An excerpt from Strange Brews:

Chapter One

    Mist filled the Vale of Amrodel, dew sparkled on the grass, and the leaves hung laden with moisture as Eliana Daere rode to the appointed meeting. Deep into the heart of the Woodland realm she rode, and the weight of impending glory rode with her. Her chubby brown mare plodded too slowly for Eliana’s eagerness. “Move swiftly, Selsig! I must reach the glade before Damir, lest he lay a trap for me.”
     Selsig offered a brief trot, then slowed again to a walk. The path dipped low, then rose higher as she approached the Mage’s Glade, ancient meeting place of the greatest mystics the Woodland had ever known. Today, this legendary site would see the end of a battle between lifelong rivals, and the dawn of her own ascension.
     Today, she would pour the Wine of Truce, and watch him drink.
     Eliana’s eyes narrowed to slits, her lips curved upwards at the corners. Never had she reached this height of brilliance. Damir couldn’t resist her offer of meeting. He couldn’t resist learning her true intentions.
     He would doubt her, of course, but she was prepared. She had positioned herself in front of her polished looking glass and practiced her speech. She’d practiced looking innocent, guileless. She’d practiced a humble appearance.
   A low, satisfied chuckle began in her throat as she anticipated her victory. She was the greatest herbalist that ever lived. Her talents with mystic brews surpassed even Madawc, the old Mage who had apprenticed both Eliana and Damir.
     Their competition started in childhood. Damir was always a little ahead of her. When she was exploding mushrooms, he was making objects disappear. When she turned a horse’s coat blue, he elevated Madawc’s chair, and stole her glory. When she offered the Woodland King her wisdom concerning the Norsk threat, he chose Damir as Amrodel’s defender, and ignored her. No one gave her the respect she was due. That would change. But not before she had eliminated the one person who always seemed to turn her plans upside-down.
     Not today. Today, she had surpassed his greatest skills, and everything she had ever wanted would soon be hers for the taking.
Selsig picked her way toward the glade with exceeding care, avoiding a thorn bush on the right, and a jutting rock on the left. Eliana squeezed her legs against the mare’s fat belly. “Move on, Selsig!”
     She rode into the clearing, but too late. Damir sat astride a tall, gray horse. Larger than any Woodland pony, the beast was heir to the great horses from the desert herds of Kora, product of the magnificent stallion brought north by Damir’s father. Dragonflies darted around the clearing and the filtered sunlight glinted on their delicate wings. The morning dew rose in a fine mist around his horse’s strong legs, shrouding the Mage in an eerie light.
     Damir exuded confidence and strength. He was too handsome and too powerful. He wore a satin tunic in scarlet and indigo over ivory, the heraldic Beast of Amrodel emblazoned on his chest. Like most Woodland people, Damir rarely dressed in formal attire. But rather than respect, Eliana perceived he had chosen this special garment to mock the formality of her invitation.
Each time she saw him, he seemed to have grown. And every time she saw him, the tingle in her fingers increased and her breath quickened. Eliana forcibly directed her vision from Damir to his horse. The horse champed at the bit and stomped, but Damir held it in place. Selsig jerked to a halt and started to back up.
     How humiliating! Eliana kicked her heels into the mare’s side. “Selsig! Proceed!”
The mare sidestepped around the edge of the glade. Seven upright stones marked the circle. The meeting rock sat in the center, placed there ages ago by the first Woodland Mages. Its surface was flat, and there were two smaller rocks set at the northern and southern points. Eliana had envisioned herself riding proudly to the rock. Instead, Selsig jigged sideways.
     Eliana peeked at Damir. Yes. He was grinning. A blade of sunlight cut through the dawn mist and glinted on his black hair. The sun touched his face, and Eliana’s heart took an odd bounce. In one miserable flash, she imagined herself in his arms, herself as the source of his renowned desire, herself lost in his passionate embrace.
     It was a cruel fate, to desire one’s enemy. But even the darkest fate could be overcome. It would be overcome with her wisdom and cleverness. She had arranged everything. Today, nothing would be denied her.
     She glanced at him. He was smiling because Selsig was afraid of his overbearing horse. “That beast is frightening my mare!”
     He stroked his horse’s strong neck. “Llwyd hasn’t moved. The fear is in your mare’s imagination.” His voice was low, tinged with humor.
     It was a fair point, so Eliana ignored it. “‘Llwyd?’ You named your horse ‘gray?’”
