In the hot seat today is Aussie author S.E. Gilchrist. Let’s not muck around, we’ll dive straight into the tough questions…
RC: Name your fantasy menage combination
SE: Chris Hemsworth, Johnny Depp, Vin Diesel
RC: What five items would you take if you had to get out of your house in 5 mins or less
SE: My kids, my dogs, my usb sticks, my photos & my glasses (so I could see where the hell I’m going)
RC: Describe your writing in 3 words
SE: Dramatic, exciting and sexy
RC: If you won the lottery, what would be the first thing you’d buy for yourself?
SE: A new car – trust me, the only thing holding this one together is the crappy paint job.
RC: Imagine you had a time machine—oh let’s just call it a Tardis. What time period would you travel to and why?
SE: I’d travel into the future with the hope we would have conquered space travel to other galaxies.
RC: Favorite comic book superhero
SE: The Phantom
RC: If you could kiss any fictional hero from history, who would it be?
RC: Do you prefer a hairy or smooth chest?
SE: Smooth and oiled ????
RC: Best writing advice ever received
SE: Keep writing and try to write every day.
A big thanks to SE for sitting down with the Divas today.
You can find out all about her and her books over on her website http://www.segilchrist.com/
After trudging in the footsteps of the Fomorian army, Aileen longs to have a home of her own far from the horrors of war. She will do anything to achieve her goal. Even lie to the kin and people of her newly deceased husband. But lies are nothing, compared with drugging a pixie king and stealing his memory … and his seed.
Ioducas, king of the river pixies, reined in his white stallion and rested his hands on the pommel of his ornate saddle. Golden warmth from the late Beltane sun bathed the cultivated fields of wheat, rye and oats that spread in rich orderly rows over the sloping land. The crops stretched into the distance, ending at the wide ditch that surrounded the hill fort, Tranelleon. Overhead, swallows dipped and soared into the cloudless, blue sky with a graceful flurry of wings.
A whistle escaped his lips while Ioducus stared with considerable astonishment at the changes wrought over the past full turns of seasons.
“I see the passing of the stewardship into the control of another since the death of young Robat of Tranellean has proved to be a blessing for the people and the lands. Clear before us stands evidence of hard work and prosperity,” he said to his lieutenant who had kneed his horse forward until the charges stood side by side, tails swishing. Ioducus swept a hand out, the jewelled rings adorning his fingers flashed, red, green, blue and dazzling white in the mid afternoon sun’s rays.
Lotic, who had been his right-hand man ever since Ioducus could remember, grunted and tugged on his braided, brown beard in a thoughtful manner. He said, “Do you know who holds office in the hall?”
“Nay, but I assume Robat’s kinsman would be the man.” Ioducas shared a look with his second in command. “It is possible a pixie would not be given a grand reception. Especially for one such as I….one of the main instigators of the carnage that caused Plover’s Fields to run red with spilled blood of both our people and mortal men.”
“A while ago now,” rumbled Lotic in his deep voice.
“Aye, but pain takes no account of the passing of the seasons.”
“Then we had best be on our guard. I’d be happier if you would allow me to split our men into two squads. Leave a party beyond the ditch in case our reception is a wee bit hostile.”
Ioducas slid a finger over his moustache and grinned. “Tsk, tsk, Lotic, I am sure once we have speech, the new steward will see reason.”
Lotic hunched his shoulders beneath the leather straps that bound his breast plate and muttered, “Aye, and one day, your honeyed tongue will no more sweeten your speech and then, where will we be?”
Ioducas laughed. “Always with the warning, Lotic. My charm has yet to fail.”
His steed tossed its head as if in agreement and snorted setting the silver bells woven into its braided mane tinkling with merry song. Ioducas raised his hand again, and urged his mount forward, his contingent of pixie horsemen following close on his horse’s hooves. Lotic, muttering dire predictions, rode, as ever, at his side.
Aye, his charm was legendary especially where the wenches were concerned, but for all the many maids who flung themselves at his feet, none saw nor truly loved, the man beneath the crown. Aye, he flirted and was ever courteous to everyone but only Lotic knew how few Ioducus actually took to his bed. The saddle creaked when he shifted his weight pushing his booted feet forward in the stirrups. His mouth turned down.
Plague take this malady!
If he were not tormented by fragments of what he at first had thought to be merely dreams; dreams which had woken him sweating and needy in the cold reaches of the night, he would not have lengthened this expedition into a full season’s odyssey. His teeth ground together and a slash of sharp pain sliced into his temple.
Nay, he was certain it was no fantasy that haunted him. No spell either. For there were none living that could weave such a spell over the king of the river pixies. Not now.
Nay, it must be memories. But of whom?
With effortless ease Ioducas sent a silent message to his mount and the animal slowed its pace to a gentle amble, although it shook its head and chaffed at the bit, eager to reach a stable with bountiful oats and hay. He ignored his friend’s sharp glance and smoothed a hand down the horse’s neck and it quietened. His stallion wasn’t the only one eager to reach journey’s end.
Ioducas glared at the straight, rock paved road; a road that only a few years ago resembled a muddy, boggy track. He had re-traced every path, every road, re-visited every village he had ever passed through and sought out every wench in an attempt to solve the puzzle. All to no avail no matter how pretty the females or how willing they were to lay with him. Yet he had resisted all, for none had fitted the shadowy figure that flittered in and out of his mind.
And perhaps it was possible, that somewhere he would find the one who could lift the curse inflicted on him at birth by his father’s bitter ex-lover. Hence his easy acquiescence to his daughter, Teelah’s, urgent request to travel to Tranelleon Fort and ensure the safety of her husband’s sister. A matter Domhnall would have fulfilled himself, if not concerned with the forth-coming birth of their second child.
Lotic would no doubt relish spouting forth with more of the warnings and suspicions of foul play he had moaned constantly about, since their boats had grounded on the mortal isle should Ioducus speak of his troubled dreams. Hence he had kept his own counsel.
He would find the cause, deliver any punishment he deemed fit for this troublesome affliction and return to his island home.
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