Spoiler warning! Don’t read these if you haven’t yet read The Sixth Labyrinth!
“You’re hurting my ears, child. Where have you been?”
“Walking by the bay.”
“I wish you’d come back before dark, Sophie.”
“Because of the selkie?”
Eleanor laughed. “Because I don’t want you getting lost, or falling and hurting yourself.”
“Auntie, listen to me!”
“I saw it!”
“The selkie! It came out of the water and turned into a man.”
“Ah, well, it must have been a selkie then. What did he look like?”
“He was old. His hair was white. Long, like a king’s. He was tall.”
“And what did he do?” Eleanor pushed her great-niece into a chair and brought her a slice of orange marmalade cake.
“He went over to that old blackhouse by the bay.”
“Aye. He was greeting, Auntie!”
“Was he? And what did you do?”
“I watched and didn’t make a sound.”
“Aye, thank you. Olivia Ramsay says it’s bad luck to go to the beach at the full moon.”
“That’s a well-worn tale meant to get children home before dark.”
“She said anyone who does it is cursed. She said only fools walk on Glenelg’s beach during the full moon.”
“Olivia Ramsay has an imagination.”
“She said the selkie is her da’s brother.”
“So Curran Ramsay has a selkie brother, does he?”
“She says the selkie cries for the human girl he loved and lost.”
“Is that so?”
“Auntie, I don’t want to go home.”
“You must. If you never went home, your mam and da would miss you and be sad.”
“Like the selkie?”
“Aye. Like the selkie.”
“Why is it sad? Did it really lose its true love?”
“How would I know?”
“You know everything.”
“Oh, child, I wish I did.”
“You do know, though. I can tell. You look sad, too.”
“I can pity those who suffer, even when they might deserve it.”
The first of September became the traditional date for holding an annual charity fundraiser at Kilgarry for the orphan project, as the weather was generally beautiful and the Michaelmas daisies were in bloom. It soon became the social event throughout the surrounding Highland counties, drawing Curran’s wealthy friends and associates from Glasgow, Edinburgh, and even as far as London. Every year the guest list grew, until Glenelg had to build a new inn to accommodate those who couldn’t fit into Kilgarry. Extra help was hired from Fort William and Mallaig to assist with cooking, cleaning, and serving; musicians were brought in for the evening balls and dances, and the manor house nearly burst its seams with so many people.
The first of September 1883 cooperated with warm sunlight and gentle breezes. Pavilions and tables were set up around Kilgarry’s pond, near the old oak. Guests wandered in and out of the gardens, enjoying lemonade, tea, and whisky, and there was a great deal of food for anyone who was hungry, as well as horseback riding, hunting, fishing, archery, and of course the ballroom was in great demand every night. The ferryman was kept busy transporting explorers to Skye for sightseeing, and for the most intrepid, there was mountain climbing. Interspersed with all the entertainment were the speeches, promises, and donations.
Morrigan, Eleanor, and Diorbhail sat together upon cushioned chairs beneath the oak, a table between them holding lemonade and cakes.
“You haven’t taken your eyes off Mr. Abernathy,” Morrigan said to Eleanor, only half teasing. “Are you going to marry him and leave us?”
With one of her signature snorts, she replied, “The most he’ll get from me is a night or two. He is rather handsome.”
“Eleanor!” Morrigan pretended shock then giggled with Diorbhail at the midwife’s brazen ways, but a moment later, she winced and rubbed the side of her stomach.
As usual, Eleanor didn’t miss it, and questioned with raised eyebrows.
“It’s fine,” Morrigan said. “Just my bones being stretched. I remember this from Olivia and Eirene.”
“It won’t be long now,” said Diorbhail. “We’ll have another wee lass to spoil.”
“I do think Curran might want a son. Can you arrange that?”
“No,” Diorbhail said with a wide smile. “You’ll only ever have girls. Girls and more girls. If you were having all the babies, the world would die out for lack of boys.”
At that moment wee Seaghan ran up to them, nearly falling as he hadn’t quite mastered running yet, and placed his fists on Morrigan’s knees. His right hand was stuffed with daisies, and he turned up his face, seeking approval.
“Are these for me?” she asked, taking them.
He nodded. She picked him up and placed him on her lap. “You’re a grand lad,” she said, kissing his cheek, and he nestled in as best he could against her.
