Book of Remembrance: Iníon

By PC McKay

When Faé and humans alike battle a dark shadow that threatens everything truthful and pure.
Iníon battles dark shadows in her quest to find out who she is and where she belongs amidst a greater battle.
With new Cover by A. Herron

• Language: English
• Publisher: PC McKay
• Release date: Jul 21, 2021
• ISBN: 9780620950329

PC McKay

PC McKay is a 53 year old author who loves to dabble in various creative outlets.She is a Creative at heart and has many more stories to tell.

Book preview

PREFACE

The forest was unending and silent. A tendril of white weaved through the trees and merged into the fog. The undergrowth hung heavy with moisture. The lone call of an owl briefly disrupted the silence as the silvery grey blanket gathered among the dark trunks of vast trees, enfolding the forest floor.

The fog swirled – a movement had disturbed its gathering. A broken shape staggered through the forest. Bare bruised feet stumbled over gnarled roots and a lone figure stopped to lean against the dripping bark of an ancient oak.

Indigo eyes stared blankly from beneath the hood of a muddied cloak. The heavy fabric obscured a young woman’s face as long, filthy hair clung to smeared cheeks. Exhausted, she dropped to her knees on the wet forest floor - white-knuckled hands gripping the pommel of a battle-pitted sword. It pierced the earth before her as she sagged against it.

Heaving deep, laboured breaths, she looked up at the midnight sky. The hood slipped back, revealing a face scarred with years of pain and loss. A memory stirred her heart; hold lightly to the sword, daughter. The warmth of an embrace, the warmth of home… slipping into darkness as she slumped heavily to the ground.

___________________

The quick, staccato trill of a flute. Birdsong. The rustle of leaves on the breeze.

Eyes open to the green-toned silhouette of treetops against an azure sky.

A cup held to cracked lips – pure, sweet water trickling down a parched throat.

Fragrant food pressed against an unresisting mouth – tasting the sharp, life-giving flavours.

All fading into darkness.

Twice more the music, twice more the food and drink, and twice more the twilight enfolded her.

___________________

CHAPTER 1

A large fire crackled unheeded in an expansive library, chasing ever deepening shadows down the aged, crumbling spines of the books.

Warmed, mulled ale swirled in two goblets as they rose and fell, punctuating the argument of the men sitting either side of the hearth.

You know I'm right! They will not stop until they have overthrown the Kingdom. Anwir slammed his goblet down on the table beside his chair. Act now or all will be lost!

I agree brother, but you would have me massacre whole families, on the off chance they might have traitors hiding among them. Pearce shook his head slowly, I will not sanction that.

Then don't! Anwir rose angrily, glaring into the other's face as he spat: I will flush them out! Tell your Queen that you knew nothing about it, if that allays your sensibilities.

NO! Pearce's voice thundered with authority as he straightened in his chair. You will do nothing!

Anwir's tall, battle-hardened shape towered over his kinsman, knowing well that the only authority he held was at the hands of this man - childhood friend, brother-in-arms, trusted companion. Seething inside he bent his knee and lowered his head; As you wish. Scathingly he ground through gritted teeth: My King.

Pearce sighed deeply and placed his hand on Anwir's shoulder.

Anwir we have gone over this before, and I know you only wish to protect my family and Kingdom, but there is a better way. A way where no innocents will be hurt, and the fiends will be caught. Alive, God willing. I would rather broker peace with them if we can.

In one motion Anwir shrugged off Pearce's hand and reared up. Spittle clinging to his beard he raged:

You delude yourself if you think the Delff want peace, brother! They are creatures of doom. You have seen yourself how they disguise their deceit behind facades of beauty. He turned his back to Pearce. Glaring into the flames he lowered his voice.

Your own healers could be infiltrated by them for all we know. Will you wait until the only remains of your family are maimed corpses?

Anwir, enough! You will not do anything without my order! Is that understood? Pearce rose when Anwir did not turn around and strode to stand next to his friend.

There is a better way. The Faé Queen has agreed to assist us.

Anwir rounded violently: You would trust that creature before your own kinsmen? You would take counsel from... His face twisted in disgust as words failed him.

Mustering all his considerable powers of persuasion, the king attempted once more to make his point; They are part of this Kingdom and Court brother, and they are the only ones able to see through the deceit of the Delff.

Anwir's only response was a contemptuous snarl as he turned and stormed from the room.

Sighing deeply, Pearce sank into the welcoming depths of the armchair. Keenly feeling every day of his 32 years, he raised the mulled ale to his lips and drank deeply as he attempted to divine the future in the flames.

CHAPTER 2

A different fire crackled in a different hearth. The dwelling was half hidden in the forest. Dark shapes, half glimpsed, suggested others – only the stab of light from below doors and the lazy rise of smoke proved the village real.

The six Elders had gathered in the main room of the Master Healer, Rendeal.

Rendeal and his wife, Novline, shared a deep wooden bench next to the hearth. His long, silver hair flowed across wide shoulders ensconced in a thick, earth toned tunic. Mischievous, dark eyes contrasted with the pale hair, and a prominent nose towered above the cascade of facial hair flowing from his cheeks and chin. Novline’s hair was the same venerable shade as her husband's - but short and curly in contrast to his long, straight mane. Where he was big and brawny she was slim and petite in a woollen shift dress.

A second bench, across from the fire, was occupied by Laicsum and his wife, Leodym – the Flute Masters. The olive green of Laicsum’s leggings barely covered his ankles as he stretched his absurdly long legs towards the heat of the fire. Leodym relaxed in the crook of his arm. Short and homely, her head only just reaching her tall, wiry husband’s shoulder - she sat wrapped in a brown shawl.

The village Administrator, Fardeq, stood behind the last couch in the room. A fine woollen cloak hung from his corpulent frame. His heavily pregnant Healer wife, Nashé, shared the couch with her younger brother Bryn, an apprentice Healer.

Bryn was a lanky young man, handsome and strong. He sat on the edge of the couch, holding the hem of his muddied tunic towards the hearth to dry and staring into the fire as he habitually chewed his fingernails.

Laicsum broke the silence.

Bryn. The young man lifted his gaze from the flames to Laicsum’s face.

You found her. What do you say?

Bryn’s eyes twinkled as he smiled. Well, she is pretty.

At this he felt Nashé’s sharp elbow