"The Shimmering Flame" is the culmination of years of research and a love of all things Irish. When I began this story, I felt that it needed an anchor. Earlier this year I learned of the Terran Realm universe and knew immediately that I had found my linchpin.
Backgrand of happy wars and sad love songs". Listed at the bottom of the page are just a few of the links I found helpful.The Shimmering Flame
 Cover art by
April Martinez |
Brigid Kawsantower travels to Ireland with her husband, Gabe, unaware of the true reason for their trip — and her true identity — until she comes to the little town of Carrigclarseach. There she learns of the Terrans, a clandestine group of supernatural beings who struggle to keep the earth in balance.
Brigid is a Terran Water and Fire Keeper — and the daughter of Dagda, a mighty Water Keeper, and at one time the leader of the Terrans of ancient Eire. Retreating before invading forces, he places Brigid's spirit within the heart of an Irishwoman emigrating to America until the day when Brigid's help is needed to defeat Nimhnach, a maniacal Destroyer, who has aligned with Ba'al, a powerful demon, to gain eternal life and world domination. Can Brigid believe enough in her newfound powers to fulfill her destiny?
Gabe is a Terran Protector with a secret — can he protect Brigid from Nimhnach's plans and his own dark desires?
Irish archeologist, Ethan Clark, is a Terran Singer and Air Keeper. Ages ago he was Dagda's harper and right hand man. And ages ago, Ethan was Brigid's lover. Should he try to regain her love?
Now they all must work together to vanquish Nimhnach before he unleashes a terror that will enslave the world and destroy Brigid's loves — past, present... and future.
Present Day Ireland
28th April — late afternoon
"In other news this weekend, the mummified corpses discovered in a cave in County Donegal have been dubbed the 'Twelve Warriors'. Ethan Clark, noted archeologist, calls this one of the greatest finds of the last seventy five years and expects the examination of the Warrior Cave site to draw some of the world's most noted anthropologists and archeologists. And now for today's weather report..."
The portly innkeeper flicked off the small TV perched behind the registration desk and turned to the American couple waiting to get their keys.
"Mummies. The TV people took up every spare room in town. Thanks be to God, they didn't mention Carrigclarseach, else we'd have every loony in the country descending on us. Praise be, they packed up their bags and moved out the other day. ‘Tis lucky you are anyway to get Thorn Cottage. Professor Clooney fell and broke her hip, poor woman, and had to cancel her regular stay with us. She would have loved getting her hands on those corpses."
A giggle escaped the young woman. "I thought they only had mummies in Egypt."
"Nay, Dublin, too. 'Tis crawling with 'em."
"Crawling, eh?" The man smiled briefly at the loquacious fellow. "I guess we're lucky they're not crawling around here."
Connelly nodded. "Aye. Lucky, indeed."
The young woman smiled. "That's for sure."
Connelly was dazzled. She was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. Hair as gold as the sun and eyes gray-blue like the heaven on a soft day when a fine mist silvers the sky. Her husband looked to be a bit older, but quite distinguished looking.
"And what brings you to our town?"
"It was a last minute decision on my part." He glanced at his young companion with a fond look. "I wanted to give her a surprise belated birthday gift."
"Well, 'tis a wonderful gift then and welcome, cead mile failte and may your stay with us be a happy one."
He presented the guest book and they signed their names. He checked them against their registration. Kawsantower, that was a right queer name, but Brigid, now, that was a fine Irish name. He handed over the old-fashioned keys with a flourish.
"Mr. And Mrs. Kawsantower, you'll find cheese and tomato sandwiches in your fridge with some pop. The missus thought you might be hungry after your drive from the airport. Will you be needing help with your luggage?"
Brigid shook her head. "No thanks. We packed light and the larger suitcases can be wheeled."
"And please, it's Brigid and Gabe. C'mon, Bridge, let's unpack. I could use a hot shower after driving all the way from Shannon."
Connelly heard Brigid's laughter drifting back through the front door as it slowly swung shut.
"You just want to have your wicked way with me, you greedy thing."
He grinned. If he were Gabe Kawsantower he'd want his way with that one.
* * * *
"Oh, Gabe, it's charming!"
The little thatched cottage was like something from another time. From the outside it looked like a centuries-old dwelling. Brigid knew it came with all the modern conveniences -- the printout from the Irish tourist board website listed them with pride — yet the thought that came to her when she looked at the white-washed walls was to wonder if her great, great, great, grandmother had lived in one like it. She had no idea. Her grandmother had never spoken much about the town; there was an odd reluctance to even mention its name. When she was little she'd badgered her for tales of the old country, but she'd purse her lips and shoo her away. Then she died, leaving her alone until Gabe came into her life. Even Gabe claimed he didn't know anything about Brigid's ancestors. Whatever she knew about Ireland she learned on her own. Truth to tell, she found that she had the same unwillingness to delve too deeply. If Gabe hadn't tricked her, she never would have thought to come this way. But here they were and she was determined to enjoy herself.
