Author Debra Killeen

In desperate times, heroes come forward who are willing to do whatever is needed to set things right without regard to the cost to themselves, even if it means paying the ultimate price.

2011 Honorable Mention winner in the ReaderViews Literary Awards for Fantasy

To purchase

Amazon

http://www.amazon.com/Priestess-Awakening-Debra-Killeen/dp/0984139729/ref=sr_1_6?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1275578973&sr=1-6

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Excerpt: 

          A spiritual journey reached completion in Laurconsburg Castle, the royal seat of the monarchs of Wyckendom, Myrridia’s western neighbor. Preparations for a major Working were being completed in the castle’s Magical workroom one evening as a snowstorm raged without the castle. The chaplain, Father Gilbert, had been ordered to bed, the command enforced with poppy juice added to his wine at supper.

            Three people were present in the chamber. The King of Wyckendom, Nicholas Severinson, watched as two former acolytes of Aldric Smithson finished readying the chamber. His wife, Isabella, would have attended, but Nicholas didn’t want her exposed to powerful Magic since she was well along in pregnancy. Gervaise, a thirty-year-old defrocked priest, had removed all Christian symbolism from the room. Elayne, a red-haired woman of similar age to Gervaise, had draped a black silk cloth over the altar and lit four black candles, which now sat at the altar top’s four corners. All three wore black wool robes. Elayne’s robe had a blood red lining since she would be directing the Working. Before setting up the altar, she had gone into trance to wipe away all evidence of the Magic that was normally used in the room.

            The gathering was at Nicholas’s suggestion. Though the king lacked Magical gifts, he had no shortage of ideas. He’d learned from Isabella, a princess of Esterlyn and Juliana’s elder sister, that Cecelia Falkes, a gifted Wyckendom practitioner and, unknown to the others, his first wife, had taken her own life after suffering defeat in a Magical Duel with Allyson Claybourne. Juliana had attended the Duel and had reported dutifully to her father what had occurred. Nicholas had discussed Cecelia’s death with Elayne and Gervaise a few weeks prior and had asked if it were possible to bring back her spirit, using another practitioner to serve as a “vessel.”

            Elayne had expressed uncertainty, but her blue eyes had gleamed with enthusiasm. “Kieran would make an excellent vessel,” she’d stated. “What he lacks in ability, he makes up for in knowledge of Dark ritual.” Kieran was some years Elayne’s junior and had also served Aldric, though he had often acted as a voice of caution. “His superior knowledge is the only reason I have pretended to repent of my former zealous support of Aldric and his plans.” Her smile was contemptuous. “It has been extremely boring,” she added in complaint.

            Nicholas had smiled coldly in return. “Aye. I knew giving the pathetic lout sanctuary here would prove to be a good decision one of these days.” He shrugged. “If the summoning should fail, what is the worst that could happen? Kieran dies? That would be no great loss.”

            “Aye,” Elayne replied.

Now, she, Gervaise and Nicholas waited for Kieran’s arrival. Less than a quarter hour  after they’d finished their preparations, he entered the chamber, his expression wary. Another Aldric acolyte, Thaddeus, a man of fifty-odd years, immediately followed him into the room.

            Kieran stopped just inside the workroom. He felt a sudden chill and an air of malice. He took in their garb, then turned to face Thaddeus, who now donned a black robe over his clothing. Kieran’s heart skipped a beat. He faced Elayne again, hands on hips.

“What are you planning, Elayne, and why is His Majesty here?”

            Elayne’s eyes widened in feigned innocence. “Honestly, Kieran, you are too suspicious.  Gervaise and I hope to bring Aldric back. Thaddeus has agreed to serve as a vessel, but I wanted you nearby in case we ran into difficulty,” she lied. “’Twas the king’s suggestion; he is here out of courtesy.”

            Kieran had paled at her words and missed the dishonesty behind them. “’Tis too dangerous, Elayne,” he argued. “Aldric’s soul perished. And even if you could summon him back, his power would likely overwhelm Thaddeus.”

            “I am willing to take that risk,” Thaddeus said.    

            Elayne crossed her arms. “Have you no wish to see Aldric again, Kieran?” she asked. “Have you turned traitor to him, like Guy?”

            Kieran scowled. “That is not what I said. Have you even thought this through? Recalling a spirit from death is extremely perilous, and it has never been done successfully.” He gestured toward Nicholas. “Will he be with us in Circle?” She nodded. “You do know we could all perish if you fail.”

            Nicholas looked concerned for a moment, then he shook his head. “Nay, I think you will succeed.” He smiled. “Aldric will prove a boon to my plans.”

            Kieran was unconvinced. “This is a terrible idea. I will not be a party to it.” He took a step toward the door.

            Thaddeus moved in front of him. “Your knowledge of ritual is necessary,” Gervaise said. “Just in case.”

Kieran looked at each one in turn. He’d never make it past all of them. He swallowed.

            “There is no need to fear failure, Kieran,” Elayne said. She turned to Gervaise. “Summon  protection.” She knelt before the altar, to pray to her master as she slipped into trance.

