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    Nine Stones
    Nine Stones
    Nine Stones
    Ebook276 pages4 hours

    Nine Stones

    By Charles G. Dyer

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    About this ebook

    Orphaned as a young girl, eighteen-year-old Mae is an Elf girl who is trapped in a life of drudgery living with her reclusive aunt.
    Renegade Elves steal Nine sacred magical stones from the Otherworld. This puts the very existence of the Elves in jeopardy.
    When Mae dreams of the stones, the Elders send her to the surface world to find them. They think that she is their only hope of recovering the stones. She sees an opportunity to change her life.
    Joe finds one of the stones and the consequence of satisfying his curiosity has a profound effect on him.
    Whether it is Fate or the Elfin goddesses that guide her, Mae finds Joe. He is not what she expected. Their lives become inextricably intertwined. She is torn between duty to her people and her attraction to Joe.
    The Elders are surprised by the turn of events. Danger, betrayal and divided loyalties pepper this romantic adventure.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherCharles G. Dyer
    Release dateOct 13, 2013
    ISBN9781301769834
    Nine Stones
    Author

    Charles G. Dyer

    Charles Dyer is a consulting engineer, former senior lecturer and former technical magazine editor. He creates 3D models to help with visualisation and realism in his writing.

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      Book preview

      Nine Stones - Charles G. Dyer

      NINE STONES

      CHARLES G. DYER

      Copyright © 2013 Charles G. Dyer

      All rights reserved.

      ISBN: 9781301769834

      Smashwords Edition

      License

      Thank you for purchasing this book. It remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to purchase their own copy at Smashwords.com, where they can also discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.

      CONTENTS

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      Chapter Thirteen

      Chapter Fourteen

      Chapter Fifteen

      Chapter Sixteen

      Chapter Seventeen

      Chapter Eighteen

      About The Author

      Pronunciation of elfin Names and Words

      Maetharanell = May-thar-ah-nell (female)

      Faelwen = Fail-wen (female)

      Alyan = Ahl-yahn (male)

      Aranel = Are-ahn-ell (female)

      Baramaethor = Bar-ah-my-thore (male)

      Daugion = Dowg-ee-on (male)

      Gwedhiel = Gweh-thee-ell (female)

      Nessima = Ness-ee-mah (female)

      Nibenwen = Nib-en-wen (female)

      Noriel = Nor-ee-ell (female)

      Morwen = More-wen (female)

      Thalion = Thahl-ee-on (male)

      Vehiron = Vay-heer-on (male)

      Arphenion = Are-fen-ee-on (male)

      Aes sidhe = Ace-sheeth-uh (phrase)

      Vanya = Vahn-yah (female)

      Pronunciation of Irish Names

      Blathnaid = Blah-nid (female)

      Sinead = Shin-aid (female)

      CHAPTER ONE

      Last night, I had that dream again, only this time I knew it for what it was… Mae glanced at her aunt to gauge her reaction.

      Flickering firelight patterned the rough dry-packed stone walls and highlighted the dimples on aunt Noriel's cheeks. Occasionally, dust or spiders drifted down from the exposed rushes of the roof covering. One of her furry white eyebrows lifted a fraction but she was accustomed to the way Mae spun out a story.

      Mae continued, "It was a memory from my strange future. I can't explain how I know that. It feels as though that is what it is and the dream was still bitty. It was much more detailed than before but still incomplete."

      Noriel had an aversion to long names. When she had the task of raising her sister’s child foisted on her, she dispensed with the girl’s name forthwith. Mae's given name was a typically elfin mouthful. At least Maetharanell was a name that was easily shortened.

      Both Mae's parents died under mysterious circumstances several years previously. Only one elf survived that fateful expedition. When he was eventually found, he was reduced to a blithering idiot who had lost his memory.

      Noriel stirred her gruel resignedly. So, do tell dear Mae.

      Mae swallowed a quick couple of mouthfuls of tasteless mush and put her spoon down. Well, one scene repeated itself several times. There was this strangely woven basket that might have been metal. Not a very practical basket either because the bottom was rounded so that it could not stand up straight. It was upside down and I got the impression that it was part of a whole assembly. Not that I saw any other parts.

      I never saw or heard of a metal basket in all my days. You should make a sketch of what you remember, Noriel said.

      Hmm, Mae nodded, anyway, to start with there was a wispy swirl of orange smoke and somehow there was the hint of a face. No, several faces but one stood out in particular. It was a man's face, in agony, or so it seemed. Then his face shimmered into the smoke and that then dissolved into the basket shape which then faded to black.

      And I take it that the other elements of your dream remained the same, yes? Noriel finished her porridge.

