by Rex Sumner
Table of Contents
DedicationIII
AcknowledgementsV
ClarificationVII
HarrheinVIII
Dramatis PersonaeXI
The Black Dragon1
The Marshal23
Freedom38
Lancers57
Recovery70
Battle84
Dancing99
Fleeing Foe119
Dancing with Gods124
Pursuit132
Healing145
Knives154
The Tuatha da Danann166
Stuarts179
The Black Dragon192
The Power of a Promise205
Overlooking215
Welcome Home234
Fiotr251
Revolt265
Aether283
Rebuilding293
Trapped304
Mistress of the Kingdom314
Historical Notes324
About the Author328
MISTRESS
OF THE
GODS
THE MAKING OF SUZANNE II
REX SUMNER
Published in March 2018 by
MyVoice Publishing
www.myvoicepublishing.com
Copyright © Rex Sumner 2018
The right of Rex Sumner to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
Cover artwork by Rafael Andres.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in a retrieval system, in any form or by any means,
without permission in writing from the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
ISBN 978-1-909359-55-0
Note: this is a work of fiction. No characters are based on actual people, alive or dead; policies and actions of countries and governments depicted bear no relation to actual historical fact. Customs of various people are from the authors imagination and have no bearing on actual customs of any people.
Contents
DedicationIII
AcknowledgementsV
ClarificationVII
HarrheinVIII
Dramatis PersonaeXI
The Black Dragon1
The Marshal23
Freedom38
Lancers57
Recovery70
Battle84
Dancing99
Fleeing Foe119
Dancing with Gods124
Pursuit132
Healing145
Knives154
The Tuatha da Danann166
Stuarts179
The Black Dragon192
The Power of a Promise205
Overlooking215
Welcome Home234
Fiotr251
Revolt265
Aether283
Rebuilding293
Trapped304
Mistress of the Kingdom314
Historical Notes324
About the Author328
Dedication
Once beside a sun-drenched sea,
A Demon gave me a Fractal Key.
“Look not through the darkened crack,
Lest you see the dark side, looking back.”
Acknowledgements
This book could have been finished six months ago, but I asked myself a different question back in 2016.
Where do the stories about Elves come from?
I discovered they are based on the Tuatha da Danaan, the third wave to inhabit Ireland in pre-history/myth/legend. They threw out the Fir Bolg and were themselves supplanted by the Milesians, cousins from Brittany.
So where did they come from?
The answer to that took me on a winding path through legend and supposition, reading about early religions and comparing that to established history and anthropological discoveries. Modern gene sequencing mixed with ancient legend. I came to certain conclusions and discovered the religion here in Bali is not so very different to that in pre-history, and I looked further, and found, correlations and similarities between beliefs the world over.
I tore up 60,000 words and started again.
Many people have assisted me in their discussions, in particular Melvin Hart, while I am indebted to the many beta readers who give me feedback. Mark Baker and my sons in particular, while Brittany Rich is responsible for the delay in publishing by highlighting a character flaw!
Special thanks to my readers whose pleasure in my simple words gives me encouragement to continue
Rex Sumner
Ubud, Bali 2018
Clarification
This book contains Shamanic scenes. To enable my writing to be accurate, I did extensive research. Not just interviewing shamans, priests, Balians, drug enthusiasts and people who astral travel, but also writings on Tibetan Buddhism, the Ancient Greek Mysteries, early religions and the papers of various scientists who have studied the subject.
One thing is eminently clear. These are dangerous practises, not to be conducted without expert guidance. And identifying an expert is fraught with difficulty. Whether the danger is from other entities or the practise warping the minds of the participants is irrelevant. There are too many instances of practitioners going insane.
One American research paper details over 400 people taking part in an experiment. While most had similar experiences, one of the men spent eight hours being anally raped by a crocodile during his mind journey. He did not enjoy the experience.
Nor would you.
This book does not contain any descriptions which would enable you to duplicate any of the experiences. Should you try to do so, I have a message for you.
The crocodile says he thinks you are cute.
Harrhein
Over the past five hundred years, the kings of Harrhein consolidated the kingdom by conquest, bringing Fearaigh and Galicia into the country, while waging a ceaseless war with the northern tribes.
Coillearnacha stayed separate, with another race, Elves, occupying the western shores. An uneasy truce prevails, with frequent raids from both sides of the border.
No one knows what happens in the far north. Expeditions founder on the enmity of native peoples, but Hardenwall stands as a bulwark against the Uightlanders with an insatiable taste for the fat cattle of the Hallowed Fields.
To the east lie the islands and peninsulas of the warlike Spakka, who delight in raiding Harrhein and capture every ship they can, while in every other direction lies limitless ocean.
