In this excerpt you'll see that Fianna's not feeling the cold, not at all! It's a nice long excerpt so a cup of whatever you fancy might be in order...
Fianna's thirteen and always gung-ho to try the fabulous advanced interactive adventure games created by Callum Fraser, her biological father. Usually, she'd prefer not to have her twin brother Brian play alongside her, or his best buddy Aran. Aran's a general know-all who gets on her nerves, but often Callum gives her no choice.
Here's a bio for Fianna with some more information:
Fianna Fraser lives in Kintore, Aberdeenshire, Scotland. She'd love to have had a sister but all she got was a twin brother, Brian, who is a little younger than she is - all of eleven minutes younger! But she's sometimes sad to say those eleven minutes have made a huge difference to her growing up because her brother can often be a pain in the butt. Fianna thinks he needs to get a grip and not wait for her to make all the choices for both of them. Responsibility is fine, she thinks, up to a point. Being an adventurous sort, she thinks she's quite a resourceful person- people who know her would say that she's downright nosey!
This long excerpt is Chapter 12... and the action is heating up. The teens think they are playing an interactive game which time travels them back to AD 210 when the Ancient Roman Emperor Severus, and his evil son Caracalla, have marched their Roman legions all the way north in Britannia to the lands of the Taexali tribes. We now call that area Aberdeenshire, Scotland.
Is Fianna thinking it's all just a game? I'd love to know your answer after you read the chapter.
Enjoy!
(For up to date information about The Taexali Game and my Rubidium Time Travel Series new writing, 'like' my Rubidium Time Travel page on Facebook. Just click the link HERE)
****
“Have all the outer guards trebled.”
Aran could hear the man
bellow before he could even see him. Peeping out from behind the stall hanging,
he watched the chief bluster his way up the roundhouse calling for his washing
water. The man was in a foul mood. Again. Two warriors scurried after him
listening and arguing with him. At his stall, Tuadh turned to the men and
pointed a finger.
“Double the inner guard with
our youngest warriors. We will have our Beltane rights in peace. See that it is
done well.”
Disappearing inside his
cubicle, still muttering to himself, Tuadh left the two men at his doorway. The
warriors charged out of the roundhouse as though a hive of bees chased them.
Fianna crept into the boys’
stall. “Any idea what that was about?”
“Don’t reckon he was too
happy.” Brian edged along to make room for his sister on the cot.
“Something’s upset him for
sure, but then he always seems to be in a grumpy mood. Guess it must come with
the territory.” Aran sidled further away from Fianna who was now sitting
centrally between them.
Her face screwed up. “Whose
territory?”
“The job. My dad says that
if somebody is a big boss then he, or she, is always moaning about the
responsibility.”
“You’re the one charged with
our responsibility, and you’re doing plenty moaning right now.” Brian cackled,
nudging him off the bed.
“Yeah, well we haven’t
exactly been successful with the tasks Callum set for us.”
They had only recently
returned to the chief’s roundhouse, Seonagh having told them to wait there for
her.
Fianna was quick to answer. “We
have.”
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The look on his face must have
had her doubting her answer.
“Well, we’ve covered a few
of them.”
Aran didn’t feel so certain.
Brian didn’t look too sure either.
She continued. “You two have helped Tuadh by pointing
out where the Roman camps are going to be. I don’t think I’ve been nosey enough
yet, and that’s why I want to stay a bit longer.”
Brian started to recite
their list of objectives. “Where? We know we’re at Kintore. When? We think it’s
AD 210. Who? They’re the Taexali Balbathan tribe. Threats? The Romans are about to
come and smash them to pulp.”
“Nicely put, Brian. This is the sticky bit. We don’t know
yet if we need to give Tuadh more information to help his people.”
“Don’t forget the nasties.” Fianna’s heels drummed on
the wooden support struts of the cot. “We’re supposed to help them as well, and
before you say anything, Tyrnan isn’t one of the baddies. He’s just very
serious about his job of keeping an eye out for Seonagh. Seonagh says he’s the
best guard she’s ever had.”
“I’m warming up to Tyrnan but if he isn’t the baddy,
then who is? We don’t know that yet.”
Brian sounded sure. “That Roman Severus guy. It has to
be him. Hey, sis. Maybe you’re supposed to nosey around the Romans?”
“Sure thing, brother dear. If that’s the case, how am
I going to do that? Do you see me walking casually out of Balbath and wandering
down to the Roman marching camp at Deer’s Den? Am I going to find Severus and
tell him that I’ve been sent to help him? I don’t think Tuadh is going to let
that happen.”
