Hello everyone, and Happy St. Patrick's Day! =D I'm especially excited this year, because I finally get to reveal the novel I've been working on since last summer in one way or another, and because it's Irish, it's appropriate for the day. I just finished the first draft last month and I can honestly say, I adore this book. It's my baby.
So, a little bit about my novel
Blood Ties:
Blood Ties is set during the modern era, in a speculative version of Ireland that is still run by high kings, and faeries abound and are part of normal day life. There's also a modern version of the legendary warriors of Na Fianna, who take center stage of the story. My protagonist is Ciran Mac Cool a descendant of the great Fionn Mac Cool himself, and he and his friends are all descendants of Fionn's Fianna. This book opens on the tail end of the last of the Goblin Wars which the Irish people have been fighting against the Goblins for nearly a century. During a hesitant peace treaty, a patrol of Fianna and others was taken by the goblins, among them, Ciran's older brother. The book is essentially about Ciran forming a band of misfit warriors who have lost someone in the patrol to go up to the Faelands and rescue them from the clutches of the Goblin King, Lorcan. It's a story about blood ties and family and also a coming of age story for Ciran, his men, and also Eamon, the young High King of Ireland who has a lot to prove to everyone.
Pretty much, this is a short version of what you will find in
Blood Ties:
Modern day warriors who wear leather, carry swords, a drive fast cars.
Moderately hot goblins.
Lots and lots of brotherly love.
And now I'm going to share the first chapter and the prologue with you as a treat, and I hope to share more soon about the creating of my Ireland, and all the different races, places and peoples.
(Warning, prologue contains some moderately graphic torture, if you don't want to read, skip down to chapter one)
Prologue
He
was hauled through the underground fortress, barely able to keep his feet under
him in his weakened state, but he forced himself to stay upright even though he
was mostly being supported by the two goblins who held him from either side.
He was brought to the throne room
where the goblin king sat in a dilapidated yet regal throne, torches blazing
against the stone walls of the mountain dwelling. The whole place was wickedly,
crumblingly beautiful; a relic of a bygone age that was still frozen in the
past despite its living occupants. Aeden admired its horrible beauty even as it
sent chills up his spine.
The guards threw him to his knees
and he hauled his upper body straight so he could look up into the cold,
calculating eyes of the tall goblin that sat on the throne. The creature rose
languidly, his lean frame straight, his hands held behind his back, holding his
tattooed head high. A long black coat swung around his legs and his glossy
boots tapped out a leveled pace that echoed through the domed hall.
“Aeden Mac Cool,” he said. “A
pleasure, as always. Have you had a thought as to what you will discuss with me
now? I trust you found your stay in the rat hole comfortable.”
“Comfortable enough,” the Finnian
replied, watching as the goblin’s clubbed ash blond hair swung back and forth
down his back as he paced. “But I shall not talk to you now, or ever.”
“Shame; you seemed so eager to talk
before. So eager to take the place of the princeling, that I suspected you must
have something of import to tell me.” The goblin sighed in a long-suffering
manor, turning around with a bored expression on his face. “Very well, we shall
have it your way then. I begin to wonder whether you enjoy pain so much, Mac
Cool.”
The Finnian was hauled to his feet
and chained to a rack on one side of the room. The goblin drew a thin blade
from his boot and walked over to him. “I honestly don’t even find this amusing
anymore, I’ve done it for so long,” he said, grabbing the Finnian’s face in one
hand, his long nails digging into the young man’s cheeks. “But if you wish the
pain to continue, by all means, keep defying me. But tell me what I want to
know, and I will let you go back to your family. You know I am not
unnecessarily cruel.”
“And what of the others?” Aeden spat
contemptuously. “Would you send them back as well?”
“If they give me what I want, I
might consider it. But one thing at a time.”
The Finnian only smiled and the
goblin began his knife work with a businesslike manner, slowly flaying a strip
of skin from the Irishman’s hip up his left side. Aeden Mac Cool gritted his
teeth and breathed out slowly between them.
“No?” the goblin asked.
Aeden didn’t say anything. The
goblin shrugged. “Very well then.” He ripped the strip of skin off and the
Irishman couldn’t help the scream of surprise that ripped from his throat.
Blood ran down his side, soaking the top of his worn leather trousers.
“You see, you have only tasted a bit
of the pain I am capable of causing you,” the goblin said, coming behind Aeden,
leaning close. His breath wafted against the back of the Irishman’s neck and
sent a shiver of disgust up his spine. “If you do not wish to sample any more,
let me know, and this can all end here with only a few answers to my
questions.”
“No,” the Irishman forced out.
“Very well then,” the goblin said
again and motioned to his guards. “Bring all my instruments to me. I shall have
him talking by the end of the day.” He shot a hand forward, gripping Aeden’s
neck and wrenching his head back, his lips nearly pressed against the
Irishman’s ear. “And if you don’t talk, I will start on the princeling, and
we’ll see how you do when you’re forced to watch your king’s brother suffer.”
