Back in September, I published my short story, Morrighan and yesterday I published the paperback version. For those of you who are interested in purchasing a paperback copy it is available on the Amazon.com website and will be available to non US residents in the next 24 to 48 hours.
Morrighan is my twist on the story of King Arthur and Morgan le faye. A what if… kind of story inspired by Marion Zimmer Bradley’s tale and the Merlin miniseries featuring Sam Neil and Helena Bonham-Carter.
Now, for those of you who might want a sneak peak, here it is:
Camelot was burning.
Avalon was under attack… from dragons.
The very creatures that graced the banners which flew high and proud on the many flag poles that graced the castle’s turrets were going to bring about its end. The symbol of Pendragon no longer stood for power, peace and protection, but death and destruction. Their very existence in the skies above spelled ruin for all of Camelot; not just its King. It was just a matter of time.
Was this what the Morríghan spoke of when she foresaw Arthur’s death? Rather than what Morgan herself feared. That the death of Arthur would be at the hands of the son she carried within her womb? Could this be the downfall of Camelot that was prophesised so long ago when she herself was only a child, trapped in the crystal cave beneath the earth with nobody but her cat Merlin for company?
She laid a hand on her stomach. The child within grew restless, as if it too sensed the calamity surrounding the world outside the womb. She’d tried and failed to stop one travesty from coming to pass. In the end the child would be born, and born healthy, she knew for the herbs she taken early in the pregnancy had not touched her – they hadn’t even made her sick as they often did with other women. And if she couldn’t stop the child from being born, how then was she supposed to stop the Dragons from destroying the entire world? Dragons were much harder to expel than a child. Harder by far than even Uther’s death had been, and back then she’d had the aid and favour of the Morríghan.
She doubted very much that Morríghan would help her twice, and Arthur wouldn’t suffer her insolence for long, not that she cared much what Arthur thought of her. She’d sooner take up residence in a nunnery than carry his favour. She wondered why her mother allowed herself to suffer under his rule; she’d already suffered the rule of one King, why not a second? But Arthur was no greater than Uther, just as she was no greater than Igraine.
Today is the end of the sixth week of the 365 Writing Challenge during which I’ve written 3,199 words. It’s up from last week and actually feels pretty good.
Calling all speculative fiction authors!