“Evidence.” Aran tried to diffuse a twin argument from
developing. “We need to think about what the visual evidence might be that
Callum needs. Maybe if we focus on that, we’ll be successful with our other tasks,
like we have been with the name of the hill.”
Before Aran could say anything
else, Orla entered the stall looking very fine, her young daughter Caitlinn
accompanying her. Grabbing Fianna’s hand Caitlinn dragged her off the bed
chattering like a bubbly jock. The boys stood up, too.
“Come. We must not miss the
beginning.” Caitlinn was in a hurry.
Orla held the door curtain
open. “It is time to go, though you must remain close by me. Wear your cloaks.
After dusk falls, it will be cool.”
Outside the roundhouse was a
revelation. Many torches burned in high stands like the flambeau he’d seen on Caribbean holiday beaches, giving the growing dusk a
festive air. People milled around chattering excitedly.
The unearthly beating of
skin drums cut short the hubbub, the signal sound sending everyone scurrying
towards the settlement opening. Aran sensed the restrained excitement around
him as he and the other two trotted after Orla who clutched Caitlinn’s hand
very firmly with one hand, a lit torch brand in the other. Apart from a sizeable
number of young guards who were left at strategic places, everyone followed the
drumbeats, surging outside through the zigzag walkway and on towards the
training ground. Burning flares at the far end of the field beckoned the crowd.
When they reached the area,
the brands he’d seen were markers indicating where the stacks had been laid. He
grinned at Brian and Fianna, all of them caught up in the general excitement.
It was the same sort of anticipation he always felt when he stood around the
local bonfire. He was desperate to see what would happen since this was Guy
Fawkes Night with a huge difference.
The swell of people came to
an abrupt halt well before they reached the stacked wood; waiting for something.
It wasn’t long before the crowd parted to allow someone to pass forward to the
stacks.
Tuadh. A splendidly dressed Tuadh
whose gold torque gleamed in the flare of his torch brand, the hilt of his
sword and his unsheathed axe twinkling below. When the chief got to the first
of the bonfires, he raised his arms high above him and began to chant. Though
the words were difficult to make out it seemed he was incanting a spell to each
bonfire as he approached it. One by one, he lit each fire, each flickering into
action as the dry tinder ignited. When each was lit, the marker torch was cast
into the flames making the corridor between the fires even wider. Soon eight
roaring fires lit up the darkening blue dusk, four to each side of Tuadh.
To more ceremonial
drumbeating, Aran watched the elders of the tribe proceed up the now well lit
walkway towards the chief. Eventually coming to a halt, they arranged
themselves alongside or behind Tuadh, a few rows deep, facing the awaiting
tribespeople.
The drumbeat changed very
slightly.
“Follow me!” Caitlinn in her
firm grip, Orla moved through the noisy clutch of people and gradually made her
way along the fire corridor, to her hearth-husband.
Aran and the twins towed at
her heels, among the many people who now surged through the fire curtain. It
seemed to be the turn of important warriors, those of high rank but who had not
reached the status of being an elder of the tribe.
Orla whispered to Tuadh on
reaching him. After the chief nodded, she turned back to Aran.
“Follow.”
Orla was a woman of few
words. The twins at his side, he trailed after her and Caitlinn as she went to
one end of the row of elders, the bulk of the important tribespeople now
clustered alongside the chief.
“Stand next to me, Warrior
Aran.”
Another order from the
chief’s wife but Aran wasn’t too bothered since the view was good. Fianna stood
next to him, Brian on her far side.
Tuadh raised his hand, the
torch brand held aloft. He said nothing, yet at his signal, the crowd at the
far end quietened till the only sounds to be heard were the fires. They burned
brighter and brighter as the flames licked their snaking tongues to the topmost
wood. The sparks flew high, and the cracking and popping filled the now deepening
dusk. A column of puffing smoke rose majestically from each blaze, since there
was no wind to speak of. The wood smells were unmistakable as damp fiery debris
floated into the air around their cheery brightness.
Anticipation was palpable,
an edgy strain circling all around. Aran just knew something fantastic was
about to occur. Then, as though no mortal person started it, a different thrumming
rippled around him. From somewhere he couldn’t see, the low beat of the skin
drums rumbled through the air – sending an even deeper expectancy over the
throng. Eventually, when the tension had become almost unbearable, the faraway
crowd silently parted and from out of the inky blue dusk came the strangest,
most alarming figure he had ever seen. It walked with the body of a man, though
the head was a huge stag with glittering rings adorning the twisted full-grown
antlers.
It was fantastic!
It towered over the mass of
people who parted to allow the figure to be visible by Tuadh.
