https://www.facebook.com/275172359012833/

The Merlin's Gambit Trilogy, 49 Pembroke Close, Bury St. Edmunds (2024)

09/11/2024

Another Merlin Bit From Book Two: Fire Magic

Same protocols for the no-italics-for-telepathy problem, I'm afraid: single quotes every time.

This excerpt is from Chapter Two: Who's the REAL King of Santorini? Subhead: Awareness is Everything, Right?

“What the––” Thankfully, I don’t get a chance to finish that sentence. If, against all odds, you’ve actually managed to read this far, you’ll perhaps remember the warrior raven, Fizzy Meadows, who marched, or was it flew me into the thick of the impending battle in the Glastonbury Below? I’m astounded to say that she’s just flown in through my open window and sat herself down on the edge of the desk upon which I now write.
'Don’t knock it, wizard! I’ve flown through a lot of time and distance in space to be here,' she says telepathically right into my now unsurprisingly empty head.
“But… what are you doing here?” I ask.
'This Thothy-Hermes character… he’s carving out a lot of funny-shaped rocks, shall we say, and the Higher-Ups you already know of, who think you’re working for them, don’t really appreciate his even-Higher-Uppityness interfering in their plans.'
'So what are you, or I for that matter, meant to do about it?' I answer her telepathically, as I had the subject of whom she speaks, not just because I can but also because it would seem rude not to use the skill she herself taught me only the previous day. In answer to my own question, I have a picture already developing in my mind of possible consequences: interdimensional Higher-Up factions with differing ideas of how whatever this Earthly, or even Terran, situation might turn out to be, all operating against each other, perhaps with the best of intentions in mind, yet muddying the outcome for lack of cohesion one to the other of their individual outlooks on the matter. Now, I’m no diplomat, but it looks like I’m going to have my work cut out for me if I don’t start figuring out how to keep them all happy.
'Watch you watching him… that’s what!' she continues, a little angrily; it has to be said. 'Well, something like that… I think.'
At last, a c***k of uncertainty in the sassy raven’s armour. But I notice a shift in the energy of the room. It’s easy to detect the cause; I’ve felt it before and look at the double-headed dragon staff given me by Franciscus shortly before he was so senselessly murdered by a dastardly representative of The Order as another of these soulless entities attempted likewise to sink an arrow in me. The eyes of both dragons are glowing, sapphire in one, ruby in the other, as they hiss at me in remembrance. This end-of-the-world-as-we-know-it Þing seems to be getting a little bit too real for my liking. “Oh, don’t tell me! I’ve got two lots of Higher-Ups on my back now, both harbouring different agendas and neither capable of existing in the same dimension simultaneously?” telepathy replaced by irritation, apparently.
'Well, aren’t you a clever one, then!' She squawks, and it sounds a bit like sardonic laughter raven-style. Then, quite suddenly, she shapeshifts.

Much Love, Light and Freedom, as always,
from the Sovereignty Gang 💥🧙‍♂️🧝‍♀️🧚‍♀️🐉🦁🦄👑🌹,
and me, Tally 😎😇🐝💚💜
🐐

Pics: where d'you find a shapeshifting raven-girl? Hmmm... this one's absolutely gorgeous, but not Fizzy Meadows 🤷‍♀️🙄🦹‍♀️.

02/11/2024

An excerpt from Fire Magic: Chapter 2, "Who's the REAL King of Santorini?", Scene 1: "These Days, You Never Know WHAT to Expect"

Following on from the first of the Merlin bits I promised you all, here's the second excerpt. Personally, I have to say, even I hadn't expected ever to have to put the word "sorry" into Merlin's mouth once, let alone thrice; I think he's just a bit nonplussed by the strangeness of this encounter... I'm sure he'll get over it 🤷‍♀️🤗🦸‍♀️.

Some editorial considerations again due to FB Pages' restricted editor: there's a lot of telepathy right from the get-go in this second book in the Merlin's Gambit series, so, again, I'm afraid there's no facility for italics, which is how I differentiate telepathic conversations from the normal talking form of communication; this means it's single quotes for telepathy.

