Enter the Fey

By Carole Weave Lane

Beguilingly the beckoning air drew them towards the pathway. Crossing the busy road that separated them from the house they stepped upon the green grass the grasslands that once Bourke and Wills the famous explorers who had departed from the parklands in 1861 to cross the interior of Australia, unfortunately to their doom, she recalled and hope that this was not an omen. This was not a comforting thought at this time. Above the ravens had risen, their wings outstretched and they cawed to each other, Sadorn watched them suspiciously and the spirits soared above them.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris AU
• Release date: Jan 13, 2017
• ISBN: 9781524517694

Carole Weave Lane

Carole Weave Lane was born in Melbourne and became a teacher after much travelling. She moved to Perth and now resides by the Swan River with her pets. She is a member of the OBOD and she loves to tell and write stories.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Fey Awakes

Trapped on one world in both present and past where one time influences the other.

According to an ancient prophecy dating back to a timeless past that has come full term in the fourth Century AD in the Land of Merlin’s Enclosure Cerridwen, the White Goddess has placed a vanquishing spell upon the Tribe of Tua Fa Em, residing in hamlet of Electon.

It read, "That from this day forth all their lands, and all, human or non- human beings, formed or unformed species etc, who lived therein to their far borders of the North to the South to the West and to the East would be sent forth to another time space. Included in this list are Princess Brighid, daughter of King Peradur of Dragonia and Lord Myrddin, Head Merlin of the Earthly Plains, High Steward in the realms of Chrysdragontail. His entourage of Druids to accompany them.

These dire measures were a form of retribution against the savagery exhibited by Roman Renegades upon the defenseless tribe and to unidentified beings as yet unknown who may exist or be amongst the tribe. They all exhibited brutality which further led to deaths of the tribe’s three Elder Druids. The singling out for a culprit by the tribe upon Prince Bran, trainee Bard was a senseless act. As a consequence his sister Princess Brighid was accused to being a Witch and responsible for his death which was utter nonsense and that their father would be informed of the situation and possibly declare war upon the tribe. She continued reading until she reached the final sentence. Upon drawing a deep breath she added: ’That she also would not forgive those who had plundered the Sacred Cave of the Faery with a view to stealing their treasures and causing physical harm to all inside.’

Within her sacred cauldron, she chanted the spell and stirred the seething waters until it was done. A cracking of the earth below severed the land and as it rose into the sky above. She promised that in time she would bring forth a Seeker to take home the innocent but in the meantime, the world as they knew it would no longer exist and they would need to fend for themselves in foreign parts.

It is 2003, in Bournemouth UK and Birgit de Merlinus, is 21 years of age, and an Orphan. She is a University student and is about to experience a series of frightening and brutal Past Life experiences that she will not cope with. As we meet with her she is taking a walk along the river as part of her Birthday presents with her friends Brendan and Cherrie. Unbeknown to her she is observed by several Ravens who are planning when they will intervene to awaken her ‘forgotten powers’. As a consequence of this experience her Nightmares induced by the Dream Diva begin. The dreams become reality so that she fights a battle to distinguish facts from reality. Her studies suffer and it appears she will be denied her dream of becoming a student at Oxford and be able to follow in the steps of her parents, who were Lecturers and both Archeologists. They are deceased.

As a trainee Witch who is about to be initiated she enters into the world of the Goddess and the Fey who entrap her.

When her High Priestess the Lady Moonfeather does a Tarot Reading for her she confirms that Birgit is The Seeker and that the Goddess has a quest for her to embark upon and that her life will not be the same. She also informs her that she would soon receive a letter and she could see her travelling out of the country.

To her amazement the prophecies come true as a letter arrives from her Aunt in Melbourne Australia, sister to her deceased mother who extends an offer to meet with her family and stay awhile. Professor Pie her lecturer, decides to give her another chance in view of her proven excellent status. They were in the form of four essays to be given within a time frame on designated topics. If the essays produce her former standard of A+ for each of them, all would be well. She is overjoyed and, as a consequence books her ticket.

Within a few weeks, with the fondest assurances of Lady Moonfeather, her husband Lord Grey Wolf, her friend Cherrie, (Lady Freya and Brendan (Lord Friar) suggest that she needs to follow her heart she is content. She is given masses of homework for her Wiccan studies as well, and as she departs for the Heathrow Airport. They are followed by Autumnal leaves that transform into pixies that attach themselves to the back window of the car and poke their tongues out at her. They all considered it an omen, and as Birgit boards the plan she finds several leaves sticking to her feet,. Once she sits down they transform to pixies and fade away though they reassume their leaf shapes when she arrives in Melbourne.