Aran shared a quick glance
with the twins. Fianna looked beside herself with glee. Brian all but hopped in
his enthusiasm, as well. Nobody else grinned around him, though. Whatever was
happening was a serious business to the people of Balbath. He suppressed the
smirk that wanted to escape; his stomach flutters of pure exhilaration and
expectation.
At the far end of the fire
corridor, the figure stopped in all its splendour.
Fianna gasped alongside and
he felt her trembling fingers clutch at his cloak. Her eyes glittered with
sheer excitement. Though it was an unearthly looking figure, he knew it was a
real live man underneath the strange helmet. Mapon was long gone, but he’d said
his acolyte would remain and what a substitute he was. The figure was
magnificent. In the tense hush around him, he truly appreciated the difference
between seeing something similar in 3D on a screen, and what he now experienced
in real live, seeing, smelling, touching… living.
Callum’s interactive story
was incredible.
He realised that he’d
actually forgotten about it being a story, being so drawn into the life at
Balbath. Right that moment, he was so glad to be experiencing it.
The druid acolyte carried a
strange staff, not unlike Mapon’s, but this one had a shining silvery animal
head atop the shaft. Huge twisting antlers made it easy for him to recognise
the head as that of a full antlered stag, which matched the figure’s
magnificent headdress. The staff-top glittered malevolently in the firelight as
the acolyte held it aloft, the weight needing both his hands to hold it high.
The billowing robe he wore trailed around as he headed for the fire corridor
with long strides.
When the druid’s footfall
passed the furthest away fire, a carnyx shrieked its terrifying resonance
alongside Aran, notes that lingered in the gloom. The tension amongst the
multitude was so powerful he felt it ripple through him. It wasn’t a frightening
feeling: more of an extreme exhilaration. Any of these objects – staff, headdress
or carnyx – would be incredible evidence to take back to Callum. How could that
happen though?
Without looking down, he
became aware of Caitlinn who’d slipped from her mother’s grip. Sneaking in
between him and Fianna the little girl bristled with anticipation. Orla nodded
her approval when he glanced her way to indicate he was aware of her daughter.
When the last resonance of the carnyx could be heard no longer, the acolyte’s
voice replaced it from that furthest away fire, carrying mournfully up into the
cloudless, now star-studded navy sky.
“Cernunnos, Lord of Darkness…”
Brian nudged Aran in the
ribs as he mouthed, “Cernunnos strikes again.” His toothy grin shone white in
the flickering firelight.
“Shut up and listen!” Aran
whispered in his friend’s ear, wanting to be respectful.
The druid intoned a deep boom
across the moonlight.
“Go with thanks. Yet come
with blessings. With the mother-earth, Brighde, bring energy to our fires.”
The sounds of his chanting
sent creepy shudders through Aran. Fianna dug her nails into his arm, her
trembling transferring right through the fabric of his tunic. Caitlinn snuggled
in even closer to him when the druid slowly paced his way up through the fire
passageway, his eerie incantation increasing in volume as he walked towards
them. Lamenting the passing of the dark winter moons his dirge was now
addressed to Brighde, the name sounding a bit like the word bride – the name
Aran knew to be the mother earth goddess. The acolyte came to a stop in front
of the chief and his elders, and thumped the bottom of his staff to the ground.
So close now, Aran could see
the mouth and chin of the mask had been cleverly cut away to allow the druid’s
voice to be heard clearly. The man’s fierce eyes stared from eye sockets that
had also been carved out. A soft hush came from the gathering then they all
started to intone very softly in unison after he began to chant again.
“Healing fires. Burn
brightly. Burn! Inflame us with your fiery strength. Bring us forth your
fruitful blossoms. Let your sun shine brightly on us.”
The chant repeated itself as
the trainee druid’s arms opened wide, first pointing dramatically to the right
and then to the left. At the far end, the crowd parted. Still chanting, some of
them moved off to the left and others to the right behind the fires leaving the
far end of the walkway opposite Tuadh totally empty.
Aran looked around him.
Everyone chanted quietly with only the smallest of children not joining in.
Pretending to know the words Aran mouthed silently. Looking at Fianna and Brian
he was thankful to see they tried to do the same. Better not to look too
suspicious since it looked like they ought to know the words.
When the tribespeople were
all settled well behind the fires, the high ranking warriors of the tribe came
out and drove their spears into the ground, purposely set closely together like
a barrier, alongside the staff of the druid. The line of weapons made a wall in
front of Tuadh.
The people no longer chanted
solemnly. Their pace had quickened, the verse growing louder and louder till it
became a deafening roar. Yet, again, the sound of the shrieking carnyx stopped
its momentum.