These Days, You Never Know WHAT to Expect:
'Well, that was extraordinary, wasn’t it? Did you expect that? I certainly didn’t! Mind you, I didn’t really expect any of it. Ever since I set foot upon the Appian Way and jumped forward fifty years out of my own time zone into what for me was the future, it’s been just one thing after another, hasn’t it? I’d forgive you for feeling ever so slightly dizzy by now just reading this… if you ever get to read it at all, that is…
… ‘All that exists is One.’
Yes, that’s what I’m hearing… in my head… telepathically!
And, no, I’m not overwrought and imagining it; it’s not one of those four-letter-abbreviated post-traumatic-whatnot-Þingies with which you twenty-first-centuryites seem so quick to label all your unexplainable experiences. It’s a real voice… just not sure why it seems to want to invade my head with unintelligible one-liners; never happened before… perhaps if I ignore it, it’ll go away?
‘As above, so below?’
Obviously not! Well, at least I recognise this one. All right, I’ll play… ‘As within, so without: what next?’
‘As with the universe, so with the soul, wouldn’t you think?’
And there was I, sitting here thinking that I could write you, strange and beautiful Eagle Woman they call Silver, a nice little conversation telling you all about my instant journey through The Shimmering from the top of sixth-century fifth-dimensional Glastonbury Tor to this rather beautiful, exceedingly well-lit three-dimensional twenty-first-century clifftop on an island now called Santorini – you may or may not be aware that it used to be called Thera; if not, I should hang on to that ancient name, I think it’s going to be useful to know. Well, best-laid plans an’––
‘All that exists is One…. I haven’t got all day, you know.’
‘What?’
‘That’s what’s next! There’s more… quite a lot more actually. But for today, I’ll give you no more than you need. I’ll also let you ask me one question; make it one that counts!’
At this stage, you may well ask why I don’t just tell The Voice to go forth and be sure NOT to multiply in no uncertain terms, but I have to admit to being not only a little intrigued but also fairly sure that it belongs to one to whom I ought to be showing a fair degree of respect. All right, I’ll also admit to using Þingness on it; it’s not giving me a positive identity yet, but I can See ancient Higher-Upness in spades and Feel the most awesome waves of Goodness emanating thereon… so, of course, I want to Know more.
‘You should be most thankful that you didn’t do that, even more so that you also didn’t ask me to multiply… I didn’t say that I wouldn’t give you my name, and I’m most thankful that your wizardly faculties are capable of deducing my, shall we say, spiritual orientation. I am Thoth the Atlantean; my thrice-born self, Hermes, is eager yet unable to deliver to you possibly the most vital message you will ever have received, yet much must be accomplished before full understanding of it can be achieved by all; thus, for this moment, it is only in part. Is your quill yet inked and ready to transcribe?’
‘Umm… yes, it is. Pleased indeed to meet you, Thoth the Atlantean. I am Merlin––’
‘And you will change the world… yes, I know! But you are NOT the greatest wizard there ever was, just the greatest there will ever HENCE be… you will INDEED change the world… I am the greatest wizard there ever WAS, and I have ALREADY changed the world. But the world is more greatly in need of yet MORE change than ever it has been before, and you are the wizard that task now falls to. There is one more who may yet be of help; his name is––’
‘John Dee… sorry, DR John Dee. Yes, he’s been brought to my attention by––’
‘Ah, yes… Magda told you, did she not? And she also told you of the, shall we say, spiritual DISorientation of the OTHER.’
‘Umm… well… yes, she did. Sorry, I’m a bit surprised.’
‘Mmm, you certainly sound so. What is it in particular that surprises you?’
‘That you have contact with Magda and yet––’
‘Cannot manifest to you?’
‘Well, yes!’
‘I am now a being of a vibration so high that I no longer have the need to physically manifest; telepathy is sufficient for all necessary communications. There are many of us who hold the needs of ALL the worlds in our hands, working on their behalves in the secret filaments of the aethers; some – Magda and Yeshua, for instance – still choose to manifest on occasions; I am not one of them. Your quill, Merlin: is it ready?’
‘Oh… sorry… yes, indeed it is.’'

Much Love, Light and Freedom, as always,
from the Sovereignty Gang 💥🧙‍♂️🧝‍♀️🧚‍♀️🐉🦁🦄👑🌹,
and me, Tally 😎😇🐝💚💜
🐐

Pics this week: Well, it wasn't going to be easy, was it 🤔 ... you decide who's who... and where from 🤷‍♀️😁🦸‍♀️.