To break free, the people of Harrhein need to make a deep sea vessel and sail over the edge of the world. First they must ensure the safety of the Kingdom.
This volume recounts setbacks...
Dramatis Personae
The Army
King Richard
Princess Asmara
General Roberts
Colonel Donnell
Lord Sol, Duke of Galicia
Count Rotherstone
Major Young
Lord Sarl
Lord Martin Anders, Duke of Fearaigh
The Bear and the Trotter Twins
Elves
Susan Taylor, errant Mistress of the King
the Elder Maelbelenus, teacher
Caomh, Beorsach, Oengus, renegades
Cadeyrn, Border Patrol
Laoire, student
Fainche, Riofach, Orlaith and Fionuir. Female students.
Tuatha da Danaan
Danu, Diana, Diane, Goddess Triumvirate
Lugh, Crom
Naimh, Cara, Shelagh na Gig
Midir, wanderer
Royal Lancers of Fearaigh
Lionel Summoner, Colonel
Jeremy Summoner, Jez, second in command
Hugo, Matt, Andy, Tony, Robbie
Gordie, Uightlander recruit
Hardenwall
The Duke of Hardenwall
Dominic, his son
Baron Algernon Sunder
Luce, maid
Bill, foot soldier in the Guard
The Black Dragon
A sequel to Feeding the Dragon
In the Ancient Kingdom of Sung, a little girl was selected to Feed the Dragon. Convinced this was but a story, she went willingly, persuading others to come with her. On arrival, she discovered there really was a Dragon. His name is Sung, he is telepathic and the Abbott of Sindalar Monastery. The little girl, Wu Nu, is able to communicate with him, unlike all the Monks and Bikkhuni (female monk), and voices her intention to become Sung Bai Ju, the supreme Bikkhuni and human leader of the Monastery.
The camp fire sputtered, sending up sparks as the flames reached a resinous knot of pine. One of the dark figures around the fire leaned forward and prodded it with a stick, sending up more sparks.
“I’m hungry,” he said, in complaining tones.
“You’re always bloody hungry,” said another, standing up and stretching, before spitting into the fire and sitting back down, the flames revealing a smooth, dirty face with eyebrows meeting in the middle.
“I liked that pig we had last week,” said a third, in the high voice of somebody who is always happy. The others groaned.
“Will you shut up about that bloody pig,” said the second. “You are always on about it and it is long gone. Just rice and roots for supper again, and memories don’t fill my stomach.”
“I want a woman too,” said the first speaker scratching at the lice in his groin.
The second started to respond when the happy voice cut across in glee.
“I had a woman once,” he said.
“Yeah, right.”
“More likely that pig.”
“You wouldn’t know what to do with a woman.”
As the barracking continued, a high voice cut across the banter, freezing the men into stillness.
“If you were still farmers, instead of bandits, you would be well fed every night. And probably with a nice fat wife to keep you warm instead of this silly fire.”
The words created a deep well of silence, while the bandits sneaked looks into the darkness, unable to see anything with their eyes blinded by the fire light. The second speaker threw a branch, covered in dried pine needles, onto the fire, which flared up, causing them to blink in the brightness and revealing them as dirty and scruffy, with ill-fitting clothes and a variety of bared and mostly rusty weapons. One of them rolled back into the darkness as the fire flared, while the others peered into the gloom.
Squatting on a large rock, a few feet back from the fire, was a girl. A young girl wearing a jacket with long sleeves, and her arms crossed and the hands disappearing into the opposite sleeves.
“You are not very good bandits, are you?” She spoke with confidence, her face turned to one side so as not to look into the fire. “If you were, you would live in a nice home. So why do you want to be bandits when you could go back to your farms?”
“We follow Xiong, he’s our leader,” said the happy one, oblivious to the tension and happy to talk to somebody. “He trained us, he did. Anyways, we can’t go back. They would kill us, they would.”
“Not very good training.” She gave an audible sniff, which echoed over the low crackling of the fire. “I have spoken to the leader of your village, Ma Shi, and he will welcome you back to till the fields again.”
The one who rolled into the darkness reappeared, on the opposite side of the fire, his hand holding a naked, rusty blade winking in the firelight.
“All alone, little one. So foolish.” He smiled as he stalked towards her. “But welcome. Did you not hear Bao saying he wanted a woman? You may be a girl, but you’ll do, oh yes, we will have fun with you.”
The girl changed her focus from the dark to his face. Even in the firelight, they could make out her squinting a little as she studied him. This must be Xiong, the Bear.
“Not you, I think,” she said, in a meditative tone. “Your aura has too much black, and it is too… deep. No, you cannot return.”
As she finished, her hand came out of her sleeve and flicked, before returning to its place. Xiong dropped his sword, his hands going to his throat as he made a choked, liquid sound before falling on his back.
