by L. L. Bower
“If you’re successful, you could bring lasting peace to Fairyland, without any bloodshed.”
“It sounds like I don’t have a choice.”
“You always have a choice.” He sits taller, a stern expression on his face. “If you decide not to go, you don’t have to give my gifts back. They’re yours to keep and use whenever you fight in our war. But they will help you succeed if you do accept this quest.”
Questions ricochet through my mind. How will events unfold if I say no to the king? Despite the cost in lives, might we still win the war? The Creator doesn’t think so, and he would know.
But, if I accept this quest, what guarantee is there that I can even reach the stones? And, if I don’t make it, what happens to Fairyland and the world in general?
“Can I have some time to think about my answer?” I ask, as I stow my swords.
“Yes, but don’t take too long. I believe the dark side will continue to commit atrocities, one way or the other.”
The king sighs wearily. “That’s all I have to tell you, Calen. If you have any more questions, let Silvermist know, and I’ll try to answer them. And whether or not you accept my challenge, you’re welcome to stay here as long as you want, to rest and regain your strength.”
I need to consult with Crisa and the Creator before I make a decision because I’m confused about what I should do. Part of me thinks I’ll die in this quest, especially since the dark side knows that only I can obtain those stones. They’ll shadow me with every silver weapon they can find or make. But part of me thinks I’d be foolish not to seize this opportunity to avoid more war and bloodshed, even if I don’t succeed.
“You’ve blessed me greatly, Your Highness, with your trust. I expect to give you an answer within a few hours. May I have your permission to leave?”
“Of course.” The king nods.
I start to turn around, but then I remember Crisa’s words. “Never turn your back on the king. To face away from a sitting monarch is a sign of great disrespect.” I bow, pick up my chair and put it back where I found it, always facing the king. Then I back away from the throne area.
When I reach the doors, I fumble for the handles behind my back, turn them and push them open. I slip out into the hall, still facing the king.
My last vision of King Aubrey—slumped over, his head in his hands, like he’s bearing the weight of Fairyland’s future on his shoulders. With one more backward step, I let go of the door handles and move out of the way, as the pearl-and-gold-embellished doors creak shut in front of me.
Acknowledgements
I wish to thank all my faithful readers who gave me such helpful and positive feedback on the first book. I was encouraged by your comments to tackle the second book, which was more of a challenge since you were already acquainted with the characters and had certain expectations for them.
I wanted to live up to those expectations and produce something you would enjoy reading and that I, as a fantasy reader, would not want to put down. I find so much fantasy to be too dark for my tastes, and, even though dark characters and situations exist in this book, I hope you see the thread of hope and optimism throughout. As Crisa says, “Evil flourishes for a time, but evil is always weaker.” I know Calen never gives up, no matter what the dark side throws at him, and good will triumph in the end.
I’ve done my research on this book too, learning about rock climbing, bats, behemoths, leviathans, gryphons and cave homes built inside mountains (Google them, they really do exist).
I praise my Creator for allowing me the strength and perseverance to spend the hundreds of hours it takes to create a fictional work and make it believable. I give him the glory for this project. When I didn’t know where to take the plot next, he gave me dreams to work out plot twists, and at times, ideas would pop into my head, things I hadn’t even considered. As Brutus philosophizes, “There are no coincidences [with the Creator], only carefully laid plans.”
I love the characters in this book, and they’ve become family. I hope you’ll feel that way too. When the series is over at the end of book three, I’ll probably get misty-eyed and nostalgic at not being able to spend any more time in the Mansentia forest. To be honest, I’m just a kid at heart, who never grew up, and who loves imagining other worlds populated by strange beings.
I wish to thank my husband Steve, who not only read numerous drafts, but looked for inconsistencies, and cleaned up my wording. He made me consider other possible scenarios before my editor extraordinaire even saw a draft.