To think what might have become of him, if he hadn’t been found two years ago in that awful place in London, barely six weeks old, sold by his father. Now he lived at Kilgarry, and had twenty other orphans for playmates, along with the local children, and since he’d had no name, he was called Seaghan in honor of Morrigan’s father, even though hearing it made her suffer his loss all over again.
Seaghan’s body was found, stuffed under a pile of rocks, a week after the events on Mingulay. Someone had murdered him with a knife, and a local man went missing right after, but he was never found, and the investigation languished. Right when Morrigan learned she had a true father, he was taken from her; not being able to speak to him as his child remained an unrelenting anguish and regret.
Soon Sophie joined them. Eleanor’s great-niece was a little lady, at ten. She and Olivia were the same age and the best of friends, though very different, with Olivia being a wild boyish child who, more often than not, could be found in the branches of the oak rather than sitting demurely beneath it. Sophie came to Glenelg every summer at her own insistence to stay with her aunt. She never wanted to go home to Edinburgh, though she loved her mother and father, and often wept for missing them. Her dream of a perfect world was one in which her papa agreed to move to Glenelg.
She perched on the edge of a chair and sipped tea.
“What is it?” Eleanor asked, in her usual perceptive way.
The girl didn’t answer immediately, but pursed her lips and frowned.
“Well?” Eleanor pressed.
“Livvy’s telling that story again,” the child said in her soft Edinburgh brogue.
“Which one?” Morrigan asked. Olivia loved making up tales. She was turning into Kilgarry’s own seanchaidh.
Sophie would only say that she wasn’t supposed to tell, but she hated the story because Livvy always refused to give her a part in it.
“Where have those lasses gone off to?” Diorbhail asked then. “I haven’t seen any of them in an hour.”
It was true. There was no sign of the local girls. “We’d best find them,” Morrigan said, “before they get up to mischief, if they haven’t already.”
Sophie wanted to stay, have cake, and admire the pretty dresses, so the three cronies left Seaghan with her and went off in search of the missing girls. They weren’t at the pond, nor the walled garden, or the gazebo. Guests stopped them to chat and ask after Morrigan’s health as she neared her ninth month of pregnancy, hampering their search. Lily found them and reported happily that Sir John Beechforth had promised to donate a building in Soho that had been in his family, unused, for years. She whispered that the old sot hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her bosoms, so she credited them for the prize.
Eventually, the three took note of a striped pavilion set some distance away from the others, and Diorbhail remembered that Olivia had asked Kyle and Logan to erect it for her and her friends.
They couldn’t see the children as they walked up, but heard a flurry of female chatter, and paused outside the pavilion to listen.
“How many sisters do you have?”
Morrigan recognized the voice of Rachel’s daughter, Jean.
“I don’t know,” she heard Olivia reply. “Lots.”
“Am I there?” This was asked by Eirene, Olivia’s younger sister.
“Of course you’re there,” Olivia said impatiently. “I told you already. The new sister will be there too. All my sisters will be there, all, from the first.”
“But how, if they’re dead?” This was Jean again. Though she was only nine months older than Olivia, she often expressed disdain for what she called the younger girl’s silliness.
Olivia huffed. “The lady says they’ll come back to life and we’ll be together.”
“People don’t come back to life,” Jean said.
“My sisters will. The lady promised.”
“How can they be your sisters? Your mam’s only had the two of you.”
“I want to dream of my other sisters!” Eirene said plaintively.
“Maybe you’re not old enough,” Olivia said. “I only started having the dream two months ago.”
“Tell us their names again,” Jean asked. She sounded disbelieving, like she thought she might catch Olivia in a mistake and prove the tale was make-believe.
Olivia gave a sigh and Morrigan heard a whimper, probably from Violet’s baby, Grace. Olivia loved that child, and was always running off with her.
As she began to speak, a large eagle landed on a nearby rowan branch. It made no sound but cocked its head and leveled the women with a fierce stare.
“There’s Romy and Claire and Evie. There’s… oh aye, Rosabel. And the ones with the unco names— Xanthe and Pasithea. And Iphiboë. And Alecto. And the new baby. The lady said her name will be Willow.”
Morrigan had sagged against Diorbhail as Olivia spoke the first three names. Her legs felt too weak to support her.
“Alecto,” Diorbhail whispered.
Morrigan took in a breath and straightened. The three women regarded each other, their eyes shining, and reached out, placing their hands on each other’s shoulders, creating a perfect circle.
The jeweler frowned upon seeing the items. He spent a long time studying them with his magnifier, turning them over repeatedly.
