I am caught in the magic of creating, and the wheels are turning. Among the day-to-day, and the necessary considerations of balance, projects are moving forward, points of fruition are on the horizon, and I am enraptured by the process. One such project is the third instalment of my fantasy project Blood Gift Chronicles, COMING SOON. I took the necessary time, allowed the ideas to percolate, the characters to mature, and now the end is in sight. I am excited. And I am excited to reveal more surprises that I’ve been working on for the series. Soon.
Working in fantasy, magic is a running theme. Where some consider magic to be associated with powers that do not occur in the natural world, in my work I look for the magic to feel like extensions of the natural world. It maintains an organic feel, drawing on ethereal spaces, dreams and the spirit world, and the power of words. It is also a world I created, and so the rules of what I consider to be natural are something I can play with: the magic can be big, and explosive, shape-shifting and extraordinary, while not losing touch with the quiet natural order that the characters are steadfastly working to return to. Because nature itself is magic, a place from which to be inspired, and a place to return to.
There is magic that is passed down in bloodlines, magic that is performed as ritual, both in groups and individually, magic used to change form, to communicate, to forge connection through the ages. There is magic that is enabled through powerful amulets, and magic that is driven through belief and emotion. I think fondly of the character Suni in Return of the Mantra, facing tragedy, being cast out alone into a dangerous world, feeling the weight of responsibility as she must feel her way against the odds, to survive, and to realise and accept that she is gifted. She is a dreamwalker, a gift that remains and establishes itself through the series, fostering connection with those she loves and in particular with a young friend who she watches over.
To better explain, I’ll hand you over to Suni. The following is an extract from The Warder, when we first meet Suni again, ten years later from when we left her at the end of Return of the Mantra. Enjoy…
THE WARDER
Chapter Ten – EXTRACT
MY MOTHER HAD BEEN A dreamwalker, a gift passed from mother to daughter. We were separated for years before she died, but she had always been able to reach me in my dreams. It was only after she died, ten years ago, that I realised the gift had found its way to me.
I see the mists of Serafay at the edge of my dreams, mists only the dead or a dreamwalker can know. How to navigate the mists is still a mystery even to me; it just is. Sometimes I think the destination lies rooted in desire. My mother had missed me, worried for me, a longing that had led her to me. My own nightly ventures took me to the dreams of my young friend, Wanda; a gifted boy I had known since he was an infant. Ours was a bond formed during an extraordinary journey we had once shared.
Much had changed since then, and the distance between us meant I couldn’t visit often. A boy gifted to speak the tongues of animals, he lived among wildlife in the valley beyond the mountains, while I had returned to my coastal hometown. I thought of him often, worried about him. I was aware that his relationship with Ntombi, my old friend, was not as it should be. I was thankful for my gift, reassured by my visits into his dreams.
ONE NIGHT I CLOSED MY eyes and drifted from the waking world, descending into sleep. Random colours and images of everyday life came and went, but I drifted on through until the colours drained to grey, and I was standing before the wall of mist. I stepped in, abandoning caution, and surrendered to my gift.
In the thick grey haze, the air was still and cool. I walked blind, deeper into the mist where ghosts crossed my path. They appeared oblivious to me, sometimes walking straight through me, leaving the cold of their presence lingering on my skin. Whilst my mother was at peace, ghosts aimlessly wandering Serafay had mournful, despairing eyes.
I felt a change in the air; a slight breeze brushed against my hand. I held out my hands, finding the direction, and turned to walk into the breeze. It was always the same, the mist showing me the way. The breeze grew stronger the further I went into the tunnel of moving air that was hidden from the dead. Among the swirling tones of grey, a window of colour appeared up ahead. I walked towards it, unsure of where it would lead. The only certainty was the dreamer; it was always Wanda I came to when I walked out of Serafay.
I stepped out of Serafay to find myself in Juna’s cave. Wanda was there, his back to me, sitting with legs dangling over the overhanging shelf, head cocked as he looked out over the grasslands. I stepped around the burnt-out fire and went to him. The sun was shining down as I stood next to him on the ledge, but the cold of Serafay lingered.
I crouched down and looked at his face. He never saw or heard me in the dream world. Sometimes I’d see him appear unresponsive to anything as he gazed intensely into space. This time was different; only the whites of his eyes were showing. I put a hand on his arm, reassured by the warmth of his body that felt like a shock against the cold of mine, and looked out across the landscape. Where are you? Startled by a shrill call overhead, I glimpsed a circling hawk, before Serafay came to claim me.