Aeden Mac Cool swallowed hard, and
closed his eyes, willing his mind away by thinking of his family; his parents,
brothers and sister who likely all thought he was dead. He would not give in,
for their sake. He could not give in for the sake of Erin herself. But that did
not stop the mountains from echoing with his screams.
Chapter One
Tracking
The mists rolled off the green
hills, still damp from the morning dew, and the will o’ the wisps curled around
my legs as I loped easily through the heather, leaping from rock to rock as I
focused my attention between the ground beneath my feet and the track ahead,
forging the way not by signs, nor by memory this time, but by carefully
deducted paths recreated from visions and common sense. The wet air, still
smelling of dawn, refreshed me, brought all my senses into focus, so that I
could concentrate on my task. This was my favorite time of day to track, and I
would have felt an unnamable joy in that morning’s duty had it not been for the
subject of my tracking.
I
climbed onto a big rock, bracing myself halfway up and looking back down into
the valley where I could see Tierney still picking up the tent as I made my
last scout. It was foolish, I knew, Aeden had been gone for nearly six months,
but this had been where he was patrolling when he disappeared, and I felt there
had to be something that would tell
me where he might be. That he was still alive.
I
took in the landscape, picturing Aeden standing in my exact position, scouting
the way ahead. If he had been chased, where would he make a stand? I knew
already before the question barely passed through my mind and was off,
sprinting soundlessly over the dewy ground to the valley on the other side of
this hill.
My
memory had not failed me, I saw with satisfaction as I crested the rise and
trotted down into the valley. There was the circle of standing stones, so old
that no one knew who they belonged to now, or what their purpose had been.
Several had fallen like ancient stone warriors lost in battle, but most were
still standing in their original circle. For want of a better location, it
would have been the only spot that a few men could have stood to defend
themselves, and the stones were said to offer protection to warriors who were
true to Erin. I felt in my bones that this was the place my brother had made
his stand and surely it was the place Daegal had dreamed about. I took the
picture he had drawn for me and held it up in comparison. It was the place.
I
entered the circle slowly. I always felt there should be some ritual to
entering a stone circle, but if there ever had been, the knowledge had been
lost in centuries long past. I did bow my head in respect though, for the sake
of whatever spirits or Fae that might guard it still. The stones seemed to
create an energy of their own, not really tangible, but something that allowed
my mind to work more clearly, take in more. Na Fianna were known for their
connection with the land, and such ancient landmarks as these seemed to give us
strength. I looked around the circle, taking the scene in and again trying to
picture the events that had happened here in the past.
I
was drawn to one stone; one of the fallen ones, and crouched to inspect it,
finding an old rust colored stain in a crack of one of the swirling designs
carved into it. I had seen enough blood to know it for what it was, and being
red, it was hardly goblin blood. There was no telling how much blood there had
been to begin with, for whatever had been there, would have washed away long
ago, but it was enough to tell me my suspicions were correct, and my stomach
knotted in instinctive uncertainty of my brother’s survival.
I
braced a hand on the wet ground as I contemplated this confirmation. By rights,
I shouldn’t even have been out there, doing this, knowing my father would
berate me for having false hope, but I hadn’t been home for three months, and I
had missed Aeden more than I could say, and when Daegal and I had spoken on the
phone in my absence, he always had new dreams of his to report, telling me
about this place and how he thought it was connected in some way with the
patrol’s disappearance. I knew I wouldn’t be able to rest before I at least
checked, and Tierney and I had a few days before we had to report back to the
court of High King Eamon O’Brian so we had camped in the valley below, spending
that time tracking and trying to map the path Aeden and his patrol had taken
before they met with an unfortunate goblin attack that had nearly sent our
people back into another long and bloody war.
I
sighed as I thought again how hopeless this venture was. I was about to stand
up when my fingers found something at the base of the stone, hiding in the
grass. I dug down and pulled it out, feeling engraved metal hanging from a
leather strap. My fingers knew what it was before I recognized it by sight,
opening my hand to look at it, for my fingers knew the shape well. It was a
pendant identical to the one I wore about my own neck, a simple bronze medallion
about an inch in diameter with the Mac Cool crest emblazoned on it, depicting
the fish of wisdom from the ancient story. Daegal hadn’t been wrong. Aeden had
been there sure enough. Now the question was whether he was still alive or if
he had perished there.
Two
years ago now, there had been an uprising of goblins and Na Fianna and all the
other warriors and kings of Ireland were called upon to do battle with them. It
had been a feud going on for as long as there had been Ireland and though the
enemy might not have always been the same, the struggle was, and there was
always a new enemy to take the place of the one who was finally defeated. First
it had been my ancestor, the great Fionn Mac Cool who had fought the giants. But that's a story for another time.
