Isle of Apples (Copper & Cobalt, #3)

By J. Conrad

Book Three of The Copper & Cobalt Trilogy – A story of friendship, time travel and haunting adventure in ancient Wales.

Bridget and Celena have shared a painful connection with Paul for thousands of years due to a tragedy in the ancient world – a crime that Bridget is still paying for today. What's done is done; she doesn't know how to erase the injustice. She does know that with magic stemming from the Isle of Apples, she can somehow change time, create a new future and fulfill a promise she made to the Goddess.

The girls use an otherworldly portal to delve deep into the past for answers of exactly what to do. What is “The Forever Tree” and what do mysterious clay tablets reveal about their quest? How can they convince Paul to journey with them to the Isle to set things right when he's bent only on making them suffer? Bridget learns that sometimes answers are found in the most unexpected ways – and from the most unexpected people. In an uncharted realm governed by different rules, she witnesses trust, magic and faith overcome adversity as a painful history draws to a close.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J. Conrad
• Release date: Jul 13, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310121579

J. Conrad

Originally from St. Louis, Missouri, I now live in the southern US with my husband, John Michael. I've loved writing ever since I was a child and enjoy creating imaginative stories with realistic characters that readers can relate to.

Book preview

ISLE OF APPLES

J. CONRAD

BOOK THREE

of the

COPPER & COBALT

TRILOGY

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2014 J. Conrad.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

This is a work of fiction. While references might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

AUTHOR’S NOTE

This book has a glossary. Foreign terms, names of locations and some common words which may be misunderstood can be found in the glossary, unless they are otherwise defined in the text.

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Find out more here: J. Conrad Fantasy

ACKNOWLEDGMENT

I would like to extend my sincere appreciation to Sel Felin of Gwynedd, Cymru,* for his guidance in the usage of Welsh words and phrases, direction regarding important events in Welsh history and helpful feedback on Isle of Apples. His enthusiastic support of this trilogy has encouraged me every step of the way. Sel is proud to be a Cymro* who is still in awe of his country.

Cymru: Wales

Cymro: Welshman

TABLE OF CONTENTS

AUTHOR'S NOTE

CHAPTER ONE: Avalon

CHAPTER TWO: Paul

CHAPTER THREE: Talsarnau

CHAPTER FOUR: The Man in Black

CHAPTER FIVE: The Cromlech

CHAPTER SIX: Presentation Day

CHAPTER SEVEN: The Trial

CHAPTER EIGHT: Jake

CHAPTER NINE: A Sunless Sky

CHAPTER TEN: The Forever Tree

CHAPTER ELEVEN: The Red Dragon

CHAPTER TWELVE: Five Years Later

GLOSSARY

CHAPTER ONE: AVALON

Bridget and her best friend Celena stood across from each other in the mystical grove. They each held a golden apple which they had just picked up from the ground in disbelief. A long chain of events had led them to the Isle of Apples. It was an otherworldly place which was supposed to exist only in legend. Surrounding them was the splendor of the enchanted orchard: delicately formed apple trees with silvery trunks, glossy dark green leaves and sturdy branches laden with their priceless fruit. Each apple was made of solid gold—an exotic gold. This was what they had been searching for. The apples could be melted down and formed into keys and amulets to control the portal system of the otherworld—the portal that enabled travel into the past and allowed teleportation to anywhere on Earth.

Although there were no blossoms now, the fragrant scent still lingered. Bridget inhaled the sweet smell of flowers. Beneath their feet was a lush, thick covering of grass. It thinned out only slightly where it met the first tree roots in the grove.

Celena hadn’t said a word since she picked up her first apple. Her long, curly brown hair was windblown and tumbled from running. She smiled a little but was still wide-eyed and speechless.

It’s Avalon, Bridget said. She looked at the apple trees and noticed birds and insects flitting through the branches. What did they eat in such a place?

What? asked Celena quietly. She blinked a few times and looked up, her bright blue eyes focusing on Bridget.

Avalon, repeated Bridget. Isle of Apples: it’s Avalon. The place where King Arthur’s sword was forged and where he was buried. Ever hear that story?

Yeah, I’ve heard some of it. Is it true?

Well, I don’t know if that story’s true. Bridget laughed. But this is definitely Avalon!

She bent down and picked up a second apple, now holding one in each hand. They were very heavy, solid and shone brightly even though there was no sun. That was another mystery of this place. Neither of them could tell how the sky and land were illuminated. It appeared to be daylight, but there was no source of light.

With the objects of their search finally in hand, they were now given the task of figuring out what to do with them. This was one of the many riddles left to solve.

It was hard not to linger in the enchanted orchard. The unbelievable beauty of the trees, their sweet aroma and the peaceful feel of the place made it tempting to stay. Reluctantly, they turned away from the grove and went back the way they had come. They crossed the field of vibrant, lush grass, waded through the little stream and came out onto the quiet moorland. It eventually led to the hill with its strange, yet charming, window. It was odd to see the square cutout against the grassy hillside, but this was the only way to enter the room inside the mound. It was that room which allowed them access to the Isle of Apples.

