Guardian of the Moon Pendant (33 page)

My boots splashed through damp puddles, keeping me light on my feet. I knew I didn’t have anything to worry about. Now that I was the Guardian of the Moon Pendant, but I think it’s pretty natural for your heart to drum fervently in your chest when you’re scared.

I believe I must have peeked into a hundred cells, all were empty, and all were not what I was looking for. My eyes flinched noticing a trap door burrowed at the end of the last corridor I was in. I stood above it, tapping the tip of my boot against its rusty padlock, wondering what secrets it held.

My fingers flickered in the air, unlocking the bolt and popping the wooden door open in a thunderous bang. Another narrow staircase curved downward into a black abyss.

I took in a long deep breath and began my descent into the gloom. A fiery path of flames lit my way into a massive room underneath the upper dungeons. Torches were placed in steel sconces along the stone walls, bursting into flames at my command, illuminating the room clearly.

There in the center was a massive iron cage, iron bars knitted tightly together so that no human hand could slide through it. I circled around it, sizing it up, it was at least 30x20 feet, and yet it was minuscule presence in this great room. I peered up, noticing a small crack in the high wall allowed a delicate shaft of light in.

I flicked my hand up, trying to use the power of the Moon Pendant to open the heavy iron door, it creaked open slowly. I cautiously stepped in, my eyes scanning the area for clues as to who could have been so powerful as to be imprisoned here. My eyes stopped abruptly on a light stone on the floor, a single copper vein ran through it. Crouching down, my fingers softly pressed between its hard edges, feeling a groove between the other stones. I wedged my fingers in the space, dislodging the stone, its weight too heavy for me to lift.

I tilted my palm up, slowly the slate rose from its place, floating above a hollowed opening, its slate landing safely beside it.

A draft of icy air kissed the back of my neck as I plunged my hand into the hole, my arm disappeared into the darkness, my fingers fumbling aimlessly in the murkiness until I clasped onto a thick book, yanking it out.

Sitting Indian style, I laid the book onto my lap, gliding my fingers slowly along its spine. I raised the ancient book up to my lips and blew hard, expelling a thick layer of dust. Nestling it back into my lap, I licked the pad on my thumb, smearing off its residue, exposing elaborate intertwined shapes, woven together. It reminded me of
the
shapes carved into Fergus’
s
Celtic cross, braided shapes knotted together beautifully.

I used the tip of my finger to crack open the cover, releasing a dry aspiration of air as if the book were alive. I turned to the first page, glancing at more symbols swirled across the page written in some magical language.

My eyes blurred, feeling the Moon Pendant altering my vision, changing the writing from illegible to legible, and the words twisting and unraveling into English.

The inscription read:

Evil is not born into this world of man,

Evil is created in this world of man.

I took in a slow breath, trying to figure out what the words truly had meant. I flipped open to the first page and began to read what looked like a diary.

It read:

Date: 21/07/519

Dear Sister,

It has been too long since I have last seen the sun’s brilliant rays and danced barefoot in the flowered meadows near the river.

I must write these accounts down as quickly as I can for my captor will return and punish me if he finds me writing in this
magykal
book.

Last night, a strange visitor arrived in my cell. He appeared out of the shadows as if he were a shadow himself. He was from our realm and kindly gave me this book to write into
to
communicate with you. I fear that he is not one of the Light, dear sister, but since I have been here for so long. I am willing to hear what he says. He knew that we both stole the Moon Pendant
and I fear he may come after you, to punish you dear sister. You must be vigilant and aware of this danger.

He did not give me his name, but I dread he is one of the…

Signed,

Lainahwyn, the Light One…

THE END

Or

T
HE BEGINNING
…

The Fae:

Ankou:

In Celtic folklore, the Ankou is considered to be the equivalent of the Grim Reaper. He rides around on his smoldering motorcycle with his skeleton sidecar, collecting the bodies of all who have been touched by the Otherworld.

Baobhan Sith:

[
baa
'-van
shee
]
A vampiric faery from Scottish folklore.
She uses her seductive voice to hypnotize men into her lair, using her razor-sharp fingernails to suck out her victim’s blood. But, if she injects her prey with her toxic venom, they turn into a Màrmann.

Dryads:

[
dri
-adz
]
Dryads are beautiful tree nymphs. They are spirits dwelling within the trees, groves, and forests of Scotland.

Fachan:

[
fah-shan
]
A Fachan is a faery from Scottish folklore. He has one bulbous eye, one arm, one leg, and is covered in bristly hair and dark blue feathers.

Ghillie Dhu:

[
gil
-
ee
-du
]
A Ghillie Dhu comes from Scottish folklore. He is the guardian spirit of trees and harnesses the elemental of earth.

Heather Pixies:

Heather pixies are speedy winged faeries, covered in blooms of purple heather. They have the ability to spring vines from their hands and feet, making them able to carry and restrain anything a hundred times their size.

Leigheas:

[
lay-
huss
]
Leigheas is a faery who has the ability to heal men and the Fae. Once her powers are used, she’s helpless and can only regain her powers from the rising sun.

Màrmann:

[
mar-
mhen
]
Zombie-like warriors whom the Baobhan Sith’s has inflicted her poisonous venom into, changing them from regular men into her undead army.

Nuckelavee:

[
knog-gul-vee
]
Nuckelavee is a creature from Scotland’s Orkney Island folklore that is known as the devil of the sea. A vile hybrid of half-man and half-horse, its skinless body is covered in raw living flesh. Its horse’s head has only one eye. Centered on its back is a thin rider with no legs, but has long ape-like arms.

Red Cap:

A Red Cap is a murderous faery found in Scottish folklore. He is an old hunch-backed man, carrying an iron-pike, donning iron-clad boots, who is fast as lightning. He
dwells in castles and towers, killing travelers regularly to keep his red cap drenched in blood, for if his cap dries out, he will turn to stone.

Stone faeries:

Stone faeries are ethereal angel-like faeries trapped within the MääGord standing stones, waiting for a chance to break free from their cold monolith prisons.

Trows:

A small goblin-like faery from Scotland’s Orkney Island folklore.
They’re only about a foot tall and will immediately turn to stone when a person from the realm of man gazes upon them. Only those who have been touched by the Otherworld can see a Trow move freely about.

Will-o’-the-wisp:

Ghostly firelights seen by travelers at night trying to lead them astray.

About the Author:

Laura J. Williams is a hopeless and lost cause, tucked away in her dark sleeping chamber, in her gloomy abyss of a writing cave, separated from the realm of man, chomping on chicken legs and quenching her thirst with large glasses of red wine. She is consoled daily by her rescued cat, baby-kitty, who only gives her love when
she
wants to.

Aye, it is a sad life she lives…

But, God danced the day Laura was born, the angels rejoiced, and the demons trembled.

She’s just another day-dreamer with a story to tell, doing her best to kick arse. She hides behind a shroud of anonymity, creating a world of lost mythical creatures, breathing life into them, and praying that someone will take pleasure in her work. 

She is the warrior of the heroine, the sorceress of words, yielder of magic, teller of dark secrets, and the jester of tantalizing tales.

Laura’s Blog:
http://laurajwilliamswriter.blogspot.com/

Twitter:
https://twitter.com/_LauraJWilliams

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:
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