Updating The ROOMS’ SERIES—New Chapter 1 Excerpt Included!

 

 

The Rooms' Series

With all that’s happening around the world today, this unique science fiction series is more relevant today than ever. That’s why I’ve decided to create a new updated version of the two-book series. I’ll let you know when it’s done, and they are both available on Amazon.

Below, I’ve included an excerpt from the first book in the series, ROOMS!

Chapter 1

O-244

Ever since he was very young, Rad had always been able to see his life laid out in front of him very clearly. He would travel from one lifeglobe to another, do his job during the day, and then spend the rest of his time training, preparing, and educating himself to play the Rooms’ circuit at night and on free-days.

Becoming an elite player was all that he had ever wanted, and as he conquered one Room, he would move on to the next. It was his identity, and it was what most young people inside a lifeglobe ever thought about. It took them places, holographically, provided experiences, challenged them, and gave them a sense of the universe that they otherwise could never have had. And as the Rooms improved and advanced technologically, they also became more demanding, enticing, and addictive. So, what had happened? What had made him do what he’d done that night?

 

***

 

Rad returned to his flat and looked in the mirror. His hair, although a bit disheveled, was still black and full, his eyes still pools of blue, and his skin more brown and darker than most who lived in a lifeglobe. But something was different. His face now carried a series of red blotches that made the memory of what he had done come flooding back. And there was something else—something that no one could see in the mirror but him. He had changed inside.

Rad slowly pulled himself away from the reflection and sat down on his bed. He stared through the outview of his flat, looking out towards where it had all happened. It had only been thirty minutes or so since the event, but it had been long enough that it was beginning to feel a bit surreal. He could still see it in his mind, but the memory was slightly skewed and caused him to shiver. Why had he taken such a chance?

As the minutes passed, one word kept intruding on Rad’s thoughts and eventually escaped his lips. “Outside!” Outside, beyond the barriers, the walls, and the plastishield dome lay a forbidden place—a dangerous, wild, and unforgiving place where very few from any lifeglobe ever ventured. Sure, the maintenance crews, engineers, miners, and scientists had to go there at times, but the normal populace would never consider it. It had been an unwritten law throughout the galaxy for generations: you could fry your brains or be exposed to hazardous chemicals and toxins. You could easily die of exposure. Your survival suit could malfunction. There was no air, no water, no food… But Rad had done it. He had been there; he had survived, and he never wanted to forget it. It was more than just an experience, far more than a simple holographic Rooms’ adventure. He knew that it would forever be a seminal moment in his life.

He stood and walked over to his desk, took out pen and paper, sat down, and started writing it all down: every feeling, every second, every thought.

 

O-244 was my first assignment on a lifeglobe away from my parents. Everything was new and vibrant. I loved every part of it. I had a great job, was meeting people on my own, and this lifeglobe was a lot more exciting than the one where I’d lived with my family. I’d chosen this assignment because of its Rooms’ circuit, and it was also close enough to my parents’ home that we could visit each other once in a while.

O-244 is a lunar planet. It has no atmosphere. It hovers far from its parent planet, which happens to be a gas giant. Its surface is rugged, with colors of black and tan due to the minerals and rocks within its crust. Viewing it from inside the lifeglobe seems immediately mysterious and beautiful. When I first arrived, I remember thinking, ‘I wonder what it would be like to walk outside on its surface?’

After I got here, I quickly settled into my first real job. I was part of the governing and planning council and enjoyed the work. We heard people’s complaints and problems and worked with the scientists, engineers, miners, and maintenance crews to help keep the lifeglobe running and functioning properly.

In the evenings and on my free-days, I began my preparations to become an elite Rooms’ player. The Rooms are an unbelievable form of entertainment, but you never enter them without a good deal of preparation. That is, unless all you want is to be an observer. If you plan on actually playing, you must study and train. Competing against other players, as well as advanced computer arrays, nanos, and holographic simulations, is not something to enter into lightly. I studied yoga, meditation, and planetary history. I also conducted as much research into the development of the Rooms as I could, and during that process, I learned a great deal about the human race’s ancestral home—Earth.

I did all of that, and after living, working, and playing the Rooms on O-244 for over three years, I finally arrived at the present, making me wonder,‘Why was life here not enough for me?’ I had friends, my work was satisfying, and my training and education had gone well. I was doing what I had always wanted to do. I was an accomplished and talented Rooms’ player—not elite yet, but better every day.

However, the confines of living inside a lifeglobe, along with a yearning that had developed from my studies, began eating at me. I was happy, and of course, I loved playing the Rooms, but something was missing. I found myself thinking about how the human race had once lived on Earth. Yes, they had to have shelters and clothes to protect them from the elements, but they were free to breathe the air, drink fresh water, eat food that had been grown from earth’s rich soil, and they could feel the sun, wind, and rain upon their skin.

As I went about my daily life, my mind fixated on that ancestral experience. It made its way into my dreams, and I found myself looking out through the domed lifeglobe at the surface of this beautiful moon, wondering how it would be to walk outside on its surface without anything between it and me.