Bridget and Celena wriggled through the little window one at a time. The walls and ceiling of the interior chamber were made of nothing more than beams and sod. There was a dirt floor overlaid with straw and a table in the center. On the table lay the key-making equipment, none of which they knew how to use yet. One item was a small, oblong metal dish. It was shiny bronze, very clean, and about two inches deep. Inside was a greyish, powdery substance. Next to the dish was a flat piece of black iron with a hinge in the middle. It had an indentation that measured about two inches by one-half inch in the middle of each side. The bottom of the indentation was not smooth, but rough-hewn, with many lines, marks and areas of different depths. There was also a mortar and pestle made of iron, a silver pot and a long-handled metal spoon. The girls each set two apples on the table next to the implements.

Well, Celena began. There’s the pot. She pointed to the black kettle. So, I guess we put the gold in there, then put the kettle over a fire?

I don’t know, said Bridget. I don’t think a regular fire would be hot enough to melt metal. Wouldn’t we need something like a blacksmith’s forge? There was nothing like that here.

I honestly don’t know either, answered Celena. And once we melt it down, what do we do with it? Put it in this mold? She indicated the heavy iron instrument next to the pot. That looks like it’s for making a portal key, just like the little rock we already have.

Yeah, but I don’t think that’s going to help us. That probably isn’t what we need to make, since we already have one of those and it hasn’t solved the problem.

Celena sighed, shook her head and looked over everything on the table again.

Bridget took a step back and sat down in the straw to think.

There was a bit of information they had received that would help with this, she just had to recall what it was. It seemed like there should be something to point them in the right direction. Just before coming here, they had gone back to ancient Wales, to 500 BC, as the people they had been in that time. Celena was Anwyn, Chieftain Orwen’s daughter, and Bridget was Enid, raised as her attendant. She remembered the lengthy conversation they had when they returned to the present, prior to when they left Celena’s room on their way to the Space Between Worlds. That was the place of greyness and rushing winds which contained the trap door leading to the Isle of Apples.

Celena, when you were telling me what Orwen told you—about how he was visited by a dark foreigner—didn’t you say that the stranger brought chests full of clay tablets? I mean, I know we already found two chests in Llyn Dywarchen and one of them was empty, but we know there are more at the bottom of the lake. If we could get our hands on some of those tablets, maybe we’ll find the answer to what to do with the gold.

Celena’s eyes lit up. Yes. It shouldn’t be that hard to find them since we pulled out those two others on vacation.

Yeah, one was empty though. I just hope that wasn’t the chest that contained the answer.

With our luck it would be, Celena said. But there were five chests total. Three should contain tablets. Only one way to find out though.

They took the four gleaming, magical golden apples and placed them in Bridget’s bag. Their navigation string was still attached to the table leg where Celena had tied it, and it fed upwards and disappeared through the trap door in the ceiling. One could see the door from below while standing in the room, but above, in the Space Between Worlds, it was invisible. There was only the slate floor, devoid of any sign of opening or outline. The string led back to the otherworldly menhir that allowed a person to do many things, such as travel in time and change physical form. The standing stone had become their guidepost there.

By standing on the table, Bridget and Celena were able to pull themselves up through the trap door. They could see the grey slate floor through the cutout and although it looked quite solid, it was insubstantial. Their bodies went straight through. After a moment of wiggling and pulling themselves up, they stood in the Space Between Worlds.

It was a land of nothingness, of swirling, grey clouds and rushing winds which went on in all directions. They had never found out how far it went. Celena took the string in her hand and let it feed through her fingers as they walked. When they left for the otherworld from Celena’s garage, they had planned on going back home after this trip. They had been sure that the answers they were looking for would be evident on the Isle of Apples. Now they had more questions than ever.

And out of all the tablets, Orwen really couldn’t read any of them? Bridget asked. She wondered if they would encounter the same problem.

No, not really, replied Celena. Except a part that showed he was supposed to give the necklaces to us and keep the key hidden. The clay tablets had pictographs on them, which Orwen couldn’t decipher.

Pictographs—but not cuneiform? asked Bridget.

No, it wasn’t cuneiform. It’s true that from Orwen’s description the foreigner sounded like he came from ancient Sumer, but he must have known that no one in Wales at that time would have been likely to be able to read it. So, I guess he did his best to make instructions with pictures and lines. Or at least, it seemed like the tablets contained instructions. I don’t know what else they would be.

Okay, Bridget said thoughtfully as they followed the string. So, there should be three chests still at the bottom of the lake. But if they’re not there anymore, or the tablets have disintegrated… maybe we should go back to ancient times, when Orwen first received the chests; before he submerged them in Laku Ura. We can bring them back to the present and try to read the tablets at home. If we do it that way maybe they will be legible.

Good idea, agreed Celena. That will be much easier.

Bridget was quiet for a moment. There’s something else. I need to think. I know there’s something else we need, something else I should remember.

You mean besides magic gold, ancient clay tablets and now the Isle of Apples, which we’ve actually discovered to be a real place? Celena teased.

Bridget laughed. Yes! Oh— She stopped and looked at Celena, who was forced to halt momentarily too.