26/10/2024

Who Wants to Read Bits of Book Two: Fire Magic?

By popular request, we'll start with some Merlin bits, at least for a few weeks or so. I'd tell you what it's about, but I haven't written the back blurb yet, so you'll just have to guess for a while and try to piece it all together when you buy the book 🤣😍.

This is the first few paragraphs of The Prologue:

’A twenty-five-year-old man, called Myrddin Emrys by those who know him well enough to refer to him by his Welsh appellation, or Merlin Ambrosius by those who don’t, sits on the flat roof of a villa on the island of Santorini somewhere in the southern Aegean Sea in front of his new home. It’s the hideout he’s chosen for himself for this next phase of his existence: a blue-domed, eight-sided, whitewashed anomaly that would as soon be taken for a little observatory by anyone capable of seeing it for themselves; a magic hideout for a wizard wishing to remain hidden, whether by his own choice or that of others Higher-Up in the chain of Terran command than he. He walks a precarious path, neither willingly taking orders from others nor giving them likewise… for he does not like being told what to do. His new home is, accordingly, a product of magic and one of entirely his own choice.
He smiles the smile of the satisfied as he regards what looks like one of any number of small blue domes topping the little churches that seem to climb the mountainside as if they are reaching out for the precedence of the summit achieved by his own. The rest of the villa beneath the roof, and nestling companionably into its own little olive grove, is of the old country style, three prettily sprawling single-storey wings of whitewash and local stone surrounding a garden bordered by bougainvillaea, olive trees intermittently shading its centre, and all the accoutrements for outdoor living with not a full-size swimming pool in sight; much nicer than the flashy lumps of concrete facilitating every type of watery recreation from hot to cold that elsewhere on the island seem now to have superseded both sea and sense. Of course, there is a fountain… each of the bedrooms has an en suite bathroom… and there’s an almost Roman-style plunge pool within the shaded colonnade of the furthest wing’s outer wall, should any of this villa’s guests require to cool off without a short trip down the mountainside to the sea.
But Merlin Ambrosius’ rooftop hideout is the cherry on the icing of this particular cake, even if he does think so himself; a triumph of twenty-first-century living owing not a little of its existence to its magically gifted architect’s time spent in making the acquaintance of a well known fictional doctor while Watching YouTube videos at extremely high speeds. On the outside, its hexagonal walls with their little arched windows and its dome on top hardly take up any more space than would a modern garden shed, while on the inside, it’s a veritable palace of light-green limewashed arches with lilac walls and a sparkly silver and gold dome, all at least the size of that little round church built by Bernard and Charlie’s Templars all those years ago in Glastonbury that his new friends call The Brothers’ Library Café and which finds its mirror image in Cambridge’s Church of the Holy Sepulchre. He likes the idea of drinking coffee and this wine called Assyrtiko – which he can See the real islanders enjoying so much – while relaxing in his easy chair at his lovely old desk in his very own version of a Templar church on top of a Mediterranean mountainside. He marvels at all the things he’s learned within the past few days… or is it the last sixteen centuries… hmm, perhaps it’s both… that have given him such an eclectic taste in the interior design from several of those traversed timeframes as well as so varied a spectrum of knowledge of popular cultures thereon.
Beginning to walk around his strangely magical new dwelling, he looks about him, noticing the barrel-arched roof of the main living quarters inside the villa, the rounded and recessed windows that seem to rise out of the flat roof covering the other rooms beneath it, little bearers of light bringing sun and cool air into spaces that could otherwise be quite oppressively stuffy without their knobbly presence. They look to him like watchdogs, all facing out from the roof and guarding against incoming dangers, but perhaps his imagination is running away with him now that his task of creating a safe and magically secure home for those whose imminent arrival he is awaiting is complete. He laughs softly to himself, considering how his friends, the Little People, would enjoy the wiles and artfulness in his use of the magic mostly taught him by them when he was but a small boy on a Tor. He fancies he can still hear them laughing, too.’

