email: tom@tomtownsend-toyland.com
Phone: 713-502-4377 3123 CR 2407 Rusk, TX 75785
By Tom Townsend | |
 Read the excerpt below |
Mystery; Elazandra has returned to her world and become Queen of Elves when the one-eyed wizard Grandolin leads an uprising which throws the world of Fairie into civil war. Elazandra's kingdom has no chance of survival without the help of Ryan, Ashlyn and Michael. They enter Fairie and at once find themselves running for their lives before the forces of the Dark Lords
Reading Level 7th grade and up.
Published by Royal Fireworks Press |
The Fall of the House of Aileron
"All is lost," cried Ringyar. the young captain of the
Elf Queen's Guard. On the battlements below him, the
last of his warriors began to break and run. Through a dozen jagged breaches in
the palace wall, the flames of
war rose against the night sky. Just after sunset, the Ores had set fire to most
of the city, and now clouds of stinking
smoke blotted out the stars.
He saw their weapons first, as firelight reflected off
polished steel. And then, silhouetted against the flames,
came legions of shadowy Ores, crouching, hairy creatures with curving fangs and
eyes which glowed red in the night.
Like a black tide, they poured into the royal courtyard, destroying all that
dared to stand before them. And
lurking among the shadows, Ringyar glimpsed other, stranger, and more terrible
creatures.
A battering ram, crudely fashioned from the gnarled
trunk of an ancient tree, was hauled into the courtyard.
So large was it that Ringyar guessed there must be fifty Ores straining to carry
it along. The stone floor shook
beneath him as they began smashing down the tower doors.
He could wait no longer. Leaving the high battlements,
he hurried inside where two guards stood
beside the entrance to the queen's chamber. "Her Majesty will leave through the
passage to the east wall," he told
them. "Give us cover, and then follow." They nodded grimly, and Ringyar forced
himself to hesitate just long
enough to knock.
"Enter," the queen's voice called from inside.
Ringyar pushed open the doors and rushed in. "Queen
Elazandra, we have failed. The battle here is lost."
He bowed slightly as she turned from the window to face
him. Her robe of glimmering green sparkled. The
graceful points of her ears rose above the delicate "half-crown," which she wore
for all but the most sacred
of ceremonies. It sat almost hidden now, in her pale blond hair, hair which more
closely matched the shade of a
summer moon than the deeper gold of her eyes.
So hard is it to believe, Ringyar thought,
that there could be even one truce of human blood in her veins.
Elazandra reached for the silver clasp which held her
robe. "1 have watched." she said. "Your warriors fought
well. Long will their songs be sung." She let the robe drop to the floor.
Beneath it she wore a short tunic of
green-dyed leather, laced in the front and held at the waist by a wide belt.
Soft boots reached her knees and a dagger
was strapped to her right thigh. From the window sill, she picked up a jeweled
sword and stood staring at it for a
moment.
That legendary sword, thought Ringyar.
Shaped of mertheil in the high forges of Loki. it had by some magic
passed from the great warrior Ewaunee, first to her human life mate in the world
of men and. then to Elazandra, her daughter, who had recovered it from that
world and used it to defeat one of the Dark Lords. So say the legends.
Legends; one must be so careful about believing in
legends. Something broke with a sharp crack on one
of the
lower floors. Ringyar hurried across the chamber and touched one special stone
on the wall. Unseen machinery
creaked, and a section of wall parted, exposing a narrow, spiraling staircase
which led into darkness.
From one of the lower floors came the sound of breaking
wood. Elazandra slung the sword across her
back and strode in long steps to the secret entrance. She hesitated there for
only a moment and looked back at the
royal chamber with its polished chairs and gilded bed.
"You shall return, My Queen," Ringyar said softly. "I
swear it on the sword of my father."
Elazandra shook her head. "Elves were never born to
rest in beds," she said and turned away.
The hidden stairway spiraled down—down to ground level
and then deep into the mountain below. For a while,
the sounds of battle still rang beyond the walls. When they faded to a deathly
silence, Elazandra stopped for a
moment. "It is over," she whispered.
The passage ended at a small round door, bolted with
rusted iron. Ringyar pressed his ear against it and listened
for a moment before forcing it open. "We must hurry," he said.
They stepped into the night where a dozen Elves sat
mounted on stocky ponies. "Half will come with us," he
ordered. "The rest of you wait for the other guards, and then follow."
Elazandra swung easily up onto the back of a dappled
unicorn which pranced in the darkness, snorting and
nervously throwing its horn to the right and left. With one hand, she gripped
its flowing mane. "Go, Shaundar,
to the ring," she whispered and then led the way into the forest.
A faint trail snaked its way down the face of a rocky
cliff into a valley where drifting mist clung to a small
stream. More explosions echoed behind them as the burning palace cast a deep
orange glow against the sky.
Elazandra urged her unicorn through the shallow water and then halted in a small
clearing on the other side.
"My Queen," Ringyar said nervously, as he reined his
pony beside her. "We dare not stop."
"There is one thing more I must do," she answered and
reached within the neck of her tunic to retrieve a blue
jewel which hung on a silver chain. With her eyes, she indicated a ring of gray
mushrooms which grew near the
edge of the stream.
Had Elazandra been anyone except the queen to which he
had sworn an oath of undying loyalty, Ringyar would
have done whatever was necessary to stop her. Now, he could only release a long
breath and say, "If you do this,
you may release an enemy on our world more dangerous than all the Ores which
evil ever hatched."
Elazandra slid off the unicorn's back. "I know," she
answered and walked to the Fairie Ring. A single tear
sparkled on her cheek and dropped onto the jewel as she knelt in the damp grass.
"Come to me, Ryan," she
whispered. "By all the lords of forest and field, I need
you now." Carefully, she placed the jewel in the center of the Fairie Ring.
Blinking red eyes glowed in the mists across the
stream. Others moved in the forest ahead. Ringyar drew
his sword. "My Queen," he called in a loud whisper. "Hurry, they are all around
us!"
Elazandra rose and mounted her unicorn. Her own weapon
whispered from its sheath, and blue fire danced
on its blade. "Good," she said, "for on this night—more than all others—I wish
to spill their blood."