            Gervaise lifted his arms in supplication. “Master, we summon thy minions – Ahriman, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Moloch – to aid us in this summoning to further thy Dark purpose.”  As he spoke, Thaddeus began to walk in a counter-clockwise circle that would encompass the small chamber. Nicholas watched in fascination, unable to see the four demonic guardians that appeared in each quadrant of the Circle. Kieran moved to step out of the Circle before Thaddeus had completed it, but Nicholas grasped him by the arm, his grip painful.

            “What?” Kieran protested. His heart was pounding and he felt sick to his stomach. He suddenly wanted out at any cost. “Let go,” he ordered, surprising himself and Nicholas. He began to lift his other hand in a gesture of Power.

            Nicholas backhanded him, to prevent whatever Kieran hoped to summon and for speaking to him in such a tone. Kieran faltered and would have fallen except for Nicholas’s continued grip on his arm. “Be still!” Nicholas hissed. He withdrew his dagger as he moved behind Kieran, twisting his arm behind him and then laying his blade at the younger man’s throat. “Not another word or gesture,” he whispered menacingly.

            Kieran shifted slightly, and the knife’s blade pressed against his skin. He felt the stirrings of panic.

            A Circle pulsed darkly around them now, its grayness mixed with a malevolent green. A sulfurous stench was in the air. Elayne rose and turned to face Nicholas and Kieran. She smiled approval. “Excellent. Kieran, we could not do this without you.” Kieran’s gray eyes widened as he realized who was the appointed vessel.

            “No,” he pleaded.

            Elayne glanced at Gervaise and Thaddeus. Thaddeus smiled as he changed places with Nicholas. Kieran tried to escape, but Thaddeus quickly overpowered him. Nicholas joined Elayne and picked up the ritual dagger from the altar top and cut his wrist deeply. He held his wrist out to Elayne, the blood flowing freely from the severed vein and dripping on the stone floor. Elayne caught some of the blood in a pewter chalice. Nicholas wrapped a black cloth around his wrist. Elayne moved to stand before Kieran and dipped her finger into the still-warm liquid. Kieran tried to back away, but Thaddeus held him steady. Elayne drew a pentagram on his forehead, then raised the chalice to his lips. He turned his face away.

            “Drink, Kieran, or I will have Gervaise force it down your throat.”

Thaddeus shifted his hold slightly as Kieran tried to break free. Gervaise joined them and  held Kieran’s nostrils closed. The young man swallowed the blood reflexively. Elayne smiled in satisfaction. 

            She returned to the altar, placing the chalice in its center. Elayne threw her head back and clasped Gervaise’s hand. “Great Lucifer, help thy servants transcend death.We seek the spirit of one who resides with thee. We have a worthy vessel prepared, so that Cecelia Falkes may further thy purpose in our world.” She released her companion as a bolt of green energy flashed from the Circle to the floor before her. The stone cracked. The stench intensified.

            “NO!” Kieran screamed, shoving his free elbow into Thaddeus in a desperate attempt to escape what was coalescing before them. He didn’t care at this point if Thaddeus did cut his throat; it was a preferable fate. Thaddeus glanced at Elayne, then released Kieran and stepped back.

The form of a woman appeared before them, wrapped in silver-blue light. Her hair was black, and her blue eyes flashed. Such was the Power of her spirit that even Nicholas could see her. She smiled and stepped toward Kieran, who lost his balance as he backed away, his eyes staring in horror at the entity before him. He stopped when his shoulders hit the Circle. “Please, no,” he begged. The spirit disregarded him and stepped – into him. He crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

            Nicholas looked at Elayne triumphantly. “I never did like him,” he said conversationally. He crouched and laid a hand on Kieran’s brow. “His skin is cool.” The young man began to stir

            “Aye, I never cared for him myself,” Elayne agreed. She gestured to her right.  Thaddeus lay on the floor, dead.  “’Tis a pity about him, though. That much Power proved too much for his heart.”

            Nicholas agreed. Kieran’s eyes opened. His gray irises now glittered with a hellish blue.  “Nicholas,” he murmured, then reached a hand to the king’s cheek and caressed it. He sat up and brushed his lips against Nicholas’s. Elayne and Gervaise exchanged startled glances.

            “Cecelia, darling, welcome back.”  Nicholas’s tone was nearly a purr. “I regret to tell you that I have married again. ’Twas only because you had died, but I think you will approve of my choice.”

            Kieran’s eyes went cold for a moment then cleared. He held up a hand for assistance standing. Nicholas straightened and aided him. “Perhaps,” Cecelia said. Kieran’s voice was pitched slightly higher than before. “’Tis a pity, though, for we made a splendid pair.” She frowned. “What took you so long? It felt like an eternity.”

            “It has been a year and a half,” Nicholas explained. “Young Claybourne rules Myrridia, but my father finally succumbed to his illness nearly a year ago. I shall bring my enemy down, and I require your assistance in the matter of his wretched sister. You now have access to significant Dark ritual. ’Twas the only reason we chose this vessel for you.”

            Cecelia looked down at her body, then raised surprised eyes to Nicholas. “Dear God, I am a man,” she said, her tone a mixture of astonishment and revulsion.