So, the day came when I started planning. I spoke with a friend in maintenance who would lend me a survival suit and another friend, a scientist, who often went out onto the surface of O-244 to conduct experiments. Because of my standing on the council, I was able to get permission to exit the lifeglobe on the condition that I would go with my friend to look at his experiments and then return after no more than thirty minutes. Everything was ready.

The day came, and I met Charlie after work in the dressing room for Airlock-12. We casually chatted for a while and then entered the airlock. My survival suit was gray, featuring a simple, functional design that sealed my body from head to toe. An external airpack on the back had tubes that connected to my helmet. The facemask was made from thick plastishield and was tinted with a dense, yellowish film to protect my eyes and face. The whole suit was designed to minimize radiation exposure while remaining light enough to not be cumbersome. Charlie helped me into it, and I had him explain all the connections and features so that I understood how it worked. I practiced taking the facemask on and off a few times just to make sure I could do it.

Before we exited the lifeglobe, we checked each other’s suits and intercoms. Everything worked. Charlie put his code into the exterior door’s keypad. The door opened and then automatically sealed behind us. I can still remember the ‘whooshing’ sound.

I immediately felt lighter and off balance. The gravity on the moon’s surface was about a tenth of what we were used to inside the lifeglobe. It was an awkward sensation for a short time, but with Charlie’s help, I adapted.

Making our way to a shed nearby, we walked inside. Charlie explained his low-grav experiments where he was growing certain types of bioengineered plants inside the protective structure. It was interesting, but of course, that was not why I had come.

When we were done, we started walking back to the airlock. I was behind Charlie. He didn’t notice that I had stopped. The sun had just set. In the distance, I could see pinpoints of stars in the dark sky and a slight glow from the gas giant on the horizon. It would soon rise into the sky and become visible. I could also see the edge of some craters and a series of low mountains several kilometers away. I knew that the colors of the soil and rocks should be black and tan, but through my tinted facemask, the colors were distorted. The same was true for the glow from the gas giant and the stars that were blinking on above me.

The time had finally come. I glanced over my shoulder one last time; Charlie had continued walking toward the airlock. I reached up and prepared to unlock and remove my facemask. My heart was pounding, and I could feel my hands shaking. I wanted this, but it was not going to be easy. I would only have a few seconds before I had to replace the optical shield once it was removed.

I glanced once more towards Charlie, took a deep breath and unclipped the shield. I can still remember the sounds and sensations as it happened. There was a click as the shield released, and a loud rush of air moved past my face. I kept my eyes closed for the first several seconds but then opened them and had a moment of utter astonishment. My strong emotions made it extremely difficult to hold my breath, but I steadied myself and focused on the moment. The clarity and beauty of the world that I now saw, viewed without obstructions or glass barriers, was glorious. The horizon was crisp, the mountains larger and more pronounced, the stars burst across the black sky clear and bright, and the glow from the slowly rising gas giant was massive and multi-colored as it began to stretch across the horizon—all of it magnificent and unbelievably crystalline and real.

But then the hazardous nature of my situation transcended my excitement. I began to ache from the severe cold that threatened to freeze my skin. My lungs throbbed from the need to inhale, and my eyes were watering and clouding over from exposure to the elements. I hung on, but I was beginning to feel light-headed and dizzy—my head and ears pounding from the change in pressure.

My brain shrieked at me to replace the plastishield orb and re-pressurize my suit before I lost consciousness. Yet even then, despite the pain pulsing through my body, I maintained for a few more seconds. Alive! I was alive, and this was beyond my wildest dreams!

I replaced the cover just in time. My suit and helmet rapidly filled with oxygen, and my burning lungs took it in. I immediately felt the warmth from my suit as it relieved the incredible cold. Then a hand forcefully grabbed my shoulder and turned me around. I looked up into the frightened eyes of my friend and heard him yell, “What the hell were you doing, Rad? Is this why you brought me out here? You could have easily died! You crazy bastard! Damn you!”

I recovered and did my best to explain, but he was still angry and refused to discuss it. I did convince him to keep what had happened to himself, but I think I may have lost Charlie as a friend that night. Even so, seeing and experiencing the world without anything blocking or limiting me was an unbelievable phenomenon that I would never forget. Everywhere I’d ever been, there had always been the necessity to look through something—some barrier continually protecting me from the “out there.” Everyone was forever protected from the "out there.”

VORTEX: Book III of the Alban Saga / Chapter 1 Excerpt

   

Image: "Vortex bw" by ahisgett is licensed under CC by 2.0

Since Vortex was just published, here’s the first chapter for you to read! It’s available now on Amazon sites around the world.

Chapter 1

Una Murray

2 November 2026

 

 

Una Murray lived on several acres of land near Stornoway on the Isle of Lewis in a thatch-roofed, white stucco cottage. Her parents, Kane and Artis Murray, shortly after their marriage, had decided to rent the croft and tend it. After struggling for several years, their fortunes eventually changed, and they were able to save enough to purchase it from their landlord. When Una was born, they tore down the sparse one-room stone structure and built a three-room cottage for them and their new daughter.