    “It’s accurate.” Damir eyed Selsig, who balked at approaching the meeting stone. “Selsig means sausage. That also seems appropriate.”
     The morning wasn’t going as she planned. Selsig flatly refused to move closer to Damir’s horse, so Eliana was forced to dismount. She flung her leg forward over Selsig’s neck, then hopped down. Damir dismounted with grace and ease, then tied Llwyd to a tree. Eliana led Selsig to the far side of the glen and hitched her to a shrub because the tree branches were too high for the pony.
    Selsig forgot the threatening stallion and began stuffing herself on leaves. Eliana seized her pack, checked to be sure her decanter was still right-side up, then turned to face Damir.
     He wasn’t carrying a pack, though a sword hung at his side in a jeweled scabbard. Damir had directed his skill at forging weapons with secret powers, and all blades created by his hand were beyond price, treasured by the King of Amrodel - and sought after by his enemies. Even his simplest weapons sold for high prices in the port city of Amon-dhen – even more prized than the herbs and potions Eliana sold there herself.
     But Damir’s ability to create a protective shield of energy had become even more valuable in uncertain times. No invader could enter the realm of Amrodel while Damir’s shield held, though nothing could protect its inhabitants from the dangers they carried within. With his power, he held together a land that had long ago lost its balance. In Eliana’s view, this power kept Amrodel isolated, and in isolation, she saw doom.
     Eliana hesitated, popped her lips like a bottle being uncorked, then approached the Mage’s Rock. She set her pack casually down beside the rock, then clasped her hands before her body and bowed.
    “ I am deeply pleased and most honored that you consented to meet me here, Damir ap Kora.”
Damir motioned outward with his hands and returned her bow. It wasn’t sincere. “Could I deny such an unexpected invitation, Eliana? Your message spoke of truce and alliance. Yet what alliance can there be between us, who have so long been adversaries?”
     The great bulk of Damir’s power was in his voice, Eliana felt sure of it. It was low and curiously sensual, worming its way inside her and confusing her thoughts. His brown eyes betrayed nothing, but because her eyes were a misty green which revealed every thought, every scheme, she often had to avert them to disguise her intentions.
     Now was such a time. She glanced around at the horses, then at the rock, then at a skylark as it flitted from the high chestnut branches.
     Her gaze snapped back to Damir. “Let us put aside our past differences, Damir. They were small...”
    “You tried to set me on fire.”
    “And best forgotten.”
    “I had almost no hair for a year after that.”
    “It grew back, didn’t it?” She hadn’t meant to snap. She caught herself and forced a smile. “Those tiresome, bleak days are gone. You and I have excelled at our craft. We are both gifted from birth, and well-skilled by learning. Surely we are better together than apart?”
    “Are you offering marriage, Eliana?”
     She cringed and shuddered, then sucked in air like a hiss. “Not in this lifetime!” He laughed, and she shook herself, fighting to remember her purpose. “I propose an alliance. We will combine our knowledge, and work together in the King’s service.”
    “When Owain Daere made this same offer two years ago, you refused. You took the proposition of alliance with me as an insult. You flung grapes and apples at my head, called the King a snake, and - I’m certain - gave the King’s wife a rash.”
    “I never did.” She had. Owain had insulted Eliana by denying her the position of honor she deserved - in favor of Damir. If the King had to sleep alone for a few days, or a week, it was as he deserved.
     Damir nodded. “As you say, it is best forgotten. Come now, Eliana, what do you ask of me? It’s well known to all the Norsk Chieftain, Bruin the Ruthless, threatens this land. It is known also that he bears a vial of your most deadly potion.”
     Eliana winced. This was a sore spot, and perhaps evidence that her uncle might be wise in refusing her a position in his service. “It’s only deadly if used in full quantity. Its original purpose was to induce sleep.”
     His brow angled. “I doubt Bruin the Ruthless intended to combat sleeplessness. Nor is he likely to use your potion by the drop.”
     She couldn’t allow herself to get angry or argue with him. “The potion was purchased in good faith.” She paused, feeling small. “And once I learned it had fallen into the wrong hands, I immediately devised an antidote and gave it to the King. He is in no danger.”
    “Purchased, you say, but by whom?”
     Eliana met his eyes and she did not waver. “This matter was discussed at Council. I see no need to revisit the matter here. It was resolved by my antidote.”
    “You gave no better answer there.”
