Mysty la Fey Barbarian Bane of Britain

By Cal pflugrath

Upon Rome's 5th century withdrawal from England invaders attacked. The need for a united front apparent Mysty la Fey arrives from the future. A skilled combat shapeshifter the young woman uses her numerous talents to unite a diverse people.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Nov 12, 2021
• ISBN: 9781794823815

Book preview

PART ONE Fall of empires

Chapter one    the debris field

I cannot see a bloody thing, Wompers groaned to his sentry partner. If not for the crashing sea there’d be no way knowing where we are, Sarge.

Tis a bit o the pea souper this morn, sentry Dirken Smyth agreed shuffling along beside.

Uncanny after last night’s lightening filled blow. That storm nearly took off the barrack’s roof.

Sargent Smyth nodded. "Some warm western water hits a cold Irish Sea and those mist sprites dance about past noon.

This patrol is a waste of energy, Sir. All we’ll report seeing is our boots and Bally’s Pier, the sentry turnaround point.

Wompers smiled, what say we head back now and save that effort? This clammy mist freezes my bones.

As Dirken considered their boots suddenly clomped into heavy wooden planks. Before those surprised soldiers lay a scattered landscape of complex wreckage fading into some foggy beach distance.

Look about, Dirken ordered, pulling his short sword.

What in blazes!? Wompers exclaimed. There’s a girl over here, Dirk.

Face up upon a large raft of black planks some young woman lay unconscious. Wearing strange armor the pale girl appeared uninjured.

So much for our short walk, Dirk snorted kneeling over that small attractive woman. Run back for the tower guard commander.

Captain Dallin Ackley and Baron Tilton Garrick strode about that wreckage. Fog lifting the sea disaster’s size and scope was now apparent.

To whom does Kenley think this flotsam belonged the Baron asked.

Dallin shook his head. "There’s nothing familiar here, Sir. The wood’s strange. This debris and those language markings correspond to nothing familiar.

The harbor master continues searching but so far this looks like an enigma.

Survivors?

Only the girl, and no other bodies. Judging from the flotsam and jetsam this vessel was not a single sailor craft.

What kind of shape is she in?

The healers remain uncertain. They’d bleed her to remove evil deep-sea spirts but hope that imp wakes first.

Surveying a vast wreckage field the baron queried, how big a boat was it?

Dallin snorted. "Bigger than anything we’ve ever floated.

There is a wooden rudder over beside the pier. Assuming their shipwrights use standard building methods this boat was over five hundred feet long and sixty wide.

Goodness! Baron Garrick exclaimed.

Kenley Marden is collecting everything that washed up, Captain Ackley said. He hopes to reassemble what we’ve got. Then shipwrights figure out where it came from and how such a thing worked.

Keep me posted. I’m off to call upon our visitor.

At Tintagel Keep’s medical ward Baron Tilton Garrick limped into an unexpected screaming match.

How dare such as you presume therapeutic authority over me in my own hospital! healer Millard Parr screeched at an angry Frieda Fairfax.

Tilton grinned at this odd mismatch. There towered the young six-foot blond-blue eyed witch-friend of his sister, Lady Haylee Carling, hulking above an old barely five-foot two doctor.

The Baron knew who he wanted by his bedside if injured. What’s this all about?

Doctor Parr glared up at him and sputtered, I cannot do modern Roman medicine under these circumstances with some Scandinavian Valkyrie lurking about.

She should be isolated, not bled, Frieda insisted. Oden knows where such as her comes from. Our very air may contain vapors dangerous to the maiden’s unexposed race.

The Baron nodded. During his twenty-nine years Tilton spent ten sailing from Kent to Constantinople fighting pirates and worse. He understood Frieda’s concerns.

Turning to the listening orderlies he commanded, move her into an isolation cell. Limit the patient’s local contact until further notice.

Baron! Millard complained, this sorceress is barely out of maidenhood! How can you trust her limited experience!?

I understand your concerns and accept responsibility for this decision. Assist Miss Fairfax as she requests or leave the patient to her care.

Bah!  the doctor blurted and scampered off.

Frieda smiled and shook her head. Thank you, Tilton. He’ll go right to Friar Osmund about this.

I’ll handle them. What can you tell me about her so far?

"She’s not like anything I’ve seen. The bone structure and visual characteristics are unlike any recognizable culture. This armor is of unknown origins and possesses odd powers.

Odd, in what way?

Frieda smiled. Take a look at this. It was attached at her belt as the main weapon.

Tilton turned that strange device over in his hands. A three-foot wooden bat with sharp black glass embedded, he mused.

That’s not glass, it’s volcanic obsidian. Be careful of those edges. They are sharper than well-honed steel. This appears to be the woman’s only other weapon.

The baron handled an equally sharp obsidian long knife. No metal, he considered. Armor?

"All wood, Sir. Wherever such as this one originated modern metallurgy seems unknown.

Give me until dinner to examine the survivor and artifacts. By then she’s hopefully awake and we will have scrutinized her gear and shipwreck further.