After her parents died, Una stayed on to work the farm. When she had saved enough money, she did a bit of remodeling with the help of one of her neighbors, Angus MacAulay. She added electricity, an indoor bathroom, and an updated kitchen, although the bedroom and living area remained much the same as they had since her birth.

Una had never been one to keep a tidy home. For her, other things were much more important such as tending the garden, feeding her animals, or pursuing one of her many interests. The cottage was basically clean, though continually cluttered with a jumble of knickknacks, books, and projects of all types lying about. The main room contained the fireplace and two comfy chairs that were layered in woolen blankets and shawls. This is where she usually spent her evenings relaxing, having a dram of whisky, or reading and thinking. The eating area had a small table with some straight-back, wooden chairs. She ate her meals and worked on projects during the day in that part of the cottage. Next to that was the kitchen in which the sink was inevitably stacked with a day’s worth of dishes, the stove with something invariably bubbling away, and the oven, often exuding the rich aromas of something baking within. She was extremely thankful that Angus had talked her into finally hooking her cottage up to electricity; it had been a godsend for cooking and for those times when she required sufficient light to work by. In the evenings, though, she usually shut the lamps off, preferring the cozy ambience of candles and firelight to keep her company. It was how she’d grown up.

Outside her home, Una had a small garden, some chickens, a few sheep, two goats wandering her property, along with a large shed that housed various croft necessities and some animals during bad weather. The land was bounded by ancient dry-stone walls, and she had lived all of her sixty-nine years there becoming an integral part of the history and fiber of Stornoway. Although as to her communal ties, they consisted mostly of a couple of her closest neighbors and a few select members of the Druid and Wiccan community with whom she’d stayed in contact.

And on this particular early November eve, Una had completed her chores and was sitting down to a meal of tattie scones, hotch potch stew, and tea. The simmering bowl of lamb and vegetables was hearty enough to warm her insides, while the peat fire in the hearth outwardly calmed and soothed her. The weather had finally turned from sunny and clear to the usual damp and cold autumn drizzle, which she knew would be with her for months to come.

Lifting the last spoonful of liquid to her lips, she swallowed and then ate what was left of her scones. Then she added her dirty dishes to the others in the sink and wiped the table clean. Once her dinner chores were done, she walked over to her favourite chair and pulled it closer to the fire. It needed tending; she placed another brick of peat amongst the smoldering flames and stoked it with an iron poker. Now she was ready to settle in for the rest of the evening and relax. Gathering up one of her worn and tattered woolen blankets, she threw it over her shoulders, sat down, and placed her tired and achy feet on an old, wooden footstool. Una then breathed out a satisfied sigh and focused her weary eyes on the flickering red, blue, and yellow flames, dancing inside the hearth.

It wasn’t long before her eyelids became heavy; she could feel her bed calling to her. However, the pull of another old habit was much stronger and overcame her need for sleep. Shaking her head, she opened her eyes and reached for her favourite single malt and snifter. Pouring herself a wee dram, she cupped the glass between her palms and breathed in its peaty, rich, and earthy vapours. It smelled of Scotland. She took her time with it until the last sip lay upon her palate and oozed down the back of her throat.

Another long sigh accompanied the completion of this nightly ritual. Then she laid the glass to one side and was about to get up when she was abruptly shaken from her reverie by a loud pounding on her door. Una seldom, if ever, had company, especially after dark. The pounding came again, weaker this time but just as insistent. Then again—silence.

Keeping the blanket around her shoulders, she rose to her feet, grabbed the iron poker laying against the stones of the fireplace, and walked warily towards the four-paned window beside the front door. She pulled the curtain back just enough to glance outside, but couldn’t see anyone. She didn’t want to open the door but knew there was no getting round it.

Grasping the handle with one hand and holding the poker above her head with the other, she opened the door, just a tick. Peering out, Una couldn’t see anyone until she glanced down. Kneeling on the ground in front of her was a person, bent over. Under the thick, brown woolen robe, Una could not tell whether it was a man or a woman. The garment hung rain-soaked and heavy over their frame; their sandals were thoroughly caked in mud, and the head of the person was bowed and shielded by the hood of the robe. In the absence of a sash, the person’s left hand was clutching the front of the robe to keep it closed, and in their right was a long, wooden staff with a blood-red jewel at one end.

Una instantly recognized the staff as that of a Druid Priest or Priestess. It gave her pause, but as she considered her options, she made up her mind and opened the door a bit more. Then she gruffly asked, “Who are ye, and why are ye at my door this time o’ night?”

 The person glanced up. Una could now see that it was a woman. Her long red hair, tinged with bits of grey, was wet and matted against her forehead and face. Her lips were blue and quivering as she spoke unsteadily, asking, “Can I… come in? I’m soaked to the bone, and… I’m exhausted and freezing. Please!”

Sensing her desperation, Una laid the poker aside, helped her to her feet, and said, “Come with me, then.” As soon as Una touched her, it was clear that the poor woman had been speaking the truth about her condition. Her skin was frigid, and she trembled uncontrollably—so weak and frail that Una had to use almost all of her strength just to get the woman to her feet and help her over to a chair by the fire.