    “And I never will!”
     His smile had faded. “What allegiance do you bear the Norsk, Eliana? They are cruel, by all accounts, savage in battle, and nothing I have ever heard of them can be called admirable. Their whole culture, such that it is, is based on a love of warfare and mayhem.”
    “They fear us, too,” she answered, but her jaw set firm. I will say no more.
    “From what I know of the race, the Norsk fear nothing, no one, though their might cannot rival the magic of the Wood. Yet.”
     Eliana said nothing, but Damir’s gaze seemed to bore into her, to penetrate her secret defenses. “You care for them,” he said. “I see it in your eyes.”
     She averted her eyes. He saw too much. “That is none of your concern.”
    “There are some who say you have taken a Norsk lover.”
     She frowned and rolled her eyes. “There are some who are fools. Give me their names and I will deal with them accordingly.”
    “When you give me the name of your Norsk ally,” he replied. “I know what ‘accordingly’ means to you, and I would not inflict it on another.”
     Eliana glared at him. “I care not what people say. You especially.” This was not going as she had planned. She intended to disarm him with sweetness. Instead, she imagined a drawn bow clenched in her hands, and aimed at his heart. To her horror, she realized she was already adopting the stance, reaching back as if to draw an arrow, taking aim… She snapped her hands to her sides and folded her hands together, tightly. Damir’s brow elevated and a smile again flickered on his lips.
    “Long have you counseled the King to lower our defenses, to negotiate with the Norsk,” he said, ignoring her quickly resolved battle stance.
      “Until your motive is answered, I cannot imagine any alliance between us. By whatever means, you allowed a vial of deadly poison into the hands of Amrodel’s most dangerous enemy…”
    “I have answered that!” She paused, but her teeth ground together until her jaw ached. “Bruin has no idea how to duplicate my poison – he only obtained a small vial.”
    “Enough, still, to kill a man?”
     She paused. “Yes, if used in its entirety. But the antidote is simple to make from the herbs growing by the forest edge.”
    “By, of course, a method known only to you?”
     Eliana fought anger and tried to remember her purpose. “It is for just this reason that I invited you to this meeting.”
    “You wish to share with me your secrets? In exchange for what?”
     He sounded doubtful. If she betrayed her own intentions… Eliana turned aside, fighting to adopt the humble expression she had practiced in the mirror. Cheeks pursed slightly. Forehead puckered, chin flattened. It hurt, but she managed a semblance, anyway. She turned back. Damir’s dark brow angled in obvious suspicion.
     He motioned to the Mage’s Rock. “Shall we sit?”
     She straightened. The rock had seen many rituals, many great Mages in their most pivotal decisions. Today, it would see the resolution of a troublesome rivalry.
     Eliana sat on the nearest rock before realizing her seat was lower than Damir’s. The elevation served to heighten the disparity in their respective sizes. Damir started to sit, noticed her predicament, then rose again. He looked guileless. Innocent. Humble. “Shall we switch seats, Eliana?”
    “No, thank you. This will be fine.”
     She had to perch on her knees to raise herself up. It was important to meet him eye to eye. A smile flickered on his lips as she adjusted herself.
    “Tell me, Eliana, what have you to offer that might interest me? A tide of darkness encroaches on this land. All in Amrodel have sensed it, even the Mundanes. Its direction lies northeast of here – where the violent Norsk dwell. Among us, only you counsel on their behalf. If you have information concerning the Norsk plans, it would be wise to share it now.”
    “I have no such information, Damir. The Norsk are a mystery to me, as to everyone in Amrodel.”
    “But you do not fear them?”
    “I fear nothing, and no one.” I fear you.
    “You have become a powerful Mage, Eliana. There are some who might say, too powerful.”
    “My strength pales in comparison to your own, Damir. Yet it might be that my own meager talents, combined in some measure with yours, would benefit this land we share, and forestall the darkness that we perceive.” Well done! Perfect, how even her voice remained! She grew tired of living in a land where fate was determined by fear and by weakness, where her people had to be protected by this dark man’s strength, and not her own.
    “This should prove interesting,” replied Damir. He was toying with her. Well, she was toying with him, too.
Her hair eased forward over her shoulder and escaped from beneath her sheer headdress. She seized it with one hand and forced it back. “I will share with you the recipes for potions of both healing and… other uses.”