      Yes. Mae pursed her lips. Running, as always and not knowing who or what was chasing me. And passing through the same old strange places that I've never seen. Not that I've ever done any travelling to let me see anything more than a few local trees. I had to remake my bed because the sheets were so tangled from all the tossing and turning. What do you think it all means, Noriel?

      Perhaps it is, as you say, a premonition of things to come. Were all the smoky faces of men and how many were there? Noriel tucked a strand of silken white hair behind her long pointed ear.

      Mae was not sure how old her aunt was. The woman had never told her and she said that she had lost count of the years. What little Mae knew about elfin ageing led her to believe that Noriel must be at least 350 years old. Mae knew that she had been a childless widow for more than 200 years because Noriel often mentioned the fact.

      I don’t know for sure how many faces I saw but they were all men. They all seemed to know me but I didn't recognise any of them. Mae sprinkled a bit of salt on her porridge.

      Noriel sighed. I could be wrong but the whole thing smacks of soul-catcher magic. You must go and see Aranel. As a soothsayer, she is well-versed in such matters and the interpretation of dreams.

      Hmm, Mae stirred the gruel. I just wish the dreams would stop. Still it might help if I knew what it all meant. She finished her breakfast and went outside to tend to the vegetable patch.

      A short while later, Noriel emerged and stalked a chicken. The scuffle and sound of flapping wings made Mae turn around. She quickly closed her eyes and blocked her ears.

      Noriel sneered as she snapped the chicken's neck with a vicious twist. Stupid girl. When will you learn that life is nothing but kill or be killed?

      The killing of warm-blooded creatures was something Mae could never bring herself to do. She was quite content to eat the meat of anything that others had killed but she did not like to witness the killing either.

      Fishing was another story. It was a pastime that she thoroughly enjoyed. Somehow, the choking dying throes and death of the cold staring eyes of a fish curried no sympathy from her at all. Mae was so accomplished at catching trout with a stick, string and a lure that she was able to trade her catch. She often swapped fish for meat or skins.

      ***

      For as long as Joe could remember, he had always been interested in rocks, their origins and occasionally their beauty. The small pebble that lay at his feet was so strange and seemingly out of place that he felt compelled to pick it up.

      The moment he reached for it, a sense of dreadful misgiving overwhelmed him. Nevertheless, he crouched down and his eager fingers encircled it.

      An instant passed before the shock registered but then it was too late. His fingers involuntarily closed ever tighter about the damned stone.

      Although he had a reasonably high tolerance for pain, the searing agony he felt grew beyond anything he had ever experienced. Violent shaking of his arm and attempts at forcing his fingers open had no effect. Nothing he tried relieved him of the stone.

      Quick as blinking, a terrible force turned every molecule in his body into an excruciating source of pain. He lost all control and every muscle cramped as he crumpled into a writhing heap on the ground.

      So quick and unexpected was this onslaught that his breath froze and he could not even utter a whimper. Through eyes dimmed by pain and tears he saw that his rock-hard left hand had whitened from the force of his grip on the stone. Thick swirling smoke poured out from between his straining fingers. In short shrift, Joe was overcome by the nerve-shattering pain and mercifully lost consciousness.

      Some time later, he awoke in a convulsive movement that straightened his body and forced him to draw a deep gasping breath.

      The pain was gone but he felt utterly drained. He was so weak that it took considerable effort to roll over and sit up.

      His left fist was still tightly clenched. Before he opened it, he knew that the stone was gone. He slowly straightened his fingers and saw a pile of sweat-sodden ash in the palm of his hand.

      Staring in disbelief, he wondered what could possibly have done that. The only thing that came to mind was sodium. That burns violently in contact with water and it’s a silvery metal. The stone definitely was not metallic in appearance. Anyhow, there sure wasn’t enough moisture on my hand to warrant that reaction even if it had been sodium.

      Joe brushed the ash away to examine his hand. Jeez! What the hell is that?

      Surprisingly, none of his fingers showed any signs of being burnt. Nor did the palm of his hand, except for the mark.

      The mark was unlike anything he had seen before. It was not a tattoo or even a brand. A brand or a burn of any description would have raised a pinkish welt of scar tissue. This mark was pure white and it formed a slight depression in the skin.

      He still felt too queasy to move but he thought that he should phone a friend. The cell phone was dead. He sniffed it and smelled the acrid stench of burnt electrical circuitry. Jeez, that's nice! Bloody well toasted and I nearly was too, he mumbled.

      Joe looked at his watch and saw that he had lost nearly an hour to the weird experience. The cold wind blowing off the Atlantic had chilled his motionless body. He shivered, stood up slowly and carefully and stamped his feet.