The Baron nodded. Limping off on his right peg leg he requested, join me and Haylee for evening meal with your report.

Tintagel Keep’s ruler held dinner briefings in some small unassuming hall. Just off roomy quarters at best that main oak table with a few side bars might seat twenty.

This evening’s gathering included the baron, his sister Haylee, Frieda Fairfax, shipwright Kenley Marden and Captain Ackley.

How’s our guest, Haylee asked Frieda.

Still unresponsive. I think the woman might be pretending.

Why would she do that? Tilton puzzled.

Frieda sipped her ale and answered, "following what looked like some major ship disaster you wake in a strange place among mysterious people speaking an unknown language.

If it was me I might try listening and finding out more before revealing personal details.

Did you learn anything from her gear?

Just how amazing it is, she joked. That wooden armored girdle she wore from throat gorget to waist, I could not penetrate the material with my steel knife.

So it’s some kind of new metal? Haylee asked.

The substance is wood, way too light and flexible for steel. I’ve never encountered timber like this.

How about the wreckage? Baron Garrick asked.

No attached metal washed up. I’m also mystified about this ship’s configuration.

What do you mean, Captain Ackley queried.

Marden refilled his wine glass and replied, "thirty-three years on the water I’ve examined hundreds of shipwreck debris fields.

Every disaster reveals some part or construction configuration leading to its identification. Not this time.

What do you mean, Frieda asked.

The harbormaster gulped. That was some kind of sailing ship but other than sails and rudders it shares no other earth-like similarities. It is as though that wreck fell from another world.

Fell? Lady Haylee mused.

Kenley nodded. As though it dropped from the sky and smashed upon stormy water just offshore. That would fit the debris configuration.

This is the fifth century, for God’s sake, Captain Ackley insisted. Fairies and giants belong to Britain’s mythical past."

Frieda laughed, she does rather look like our resident pixie, smirking at Haylee.

And you can be that imp’s giant sidekick, fair-haired friend, Lady Tintagel mocked.

Everyone laughed.

Chapter two    the fairy awakens

Unable playing dead much longer I decided to revive in the morning. Besides, I was hungry.

That blond giant others called Frieda and her little red headed friend Haylee showed up at morning check.

Ugh, I winced. I’m hungry.

Eyes wide they rushed up. How do you feel? Frieda asked.

Having overheard a day’s worth of local Indo/European dialect I could comfortably operate some two-hundred-word vocabulary.

I nodded. Food. Please.

As they chattered among each other and assistants my vocabulary improved.

What do they call you? Haylee asked.

Mysty la Fey.

Those others introduced themselves.

Breakfast would be some nutritious bowl of great tasting shellfish stew. Afterwards I managed communicating to them my need for a restroom.

Following that we spoke.

My ship’s condition?

Haylee shook her head.

May I see?

A cold but clear morning harbor construction crews working overnight managed to re-assemble what of the vessel floated up near shore.

Before me stood some skeleton’s skeleton.

My jaw dropped.

She’ll never sail again, I sighed.

What was it? Baron Garrick asked.

I closed my eyes and smiled, fast and maneuverable.

What of her crew? Frieda questioned.

"We were the last ship out. Badly damaged with most of the sailors killed defending those docks our path crossed some terrible storm.

I ended up here.

Where did you come from? Haylee asked.

I gave a startling laugh thinking, ‘see that bluff off of the harbor entrance? My house was just up and to the left among those pine trees.’

Of course I could not tell them that. I came from over the western sea.

They looked at me with doubt and concern.

We’ve all examined the vest, Miss Fairfax insisted. That and the wreck do not fit this story.

I smiled and shrugged.

Can you get back where you belong without the vessel? Kenley Marden queried.

Unknown.

Turning to Baron Garrick I knelt per local tradition and offered, may this one offer to serve in your company, Lord of Tintagel Keep?

Tilton grinned. Rise, Lady Mysty of Tintagel, my sister’s maiden in waiting. Welcome among the folk of foggy places.

So began my bargain with this strange reality. Parts of it were embedded in my former history but other things seemed quite alien.

I looked for a way back to that former reality disrupted by the storm. My mind continued believing some extraordinary tempests cast me here. Time and unfolding events would unfortunately prove that theory to be wrong.

Our evening’s dinner conference began with a long-range scouts’ briefing.

The Romans are abandoning all outposts west of Kent. Scot and Pic invaders from the north move further south along east Angela.

Londinium is threatened and local magistrates fleeing west.

We’re on our own, Miss Fairfax fumed and gulped her ale.

Not necessarily, Haylee insisted. "Local British units can hold town and city gates. English men will always fill in those manpower gaps.

Most of these Saxons are immigrants seeking farmlands left by fleeing Romans. Let them do so.

Saxon allies? Captain Ackley asked in a skeptical tone.

Yet to be determined, Lady Carling insisted. Best to keep an eye on them.

What’s our move? I queried. There’s something out there for us to exploit. Romans are leaving behind potential opportunities.

Tilton frowned. "Or we could play it safe. These are issues taking place over one hundred-fifty miles away. My missing leg urges caution.

"Other than