The Druid and the Bracelet
Author
Chris Dews
Author Bio
Chris was born in 1946, in the bombed out, grimy and exhausted north England town of Bradford in Yorkshire, England.
His father was an engineer and his mother, surprisingly for the time and place, had a deep love of literature. Chris grew up with talk of the latest works by D. H. Lawrence and Dylan Thomas buzzing around the small house.
Chris was always a storyteller. Even at a young age, he amused his friends with imagined tales of the mouse ‘Sandeman’ and comrades. Later, in Grammar School, his skill for amusing writing was commented upon, although not always appreciated by the teaching staff.
Chris studied Electronic Engineering in London, meeting and marrying Valerie in 1969. He worked for several years in Hampshire, then at the age of 31, the couple left to live in California, where Chris enjoyed a successful career as an Electronic Engineer.
The author imprisoned in the engineer broke free upon his retirement in 2012, and Chris began to write fantasy novels, completing the first book in the ‘Druid’ series, The Druid and the Bracelet, in October, 2015.
Chris still lives in the San Francisco Bay Area, enjoying mountain biking, piloting small airplanes and most of all, writing. He and Val have two adult daughters.
Description
It is 2000 years ago in Western Scotland. Celtic villagers, ruled by gods and bedevilled by faeries, scratch a living from impoverished fields, as they have for centuries.
Life is hard, but is about to get worse, much worse.
A dead king returns with a warning of doom.
Men collect maidens for sacrifice to a new god.
A witch girl, Aileen, given an ancient bracelet, disappears in a flash of lightning.
Could it be, as the Arch-Druid says, that evil is leaking into the land?
Aileen is probably dead and in Below World, yet, against all reason, her father orders his sons – the young Druid, Lailoken, and the young but powerful warrior, Cynbel, – to find and return her within eight days. They must obey, even if their quest should take them to Below World, the land of the dead.
An alluring young woman, Lilidh, soon joins the brothers, threatening the growing bond between them. Together they discover the malevolent being stirring in the depths of a black loch, the resurgent evil that threatens all who live and all who have died – even the faeries. Aileen’s disappearance is only the start of the challenges that the three young people must face.
Dragons, faeries, and an ancient bracelet of unknown power all play their parts in helping Lailoken the Druid, Cynbel the warrior and Lilidh battle the malevolent being trapped by the faeries a thousand years before and now, with the help of his dead, decaying servant, wreaking havoc on the world of the Scottish Celts.
In fear for their lives though they are, the two brothers still find time to compete for the love of Lilidh.
The Feeble Wight looms. She will bring death to Lailoken unless he returns his sister in just eight days…
The adventures of Lailoken, Cynbel, Lilidh, and Aileen will capture you tightly until, lump in your throat, the dramatic ending releases you.
With action, humour, and authentic detail of early Celtic life, this story of terror, love, and self-discovery in the face of evil brings the ancient Celts vividly to life.
The Druid and the Bracelet – a truly original fantasy.
Book excerpt
Six creatures stood silent in the darkened chamber. Heads bowed, they listened to the woman’s birthing cries. A few moments of quiet, then new cries—the cries of a newborn.
“Fetch the evil one.” The stone slab that controlled entrance to the chamber screeched open, and two of the creatures, smaller than men but manlike, their faces serious in the flickering firelight, carried in a lead coffin, small, yet too large for the squalling newborn within it. A black dagger, held by a third creature, hovered closely above the coffin. They laid the coffin on a stone plinth by the charcoal fire. Suspended over the fire was a hollowed-out stone cauldron of molten lead.
“We must act quickly,” said the leader of the faeries, an ancient figure dressed for the ceremony in a shining green robe and cloth cap that looked too big. “The dragon queen captured him in her womb. No mortal woman ever made a greater sacrifice. He must not escape.”
“Hold the dagger close,” said another, similarly dressed. “He cannot escape if the dagger is close.”
They slid aside the top of the coffin. The newborn calmed as the leader chanted; it became immobile, as if asleep. The dagger wavered; fear rippled through the chamber.
“Steady that dagger! Our survival—the survival of all of us—depends upon it.”
The leader and faeries began a low, slow chant. Shielding themselves from the heat, others fixed a wooden trough and, tipping the cauldron, allowed a runnel of lead to flow into the coffin. The dull silver liquid surrounded and covered the baby beyond the depth of a clenched fist. Dark smoke poured from the coffin, and detritus collected on the surface of the lead as heat consumed the body.
“Hold it close!” warned the leader again to the faerie with the dagger. “The body is nothing; it is the spirit within it we must trap. Only the enchantments on the dagger prevent its escape.”
They skimmed the ash from the surface, allowing the lead to harden cleanly.
“The body burns and the lead cools, and the spirit within is trapped in the texture of the lead for all time.”
They waited, the dagger pointing steadily at the sarcophagus. Time passed; the lead cooled and became solid.
“The spirit must never be free.”
Relieved, and regarding their work with satisfaction, the leader placed a jet bracelet on the now cold sarcophagus. It glittered blackly in the orange light from the fire, the trembling shadows lending movement to the segments.
“We will leave this here, in case there is ever a need for it.”
He backed away from the solid lead sarcophagus. “Now the consort. She will be easier. She is not a spirit. The enchantments will hold her.”
They brought in a second lead coffin, bigger than the last one, and lowered it to its plinth. One of the creatures gasped as they slid the coffin open to uncover the face of the young faerie lying inside it, dressed in black. All they could see were her wooden face and wooden hands. She was dazzling, ethereal, her face able to stir even these old, long-dead faeries. Although the enchantments gripped her tightly, her wide-open eyes, brightly green, glared at them, angry and aware. They moved the trough in place and tipped the cauldron. As the lead touched her body, she shrieked, the sound bouncing around the small chamber, unable to escape.
The enchantments laid upon her broke in a moment. She moved. Wriggling free of the startled faeries, she crouched on the floor, her eyes darting between them and the lead sarcophagus. Her brow creased, her eyes widening in horror as she saw the sarcophagus and realised what they had done to her master. Her green eyes flashed, her jaw firmed, and grabbing the bracelet, she ran from the chamber, throwing off wards and spells to slow the pursuing faeries.
