The Fairy’s Child Read Excerpt The Fairy’s Child is the first book in a historical fantasy series based on Celtic and Norse legends. When their land and the source of their power is threatened, the fairy race of Uvaine decide to conceive a child that is half Sidhe and half human, in the hope that this offspring will someday defeat their enemies and save their kind.  Young Iolar, born of a fairy mother but raised by humans, grows up lonely and confused.  Before he can discover who he is and the destiny he was born for, he is torn from his homeland and take across the sea to Venedol.  There he will meet the magical race the Tywynuu and be forced to choose between the power they offer and the love and companionship his human blood yearns for.

Chapter 1

       Fand’s small hooves stepped lightly among the moss and new grass blanketing the forest floor.  She moved with even more caution than usual, unsettled as she was by the queen’s summons.  What did Eiru want?  Why had she called a gathering?  Despite her anxiety, a part of her was relieved to be included.  She wasn’t often considered important enough to be consulted in Sidhe decisions.

       As Fand walked, she saw signs of others of her kind.  A scattering of hawthorn petals and the sweet scent of wood violets indicated Cliantha had traveled this way, while farther on, fallen leaves, patches of dried grass and a sudden chill showed Fomhar’s passage. 

        Sidhe felt a stab of resentment and envy.  Like Eiru, these Sidhe possessed the power of the turning seasons.  Her essence was much weaker. 

        The undergrowth grew thicker, a wild tangle of hazel and thorn.  As a deer, she passed through it easily. 

        As she neared the ancient oak grove, she altered her essence to the shape of a woman.  The other Sidhe would also have also taken on this form.  Indeed, she could see the queen through the trees, her skin pale and bluish and her long silvery hair draped around her body like sparkling ice crystals.  To one side of Eiru stood Cliantha, glowing with delicate rainbow hues, while nearby, Banba gave off bluish-purple darkness.

         Fand crept forward to join the lesser Sidhe, her own dun and brown essence blending with their subtle shades of green, russet, berry red and mushroom gray.  She’d barely reached her place when Eiru spoke, her voice as harsh as a winter wind sweeping through the boughs, “I’ve called you here because we face the greatest threat our kind has ever known.  If something isn’t done, Uvaine will be destroyed and we will perish.”

          Eiru’s words frightened Fand, yet she wasn’t surprised by the queen’s dire warning.  Over the past seasons, terrible things had happened in the forest.  The humans attacked the trees with their hated iron weapons, felling them and dragging them away.  They slaughtered the animals:  boar and fox, wildcat and hare, and great numbers of deer.  Their murderous practices especially horrified Fand, connected as she was to the woodland creatures.

         “It’s been many years since the humans arrived in this land,” Eiru continued.  “When the first ones came, we forced them to strike a bargain.  They were allowed the open meadows, hills and lakes, while we kept to the marshes, mountain peaks and deep forest.  But these new invaders have no respect for the agreement.  They ravage even the places that belong to us.  They’ve become a danger to our very existence.”

        Fand felt her essence swell with anger.  The other Sidhe also responded with outrage.  Fomhar spoke, her voice as bitter as berries that have shriveled on the vine. “We must kill the humans when they venture into our territory.  They’re stupid and easily tricked.  It wouldn’t be difficult.”

        Eriu shook her head.  “There are too many of them.  We could never kill enough to make a difference.” 

        “Then what’s the answer?” Banba asked.  “This land belongs to us.  Its spirit lives in each

of us.  If it perishes, we’ll all die.”  The ancient Sidhe’s dusky countenance grew darker still. 

        “Not all the humans are the same,” said Eiru.  “The ones who came first, those who made peace with us, they understand that if they destroy the wild places and cut down the forests, they’ll eventually perish along with us.  But those who’ve arrived recently--they’ve never shown us proper respect.  Nor do they understand the importance of caring for the land.”

        “Perhaps that’s answer,” suggested Tailtu.  “We only kill the new ones, the evil ones.”  As to demonstrate how this might be done, her green hair began to grow until it surrounded her body like choking, wild vine. 

