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Excerpts From Enchanting Eras
The Lady and the Highwayman
By Olivia Lorenz
“Have y’ got far to travel, ma’am?”
Georgina Naughton looked up from her steak and ale pie with its
accompaniment of fresh greens, and regarded the innkeeper with cursory
interest. He was fair washing his hands with anxiety, or so it seemed,
and she wondered what the cause of his worry might be. Surely it could
not be the food. This tavern, The Blue Boar, renowned for its
simple, yet tasty and nourishing victuals, fit her evening meal plans to
perfection. The glass of Madeira that had been provided with her meal
was a little below par, but then she didn’t expect much better from a
coaching-inn.
She set down her knife and fork and dabbed daintily at her lips before
she replied. “We should reach York by nightfall.”
The innkeeper’s frown creased his brow, making him look even more
concerned. “It be three of the clock already, ma’am – the light is
failing, and this close to the coast and at this time of year, there’s
some hellish fog that comes a-rollin’ in. It’s a dangerous road, and
what with you being a lady on her own…”
He glanced at the rings on her hands and looked doubtful, probably
wondering where her chaperone was; but he was too polite to voice this
aloud.
“My coachman is very good. I have no fears for my safety,” she said
airily, waving a hand, then picking up her cutlery again. “I have
travelled up from London by way of Cambridge, and now I am most anxious
to sleep beneath my own roof tonight.”
The innkeeper nodded swiftly. “Surely, ma’am, I understand you… and I
don’t want to cause you no alarm, but you should know there be
highwaymen about these parts, and vicious swine they are, too.”
“Highwaymen!” Georgina cut through the crust on her pie as if to show
her contempt. “A despicable breed, truly – but I am not afraid of those
scoundrels.”
“I only mention it, ma’am, because – well, if you were wanting to travel
in the morning, there is a room here that might suit you,” the innkeeper
offered, bowing from the waist.
Georgina considered the offer for a moment as she pushed a piece of
piecrust through the thick, juicy gravy. “No,” she said at last, “I am
determined to press on, regardless of highway brigands. I have business
in York this night that cannot wait.”
She gave the innkeeper a gracious smile. “I thank you for your kindness,
but I am no milksop to be frightened or overset by the threat of
robbery.”
The innkeeper muttered and nodded, and then hurried away to attend to a
finely dressed couple that had entered the premises. Georgina glanced
briefly at the gentleman and his bit of muslin, for the woman was no
lady despite the fine gown she was wearing. She recognised them both
from an event several miles’ back, but she had no fear that they would
recognise her.
The parlour-room door finally swung closed, shielding her from the view
of the farm labourers and travellers too poor to afford a private room.
She glanced out of the lead-paned window, noting that the innkeeper had
been right. The light was becoming dim as the afternoon faded. Within
two hours, dusk would be upon the land. She shivered slightly, more in
response to the idea of autumn drawing in so quickly than from any
terror of what might lie ahead on the roads.
She stayed for another fifteen minutes more until a servant-girl came by
to set and light the fire in the grate. The sound of the tinder catching
and the scent of wood-smoke reminded Georgina even more sharply of the
close of the year, and suddenly she yearned for an end to her journey
and the warmth of her home.
She rose from the table and handed some coins to the servant; and then
she collected her short velvet jacket and slipped it on. Finally, she
picked up her bonnet and settled it into place atop her head, fastening
the pale lavender ribbon beneath her chin in a jaunty bow.
As she left the parlour, she cast a quick glance at the couple who had
recently come in. They were sitting together at a table with foaming
tankards of ale set before them, their heads together and their bodies
tight with anger as they squabbled.
The innkeeper saw her and bustled over, wiping his hands on his apron.
“Ma’am, let me warn you again about the dangers of travelling this road
at this time of day,” he repeated his earlier statement. He nodded
discreetly towards the well-dressed couple. “You see that gent and his
lady? They were robbed at Blyth earlier today. In broad daylight!”
* * * *
Silk Enchantment
By Megan Hussey
Chapter One
“Dearly beheaded. We gather here today to make total sod of my earthly
existence, trapping me in a fruitless union with a total and complete
wanker.”
“So Elizabeth, I take it you’re not quite prepared to walk down the
aisle?”
Lady Grace regarded her niece, the venerable Lady Elizabeth, with a
cocked eyebrow and a caustic grin.
