The Vortex: Book III of the Alban Saga
Below, I've included a short excerpt from the beginning of chapter 7. Those of you who have read the other two books in the Alban Saga will recognize the characters in this section.
Chapter 7
During a long and restless night, Bea had been swimming amidst layers and layers of dreams on a stream of subconscious thought. As her mind finally slowed, it came to rest on a vision of her with Aran on the last night she’d spent at her family’s estate – the night before leaving to confront the Druid Priestess, Brenna.
Brenna had been the one who had caused the deaths of her grandmama Elizabeth, her grandmama’s chum, Marta Pottinger, and Fergus Lister, a long-time friend of the family. All three had been in their nineties, but were still healthy and vibrant. Bea had found them in their beds along with a note from Brenna. In it, she admitted to ending their lives and had taunted Bea to come to the Cave of Dreams alone and face her. Bea had been devastated beyond belief at what had happened and never would have made it through the weeks that followed if not for her two dear friends, Anu Grenn and Aran.
Seeing Aran in her dream, Bea suddenly recalled how strong her feelings had become for him. It was the first time those feelings had resurfaced since that night, and she knew why. She had not had room in her life for anything but her obsession with stopping Brenna.
Anu and Aran had begged her not to confront the powerful Priestess on her own. However, Bea would not be deterred. So Anu, who had been Bea’s Druid instructor on the Orkney Isles and a powerful Wiccan in her own right, convinced Bea to at least remain awhile and spend the next several weeks training for what lie ahead.
While working with Anu, Bea had no time for Aran, but afterwards, the two finally had their chance; and that was the moment that Bea was visualizing in her dream. The two of them were sitting together at the center of an ancient oak grove on her estate having a picnic. They had eaten good food and sipped a dram or two of fine whisky. They’d even laughed a bit for the first time in weeks.
As the night went on, she and Aran had held each other close . . . comforted each other . . . and they had kissed . . . for the first time. Recalling that single kiss lingered in Bea’s memory and deepened her feelings for him even more. However, it also dredged up the sting of worry and fear within her because she had no idea where he was or what had happened to him since they had been separated inside the Vortex. It was almost too much to abide, and the panic of that thought awakened her. Her eyes flew open, and as they did, she sensed the coolness of tears gliding down her face. Brushing them away, she sat up and wrapped her arms around herself in comfort. Then she noticed someone sitting on the floor nearby. She turned her head slightly and saw the venerable prophet, Erin.
He reached out with his gnarled, wrinkled hand and lightly touched her shoulder. His eyes were warm with care and concern as he muttered, “Ye alright, lass?”
“Aye, I will be . . . just need a minute, though.”
Erin poured a cup of tea for her with lots of sugar. Bea accepted it and cradled it in the palms of her hands.
Erin waited for Bea to speak. He had noticed her tears, but he’d also caught sight of a faraway look in her eyes as she softly slid two fingers across her lips. He couldn’t help but ask if she had been dreaming about Aran.
Bea simply nodded as he said, “Ye have feelings for the lad, aye?
