Then there were images of Féile arriving in the city, filthy and wild, struggling against her captors, held in the hospital until she responded to Marcus’s kindness and he took her to his home, which was heavily guarded. Marcus had begun to make it right earlier than I knew.
Next was our arrival in the city and our search. My first attempt at Mary le Strand was shown, and then images of me being carried out in Gideon’s arms and the ill in the stews recovering overnight. There was a replay of our arrest – events the mob had seen before but this time with context.
There was no video of the bargain made in the Tower, but enough pieces were there to tell the story of what had happened. Calchas’s plan to keep me weakened, to ensure the ley line remained unhealed, kept leaching off the magic in the blood of latents above. Finally, we saw the axe falling, the cameras capturing what I hadn’t seen, the last moments of Richard Mortimer.
I reached behind me until I found Gideon’s hand. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” the low rumble came as the reel played on. “I don’t blame you.”
“You don’t?” I asked. “I let you die.”
This time I could hear his huffed laughter. “You’ve done worse.”
Worse? What on earth could be worse? I turned to him as Rion glared at me to pay attention. There was Linus and his contingent arresting Calchas in the control room and the armies of the Britons entering the city peaceably.
I was up. I stood forward.
“Citizens of Londinium, you have seen now what the praetor has done. He allowed the ley line to die, to feed off the magic in the blood of those living above. His actions were… No, it is not for me to sway you one way or the other. You have seen what was done – it is for you to judge.”
I looked down at Calchas on the sand below.
“Let the accused speak in his defence if he wishes it,” I said. What Calchas had done was horrific, but the systematic control given to the city in the Mete gave no right of defence to the accused. That changed now.
Calchas’s penitently bowed head snapped up at this. He took a step forward, appearing to gather his thoughts.
“People of Londinium, citizens. I am one of you. What I have done may appear defenceless, but it was done to save so many more.” Calchas raised his hands as if offering his words to the mob who had for so long hung on his every word, but this time his words were met by hisses and shouts of abuse.
“I have wronged you in seeking to protect you from the dangerous magics that flow under our very city, magic that now appears to offer to solve all your wrongs. But it was magic that wrought this misery from the start.” He clasped his hands to his chest. “My own son and daughter were amongst the first to sicken and die. We lived on the Strand, so close to the epicentre of the corruption that sucks life from the city. How could I stand by as other fathers, other mothers, watched their children sicken and die?”
I caught Marcus’s eye. Did this mean that Calchas himself was a latent? Marcus returned my querying glance with a half-shrug. It was possible. All this time, he had been killing people for having the same blood that ran in his own veins.
“This known traitor will have you believe that she has healed the ley line, that she can rule our city and force you to live under the rule of the Wilders who believe in magic and superstition. They would have you live in the dark ages once more.”
The crowd hummed at this, but the mob were his no longer. They had seen the evidence of his actions and the truth of the past. Why would they believe the truth of the future he painted now.
I spoke again.
“Friends, whatever the future holds will be your choice. If you wish to remain in the Empire, you may do so. But our worlds here on this island do not need to be so very different; magic and technology may live side by side. Our belief that they could not is yet another lie.”
I pulled in some power. My control of simple magics was not always perfect and yet the flames from the torches flickered and swirled together until a Griffin appeared in the air above the arena. He dipped around the amphitheatre before soaring high up though the towers.
“Cheap theatrics,” Calchas spat.
I laughed out loud. He was one to say so.
“A Griffin, huh,” came the murmur behind me.
“My new favourite thing,” I whispered and found our hands were still joined as he lifted mine and pressed his lips to it, to the sound of an exasperated sigh from my regal brother.
I raised my hand until the crowd fell silent once more.
“If you choose another path, a new path, to be sovereign to yourselves, to form a new state of your own as part of Britannia, I propose Marina, daughter of Londinium, one of you, who has the power to tend the ley line but who also knows and loves this city to rule until a new system can be found. One of your choosing.” Marina stepped forward, taking her place beside me. Our eyes met and held.
How far we had come from that first day we had met on the threshold of her home in the stews – her flinty gaze assessing me – to the escape through the tunnels under the docks, and now her rise to become one of the finest druids in the land. Her braids were bound in as elaborate a style as I had ever worn, her grey eyes were bright, and the ruby red of her dress flattered the dark tones in her skin. Oban had outdone himself. And I had no doubt Marina would outdo herself in this role, more than my brother would see coming. I grinned as I continued. “Until that time, my brother, Rion Deverell, will act as steward; this and more will be decided upon in a future vote. But now we must turn to the matter at hand.”
I looked down on the sands, my smile dimming as I contemplated the arrogant man who stood looking for all the world as if he were still up here, pulling the strings. “This is the final Mete. After this we will find a new way. But to close this chapter we must judge the citizen before you.”
