Worlds – The Word Worker

Official Virtual Book Launch

Get ready to step into a brand new story, full of magic and lore! Chosen will be available for purchase through multiple platforms on August 9th, 2021, and we are marking the occasion with a fun virtual Facebook party! The kids and I would love for you to join us for fun games, discussion, and sneak peeks into the world of Fae.

Click the link below to join the fun as we get ready for the event. If you want to check the book out ahead of time to see if it’s your cup of tea (or coffee), look below the event link to find all my previous teaser posts.

https://fb.me/e/2rrlHlcUi

https://wordworkerrussell.wordpress.com/2021/02/21/book-teaser-chosen-the-sprite/

https://wordworkerrussell.wordpress.com/2021/03/06/book-teaser-chosen-the-vampyr/

https://wordworkerrussell.wordpress.com/2021/03/20/book-teaser-songs-of-fae/

https://wordworkerrussell.wordpress.com/2021/04/03/book-teaser-the-innkeeper/

https://wordworkerrussell.wordpress.com/2021/04/18/book-teaser-in-the-giants-hall/

https://wordworkerrussell.wordpress.com/2021/05/01/book-teaser-dwarves-and-elves/

https://wordworkerrussell.wordpress.com/2021/05/15/book-teaser-the-mer/

https://wordworkerrussell.wordpress.com/2021/05/29/book-teaser-the-queens-guard/

https://wordworkerrussell.wordpress.com/2021/06/13/book-teaser-the-dragon/

https://wordworkerrussell.wordpress.com/2021/06/26/book-teaser-the-confrontation/

Book Teaser: The Mer

Marinus and his companion turned and dove into the ocean, waves having piled up around us against the sloping sand. Our bubbles kept pace with them, seemingly drawn by invisible tethers emanating from the merman’s outstretched hands. I tried to look around as we were drawn into the deep water, but the rushing water flowing past me around the edge of the bubble so disoriented my senses that I had to close my eyes to conquer the bile rising in my throat.

We slowed and excited voices reached me through the liquid shell surrounding me. I opened my eyes to find myself in the midst of a crowd of staring swimmers. Eyes the color of the depths of the sea in scaled faces sharing the bright hues of a coral reef examined every part of us. The voices spoke in a strange language, reminding me strongly of whale song I had heard on Earth. I listened, fascinated, as Marinus responded in the same language, his own voice no longer the roaring of surf, but overpowering the others the way a lion’s roar would drown out the mews of his cubs. The crowd quieted and drew back but continued to follow, attracting more swimmers the farther we went.

With our speed slowed I was finally able to look around me. Mer was one of the most mesmerizing places I had ever seen. Houses seemingly grew from living coral, pockets across their surfaces filled with small fish and sea creatures that darted about with abandon. Wide thoroughfares of deep sand ran between them. Here and there floated odd water sleds of what appeared to be some exotic leather stiffened with whalebone, harnessed behind huge fish that despite fins and gills reminded me incongruously of cattle.

The merpeople themselves were nothing like Earth stories had painted them. The men were large and fierce, heavy fins protruding from their forearms and upper backs. Many of them bore scars that broke the sleek lines of their bodies. All carried spears strapped to their shoulders, connected to leather cords wrapped multiple times around their waists. The women were smaller, slimmer, and their fins streamed behind them like rippling trains, but their teeth were as sharp as those of the men and their fingers were tipped with sharp spikes. I was surrounded by colors brighter than I had imagined possible enhanced by the rippling sunlight making its way below the waves.

The Pod

Lise’s eyes darted back and forth in the dim light under the trees. Jole was always following her around, but she didn’t want to share her find with her loudmouth little brother. Sure she was alone, she ducked under the hanging moss hiding the strange pod and its contents.

The bones were merely a curiosity; scraps of material that crumbled at a touch held no meaning, though she did run her antenna over the hands. What possible use could require the use of five fingers? No matter, she had seen stranger creatures.

It was the box that she came for. The lock was simple and old; nothing a quick finger circuit couldn’t shock open. Inside was a roll of some thin stiff substance, cracking with age despite being protected in the box, and covered with what could only be a map. Lise had seen one when she snuck inside the council bore; a whole cycle of silence had been the price of that indiscretion. This one didn’t look right, though; the outlines were far bigger and more wiggly than on the other.

Beside the map was the strangest device, like a small box except covered with gadgets that spun and clicked under her fingers. She dropped it with a alarmed purl when one side flew open and whatever had been inside scattered as dust over the square objects beneath it. Carefully she pulled them out, wondering at the images on their smooth faces. Nothing like them grew anywhere near her home; surely such things were nothing but fever dreams of a creative. Still, her eyes drifted to the five-fingered creature’s remains and the odd looking map. What if they weren’t?