Much Love, Light and Freedom, as always,
from the Sovereignty Gang 💥🧙‍♂️🧝‍♀️🧚‍♀️🐉🦁🦄👑🌹,
and me, Tally 😎😇🐝💚💜
🐐

Pics: Villa's on Santorini that look nothing like Merlin's 🤣🧛‍♀️🧙‍♂️

19/10/2024

In the Time of Greatest Need

I thought it was time you had a little bit more Merlin. So, here's a tiny snippet of Merlin... well, losing it. It's right at the end of Book One; at least, it's at the beginning of the last chapter, which turned out to be quite long.

Now that Book Two: Fire Magic (new working title 🤓) is quite considerably underway, I'm toying with the idea of switching to snippets of the unpublished work rather than rehashing even more from a published book that no one will need to buy if I continue to post it on here – I've already found myself posting duplicate content without realising until the deed's done 🤣. So, this Merlin snippet seems like a nice way to say goodbye to Earth Magic posts and welcome in the Fire Magic posts – they may be less frequent, too. Hope you're in agreement. Here's Merlin:

'I’m not sure what happened there! I’m not even sure where there is any more!
That’s the trouble with time-slipping; when you do too much of it all in one go, you can get very disorientated… apparently. I say apparently because until roughly two days ago – when Ambrosius so sweetly coerced Mother to agree to let me travel to Rome for the purpose of augmenting my spiritual duties in the modern Roman way by taking their priestly orders, that is, thus tying up my wizardly obligations to him in what he presumably thought to be a neat and tidy little package, topped with a bow – I’d never been further than a few hours in any particular direction on the Wheel of Time, or Less Britannia on the world’s surface, and then only on Mother Moon’s fullest day, so as not to mess up my return and render myself highly visible by my absence.
So, all that’s happened, remarkable though it’s all been, has come as something of a shock… and I feel just a little out of sorts to find myself back in Glastonbury. Of course, it’s not the Glastonbury I knew; it’s now the Glastonbury Below, in a different dimension, even if it is close to the same century I left it in, and even if the third-dimensional Glastonbury Above is in the twenty-first century. You can possibly see why I might be a bit disorientated!
I like to be in control… at least of myself. And that I haven’t been since almost the moment I arrived in Italy… I don’t even know if that was fourteen hundred years ago or the day before yesterday. There I was, sitting on the side of the Via Ostia, if not looking forward to, then at least musing upon the imminent prospect of journeying to Rome to indulge the Romans in their idea of priestcraft. And now? I’m not even sure which dimension I inhabit, let alone which year it is. If forced at the tip of a plasma weapon – yes, that’s how strange it’s become; words like that are now on the tip of my tongue – I’d probably be happy to go with the fifth dimension some time in the sixth century… if I didn’t have the impression of the twenty-first century overlaying it somehow as if it’s just above me, that is. But how I got here from sixth-century, third-dimensional Italy, and where I switched dimensions en route, or even how I managed to stop off in a remote corner of Norfolk in 1876 on the way, are all a bit of a blur to me; I remember the events, the people, the Seeings, even travelling through what I used to think of as the shimmerings of the three full moons… but my head’s spinning out of control. And I don’t like it! For the first time in my entire life, I don’t feel secure. Do not misunderstand me and assume I know nothing of inter-dimensional travel; of course I do… I’m a Druid, after all… gifted in the arts of what you third-dimensional twenty-first centuryites seem now to be calling shamanism. I’ve just never combined my shamanic journeying with my time-slipping expeditions, nor have I ever had them combined for me by some other entity external to myself… I just like to know when I’m doing it and be the one in control of doing it.
And then there’s the other thing.
Actually, there’s more than one other thing, but let’s go through them one by one, just for the sake of some modicum of control… see if we can’t bring it all into the focus of some form of comprehension… shall we? You see how bad it’s got? I’m already repeating myself… some modicum of this, some form of that… and in the same sentence, too.
Let’s start with Love: I’ve never really experienced love – at least, I didn’t know I’d experienced it – other than the obsessively proprietorial anxiety which constantly emanated from my mother… and the friendship and teaching of the Little People… and Most Ancient of Ents, of course; there’ll be more about him later. And even these forms I took to be more of a progressive education than a heart-stopping revelation… and then… I saw you.'

Much Love, Light and Freedom, as always,
from the Sovereignty Gang 💥🧙‍♂️🧝‍♀️🧚‍♀️🐉🦁🦄👑🌹,
and me, Tally 😎😇🐝💚💜
🐐

Pics this week: only one, I think, but it's a good one: this is the original book cover design I mocked up about 10 years ago and it really conjures up a picture of Merlin losing it... well, it does to me anyway 🤔🦸‍♀️🥰.

