Lady of The Sidhe

By Shana O'Quinn

Damosel Imerra looks for her lost son Tirnen Halfelven, and finds more than expected in that he's now in the service of an undead wizard with a chip on his shoulder. This Necromancer wants nothing more than to live again to fulfill his mission of subjugating the world of Telamon and will destroy anything that stands in his path.

Enter Imerra the Guardian and her band of unlikely companions that includes a hapless, smitten Druid, a Sorceress, a Dwarf-woman, and an Orc among others.

Enter the world of Telamon, a world already ancient and full of creatures that no longer exist. This tale is the first of an epic series of tales and stories covering this amazing, vibrant world long forgotten, where humans, or Mohrtei, are only one of a myriad sentient peoples inhabiting this post Ice Age time.

This is the first of Ages of Telamon series.

There is another book available, Secret Ones Volume 1, available here now!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Shana O'Quinn
• Release date: Jan 26, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301196500

Shana O'Quinn

Sandoz was born Shana O'Quinn and grew up in the Appalachias in the middle of absolute nowhere. Consequently, she likes to think of herself as everyone's favorite internet redneck. She loves fantasy, horror, movies with explosions, hobbits, and/or pirates in it. If you know of a hobbit pirate zombie ninja movie with lots of shit blowing up, do let us know. Sandoz loves to write stuff that entertains her. Hopefully it entertains others as well. She's currently finishing up a BA in Graphic Multimedia and Design. Cause she likes to draw shtuff.

Book preview

Lady of the Sidhe

Shana O’Quinn

Copyright 2013 by Shana O’Quinn

Smashwords Edition

We are a people apart—because of our nature and customs many find it hard to believe we love or have other feelings.  I assure you, we do.  We exert control for the reason our hearts burn hotter and longer than mortals’ do.

--Lady Genva, History of the Elvish Races 

The Red Book of Telen-ka, an infernal codex of sinister intent, was penned by an evil misbegotten mixture of Fae and mortal.  The tome is huge, taking two persons to lift and transport and bound in what appears to be red leather.  Its pages are filled with treatises, spells and incantations,  science, literature, information on faraway lands: in short, all of the knowledge the world had ever seen collected up until the point it was written.  It has carefully drawn illustrations and diagrams, dozens of rare maps, and has information on medical treatments, natural science, magic, history, and more.  

The author, Telen-ka, was the offspring of a mortal woman and an Elf prince.  He spent much of his time collecting the wisdom of the ages in a search to secure the unending life and powers of a full-blooded Sidhe.  It’s said that a portion of his lifeforce and personality he poured into it, to be a repository of power as well as information.  He eventually met his doom at the hands of a few Guardians and Rangers, who had to turn into enforcers for the safety of all the Peoples of the earth.

--Lord Danion, Chronicles of Britannia

...After many ages of living in vibrant Terra, our foster Mother, I've found that it has taken its toll on the oldest and most powerful of us. As more and more Sidhe grow weary of the Earth, where Time runs so quickly and brings about continuing growth, decay, and rebirth, and go back to their birthplace in Tir-na-Nog the Blessed Realm, those remaining do weaken and after millenia will show the passage of Time, if ever so slightly. Myself and a few discerning others after keen observation, poring over old documents and interviewing others of our kind discovered that our constitution was not made for this modern world and we were not meant to stay forever in Telamon. As the eons rolled on we would degenerate and die, since many of us have forsaken the Hidden Paths for the wonder and delight of the Mortal World.

-Tymor, Master Scribe and Magister

Chapter 1

One of Them

The tavern was warm and cozy, and quite lively, with a few rowdy Norsemen.  Some Kelts sat nursing their drinks, and paid the newcomer no mind when she entered.  The woman was dressed for travel, with well-made but worn boots and cloak, and she ordered a mug of ale from the barkeep, sat down and took a drink.  The Kelts a few tables down didn’t pay her much mind, for she was of Elven kind, and they were familiar with those of that race--glamour didn’t dazzle them.  To the average passerby she appeared for all the world like a human woman, if a bit slender and angular.  But a closer look revealed pointed ears and eyes that were more than old, they were ancient.  They were eyes that had seen countless days, seasons, years.  She looked young, but for those eyes.

Imerra--for that was her name--was enjoying her ale, glad to be someplace indoors, when a drunken man swaggered over to her.  Oh gods, she thought to herself.  Hallo, he slurred.  I just noticed you were all alone and in need of some company.  A fine lady like you doesn’t need to be out in these parts by herself.  Not all folk are as civilized as us Keltae.  Then he burped.  Just what I need, she thought, a drunken Tribesman with no idea what she was.

She stood abruptly, threw back her cloak and let the simple glamour she normally wore fall from her.  She looked nothing like a mortal woman now--she was alien, mysterious, and hard, all sharp angles and piercing, deep, deep eyes.  The man was then taken aback.  Do you deign to patronize me? she demanded of him.  You know what I am.  Any Tribesman would.

Oh I know you, Lady, he stammered. I know what you are.  One of Them.  I am sorry, very sorry. I meant no insult. He blushed and bowed before her. He had never seen a person's eyes glitter like that, or have seen the unearthly sheen of her hair.  It was like spun silver, thick and wavy, and caught the firelight in an unsettling way.  He had never seen any of the Sidhe folk before, but now he wouldn't mistake one again.

Rise, she spoke, putting the glamour back in place. Perhaps you can help me. I am looking for someone.

Imerra stopped in front of the cave opening and looked around.  Hm, she said to herself.  This is where the man said it was…though it wasn’t like the owner to use a simple cave. It wasn’t his usual style.  Sidhe had taken to keeping themselves hidden as more and more humans spread into those hitherto rural and rarely populated areas.  Fairy mounds were now dotted liberally across the countryside of Eire and Albion.  She stood for a moment, and decided that the old ways must hold true here.  She thumped her staff, her magickal aid and walking stick, on the ground three times, and called out in her mind the question and demand.  Enter, and be welcome, came the reply. She stepped though the cave entrance and was greeted with torchlight.  A Gnome servant conducted her to a spacious, nicely appointed room to wait.  The owner had the place decorated in a mixture of Eastern and Western fashion, Imerra noted as she waited.

Ahh, Damosel Imerra, greeted a familiar voice, and she turned to see the speaker.  He was a Djinn, Eastern cousin of the Sidhe.  What a pleasant surprise.  Do sit down.

Good old Rakiem, Imerra spoke.  How are you? She saw that he was dressed as a Briton; heavy breeches, linen shirt, leather boots. He seemed comfortable.

Everything is good, as I am prosperous and safe here in my exile, he replied, his dark eyes searching her face. But I am curious, it has been many years since last we met. Though I appreciate a visit from a beautiful lady, I wonder why you come to me now.

Imerra looked away from him. "It is my son. I haven't seen him