Her niece looked fetching in a gown of azure satin that befit her
rubenesque form. Reams of classic lace lined the front and cuffs of this
elegant floor-length effort, further accented by pearl earbobs and the
graceful upsweep of her sleek blonde hair.
Her murderous scowl, however, diminished the whole effect.
“Auntie, why must I marry Walter? He’s a dour man whose nose is poised
perpetually in the air.” She scrunched her nose in distaste. “His idea
of a fun afternoon is an elongated game of croquet, during which he
regales me with his political theories and tales of his success at
court.” She cringed in spite of herself. “At times I’m well tempted to
impale myself on the head of my own mallet.”
“Now, now.” Grace patted her shoulder. “He is a reputable lord of the
queen’s court.”
“Reputable?” Elizabeth sniffed. “In our society, dear aunt, ‘reputable’
translates to ‘I’m a wealthy chap who’s noticeably lacking my original
hair and teeth.’”
Grace covered her mouth to suppress a hearty giggle. “Wealthy he is,
dear,” she winked. “Many a lass would appreciate that fact.”
“And just why should I?” Elizabeth planted her hands on her hips. “Our
family has funds, and I plan to make more of them.”
“Lass, lass.” Grace sighed. “Publishing an occasional sensation story in
the paper is lovely, to be sure, but it won’t feather our nest in future
years.”
“Just wait until I become a novelist.” Elizabeth lifted her chin. “Miss
Austen, you will notice, is very popular. And she remains unwed.” She
shot a triumphant grin in her aunt’s direction.
Without awaiting a response, Elizabeth straightened the skirts of her
azure gown and headed toward the door of her bedroom.
“Elizabeth.”
She stopped in her tracks as Grace’s voice took a serious, almost somber
tone.
Turning, she fixed her aunt with a quizzical gaze. “What is it, Auntie?”
“Remember the family, Dearie.” Grace regarded her with a gentle but
meaningful stare. “Who knows? If you make us happy, perhaps you too will
find happiness.” She shrugged. “Perhaps if you do some digging, you
might find Walter’s romantic side.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes.
That much digging, I fear,” she arched a sardonic brow, “would take me
to China and back.”
* * * *
One Soul: Two
Bodies
By Ellen Margret
Chapter One
The shoot had gone well. A dozen or so braces of pheasant would keep
cook happy and give her something to put on the table for the
forthcoming party. What a party it would be, too. It wasn't every day a
man got engaged to the most beautiful woman in the world. Silver blonde
hair, sky blue eyes, dimpled cheeks and a smile to make a man's heart
sing. Giselle was stunning and he loved her to distraction. It was the
happiest day of his life when she consented to be his wife. The date of
his proposal would be forever fixed in his mind. The ninth of July,
nineteen hundred. That was exactly a month ago.
He surely must be the luckiest man alive, after all, he was the son of
an earl and heir to a large, thriving estate. He had been given the very
best private education and had a loving family. He could ask for no
more, save for cook dishing up the most delectable foods for his
engagement party, and it would be washed down by cool champagne. He
licked his lips at the thought, and steered his mind back to the
present. The dogs had just flushed out a couple more birds. Taking aim
with his shotgun, he brought down one of them. His brother hit the other
and then the retrievers took off in a frenzy to bring the fluttering
pheasants in. For the moment, he was alone with his brother.
“Nicely done, Durant. I think it's about time to return home.” He
lowered his gun and glanced across at his brother. The look on his face
seemed oddly hostile. His stance appeared rigid as he reloaded his gun.
“I think we've cleared them all out. No need to reload.”
“Ah, but that is where you are wrong.”
The gun was clearly aimed at him. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I am about to kill you, dear brother.”
“Don't be ridiculous, Durant. Put it down.” He saw his brother's finger
begin to move on the trigger. His heart began to pound in his ears.
“You are so ruddy cocky, and so bloody smug. You get the most beautiful
woman in the world and the title and the estate. What do I
get? A bloody commission in the army. Great, I get to go and kill people
in foreign lands. Well, I need practise and so I'll start right now with
you!”
He backed away. “Durant, we can talk about this.”
“Oh, no, we can't. Talk won't give me everything you've got, but this
will. Dear me, this will be seen as such an unfortunate hunting
accident. It's bound to make the London newspapers.”
