Giveaway ends August 19, 2021.
See the giveaway details at Goodreads.
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| Carl Sagan |
Below is a prophetic quote from Carl Sagan in 1996.
“I have a foreboding of an America in my children’s or grandchildren’s time – when the United States is a service and information economy; when nearly all the manufacturing industries have slipped away to other countries; when awesome technological powers are in the hands of a very few, and no one representing the public interest can even grasp the issues; when the people have lost the ability to set their own agendas or knowledgeably question those in authority; when, clutching our crystals and nervously consulting our horoscopes, our critical faculties in decline, unable to distinguish between what feels good and what’s true, we slide, almost without noticing, back into superstition and darkness…
The dumbing down of America is most evident in the slow decay of substantive content in the enormously influential media, the 30 second sound bites (now down to 10 seconds or less), lowest common denominator programming, credulous presentations on pseudoscience and superstition, but especially a kind of celebration of ignorance.”
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?
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| Seamus Heaney |
Seamus Heaney is one of my favorite Irish poets. He won the Nobel prize in 1995, "for works of lyrical beauty and ethical depth, which exalt everyday miracles and the living past."
Here are two of his famous quotes.
"The main thing is to write for the joy of it. Cultivate a work-lust that imagines its haven like your hands at night dreaming the sun in the sunspot of a breast. You are fasted now, light-headed, dangerous. Take off from here."
"Strange is the huge nothing that we fear!"
The Vortex: Book III of the Alban Saga
I promised myself and you in my last blog entry that I would get back to work after my episode with "writer's block". I have, and I've been working on Chapter 6. I wanted to provide you with a short excerpt from the beginning of that chapter. If you've read the other books in the Alban Saga, you'll recognize the characters and the setting.
Bea raised up on one elbow, lulled by the soft, morning sounds within the darkened chamber. Attempting to clear the sleep from her eyes, she rubbed them and then gazed in the direction of Erin’s bedroll. There was just enough light from the coals of last night’s fire to see that he had not yet returned.
“Damn . . .” she muttered to herself.
It had been three days since the prophet had entered the adjoining chamber – the Black Grotto. He’d been there meditating and searching for Aran and had promised Bea that he could locate him quickly and reunite the two of them. However, it was clearly more of a problem than he’d thought it would be. She made up her mind that if he wasn’t back within the next hour or two, she’d go in after him, whether he wanted her to or not.
Sitting up the rest of the way, Bea threw her blanket off and reached for the clothes that Erin had brought for her. She put them on and quickly re-braided her disheveled hair, pulled on a stocking cap, and crawled over to the fire ring. The main chamber of the cave was chilly and damp. Grabbing a small amount of tinder, some kindling, and a block of peat, she used those items, along with the remaining coals, to restart the fire. She heated up some water for tea and took some scones and cheese out of the food bag that Erin had brought. She was starving.
Drinking her tea and eating, she kept listening for Erin, hoping that he would emerge at any moment, but the only sounds that caught her ear were the crackling of the newly lit fire and the hushed, slow susurration of the water, constantly flowing over the obsidian crystals that lay at the entrance between the Black Grotto and the larger pool within the Cave of Dreams. Gazing at those dark, gleaming crystals, she realized that Erin must also be awake. She could see the light of his fire reflected in them.
Bea finished her food and tea, rinsed her cup in the bubbling, hot water, and decided she could wait no longer. She moved around the edge of the pool and was about to step into it to enter the Black Grotto when she suddenly noticed Erin’s head peeking out of the opening within the rock wall.
“What ye up to, lass?” he queried.
“I was just about to come in and check on ye. It’s been three days, Erin!”
“Wait there. I’ll be out in a minute.”
Bea returned to the fire and sat down. It wasn’t long before Erin exited the passageway, made his way across the Reckoning Pool, and stepped out onto the flat rocks near his bedroll. He laid his bag of supplies and what was left of the food that he’d taken with him onto his blanket. Then he shook off as much of the water as he could from his dripping clothes, sat down beside Bea, and cozied up to the warmth of the peat fire.
“Glad ye have the fire goin’, lass. There’s a bit o’ breeze comin’ in the cave this mornin’, aye?”
Bea gave Erin a slight smile and a nod as she answered, “Aye…” Then she couldn’t wait any longer and asked, “So . . . did ye learn anything? Do ye know where Aran is?” From the look on his face and his slight hesitation, she could tell immediately that he had no idea of Aran’s whereabouts. Obviously disappointed, she said, “Ye didn’t learn a thing after all that time?”
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| Dosewallip River in the Olympic National Park |