"I'll bring in the bags. I knew you'd like this place. Aren't you glad I insisted we come?"
"Don't break your arm patting your back. I expected to be sunning myself in Cancun, not a town in the back of beyond."
"Well, I felt it was more than time to find out about your roots."
"I guess you're right. I wonder if anyone's left who knew my people?"
"Maybe. We'll see."
They entered the cottage and stowed the bags in the bedroom. The queen-sized bed sported a rainbow-colored handmade quilt. Further exploration revealed a remodeled kitchen and a cozy breakfast nook that looked out onto a flowering garden. The parlor's polished wood table was draped with lacy, fairy-web doilies and an immense fireplace filled one entire wall. As Brigid admired the room, she heard Gabe's voice through the open bedroom door.
"The john's tiny, but adequate."
"Let me see." Brigid re-entered the bedroom and peeked into the bathroom. "Yep, we'll have to share the shower." She yawned and flung herself onto one of the beds. "Damn, I'm beat. The time change must've gotten to me."
"Me, too. Let's turn in early. We'll do some exploring tomorrow."
"I'll get those sandwiches Connelly mentioned." She kicked off her sandals, strolling barefoot into the kitchen.
"Great, I'm starved." Gabe slipped off his loafers, taking a moment to wiggle his toes in the plush rug lying on top of the shiny oak floor. "Let me help. I'll set the table."
Brigid laughed. "This I have to see."
They gobbled up the sandwiches as if they hadn't eaten for days. Brigid licked the last crumb from the side of her mouth and heaved a contented sigh.
"I'm so full I can't move."
"Me, too. We'll sleep late, take a picnic lunch tomorrow and then check out the area."
"Sounds like a winner." She yawned, then grinned. "Dibs on the bathroom."
"Fine. Just don't use up all the hot water."
They carried their dishes to the sink and Brigid turned to Gabe.
"You can go first. Take a nice, long shower." She smiled wickedly. "Maybe I'll join you later."
Gabe snagged her around the waist and cupped her behind, pressing her against his groin. "How about joining me now?" His tongue delved between her lips. "A little belated birthday gift?"
He lifted her and carried her into the bedroom, setting her down at the foot of the bed. She stripped off her clothes, tossing them on the chair by the window and waited while Gabe got rid of his clothing, throwing them on top of hers.
Brigid glanced down at his crotch and grinned. "Guess you're not too tired, huh?"
"Guess not. C'mere, babe. Shall we try out the bed first?"
Brigid moved over to him and gave him a slight push. He fell backward, drawing her with him. She shifted, straddling his thighs and stroked the underside of his shaft. He shuddered. The touch of her hands on his bare skin never failed to arouse him. She leaned down, taking him between her lips and he bucked within the moist embrace of her mouth. She swirled her tongue around his aching penis as she cupped his balls and fondled them. He groaned. If he let her continue he would come in her mouth and that he did not want to do right now.
He reached up and gently caressed her silky hair. "Enough, babe, sit up. I want to taste you."
The golden fall of her hair brushed against his cock as she slid up his body and rested her hands on his shoulders. He drew her nipple into his mouth and suckled. She tasted sweeter than the honeyed mead of Ireland and her skin was softer than swan's down. He cupped her rounded ass, urging her to shift and take him into her body.
He heard the smile in her voice. "Is that an invitation?"
He smacked her lightly on one smooth cheek.
She gasped, but managed to respond, still teasing him. "Have I been a naughty girl or do you want me to be one?"
He pinched the nipple not engulfed in his hungry mouth. "Ow! Too hard!"
My God, did I hurt her?
He pulled away from her.
"Bridge, are you all right? I didn't hurt you?"
She shook her head. "Idiot, of course not. Now, be quiet while I get naughty."
She raised her arms above her head, lifting her breasts like an offering. She sank down onto his erection and slowly began to move, rising and falling like waves of music. His hands slipped to her waist and held her as she increased the tempo. Their harsh gasps filled the cottage as they came closer to reaching their climax. Gabe heard that little whimper she made when she was almost there and he urged her on. "Faster. Come with me, darling. Come for me."
LINKS
- Irish Literature, Mythology, Folklore and Drama
This website is the most incredible compendium of links to just about anything you'd want to know about Irish culture. The very first place to start your journey. - County Donegal
Where the main part of the story takes place. Donegal is one of the most beautiful counties in Ireland and is located in the Irish-speaking part of the country. Great website and this link leads directly to the place where the great battle described in "The Shimmering Flame" takes place. - Irish Harp Information
Just one of many sites dedicated to the unique harp of the ancient bards of Ireland. The smaller Irish harp sounds nothing like the more familiar large orchestral harp.