I raised my hand, thumb pointing to the side as the minute ticked by. We had discussed Marina calling the count but she had not wanted her first act to be what was effectively the closing act of the past.
At the final bell, Linus rushed to my side and whispered the result. I wasn’t sure if I felt relief or regret at the result.
“Citizens, you have chosen mercy,” I said into the hush. Change comes slowly. I had not believed the truth. How could I have expected the people of the city to believe the evidence placed before them? We told them that what had gone before was untrue and yet expected them to accept our truth. People needed time, time to adjust, time to sift through the evidence themselves. Time they would be given.
“The results are: 68% guilty.”
Calchas’s grin was one of triumph. We could do nothing; most of the people believed him guilty, but given the low rate of conviction the punishment would not fit the crime. We had discussed the potential outcomes and had agreed upon scenarios based on the vote. I looked to Marina and Rion now, stepping back to allow the soon-to-be new ruler to pronounce the verdict.
“The sentence is not death, despite the countless innocents that you have sent to theirs, nor is it imprisonment, as we would not have you here acting as a taint on the land.” Marina’s voice was steady, her accent revealing her local, if less than elite, origins. “Former Praetor Calchas, you are stripped of all titles and property and banished from this land. If you ever return it will be to face your death.”
I met Calchas’s eyes, which already gleamed with fresh plots, and then his eyes suddenly widened. His body fell forward, crumbling onto the sand, blood spilling from the knife wound in his upper back. Kasen was standing over him, his fellow praetorian rushing to tackle him to the ground as Gideon pulled me behind him protectively.
“What?”
Calchas wasn’t moving. His blood would be the last to seep into the sands of the arena.
“Kasen’s family… that’s why he helped us,” Marcus explained.
A light materialised out of the ground beside Calchas’s fallen body, then another and another. Now there were hundreds of dancing lights lifting int
o the night. The souls. They hadn’t escaped when I had healed the ley line, but they were free now, released by the death of their murderer. The darkness of the blacked-out buildings was illuminated by golden lights as hundreds – no, thousands – of bright spots swirled upwards.
Free. They were free.
“This is how it ends,” Gideon said from beside me.
“No,” I said, facing out over the arena as the souls lit up the sky. I turned, seeing them reflected in his eyes.
“This is.” I stretched up and pulled his mouth down to mine, pressing my lips to his in a promise – a kiss he had given me a hundred times. If I had been paying closer attention I would have seen it, felt it, known what it meant. He pulled away to look down at me, his amber eyes glowing.
My choice. My future. My match.
“Marry me,” I commanded.
His lips tugged up at the corner.
“I live to serve.”
* * *
THE END
Acknowledgments
I never set out to write a book, many of the early scenes in the book began life as no more than daydreams scribbled down, then something more than doodles. As time passed more was teased out, first as a challenge until I eventually became invested in discovering what happened to these characters.
I had no idea what I was doing, and somewhere around 80,000 words in realised I had to learn more of the craft to fashion these pages into a tale worth reading. The author community is amazingly generous, there are books and podcasts and articles and sage words all around, many of which I seemed to find at just the right time. I’d like to particularly thank Writing Excuses whose fifteen(ish) minute nuggets were so helpful.
They say you should write what you wish to read, like many fantasy readers I grew up on Tolkien, Lewis, Eddings, Jordan, Martin, et al and longed to read these type of stories with different types of central protagonists and for me, more romance. In the years since I started doodling there has been an explosion of books in this genre that go well beyond what I could ever have imagined when I was a teen – Cole, Collins, Harkness, Maas, Bardugo, Pasat, Lu, Deonn, Kuang and so many more - it’s been a golden era, or the beginning of a new one. Had these already existed I’m not sure I would have had a go. But I would like to thank these authors and all the rest for the wonderful worlds they’ve created. And add that there are so many more stories to be told so if you have one… give it wings!
But this journey was not taken alone, special thanks always to Kim, for encouraging me to keep taking another step. To the wonderful team at One More Chapter, Bethan, Charlotte, Melanie, Claire, Lydia, Tony, Laura and Andrew. Thank You.
Author Q & A
What were the most difficult world-building challenges when it came to creating Legend of the Lakes?
Creating an Alternate History
Merging and mixing the real, the mythical and the alternate has been both a challenge and great fun. Growing two parallel cultures with two different starting points that diverge even further at the start of the industrial revolution was at times befuddling and at others wonderfully organic. And in other plot points I seem to have been overtaken by real life which hopefully hasn’t detracted from your enjoyment of the books.
What ifs give a delicious viewpoint onto the world we live in today as we get to examine what might have been, or what we wish could be.
In a world where the discipline and resources of the Roman Empire continued uninterrupted by the dark ages, technology and science have advanced further. On top of which the physical constraints caused them to use their resources to create what seems a futuristic city but is merely our own amped up a little. Much of the technology described here exists today, we are already much more observed by the state and large companies than we like to acknowledge.