Nobody moved.
After an eternity, the first speaker croaked out a few words. “Who are you?”
“I am Sung Qingting, from Sindalar. Take his head, show it to Ma Shi and return to your fields, farmers. Leave your farms again, and I will take your heads to Ma Shi, yes, and his into the bargain.”
The fire died down, and when another branch flared up, Sung Qingting was gone, leaving an empty rock and a dead leader.
*
Ma Shi woke to a thunderous knocking on his door, pulling on his robe while he pushed it open with an aching head and a venomous temper. He snarled at the grinning old woman outside.
“Come along, Shi, you will want to see this,” she said in her cackling laugh, before turning and running down to the village square.
Grumbling, Ma Shi followed her, stopping in mid-stride at the sight of the four men sitting cross-legged in front of his chair. They leant forward and knocked their foreheads to the ground at his approach. Ma Shi sat in his chair and inspected the head placed in front of them. A bit of metal still gleamed in the throat and for a moment his eyebrows raised in a question before a dim memory surfaced.
“A star,” he said in wonder. “A flying star, the weapon of the Dragonflies. I have never seen one used before. So, the Sung Qingting found you.” He nodded as the men remained with the heads in the dirt. He turned towards the crowd of villagers assembling behind the men, some smiling, others grinning, some angry but most confused.
“People,” said Ma Shi in his loudest, most ringing voice. “Sindalar has the Dragon back and the Dragonflies are out and about. Peace and order is back in the countryside and we can prosper. No more will we suffer bandits, and no more shall we pay taxes to the Emperor who ignores us. No more children will go to his armies. Instead we feed the Dragon once more.”
A murmur rippled through the crowd, not one of agreement but more of confusion and, in some cases, fear. A young man stepped forward.
“Sindalar? What has the old monastery to do with us and what is this Dragon? The Emperor has many soldiers and they will kill us if we do not pay taxes.” The hum of agreement outshone the earlier confusion.
“Ask the old ones,” said Ma Shi, his face wreathed in a smile of contentment. “In the old days, before the invasion of the Mongols, Sindalar was our protector. The Dragonflies, the Qingting, flew round the countryside and we had no bandits. The Emperor kowtowed to the Dragon. They were good days, and they are upon us once more.
*
The little girl once called Wu Nu and now being addressed as Sung Qingting, the Dragonfly of Sung, strode with purpose across the meadow, plucking the occasional wild flower as she went. Sprawled across a large, flat rock beside the brook, an enormous lizard stretched a leg as he basked in the morning sun, one eye fixed on the girl’s approach.
She climbed the rock and knelt by his head, offering the flowers in one hand, a smile flicking across her face as a long tongue came out to circle the flowers and pull them into his mouth. Despite his ferocious appearance, the beautiful sailed liza
rd, over thirty feet long, was a vegetarian.
“Sensei,” said Qingting. “How are you today, my master?” She leaned forward and scratched the tender skin under his ear drum. The dragon blinked and gave a mental purr as he chewed the flowers with pleasure.
“You are sad, little one,” came his thoughts, arriving in her mind as if he were speaking. “But do you not come back with great success?”
“I do, master,” she said. “I cleansed the bandits from Lao valley. There were only five.”
“So, what ails you, my child?”
“I killed one, master.”
“Ah,” the dragon thought, able to insert meaning into his words as if he were speaking. “Your first. It is usual to feel strange, bad, after such an event.”
“I did not feel sick, as Ju Qua said I would. The pleasure of a perfect throw is muted, though, for it caused the death of a person.”
“This is not what ails you, child.”
“No, master, it is not,” said Qingting with a deep sigh, her eyes lost on the rim of the high mountain vale in which they sat. She paused a moment as the dragon waited, his patience infinite as she well knew. “I wonder if my actions were correct. Could I perhaps have saved him?”
“Tell me how you decided.”
“He walked towards me, his words hateful. I looked at his aura and there was black in it.”
“There is black in yours,” thought the dragon.
“Yes, but mine flickers, comes and goes, there when I need it. In this man, it was like a hard road, a rut. Oh, I am not explaining very well.”
“I understand, child. What you saw was when a person is so often in the black it becomes ingrained, a fixed way of thinking that shows your decision was correct. You have good instincts, child.”
There was silence for a long while as the girl relaxed, her bright features flowing down as the tension dissolved and her natural beauty begin to flower. Her eyes were like a cat, slanted almonds under her bowl of bright black hair, while her body betrayed her youth, thin and wiry. Her natural devilment surfaced, her smile returning with a quirk at the corners of her lips and the light of battle in her eyes.
“So, Lord Sung, now I have proved my mettle in battle and diplomacy, is it now time for me to receive the title of Sung Bai Ju?”