“What is it, Philip?” Curran finally asked. “Are they sham? Stolen?”
“No, Mr. Ramsay. Well, I know nothing about any theft. I do not believe they are imitation. Excuse me, sir.”
He went through a curtain into the back and soon returned with another man, who also inspected the knife and necklace carefully.
They spoke together in low, rapid Greek. Curran understood only a few words, having lost most of the Greek he’d learned at university.
“Will one of you tell me what is so interesting?” he interrupted.
The two men exchanged glances. Philip, whose surname, Curran suddenly remembered, was Christopoulos, said, “I believe these are ancient, truly ancient, but I would like the opinion of an expert. There is a fellow connected to the new museum in Athens, the National Archaeological Museum. With your permission, I would like to take these items there for him to examine.”
“You want to take them to Athens? I don’t know. They belong to my wife. It took her years to agree to this appraisal.”
The men exchanged another glance.
“You aren’t telling me everything,” Curran said.
“How did she acquire these pieces, may I ask?”
“They were gifts.”
“From a collector, perhaps?”
“No. Just a man.”
Christopoulos stared at him, frowning deeply.
“They are stolen. Is that what you are not saying?”
“No, no, Mr. Ramsay. Please forgive me. It is odd, of course, how pieces of such antiquity could spend years in… your wife’s possession? These should be in a museum.”
“And you have now suggested that twice. What guarantee do I have, Philip, that they will be returned if you take them to Athens?”
The door at the front of the shop opened just then and Morrigan came in, flanked by Diorbhail.
“There you are.” Curran held out his hand.
She came forward, clasping his hand and smiling at the two men behind the counter. “We’re finished with our errands,” she said, and perused the knife and necklace. “Well? Is there a verdict?”
“Not really. These men want to take your antiquities to Athens.”
Morrigan did not react as he’d thought she would. She blinked, but her smile didn’t falter. “They are wonderful, aren’t they?” she said.
“Yes, Lady Eilginn,” Philip said. “In fact, they are astonishing.”
The other man came out from behind the counter. “I am Spiro Michelakis, Mrs. Ramsay,” he said. Philip sounded like a native Londoner, but Spiro’s Greek accent was pronounced.
She held out her hand and he took it briefly. “May I tell you about our new museum in Athens?” he asked.
“There’s a new museum? I would be very interested,” she replied, and the two walked over to another counter, where he brought out several cases as he spoke to her.
“Mr. Ramsay, sir,” Philip said, “Greece has a moral right to her artifacts.”
“You are certain these are Greek.”
“The meander on the necklace suggests it might be Cretan. There have been other items found there with this pattern.”
“Does that mean something to you, Mr. Ramsay?”
“How was the knife broken?”
“It was dropped. I suppose that hurts its value.”
“I suspect nothing could harm the value of these pieces.” He picked up the knife, very carefully, and ran his thumb over the sheared-off edge. “Obsidian,” he murmured. “The hilt is ivory.”
“My wife believes the figure is Athene.”
“Oh yes, no doubt of it. The owl and the aegis tell us this.” His eyes filled with tears.
“Philip?” Curran said. “What have I done?”
“Oh, sir, it’s just that… look here. You can see the tool marks. I feel certain I am holding something in my hands that was created thousands of years ago, in my country, by men just like me, perhaps. Artisans. I feel them, you see, in my flesh. I feel I am looking through their eyes as they carve this image. I can almost smell their forge fires.”
Curran didn’t know what to say. It was odd, for he too sometimes saw flashes of things when he held the necklace and the knife.
“Is your wife knowledgeable about our history?” Philip asked.
“Very much so.”
Morrigan returned to his side. “Curran, I have an idea. You know how Livvy has always wanted to see an excavation. Let’s gather up the weans and go with these gentlemen to Athens and see their museum for ourselves.”
“We can take the lasses to see Schliemann’s Troy and his other excavations, at Mycenae, and Tiryns.”
“I would be honored to escort you to Crete,” Spiro said as he joined them. “Sixteen years ago, part of a building was dug up beneath a mound there, and many of our antiquarians believe this is the actual palace of Knossos— the legendary place named in Homer’s Odyssey! And as I was just telling your wife, sir, I am most intrigued by the pattern on your necklace, for it matches the pattern on coins that have been discovered nearby.”
Morrigan’s excitement was clear to see, as was Diorbhail’s. Curran felt excitement rise inside him as well, almost as though he was contemplating going home.