Once Una had helped her sit down, she took a moment to catch her breath. Then she said, “Here, give me yer staff. I’ll help ye out o’ yer sandals and robe before ye catch yer death, eh!”

In response, the woman nodded slightly and handed her staff to Una. Una laid it to one side and removed her wet, heavy garment, which took some effort. She then grasped the blanket from her own shoulders, wrapped it around the woman’s upper body, and knelt down in front of her. Taking off her sandals, she laid them by the fire and wiped the remaining mud from her feet. 

There was some stew left on the stove. Una got up, washed her hands, and ladled some into a bowl. Placing it on a tray along with a fresh whisky glass, she brought the tray out, and set the bowl and glass on the small table next to the woman. Then, Una poured a healthy dram for her and put the tray back on the kitchen table.

Una could tell that the woman was clearly in need of sustenance; her hands still trembled uncontrollably from the cold. However, the first thing she reached for wasn’t the stew; it was the whisky. Una used her own hands to steady the woman’s grip on the glass. She finished the whisky in just a few sips and then tucked into the bowl of stew as Una continued to help her. The combination of food and dram had clearly done the trick; her trembling had lessened. Now she was able to hold onto the spoon well enough to eat on her own. Seeing this, Una poured another dram for her and went back to the kitchen for some scones to accompany the stew.

Putting another brick of peat on the fire, Una then placed an additional blanket around the woman’s legs and took a moment to study her. Then she asked, “So, lass, d’ye have a name?”

“Aye…”

Her single-word answer made Una chuckle a bit. She replied, “Well, what is it, then? I cannae just call ye ‘woman’!”

That brought a wan smile to the woman’s lips. She sipped the whisky once more, swallowed, and said, “My name’s Obsidian—Obsidian Ualas.”

“Ualas—ye don’t hear that name often. I reckon it’s old Gaelic, eh?”

“’Tis. And… um… may I ask you something?”

“Aye.”

“This’ll sound strange, but… what year is it?”

Una tilted her head, confused by the request and couldn’t help asking, “Ye dinnae ken what year ‘tis?”

Obsidian merely answered, “Aye, I’m a bit muddled right now.”

She had obviously been through a lot. Una obliged her and answered, “Well, ‘tis two thousand twenty-six, lass!” Then she asked again, “Did ye no’ ken that?”

Hearing the answer, Obsidian’s eyes widened, carrying a flash of anger. This quickly vanished, replaced by honest despair as tears gathered and glistened in the corners of her eyes. Glancing away, hoping the old woman had not noticed, she whispered to herself, “So it’s true!”

 

***

 

That night and the following day passed. Una’s time was consumed with nursing the woman back to health, and as she did, it became even more evident that Obsidian had endured something truly terrible. Una wanted to talk to her about it but knew that it would be useless to press her until she was stronger.

On the evening of Obsidian’s second night at the cottage, after finishing her first full meal, she sat by the fire, curled up in one of Una’s blankets, watching the old woman clean up after dinner. Una noticed and commented, “Ye seem a great deal better, lass.”

“Much better, aye! Thanks to you. I can’t believe how much I ate tonight.”

Una chuckled and said, “Aye, ye did that awright! I didnae even have t’ clean yer plate!”

Obsidian smiled, chuckled a bit to herself, and replied, “As with all your food, Una, it was delicious.”

“That’s the first time I’ve heard ye laugh, lass, even just a little. Ye must be on the mend!” With that, Una reached for two snifters and poured some whisky into each. She brought them over and handed one to Obsidian. Then she sat down beside her and wrapped herself in her own woolen blanket. Settling into her chair, she sighed, “Well, lass, it’s clear ye’ve been through somethin’ awful. Since ye feel better, would ye like t’ talk a bit now?”

“Una… actually, that’s why I showed up at your door.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve been looking everywhere for someone I’ve heard about called the Keeper. I have to ask… are you her?”

Una didn’t change her expression one jot and answered, “What? I’m just an old woman out here takin’ care o’ my family croft. What makes ye think I’ve anythin’ t’ do with this Keeper?”

“Well, I’ve spent the last seven days looking for that person. If you’re not her, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

Una didn’t respond, except to say, “Go on, lass…” With those words, it all came spilling out of Obsidian.

“Three years ago, I was an acolyte in a Druid Grove near here. Our leader’s name was Brenna. All of us knew that she would sometimes meet with a person she called the Keeper. It was evident that, whoever it was, Brenna held them in high regard because of their deep understanding of Druid history. She even mentioned that the Keeper’s knowledge went as far back as the very first Druids who lived on Alba. It was also clear to us that the Keeper was a woman because that’s how Brenna referred to her. We also learned that she lived somewhere close by, though Brenna never told us exactly where or her actual name. Brenna was adamant that no one besides her would ever be allowed to meet with the Keeper or seek her out.

“Then—and this may be hard to fathom—but seven days ago, Brenna brought me through a time Vortex. It originated within a cavern called the Black Grotto, which is inside another larger one called the Cave of Dreams. They’re both high up on the side of one of the Three Sisters near Glen Coe. Do you know where that is?”