ENTER THE Fey – Now in Melbourne further unrest awaits her as she is to stays with relatives whom she has never met. She is embraced by the Sprits of the House who ensnare her and there is not a dull moment nor time to catch her breath as she once again flits from one adventure to another until as the story unfolds at Samhain or All Hallows. She sets put upon the path that Bourke and Wills took as they began their quest in 1860 so many years ago. But the ancient ones watching her every step, allow her to follow it for a certain distance when they intervene, thus her journey begins. That is revealed in the third book which will be The Cauldron Boils – set in another time frame.

CHAPTER ONE

The Realm of the Sylphs

Of all the trees that grow so fair

Old England to adorn

Greater are none beneath the sun

Than Oak and Ash and Thorn

(Puck of Pook’s Hill by Rudyard Kipling 1906)

Not a wizard was in sight, curled within his dark cloak held tight, eyes flashing beams of light, nor ravens black as night as Birgit de Merlinus, entered the plane destined for Melbourne. Her long auburn hair fell around her like slithering snakes, sparking in all directions. Quickly, she gathered her belongings to her, conscious of being swept along by an unseen breeze along the passage way of the crowded plane. Self-consciously, she did so her eyes averted from watchful and interested passengers as she did not like attention thrust upon her. At last, the air hostess halted indicating her seat by a window; her home for the next couple of days. Like a broom she was propelled across a middle aged women and swept unceremoniously into her seat. She found herself quickly removing her charges, the small laptop, her book ‘The Mists of Avalon’ her USB connection and a notebook and biros.

Then she handed across her precious, long black coat to the Air Hostess and watched nervously as it was placed in the luggage compartment above her. The air hostess smiled at her said I hope you will be comfortable. Please ring the bell if you require anything further. Birgit nodded before she turned and walked back towards the cockpit.

With a sense of knowing, but not of seeing, she felt the plane door close. If she could have sunk any lower into her seat she would have done so. Alas, her imprint was now nailed into the perfect coffin and encased into her seat belt. Her ankle length winter green skirt with pale green leaves at the hem pressed tightly around her. Presently she felt a rumble of thunder beneath her as the wheels whirled upon the tarmac until the plane lifted off into the air, rising higher and higher. Sighing, she surrendered to her calling.

With a heavy heart she recalled the day when she was given the news that her father and mother had died in a plane crash in South America and thus they did not make the ‘Dig’ that, had taken them away from her forever and she was left to vegetate in a loathsome boarding school until 18 years of age. She hated planes for this reason as she felt a gurgling in her throat and stomach. Closing her eyes she firmly placed her loving ‘dockers’ onto the plane floor. Frowning, she felt movement under them.

She felt her feet slide away as if they were being lifted up. Frowning, she peered down to find she was looking at a handful of miniature beings of no more than eleven inches in height, dressed in tiny outfits resembling the miniature Robin Hood, his merry men and maids. She had brought with her a small army of the shape shifting leaves that had stuck themselves to the back window of Lord Grey Wolf’s Citroen. They had shapeshifted into pixies, if that was their correct term for she could not think of another name for them. She could have sworn, they were shouting at her for they were standing upright, their arms up above their heads and were pounding their fists at her. Their mouths were creating shapes at her which she did not understand at all.

‘Oh dear, could anyone else hear them. How could I explain their presence.’ she thought. With haste she swirled about to see if their antics had attracted attention. Her heart beat faster. The woman two seats way was fully engaged in a conversation with a young woman who sat in the aisle seat across from her who looked vaguely familiar. She was not looking at her at all. Her sense of relief was short lived for she felt the impact of something sharp being jabbed into her left leg. Ouch, she muttered in disbelief as she pulled out a tiny blood-stained miniature sword. Tied to it was a thorn.

Rage was building inside her and she breathed out several times to contain herself. You little imps, she said fiercely, dabbing at the small wound. Why do you wish to hurt me? They ignored her pleas for a few of the males held arrows and were placing them into bows aimed at herself and were levitating upwards and downwards.

‘This is like a dream,’ she mused for she hoped that it was not a recurrence of the dreams that had always plagued her and certainly not on the plane. What have I done to you all?" she pleaded, muttering under her breath fixing them with a glare. She was Gulliver and they the Lilliputians, she thought as she endeavoured to keep her cool. They appeared to have found this act very amusing and were bending over laughing, pointing up at her and stamping their feet. Realising defeat and gritting her teeth, she hunched over hoping she would not find an arrow in her hand for her trouble, demanding in a low voice: ‘What do you want?’ In reply, they muttered in their tongue chattering amongst themselves, and it appeared by their actions that they were quite agitated and threw out their arms at her as if they were punching her. Like the speed of light, they upped and flew above her and the light from the dying sun shone through the window glittering upon their tiny wings. Upon her laptop three leaves gracefully landed upon it. She stared at their shapes and fingered them. Three individual leaves: one was the Thorn, the other an Ash leaf, the third an shrivelled Oak. Sitting back in her seat, still as a statue, coldness entering her heart as if she had been shot through it. She mused upon the situation. The message was quite clear. The Dark Fae were abroad, they were watching her.