He heard the blast and felt the pain in his chest at the same time. He
was thrown against a tree, blinded by his own smattered blood. Pain
consumed him and then came the inky darkness.
* * * *
“Oh, Christ!” Brigham sat up with a jerk. He held his head in his hands
and tried to slow his breathing. He was hyperventilating and the sheets
were saturated in sweat, just as they always were when he had the dream.
It was a dream he had all too often, and it was always the same. In the
dream, his brother, Durant, killed him out of jealousy. Obviously, he
wanted Giselle for himself, and the title of earl too. But, he had no
brother and he didn't know any woman by the name of Giselle, and the
year was nineteen-seventy-one.
He took a very deep breath and stared at his shaking hands. Those hands
had just shot a pheasant out of the sky, or so it had seemed. The dream
was always so vivid and felt so real, and yet he still didn't know who
he was supposed to be. His name was never revealed in the dream. He
rubbed his eyes and reminded himself, yet again, that it was merely a
dream. His mind conjured it up and soon it would fade. A strong cup of
coffee and a couple of pieces of toast and marmalade would do the trick,
and then he would be on his motorbike and off to work.
Brig got out of bed and went into the tiny kitchen. It was so small he
could stand in the middle of the floor and touch two of the walls with
his outstretched arms. He smiled. Fancy dreaming he was the son of an
earl and heir to a huge estate. One of the cupboards in a manor house
would likely have been bigger than his little kitchen, and his sitting
room barely had enough room for the three seater sofa. Still, his little
flat was home and he did own it. His favourite room had to be the
bedroom, perhaps because it was the largest room in the flat. He still
hadn't finished furnishing it. It had a double bed and a wardrobe but it
was rather bare. Maybe he would call into the second hand furniture shop
in town, on his way to work. He had plenty of time, since he didn't need
to be in until ten-o-clock.
* * * *
Heart Magic
By Mae Powers
Etris took a reflective glance back at the small yacht anchored at one
of the docking bays. Even though she had not taken him to his heart's
answers, the Heart-Mage was a fine ship. It had always brought him home
safely. This large and luxurious vessel had seen him on this past,
yearlong journey. Now during the rising heat of the mid-summer season,
on the return home, he and his crew stopped to refit the ship with
supplies, and to allow the crew a last-minute shore leave.
He glanced above the sea vessel to the muted sky. Just before Captain
Zekk safely brought the Heart-Mage into port, the skies above had only
been slightly cloudy, now they threatened to engulf the whole ocean town
in their darkening mists. Crisp, thin bolts of lightning could be seen
on the far western horizon that led endlessly out into the Forbidden
Sea.
For a split second, Etris grinned at the vast body of water’s name.
Those who sailed too far away from Landchor’s safe haven were often
lost. It was as if this Land didn’t want her people to go too far. Catch
a few fish, a few treasures, and bring them home to Landchor. He slung
his small pack over his shoulder and headed down the gangplank. Etris
liked the feeling of the rough wind on his unshaven face. It felt like
the rumbling of fingers bristling through his hair, as if Aunt Telassa
were tousling his hair with her soft hand.
He was looking forward to being home soon, though his year-long journey
had not accomplished its mission. He remembered the day he'd started out
on the journey to find his Heart-Magic. He had wanted to go sooner upon
this life-filling quest, but there was always some excuse Uncle Daegus
had for him not going.
It was finally Aunt Telassa who made his uncle understand that Etris
needed to go. Telassa and Daegus both had used their perspective magic
powers to learn what kind of incident, trinket, or place would be
instigative in bringing about the full use of his inherent powers.
Although he could do some magic now, the men of his family line always
had to have something in which to enhance their powers.
His own, his siblings foretold, had something to do with garnet jewels.
He'd found garnet charms and jewelry during his yearlong travel, but
nothing had sparked his powers to full-might. Now, at nearly thirty
seasons of life and a lot more mature and travel weary, he realized he
may never be a full-fledged Heart-Mage.
With a wistful sigh, Etris made his way into the heart of Sea-Nest, its
market center. Aunt Telassa's birthday was in a few weeks and he wanted
to pick something up for her, not having found the right gift in his
travels. He decided to stop at Captain Zekk's favorite inn afterwards,
for some refreshments. The crew would be in town for only a few days or
replenishments, then they all would head back out, down towards the
harbor-town of Canpool, and on to his aunt and uncle's seaside estate.