“Aye, I ken where that is, lass.”

“And besides me, she also brought a young Priestess named Bea Bauman with her. It’s a long story, but Brenna needed to transport the Bauman girl into the future and join with her at the Stones of Calanais on the night of the twenty-year harvest moon. If the joining had happened, Brenna would have become a mighty Druid Priestess called the Hermaphrodite. However, the young Priestess was much more powerful than Brenna had expected. What finally happened, as I learned later, was that Brenna and the young Priestess did join, but Brenna did not become the Hermaphrodite. She was simply subsumed into Bea Bauman and became a part of her.

“I was there during all of that, but I didn’t actually witness everything. That was because, just as I was trying to help Brenna complete the joining, someone struck me on the back of the head and knocked me out. When I came to, there was only one person standing where the two of them had been before, and that was Bea Bauman. Brenna was nowhere to be seen, and her staff lay on the ground. None of it made any sense to me. Then I noticed two other people who hadn’t been there when we first arrived. One was an older woman and the other, a younger man. Anyway, that’s when I questioned Bauman about what had happened. She explained what had taken place. I was incredibly angry and distraught. I didn’t know what to do, so I just picked up Brenna’s staff and walked away.

“As I left, I hid behind one of the stones along the causeway leading up to the main circle. I stayed there and watched for a while. That’s when I saw the young Priestess call another Vortex down from the heavens. She, the old woman, and the younger man were pulled up into it. Then they, along with the Vortex, vanished. I assumed that they had returned to the Black Grotto in their own time. I was left here, alone, sometime in the future.”

Una had been keenly listening without comment. Then she stated, “That’s quite the story, lass.”

“I know. It must sound like I’m out of my mind, but, Una, it’s true. I swear it!”

Una looked down in thought for a moment, then asked, “That was seven days ago?”

“Aye, and during those days, I was looking for the Keeper. In Brenna’s grove, she chose two of her acolytes to be her closest advisors and confidantes; I was one of them. The other was named Zephyr Quinn. Brenna shared more about the Keeper with the two of us than with any of her other acolytes. She told us that not only was the Keeper a powerful Wiccan who possessed the long and detailed history of our people, but she also carried considerable knowledge of the past, present, and future in a way that would be incredibly helpful once she became the Hermaphrodite. Of course, as I’ve already mentioned, that did not happen.

“My first few days here, I attempted to find other members of my grove. I needed to tell them what had happened, but so much time had passed since I’d left with Brenna that most of them had either moved away or no longer had anything to do with our faith. For the few I was able to locate who still lived in Stornoway, they simply didn’t want to speak to me and slammed their doors in my face. I was hungry, confused, tired, and utterly shattered from it all. I didn’t know where to turn until I remembered the Keeper. I knew that she would be my best and only chance to survive and help me figure out what I needed to do next.

“So, I started asking around and searching for her. No one knew anything for certain, but there were rumours that a few people were willing to share. I followed up on those, and I’ve visited more cottages and crofts over the past few days than I care to count. Then, earlier today, I spoke with a man named Angus MacAulay. He didn’t know anything about the Keeper, but he thought that you might. He gave me directions to your place, and that’s how I ended up on your doorstep. When I knocked, I was at the end of my wits and my strength. Whether you are the Keeper or not, Una, I am truly thankful that you took me in and helped me. I’m in your debt, but I also need to know—are you the Keeper?”

Una had remained silent and stone-faced during Obsidian’s entire story, but once she finished, Una turned her head to one side and blinked several times, contemplating what she should do. Then, turning back towards her visitor, she asked, “Could ye hand me yer staff, lass?”

Obsidian furrowed her brow questioningly but, nonetheless, picked up her staff and handed it to Una. Una laid it in her lap and ran her hands along the old, gnarled wood, very slowly. When she came to the bloodstone at its tip, she paused, wrapped her fingers around it, and focused her eyes directly on the stone. After a time, a tiny ember began to glow within it. As that happened, Una changed her grip on the staff and held the end with the bloodstone out to Obsidian, saying, “Hold on, lass, wi’ both hands. Dinnae let go, nae matter what, ye ken?”

“Aye, but…”

Una shushed her and motioned for her to comply.

Obsidian grasped the bloodstone and pulled it towards her. The ember inside grew in intensity and brightened. By then, she was held fast in its magnetic crimson aura and couldn’t have wrested it from her grip even if she had tried.

    Una, at the other end, continued to magnify and strengthen the spell’s power as it traveled through the old wooden staff, the flaming jewel, and then into Obsidian. As this happened, Una began to probe the young acolyte with her mind, searching and digging—for the truth.

New Book Excerpt: Chapter 1 Of THE VORTEX: Book III of the Alban Saga

  

"Vortex bw" by ahisgett is licensed under CC by 2.0

The Vortex: Book III of the Alban Saga

Below, I've included the entire first chapter of this book. Those of you who have read the other two books in the Alban Saga will recognize one of the characters in this section.