His wife was looking at him in that way she had, communicating without words.
He realized he was nodding.
So be it. They would embark on a new pilgrimage— this time with their children.
“I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me.” ~~~~Robert Louis Stevenson
In The Child of the Erinyes, a series dealing with reincarnation, only one of the main characters retains memories from previous lives. Because the others come back with a clean slate, so to speak, I’ve had to work out how they find each other in every new experience.
One of several methods I use is the aura. It’s part of what draws the triad and keeps them together.
Auras are interesting phenomena. Described variously as “a breath,” “an emanation,” “a vibration,” and an “electromagnetic field,” these are colors that circle around people, invisible to most of us, but seen or sensed by some. Individual colors mean rather specific things, though there isn’t always agreement on what.
Brilliant, clean colors envelop people who are farther along on the spiritual trail, “higher beings,” while muddy, dark colors point to trouble—a person mired in distress, hate, or sickness.
Thoughts and feelings can alter the color and density of the aura. When colors flash and change swiftly, it’s an alert that thoughts and emotions are in flux.
Generally, auras are made up of a mix of colors, though one will be dominant.
Since our auras come in a wide panorama from subtle pastel to blazing primary, I needed to understand these characters and their desires/motivations on a deep level in order to choose the most appropriate aura. Here are the ones I used and why.
Stranraer, Scotland, 1872: the first time Morrigan Lawton sees the stranger Curran Ramsay, he is standing inside a train getting ready to step off, and is in shadow. She’s looking up at him from the outside.
“A mist of color surrounded the being on the step, like a rainbow glimmering through watery clouds, but this rainbow offered only the blue spectrum, with hints of violet.”
Blue signals a person who is visionary, intuitive, and sensitive. But an aura isn’t simply “blue.” There are different shades of blue, and Curran (Menoetius from the Bronze Age) has them all in abundance. His aura communicates his ability to accept others and love deeply. Vivid blue tells us he is generous and spiritual. Indigo deepens that. Violet reveals that he is idealistic, even somewhat magical.
Curran Ramsay also sees Morrigan’s aura. He describes it as pure gold, glittering like a sea of mica, with entwining whispers of lavender.
Gold is a rarely seen aura, so of course I reserved it for the high point of the triangle, Goddess Athene’s child and brightest hope, Aridela—Morrigan Lawton in this incarnation. A person washed in gold is protected by divine beings. He or she walks a special, guided path. Lavender affirms that Morrigan is as much a visionary as Curran, but also a daydreamer—someone with a very active imagination.
Later, in Glenelg, Morrigan is introduced to the local midwife and healer, Eleanor Graeme, whose aura is a restful green. Green is not only a healer’s color but a teacher’s, a person who wants to help others. As Eleanor is the reincarnated Themiste from the Bronze Age, it makes sense. Themiste’s most ardent desire was to follow Aridela, to help her and make amends for the things she felt she had done wrong.
Chrysaleon of Mycenae is the problem child of the series, and in The Sixth Labyrinth, his aura displays this. Here he is Aodhàn Mackinnon, a guy with plenty of secrets—and the only character burdened by previous life memories. Perhaps that’s why his aura is red, with accents of orange, and sometimes mud! A red aura suggests a person who is not so advanced spiritually. He or she is stuck in earthly interests like jealousy, anger, sexual obsessions, and amassing power. It’s not always a bad color: it can mean dedication, and as noted in The Sixth Labyrinth, can be the prevailing color in rebels, ascetics, and artists—anyone who is passionate about something. Orange combined with red announces Aodhàn’s deeply rooted need to control things. It has, after all, kept his defiance alive and fired up for over three thousand years at this point.
Lastly, we have Diorbhail Sinclair—the reincarnated Selene. Selene is arguably the most resplendent champion of my saga so far: I actually refer to her in my own mind as the “Samwise Gamgee” of The Child of the Erinyes, and not surprisingly, she has the most complex aura. Hers is overwhelmingly white, and this is the color I had the most trouble researching. On the one hand, white can be interpreted as undiluted potential, a personality in transcendence. Some say angels themselves are cloaked in white. It represents not only spiritual qualities but also concentrated truth. On the other hand, there are those who believe white alludes to disease, near death, or a disordered noise, a failing of balance and harmony. After reading these opposing definitions, I knew white was the perfect choice for Diorbhail. She ardently wants to help her friend, Morrigan, but her allegiances are conflicted by her love for Curran, who is Morrigan’s husband. Loyalty fighting desire fighting resentment—as it was in the Bronze Age. She is on the verge of ascendance, but is held back by these earthly factors.