    “Would that include the concoction that made old Rhys the bard believe himself to be a spider and take to weaving ‘webs’ around the Vale?”
    “A shame it wore off.” She paused, frowning. “The song he devised at my expense was most grating.”
    “Indeed? I rather enjoyed that one.”
     He would, considering it implied she harbored secret and intensely passionate feelings for Damir. Best to change the subject. “I will happily share with you all my potions, Damir.”
     His brow rose in surprise. “And what do you ask of me in return, my lady? The records of my own work, perhaps?”
Eliana ignored his reference to records, since he had once caught her leaving his cottage with the entirety of his scrolls stuffed in a sack. “Only what might be useful in a combined effort at serving our land and our King, of course.”
    “Of course.”
    “I greatly admire your work, Damir. It is a product of your genius, a testament to the grandeur of your father’s great culture.”
    “You flatter me, my lady.”
    “Yes, I might have been... overly zealous in my expression of that admiration, but all those secretive substances, books, curious objects...”
    “It was too much for you to resist.”
     She tried to smile, but only one side of her mouth responded. “I am older now, and wise enough to know that no one Mage can possess every element of our craft. There will always be another who knows more about certain facets.”
     Damir didn’t respond. He watched her, his face revealing nothing of his inner mind. His dark eyes took in all light, and every secret she possessed, yet yielded nothing in return. He was searching for deceit in her eyes. Eliana gathered every portion of her will and met his gaze.
     She lasted a second only. His eyes saw too much. Rather than penetrate his dark soul, she studied his face. He had a broad, intelligent forehead, high cheekbones, a strong, angular chin. His lips were full and crafted, formed easily to a smile. A smile that always seemed to be laughing at her.
    “In exchange for your potion lore, what you offer seems a fair trade. We might learn together what we never would apart.”
    “Quite so.” She hadn’t expected him to acquiesce so easily or so soon. But so much the better. “We would be far better allies than adversaries. If you agree…” She paused. Why was he agreeing this easily? “If you agree, we will meet again and begin the – gradual – opening of our records. That way, if anything should happen to one of us, the records of the other will be safe.”
    “It seems a reasonable suggestion.” Damir started to rise, but slowly, as if teasing her. “Is that the end of our meeting, then?”
    “Not quite.” Eliana gulped and kept her eyes lowered. She felt sure she heard a low chuckle. A lavender dragonfly darted around the glade. It circled one way, then the other, then hovered. Eliana took the dragonfly’s presence as a sign. The moment had come. She seized her pack and withdrew her decanter, then placed it on the rock between them. She set out two silver goblets, but Damir laughed.
    “You don’t expect me to drink that, do you?”
    “This is only my Wine of Truce. We will drink to our alliance...” Damir interrupted her speech with another outburst of laughter. She frowned. “It shall be done as the greatest Elite Mages did of old. As ritual. Nothing more.”
    “My lady, you are queen of devilish brews. Dare I ask what you plan to do to me this time? Shrink me to the size of a newt, perhaps?”
     Eliana clasped her hand to her breast. She had practiced this reaction over and over to get it right, and it came off perfectly. “Damir... I am deeply offended and most grievously shocked that you should doubt my sincerity.” She allowed for a pause while he dried his eyes, then sniffed from his laughter. “I can understand you might have doubts, considering our past association.”
    “A few.”
    “But I assure you, my Wine of Truce poses no threat to your well-being. Here... I shall prove it to you.” Perfect. Her voice was soothing, feminine, that of a woman to be trusted.
     She poured the wine into his glass, then into her own. He would suspect the wine of carrying her concoction. What else? She held her glass to her lips and took a sip. Damir’s eyes never left hers. Had she been so frivolous as to attempt to add her mixture now, he would have caught her.
     Fortunately, she wasn’t frivolous.
     She showed him the half-empty goblet. “Do you see? I drank the wine from my goblet, and no ill has befallen me. Nor will it. Damir, you can trust me. I seek only to unite the two of us in an alliance which will benefit both. A truce.” She paused as Damir idly fingered the rim of his goblet.
     “Drink!”
     Sometimes, it was hard to contain her excitement, and her commanding nature. She quivered as he held his goblet to his lips. He paused, almost as if teasing her. He smiled. He looked young when he smiled.
    “To our alliance, my lady Eliana. May it prove long and fruitful.”

Other Bits:

“Damir! There is no need for rudeness!”
“He's holding an axe at my throat, and I’m rude?”