Chapter 1

Una Murray

2 November 2026

 

 

Una Murray lived on several acres of land near Stornoway on the Isle of Lewis in a thatch-roofed, white stucco cottage. Her mother and father, shortly after their marriage, had decided to rent the croft and tend it. Eventually, they purchased it from the landlord, and when Una was born, they tore down the sparse one-room stone structure and built a three-room cottage for them and their new daughter.

After her parents died, Una stayed on to work the farm. When she had enough money saved, she did a bit of remodeling of her own with the help of Angus MacAulay, one of her neighbors. They added electricity, an indoor bathroom, and an updated kitchen, but the bedroom and living area stayed much the same as they’d been since her birth.

Una had never been one to keep a tidy home. For her, other things were much more important, such as tending the garden, feeding her animals, or pursuing one of her many interests. The cottage was basically clean, but continually cluttered with a jumble of knickknacks, books, and projects of all types lying about. The main room, with the fireplace and eating area, contained wooden furniture layered in woolen blankets and shawls and a small table and chair where she ate her meals and worked on projects. Next to that was the kitchen in which the sink was inevitably stacked with a day’s worth of dishes, the stove, with something bubbling away, and the oven exuding rich aromas of something baking away inside. She was extremely thankful that Angus had talked her into finally hooking her cottage up to electricity. It had been a godsend for cooking and when she needed sufficient light to work by. In the evenings, though, she usually turned off the lamps, preferring candles and firelight to keep her company. It’s the way she’d grown up.

Outside her home, Una had a small garden, some chickens, a few sheep, and two goats that wandered her property. The land was bounded by ancient dry-stone walls, and she had lived all of her eighty-two years there as part and parcel of the history and fiber of Stornoway. Her communal ties lay mostly with her closest neighbors and a few select members of the Druid and Wiccan community.

On this early November eve, Una had completed her chores and was sitting down to a meal of tattie scones, hotch potch stew, and tea. The simmering bowl of lamb and vegetables was hearty enough to warm her insides, while the peat fire in the fireplace calmed and soothed her. The weather had finally turned from sunny and clear to the usual damp and cold autumn drizzle that she knew would be with her for months.

She lifted the last spoonful of liquid to her lips and swallowed what was left of her scones. Then she added her dirty dishes to the others in the sink and wiped the table clean. Pulling her chair closer to the fire, she placed another brick of peat on the smoldering flames, stoked them with an iron poker, and gathered one of her worn and tattered woolen blankets around her shoulders. She sat down and placed her tired and achy feet on an old wooden footstool and stared into the flickering red, blue, and yellow flames that arose from the peat fire, and breathed out a deep, satisfying sigh.

It wasn’t long before her eyelids felt heavy. She could feel herself needing to go to bed, but, as was her usual custom, she fought off sleep for the moment and reached for her favourite single malt and snifter. She poured a wee dram into the glass to sleep by and breathed it in. It smelled of Scotland - peaty, rich, and earthy. Cupping the glass between her palms, she took her time with it until the last sip lay upon her palate and melted down the back of her throat.

Another long sigh accompanied the completion of her nightly ritual. Then she laid the glass to one side and was about to get up when she was shaken from her reverie by a loud pounding on her door. Una seldom had company and hardly ever after dark. The pounding came again, weaker this time, but just as insistent. Then again, silence.

Keeping the blanket around her, she came to her feet, grabbed the iron poker that she’d laid against the stones of the fireplace, and walked warily towards the four-paned window to one side of the door. She pulled the curtain back just enough to glance outside but couldn’t see anyone. She didn’t want to open the door but knew that there was no getting round it.

Grasping the handle with one hand and holding the poker above her head with the other, she opened it just a crack. Peering out, she couldn’t see anyone until she glanced down. Kneeling on the ground in front of her was a person, bent over. She couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman under the thick, brown woolen robe. It was rain-soaked and hanging heavy over their frame. Whomever it was had sandals that were caked in mud, and their head was bowed and shielded by the hood of the robe. In the absence of a sash, the person’s left hand was clutching the front of the robe to keep it closed, and in their right was a long, wooden staff with a blood-red jewel at one end.

Una instantly recognized the staff as that of a Druid priest or priestess. It gave her pause. Then she opened the door a bit more and abruptly asked, “Who are ye? Why are ye at my door at this time o’ night?”

 The person glanced up. Una could now see that it was a woman. Her long red hair was wet and matted against her forehead and face; her lips were blue and quivering. She spoke unsteadily and asked, “Can I come in? I’m soaked to the bone, and . . . I’m weak and freezing . . . please!”

Sensing her desperation, Una laid the poker to one side. She helped her to her feet and said, “Come with me.” As soon as Una touched her, it was clear that the poor woman had been speaking the truth about her condition. She was trembling uncontrollably and was so weak and frail that Una had to use almost all of her strength just to her get to her feet so that they could walk over to the chair by the fire.

Once there, Una said, “Here, give me yer staff. I’ll help ye out of yer sandals and robe before ye catch yer death!”

In response, the woman gave a slight nod. Una laid the staff to one side and removed the wet, heavy garment, which took some doing. She wrapped her own blanket around the woman’s upper body and helped her sit down. Then she knelt down in front of her, took her sandals off, laid them by the fire, and wiped the mud from her feet. 