Curran’s aura also turns white during times of high emotion, for instance when the submerged Menoetius responds to the submerged Selene. They are, and always will be, connected.
The contrary qualities of Diorbhail’s white aura are set off by traces of pink—a promise that this woman is close to achieving the highest balance of all. Diorbhail’s is the most dazzling of all the auras in The Sixth Labyrinth. It nearly blinds Aodhàn.
It was quite fun learning about auras. After researching them, I pondered their influence outside of novels. Perhaps they play a part when we meet someone for the first time and are inexplicably repelled or attracted. It could be we are subliminally seeing and responding to that person’s aura.
So… the next time someone seems to be avoiding you, or you feel strangely turned off by a new acquaintance, maybe it’s not because of the onions at lunch. The reason could be a far more subtle influence—the influence of color!
Pre-order at the following places:
Will be live on Friday, April 8, at Barnes & Noble, HERE
The Child of the Erinyes is an eight-book journey spanning 4000 years. Beginning in the Bronze Age, it follows the lives of two men and a woman as they are reborn seven times through history. The Sixth Labyrinth, Book 4 of the series, is being released 8 April, 2016.
Greetings and Happy New Year!
I wanted to let everyone know that my exclusive enrollment period with Amazon has run its course, and my books are available everywhere again…Barnes & Noble, Google Play, Kobo, iTunes, Scribd, Inktera, and of course they’re still at Amazon.
Here are all the links. (They’re listed at my website as well.) iTunes is taking its time approving a couple of them, but they’ll be live soon.
Thank you to everyone who has gone to the trouble and cost to acquire one of my books, and taken the time to read it, and put forth the effort to review! During my recent Amazon Select promo, nearly 21000 copies of The Year-god’s Daughter and The Moon Casts a Spell were downloaded all over the world.
The Year-god’s Daughter (Book One):
The Thinara King (Book Two):
In the Moon of Asterion (Book Three):
The Moon Casts a Spell (Book 3.5 A Novella):
Child of the Erinyes Collection, A Boxed Set of the first three novels:
“The beautiful and mysterious cover of ‘The Moon casts a spell’ perfectly illustrates the events of this subtle book, the fourth episode of Rebecca Lochlann’s powerful love story, ‘The Child of the Erinyes’. Three lovers reincarnate, drawn together by the emotional tangle that binds them. Unfortunately, hatred sustains another protagonist who pursues the lovers across the centuries, bringing destruction and death.”
“Superbly written with compelling characters, this novella is my favorite, so far, in The Child of Erinyes series.”
The series skips a few thousand years to take up Aridela’s story in Victorian Scotland.
The Child of the Erinyes
Book Four, a Novella prequel introducing
Book Five, The Sixth Labyrinth
The Moon Casts a Spell dips into one of the triad’s seven lives, on the remote isle of Barra, in Scotland’s Outer Hebrides.
Set just before The Sixth Labyrinth begins, in the tumultuous Victorian years from the 1830s to 1853, The Moon Casts a Spell brings Athene’s triad together again as they work their way through the seven lives they are bound to experience.
This book is currently available in digital form only. Paperback coming.
Click HERE for the Multi-Region Amazon link
The Moon Casts a Spell is available everywhere. See “Links to Purchase” tab.
A tale of star-crossed love, of superstition and zealotry, as a goddess brings her ancient triad together again on the windswept isle of Barra, in Scotland’s Outer Hebrides.
The Chief of Clan MacNeil is forced to sell his ancestral island to John Gordon of Cluny, a mainlander. No one knows what to expect. Will life get better or worse? Will John Gordon take care of his tenants or evict them, like so many other landowners are doing?
* * * * *
Impetuous, irreverent, derided as Barra’s peculiar changeling, Lilith Kelso has little use for anyone but Daniel Carson, the orphan her mother has taken in. Everyone expects them to marry someday.
But then John Gordon buys the island. He sends his steward to collect rents and squeeze out profits.
The steward doesn’t come alone. He brings his son, and nothing will ever be the same.
Click HERE to read a sample at Amazon.
* * * * *
I’d like to invite you to sign up for my email newsletter, which I use ONLY to announce new releases and to offer subscribers special offers. I will never spam, or clutter up your inbox with chatter, nor will I ever share your email address. It’s easy: just enter your email address, approve it, and, to be safe, add it to your approved addresses so it doesn’t disappear into a junk folder. Here’s the link.