05/10/2024

Silver – Part Four: How is a Girl to Earn Her Stars?

In this final instalment of Penelope Silver's progression from being a rather badly dressed woman through the ignominy of singed tail feathers to the possibility of attaining Super-Hero-or-Heroine status, what do you think could possibly have been her eventual end game? And, what's more, did she manage to achieve it? Read on to find out... and to find out even more, because these snippets are only tantalising glimpses of what's really going on in the Glastonbury Above and Below, you'll have to press the button on the buy-the-book post at the top of the page 😁😁😁.

No single quotes for FB's missing italics this week, although it is very annoying not to be able to use italics for other things, and there are a lot of other things in these excerpts that were italicised... sorry 🤷‍♀️🙄🦹‍♀️.

’Penelope Silver took a chew from the bag Marjorie was holding. “Mmmm, tastes of strawberries and cream. They’re yummy. Can I have another one, please?”
“Ok,” Vanda said. “What is she going to do next?”
“Well,” Penelope Silver said with her mouth still half-full of May-Bell’s chewy confectionery. “Perhaps I actually meant what I think she’s going to do next. Mmmmm. These things are to die for. Can I have another one?”
“When you’ve told me what you think Marketa Salimbeti’s going to do next.” As Vanda held up her hand to stop Marjorie from indulging the girl any further, she was careful to keep the sense of urgency that was upon them all out of her mouth as much as she could, but it still sounded rather more abrupt than she had intended.
“Why are you calling her that?”
“Well, what do you call her?”
“Nothing, if I can help it. Old bag behind her back. But her name’s Mrs M Stealbit. That’s steal as in stolen, not as in stainless. Don’t know what the M’s for, mind you.” She thought for a second, then seemed rather pleased with herself as she realised something. “Oh, look, that’s an anagram of Salimbeti, isn’t it? Well, fancy that. Wonder wh––”
“Because she’s as old as the hills,” Theodora interrupted. “And changes her name to fit the times… probably.”
“The matriarch of a long line of very powerful black witches,” Vanda continued to quote under her breath from the pictures of that file still visible on the screen in her head.
“Slippery, dangerous, and not to be encountered,” Brian added.
“For, like the Hydra, she is a potent and toxic force. Yes, we know.”
“Well, I didn’t know.” Silver sounded a little disgruntled until Marjorie slipped her another Beriġean-and-Ream. “I suppose that would account for what I thought I saw when I followed her through the shimmery light into that underground pool where she blasted the gold, sparkly thing that took off like a spaceship.”
“Why is she being likened to the Hydra, I wonder?” Vanda was really only thinking out loud, so she was surprised to receive a coherent answer.
“Oh, that’s easy! That’s what I thought I saw her turn into as those dragons in the pool tried to stop her from entering the shimmery light thing. It was only for a split second, but it was long enough for her to get off a good shot from one of her heads. Almost as if she’d surprised herself and done it by accident, it was. Not actually sure if she had a plan as such. Not even sure she has now, either.”
…
“She really didn’t like him, did she?” Silver sucked on another chewy thing. “I think she’s looking for something.”
Everyone looked at her as if she had several heads.
“I mean, she got all kind of sharp focused when I told her about the little fella with the parcel and the sparkly net thing; her eyes went all black and evil-looking. And she must’ve somehow dragged me back to the dig site and the foundations again. I’ve no idea how she did it… one minute I was in the Bristol shop with her, and the next, she was demanding to know exactly where he was when I saw that multi-coloured doughnut thing just appear at your waist then turn itself into the net you threw over the man… and there we were, right in front of that funny little bush.”
