Ladies and gentlemen, it gives me great pleasure to bring you an excerpt from the upcoming novel Tales of Evermore by T.K. Wilson, who also happens to be my sister.
Below is an excerpt from this thrilling fantasy novel. If you enjoyed it, please consider supporting the publication of this book by sending a donation to T.K.’s Venmo @Tamra-Wilson-8
Thank you, and enjoy!
Chapter Five- Damsel in Distress
A few days passed with no sign of the Prince of Allemagne leaving. In order to get some peace, Maegan, Fingal, and Goewyn set out on an early morning ride. They rode at an easy amble with Fingal astride his black unicorn, Bucephalus, Goewyn on a white unicorn of smaller build than Fingal’s stallion, and Maegan on a stag with gilded horns that she had named Caesar. Though willing unicorns didn’t require them, Bucephalus didn’t mind a fancy saddle and bridle with no bit, and just to flatter himself and his master; he wore one now.
A large field surrounded the keep, where those in the employ of House Meridian grew the crops used at the castle, along with portions for themselves. A highway ran east through the fields, the direction the elves took toward the Forest. It was just after dawn and the laborers saluted them as they made their way to work. Maegan, as the heiress of the house, greeted them all kindly, asking about family and business, if she knew them well enough.
Once under the trees, Maegan, the most generous and gentle of souls, gave vent to her feelings. “I’m sending word to Father and Mother as soon as we get back, Anders has been such a bother, and a bore. If I hear about one more tournament, I will scream! It seems he does nothing but tournaments.”
“Believe me, sister, I would like to try him on the field, see how well his mouth matches his deeds,” said Fingal, stroking his unicorn’s neck.
“But what can we do? We have no authority to send him away, and if we were to try, it would cause a diplomatic incident,” said Goewyn.
“How is Rhodon?” asked Maegan.
“Paranoid, and with good reason. He’s set the gnomes to guard Akasma’s Rose day and night, for fear Anders should try to steal a piece.”
“Do you think that he would?” asked Fingal, incredulously.
“I have little doubt he would try it,” Goewyn growled. “I’ve never seen Rhodon in such a state. The poor dryad is shedding leaves, he’s so stressed.”
“Why is Anders so obsessed with that tree?”
“Probably because Rhodon told him no,” observed Goewyn.
Maegan dropped the reins of the halter on her stag. “I wish Anders would just leave. He’s a boaster and a lout.”
Goewyn and Fingal burst into laughter at Maegan’s unusual outburst.
“Don’t make fun, this is distressing!”
“We’re not, Maegan.” Fingal smiled. “I believe Goewyn is also imagining Anders’ reaction to this change; I doubt he believes you capable of anger.”
They were distracted by a sound in the bushes like someone in pain. A human form crashed to the ground, one limp arm flopping into the roadway. Goewyn climbed off her unicorn and dove into the bushes.
“Ard Ri help us!” she prayed to the High King of Heaven, then added, “Fingal, come!”
Fingal immediately jumped down, Maegan following his lead. When they joined Goewyn in the bushes, they found a human girl. She was nearly skeletal. Bruises and scratches marred her arms, plainly visible through the thin sleeves of her ragged dress.
“Is… is she alive?” asked Maegan.
Goewyn felt for a pulse. “Yes, she’s alive. We must take her back to the keep at once!”
“She’s naught but bones!” Maegan ran her fingers along the criss-crossing scars and scratches on her arms. “She must be so sore.”
“Maegan, please move to the side,” requested Fingal. He knelt down, carefully maneuvering the girl into his arms. She was daintily built and fair skinned, with long black hair which was tangled and thin. Her hair fell away from her ears, revealing the tiniest points; she was elf-blood. He tried to be gentle, but as he stood she woke up. She squirmed and pushed back against him.
“Let go! Let go of me! Stop!”
“My lady, you are safe now, don’t be afraid,” Fingal tried to restrain her, speaking in elvish.
“English, Fingal! She’s speaking English!” cried Goewyn.
Fingal switched languages. “Miss, please, calm down, you are safe, we will not hurt you.”