Stunned, she took hold of the crystal housed around her neck that had been placed there at birth. Magick, held it firmly in place and could not be removed by any Witch, Wizard or those of the Dark Fae. The crystal had a mind of its own. It could flair and heat up emitting colour and it hid behind it the Trifecta, the symbol of the Goddess. As she stroked it the words of her High Priestess, Lady Moonfeather or Lady M, as she was fondly called rang out. If you have need of me, just hold your crystal for a wee while until I link with you. This she did forming a picture of her as she had last seen her at the Airport as she waved her goodbye. ‘Be calm. Be calm.’ She repeated to herself as the crystal throbbed with life and her fingers beat with a life of their own until she was breathing normally. With difficulty she peered through the small window in the hope of finding Lady M and Lord Grey Wolf, Cherrie and Brendan bidding her Bon Voyage. She was in the air now but she could not prevent herself from giving a little wave, a flutter and a sickly smile to the empty space. Sadly, she thought, ‘I am on my own now’ and what began as an exciting adventure may very well turn into a misadventure.

With a quick look at her feet she was relieved to see the pixies, if that was what they were, had moved away and were fluttering somewhere else in the plane. What their purpose was she may never learn but in the meantime she had homework to do and she opened the page 250 of her book ‘The Mists of Avalon’ and upon reading a few lines she reminisced that life was more simple in the days of Avalon, where one rode horses along cliff tops and cantered into the old forests, crossed lakes in flat boats that were locked into swirling mists. Here she remained until she was conscious that someone was calling her name.

She paused, not unfamiliar with its timbre, another memory of the past opening up to her. She inclined her head to address it.

"I’m sorry to bother you dear but you are Birgit de Merlinus are you not? The words themselves a command not a question built up a picture. ‘What,’ she thought angrily and faced the heavily built woman bulging outwardly seated two seats from her. With rising annoyance in her soul the owner of the voice silkily slid back into its proper time frame as the remembered image of Mrs Sparrow formed in front of her.

‘Oh my goddess,’ Birgit grimaced to herself.

Replying somewhat rudely, "Yes I am’, her chin up and an angry glint forming in her green eyes for she was presently annoyed at being disturbed from her reveries of the days of Avalon. She bit her tongue knowing that she had no idea of what to say and feeling utterly defenceless in her remembrance of this overpowering lady. She had to face her this she knew and with a supreme effort she fixed her gaze upon the face of the ever inquisitive Mrs Sparrow. Time stood still and she felt the discomfort her mother did in her presence. She queried, how was it possible after all these years that she was to meet up with her again. After a few minutes of conjecturing, she came to the conclusion that it was fate. Therefore, she decided she would not allow Mrs Sparrow to overpower her. She took a deep breath and faced the Town gossip, whose caustic tongue had upset many folk when her parents were alive. At the same time she could not be disrespectful.

With initiative, she forced herself to look at the lady as if wondering who she was and falsely replied, ‘Mrs. Sparrow, isn’t it! Fancy seeing you on this plane and after all this time! She was too polite to say, ‘I hardly recognised you but I recognised your voice,’ but she kept upon her face a pleasant expression though she was wary inside and drummed her fingers upon the seat.

Mrs Sparrow, appeared to be a model of refinement and sensibility as she patted down the sleeves of a pale pink cashmere coloured twinset, with an ironed pleat in both unruffled sleeves. This action drew Birgit to observe her more carefully. Her pale blue knitted straight skirt covered her knees. Heavy pale brown stockings were engulfed in brown sensible walking shoes. Such a sign of respectability she was and, of course, around her neck hung a string of crème pearls. Each pearl was exquisitely knotted between each one, indicating it to be authentic. Birgit waited for her to reopen the conversation once more.

I was unsure if it was really you my dear, she whistled through a new pair of dentures gleaming through thin red painted lips. ‘Oh, is that so,’ murmured Birgit seething at being called ‘my dear.’

‘Young gals change so much today with dying their hair, and the wearing if makeup," she said as she peered at Birgit’s natural auburn, more red than auburn hair then at her lack of made up face. Birgit cringed. Whereas Mrs Sparrow’s plump parchment textured face supported several chins and her bright little eyes reminded Birgit of a monkey. She possessed the mind of one too as her eyes darted everywhere and she was a malicious gossip. I hope Karma visits her sooner than later thought Birgit grimly.

