Tag Archives: magic

Overkill Hill…

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Never look back!

It is good advice, unfortunately, in story-telling this advice,

when given, is never adhered to.

Orpheus… Lot… Dr Faustus…

They are all concerned with Soul.

The Soul that turns to look back is caught in time.

It may be an ‘intention thing’, like trying to serve two masters, do not walk one way and look the other.

There are any number of mythological monsters depicted in this way to prove it.

Tiamet… Nergal… The Dread Beast of Mercia.

The hero ‘slays’ them all, by moving forward.

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But going back to take another look, that is different.

That is part of going forward.

And it is also inevitable.

This time we inadvertently found ourselves following our own advice from one of our books.

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We started at Hordron’s, that hoary old receptacle of time, went on to Strines, the ‘Peacock Pub’, and finished up at the Old Horns Inn.

And this time when we got to Bradfield, ‘Castle Hill’ was illuminated.

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No need to wonder where we will be heading next then.

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But first, we had another encounter with one of our mounds to experience.

We needed more photographs.

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And photographs…

Were duly forthcoming.

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Once we had braved the curiously over-friendly sheep…

Departing…

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With the afternoon heading inexorably

towards evening at a pace…

and a two-and-a-half hour drive

before our next hostelry

ahead of us…

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We probably did not really have time to explore…

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But I am so glad we did.

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Deep within the Forest of Yore…

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We discovered a Clootie Tree…

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And an Old Celtic Chapel.

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Citadel of the Sun…

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‘There is a certain atmosphere about the place,

an echo of a life that is hidden deep in the recesses of the mind.’

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“Brown Sign!”

The Green Goddess lurched violently as she swung around the almost impossible corner, before her steady growl returned, and then a roar of satisfaction as she contemplated yet another ‘worm-hole’ through the space-time continuum…

“What is Carn Euny anyway?”

“It’s a prehistoric village.”

Forthe first time that day the mist which had descended with our arrival began to show signs of lifting.

And beyond it, the sun…

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It was hard to believe that anyone else could have found the place but in amongst the well positioned stones and wild grasses, a lone baseball cap bobbed.

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Patience can be key but when patience fails a well turned chant usually does the trick.

We did have a date with the tides to consider, after-all…

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“And the Fogou?”

“Is up for grabs.”

“Grain storage?”

Snort

“Last line of defence?”

Snort again.

“I’d say this was a sweat lodge. Bring in hot stones. Pour on water…”

“…And journey to the Spirit World.”

“It still retains its air of sanctity.”

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And just as we started to chant the sun shone in…

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A visit to spiral castle…

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Although we didn’t know it at the time,

Ballowal Barrow is a ‘Faery-Fort’.

It is situated close to a now disused tin-mine

and miners, during the late nineteenth century,

upon finishing their night shift, are said to have seen

lights burning over the barrow and faeries dancing there.

It would explain the sense of caution with which we approached the site.

Getting on the wrong side of the Faery-Folk is never advisable.

And it did feel like we were being watched, observed, or monitored, by something.

Still, as our intentions at these places are generally honourable we managed

to escape with our wits, more or less, intact.

Though, curiously, for the evening was still young, our sojourn there signalled the

end of adventures for that day.

Perhaps, they had some thing in store for us on the morrow…

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Holy Scions…

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Given that we were now checking out the ‘Michael Line’,

One might have expected some sort of ‘Angelic Support’…

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But even by our standards,

The send off assumed ridiculous proportions…

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It also offered unexpected vindication

for our speculations in the ‘Doomsday Trilogy’…

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A ‘Glastonbury Thorn’.

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DOOMSDAY

The Aetheling Thing     Dark Sage   Scions of Albion

All books available via Amazon in Paperback and for Kindle

Don and Wen, following the breadcrumb trail of arcane lore and ancient knowledge, scattered across the landscape of time, turn their attention to the myths and legends of Old Albion. They delve into the tales of King Arthur, asking some very strange questions about biblical family trees and exploring the many stories that abound in the very landscape of Avalon. Meanwhile, in Derbyshire, the voices of the past still whisper from the stones, opening a passage through time, place and memory to another world…

 

Doomsday: The Ætheling Thing

How is it possible to hide such a story… the hidden history of Christianity in Britain? Oh, there are legends of course… old tales… Yet what if there was truth in them? What was it that gave these blessed isles such a special place in the minds of our forefathers? There are some things you are not taught in Sunday School. From the stone circles of the north to the Isle of Avalon, Don and Wen follow the breadcrumbs of history and forgotten lore to uncover a secret veiled in plain sight.