To my beta readers, Terry Shannon, Aubrey Bower and Kristi Pardue, my sincerest thanks for your valuable insights, editing and feedback. To Rebecca Carey Lyles, my friend, my editor and the author of the Winds of Wyoming Christian fiction series, a special thanks. Becky is one in a million, and I’m so grateful for all her helpful comments, even when they meant a major overhaul of this manuscript. I’m so lucky she’s willing to hang in there with me until I finish the series.
For ten years, I worked at University of Phoenix, Idaho campus, teaching literature, humanities and writing to over 550 students. I have to say I miss my students. I loved getting them excited about writing and sharing ideas, but last year I resigned to finish this book and devote myself to my writing.
Look for Fairy Wars: The Final Battle to be out sometime in 2018.
Dr. L. L. Bower
A sneak peek at Book 3 –
Fairy Wars: The Final Battles
Chapter 1 – Calen’s Quest
The rope, wet with dew, slips a little in my gloved hands. I choke off a cry.
I swallow hard but continue my climb down the side of Mount Halston, wherein lies the beautiful fairy village of Craghollow, its location a well-kept secret, because that’s where the fairy king Aubrey resides. Recently, however, a dark creature, a raven, infiltrated and then escaped the mountain, threatening Craghollow’s anonymity.
As I descend, my fairy-augmented hearing amplifies the creak of my lightweight armor, which was easier to wear than carry. I also hear the squeak of my sticky-soled climbing shoes against the rock wall and even detect the rope’s brush against the stone.
For those who haven’t met me, I’m Calen Bartholomew Ambrose, an ordinary clock repairman and an avid fisherman. That is I was, until I accidentally stepped on a fairy prince, the king’s son Enlil. His royal touch gave me “special sight” to view the world called Fairyland, a world hidden from other humans and chock-full of incredible magical powers and strange light and dark creatures called numinals.
Contact with the fairy prince bestowed unbelievable gifts upon me—heightened senses, longevity, miraculous healing abilities and weather control. I’m also nearly impossible to kill. Only someone wielding a silver weapon can do me in—and only if that weapon pierces my heart.
Along with these gifts came an unsolicited role—Fairyland’s “human champion.” Up to now, my mission has been to rally the “light” troops and lead them to victory in an age-old war between good and evil. But, after my meeting with King Aubrey, I now have a new purpose. I’ve learned I’m not the first champion, but, if I’m successful in this quest that’s got me hanging from this mountainside, I might be the last.
More about that later.
Despite my special abilities, my fear of the cliff in front of me makes my heart thump and my forehead sweat. Before the trickling sweat can reach my eyes, I momentarily let go of the rope with one hand to wipe my brow with the back of my glove.
“Ahhhh,” I groan when my other bicep spasms, probably from a surge of adrenaline. I desperately grab the rope again. But I don’t look down.
I don’t look up either as the rumble of rock scraping rock reverberates across the canyon walls and make my teeth ache. Above me, the large stone doors to the village must be closing. Yet my focus never waivers from the rock’s pitted face, even when those doors slam with an earth-shaking boom, causing the rock to vibrate. My rope quivers, and I can’t help but shake.
Okay, imagine yourself
in my shoes. You’ve carved out a good life in the middle of a forest. You’ve got friends, a home-based business, and enough free time to fish and enjoy nature. A quiet existence, maybe a bit boring, but nicely predictable. And then, all of a sudden, you can see fairies, but not just fairies—ogres, and goblins and trolls, oh my!
Wouldn’t you rebel at this new role that’s been thrust upon you? Wouldn’t you want your life to remain just as it was? Well, that was me at first. But, as more and more light creatures became my new friends and as I learned the depth of their oppression at the hands of the dark ones, I became invested in helping them win this war. Even though, in my heart of hearts, I hate war.
Oh, yeah, and then the Creator, Fairyland’s deity, showed me how, throughout history, Fairyland’s circumstances have influenced and paralleled the human world. When they’re at war, we are too. So, when despots threaten both worlds, the Creator provides Fairyland with a human champion. The champion’s extraordinary powers and unique perspective can help tip the balance of power to the light side and hopefully bring peace to both humans and numinals.