The girl stopped fighting and looked up into Fingal’s eyes. He knelt back down, holding the girl up, keeping eye contact with her. Her eyes were soft gray, an unusual color. She noticed the other elves, her eyes darted first to Goewyn, then Maegan.
“What is your name, my lady?” Fingal asked, still speaking English. She didn’t reply. “Wise, my lady, those who know your name can control you.”
“I learned that the hard way…” she muttered.
“I am called Fingal. What should we call you?”
“Sera.”
“I will have you safe in moments, Sera.”
Goewyn climbed back on her unicorn. “Fingal, go on ahead of us; Bucephalus is fastest.”
Fingal carefully set Sera on the unicorn first, where she fell against the stallion’s neck. Bucephalus lifted his head to support her, a sign that the unicorn sensed a pure heart. Fingal mounted next and held her up.
“Home, Bucephalus, my friend, as fast as you dare.”
The unicorn set off at a swift canter toward the city of Meridian.
(Illustration)
Sera looked around, alive to any threat. The unicorn wore a saddle and bridle, but the reins lay loose across the creature’s back. In spite of this the elf-man was in full control of the massive creature, a soft word or nudge was all it took to direct him. As grateful as she was for her rescue, she wondered what the price would be. As darkness threatened to take her again, she decided that whatever she was going to had to be better than what she left behind and allowed herself to lapse into unconsciousness.
Fingal studied the human girl lying in his arms. Where had she come from? Why was she here, alone, and so wretchedly dressed and abused? Her silver-gray eyes, though dim with grief and suffering, had drawn him to her. There was more that was fae and magic to her than it first appeared. The unicorn nickered; he could tell she was in very ill health.
“I know, I know, that is why we must hurry home.”
As the city approached, Fingal checked Bucephalus, slowing him to a trot. The deceleration woke the girl and she gasped, gripping wildly at Fingal’s tunic.
“Easy, be easy,” soothed the elf, remembering to speak her language. “We’re only approaching my city.”
She raised her head and saw the city of Meridian close at hand. The walls shone with white marble, rising above the plain and trees majestically. She relaxed again, watching in silence as Fingal turned off the main road and up to a smaller track going to a side gate. The doors swung wide and allowed him inside. He then directed Bucephalus into a courtyard and to a dismounting block. Someone Sera couldn’t see hailed them in the elves’ language. Fingal answered, then dismounted and slipped Sera off the unicorn. Sera looked down and saw that a dwarf with a thick blond beard was the one talking, but she couldn’t understand anything but snatches of words. She was afraid for a moment that she would have to walk, but Fingal made no move to put her down. For that she was grateful, otherwise she was sure she would faint.
“Sir-”
“Shh, do not try to speak.”
Her vision dimmed again, so she lay still and let him carry her along. Wherever he took her, it was sure to be better than dying alone in that forest.
Sera took in her surroundings in a blur. Above and beside her was the white haired elf in black, around her a shining castle. Tapestries lined the walls, the floors were white marble, windows filled the halls with light. People they passed bowed to her rescuer; he must be the ruler of this castle. She was borne away through the halls swiftly, until she was brought into a large, bright, beautiful, blue room.
“Healer Callum!” cried the Lord, once again in English.
An elf, shorter than Fingal, with dark curly hair rushed toward them. He was dressed in a long pale blue and white coat, and had a gentle, caring air.
“My Lord, what have you found?” Thankfully, this elf also spoke Sera’s language.
“One of our misplaced people, an elf-blood human. Please, speak English; she doesn’t understand our language.”
The healer nodded, then leaned closer and touched Sera’s forehead, giving her a good looking over. His ears weren’t as pointed as Fingal’s, marking him as an elf-blood like her.
“She’s very sick indeed. Give her to me.” He called in his own language to a group of female elves who seemed to be his nurses.
“Just rest, child,” said the healer. “We’ll put you in a nice warm bath with oils that will help you feel better.”
