Forbidden road, p.1
Forbidden Road, page 1
Copyright © Reut Barak
Reut Barak has asserted her right to be identified as the author of this work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
This novel is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Cover Design by Domanza
Development Editing by Dr. Liron Gibbs Bar
Line Editing by Graeme Smith
Copyediting by Faith Williams
Interior Formatting by Dallas Hodge
ISBN 9798649996754
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher once it is officially being published, and made available for purchase.
“If there is a book that you want to read, but it hasn't been written yet, you must be the one to write it.”
- Toni Morrison
To Graeme, Liron, and Ben who made it all worthwhile
About the Author
Reut Barak is an author based in Edinburgh, Scotland. She started her career as a singer and learned about European history and myths. Inspired by Arthurian legends, she started creating a magical world of wizards and witches, which links to the rich folklore of Scotland and to modern love stories. She is also an online chef and founder of RawMunchies, a creative venture for healthy vegan recipes. She’s a freelance journalist, previously published in National Geographic online, and has worked and traveled internationally. She has an MBA from the University of Oxford and...
Well, no, not really... The true story is:
Reut was born in Camelot in the year 1201, following the famous explosion of the northern dragon tower.
She has a degree in fantasy and science fiction from the University of Atlantis and this record can be found in the central library, now twenty thousand leagues under the sea.
She likes phoenix riding, dragon fighting, and painting the roses red. And Grimm’s Fairy Tales, too.
Preface – How it all got started
The Evans Witches
www.reutbarak.com/evans
The idea first came to me a few years ago, when I started writing a story about a witch and a Charge, who lived long ago in Camelot: Kim and Seth.
That one went into the drawer. It was just a summer thing. A hobby…or so I thought.
A few years passed. I came to Scotland, because I was drawn to the beauty of the highlands, and I stayed because I found love. During a walk along the coast, in my imagination, I saw a modern witch, Julie Evans. Her story started to unfold and I began writing Blue Diamond. The plot was linked back to my original Camelot book. The characters were related. Their magic had a history.
I kept getting more and more ideas during hikes and when visiting old castle ruins. Without noticing it, I had created a universe—that of the Evans family of witches. The plan was set for two trilogies, covering the different generations.
I wrote Julie’s story, but at the back of my mind was Kim and her story.
This is that original story!
And after all the tough work rewriting it (and some hard-to-hear criticism from my amazing beta readers and editors), it is ten times what I could ever dream.
Kim and Seth, college students, have only just met. The spark of love between them, beautiful and passionate, has only begun. But they must go to the past, forget their identities and lose one another. Their journey back to each other requires them to make tough decisions in the past that can forever reshape the world of magic.
The History and Mythology Behind Forbidden Road
When my husband read through my final draft to do the technical editing, he remarked that when it comes to Arthurian legends, I seem to be extremely knowledgeable but my Scottish history and mythology is a mess. At the time, places and people had random Celtic names and inconsistent origins across both Scotland and Ireland.
So I did my research. That night, I discovered Fergus Mór.
It was love at first sight. The guy was a gold mine of inspiration!
Fergus Mór was king of Dalriada, or Dál Riata, which spread from southwest Scotland to Northern Ireland (including some of my favorite hiking spots).
He is thought to be the founder of Scotland and an ancestor of past and current Scottish rulers. He even claimed lineage to the legendary King Arthur—not something I included in my books, but it did fit perfectly with the correspondence I had written between him and Arthur’s father, Uther Pendragon, in Merlin’s Creed, the second book of this trilogy.
He ruled until his death at AD 501.
Many legends describe him in contradictory ways, including being exiled to Scandinavia by the Romans, and dying in battle against the Picts.
I chose Domangart Réti as the name for his son, which fit best with the occurrences in Forbidden Road. In historic documents, there were different accounts on who was his successor, including Domangart Réti, Dúngal, and Eugenius.
I also looked up the name Áedán, an old Celtic Scottish name, which I had chosen for Kim’s father in Forbidden Road. I discovered that one of the later kings of Dalriada was also called Áedán—Áedán mac Gabráin. A fascinating fellow, who was notorious for pestering northern Scottish and northern Irish kings, and his army’s “exploration” went as far as Orkney and the Isle of Man.
I’m glad I got challenged. The depth that these legends gave to the trilogy, not to mention to my own experience of writing it, is fantastic. I enjoyed walking into the mysteries of the past and adding a setting of myth and legend to my books.
To me, this was magic.
There was, however, one place, where I decided to leave facts and research outside the realm of my story, and take artistic liberty: when it came to castles, especially Fergus Mór’s.
I’ve always dreamed of beautiful fantasy buildings like the ones depicted in modern adaptations of Arthurian legends, or in Disney fairy tales. So, I let my imagination run freely and in this book you will find Fergus Mór living in a grander castle than what would be historically accurate.