The Celtic kingdoms meanwhile are the legacy of Arthurian legend and Celtic myth and magic, and the avoidance of technology. More complex on this side of the wall was including the touchpoints in history that took known ruling families and gave them a role in this parallel timeline. It was fun for me and enriched the depth of the world, but if the tangle of Plantagenet, Tudor and Glyndwr is too much, don’t worry. These are easter eggs there for the enjoyment of those so inclined, if not, drive on, they are only background rather than material to the story.
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What were some of your foremost sources of inspiration?
Calendar and Festivals
The year in the Briton world is a blend of traditions and eras, as is our own today. Roman gods still star in January (Janus) and June (Juno), Latin numbers name November and December, while in Irish some months are still named for the pagan festivals celebrated here May (Bealtaine), August (Lúnasa), October (Samhain).
The calendar used is the eight point wheel, which incorporates the Celtic fire festivals of Imbolc, Beltaine, Lammas and Samhain. The second four points are the cross quarter days, made up of the solar events of solstice and equinox especially given the importance of stone circles, which the ancients built in alignment with these points in the year.
Light and dark was how the Celts measured time. The dark half of the year began at Samhain and summer was greeted at Beltaine. Entry into the Celtic world of book II took in the first of these festivals while many more featured in book III.
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Samhain, 1 November: The beginning of the new year for the Celts. The most celebrated today is the evening before, but for the Celts and Christians it was three days. All Hallow’s eve, All Souls and All Saints.
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Winter Solstice/Midwinter, 20-23 December: The shortest day of the year, to which Newgrange and Stonehenge are aligned, speaks to its importance in ancient times.
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Imbolc, 1 February: Halfway between winter Solstice and spring equinox, the first of February in Ireland is the feast of St Brigid (or Brigid the daughter of the Celtic god Dagda) and is the traditional beginning of Spring.
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Spring/Vernal Equinox,19-22 March Ostara: This day marks the crossing of the sun’s path over the equator. For the ancient Greeks and Persians it marked the beginning of the new year.
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Beltaine, 1 May: Traditionally the beginning of summer and is still celebrated in some places with Maypole dancing and the cutting of green boughs. Like its counterpoint in the year Samhain, Beltaine sees a weakening of the veil, rather than the dead the other world can cross over. My grandmother used to leave a bowl of milk for the fairies on May eve to keep them happy.
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Summer solstice/Midsummer, 19-23 June: The longest day of the year in the northern hemisphere, when the north pole is on its maximum tilt to the sun, is still marked with bonfires and floral wreaths in many countries of the world.
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Lammas/Lughnasadh,1 August: The first of the harvest festivals, Lugh was the Irish god of the sun, while Lammas is Old English for mass of loaves, and is still marked by a fair in many parts of Britain and Ireland. In many parts of Europe this was the grain festival heralding the beginning of the grain harvest, with fairs featuring circle dancing, corn dollys and loaves.
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Autumn Equinox/Mabon, 21-24 September: The second of the harvest festivals is a time of plenty, named in recent paganism for the Welsh god of light, Mabon. The last of the cross quarters when day and night are roughly equal as the sun is over the equator.
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Ley Lines
Leys are paths of energy that are conjectured to run beneath the earth’s surface connecting prehistoric and Christian sacred sites and monuments. Many areas of the world have similar beliefs – the songlines of the Australian aboriginal Dreamtime, the fairy paths of the Irish, the dragon currents or feng shui of the Chinese, the energy lines of the Aztecs of Peru and many more. The lines explored here are in England and Scotland and abound with churches, barrows, stone circles, and other significant sites, they are generally regarded to have a straight masculine line, which is interwo
ven by a meandering feminine line.
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The May Line: Or Michael and Mary line for the number of monuments built in their honour along it, is aligned with the path of the sun on the 8th of May, cutting from Great Yarmouth through Abbey Bury St Edmunds, taking in Glastonbury and Avebury, to St Michael’s Mount in Cornwall.
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The Belinus Line: Or Elen and Belinus line, is named for a British road-building Iron age king. This line runs from the Isle of Wight, taking in both ancient capitals of Winchester and Dunfermline, multiple prehistoric monuments including the Penrith stone circle, on through Inverness, and aligns with the Dark Rift of the Milky Way, which the ancients believed was a gateway to the next world.
Exploring the World of The Once and Future Queen
Monuments and Capitals
The Monuments of the Ancients
Keswick Stone Circle
Castlerigg stone circle or Keswick Carles is a 5000 BC circle in the Lake District near the town of Keswick, known for being visited by Keats, Wordsworth and Coleridge, who wrote of it as “a Druidical circle [where] the mountains stand one behind the other, in orderly array as if evoked by and attentive to the assembly of white-vested wizards”. It has alignments with the autumn equinox and winter solstice, as well as various lunar positions.
Legend of the Lakes Page 42