Sera found herself whisked away by Callum. She looked over Callum’s shoulder at Fingal before he was out of sight. She was grateful for him, carrying her all this way, she knew she didn’t look or smell her best. Surely he was good, no one as beautiful as he could be… oh, there was no good deed without an exchange, she knew that much! What would they want in return?
Goewyn and Maegan arrived soon after. Fingal waiting inside the healer’s rooms for them.
Maegan ran to her brother. “How is she?”
“Hurt and heartsick, from all the healers can tell. She’s been on the edge of death for days; it’s a wonder she could walk at all. She was just brought in after being bathed and they’re tending her wounds behind that curtain now.”
The healer’s rooms, painted soft blue, seemed to catch and hold all the light from the windows, diffusing it so all the healing and disinfecting goodness of the sun was distributed to every corner. In one corner, white curtains had been drawn around a bed, where the healers were tending the girl. The healers came out and parted the curtains, revealing the girl, laying asleep and comfortable on the mattress. She was still ashen, but having her injuries tended and being bathed made her look much better. Healer Callum approached the trio.
“It was fortunate you found her when you did. She might have died if you hadn’t!”
“What have you given her?” asked Maegan.
“Elysium, of course, along with a course of Aksama’s Rose oil, peppermint, and thyme oil on her wounds.”
Maegan nodded. Elysium extract could cure any sickness or wound.
“But sadly not all the scars will fade. Whoever had done this must have truly hated this girl.” Callum shook his head in pity. “She should sleep for hours. That’s what she needs most, a good sleep.”
“I wish we could stay and look after her, but we have Anders to consider,” said Maegan.
Callum nodded. Warnings had been whispered by all the staff of the unendingly arrogant temperament of Prince Anders and his desperate attempts to speak with Lady Maegan alone.
“You’d better go before he comes looking for you. I will not have anyone disturbing my patient.”
As they left, Fingal cast a glance over his shoulder at the girl. A nod from Callum assured him she was doing well.
“Well, Fingal, looks like you found a damsel in distress just two miles outside the walls!” gibbed Goewyn.
“We must all speak English to her,” said Maegan. “It will be good practice and will make her feel more comfortable.”
Fingal nodded, thinking about the mysterious girl now under their protection. He couldn’t get her silver eyes out of his mind, such an unusual thing to see.
The next morning, Callum came to the Meridians while they ate breakfast. Anders had only lately risen and was having breakfast in his room.
“My Lord and Ladies, your foundling is awake and asking for her rescuers. She wishes to thank you.”
“Oh, of course! Tell her we’ll be there in a moment. See that she has something to eat.” Maegan directed.
“Already taken care of, some toast and weak tea has been given to her.”
Callum walked a little distance to the door and waited.
“You and Fingal go on ahead; I need to stop by Rhodon’s garden,” said Goewyn. “Healer Callum used the last of the rose oil last night and needed me to get more from Rhodon.”
Maegan nodded and finished her tea. “Are you ready, Fingal?”
Fingal rose, and offered Maegan his arm. “Of course, sister.”
“We’ll meet you there, Goewyn.”
Sera sipped at her tea. She only had one slice of the toast (covered in the best butter she’d ever tasted) and was full. She thought of her rescuers and chose to believe they would be kind to her. She had to or she would go mad.
“I present Lady Maegan, Sun of Meridian and Lord Fingal, the Moon of Meridian,” proclaimed Healer Callum.
She quickly and self consciously covered up her hospital tunic with her blanket and tried to hide her arms. Awkwardly holding her blanket across her chest, Sera bowed a bit from her bed. “Thank you for saving me.” She glanced at them briefly, not really looking at them.
“You’re welcome,” said the lady elf in English. She sat on the bed near Sera’s knees.
Sera, taken aback by this behavior, looked up sharply in fear. Here came the price.
“Who did this to you? I know it may be hard to discuss…” Maegan persisted.
Sera relaxed. At least they didn’t ask her now. She shook her head. “I can’t talk about it. Not now.”
“That’s alright. Maybe later today you would like to walk around the garden? We would be happy to take you.”
“Don’t you have servants for that sort of thing?”