If you are curious what sort of home he did have, I encourage you to look up Dunadd Fort, an archeological dwelling attributed to him.
See the Evans witches on:
www.reutbarak.com/evans
Want to know more about me, what I do, and what I cook? I welcome you to my website:
www.reutbarak.com
I also wrote a cookbook series: RawMunchies, healthy vegan recipes that has a YouTube channel and a blog on:
www.rawmunchies.org
And an experimental, funny collection of fairy tales, with colorful, eccentric characters, written in a special format on:
www.funnyfairytales.org
Prologue
The swirling motion stopped. Everything was still. I opened my eyes.
My first thought was Seth. I called out his name.
A woman said something soothing in a language I didn’t understand, as though trying to tell me that he was all right.
I looked at her. She resembled one of my college professors. But she was dressed differently.
Everything was strange. Like a weird dream.
I was lying on a bed. In the middle of the woods. It was broad daylight, and birds sang above me. It looked like a place I saw in a picture, from Ireland.
“Am I in Ireland?” I asked.
“Ireland?” The woman was puzzled.
She didn’t know about Ireland! How was this possible? Where had Seth and I been sent? Or…when?
There was a loud noise in my head, like a blur setting in. The memories of what had happened right before, in college, and my life until now, began to dim and the voices around me seemed warmer, safer.
Every time I blinked, the colors were more vivid and the people’s voices louder and clearer, but other parts of me were shutting down, closing my mind to any thoughts that didn’t belong here.
Chapter One
Western Scotland, AD 500
The day that Kimberley Áedán was kidnapped began with a broken wheel. It was the wheel of the royal carriage of the kingdom of Dalriada, and it fractured completely by chance. There was no magic involved, no road rut, no conspiracy, and not even the hand of destiny, as generations to come would claim. It was just a very old wheel.
The coach raced wildly in the dense forest, shaking from side to side. The driver tried to take control over the panicked horses. But the weight of the carriage, shifting the balance to the side, was too difficult to maneuver between the divots in the road.
The two men inside were jolted in their seats.
As the coach kept racing at top speed, the door flew open, letting out one of the trunks, which fell, spilling its contents.
“Stop the horses!” Seth cried. He was the younger of the two men, in his late twenties, with short brown hair and taller but a little slighter in build than his companion.
He pushed himself through the open door and hoisted himself to the roof, with rare agility, nearly falling as the carriage shook. From there, he joined the driver and with their combined strength, they pulled the reins. The horses whinnied and finally slowed down, but the coach only stopped once its corner fell into the road.
“Are you all right?” the driver asked.
“Fine.” Seth turned to look back through the ca rriage window, at his companion, who was still inside. “Niall?”
“I’m good.” Niall caught his breath and opened the left door. “I’ll stay with the driver. If you could go look for the trunk…see if the box is still in one piece.”
Seth climbed down and let Niall take his place.
Niall was the first knight, the highest mortal rank in any court. He belonged to the court of Fergus Mór, the regional high king. This journey was of great importance. Fergus Mór had secured his throne by arranging the marriage of his son Domangart Réti, the crown prince, to the daughter of King Áedán, the wealthiest of the lesser kings. Niall was delivering the marriage treaty that would seal the alliance between these two kingdoms.
The golden box, containing the marriage contract, was in the trunk that had fallen out.
Seth retraced the path of the wheels, his sharp eyes scanning the road on both sides. Behind him, Niall helped the driver pull the carriage out of the dirt. The driver cursed loudly.
Fergus Mór was a good king and ruled with justice. His knights always felt a duty to serve him well. Some of them feared what would happen when he was succeeded by his son. Much importance was placed on the marriage. The treaty was a complex one, and it took two weeks of negotiations just to get the first draft.
The bride was Áedán’s only daughter Kimberley. Seth had heard little of her. Áedán had traveled to Fergus Mór a few times to discuss the terms. From the stories, she seemed no different than other ladies of court he had met. Exactly what Domangart would be looking for, given his exploits at Fergus Mór’s palace.
It took a few minutes, but Seth finally spotted the glitter of the box. It was lying on the wet grass.
He walked over to it and picked it up. It was an impressive piece of art, ornamented with floral engravings around the royal crest. To his relief, it had survived the fall. There was one small scratch on the bottom and the hinges got twisted, but in spite of the deformity, the lock was still intact.
He tilted the box and heard the paper move inside. A strong odor came out when he did this. He had sensed it earlier and mentioned it to Niall, who said he didn’t smell it. He returned the box to him.
“It didn’t break,” Niall remarked in relief.
“No, but I think you should smell it. The odor is stronger now.”
He handed it over and Niall held it close to his nose. “I can see what you mean. It must be the prince’s ink. You’re right. It is strong.” He wrapped it carefully with a cloth. “The lock looks all right.”
