her uncle, had taken a personal interest
in the older female.
"Must be losing his
sanity."
She spotted a pinpoint of red
light glowing in the far distance. As hard as she tried, she couldn't sense the
origin of the light.
"I hate not having my
magic!" She smacked the wall with her hand, immediately regretting the
action. Bolts of pain shot up her arm.
"Damn it!"
Turning on her heel, she
tramped out of the room.
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