My heartbeat knocks in my ears when my left foot slips on the mist-covered cliff. I grab the rope tighter and regain my balance. My fingers ache.
“Don’t let me fall,” I mentally plead with the Creator.
To slow my racing pulse, I take deep breaths and then lean back to continue my approach to ground level. I will the still-slick rope to slide, inch by inch, through clenched gloves, knowing that solid ground waits below. What that ground holds, however, is more frightening than this descent.
What nightmarish monsters and unknown enemies pace and prowl at the base of this mountain, I wonder, eager for a chunk of my flesh?
€ € €
Together with Crisa, a sorceress, and Rampart, my werewolf guardian, I’ve lived in Craghollow for the past two weeks. Under those hospitable fairies’ care, I’ve stuffed my champion’s role into my back pocket and taken a mental and physical break. I’ve rested, eaten well and exercised every day, gaining bulk and strength.
I’m almost back to my robust self. That is, the champion I was before Galdo, an evil magician, imprisoned and starved me for several weeks. Judging from how tired I already am, however, I’m not fully recovered.
Now, as I embark upon this journey, the weight of being “champion” again rests squarely and heavily upon my shoulders.
You’re probably wondering, if it was so restful inside the mountain, why am I dangling outside it?
First of all, King Aubrey received a horrible prophecy from the Creator. Even though war has ravaged Fairyland for most of its history, the dark side now plans to extinguish all light beings from their world. According to the Creator, for the first time in history the darklings will succeed, if I, yes little ole me, can’t stop them.
How will they accomplish this genocide, you might ask? By using the lowest of the low in dark-creature ranks—goblins. Goblins are the perfect choice because they have a voracious hunger for power and status. Recently, a horde of them attacked gnome and pixie villages and killed infants and children in their beds. I was puzzled and outraged as to why they’d commit such horrible acts, heinous even for them.
Then it dawned on me. Those homicidal goblins are turning themselves into bogles, wraithlike alphas, in terms of invincibility, of the dark side. Formed when a fairy or a goblin (who was once a fairy) destroys an innocent (like a child), bogles are nearly impossible to kill. The only creature who can do so is a wolf or werewolf, who has to be in the right place, at the right time.
And of course wolves can’t be everywhere at once. Given the goblins’ craving for power, they’ll continue such atrocities, turning themselves into bloodthirsty bogles until Galdo amasses what he believes is an unstoppable army. Then I have little doubt the dark side will annihilate all good folk from Fairyland. I shudder to think how that will affect the human world.
To stop further bogle-making attacks, my fellow escapees from Galdo’s prison (a giant, two mermen, two oreads and a couple of tomtes) plan to recruit others to rout out and attack every goblin the hummingbird scouts can find. The only goblins spared will be those few who’ve become our light-side allies.
I pray my friends are successful. Even if they are, I’m not sure that’ll change the war’s outcome because the Creator didn’t offer other scenarios, except future genocide.
A shadow passes over the morning sun, and I crane my neck to look up, worried about my visibility and vulnerability. I’m easy pickings for bogles. I breathe easier when I see that the dimming stems from an actual cloud, but still I accelerate my descent.
So, you ask, why am I the only one who can stop this long-standing war?
According to King Aubrey, the first Fairyland monarch established an “insurance policy” centuries ago against the dark side ever attaining absolute power. He hid four balance stones, two black and two white, somewhere in the realm. The king has asked me to find these pebbles.
My sentient swords, Noblesse and her male counterpart, Nobliege, have sockets in their hilts for these stones. Like every other champion before me, my swords were manufactured by ground gnomes, Fairyland’s metal workers, and imbued with magic. They were also fashioned with stone-sized recesses ... just in case.