        “There are still too many,” retorted Cliodna.  “And more arriving every sunseason.”

        “Then we’ll die.  They’ll destroy the wild places little by little, and our spirits will wither and fade until we are no more.”  As Formor spoke the despairing words, Fand could almost feel her own essence weakening. 

        “That doesn’t have to happen,” insisted Eiru.  “I’ve thought of a way to save this land, and ourselves.”

         “What?”

         “What shall we do?” 

         “Tell us.”

         They all drew near to Eiru, waiting for her to answer.  Even Fand, who usually avoided the elder Sidhe, edged closer. 

         Eiru spoke slowly: “I’ve traveled near to the settlements of the invaders.  It’s easy for me to get close to them.  They mistake me for a cold draught seeping through a chink in the wall or a chill rising up from the frozen earth.  They shiver and huddle closer to the hearth, but otherwise take no notice of me.  Although I don’t understand their language well, I can grasp much of what they say.  I’ve learned that the humans who’ve been here for many generations despise and fear the ones who’ve arrived recently.  They worry the newcomers will take over the territories they’ve claimed, and they often discuss how they can defeat the recent invaders and drive them from the island.”

         “What has this to do with us?” asked Fomhar.  Her ruddy countenance flushed with impatience. “Why should we care about their petty concerns?”

        “Because,” said Eiru, “if we could help the humans who respect us defeat the newcomers, we might be able to save this land, and our ourselves.”

         “But how?”  Banba motioned, sending shadows rippling through grove.  “How can we help them?”

         “There’s no other answer,” said Eiru, “We must share out power with them.  To do that, one of us must mate with one of their kind.  The offspring produced will be half Sidhe and possess some our magic.”

         “Mate?”  Banba’s voice came out in a shriek.  “You mean one of us would share our essence with some ugly, disgusting human?”  

         Fand shared the other Sidhe’s revulsion.  She could scarce think of anything more repellant  than being close to a human male. 

         Eiru gestured disdainfully.  “It’s a grim task.  But it must be done.  The invaders are mostly substance; they possess little spirit.  The only way to have offspring with them is a physical joining.”

        Many of the Sidhe exchanged horrified glances.  But golden Cliodna spoke out boldly.  “But even if one of us does this thing, how will it aid us?” 

        Eiru raised her glistening brows.  “Can you imagine what a human imbued with our power would be like?   He would possess their strong physical essence, yet also the gifts of our kind.  He would be a leader unlike any their frail, insipid race has never known.  Because he would be connected to the land, to all of us, we would be able to help him fight this battle with the newcomers and drive them back into the sea.” 

       “He?  He?”  Fomhar’s voice rose in outrage.  “You mean to say this offspring would be male?”  She glanced at the male Sidhe gathered in the grove.  None of them had made a sound.  They all knew that their opinions were insignificant. 

        “Aye, the offspring must be male,” said Eiru.  “That’s another difference between our kind and theirs.  Even as none of us would accept a male leader, the humans only respect male authority.  It’s very strange, but it’s the way of their race.  In order for this offspring to wield power in the invaders’ world, it must be male.”

        “In some ways it seems preferable that the offspring is male,” Tailtu suggested.  “For then we’ll know this creature’s abilities will be limited, and his essence too weak to ever be turned against us.  But I have another question.  The invaders fight with iron weapons, so how would this half-Sidhe being ever lead them into battle?” 

        At the mention of iron, the Sidhe exchanged looks of revulsion.  The substance the humans used for weapons and tools was poison to their kind.  It not only sapped their power and weakened their spirits, but caused terrible pain.  Indeed, iron was the main reason the first humans had been able to get the Sidhe to relinquish part of their domain.         

        “It’s a concern,” said Eiru.  “But I’m hoping because this offspring will possess human blood, he’ll be able to tolerate iron.”

        No one spoke for a time, then Banba said, “What you propose seems like a great sacrifice on our part.  And there’s no certainty it will work.  We’ve always been careful to stay away from the humans.  Now you suggest one of us should mate with them and create this hybrid creature, this abomination…”

        “Have you another plan?” asked Eiru.  She looked around the gathering, her gaze chilling each of them.   “Do any of you have a better idea?”

         No one spoke for a time.  Then Tailtu asked, “Who among us will be the one to mate with a human?”

         “I won’t do it,” said Banba.  “My hatred for their kind is too great.  I would end up choking the one chosen with my darkness.”

        “Aye,” Eiru agreed.  “Most of us elder Sidhe are too powerful.  If we sought to join with a human, we would consume them.”

         “It must be someone with a young essence,” mused Fomhar.  “Someone whose powers are just developing.”   

         “Aye,” said Eiru.  “And it would be helpful if they already had an essence with strong ties to the physical realm.”

         Her gaze sought out Fand.  Sensing the implication of the queen’s words, Fand gave a horrified gasp. “Nay!  I couldn’t do such a thing.  I abhor the humans too greatly.  I could never endure having one of them near me!”

         “But it’s your duty,” said Banba.

         “And we wouldn’t expect you to do this alone,” Cliodna added soothingly.  “We would all remain nearby.  You would be surrounded by our power at all times.” 

         Fand felt trapped, like a doe surrounded by a pack of the dogs the humans used to bring down their prey.  Desperation strengthened her will.  She called on the part of herself that was imbued with the potent essence of a stag in rut.  “If I do this thing…”  She glared at the other Sidhe.  “If I accomplish what you ask, then what is my reward?  In everything there must be a balance.  For what is given, something must be gained.” 

        Eiru nodded slowly.  “You are right to demand something in return for your sacrifice.  As payment, we will all give you a small portion of our power.”

       There were vague mutterings among the elder Sidhe.  It was Fomhar who spoke.  “Is that wise?  What if our sharing power with her…”  She fixed Fand with a condescending look.  “…what if it upsets the natural order?  What if in trying to maintain balance, we destroy it?”

        “The risk must be taken,” said Eiru.  “There are grave dangers in what we’re doing anyway.  We can’t know for certain this plan will succeed.  And yet, I believe we must attempt it.”   She paused and her glowing essence appeared to grow taller, until she resembled a majestic pine tree covered in frost.  “We’ve dwelled in Uvaine for as many years as there are leaves on the greatest oak in the forest.  We’ll not give up the land, our lifeblood, without a fight.”

       Despite her resentment of Eiru and the others, Fand felt determination flare within her.   She would do her part—if the other Sidhe did theirs.  “When must I do this thing?” she asked.  “Have you chosen the invader with whom I must mate?”

        “Nay.  That is for you to decide,” answered Eiru.

         “How can we trust her?” Banba spoke in scornful tones.  “She’s so young, and her powers so limited.” 

        Fand glared at the dark Sidhe, feeling the fierce resentment inside her grow and swell.  Before she could respond, the Queen raised her arms and fixed the gathering with a cold stare.  “There will be no more discussion.  I’ve decided what must be done, and you will all obey.”

       Faced with Eiru’s harsh command, the other Sidhe became subdued, and their colors faded.  

       The Queen spoke again.  “Before we leave this place, we will—all of us—bestow upon Fand a portion of our power.  After that, it’s up to her to carry out this thing.  When it’s done, we will meet again.”

       Eiru reached out to Fand, and Fand felt a bit of the Queen’s essence mingling with hers.  It was a strange sensation, slightly painful and yet exhilarating, as if the violent force of the winter wind swept through her body.  As the other Sidhe approached Fand and touched her, she experienced hints of their essences:   the warmth of the sun, the rush of running water, the rich, earthy scent of leaves and vines, the sweet and bitter scents of flowers and berries, mosses and fungi.   Fand absorbed them into herself, feeding her own animal essence:  blood, sinew and muscle, hoof, antler and claw.