Free The Phantom Queen Awakes by Mark S. Deniz Page A

wanted to
share with readers, and I hope you all enjoy it.
     
     
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    Biography
     
    Ye olde author likes the weird and the
strange, which explains most of her friends. Married, with two
daughters, she has earned a B.A. in Literature and a B.S. in
Criminal Justice. Her interests include gardening, herbalism,
mythology and fairy tales, theology, everything Celtic,
role-playing games, horror movies, and the martial arts. She lives
with her husband, her younger daughter, five cats, a dog, and a
houseful of gargoyles somewhere near Chicago.
     
     
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    Sharon Kae
Reamer
    The Raven's Curse

    Lys ab Gysell felt she had sat on a bumpy
horse her entire life. After three weeks of riding along dry paths,
she felt cloaked with the dust of high summer. It invaded every
orifice and her hair and clothes were layered in grit. As some of
her entourage and all the slaves traveled by foot, they had been
forced to ride at a slow pace. They followed the trail north along
the coast before turning inland to the estuary near the walled
settlement that belonged to her husband-to-be and his people. The
briny sea air assaulted her nostrils as they approached a small
bay. She spied standing stones in the distance.
    “What is that place?” she asked her escort.
The individual dialects varied widely, but their respective tongues
had enough in common that they could communicate.
    “The ar-men-hir of Karnag,” he
answered. “The spirits of ancient heroes buried under the stones
guard the mor-bihan ― the bay ― against
invaders.”
    As they made the turn inland, she heard them
before seeing them. On the hilltop in front of her, naked, painted
men danced and brandished their iron-tipped spears. They welcomed
her with loud blasts from long horns in the shape of pig snouts.
Various sized dogs ran to and fro, barking wildly. She laughed with
joy to see the men with their limed hair sticking up like
frost-rimed sedges. She imagined that to an enemy, their demeanor
would be altogether different and a frightening sight. In this
case, it was a regal greeting. Fit for a queen.
    Even before they entered the village, people
lined the way on either side of her, eager to have a glimpse of
her. She let her entourage lead her horse to where a tall man in a
richly patterned tunic waited, surrounded by other noblemen. She
knew instinctively it was her future husband. Unable to keep her
eyes from him as one of his men helped her from her horse, she felt
a smile form.
    The rumors traded by the older women in her
tribe were now confirmed. Iaun Reith was a handsome man, indeed.
His loosely belted tunic did not hide a trim and muscular body that
contrasted nicely with his thick mane of dark hair and a well cared
for bushy mustache. He wore an astonishingly beautiful gold torc
around his neck. Her folk had received hints of Veneti wealth ―
acquired through battle gains and shrewd trading ― but Lys was in
awe at the abundance of gold on the noblemen who surrounded their
leader.

She could have done much worse, she thought,
and hoped she would please him as well. She approached and knelt
before him. His golden brown eyes sparkled like topaz as he held
out his hands to her, and she rose to stand next to him. His
answering smile as the throng of people cheered in front of them
told her all she needed to know.
     
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    The joining of hands had been timed to
coincide with the summer solstice. Two days before the fête, Iaun
led her to the hut near the forest where the holy women of his
tribe dwelled. Holy women were known to Lys, but her own people had
none, so she was anxious about meeting them. Iaun explained that
their approval of the match was a formality, but a necessary
one.
    “Why do I have to spend the night here?” she
asked as they approached the two young women waiting patiently near
the entrance to the woods.
    “It’s a necessary ritual. To make sure that we
are fruitful,” he said. “The holy women’s blessing will fortify