The
first Goblin War had happened while the rest of the world was fighting WWII and
another had arisen in the ‘80s only to come to a head again, just three years
past, in the quickest and bloodiest of the three, naming it, in grim humor the
War of the Red Hills for all the blood that had been spilled, mostly ours.
After only a year of fighting, the Kings of Ireland had formed a tenuous peace
with the Goblin King, paying him heavy tithes to seal the pact, but it had not
lasted for more than a year, for there was a sudden, nasty uprising in the
north and the goblins attacked a city on the Borderland and decimated the
people, nearly wiping them all out. Our High King gathered his warriors and
went out to do battle, knowing that the time had come to wipe the goblins out
all together. And he nearly succeeded, but at heavy cost, for though he did
kill the Goblin King, he left his son alive, and lost his own life as well as
that of over half his men in the process. They say that Erin wept blood for her
lost children that day.
And
then only months ago after an unstable peace of nearly a year while we picked
up the pieces of the last battle, the Goblin prince, Lorcan, turned king after
the death of his father, began to make small attacks despite the agreement. One
day a patrol of Fianna warriors went out to scout goblin trails, and never came
back. One of them was my older brother, another was the younger brother of High
King Eamon, and crown prince, but many more had lost loved ones too that day,
but like my father, didn’t want to risk the hope that they might still be
alive. Most of them, anyway.
I
turned and something else caught my eye. A glint of silver caught in a crack of
one of the stones. I knelt to inspect in and saw it was a hair bead like all
warriors wore to show their status, but this one was especially fine, and
engraved with the pattern of the High Seat of Tara. It was also still attached
to a braid of jet-black hair, cut off at about three inches. I pictured the
owner frantically chopping it off himself, finding he was caught in the stone
after being thrust back against it. I held it in a clenched fist for a moment
before I tucked it into the script at the side of my belt.
I
cast about a little more, but everything that was to be found there had been
found, and it was enough proof to prove my and Daegal’s theory of where the
patrol had disappeared. It was no proof of life, but it was a start.
I
looked at Aeden’s medallion again and then pulled it around my neck, tucking it
in under my leather breastplate while my own stayed resting on the outside. I
had called Eamon yesterday when we had still been in town and capable of mobile
service, and told him that Tierney and I would be back at his hall by noon. We
would have to hurry if we hoped to keep that appointment. And he would be eager
to hear of our side trip, especially now that I had something to show for it.
Tierney
had finished packing up the tent and sleeping bags by the time I got back to
the camp and was just loading them into the back of my Vanquish when I came
trotting back. He looked up expectantly.
“Well?”
I
silently showed him what I had found and he nodded, hands on hips, neither of
us knowing what to say. We had been right, but that wasn’t enough. I knew he
had hoped I had found something from his father, but he knew there had been no
guarantee that we would find anything at all and the knowledge that our trip
had not been fruitless was enough for the moment. Still, I felt his pain and
disappointment keenly in the fresh air and punched him lightly in the shoulder.
“Come
on. We need to get back. I’ll let you drive.” I tossed him the keys and he
smiled, even though I knew he knew I was just trying to cheer him up, as he
slid into the driver’s seat with an eager air. I pulled off the sword I wore
over my shoulder and tossed it into the back seat before I climbed in as well. And
then we were off and on the road as Tierney eagerly gunned the car into motion,
laughing.
“If
you do anything to this car, I swear I will hurt you,” I told him but was
grinning as well.
“Don’t
worry, I won’t hurt your sweetheart,” Tierney said mockingly, stroking the dash
with a wink, and only went faster.
With
his driving, we were back in Tara before ten o’clock and stopped at a pub in
town for a quick breakfast before heading to the King’s Hall on the hill
overlooking the town, giving the otherwise modern day setting a medieval flair,
the Hall hardly having changed since the days of Fionn Mac Cool. My mobile rang
as we headed to the car again and I answered it as I sat down in the driver’s
seat, digging my keys out of my pocket.
“Hello?”
“Where
are you?” It was Killian O’Hara’s voice on the other end, Captaen of Eamon’s guards and a good friend, if not somewhat
self-important.
“At
Lannagan’s, we’re on our way in one minute if you hang up.”
“Insolence,
insolence,” Killian chided but I could hear the smirk on his lips. “See you
then.”
I
slapped the phone shut and started the car once Tierney was in and we were off
on the road to Tara Hall.
~~~~~~~
If you want to see more of Blood Ties check out my Pintrest board for it to see all the characters and other goodies. It's newly un-secreted just for you =)
Also, I'm making a soup for my St Patrick's Day recipe, and if it turns out good, I'll post the recipe later this week!
Have a lovely day, and may the road rise up to meet you!
Slainte, Hazel