      The sea roared into the channel it had cut into the rocks. What Joe had come to see and study was the Bridges of Ross. There used to be three spectacular natural arched bridges over miniature fjords until erosion collapsed two of them into the sea. This wild and lonely part of the western coast of Ireland is near the tiny village of Kilbaha on the Loop Head peninsula in County Clare.

      He shuddered as he trudged unsteadily back to his car. Lucky I wasn't too near the edge of the cliff when I picked up that damned stone.

      The car was warm inside and he just sat staring at his marked hand in a state of shock. His analytical mind could not even begin to assess the events of the past hour. It simply made no sense at all.

      Magic! He thumped the steering wheel. That's got to be it. Nothing in science will ever explain this. Jeez, do I even dare to show it to anyone? He shook his head.

      He drove uncharacteristically slowly home to his cottage in the middle of the Loop Head peninsula. As usual, Bella was waiting anxiously for him to open the door.

      She leapt up a licked his face while resting her great paws on his shoulders. Almost immediately, she sensed that something was wrong or different. She got down and snuffled about whimpering. He petted and hugged her. Yeah, something very weird happened to me girl. Mind now. I could do with a strong cuppa.

      The huge tawny hound knew what 'mind' meant. She stepped aside and followed him deeper into the house. Her black muzzle and intelligent brown eyes were, in Joe's opinion, her most endearing features. Her only other markings on her sleek short fur were one white sock and an irregular star on her chest.

      He made tea with three times his normal helping of sugar and poured out a generous helping of milk for Bella in her large enamelled dish. No sooner had he settled in front of the fire than there was a knock on the door.

      Bella barked and then fussed over the visitor as soon as she recognised who it was.

      How ya doin' Joe and ya Bella? Delia stood smiling on the threshold. Her given name was Bedelia but she hated it and everyone used the abbreviated version.

      Ah, Delia I must say that I've been better. Come in. Will you have some tea? Joe gestured with a welcoming wave. He sometimes wondered where she had acquired her singular speech mannerisms that took some getting used to.

      His dairy farming neighbour stepped inside. Don't mind if I do then. Now what's all this? Ya do look a bit down.

      Joe put the kettle on the stove. I went to the Bridges of Ross.

      She wriggled her shoulders. I don't like that place. I went there once as a wee thing and it scared the hell out of me. Delia helped herself to a seat on the chair she usually used. Bella nudged her knee for attention.

      He set out the tea things. Well, maybe rightly so too. I never thought anything of those sorts of superstitions until...

      It wasn't really any stories, Delia chipped in, I just found the place creepy. Hard to explain really but I'd never heard any tales about the place.

      Well what do you think of this? Joe held his hand out. Bella settled down with her huge head resting on outstretched paws.

      Delia crossed herself quickly. Holy Mother of God! You've been touched by the Little People, to be sure! No wonder you look like death warmed up.

      Not the Little People, just a stone, Joe began and then blurted out the whole story about the interesting stone he had found.

      The screaming kettle demanded attention. While he served tea, Delia assimilated what she had seen and heard. Perhaps the stone was dropped by the Little People or maybe they left there deliberately.

      Why? He sat down and warmed his hands around his mug. From what I've ever heard about them they're elves or leprechauns and they don't usually go out of their way to contact us humans, do they?

      She sipped her tea and stared at the fire in the little cast-iron stove. He looked expectantly at her over the top of his mug. Outside, the wind was stronger and it whistled through the eaves of the entrance porch roof.

      I'd say it's best not to be tellin' too many people about this. A friend of mine might be able to cast some light on the matter. I'll tell her and see what she says. In the mean time, I'd keep my hand in my pocket if I was ya. She drank the rest of her tea.

      Funny that's what I thought on the way home. I only told you because I know that you don't gossip and you are a good friend. He added another peat briquette to the fire.

      ***

      Aranel stroked her fingers through her long silky black hair. Her ears were longer and more sharply pointed than any other elf that Mae had seen. Her gossamer dress had an iridescence that was mesmerising. It made Mae think of a spider and the way its web ensnared its victims. The fact that Aranel's house was decorated by scores of cobwebs did not help matters.

      That merely added to the discomfort Mae felt in the woman's presence. She felt as though she had bared her soul and was in danger of losing a part of her to the penetrating black eyes. From what Noriel had told her about the dreamsayer, Mae knew that the woman was at least 180 years old and she did not look a day over thirty. That in itself was a scary thought.

      At last, Aranel spoke. Tell me more. What kind of ground were you on? Was there anything behind the images you told me about? What were you wearing, eh?

      Mae fidgeted as she tried to recall more of her dream. I don't know what I was wearing but my boots were lost.

      You have something of the Sight and these dreams are indeed a form of premonition. But there's more than that. Long ago, a party of elves went through the Portal and took with them stones. These were not just ordinary rocks of this world or even of the surface world. They were sacred magical stones that were kept in the temple. The thieves never returned and nobody knows what happened to them.

