I, Valeria
by
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"This hall hath an unseemly smell", he thought to himself as he moved through the small hallway, which was being used as a privy by all those attending Her Blessed Highness's dying performance. "This castle shall need six months of airing when she has passed”, he said aloud for his ears only. The sound of his own voice comforted him somewhat. Two fortnights in and yet she lingers, and now comes this stranger. That was the real thought that bothered him. He shifted nervously as he reached the door to the stairs and began to descend. "I'd rather be in the room with the shit than see this Eastern prince on such a night as this," he said as he reached the last step of the first flight of stairs. Why would she allow such a prince, unknown in any court, to visit her Royal Person, and upon her deathbed no less? Surely madness has taken her. He had reached the gate now to await this unknown. The cold March wind bit into him and his fine velvet doublet was assaulted by rain driven by that cold wind. Mist hung heavily upon the landing, the flagstone wet and slippery, as more mist poured over them from the Thames. What could this mean for the realm? Surely she means to pass the crown on to the protestant prince to the north, her cousin by birth. That was the current gossip around court; direct from the lips of her chief advisor had he heard it himself. So what could this possibly be about? Only this morning she had sent away her priest and a great many courtiers had been bade leave the presence of the queen. But then his thoughts shifted as he noticed the arrival of the boat, which he was told to await. Slowly it cut through the choppy waters and mist of the Thames. Like a floating predator, it cut through the fog, coming closer to the landing. The guards with him stood at attention as he shifted his damp clothing and a nervous feeling deep in his bones began to creep outwards to the skin and the hairs on the back of his neck. As the boat docked he found he had to fight not to shake. As the attendants on the boat began to draw back the curtains of the stranger's box he was nearly overcome with fear and felt his head swoon, as though someone or something had reached into his head for a moment and looked at all his secrets and thoughts. He steadied himself and motioned to the guards and they all stepped forward to receive this feared stranger.
His trip had been long by his standards, yet he moved much faster than these pathetic mortals who were waiting for him upon the landing of the palace. He had come from the depths of the forests of the Balkan Mountains, deep within the black forests of Eastern Europe. His kind had been rulers there for millennia, long before Europe was even called such. He could smell the blood within the mortals standing upon the dock and realized that he was quite hungry. He had only fed twice on his journey, once in Poland, which he had reached by the first night of his journey, and once in France, just before he crossed the channel on the second night of his trip. Now on the third night, he had not had time to feed, as he knew he could not tarry or perhaps the chosen one would have died before he arrived. What a horrible and unthinkable thought. If that happened his informant in the palace would surely pay for waiting so long to inform him of her terminal state. His thoughts of hunger crescendo, as he smelled the fear of the courtier sent to usher him into the palace. How delicious that fear smelled, especially now in his hungered state. He could hear the man's thoughts of fears and succession, mortal triviality. He realized he could barely even remember having had such thoughts. He had been alive so long, he could hardly even remember being mortal. Sometimes he wondered if he had ever truly been mortal at all. But then his thoughts were interrupted as the curtains to his box were drawn back and he saw that the boat was docking at the landing. Slowly he stood and made ready to step from the boat. For one moment he thought it might be amusing to leap from the boat several feet into the air and land behind the cheerless greeting party, but then he remembered the seriousness of his mission and stepped up just like a mortal would, taking the hand of the guard proffered to him and stepping onto the wet flagstone.
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About the Book
An old, powerful queen lies on her deathbed. A stranger, an Eastern prince, arrives at her court to bring her to a new life. Playing on her vanity and fear, the stranger gives her his blood and a new chapter begins for her, at the ending of a long and fruitful life.
She had ruled her empire with all her heart and mind, and now, drained of all energy, she would retire in the only way that a monarch can; she would die. Yet fate had other things in mind. A powerful clan of blood drinkers have been watching her, and guided by other, greater forces, they have decided to make of her a warrior for their own schemes. Yet, destiny will intervene and carry her on a much greater journey, beyond those petty schemes, taking her further into the past and future than she could have ever believed.
With all her illusions shattered, our great queen will find a world much different than she ever thought possible. Embracing this world, she will become something far greater than her maker. Told the story of the ages and trained in the oldest of arts, she will become the purveyor of dreams.
Come now into a magical world, a world of myth and legend. Stalk the night and hunt your prey. Come to the Fairie mound and fly in the open sky. Travel the stars and learn the hidden history of the planet Art, which you call Earth. The ancient races of Art and ANWN await you with their stories,..and their agendas.
About the Author
Brian Reeder brings together his love of history, myth, legend and literature in his writing. From his earliest childhood, Brian has been interested in horror, fantasy, sci-fi, and history. He is also fascinated with what he calls "hidden history" and conspiracy theories, as well as cryptid animals and unexplained phenomena. He says, "I read everything. I am obsessed with history, legends and myths of all kinds." His favorite area of history though is British, from the earliest paleolithic to modern, with special emphasis on Celtic or Gaelic history and legend.
Brian is a true renaissance man, with interests in a great many subjects. He has worked for over two decades with domestic animals and has studied their genetics extensively. He is an accomplished artist, prefering oil to most other mediums. He also works with music and is highly influenced by the great classical composers, as well as modern artists from many genera. Brian says that he brings all of his interests to his writing, and that he feels all of his many interests lend a greater depth to each other.
Brian is also deeply concerned about the environment. His love of the Earth and nature is clear in his writing. He says, "I want to interject into my writing an awareness of holistic systems, how all things work together."
His current work is a combination of all his passions. He says, "I would be hard pressed to assign this series to any particular genera. It has elements of horror, sci-fi and fantasy, but goes even further, delving into all my interests."
His first book in a series, I, Valeria combines all his interests with his talent for writing, into an enjoyable and though-provoking whole.