“Yes,” Vanda stared into space for the moment it took her to See what she had been missing. “That funny little Juniper bush. All peppery-piney and turpentiney.” She laughed as she hugged Marjorie. “The Mystery of the Savin Plant, indeed.”
“Well,” Marjorie began, looking rather chuffed. “I’m so glad someone has finally noticed. There has to be a connection, you see; the above has to be connected to the below by something, otherwise, the telluric currents below can’t be activated to work above at their full potential… can’t provide the connections between the currents and the water below that creates the spirit magic above. The thing with Juniper is that it does rather tend to magnify what’s below somewhat exponentially, as if the telluric currents were on veritable steroids. It’s my own special way of ensuring that the magic always happens. It’s also really good for protection against the dark arts, and it does smell rather good, too, doesn’t it, my dear?” It wasn’t really a question, so no up-speak attended the punctuation at the end of her sentence.
“Do you know how many centuries it’s taken not to solve that particular little mystery?”
“Of course I do! And I’ve enjoyed every minute of them all, particularly those through which the true Gothic spirit endured; the Juniper bush took them all to unimaginable heights… at least before the Romans almost figured it out. I must say, it’s very gratifying to have you finally solve the mystery, my dear.”
“What are they gabbling on about,” Silver asked Brian.
“No idea,” he answered with his widest grin firmly in place. “But I don’t think it’s anything you should be overly concerned with. Probably one of those you had to be there things. Bit like The Da Vinci Code, really. I thought Holy Blood and the Holy Grail was the dog’s bo****ks, though, so I let that one slide, just as you should with this, little Miss, you’re-one-of-us-now, Silver.
And Penelope Silver beamed.
…
“So, what’s her game plan, Silver? Any idea?”
“Don’t think she’s got one.” Silver was now concentrating, obviously intent on doing her best to perform well as one of the real good guys for her newfound friends. “Ooh! She did stop to perform some weird-looking-and-sounding ritual that produced clouds and darkness, but I got this strong sense of her not knowing exactly why she was doing it… like she was winging it… panicking a bit, even?”
“And what exactly did she do to get through from there to here?”
“Well, I’m not really sure.” And she certainly didn’t look it. “There we were by that bush one minute, and… oh, yeah… There was this bright flash from somewhere way up above, like in the sky… big pointy rod thing, and she grabbed hold of me.”
“If I may, ladies?” It was Leo… being uncharacteristically tactful, probably to save Silver from fainting at the sight of an eight-foot-tall talking lion wearing full Federation dress uniform. He needn’t have bothered; Silver took one look at him and instantly fell in love with leonineness… and its uniform. “I think that may have been one of our… I mean, one of mine… my people’s. I’ve just had comms to say that an Urmah ship is in the vicinity and that it may be conducting some form of reconnaissance it… shouldn’t. Direct Energy Weapons are usually a part of that type of mission, sanctioned or otherwise; they look like what I believe some Terran ufologists are calling the Rods of God. But I’m pretty sure that, even if they were using one, they wouldn’t have zapped any real juice through it.”
“No, nothing came out of it,” Silver responded. “It just frightened the old bag into doing the multi-headed thing. It was just for a moment, but it did the same for me, and I went all golden eagley, too. Next thing I know, we’re travelling through some kind of sparkly tunnel and facing the shimmering portal thingy. She was so dazed – bit like me the first time – that it’s a wonder she even made it through, ’specially with those dragons trying to stop her. That’s when one of her heads fought back, zapped out the blast that made that golden spaceship takeoff and, well… knocked her out, I think. That’s how I managed to get out of her grasp; got a bit wet but flew away as best I could. Next thing I knew, I was flying into you. Couldn’t believe my luck.”’