Bridget continued excitedly. The artifacts that were in one of the bronze chests we pulled out of Llyn Dywarchen. Remember? One sliced golden apple was in there, and the plate—and the daggers! Do you think those things will have a part to play in all this?

Celena nodded as she recalled their incredible find from the depths of the Welsh lake. I’m sure they will, but I don’t really see how we can use them since they’re locked up tight in the Gwynedd museum. At least they’re safe.

I think you’re right, said Bridget. Well, we can just keep them in mind, then. For now.

They hurried on, following the taught string. The menhir came into view amidst the swirling grey clouds. The string was still tied securely around its middle. The girls would leave it there so that they could easily find the trap door again in the future. Bridget checked the knot to make sure it wasn’t coming loose.

Celena held the key in her open palm and quietly regarded it. Bridget knew she was formulating the mental instructions to direct it when and where to send them. They both had mastered this art after some trial and error and several misadventures. They needed to go back to ancient Wales as children to gain access to the tablets, as that was the time in which Orwen, Anwyn’s father, had received them.

Bridget and Celena had learned so much since first finding the necklaces. It would have been an extraordinary task last summer, but it was not all that difficult now. Celena appeared as Anwyn in 500 BC and smuggled the three chests containing tablets out of Orwen’s chamber. She delivered them to Bridget, who took them through the ring cairn in modern-day Snowdonia. Bridget half-expected to see Paul waiting for her. She was relieved when she found herself alone. Then they used the key to return themselves and their plunder to Bridget’s room in St. Louis. It took two trips to bring all three chests as they were heavy and awkward to carry.

Now their newly acquired wealth was all spread out on the carpet for their inspection: three bronze chests containing pictographic tablets and four golden apples, shining cheerily on the floor in the light from the window.

The available floor space was only big enough to lay out the contents of one chest at a time. Bridget was careful to keep the tablets in order in case that was important. They sat back and looked at the first twelve. It was no wonder that Orwen said he couldn’t decipher them.

What do you think? Bridget asked.

Celena shook her head. Don’t know. Looks like gibberish to me.

Yeah, Bridget agreed.

The tablets were etched with lots of little shapes, symbols, crude representations of people making simple motions, lines, dots and figures. Presumably there was a way in which the girls should read these things, but they didn’t know how. In ancient Sumer, cuneiform was read from left to right during the time she and Raia were there—around 2100 BC. They both assumed the tablets came from someone in Sumer, based on Orwen’s description of the stranger who brought them. Should they try to read these symbols that way, like the people in ancient Sumer would have done? The only trouble was, the drawings weren’t cuneiform, and they weren’t meant for the people of that region. They were placed there to be read by a Celtic tribal chieftain in ancient Wales whose village had no written language at all. It also couldn’t be overlooked that Sumer did not exist by the time 500 BC rolled around, the age when Orwen received these gifts.

Bridget sighed loudly and didn’t bother relating all that to Celena, who was probably thinking similar things herself anyway. They kept scanning until they found one promising set of symbols, something they could recognize: a dagger cutting into a ball—or more likely, an apple—and the apple shown segmented into eight pieces. The girls continued studying this way as they picked out bits and pieces that seemed significant or useful somehow, with Bridget taking notes as needed.

The daggers could apparently cut the magical gold. The gold could be placed in the iron kettle and melted. They couldn’t find a symbol for fire, though; it seemed the pot was to be placed on some round or disk-like object. Perhaps a special stone? Then the gold could be poured into the mold with pulverized slate added. This must be the way to make keys, or at least a part of it.

A few other tablets seemed to show the necessity of hiding all the artifacts. These were actually much easier to read than the first batch, or perhaps they were at this point because of all that Celena and Bridget had seen in the past. Clearly depicted was the invasion of Kassrikmagon, the mass burning in the cave, and the use of amulets in passing through the ring cairn. Orwen must not have understood that this was a forewarning of what was to befall the settlement.

The next two sets of twelve were both very difficult, even more so than the first. The symbols of significance that Bridget and Celena found were a lake (or maybe it was a river?) and a pit of some kind, with water or fire in it (hard to discern which), a basket heaped with golden apples, a human body descending into a trench or hole and a mountain range. Bridget wrote it all in her notebook and Celena sketched each next to its description.

And what’s that? Bridget asked. She pointed to an etching that reminded her of the first time she and Celena started researching. It seemed like eons ago, when they were trying to find Llyn Caerwych. She remembered how they sat in the library viewing pictures of lakes and prehistoric stone monuments.

Some megaliths with a roof, like a little house? Celena asked.

It did look like some kind of megalithic structure: upright stones which formed crude walls with a large, flat slab placed across the top of them. They searched online for pictures of anything similar.

It looks like that’s a ‘cromlech,’ Bridget said as Celena peered over her shoulder. It’s a tomb.

Seems important. Makes me think of your King Arthur story, Celena said.

She picked up the notebook and jotted down, Cromlech: a megalithic tomb in Wales, and put a drawing beside it. It was nice to have an artist around at times like these.

And this? Bridget asked, pointing to another symbol. Looks like a dragon.

"Yeah, I saw that too. It probably is a