Into the immediate and dead
silence came another disturbingly strange noise. Through the darkness, from
beyond the rise at the far end of the training ground, came the loudest protest
of bellowing animals that Aran had ever heard. The yelling of the farmers was
impressive as they herded the poor beasts into a long funnel at the far end of
the fire passage, a funnel created by a wall of warriors. The animals, clearly
terrified of the flames and smoky smells ahead of them, lowed and snorted and
bucked as they tried to evade their fate.
Standing in front of his
staff, the druid’s voice roared above their din.
“Brighde, mother goddess,
giver of life, purify our animals and bring bountiful fruit. Bring your sun’s
energy to them through our conflagration.”
The crowd repeated the chant
three times then stopped. They hushed again and waited for him to finish his
entreaty. This time the druid’s voice was different. Not a chant any more as a
druid, but the warning of a mortal man.
“This Beltane must be
different, people of Balbath. Let your animals be sacrificed again rather than
yourselves.”
The crowd’s low moan was
eerie. All around them Aran and the twins could feel the alarm of the people of
Balbath…though they could also see determination in their faces. Were the
animals going to be sacrificed on these fires? Aran felt Caitlinn burrow in
closer to his leg.
“Are they going to burn
these poor cows, Aran?” Fianna whispered in his ear.
Aran’s head shaking was her
only reply as the druid returned to his prayers. In actual fact, he hadn’t a
clue what was about to happen.
“Let these healthy animals
aid us to fight our foe as they did last Lughnasadh.” After the druid warned
another time, he walked to one end of the spears and gestured to the people
ranged behind the fires on that side, his arms waving towards the sky in a wide
circular movement.
His silent signal didn’t
make any sense to Aran. It still made no sense when the druid walked to
opposite end of the spears and made the same gestures.
Returning to his staff, his
arms and stag’s head rose skywards in open supplication. His voice reached epic
strength as he bawled a prayer to the heavens.
“Oh, mighty Taranis, from
your realm above, give our animals your blessing!”
On the last word, the corral
of warriors holding back the cows began to split open. The first of the animals
was lashed into movement, forced to launch itself down the avenue of fire
towards the druid. The thwacking of birch switches, and the cries of farmers
alongside the terrified beast, kept it in motion as it howled and screeched
through the fire corridor. The rest of the animals surged forwards into the
walkway on the hooves of the first. Running alongside the lowing beasts, to
keep them in order, the farmers kept up their hollers.
It was like a
mini-earthquake as the cows thudded their way up the glowing orange and red
channel. Aran watched the people of Balbath kneel down at their place behind
the fires as the beasts proceeded through the fire corridor. The tribespeople
touched both hands to the earth below them to feel the pounding of the beasts.
Women pulled down some now screaming and howling infants as the great charging
of hooves rocked the soil beneath them, the reverberations rippling below the
whole arena. Aran felt Caitlinn pull him down, Fianna and Brian following suit
mimicking the tribespeople, since the elders alongside him had knelt to the
ground as well.
The terrified cattle reached
Tuadh’s end of the fire corridor. One by one, they hurtled themselves right or
left when they were confronted by the line of spears. Once they had turned, they
loped away from the crowds to disappear out into the darkness, where other
warriors waited ready to quieten them. Aran understood the significance of the
druid’s arm gestures now. The druid had been ensuring the space was cleared for
the beasts’ exit.
When rounded up, the
terrified cattle would be taken back to their enclosures.
As the last few animals
started their charge, a huge and totally deafening roar went up from the crowd,
drowning out the thunder of the cows as the people heralded the end of their cleansing
ceremony. The few cows that remained bucked and swerved, here and there, trying
to run off but were completely distracted by the human clamour around them.
One bewildered animal
escaped the handlers and swivelled between the last two fires instead of
completing the journey along the whole fire corridor. Terrified shrieks rent
the air as the beast trampled over two men in the front row, pounding them into
the ground, smashing limbs to pulp as the creature blasted headlong for the
darkness beyond the kneeling people. Panic set in as the throng scattered in
all directions away from the snorting and crazy beast. Not knowing which way to
go in its headlong flight, it constantly changed direction.
“Flee!” Orla cried as the beast
whirled towards them.
Aran felt his cloak yanked
back as he leapt to his feet, the warrior behind him dragging him away. Brian’s
shout indicated much the same was happening to him as he, too, cried out.
“Run, Fianna!”
Caitlinn whimpered in front
of Fianna, too transfixed to even get to her feet. Scooping her up by the
shoulders Fianna whirled the little girl out of the animal’s path, throwing her
aside like a Frisbee and straight into the arms of a warrior who rushed to help
them. Her back now to the animal, Fianna began to run but she’d only taken a
couple of steps when its head pounded into her, pitching her high into the air
like a rag doll before it charged off into the now cleared space around her.
Fianna thumped to the
ground.
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