Maegan laughed. “You misjudge us. We have many in our household that do tasks for us, but we are no strangers to caring for guests and even working for ourselves.”
Someone in the doorway cleared her throat, attracting the attention of Sera, Maegan and Fingal. There stood a golden-haired elf maid on the arm of a tall creature who looked for all the world like a walking tree, dressed in a long robe of leaves.
“I present His Highness, King Rhodon-”
“Oh, dispense, dispense, Callum,” exclaimed Goewyn. “Do not make the poor girl stand on ceremony.”
Rhodon, carrying a potted white tea rose in one hand and holding Goewyn’s arm with the other, glided into the room. His clothes made a nice, quiet rustling noise as he walked like the noise of wind in the trees. Sera shrank into the bedclothes, frightened of the seven-foot-tall dryad.
“Don’t be afraid; Rhodon is gentle and good,” soothed Maegan. “And this is our cousin, Goewyn.”
Rhodon put the pot on the bedside table. He said something in Elvish and looked kindly down on Sera. His eyes were a deep green, with an amber ring around the iris, arresting in their color and gentleness. They were so sad, and reflected back to her, not her own face, but deep green forests and roses in the sun.
“He says that it’s for you,” said Goewyn.
“Oh, they’re so pretty.” Sera leaned over to smell the flowers. “Thank you.”
As she leaned over her baggy tunic slipped down her shoulder. She jerked upright to cover herself. She looked around, Maegan and Goewyn’s eyes were misty with sympathy, they saw the worst of the rake marks on her shoulder. Fingal and Rhodon had both turned away, like they wanted to respect her privacy.
Goewyn translated Sera’s English words into Elvish for Rhodon. Rhodon then responded in Elvish, which Goewyn translated back to English.
“He says you are very welcome. Do you speak Elvish at all?”
“I can understand a little, I think. It sounds like Irish Gaelic.”
“It’s very similar.”
The tramp of heavy boots sounded through the room. Everyone bristled, Goewyn came closer, putting herself between Maegan and whoever it was coming in their direction. It was another male elf, broader than Fingal with golden curly hair. He walked like he owned the place straight toward them.
He looked about, fixing his eyes on the potted rose. He seemed angry or irritated for a moment, then he looked at the other elves. He smiled somewhat pleasantly, itching at his wrist. He said what sounded like a greeting in Elvish.
“Prince Anders, I would like to introduce another guest. This is Sera.” said Maegan, still in English.
Anders wrinkled his nose, nodded once at Sera, then turned to Maegan. He spoke in Elvish, completely ignoring Sera.
“Perhaps later, Your Highness.” Maegan said gently, in English, turning back to Sera and laying more of the blanket over her.
Anders kept talking, but Maegan ignored him.
Fingal put himself between Anders and the bed and addressed him in Elvish. His tone was aggressive. The Prince argued something loudly, Sera cowered into the bedclothes like a child, keeping one eye open and on the elves. Fingal stepped into Anders’ space, using his body to push Anders away. The Prince snapped again, but never got to finish, Rhodon broke in, his gentle voice now a bark. Anders, caught between the dryad and Fingal, quickly left the room, trying to make it a graceful exit and failing.
Sera still hid, curled into a ball of nerves.
“Come out, Sera,” soothed Maegan. “It’s all over. My brother has scared him away.”
Fingal took a breath and shook himself, speaking once more in English. “I am sorry you had to see that, Sera. Prince Anders has been-”
“Naught but pestilence since he came,” muttered Maegan, darkly.
Fingal snorted and smiled bitterly. “An apt word, sister.”
“He’s certainly not as he appeared at first,” said Goewyn.
Sera said nothing, only studied those around her. Brother and sister, like the Pevensies, ruling this land. How interesting, how strange.
“Thank you for saving me,” she said. “I’ll find some way to make it up to you.”
“Only get better, that is all we wish.”
If only she could be sure that was all they wanted…
You can follow T.K. on Twitter @TKWilsonAuthor1 and on her Facebook page. Again, if you wish to support the publication of this series, please send a donation to @Tamra-Wilson-8 on Venmo. No amount is too small.