The Isle Beyond Time
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This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental. First printing, March 2003 Distributed by Simon & Schuster Printed in the United States of America |
ISBN: 0-7434-3598-2Copyright 2003 by L. Warren Douglas All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form. A Baen Books Original Production by Windhaven Press Electronic version by WebWrights |
AcknowledgmentsDave Feintuch, for reading and criticizing an early manuscript and making suggestions. Leo Frankowski, for scathing criticism of the last chapters, as I had written them, and for thus saving the climax of the trilogy, and saving Pierrette from unbearable guilt. Alain Bonifaci and Nathalie Bernard, Hotel Cardinal, 24 Rue Cardinale, Aix-en-Provence, France, pour une chambre jolie et confortable, et un gai "bonjour" chaque matin. And Alain, for the tarasque. The French people for the preservation of so many antiquities among which we may, on certain magical occasions, part the Veil of Years. Sue, as always, for everything. Celeste Anne and Emma Sue, of course, just for being warm and furry. DedicationFor Sue E. Folkringa, my wife, my friend and companion on all the trails and byways of Provence, and wherever else the endless quest may lead us. MIND YOUR MA!Like soaring gulls, the goddess Ma and the girl Pierrette hovered high above the black, jutting crags of an island. "Follow me," Ma commanded in a gull's shrill voice. She tilted her wings and dropped swiftly. Pierrette knew where she was—the kingdom known as the Fortunate Isles, pulled from the realm of time's passage by the sorcerer-king Minho more than two thousand years before, when the empire of the Cretan Bull was buried in flaming ash and flowing lava. Her hard-working seagull's heart lightened. Ma's task could not be too terrible: Minho was handsome and charming. "Marry me!" he had begged her twice before. "Rule with me, and never grow old." They glided down on silent wings. She glimpsed a crowd in the outer court, all kneeling. Before them stood a man with the head of a great horned bull. The Bull of Minos, the high priest. Now the taurine man emerged in the smaller courtyard, letting the bronze door swing shut behind him. He tossed his white robe aside with a relieved sigh, and lifted the hollow horned head from his shoulders. Minho. Pierrette's seagull heart altered its rhythm. An anxious rustle of Ma's feathers warned her not to reveal herself. "Come," said the goddess. Pierrette opened deep blue, altogether human eyes, and saw the cool shadows of beech branches reflected in the sacred pool. "Will you remember everything you have seen?" asked the goddess, again a crone in worn, frayed wool. "You must remember, because your task is to find that place, and that man. You must set foot on Minho's soil in the real world, and you in the flesh. Find the Isles and their king, and then . . ." "Yes? And then?" "Then," said the goddess, "you must destroy his kingdom and he must die." Baen Books by L. Warren Douglas
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GOOD
AND EVIL...