Belltain's Final Act

By Maggy Gould

Long before his adventures with Princess Castielle in Castielle the Fair, Belltain worked as a bodyguard for someone else...

Veela Vrass, Ghard-en-Yarr's most famous actress, has been targeted by obsessed fans throughout her career. When Belltain takes on the job of protecting her, he thinks it's an easy job. After all, he's the best in the business and he has the killer's mark.

However, all thoughts of an easy life vanish during rehearsals for Veela's new play, when a threatening note is found, addressed to the star and signed by the Red Masked Man.

Now on high alert, Belltain guards Veela even more closely - but the star goes missing from under his nose.

The Red Masked Man has Veela - but how did he do it? And who is he anyway?

Belltain faces a race against time to find these answers and find Veela. A task made even more difficult as the culprit seems to be using magic...

Belltain's Final Act is a fantasy/mystery novella.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Maggy Gould
• Release date: Aug 11, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223036456

Maggy Gould

Maggy Gould is a fantasy/sci-fi author who enjoys world-building. She creates stories in mystical realms and far-off planets, with diverse characters (some human, some not). An avid reader herself, she is particularly inspired by fairy tales and sci-fi epics. She lives with her family in Cheshire.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Belltain examined the silver dragon tattoo on the palm of his left hand. He waggled his fingers, then curled them towards his palm. As he repeated the routine, it looked as though the tiny dragon was dancing on his skin. Belltain reckoned this was the only entertainment he’d be getting for a while.

Belltain was bored. Mind-numbingly, soul-crushingly bored. He shifted in the small plastic seat which was without doubt the most uncomfortable thing he’d parked his ample behind on.

The Mynash Theatre. Probably the most famous theatre in the land of Ghard-en-Yarr, which attracted the most famous actors onto its stage. Its lavish productions attracted thousands of punters every year. And what did those punters have to sit on once they’d spent a small fortune on tickets? Plastic seats.

Would it kill them to put in a few cushions? Belltain wondered as he stared grumpily down at the stage.

Apart from Belltain, there was no one else in the audience to watch the seven actors currently on stage. It was rehearsal time. Opening night was in three days. The front row of seats was currently occupied by the director, producer and a whole host of production staff; Belltain didn’t know or care what they all did. He was sitting further back. Much better view for his purposes. He had checked all the doors, backstage areas, dressing rooms, every space in the vast building, and everything was as it should be. Nice and safe. No one was getting in unless they needed to be here. No one was getting anywhere near her unless they needed to.

Belltain watched his charge, Veela Vrass, a slim young woman with a narrow face and long, tightly-curled blonde hair. One of those long curls was currently a luminous pink. It was her trademark. For every play she performed in, she dyed a single streak of hair a different colour.

She was on her knees, her hands clasped in front of her, sobbing uncontrollably, as two older men in long green robes stood over her, their faces stern. One held a long steel knife.

Belltain, who was no fan of actors or any type of stage production, had to admit Veela was good. It was hardly surprising she was popular with fans and always in demand with producers. It was a shame that she was probably more famous for her disturbed admirers than for her acting.

The man holding the knife raised his arm high, then brought it down in a leisurely swoop. Veela shrieked and crumpled to the ground, as the man stabbed again and again.

No, no, no! Hinkel, the director, yelled from his seat. You’re supposed to be stabbing her, not tickling her! Do it again!

Veela raised herself up on one elbow and sighed loudly. Couldn’t we have a break first? That last scene really took it out of me.

Hinkel rolled his eyes. Whatever. It’s nearly time for lunch anyway. You’ve got half an hour, folks.

Oh, you do spoil us, muttered the man with the knife, who was the first to leave the stage.

Belltain got to his feet as everyone began making their way to the bar area next to the foyer. It was where the caterers had set up tables laden with hot and cold food for the actors and production staff. The food on offer was amazing, as good as anything Belltain had tasted at an expensive restaurant, and finally managed to put a smile on his face.

As Belltain stuffed his delighted face with spicy sausages and creamy mashed potato, he watched Veela sitting at a small table close by, pressed against a muscular dark-haired young man, who was feeding her portions of cold ham. The sight of the simpering pair almost, but not quite, managed to put Belltain off his food.

The young man was not an actor, but Veela’s personal trainer and husband, Ostin. There were many who considered Ostin to be drop-dead gorgeous, but Belltain was not one of them. He didn’t like men with ponytails.

A small grey-haired man in a shiny green tunic approached Belltain. May I join you?

Belltain nodded and the man sat, plonking down his lunch beside Belltain’s piled-high plate. Belltain eyed the man’s bowl with distaste. It appeared to contain nothing but lettuce.

So, Belltain, said Karlo, picking up a lettuce leaf and nibbling on it like a rabbit. Anything to report?

Belltain gave him a narrow-eyed stare. Karlo asked this same question at least five times a day. As Veela’s manager, Karlo had been the one to hire Belltain, the latest in a long line of bodyguards to keep her safe from her dangerously obsessive fans.

Nope. Belltain gave Karlo the same answer he always gave.

Nothing to report. Nothing had happened. Nothing had happened in the three months Belltain had been in this job. It was no wonder Veela’s bodyguards had come and gone with the frequency of the changing seasons. Apart from the fact Veela was a temperamental, self-obsessed personality with barely acceptable social skills, the job itself was dull. In the three months since Belltain had accepted his post via the bodyguard agency on Level-Kut, he had lived mainly in Veela’s luxurious house on the southern coast of Level-Don, where he spent his days watching her being interviewed by fawning writers or pampered by a variety of beauticians and fashion stylists, and his nights listening to her and Ostin’s excessively noisy love-making. For the last two weeks, he had lived in a small villa in the Dingle-Vas dukedom that was near the theatre and Veela and Ostin were renting for the duration of the play. An Ancient Murder, starring Veela Vrass as the doomed heroine, was scheduled for a six-week run.

The only