Much Love, Light and Freedom, as always,
from the Sovereignty Gang 💥🧙‍♂️🧝‍♀️🧚‍♀️🐉🦁🦄👑🌹,
and me, Tally 😎😇🐝💚💜
🐐

Pics this week: two models with red hair coz I don't know whether she should look angry or alluring – you chose; a juniper bush in St Cat's on Mount Sinai; Hydra Sal in her alter 😁😍🤪.

28/09/2024

Silver – Part Three: The Defining Moment of a Possible SuperHero-or-Heroine?

This week, Silver turns up at the end of the book desperate to redeem herself, forcing Vanda to wonder if, in her own moment of pride, she got it all wrong. You'll just have to read Earth Magic for yourself to figure out if she's right, but that's ok, coz the link's in the post at the top of this page ready and waiting 😁😁😁.

Again, the same italics for telepathic conversations problem; again the same solution: single quotes for italicised text. There's only one – shall we call it a telecon? – and it's right at the beginning 🥰.

’’But first, we have to defeat––’
Vanda had no chance to finish this sentence, assailed as she was by… a golden eagle with singed tail feathers?
“Before you tell me to sod off, please just hear me out.” It was a little difficult to comprehend the words through the beak of her Golden Eagle alter ego, but as soon as it had landed and gathered itself together, it turned into the flame-haired girl Vanda had so recently decided to think more kindly of and whom The Magician had even more recently Looked at for long enough to See at least a few of the things that made her tick.
Her entreaty was delivered so earnestly and with so much unspoken contrition that Vanda could do no other than heed what she had felt of The Magician’s instinctive appraisal of The Woman who, at least in eagle form could not really be considered badly dressed, just still in need of a good preen; now wearing jeans, a T-shirt with a band called The Arthurians inscribed on it and rather tasteful trainers, in her human female form, she seemed to have a bit more fashion acuity than she’d had in the Glastonbury Above. Besides which, she didn’t exactly wait for an answer, just launched into it.
“I knew something was wrong when she sent me to meet you. I mean, I’m a mere underling, a clerk at the bottom of the organisational food chain. I didn’t even know what it was that the organisation did until I got back to her office in the Antique Market and saw it all torn up and flooded and all that. And as for all the lies and stuff, and the coaching, dressing me up for the part she wanted me to play… She said she’d noticed me, that I had the potential she was looking for to carry out this most important job for her. And, I mean, you don’t just turn down the boss when she asks you to do something really important for her that only you can, do you? Especially when she’s known to be a bit of a tartar amongst the ranks. And she kept on praising me, saying what a good job I was going to do and how much better the jobs she’d give me would be once I’d proved myself to be the asset she could see I’d be to her. I kept telling her that what I knew about legacies wouldn’t fill one page, let alone a filing cabinet, but she just kept on at me about sticking to the script we’d been working on, and how I wasn’t to take no for an answer. And I’m sure she put a spell on me because the words coming out of my mouth in that horrible Hartberger and Heisen-thingy place didn’t even sound like my own, and I felt this glitch every time I went off script… Don’t really know why I followed you out to the dig, curiosity, I s’pose. But you could literally have knocked me down with one of my own feathers when I morphed into an eagle. Watching you flip out of that funny Xena costume and into the pretty one was really cool, and him in his handsome Templar costume. I didn’t have a clue what was happening; kept bumbling around, trying to get used to having wings, but I just couldn’t control any of it and kept on getting in the way. Then there was this funny little fella trying to hide a parcel in that bush, and before I knew it, I’d fallen on him, knocking him over, and you’d thrown that sparkly net thing over him. But it was the dragon trying to make toast of me that really sent me flying, that one that flew off your stick and into my face at the same time as he went all Star Trek with his phaser. And once I got back to the car park and turned back into me, I just knew that I had to find some answers, so I drove straight back to the Bristol office to have it out with the old bag and found it all in a state of destruction. That was when I knew something was really wrong and tried facing her down. So, I was all, but we’re doing such a good thing because we’re the ones giving you the money and the like, and she was getting all angry with me for not getting you to give me your plans for this monastery you’re going to build. So, I said something about us being the good guys who wanted to help you so much and how you’d get back to us once you realised that. And she said, and I quote: “Of course, we’re not the good guys, you utter moron. We’re the winners.” Well, that’s when I shut up and started taking real stock of things. Didn’t take me long to find out that the whole organisation was just a front for a criminal racket so deep and dark and dangerous that I really ought to turn tail and run as far as I could in the opposite direction. But I figured she’d only find me and make me pay in some awful way, so I kept on her tail, and here I am. And I know you’re the real good guys… and I really want to be one of you… and perhaps this eagle thing I can do could be useful?”’

Much Love, Light and Freedom, as always,
from the Sovereignty Gang 💥🧙‍♂️🧝‍♀️🧚‍♀️🐉🦁🦄👑🌹,
and me, Tally 😎😇🐝💚💜
🐐

Pics this week: not accurate but still rather thought-provoking in an image-related sort of way... 🦸😁🥰.

The Merlin's Gambit Trilogy

09/11/2024

02/11/2024

26/10/2024

19/10/2024

05/10/2024

28/09/2024

Address

Telephone

Website

Alerts

Contact The Business

Shortcuts

Share

Category

Other Publishers in Bury St. Edmunds