Book Teaser: In the Giant’s Hall

My breath caught in my chest. Was it possible he had heard my silent scream? My fear hadn’t lessened, but somehow my need directed it outward. Dagda had said to use my feelings rather than letting them control me. I kept my eyes on the Eimlach and begged wordlessly. He didn’t move, but shreds of music began to separate the gray.

I turned my attention inward, listening with every fiber of my being. The Eimlach’s eyes bored into mine, the sneering laughter of the vampyr fading under the swelling, unifying song in my mind. I didn’t realize I had begun to sing, words that I did not understand, until my hands began to tingle. I lifted them in front of me and watched as the notes shaped a great sword, unsheathed and deadly sharp. Movement around the room pulled at the periphery of my vision. The giants moved, slowly stirred by the battle song.

My eyes returned to the Eimlach, whose lips moved with the words of the song though little sound accompanied them. I turned slowly to find Dagda and Balhon watching. Balhon lowered his head and a whirl of red light streamed from his horn, wrapping itself around me and the Eimlach, seeking the Eimlach’s warriors. I could feel the heat of its intent; fight, it said, fight for your lives! Dagda stood, sword drawn and ready, seemingly as tall and mighty as the Eimlach himself. His smile to me glittered through the retreating gray and the swirling notes in my mind.

I whirled back as the Eimlach’s voice boomed suddenly behind me, his deep bass joining my girlish tones as he heaved himself to his feet, face still gray but with color quickly returning. A sword twice the size of mine formed in his hands, and the other giants in the hall stood and joined the song. Dagda shouted the windows open and both the song and Balhon’s red-hot light flowed into the city.

Book Teaser: The Innkeeper

Dagda led us to an inn near the edge of town. The door, large enough to accommodate the tallest of giants, was made of solid oak planks, heavy and impenetrable. Fortunately for us, a smaller door was set into it, still solid and heavy, but with a latch that was accessible to smaller beings like humans or Tuatha De. Dagda lifted the latch and opened the door to a huge room filled with light and people.

A centaur, his human torso wearing a linen shirt and an apron that hung to his knees, approached us as we entered. “Welcome, Your Majesty!” he exclaimed, rubbing his palms on his apron before extending his hand. Dagda grasped it with a warm smile, and the centaur pulled him in to slap his back with the other hand, towering head and shoulders over him. “It’s good to see you again, my friend!” They turned to us. “Balhon you know, of course. Kizi is the one sticking her tongue out at you from beneath his mane. And this is Selene. Selene, meet Khirrafi, the best innkeeper in all Fae.”

“Nice to meet you, Khirrafi,” I acknowledged, examining the centaur with interest. In all the fairy tales and legends, creatures like centaurs and giants were spoken of as fierce, terrifying warriors. I had never considered them as people, with families, homes, and occupations. Yet there was Khirrafi, his dark skin and long straight hair looking not at all incongruously civilized. A leather thong tied his hair into a braid down his back, and grease stains adorned his apron.

He smiled broadly at me and bowed slightly. “The pleasure is mine, Chosen,” he responded. “Whatever you need is at your disposal with my compliments.” He turned to Dagda and Balhon with a similar bow. “You as well, my friends.” Kizi twittered, an indignant note in her voice as she propped tiny hands on her hips in midair. Khirrafi laughed suddenly, a guffaw that startled me and drew momentary attention from half the occupants of the room. “As for you, mischievous sprite, mind your manners and refrain from annoying my cooks and there will be a sweet treat for you!”

The Mirror World

FB_IMG_1590121467061 All his life he had watched the world overhead. All his life he had wondered what it felt like to be surrounded by trees and green things. His own world was barren, a world of ice and rock. The two mirrored each other only in position.

There had been tales of adventurers who tried to climb the ice cliffs to cross the mirror. The few who returned had done so cruelly maimed or altered. None had reached the mirror and lived to tell the tale. None of the missing had ever been found.

Those attempts had been driven by curiosity, by restless individuals unsatisfied to observe from below. He identified with the feeling, but his uncle had kept him on a tight sinew. Adventuring didn’t pull fish from the ice or render whale blubber. So he had gazed at the green sky with its teeming life in longing.

Now the whales were growing scarce. Several years of bitter storms had thickened the ice and even the seals struggled to reach food through its layers. In recent cycles half of his village had sickened from starvation and exposure, and many had died. The Ice Elders had convened an emergency council and called for volunteers for an expedition to breach the mirror.

Not even his uncle could stop him this time. This attempt would be successful; he could feel it. He raised his hand as if to touch the trees. Soon enough, he thought, he would know. Soon enough he would have the answers he had always longed for.

His supplies lay at his feet, arranged carefully on a blanket of whale leather and tied with cords of sealskin through slits in the leather. He made a last check of picks, heavy leather ropes, leather repair kit, dried fish, and seal jerky. He lacked nothing, and rolled the blanket tightly before sealing the ends with more cord.