Doomsday: Dark Sage
…. something was spawned up on the moor… something black that flew on dark wings. It heeds not time or place… but it seems to have developed a penchant for the travels of Don and Wen….
“Are those two still at it?”
“Apparently….”


Doomsday: Scions of Albion

Things are getting serious…

Exactly what is Wen doing with that crowbar and why is she wearing a balaclava?

All will be revealed…or will it?

Follow the story begun in The Initiate and the Triad of Albion,

as Don and Wen explore the ancient land.

Traced by Angels…

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‘Of wheel-tracks there were none just strange,

narrow paths across the moorland.’

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With the dust well settled over the Living Land Workshop, and already two days into our vacation, we found ourselves in search of a map.

A big map.

One which showed in greater detail the ways and by-ways of Old Cornwall.

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We had done well that first day, discovering a goodly number of the most obvious and easily accessible sites…

But this was going to need precision.

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We had a name.

We had a description.

We even had a picture, and now, we had a good map.

We could not fail, could we?

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Derbyshire’s Green Man…

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Beyond the forest’s leafy shade,

The hooded one, with giant’s pace

From pinnacle to pinnacle

Leap’t silently, in moonlit grace… 

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In eremitic solitude

In caverns deep to meditate…

Within, the riddle of the night,

A key that will elucidate…

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Beyond the stones, to four once nine

To where the goddess meets her mate

And heavens dance at winters turn

Bends earthwards to illuminate.

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Curse of the Hay-Collar: Lame-Buck…

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Now, that night at meat was an uncomfortable one for the Lord

of Dyved, for his companions found sport in ribbing him about

the day’s proceedings upon the Fair-Mound of Arbeth.

 

“So, was it blows and wounds or were wonders seen today?” asked Idig Arm-Strong.

“Why, I saw a great wonder,” said Tyrnonos. “A woman of uncommon looks rode past that

hill today, only to pull away from our chase without varying her pace.”

“And there’s some who’d say, they saw no looks at all either that way or this,” said

Caradawg-the-Hound.

 And all the company laughed.

 “And there’s others who’d say, that such a slight was no wonder at all but a blow,” said

Hevydd Broad-Back.

And the company laughed louder.

And so it went…

Until even Talyssinthe-Bard stood up and sang a ribald lay about a lame buck.  …

Excerpt from, Crucible of the Sun

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Crucible of the SunCrucible of the Sun: The Mabinogion Retold

By Stuart France

“I will dazzle like fire, hard and high, will flame the breaths of my desire; chief revealer of that which is uttered and that which is asked, tonight I make naked the word.”

Once upon a time we gathered around the flames of the hearth and listened to tales of long ago and far away. The stories grew in the telling, weaving ancient lore whose origins lie somewhere in a misty past with tales of high adventure, battles, magic and love. In Crucible of the Sun this oral tradition is echoed in a unique and lyrical interpretation of tales from the Mabinogion, a collection of stories whose roots reach back into the depths of time, spanning the world and reflecting universal themes of myth and legend.

These tales capture a narrative deeply entwined through the history of the Celtic peoples of the British Isles, drawing on roots that are embedded in the heart of the land. In Crucible of the Sun the author retells these timeless stories in his own inimitable and eminently readable style. The author’s deep exploration of the human condition and the transitions between the inner worlds illuminate this retelling, casting a unique light on the symbolism hidden beyond the words, unravelling the complex skein of imagery and weaving a rich tapestry of magic.

‘The author’s creative and scholarly engagement with the material and enthusiasm for the original tales is evident throughout.’ The Welsh Books Council

‘I found it very inspiring!’ Philip Carr-Gomm, Former Chosen Chief, Order of Bards, Ovates and Druids (O.B.O.D.)

Available worldwide via Amazon, in paperback and for Kindle.

ISBN-10: 1494785137

ISBN-13: 978-1494785130