“Duh,” you might be thinking. “Why did she never do this before?” Good question. A light bulb finally went off in my brain and I have rectified my lapse, which means that a digital box set of the first three books in The Child of the Erinyes series is available at Amazon!
Honestly, the Bronze Age segment of the series was always meant to be ONE book. That’s how it was written. But it was just too big. Put all together, it runs nearly 900 pages. As a new author, I didn’t think anyone would be willing to take a chance on such an enormous story, especially in print form, (so heavy!) and those with far more experience advised me to split it up. But my heart always wanted it to be one, so I am thrilled to announce this new release. The entire Bronze Age portion can now be read in one fell swoop, and priced at $7.99, that makes one of the books FREE when compared to buying each separately.
The ebook boxed set includes the following full-length novels: The Year-god’s Daughter, The Thinara King, and In the Moon of Asterion. There is also a preview to Book Four, The Sixth Labyrinth, at the end, and NEW CONTENT, never before posted anywhere, from Book Five, When the Moon Whispers, and Book Six, Swimming in the Rainbow.
As you may or may not know, the first three books encompass the “beginning,” of The Child of the Erinyes series. All three are set in the Bronze Age–1600s BCE Crete, (and Mycenae)–to be exact, during the era of the cataclysmal volcanic eruption on the island north of Crete, nowadays called Santorini. (In my books, it’s called Callisti, one of its ancient names.) It’s a coming of age tale, a mythic saga, a story of love, hate, lies, subterfuge, the struggle for power, and the hope of redemption.
For ninety days, I’ll be pulling the books from other retailers in order to comply with Amazon’s requirements so that I can run a few handy-dandy promotions. Which means two things: if you read books on a Kindle, keep an eye on Amazon for upcoming special deals on the individual books, and, if you’re a member of the Amazon Kindle Unlimited program, you can read each book for free.
Once the box set is up and running, I’ll be able to get back to work on The Sixth Labyrinth. It, too, is a colossal book: nevertheless, I’m hoping to publish it in one volume, and the one after that, as well, if possible. The last book of the series (Swimming in the Rainbow) is currently a mere 70,000 words–hardly bigger than a novella!
For those of you who have already read the Bronze Age portion of the series, I hope to whet your appetites for what is still to come.
A silenced but enduring Goddess has seen her place in the souls of humans systematically destroyed, but she bides her time. For Athene, thousands of years mean nothing.
The Bronze Age prophecy:
I have lived many lives since the beginning, and so shalt thou. I have been given many names and many faces. So shalt thou, and thou wilt follow me from reverence and worship into obscurity. In an unbroken line wilt thou return, my daughter. Thou shalt be called Eamhair of the sea, who brings them closer, and Shashi, sacrificed to deify man. Thy names are Caparina, Lilith, and the sorrowful Morrigan, who drives them far apart. Thou wilt step upon the earth seven times, far into the veiled future. Seven labyrinths shalt thou wander, lost, and thou too wilt forget me. Suffering and despair shall be thy nourishment. Misery shall poison thy blood. Thou wilt breathe the air of slavery for as long as thou art blinded. For thou art the earth, blessed and eternal, yet thou shalt be pierced, defiled, broken and wounded, even as I have been. Thou wilt generate inexhaustible adoration and contempt. Until these opposites are united, all will strangle within the void.
She vowed to bring back her daughter and “an immortal corps” of followers, and she does. Aridela and her companions experience history first hand, living it as it unfolds, not as royalty any longer but as ordinary human beings with extraordinary psyches.
The Sixth Labyrinth: nineteen-year-old Morrigan Lawton knows she is different–fears she could be a changeling, or even mad. She tries to hide her oddities, because this era in history is quite fond of their insane asylums–especially for women. She is plagued by nightmares, sacrilegious thoughts, an intense imagination, and an indomitable nature that just doesn’t fit in straitlaced, conservative Stranraer, Scotland, during a very tightly corseted and patriarchal Victorian era.
Her wild, high-flying spirit is nearly crushed beneath the expectations and mores of the time, not to mention her father’s iron fist. Thankfully, change arrives in the form of one Curran Ramsay, a young landowner from the Highlands. Is their meeting chance, or was it designed? Where is the third point of the triad…and the rest of the immortal corps promised by Athene? All are brought together again, to live and learn in a place very far removed from the palace and labyrinth on Crete so long ago.