‘Of course you never did visit me but I put it down to sorrow you know after the untimely death of your parents. Of course, we all knew you had been looked after by your guardian. But I said to my Bertie, ‘God rest his soul,’ and took a breath. ‘When Celebrities die in such a way there will always be talk won’t there dear?’ She paused, ‘Of course he agreed with me, and he just shook his head in agreement.’

However, I was sent to Boarding School and never left the grounds until I was 18, so that absence may explain that omission Mrs Sparrow, she said with gentle hint of mockery.

Oh I see, she replied huffily lifting her enormous bosom up. In that case you are excused my dear but you know how people talk. Why I never thought so for a moment, but one can be persuaded by others to accept their views, she tut tutted.

Yes, I suppose so, Birgit answered in a quiet tone, lengthening her green light jumper that Cherrie had insisted she wear. After all, she had said to her, You don’t want your Aunt’s family to think you a ‘Beatnik’ do you?"

‘Beatnik, what’s a beatnik?" she answered stunned.

It’s a 60’s turn of phrase meaning someone very, very unusual, particularly in their mode of dress.

So, I think if we just wear something lighter than black it will give your relatives a better impression. Your cousin Cecilia is probably ‘out there in fashion,’ you know.’ Well, if you really think so," she replied dubiously looking at the bizarre attire than Cherrie was wont to wear.

Just leave it to me, replied Cherrie, sorting through her meagre clothes and had produced the long green skirt and top to match. Look it even matches your eyes.

‘It was true, as her eyes were an unusual shade of green, known to change colour if she got mad at all. She brought her attention back to Mrs Sparrow. She had moved on to talking about the boarding school, ‘St Brighid’s school for girls in Ireland where I’m sure the good Sisters took care of you there.’ She took a breath, not waiting for a reply from Birgit and plunged into discussing her parent’s old home in Cornwall. As far as Birgit was concerned the less that was spoken of her school the better so she was rather pleased not to give a reply as she listened to Mrs Sparrow discuss it.

Now fancy selling the house to that nice Colonel Smitherbones and his family. I can’t imagine what your Solicitor was thinking. It is not as though you needed the money is it!

Birgit jumped in quite irate at this kind of silliness being spread around the village. Sell, no you have your facts wrong there I’m afraid. It is rented out and I still have quarters and spend most of my holidays there since I commenced my studies at University. I like to make it a base so I can Sightsee for I often do day trips and go further down the coast to Land’s End or to the Moors. In fact, do what I like Mrs Sparrow. I am an adult I am allowed to do that you know.

‘Oh, well then isn’t that nice, I do declare. I fancy, it would have taken a pretty penny bought the house – it being fourteenth century in in style and all. Now, dear you can tell me all about it as we travel along. Without drawing breath she added, I am travelling to Melbourne, Australia as I have a nice cousin who lives there. Nice. Birgit mouthed. You have heard of Melbourne I presume?

‘Fancy that, echoed Birgit wishing she could sink even further down into the seat. ‘So am I. Mrs. Sparrow. I have relatives there too." She replied dully and for good measure flattening out the creases in her green skirt. Mrs Sparrow watched her.

‘Hmm, is that so and who would they be dear?"

‘Well, here we go,’ thought Birgit waiting for the outcome of this information. ‘My Auntie, my Mother’s sister," she said studying the layout of the seat in front of here. Mrs Sparrow, did not change her tone but pressed onwards.

I see, that would be Rhiannon wouldn’t it. A nice girl. The younger one I didn’t know. It was a mystery we all thought. Birgit froze at the mention of the unknown sister. The subject had arisen a few times lately and it was unnerving her. Quickly, she returned to the present and slowly replied, ‘Yes, I suppose so,’ she replied as she ran her fingers through her long hair it to prevent herself from shaking this infuriating woman.

I see. Well it will be so pleasant to catch up. She married that nice man who is in antiques didn’t she and then moved overseas. I recall it all now – just like yesterday. Birgit was thinking with her mouth open that Mrs Sparrow possessed a memory equal to that of an elephant and she observed her patting down her skirt several times. She was so fussy and her mind was still active. She looked at her thoughtfully before adding. That would have been the last time I think. Her mother was not happy about it though I can tell you. She was in tears when I saw her and was convinced she would never see her daughter again. Shaking her head she said more to herself than to Birgit who was frowning somewhat. "My memory is

Reviews for Enter the Fey

[CaroleWeaveLane · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

What an original and exciting book. I must read more of her works. I wonder what she is working on now