He'd only been to Sea-Nest a few times, but today he felt as if he were
almost looking at it with a new perspective. Perhaps it was only because
he was nearing his journey's end. He perked up at the thought of going
home real soon. Etris really missed his aunt and uncle. Feeling a bit
more light-hearted, Etris took more mental notes of his experience here,
including taking in every detail he could of the bustling seaport and
trade town.
Unlike the flat, straight and narrow streets of Canpool, Sea-Nest's
streets were of different levels. This smaller ocean city was so
different from the larger Canpool, but not nearly as clean and promising
looking. Daken, a friend of his who had visited Sea-Nest some years ago
with Etris, told him the biggest joke about Sea-Nest was the slur upon
the city’s name, since the town looked like one nest built up on top of
another. He noticed that the further he went into the town, the streets
curved sharply and then turned up into a higher level, so that some of
the streets looked like rows of curved stairs stacked up on top of each
other. He was glad that his profession was not that of a city engineer
or designer.
The town became less seedy and gloomy the deeper into it he traveled.
Also, more life seem to exist within the city’s walls, for he saw other
proprietors selling wares; while barkeeps and whore-masters beckoned him
to enter their shops of delight. Etris could also see the eerie lights
coming from some of their heads and hands. Deciding to wait until the
morrow to shop for Telassa's gift, he went to the inn Captain Zekk
mentioned. He finally saw, with some relief, the arrow shaped, neon
green sign that boasted the presence of the Transport Inn.
* * * *
Silver Linings
By Mae Powers
Xera felt the leaves of the diamente brush against her one-half bared
shoulder. It was like a sharp touch, albeit how slight it scrapped her.
She jerked from the tiny sting and stood back to look at the shiny,
white stalked flower setting in a ruby vase. Its teardrop shaped stems
and flowers glistened at her, almost angrily. With her nature
attunement, she knew the richly coveted gem flowers were sensitive to
Fae or human touch. She was blessed and cursed with both.
The diamente was just another reminder that she worked for the upper
class of Silveran Wysps, instead of being one of their classed ilk. For
all the lush beauty of the gem-tree rainforest country she lived within,
she still would not have it otherwise. Her life had been good, being
born to a traveling human and her half Wysp-Fae mother. They had settled
in the housing branches of Silvera’s lower-middle class district
subdivision of Grove-tree, and had made a decent and comfortable living.
When the great quake had devastated part of Silvera, her parents had
been swallowed up in the giant jaws of a crack in the earth, along with
half the residents of Grove-tree. She had been away at school at the
time in the sister Wysp city of Torch.
Ten years and she still had set backs with her loss. She’d finished
those last few months at the Fae-wizard academy, but had immediately
come back the day after graduation, when she’d finally been told that
her parents had died in that awful quake. The city of Silvera had been
reconstructed and rebuilt at a fast rate over the years, and even now,
she could still see inklings from the loss. The quakes were rare, and
not always so devastating, but any Fae or non-Fae seer had not foretold
the large one.
The diamente whispered a sway of motion as the breeze from the open
shutters filtered through. She immediately went to the large bay window
and slid the rare translucent glass shut, so the diamente would not get
a chill upon its delicate features, which might cause one of it’s
fragile petals to drop. She did not want her lofty customer to charge
her with the cost of its breakage.
Sighing, she glanced around the large sitting and entertainment room. No
one was around and the owners of the lush tree house condo would not be
back for a few hours. She made a little movement with her hand, ever
slightly, and a tiny whirl of glittering magic swirled into the room and
went merrily twirling around the tree house of her rich clients. In a
few minutes, it came back towards her. She held out her hand and the
empath magic twirl-hopped happily into her hand. She touched it softly
with her other index finger and it dwindled down to a soft purring
circle in her hand before it completely disappeared.
“One must always thank magic for its help.” Her mother use to tell her,
“No matter how small it’s helpful to you.” Xera couldn’t help but agree.
Her father may have been human, but he also was an empathic nature
being. She had been bequeathed the best of both their talents and would
always be thankful for them.
Once more she glanced around the large room to make sure everything
glistened and was cleaned properly. The room beamed happily at her. Even
though the rich owners had wanted the human cleaning touch, she’d
learned early own that homes sometimes reflected their owners and both
human and magic cleaning were needed to make the house itself feel
pampered and cleaned.
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