The driver joined them, covered in mud.
“How are we doing?” Niall asked.
The driver shook his head. “There’s no way she’d make it to the castle, I’m afraid. Not with both of you inside.”
“Do you remember the way?” Niall asked Seth.
He had been there twice before. “It would be a little over an hour’s ride from here. As long as the same roads are still open since last spring.”
“As far as I know, they are,” said the driver.
“Good,” said Niall. “Seth and I will take the horses. We’ll send a few people to help repair the coach once we reach court, and hopefully we’ll see you at dinner tonight.”
Kimberley Áedán paced the marble floor of her father’s palace. What was taking them so long? She went to the window and looked out, biting her fingernails. Then, she noticed herself doing it and put her hands behind her back.
Patience was not one of her strengths. Neither was dealing with excitement.
Marriage. She had never really given it much thought before her father sat her down to speak about Domangart Réti. The notion itself didn’t surprise her, of course. Marriage was a necessity. Something that nobles did, and she was a king’s daughter.
Her father said that it was her right and duty to be married well, and this alliance would be very carefully arranged and made beneficial for her, placing her on track to the crown. The final decision would be up to her, but it was clear that she was expected to go along with it. Enthusiastically.
She was brought to his court a few months earlier, when her year and a half of education was complete and it was certain that she had the necessary skills and preparation to excel in her father’s court. It was the richest one in the region, and a high level of sophistication was required to maneuver its politics.
She didn’t remember her life before that, not since the accident she’d had. A fact that her teachers instructed her to prudently conceal.
Her mentor had been no other than a fairy queen, Morgan Le Fay. Few princesses could boast that—to be trained by someone with that amount of experience, an immortal who had walked the earth for many years, seeing different courts, speaking foreign languages, and meeting nobles of different ranks. Morgan was a great teacher, too. Harsh at times, as fairy leaders often were, but always fair.
Kim missed her. And the fairy tribe, in their beautiful forest town, built generations ago, with its arched pillars and silver roofs blending naturally with the surrounding woods. She’d lived with them there, in that beautiful paradise, learning everything she could.
No matter how grand or luxurious court life was, or how much she was looked up to by other court ladies, her every wish immediately fulfilled, she’d often find herself glancing out the window toward the woods with a longing. She remembered clearly the last time she saw Morgan, looking back from her coach, before disappearing from view in the dense foliage.
Soon, the royal carriage would arrive, coming out of those very woods. The regional king’s first knight. Here to deliver her wedding contract.
She had written Morgan about the marriage, and it was clear from the reply that Morgan was not supportive. She wrote that it was a hasty choice, too early in her court life and that Domangart was not the right one for her.
It didn’t sound like Morgan. Though strict, Morgan normally pushed her to excel and take challenges. She looked up to her. It would have been nice to have her support.
Three months till the wedding. She looked out the window, beyond the high walls of her father’s castle and the fields outside the gates.
“Don’t stare out too long.” She remembered Morgan’s words and took a step back, into the room. “It’s not ladylike.”
But she liked to look out, to the distant horizon where she saw the tall mountains that some of the knights had spoken of when they came back from their quests. Beyond them were other kingdoms, some smaller than hers, some larger. Then, after that, there was the sea. Merchants who came to court spoke of a land in the south, where there once was a great kingdom ruled by mages.
Her father said there was nothing of any value beyond the castle walls, except perhaps the nearby marketplace, where he would take her from time to time.
Perhaps it was that way for him. King Áedán was definitely a court person. There was always something on, with knights visiting, to enjoy the feasts and games he’d arrange. They’d bring stories with them, but those were too often about other courts, which sounded all too familiar. Between these, she’d catch the real tales. The things that knights had seen on the journey itself, with accounts of places, dangers, creatures, and people who were very different than the ones in court. Sometimes she’d lay awake at night, imagining that she was there with them.
She was grateful for her father’s investment in her, but he never knew who she really was. And she had no mother to talk to, because she had died giving birth to her.
He’d definitely taken every effort to make her happy here, since she came to court. He made sure to surround her with other court ladies her age, hoping she’d enjoy society the way he did, but most of them envied her. Long before it was announced that she was marrying the crown prince, she’d catch them during the endless balls and dinners, staring in that particular jealous way and often whispering to each other afterward. Their gaze would fixate on what she was wearing or at her jewelry, things that her father made it his business to provide at the highest quality he could afford, which was a lot.
They were sure to do it tonight, she realized, as she straightened the light purple dress she wore, which accentuated her blue eyes. Her long blonde hair was raised and tucked behind her ears; a delicate pair of golden earrings was all the jewelry she wore. It might have already been too much. After all, it wasn’t the prince himself who was coming, but his first knight. Still, she was expected to make an effort.