            “Well, nearly,” Elayne said. “Kieran is over twenty, so I suppose he is counted as such.”  

            “I shall make do, then,” Cecelia said. “Transferring to another body later should prove simple enough. I would prefer to be a woman again.”

            Gervaise banished the Circle. Nicholas led Cecelia out of the chamber. “Kieran has been using your old tower room. I had no idea it would work out so conveniently.” He scowled. “I do have to bring you up to date on recent events.” The foursome walked to the Great Hall where Nicholas waved the others to a table. He paced in irritation.

            “Claybourne has appointed an earl to Tippensdown,” Nicholas said. Cecelia hissed in anger, and the blue in Kieran’s eyes intensified. Gervaise moved along the bench, putting a few more inches between Cecelia and him. “A dark-skinned man, Elijah Holmes. He is an associate of a certain Christopher McCabe, who has been impersonating the Duke of Saelym for a couple of years.”

            Cecelia gave Nicholas her full attention. “What? Are you saying that Lattimore is dead?”

            “Aye,” Elayne said. “Aldric Smithson discovered the masquerade before he was defeated by Edward Fitzroy a few months ago. The only amazing thing is that Christopher still lives after Aldric’s Magical attack. ’Tis rumored that Holmes has a gift for healing. It could have proven sufficient to restore his sanity.”

            “Aldric?” Cecelia’s eyes gleamed. “Magnus’s disciple?” Elayne nodded. “A pity. I would have liked to meet him.” Cecelia was thoughtful. “I have never faced Fitzroy Magically, but I do not fear him.” She tapped her chin. “I do owe Allyson Claybourne, however.”

            “She resides in Tippensdown,” Nicholas said. “As does my youngest brother Alexander.” He scowled again. “Though he shall return home soon, whether he wills it or no.” 

Cecelia gave a sly smile. “Perhaps when I am a woman again, I should marry him. Terrorizing him was so much fun.”

            Nicholas laughed shortly and joined Cecelia at the table. “Claybourne is to marry my sister-by-marriage, Juliana DiStephane, in a couple of weeks.”

            “Oh, really? She witnessed my Duel with Allyson, from within the Circle.” Cecelia smirked. “She was to prevent any cheating. I trust her sister is nothing like her.”

            “Rest assured, Cecelia,” Nicholas said. 

            Cecelia frowned. “Aye, and I remember Holmes, now. His accursed sister bewitched my weak-minded brother, Sebastian, who always did have too much honor for his own good.”

            “’Tis rumored that he returned with her to her home,” Nicholas said. “He certainly disappeared after Claybourne’s coronation.”

            Cecelia pondered the information. “I wonder if it was this – Christopher – who saved Robert’s life – two? – years ago. Well, he shall be of no help this time. Even if he has Magic of his own, unlike Lattimore, he will prove no match for me.” She touched Nicholas lightly on the arm. “Nicholas, darling, you’ve always known that I loved challenge. I wish to know all of your plans.”

            Everyone’s heads turned as Isabella Severinson approached the table. Cecelia’s eyes narrowed as she studied the pale-haired, blue-eyed beauty. Isabella touched a hand to Nicholas’s shoulder. “Did you succeed, darling?” she asked. Cecelia made a hissing noise as she felt a sharp stab of jealousy. She reached her mind forward and discovered Isabella had no Magic. She didn’t relax.

            Nicholas rested his hand on Isabella’s. “Yes, darling. May I present Lady Cecelia Falkes, my first wife?”

            Isabella took an inadvertent step back. Nicholas had confided his plans to her, but he’d omitted that information. “Your what?” she demanded. “What possessed you to marry me if you were already married?”

            “Isabella, Cecelia was dead. I had no idea at the time of our marriage that it would be possible to bring her back. I have you to thank for it, though.”

            “Do you still love her?” Isabella continued.

            “Do you love him?” Cecelia demanded, standing and moving toward the queen. Her eyes glittered with blue again.

            Isabella stared Cecelia down. “Of course not,” she said. “I love his title and the one he has given me.” She sat next to him and slipped her arm in his. “He and I see eye-to-eye on many things, such as who should rightfully rule Myrridia and Esterlyn. I wish to bring down the Claybournes as much as you do.”

            Nicholas held out his other hand to Cecelia. “You will always be first in my heart, Cecelia,” he said. “The three of us agree – Allyson and Robert Claybourne must die. Perhaps you can rule Myrridia for me, after you are reinstated in Tippensdown, of course.”

            “What about our daughters?” Cecelia persisted, unmollified.  

            “Our younger daughter died,” Nicholas said. “Our firstborn is still in St. Theresa’s Convent. I have been informed that she surpasses the other girls in scholarship, though she shows no Magical gifts as of yet.”

            “’Tis too early,” Cecelia said, mentally calculating the girl’s age. “We shall know in a year or two.” She eyed Isabella. She held out a hand to the queen. “Treat him well, and I shall wish you a long and happy marriage.” She glanced at Isabella’s swollen stomach. “And a fruitful one.”