1st 5 Pages Nov Workshop - Williams Rev 2

Name: Judith Williams

Genre: Young Adult Fantasy

Title: Midsummer Chronicles

Pitch:

Kidnapped at birth, fifteen-year-old Reyne dreams of finding his human family. Torn between despising his faerie captors and feeling he should be grateful for all they have provided, he finds solace in the company of his friend Halite, a gnome with a habit of blowing things up.

When Reyne discovers he has the power to open a path to another realm, powers that humans should not have, the faeries lock him away. That is until the portal he opened lets in the soul sucking sirens. Reyne panics and looks for a place to hide. Instead, he finds an ancient being who opens a portal to send Reyne home. In a bungled attempt to save him, Halite sends them both into the darker part of the Faerie Realm.

The mortal realm is not the haven Reyne expects. Magic has deteriorated leaving a desolate land ravaged by a siren seeking revenge on his ancestors. The family he’s longed for rejects him, and for reasons he can’t understand, the sirens are trying to kill him. Reyne wants to go home, but as he delves deeper into his heritage, he realizes going home means letting go of all he knows, including those he loves.

Pages:

  

Careful to place one foot directly in front of the other, Reyne moved forward until he stood centered between the tall grasses that ran along one side of the beach and the water’s edge.

Reyne took seven steps to his left, pushed the tip of the stick into the sand, and drew a large circle. He dropped it at his feet and placed his palms together, pressing his thumb against his sternum. The ocean breeze ruffled his hair as he bowed deeply to the sun.

He pointed toward the blazing orb. “Eimi!” he shouted.

The ocean rumbled.

A burst of light shot from the sun and across the waves. Reyne flew through the air, landing hard on his back. Grains of sand shifted beneath him. He scrabbled away. A tiled, bluestone floor encircled by twelve, large rectangular, flat-topped rocks rose, revealing the, grand pavilion in the center.

Reyne’s heart thundered in his ears, and he lowered himself onto one of the stone benches to catch his breath. “That was power. . .” He inhaled to steady his breathing and pushed himself off the bench. A tremble created a slight waiver in his steps as he walked over to the basket he had tossed. Hands shaking, he lifted it to his waist and turned, releasing a sigh of relief. He stood alone.

Reyne crept toward the pavilion and stood before one of the slabs. He glanced at his basket. The placing usually occurred after the faeries arrived. Eyes closed, he took another deep breath and steadied the shaking in his hands. His eyes popped opened, and he grabbed a handful of berries and dropped them on the flat top, making his way around the circle and repeating the action at each slab from which the faeries would eat them.

Reyne stepped back from the stones and examined his body. No bruises, no sparkles, no sign that anything out of the ordinary had happened. His mind whirled. He couldn’t have lifted the pavilion. He was human. So, who or what?

A chill wind ruffled the dark curls at the nape of Reyne’s neck, sending a tingling surge along his spine. He shivered and rubbed the arms of his pale green tunic as he turned toward the sound of fluttering wins.

“Human!” Seymour’s high-pitched voice commanded from behind.

Reyne closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and turned.

Seymour and eleven other faeries hovered in the air.

“Yes?” Reyne asked.

“Yes? Yes? That’s all you have to say?” said Seymour, a deep crimson exploding across his face.

“I didn’t do—” Reyne’s eyes grew wide and the words caught in his throat. Pain seared along every fiber of his being and he stumbled forward, falling to his knees.

“Who lifted the pavilion?” Seymour asked, magic crackling along his fingertips. “Everything has to be done in order!”

“Not I,” responded a chorus of voices.

Seymour sneered at the group. “We don’t have time for this.”

“Barely time. . .” the others added amongst themselves as they fluttered past him, each flying to hover in front of a stone. “The sun is rising,” their singsong voices echoed.

Seymour took his spot before the last stone. “Positions. We must be quick and harness the magic before the sun has fully risen.”

Reyne pulled himself to his feet and made his way to his place on the grassy hill that rose over the beach.

The faeries took the berries in their hands and delicately nibbled them until they were gone. They raised their hands to their sides, kicked out a leg, and spun. As they twirled, their wings diminished, and their bodies grew in stature. Long, silky hair whirled about tall, lithe, elven forms—glimmering orange and gold in the beams of sunlight.

Though Reyne had witnessed this act every morning, he stared in awe. The faeries rarely showed their elven forms outside of ritual. Their pale skin glittered, and their eyes shone like the bright blue of the morning sky. In contrast, the sharp angular features of their face alluded to something otherworldly. During the morning ritual, day after day, his awareness of the differences between he and the Fae grew. In witnessing the shift from diminutive to tall, lithe, and deadly beautiful, he remembered that he should never take these creatures lightly.

Their magic cascaded over their bodies as they raised their arms and clasped their hands. The elves danced around the stones clockwise three times and then reversed, circling equal rounds in the opposite direction. As they twirled, the menhirs rose higher, revealing the cromlech buried beneath the sand. The hallows between each stone, stretched tall, like doorways, but not once had the Fae step through.

As their power grew, a light sparked to life at the center of the pavilion. Reyne rose and raised his arms in the air to praise them. As he swayed, he leaned forward trying to see what lay beyond. A shadow moved across the opening of one of the hollows, and he leaned in closer just as his arms swung too far in the opposite direction, throwing himself off balance. He tumbled forward and down the hill, breaking through the clasped hands of the elves. Shouts echoed in his ears as he tried to grab hold of the stones and fell through the center.

Face-down and sprawled across the cool, hard floor of the pavilion, he took a deep breath and pulled himself to his knees. Reyne bowed his head to avoid eye contact with the faeries. He shuddered. What would happen now? He had broken the sacred. Surely this would be punishment beyond locking him in his home.

“Who are you?” a deep, yet musical voice commanded.

Reyne opened his eyes and scrambled to his feet. He found himself in a pavilion much like the one on the beach. A forest blanketed in a deep blue hue surrounded the stone structure, encasing it in an unsettling darkness. Fear crawled over Reyne.

A tall, blond male elf, wearing white and gold silk robes towered over him.

Reyne took a step back, shielding his eyes from the golden glow that emanated from the elf’s skin. “M-me?” he stammered. “I’m just a— a— human. Who are you?”

Curiosity flicked across the elf’s features. “What do you mean, who am I? I am the Bearer of Light. And you must be the human siphon who has been stealing my sun.”