Because it’s morning, I know, without looking, that right below the balance-stone depression, Noblesse’s yellowish sun is alight on one side of her hilt. The accompanying pearlescent dancing fairies and colorful open flowers are also active. At night, the sun darkens, and the bluish moon on her other side brightens. Then the fairies go to sleep, as do the flowers. Although not as ornate, Nobliege’s hilt has magically engraved vines and leaves that sway, without any breeze.
Somehow the stones’ placement into my weapons will neutralize the dark side. At least, that’s what the king believes. I have my doubts. In my months of fighting for Fairyland, I’ve learned things are not always what they seem.
Another shadow passes over the cliff face, and I feel a rush of air as something swoops past my head, leaving a chalky smell behind. On a second pass, the flying menace pierces my scalp with what feels like a series of hypodermic needles and hangs on.
“Yowch,” I yell, jerking a gloved hand from the rope. I reach toward my head and grasp at whatever has latched onto me. When I feel a solid mass under my glove, I squeeze tight and then yank, which causes a flurry of falling feathers and a squawk, but which also releases the grip of what must be a bird. I pull my captive toward my face to discover that my attacker is a raven. My shock at its presence overcomes the throbbing pain in my scalp.
I can’t let this this bird, a servant of Natas (the main source of evil in Fairyland), report back to his master. He’d send all kinds of nasties after me.
The bird squawks and squirms some more. Then it bends its neck down to peck my wrist, hoping I’ll let go. I don’t loosen my grasp.
Finally, it turns toward my face. Worried it’ll go for my eyes, I slam it against the cliff face as hard as I can. Its body goes limp, and I open my hand to drop its carcass to the ground below. I grab the rope again with my other hand and rest a moment.
I wish I hadn’t had to kill such a beautiful animal, but I’ve learned that the evil beings in Fairyland have no mercy and no remorse. It was him or me.
Thanks to my supernatural healing ability, the pain from my wounds is already subsiding, so my thoughts wander back to the balance stones. I ask myself why I’m skeptical about finding and using them.
First of all, in the entire span of time, no one has ever attempted this quest because Fairyland’s good folk haven’t needed the stones before now. After hundreds of years, who knows if they’re where the first king left them? Do they even still exist? Will I recognize them if I find them?
And if they do exist and I can find and recognize them, no one has yet proven how they’ll usher in peace, as the king proposes. Is the magic in them still active? Will I know how to use it when the time comes?
So many questi
ons and not a single answer. In my darkest moments, I see this as a fool’s errand.
But the optimist in me says, if there’s the slightest chance to save the benevolent numinals of this land and avoid more bloodshed, I have to honor the king’s request to find the stones.
After I agreed to the king’s mission, I immediately regretted my decision. King Aubrey claims he’s pointed me in the right direction, but I don’t know my final destination or what awaits me when I get there. I also don’t know what I’ll find along the way, all of which makes me nervous. The king assured me that the Creator and my swords will guide me, so I’m trying to rest in that.
The final shovelful of dirt on my grave is that I must complete this quest alone. No Crisa, with her great range of magic, no Rampart, my werewolf companion, and no Grog, my bugbear bodyguard. According to the king, deadly traps exist along the route to the stones that can kill anyone, but me. I’m not sure why the Creator didn’t include Crisa, who’s immortal, in this mission, but he must have a good reason.
Although silver is probably not a part of those mettle-testing traps, the traps themselves could incapacitate me, or slow me down.
And, if the traps aren’t enough, the king tells me that the dark side keeps a perpetual eye on me. They’re aware of my quest and will likely send whole squads of assassins—with silver knives and swords—after me. And, if they’re bogles, I can’t kill them.
You can see why my powers and near invincibility don’t lessen my dread of what lies ahead. I see only two conclusions to this quest—tragedy or triumph. Not only is my destination unsure, but my own human frailties stand in my way. I fear spiders, high cliffs, very dark places and evil spirits, like bogles. Some champion, huh? If I didn’t know the Creator was behind all this, I’d assume a terrible error has been made.