      How long ago? Mae wondered aloud.

      Aranel scowled at her. Not that long ago. Maybe a few months but the important thing is the stones.

      I never dreamed of any stones... Mae began. Suddenly, she sat up straight. Wait there were stones. I was walking on pebbles that seemed to change colour.

      A sharp look and a raised finger silenced her. Aranel continued, The stones would be what made the smoke that you described. The basket could have been anything. But I suppose it might well have been a soul trap, though I cannot see how that fits in with the rest. The fact that it was empty means that you might lose something through your own carelessness. Was the man an elf?

      Mae raised her eyebrows then screwed up her eyes. Uh, I er, now that you mention it... I don't think so. No, his ears were rounded on top.

      Hmm, it seems that a human has found one of the stones or perhaps that event is yet to happen. You need to go through the Portal and find the remaining stones and anyone who might have come into contact with them. Aranel sat back with a smug look on her face.

      It took a moment for Mae to protest. But why and how and what am I supposed to do with the stones and the people that we assume don't even know that we exist?

      Aranel sighed with a degree of exasperation as she twirled the ends of her hair between long pale fingers. The fact that you have dreamt repeatedly about the same thing is indicative of a strong connection between you and the stones. Their magic will draw you to them. Those that have been touched will have been destroyed but their power will have been transferred to the person that touched them. You will therefore still be able to find them and they will probably be marked.

      Marked, how? Mae blinked.

      You do know what our sacred symbols look like, don't you? Aranel frowned. "No doubt the human, she almost spat the word, will bear one of those and most likely it will be on the hand that dared to defile our precious heritage."

      It was Mae's turn to express some aggravation. So, what exactly are these stones? How many of them were there? Why is it so important to get them back and why were they taken into the human world in the first place?

      Aranel smirked, If you want those sorts of answers, you had better talk to the Elders. She raised a hand. Ah, I almost forgot. Losing your boots and being barefoot is a warning that difficulties lie ahead for you and you risk wasting time on unproductive activities. The orange colour of the smoke also suggests that there may be delays before all the events in your dream come to pass. I have interpreted your dreams and I will do no more. See the Elders.

      By Brigit and Danu, I might just do that. Mae stood to leave.

      Aranel snorted, Ha! The old goddesses never helped us when the accursed Milesians condemned us to live forever underground and it's their descendants that now foul the surface world. Do you really think that calling on them will help?

      That's as good as blasphemy, Mae muttered under her breath as she passed through the doorway. What a witch! She took a deep breath as she hurried away. I am not looking forward to meeting with the Elders but what other choice do I have? It seems that my dreams started around the time the stones were stolen. She also thought that the interpretation was almost as confusing as the dreams.

      Back at home, Noriel agreed with Mae's last thoughts. Still, it all sounds too serious to ignore and only the Elders will be able to decide whether or not you need to follow through with Aranel's advice. I'm sure that they will be less vague and possibly...

      Mae waited a while for her aunt to continue before prompting. Possibly what?

      Noriel sighed. Mae my dear, it's not for me to say what the Elders might or might not do or say. Anything more that I might add could raise your hopes and I don't want you to be disappointed.

      Ha! Mae snorted inwardly. Disappointment will be what I'll feel if they expect me to do as Aranel suggested.

      And another thing, Noriel said haughtily, I'll not have you bringing shame on me. See that you behave with the proper decorum when you see the Elders.

      What's that supposed to mean? the elf girl said with wide-open eyes.

      You must address the women as Ma'am and the men as Lord, Noriel said. And only speak when they indicate that a reply is called for. And, show some respect. You can't wear those awful trousers, put on a decent dress and some proper shoes.

      ***

      Although he had only seen the stone for an instant before he made the fateful decision to pick it up, the image was burned into his brain. What Joe remembered of the stone was a sort of phosphorescence that seemed to radiate the whole spectrum of colour. Not that the stone actually glowed, it was more an impression than actual colour. Nothing he had ever seen before in books or on the ground could match it.

      He could not even begin to classify it despite his extensive knowledge of geology. Perhaps it was a fragment of an asteroid. But all we know about other planets and the rest of the universe suggests that it's all composed of the same elements. Humph, I suppose that the different combinations and permutations must be almost infinite. If only the darned thing hadn't gone poof when I touched it.

      Joe whiled the time away by scratching through a drawer of obsolete cell phones until he found the newest. He put it on charge. That'll have to do until my next upgrade.

      He was waiting to hear from Delia who said that she had arranged a meeting with her friend and first wanted to confirm a time with him.

      After what seemed like ages to him, the phone rang and he jumped up to answer

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