There was some stew left on the stove, so Una ladled some into a bowl and poured a healthy dram of whisky into a second snifter. At first, she had to help the woman eat and drink because her hands were trembling so uncontrollably. She finished the whisky before even touching the food. Una poured another dram for her and got some scones that she could eat with the stew. At that point, the woman’s trembling had eased just enough that she could manage on her own.

Una put another brick of peat on the fire and placed an additional blanket around the woman’s legs. Then she studied her for a time, and asked, “So lass, do ye have a name?”

“Aye.”

Her answer made Una chuckle a bit, and she said, “Well, what is it then? I cannae just call ye woman.”

That brought a wan smile to her lips. She sipped once more on the whisky, swallowed, and replied, “My name is . . . Obsidian Ualas.”

“Ualas . . . ye don’t hear that name often. I reckon it’s old Gaelic, eh?”

“’Tis. Um . . . can I ask you something?”

“Aye.”

“This’ll sound strange, but…what year is it?”

Una tilted her head, confused by the request, and asked, “Ye want t’ know what year ‘tis?”

Obsidian merely answered, “Aye, I’m a bit muddled right now.”

It was clear that she’d been through a lot, so Una obliged her with an answer and said, “Well, ‘tis two thousand twenty-six, lass. Ye didn’t know that?”

With the answer, Obisidian’s eyes widened and carried a flash of anger. The look quickly vanished and was replaced by one of despair. Then tears started to gather and glisten in the corner of her eyes. She glanced away, hoping that the old woman hadn’t noticed, and then whispered to herself, “So it’s true . . .” 

 

***

 

That night and another day had passed. Una’s time was consumed with nursing her young friend back to health. And, it was more and more evident that Obsidian had been through something terrible. Una wanted to talk to her about it but knew that it was useless to press her for details until she was stronger.

On the evening of Obsidian’s second night at the cottage, after finishing her first full meal, she was sitting by the fire, curled up in one of Una’s blankets, and watching intently as the old woman cleaned up after dinner.

Una noticed Obsidian looking at her and commented, “Ye seem a great deal better, lass. How are ye feelin’, then?”

“Much better, thanks to you. I think my appetite’s finally coming back.”

Una chuckled and said, “Aye, it looks that way! I dinnae even have to clean yer plate!”

Obsidian smiled and chuckled a bit herself as she said, “It was delicious, Una.”

“That’s the first time I’ve heard ye laugh, even just a little . . .. Ye must be on the mend!”

Then Una reached for two snifters and poured some whisky into each. She brought them over and handed one to Obsidian, sat down beside her near the fire, and wrapped up in her own woolen comforter. Settling into her chair, she sighed, “Well, lass, it’s clear ye’ve been through somethin’ awful. Since ye feel better, would ye like to talk a bit now?”

“Una . . . actually that’s why I showed up at your door.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve been looking everywhere for someone named the Keeper. Are you her?”

Una didn’t change her expression one jot as she asked, “What? I’m just an old woman out here takin’ care o’ my ol’ family croft. What makes ye think I have anythin’ to do with this . . . Keeper?”

“Well, I’ve spent the last seven days looking for that person, and if you’re not the Keeper, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

Una didn’t respond, except to say, “Go on, lass,” and with those words, it all came spilling out of her.

“Three years ago, I was an acolyte in a Druid grove near here. Our leader’s name was Brenna. All of us knew that she would sometimes meet with a person called the Keeper. It was evident that whomever that person was, Brenna held them in high regard because of their understanding of Druid history that went as far back as the very first Druids on the Isle of Alba. It was also clear that the Keeper was a woman, because that’s how Brenna referred to her. We also knew that she lived somewhere near Stornoway, but Brenna never told us her actual name or the exact location of her house. She was adamant that no one, besides her, would be allowed to meet with the Keeper or seek her out.

“Then - and this may be hard to fathom - seven days ago, Brenna brought me through a time vortex that originated inside a cavern called the Black Grotto. That cavern is inside another larger one called the Cave of Dreams. It’s far up on the side of one of the Three Sisters near Glen Coe. Do you know where that is?”

“I do, lass.”

“And besides me, she also brought a young priestess named Bea Bauman. It’s a long story, but Brenna needed to take her into the future from there and join with her at the Stones of Calanais on the night of a twenty-year harvest moon. If the joining had happened, Brenna would have become the Hermaphrodite – the greatest enchanter in all the world. However, the young priestess was much more powerful that Brenna had expected, and what finally happened, as I learned later, was that Brenna and the young priestess did join, but Brenna did not become the Hermaphrodite. She was simply subsumed into Bea Bauman and became a part of her.

“I was there, but I didn’t actually witness everything that happened, because, just as I was trying to help Brenna complete the process, someone hit me on the head and knocked me out. When I came to, I only saw Bea Bauman standing where she and Brenna had been before I’d lost consciousness. It didn’t make sense to me. Then I noticed two other people that hadn’t been there before. One was an older woman and the other, a younger man. Anyway, that’s when I questioned Bauman. She explained what had taken place, and I was terribly distraught. I didn’t know what to do, so . . . I just walked away.

