Seanan Fescue: (a.k.a Shaman of the Wood.) Hermit living in a tower at the edge of Gian Plain.
Stella 11: reigning queen of Lastarra. (mentioned)
Talisman peddler: a strange man selling charms and amulets in Westerfield, former student of Seanan Fescue.
Mr. Waxford: a scribe in Westerfield.
Inhabitants of Avery Hall:
Lord Duncan Avery: Lord of Avery Hall & Averton, Lyrya. Best friend of Sir Brennus, His father trained them both in knighthood.
Lady MeMe Avery: wife to Duncan. Maiden name, Cintilla.
Lady Noel Avery: Daughter of Duncan and MeMe. Age 10.
Madam Bedford: chief housekeeper of Avery Hall. (mentioned)
Clark: blacksmith, was once a foot soldier, nearly seven feet tall. Wife: Carol.
Emma: Lady MeMe’s personal maid.
Sir Fenard: Baron of Harmon, Lyrya. Duncan Avery’s cousin.
Countess Fynette: young widow of a minor Lyryan earl. Sir Fenard’s sister.
Captain Gunther: captain of the guard.
Lily: housemaid assigned to serve as lady’s maid for Lyssanne. Emma’s sister.
Non-human Characters:
Amphisbaena: two-headed serpent. One of its heads must always speak truth, while the other can lie.
Bob: assassin resembling part hermit crab, part man. Skilled in knife-throwing.
Diornian: deadly creature with the wings of a dragon, body of a spider, tentacles of a sea creature, and a lethal third eye.
Neigeans: (a.k.a. Snow Men of Lyrynn) creatures with alabaster skin and elongated bodies. Their music has magical and coercive properties.
Oni: faceless, silvery creatures resembling liquid pewter or cloaks hung on pegs, with clawed hands. They rob victims of will and emotion.
Reina: unicorn, guardian of Lastarra’s forests.
Seianelle: a simurgh: creature with the body of a bird, head of a dog, claws of a lion, tail of a peacock, and copper wings.
Serena: a small, white dove that befriends Lyssanne during her illness.
Share the Journey
Thanks for reading Keeper of Shadows! I’d love to hear what you think of it, and so would other readers.
Reviews are the best weapons an author has for shedding light on her books. They are often the only way we can let other readers know whether they might enjoy a book as much as I hope you have liked this one. Comments from amazing people like you also encourage online retailers to show my books to more potential readers.
If you’d like to help Lyssanne’s tale step into the light, please share a review on Amazon. Comments on sites like Goodreads and social media channels also help others find their way to the Seven Lands.
Thank you for taking this journey with me!
Bridgett
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Author’s Note
For many of us, the most enjoyable part of reading or writing fantasy is the wonder…the chance to explore fictional words; to meet extraordinary, nonexistent creatures; or to share a character’s adventures as he becomes empowered with superhuman gifts. However, many of these fantastical elements, while an invention of imagination, are based on some facet of reality.
This is true of magic’s effects upon Lyssanne in Keeper of Shadows.
While the magic involved in Venefica’s first attack and the curse she later cast on Lyssanne was, of course, fictional, its effects were based on the symptoms of two very real medical conditions: septa-optic dysplasia and intracranial hypertension.
Septo-optic dysplasia (a.k.a. de Morsier’s syndrome) is a rare spectrum of symptoms and related conditions caused by issues with the development of the midline structure of a child’s brain and optic nerves during pregnancy. Effects can include poor vision, diminished stature, lethargy, low stamina, and many other symptoms. The effects I have listed formed the basis for the results of Venefica’s attack before Lyssanne’s birth. For more information about this condition, click here.
Intracranial hypertension (a.k.a. pseudotumor cerebra) is a medical condition in which the body can’t regulate the production and absorption of cerebrospinal fluid fast enough. This can cause pressure to build up around the brain, resulting in debilitating headaches, dizziness, nausea, sensitivity to light and sound, and—if untreated—damage to vision or brain function. This condition—along with a form of neuralgia, which causes sharp pains along the nerve endings of the scalp—was the inspiration behind the curse Lyssanne endured. For more information about this condition, click here.