He looked around to find his uncle glaring at him from under the thick fur of his hood. The old man would never understand. He was angry with the Elders for their decision, refusing to believe the truth that the world was dying. Most of all he was angry with the boy. This was an act of defiance, an unforgivable offense. The boy could only hope that when he returned with wealth from a new world his uncle would see things differently.

He hefted his pack, fastening it securely to his shoulders. There would be no luxury of polar bear sleds on this journey. Most of it would be straight up where the bears could not follow. The Elders would be waiting at the village center. The time for goodbyes had passed. The new world called.

The Worldkeeper

FB_IMG_1589547926891 She was so small, a child really. The oversized case she lugged in her thin hand looked as if it could have pulled her to the ground like an anchor. Her hair draggled down her back, unbrushed dirty blonde, the remains of braids tangled at the base of her skull. Unlike other children, she stared at me rather than my balloons. “I am Lila,” she said, owl eyes boring into me, searching my depths for who knew what.

“What is in your case, Lila?” It was a strange question to ask a stray child, but she was strange. There was no air of the waif about her, despite the ancient undersized sundress that barely hid her frail body. And yet she didn’t seem to belong to any of the families playing on the sand below.

She blinked at me, head cocked to one side. “Oh, that’s my treasure,” she said, not a trace of a smile on her ghost of a face. “I carry them with me to keep them safe.”

My forehead creased between my eyes. “Them?” I asked. “What exactly do you have in there? Will you show me?” She seemed so innocent, but so disproportionately old. Prickles rose under my hairline when I looked at her, but I could not call my unease fear.

Lila laughed and shook her head, more strands of hair stringing from the leftover braids. “You wouldn’t be able to see anything!” she exclaimed, as if that should have been obvious. “Only I can see, because I am the keeper.”

“Does that mean someone gave you something to take care of?” I wondered. This unearthly girl was hardly a likely candidate for that, I thought. “Your mom or dad? Or maybe a grandparent?”

“Oh no,” she answered, her tone matter of fact. “I collected them.”

“From where?” I was beginning to feel suspicious, but I could not drag myself away. Her eyes, still fixed on me, held a fascination that I could neither explain or resist.

“Oh, wherever I find them,” she said thoughtfully. “I found one in a dandelion once.” She continued to stare at me.

“What exactly do you look for?” I stammered, fidgeting. I clenched and unclenched my empty hand behind my back, the other clutching sweat-slippery balloon strings.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I just know when I see them that I have to keep them.” Her gaze finally shifted to the balloons, but unlike other children, she kept her solemn expression.

“Would you like a balloon?” I asked, feeling like it was my day for lame questions. Without hesitation she pointed to an entwined bunch of yellow, blue, and striped spheres. “Yes, I need those three,” she announced.

I carefully extricated them from my hand and gave them to her. Without a word she hefted her case and set off down the road away from the beach. “Wait!” I called after her. “What treasures do you keep? I have to know!”

She turned and smiled for the first time and glanced up at her bunch of balloons, then back at me. “Why, worlds, of course!” And as she walked away, the balloons aloft over her head, for a moment I actually saw them.

The Aftermath

FB_IMG_1574886918099 I stared at the last piece of pie, barely seeing it. It had been on the plate in front of me long enough to be room temperature, and the dollop of whipping cream atop it was looking not quite so whipped anymore. Of course returning to Earth after a magical war would coincide with the Thanksgiving holiday.

All the happy families around us in the restaurant left me sick to my stomach. They had no idea what had just happened; they couldn’t feel the magic exploding from the collapsing barrier. I glanced over at Dagda, sitting across the table picking at his own pie with a pained expression. Brigid sat next to him, head down, eyes gazing into nothing. Casual passersby would probably just assume we were a dysfunctional family trying to make it through the holiday. If only that were true.

They would know soon enough. The worlds were uniting once again, just as had been prophesied. None of us had quite realized what that would mean. Fae peoples were being scattered around the globe in fits and spurts, in some cases plunged into a world of which they knew nothing, in others their own homes displacing Earth structures. Within an hour or two word of the increasing chaos would reach even the most oblivious of celebrators.

Suddenly furious, I snatched up my fork and plunged it viciously into the center of the slice of pie, smattering cream onto the tablecloth. My companions both started, their expressions deepening into worry. “It isn’t fair!” I snarled. “Is this what we fought Dracul for? To replace one chaos with another?” I shoved my chair back with enough force to rattle the glasses on the table and draw mildly curious glances from nearby diners, and stood up. “I hate magic! I hate it!”

I stalked away, my vision blurring. I took a deep breath. The last thing we needed now was for me to lose control. There was no telling what power would ignite before magic found its place here. Balhon and Kizi were waiting in the city park, unnoticed in the trees. That was where I needed to be. Their strength and hope would calm me. Maybe.