“As I left, I hid behind one of the stones along the causeway that led up to the main circle. I stayed there and watched for some time. That’s when I saw the young priestess call a vortex down from the heavens. All three of them were pulled up into it. Then they, and the vortex, vanished. I assumed that they had returned to the Black Grotto and to their own time. I was left here, alone, sometime in the future.”

Una had been keenly listening without comment. Then she asked, “That’s quite the story, lass.”

“I know it must sound unbelievable, but, Una, it’s true. I swear!”

Una looked down in thought a moment and then asked, “That was seven days ago?”

“Aye, and during those days I’ve been looking for the Keeper. In Brenna’s grove, she chose two of her acolytes to be her closest advisors and confidantes. I was one of them. The other was named Zephyr. Brenna shared more about the Keeper with the two of us than with the any of the other acolytes. She told us that not only was the Keeper a powerful Wiccan who possessed the long and detailed history of our people, but she also carried the knowledge of the past, present, and future in a way that would be incredibly helpful to her once she became the Hermaphrodite. Of course, as I’ve already shared with you, that didn’t happen.

“My first few days, I attempted to find other members of my grove. I needed to tell them what happened. But it wasn’t long before I realized that most of them had either moved away or no longer had anything to do with our faith. When I tried to speak to those that hadremained, they simply slammed the door in my face. I was hungry, confused, tired, and utterly shattered from it all. And there was nowhere for me to turn . . . nowhere that is, until I remembered the Keeper. I knew that she was my only chance to survive and figure out what I needed to do.

“So, I started asking around and searching. No one knew anything for certain, but there were rumors that a few were willing to share. I followed up on those, and I’ve been to more cottages and crofts than I care to count. Then, earlier today, I spoke with a man named, Angus MacAulay. He didn’t know anything about the Keeper, but he thought that you might. He gave me directions to your place, and that’s how I ended up at your doorstep. I was at the end of my strength as well as my wits, when I knocked on your door. Whether you are the Keeper or not, Una, I am truly thankful that you took me in and helped me. I’m in your debt, but I also need to know . . . are you . . . the Keeper?”

Una had remained silent and stone-faced during the entire story, but once Obsidian had finished, she turned her head to one side and blinked several times in thought. Then, turning back towards Obsidian, she asked, “Could ye hand me yer staff, lass?”

Obsidian furrowed her brow questioningly but nonetheless reached for it and handed it to Una. Then she sat back down in her chair. Una laid the staff in her lap and ran her hands, very slowly, along the old, gnarled wood. When she came to the bloodstone at its end, she paused and wrapped her fingers round it. She focused her eyes on the stone, and after a time, a small ember began to glow within it. As that happened, Una changed her grip on the staff and held the end with the bloodstone out towards Obsidian, and said, “Hold on to the bloodstone, lass, with both yer hands. Don’t let go, no matter what. D’ye ken?”

“Aye, but . . .”

Una shushed her and motioned for her to do as she’d asked.

Without another word, Obsidian pulled the stone towards her and held on tight. The ember inside brightened and grew. She couldn’t wrest her eyes from it and was held fast within its crimson aura.

Una continued to focus and strengthen her power. As it flowed through the old wooden staff and into the flaming jewel, she probed the young acolyte, searching and digging . . . for the truth.

BLACK GROTTO Is Published on Amazon Around the World!

Published!

It happened more quickly than I thought it would, but you can now get your paperback or Kindle copy of my new fantasy novel, Black Grotto, from any Amazon site in the world. It's been a long journey, but a lot of fun! I hope you enjoy Black Grotto!

To learn more about the book, click here or on the Bob's Books tab at the top of my blog page.

BLACK GROTTO: Book Cover

Published Soon On Amazon Around The World!

If you'd like to read the first chapter, just click on the link below.

Chapter 1

BLACK GROTTO: Description & Chapter 1

BLACK GROTTO 

DESCRIPTION

Black Grotto takes place in Scotland and begins in the year AD 500 when a great Druid prophet named Erin travels with his scribe to a primordial and sacred cave high up in the Three Sisters. At the age of eighty, he is guided there by his dreams in order to finally reach the zenith of his prophecies.

The story then moves forward in time to AD 2022 where a young Druid named Bea Bauman is coming of age. It is a very special day and one where her mother and father finally share with her the true story of her birth.

What she learns that day completely changes her life, and she sets out alone on a long journey across the width and breadth of Scotland. Her wanderings are filled with danger, magic, and overpowering discoveries. They take her to ancient Druid places of power, places of raw and natural beauty, of history and lore, and introduce her to Anu Grenn and Willam Brodie - her unexpected mentors.

 But as all of this is happening, a Druid priestess named Brenna is secretly observing Bea. She is biding her time and preparing to connect with the earth’s darkest magic at just the right moment in order to bring the world to its knees. She pursues Bea and her destiny without mercy as the world lurches, unknowingly, at the edge of a cliff. The forces of light and darkness are in the balance… Which will it be?

If you'd like to read the first chapter of Black Grotto, you can do so by clicking the link below.

Chapter 1