One of my aims in writing this novel was to portray, in realistic terms, what daily life can be like for a person who lives with these medical conditions. While their symptoms can certainly shape our physical abilities and endurance—and even affect actions, choices, and careers—they do not define who we are.
Acknowledgments
To God, Author of all life, first and greatest of creative thinkers…to Jesus, hero of my own story…to the Holy Spirit, wellspring of every worthy idea, true writer of this tale—I thank you for the gift of this novel.
My unending gratitude—and half my brain—belongs to Rebecca Bergren, my editor, partner in crime, coauthor on other projects, and dear friend. To our other critique partner and third member of WritingCraft Girls, Laura Smetak, you inspire me! To the rest of the Write Now writers’ group, past and present, your encouragement and advice made this possible.
Special thanks to my first readers—Donna Endriukaitis, Curt Wellumson, and of course Ann Powers, a.k.a. Mom. It sounds cliché (sorry, Curt) to say I couldn’t have done this without you, but that is the simple truth. You, brave warriors who helped me battle writer’s block, insecurities, and long-windedness; motivators who kept me writing—often under threat if I didn’t crank out that next chapter after a cliffhanger—I could fill another 500 page book describing all the ways you’ve helped me with this one.
Kirk DouPonce, most amazing cover designer in the realm, thank you for plucking a vision right out of my brain and making it far cooler than my imagination could dream up.
To Avery Powers, brilliant inventor of magical creatures, you rock, girlfriend! Who would imagine a nine-year-old could dream up Diornian? Thank you for giving him shape (the stuff of nightmares), for giving Bob a spine (er, shell), and for understanding why the jigglinerce must wait for her debut in a sequel.
Also, thanks to Xavier Powers, who kept the Seven Lands fresh in my mind for all those years and fueled spin-off stories through enthusiastic play of that world. Yes, Jarad is you in many ways, dear nephew.
To Colby Clark, another child collaborator, who gave Clark a voice and Sir Fizzil a purpose. Your drawings of the major players kept me inspired!
Heartfelt thanks to Dad, Brian, and KaWan for encouraging me during the journey. Brian, your supposed random nonsense broke through walls and fueled two of my favorite scenes. Thanks for being goofy! Also, thanks for sharing the moment, along with KaWan, when I wrote the last word of the story, a moment made sweeter by your celebrating with a song of praise to God.
About the Author
Since Bridgett's journey began, light and words have defined her world. While defying the limitations of impaired vision and overcoming chronic pain, she learned a profound truth. Light shines brightest through cracked lanterns.
Words remain Bridgett's staunch allies and most powerful weapons in her continuing adventures as author, speaker, editor, and writing coach. By day, she runs Light's Scribe Writer Services in Minnesota. When she isn't slaying evil adverbs and rescuing lost commas in other people's stories, she's off exploring fantasy realms, futuristic worlds, and the deep places within the human spirit. She returns from these quests bearing the tales of cracked and broken beacons who courageously carry light into the darkness—never forgetting that the first such tale she discovered was her own.
For more information or to contact Bridgett, visit her at:
bridgettpowersauthor.com
[email protected]
Also by
Bridgett Powers
If you enjoyed Keeper of Shadows…
Check out these other Tales of the Seven Lands.
SHORT STORIES:
Vinesinger
Shara's hopes of at last fitting in with her fellow Ehlief are as bright as the green and brown strands of her fanned tail, as high as the notes she can't stop singing. Until, that is, she learns the price of discovering her true destiny…
Set in the distant past of the Seven Lands, “Vinesinger” was published in Havok magazine 1.3, July, 2014.
LIGHT-WIELDER CHRONICLES
Tria: A Tale of the Seven Lands (prequel novelette)
Keeper of Shadows
Dark Prism (Coming soon!)
Dawn of Night (Coming soon!)
Preview: Dark Prism
Prologue
Spring, year 1122 After the Dawning
Aislin trembled, her lids clenching tighter against the vision. But, the truth of inner sight would not be so easily ignored.
“Tell me, Seer.” The sorcerer’s smooth, deep voice flooded the subterranean chamber.
The silence that followed pulsed a drumbeat in Aislin’s ears, as if to hasten her answer.
“I—” She inhaled. The dank air did nothing to relieve her ashen throat. “`Twill not please you,” she whispered, her voice holding all the steadiness of a guttering flame.