The setting has a big role to play in this sweeping tale, from sleepy Stranraer on the shores of Loch Ryan to the remote, enchanted village of Glenelg, tucked beneath the imposing summits of the Five Sisters of Kintail. Here, in a spot still utterly devoted to the mystical beliefs of a rich Celtic past, Morrigan comes face to face with destiny. The story stays on the move, to moody Loch Torridon, to the thundering 900 foot cliffs at Cape Wrath, to cosmopolitan London, and finally, to the awe-inspiring, sea-scoured Hebrides islands.
Why Scotland? I needed a change of scene, a completely different culture, new research challenges. So did my protagonists! Scotland is a magical place, where the veil between ancient myth and mortals is thin. I spent a month in Scotland visiting these settings while researching the book, and believe me, there is something about it that I have never sensed anywhere else–especially at the haunting ruins of Castle Kennedy, not far from Stranraer.
The Sixth Labyrinth will be accompanied by two companion novellas: these can be read before, after, during the main story, or not at all. If you read The Sixth Labyrinth and find yourself wondering more about Morrigan’s father and mother, or what sparked the instant, incomprehensible attraction between Morrigan and a certain poor fisherman, all is revealed in the novellas. There are hints of future events as well.
I was raised on huge books. I like feeling immersed in a big, encompassing tale. I hope there are others who feel the same way, and if A Game of Thrones is any indication, there remains a healthy contingent of long-story lovers out there. So I offer my usual disclaimer: it’s not for everyone, but if you enjoy disappearing into a long, complex saga with sequels, what I like to call a myth with meat, I hope you’ll give The Child of the Erinyes a try.
Bibliographies, myths, history, links to excerpts, and more can be found at my website: Rebecca Lochlann
The Thinara King, multi-region link: Amazon
In the Moon of Asterion, multi-region link: Amazon
FREE FREE FREE
THE BEGINNING TO THE EPIC SERIES, THE CHILD OF THE ERINYES
by Rebecca Lochlann
Friday, May 25th is the last day to grab a free copy of The Year-god’s Daughter for your Kindle. Pop on over to Amazon before the giveaway ends tonight!
Click HERE to download a copy.
The Year-god’s Daughter
For time beyond memory, Crete has sacrificed its king to ensure good harvests, ward off earthquakes, and please the Goddess. Men compete in brutal trials to win the title of Zagreus, the sacred bull-king, even though winning means they’ll die in a year.
Two brothers from predatory Mycenae set out to thwart the competition and their deaths as they search for exploitable weaknesses in this rich, coveted society.
Hindering their goal is the seductive and fearless Cretan princess, Aridela, an uncommon woman neither man can resist, and ancient prophecies, which predict that any threat to her people will spark Goddess Athene’s terrible wrath in a calamity of unimaginable consequences.
The sequel to The Year-god’s Daughter is now available as well, and Book Three, In the Moon of Asterion, will arrive soon.
The Thinara King
Goddess Athene’s white-hot rage incinerates the isle of Callisti and inflames the seas. Crete is left in ruins.
Ash, earthquakes and tsunamis devastate Crete. The will of the survivors fades as the skies remain dark and frost blackens the crops. Aridela must find a way to revive the spirit of her people along with rebuilding her country’s defenses.
More threats loom on the horizon. Greek kingdoms see a weakened Crete as easy prey. And now Chrysaleon, he who carries the ancient title of Thinara King, feels the shadow of Death over his shoulder.
Will he thwart his fate? No other man ever has.
The author of Of Moths and Butterflies, V.R. Christensen, (here is her website) has graciously included me in a Game of Excerpts! (Not unlike A Game of Thrones, I’m sure.) I am chuffed to be tagged in this simple activity called “Lucky 7,” where we authors share seven lines from our current works-in-progress.
The contest rules are:
Click here if you would like to view the trailer for book one, The Year-god’s Daughter, which gives hints of the next two books.
Below, I’m happily tagging seven very special authors who have written books I’ve truly loved reading, and which have left deep impressions upon me.
Ageless, changeless Athene finally deems her child ready to fight for humanity. The year-god’s daughter has lived the lives of women throughout the ages and has reached the seventh labyrinth, the final circle promised by Athene 4000 years ago. All her past incarnations return to her consciousness.
Photo: William-Adolphe Bouguereau [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons