Earth magic book one of.., p.1
Earth Magic: Book One of the Merlin's Gambit Trilogy, page 1
Earth Magic
THE MERLIN’S GAMBIT TRILOGY
BOOK ONE
TALLY PENDRAGON
Earth Magic
Book One
of the
Merlin’s Gambit
Trilogy
by
Tally Pendragon
Copyright © Tally Pendragon 2023.
ASIN: B0CM2GKPTG (Kindle ebook)
ISBN: 9798864239896 (Paperback)
ISBN: 9798864230114 (Hardcover)
The moral right of Tally Pendragon to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, copied, distributed or adapted in any way, with the exception of certain activities permitted by applicable copyright laws, such as brief quotations in the context of a review or academic work. For permission to publish, distribute or otherwise reproduce this work, please contact the author by email: GringoletPress@mac.com
This is entirely a work of fiction. All characters, organisations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Cover art by Ad Astra Book Covers
Created with Vellum
Acknowledgments
I was going to remain mysterious and aloof with my acknowledgements; you know, keep it brief and highly allusive… bit like this really:
All who deserve acknowledgement know exactly who they are and what they’ve done that they should be held in such high esteem, and I thank them all from the depths of my ever-expanding Source-full soul… especially those who taught me how to See with the eyes of my heart and Hear with the ears of my own inner eye. Thank you.
And then, I got to thinking about it and realised that those who have contributed so much and so positively to this very long-term project probably deserve more than five lines of anonymity. And where else am I ever going to be able to thank them all quite so publicly? That’s when I came up with the following and, as there’s never really any in-between ground with me, allusively sublime thus becomes effusively ridiculous… MUCH more fun, though.
Before I acknowledge actual people, there’s one thing I’d like to acknowledge first, or should I say Þing?
My friend Sue, with whom I spent many a school year, has been a most diligent proof-reader, tracking down errant and erroneous words, whether of the stray, typologically-challenged or just plain missing variety. Her diligence is no doubt down to the discipline of our English teacher at grammar school; we referred to her, in the time-honoured tradition of her previous students, as Mini Witch – and that was because we liked her! Our first text, at the tender age of eleven, was Beowulf; between these pages, into which you are about to dive, you will see the fruits of this miniscule witch’s ability to teach, but the real teacher was the language itself: the words. My love of all Þings Anglo-Saxon, instilled in me from a very early age as the daughter of a Classics teacher who was also an Anglo-Saxon archaeologist, factored greatly, but it was because of the words, particularly the mysterious characters in which our English language used to be written – the eth: ð Ð and the thorn: þ Þ – that used to fly off the pages of Sweet’s Anglo-Saxon Primer and fascinate me so much that I myself ended up teaching on Beowulf. It wasn’t until Sue pointed out to me a thing to which she, unlike me, had assiduously listened in our English lessons and to which she had dutifully adhered ever since – namely that we should never use the word thing unless we absolutely could not find another one that would do the job – that I even noticed how much Merlin’s Þingness had permeated my subconscious. Of course, when I did, I Thought into the Þingness of it myself and couldn’t quite believe how I’d missed the blindingly obvious: that Þingness or, more precisely, the word Þing is about as Anglo-Saxon as it gets and kicked myself for not noticing sooner. That’s when I recognised Þingness for the unique and very magical character it had become, that the word thing really would not be denied another moment’s existence in its own right, and set about changing all of Merlin’s things and thingnesses into Þings and Þingnesses. Only Merlin’s, though; no one else’s! And I’ve only used the capital form of the thorn; any more would just have been too complicated… unless, of course, I get enough requests to translate the whole book into what we refer to these days as Old English or should I say Ænglisċ. It’s given me great pleasure to rediscover the modern word thing so consciously and to let this Anglo-Saxon Ænglisċ teacher part of me out to play again in the following pages; I only hope it’s as enjoyable for all of you who are about to read them. So… thanks, Sue, for making such a thing out of the thingness of things that I was able to turn them into these visibly amazing Þings and Þingnesses… I know how much it went against the grammar school grain.
And now…
My thanks to: Pa for being on Terra long enough to continue giving me the confidence to use my own voice and to tell the stories I have inside me in my very own style, and for so masterfully re-conjugating my less-than-perfect Latin – long may all that continue; Paddy for that first copy of Sweet’s Primer; Sarah for always having facilitated from the wings of all my literary endeavours – Mum & Dad, too; Peter for always believing in the historian within me, for introducing me to The Boss, aka Charlemagne, and for giving me the permission to Look for more and follow what my heart Sees; Richard for liberating the joy of Ænglisċ within me and enabling me to actually read and Know it; Denise for reading everything I’ve ever written, and especially for having enjoyed it all enough to tell me so; Simon for the kick up the backside that this particular endeavour needed to get it started and well on its way; Annie for being that giant upon whose literary shoulders I am proud to stand, and for her own books, without which this one may well never have been written; Natasha for listening to every version of each chapter far above and beyond the call of duty, and for appreciating without ever once directing; Bronwen for her wonderful youthful exuberance, for her amazing interpretation of the Beriġean-and-Ream dance, and for out-stonishing even Percy Jackson; Catie for inspiring the characters yet to be revealed in Book Two in her equal enthusiasm for this same demi-god boy wonder; Jay and Chris for ideas sparked into being on Santorini, and of which they’re probably not even fully aware yet; Lewis for prompting the idea to write the Sovereignty Gang into their very own SuperHero-and-Heroine comic book series… eventually, like when Book Two also has a Book Three to sit alongside it on the shelf. And, finally, to all my friends and family in Higher Dimensions, many of whom you, my readers, will meet in The Grove, but particularly to Charlie, Scintilla, and these guys, all of whom are sending you the following message:
Love, Light and Freedom to ALL, from the Sovereignty Gang, and, of course, from me, Tally
Mildenhall, November 2023
Contents
Prologue
I. Glastonbury Seeds
1. The Boys & The Press Conference
AD 2018, September 5th, Wednesday
2. Merlin on the Road in Italy
AD 525, September 17th, Monday, Harvest Moon
3. An Evening of Magic
AD 2018, September 5th, Wednesday Evening
4. Merlin Meets a Friend
AD 525, September 17th, Monday, Harvest Moon
5. … And now for the Real Magic
AD 2018, September 5th, Later That Evening
Home Again?
On Glastonbury Tor
The Grove
Back at the Tor
The Demesne & The Pool of Truth
Back in The Grove
Morgan le Fae Speaks
The Emperor Known as Charlemagne
The Voices of Many Crying Out!
The Saintly Bernard
The Sovereignty Gang
The Pavilion
An Old Friend and a Familiar Sword
THE CELEBRATION…
… and a Very Happy Ending!
Back in Her Glastonbury Above
6. Merlin Learns the Truth
AD 525, September 17th, Monday, Harvest Moon
7. The Meeting in the Brothers’ Library
AD 2018, September 6th, Thursday
8. Merlin Learns of a Secret Society
AD 525, September 17th, Monday, Harvest Moon
9. In the Studio Afterwards
AD 2018, September 6th, Thursday
10. ... And of The Secret Never to be Told
AD 525, September 17th, Monday, Harvest Moon
II. Bristol and Back Again
11. Whiteladies Road & The Enchanted Tea Rooms
AD 2018, September 7th, Friday, Lunchtime
Vanda’s Meeting With Her Mentor
The Enchanted Tea Room
The Bookshop
What Lies Beneath?
12. Merlin Meets a Prince and a Scientist
AD 1876, November 2nd, Thursday, Late Afternoon, Hunter’s Moon
13. Laughter Really is the Best Medicine
AD 2018, September 7th, Friday, Mid-Afternoon, 2:30-ish
14. A Welcoming Screech in the Absence of Knowing
AD 1876, November 2nd of, Thursday, High Tea-time, Hunter’s Moon
15. Bewitched in the Post Office
AD 2018, September 7th, Friday, Late Afternoon, 3:30-ish
16. Of Things Sublime and Senseless
AD 1876, November 2nd, Thursday, After Dark, Hunter’s Moon
17. Unravelling the Ravel
AD 2018, September 7th, Friday, Late-Afternoon, 4:00-ish
18. How Many Jesuses, Marys and Johns?
AD 1876, November 2nd, Thursday, Early Evening, Hunter’s Moon
19. Legacies Revealed
AD 2018, 7th of September, Friday, Late-Afternoon, about 5-ish
20. Of Visions and Kings and Legendary Things
AD 1876, November 2nd, Thursday, Nearing Mid-Evening, Hunter’s Moon
III. A Journey of Discovery
21. Whatever Happened There, Then?
AD 2018, September 7th, Friday Evening, Around 6 PM
22. The Chalice Well… and a Little More Marjorie Manipulation?
Shortly Before Sunset
23. The Oval Table Presents…
Also Shortly Before Sunset
24. Marchmellows, Stolen Stoles and Mistakes
Sunset
25. Beriġean-and-Ream
Still Sunset
26. Dragon Queens & Grail Kings… Where did it all go Wrong?
Yep, Still Sunset! It’s a Dimensional Thing
27. … And How Will it All Turn out Right Again?
… Sunset
28. The Mysteries of the Crystal Village
Sunset Bleeding into Twilight
29. The Secrets of the Underground Cavern
Twilight Deepening
30. Tea & More Beriġean-and-Ream
After Dark
31. The Plan
Well After Dark!
32. The Artefact
Even Darker
33. In the Time of Greatest Need
AD 2018, September 8th, After Sunrise
Epilogue
Prologue
AD 456, JUNE 21ST, STRAWBERRY MOON
THE LITTLE BOY ON THE HILL
Asix-year-old boy called Myrddin Emrys sits on a hillside known locally as The Tor. The Hill, as it’s known to the Little People, who live within, and to the boy himself as Tor Anda, is a terraced expanse of luscious green grass, kept short by the many wild animals of the forest that graze there each day. The locals, who call it The Tor, are unaware of the magic that is within and without; they tend to skirt it rather than go over, and those who do are apt to take longer and lose the memory of having done so.