“Nor does your dithering,” he said. He moved behind the cushioned stool on which she knelt, his heat only sharpening the gooseflesh crawling up her back. “Is it the raven?”
“Worse.”
“Has he shed his feathers?”
She shook her head.
He leaned over her. His scent—rosewood, mulled wine with a hint of mint, and that unmistakeable whiff of bitter almonds—shrouded her senses. “That question is your sole purpose, Aislin.” He stroked a finger through her hair, curling a strand around his hand. “Three months since the Raven Prince dared publicly display the former royal crest, yet you squander the power on other matters.”
“I seek only as you command, but I cannot control the answer.”
His hands clamped onto either side of her head, encasing her scalp like the shell of the poisonous nuts he cultivated. “Show me.”
“Master, please.”
But it was too late. Power lanced through her mind, like a shard of tinted glass slicing through a beam of light, deflecting the vision to his sight.
A vine, green and bright as Aislin’s eyes had once been, pushed its way up through the rock-strewn soil of a common field. It tore through weeds that fought to choke it down. The rocks fell away before it, its power growing as it rose.
The vine was truly an intertwining of three stalks. The centermost, a thin, smooth stem, was greenest of the three. The other two, thicker, a shade darker, and bristling with spines, wrapped the central stalk in protective embrace.
The vine glowed against the landscape as it spread across neighboring fields. Where it touched, new shoots sprang to life. Finally, it wound onto soil Aislin knew well. It swept the ground, the spines of its outer stalks ripping loose the dark thorns that covered the land. It came to a halt before a blackthorn bush, tall as a palace. The vine wrapped around that bush, its three stalks never separating. Round and round, it circled, until the bush was hardly visible. The stalks of the vine drew tighter together, crushing the bush.
“Explain,” the master said, holding Aislin fast to the vision.
“Wherever it spreads, the three-fold vine uproots your hold,” she said.
“The thorns.”
“Yes.”
“And the bush?”
“If unchecked, the vine has the strength to pull down your house.”
“Then, I shall incinerate it,” he said, his tone bored.
“It is impervious,” said Aislin. ‘The living waters of the King nourish it. Nor can it be cut down in the usual fashion. Its intertwining is its strength. As long as it remains thus, it will stand.”
“Then, I shall unravel it,” he said, “sever each stalk in turn. Beginning with the weakest.”
“It will not be so simple a task. That one is the most deeply rooted. It feeds the other two.”
“I need no seer to moan about what cannot be done.” His words slid over her hair. “You live to show me solutions.”
The shard of power piercing Aislin’s mind twisted, spearing white pain through her very center. With each twist of his will, the faint light fueling her vision bounced back upon itself, intensifying. Her hands spasmed, clawing at the sides of the cushion. Then, the vision changed.
“There is a way,” she whispered. “Only one.”
The vine’s centermost stalk lurched between its fellows. A blackthorn branch had stretched up from the bush and gripped its smooth, tender surface. The branch yanked the stalk loose. Its roots tore free of the soil, dripping living waters onto dry ground.
The two outer stems collapsed together, their spines impaling each other. The glow seeped out of them, brown replacing green around their punctures. Then, the decay spread, all the way to their bases. Roots slipped from the soil’s shallow hold, and the stalks crumpled, nothing more than dried husks.
“Who is this weed I must rip from of the King’s hold?” asked the master.
“I know not,” Aislin said. “I cannot see.”
“Look deeper.”
His hands viced around her skull, but the vision was fading.
“I cannot. The light is consumed.”
He released her, an angry severing nearly as painful as his taking of the vision.
“I know only this,” she said, shaking a lock of brown hair from her eyes to peer up into his cutting, silver gaze. “The three-fold vine is your doom.”
Copyright © 2017 by Bridgett Powers
Light’s Scribe Books: P.O. Box 47552 Plymouth, MN 55441.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage and retrieval system, without prior written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.
Map illustrations by: Matthew Thomas. http://www.mthomascomics.com/
Cover design by: Kirk DouPonce, DogEared Designs
ISBN: 978-0-9996506-1-5
Keeper of Shadows (Light-Wielder Chronicles Book 1) Page 48