The animals of the forest are grazing there now as the boy sits, talking to them in a language only he and the animals can understand. He’s trailing his long, pliant fingers through the clear water trickling from the little spring halfway up the hill. It disappears again as fast as it appears, not three feet away from its point of emergence, on the other side of a small dip filled with rough shingle. From where it comes and to where it goes on its subterranean journey is a mystery best left for another day and for the Little People to reveal. But on this day, the boy spies something shiny and bronze sitting on top of the little stones. It’s a key; he can see that. But what all those intricately cast little bees are doing winding their way along its shaft, sparkling in the sunshine as the water trickles over them, he doesn’t know. As with the magpie, the raven and the crow, he likes shiny objects, and puts this one securely in the pocket of his robe to look at later and ponder over.
At The Tor’s summit, something beats… slowly and noisily. The boy looks up and waves his dripping fingers in the air; crystal rainbow drops fly from their tips into the sun in two arcs as his hands cross over his head. A large, brightly shining peachy-pink dragon, the colour of the rising sun, with iridescent gold flecks that sparkle like sunlight on the water, rises out of the top of The Tor and looks down at the boy. He smiles back as he wonders – and not for the first time – how she got here from her home in a constellation called the Pleiades far, far away, and so very long ago. What he does know – from the Little People – is that her name is Solarion and that she was sent here to guard the Isle of Britain… to maintain the sovereign equilibrium of the realm. How had they put it? She’s here to orchestrate our salvation in the time of greatest need.
As she soars into a perfect blue sky, the dragon separates herself and becomes two smaller dragons, one red, the other white; one flies to the East, the other to the West. The boy bats not an eyelid… as if he’s very familiar with this custom.
This is his cue… for there is something of equal importance that he must also do here at the top of The Tor. He does it every year, although he does not really know why. He just knows that it has something to do with the sovereignty of the people within the realm and that he must always be here each year at the right time… at the fullest point of the Strawberry Moon.
He begins to climb to the top of the windswept tor, to the secret place at the very centre of this fair Isle, from whence the majestic peachy-pink dragon has just emerged to embark upon her midday ritual.
He arrives at the summit with only moments to spare. He looks up, raising his arms and face up to the sky above... not towards the sun, nor to the East or West where the red and white dragons have gone. No! He’s raising them in another direction. He’s looking towards the position in the sky where he imagines the moon would be had it yet risen.
It is 12:24 post meridian, and the moon, having now waxed to its fullest, if unseen point somewhere in the heavens, will wane from here on.
He smiles.
“Until next year, Strawberry Moon,” he says, this time in a language only the Little People would understand were they there. “The sovereignty of the people is protected for another year.”
But as he does so, a strange buzzing noise starts up. It makes him look closer at The Tor around him… until he realises that the noise is between his ears and not outside them, that is. A wind stirs, and an anomalous shiny, rippling field of energy the size of a door, only round, appears out of nowhere in the air in front of him. The noise gets louder, the wind stronger, and he is being pulled through the shiny, round door, only to find himself in exactly the same place where he had been sitting with the animals not half an hour since, and Solarion is rising majestically out of The Tor… again!
It’s as if he’s somehow slipped through time and got behind himself. He blinks and laughs. He’s used to the strangeness of Tor Anda’s magic.
He’s used to the tricks the Little People play on him. They came up less and less each year. This year, with the moon’s fullness being delivered so close to midday, there was very little chance they would be seen at all. They would have been there above ground at sunrise, he knew, to dance in the magical dawn of the solstice sun. He would have liked to have been there too, but it was of no real matter. Matters of more importance connected them besides inhabiting one temporal space with one another at the same time. The boy had left presents for them only they would appreciate, in places only they would think to look. It was just one of their little games. It made him smile, as did all things to do with all the creatures he counted as friends here on Tor Anda, where the old magics still ran so deep.
But this magic felt different. It didn’t feel like anything the Little People had ever done with him.
This magic felt like his own!
Every year, his mother, Vivienne, brought her magical son here, doing as she was bid by those who knew more about these things than did she. Her sister, the incumbent Lady of the Lake, had told her how his magic would work. She hadn’t understood a word as her sister had enthusiastically explained how it was forged from the two most ancient magics of the earth. The flowing gestures of the Lady’s hands had been lost on Vivienne as she’d tirelessly illustrated how the subterranean telluric currents and mycorrhizal networks of the earth would unite with the light of the silvery moon and how Myrddin Emrys’ magic would be set in motion by the blessings of the seven most glorious stars in the heavens. The only part she’d really taken to heart, and which made her anxious and eager to keep him close beside her at all times, was how his magic would one day be so powerful that even he should be chary of it until full-grown into his wisdom.
