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This is an excerpt from "The Tales of Tanglewood: The Curse of Satyr Stump", the second novel in the Tanglewood series. You can download the first three chapters of both the first and second books from the Tales of Tanglewood website

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Excerpt: "The Tales of Tanglewood: The Curse of Satyr Stump"

Just above the bushes and brambles, a bulbous formation of wood formed the cap of the stump. Two pointed knobs protruded further from the brow of the rounded top. There was no mistaking them for anything else but horns, atop what could only be the head of the cursed Fionn.

Colin now knew of course that he had chosen to flee the area in the wrong direction. Although he was suitably frightened to suddenly find himself in such close proximity to the stump, he was also unable to turn away from the amazing, intriguing sight. (Or was he once again being magically held captive against the will of his own mind, under the control of Fionn’s subtle call?)

As Colin stood immobile before the stump, there was no doubting that a transformation was rapidly taking place.

Solid and sturdy, the suggested figure hidden within the contours of the stump was a particularly fearsome sight. It was a nightmare that had yet to assume true form, poised just on the other side of sleep’s thin border.

The head that had been nearly faceless only moments ago, weathered smooth by years of wind and rain, now exhibited impressions of brooding eyes and a mouth grit in agony.

The upper portion of the stump had resembled the smooth, gray bark of a beech tree, but the dull pallor had now deepened to a healthier flesh tone. Partially hidden by the undergrowth, the lower portion of the satyr’s body was a twisted, malformed mass of wood, separating into what Colin imagined were once the satyr’s legs. These further branched off into thick roots that penetrated the ground.

Another stalk of wood that sprouted from the left side of the stump was revealed to be a muscular arm, clasped closely to the satyr’s side.

On the head of the stump, an eye opened. The transmutation fixed its reddish-yellow pupil directly upon Colin.

There was a sound like a heavy branch creaking in the wind. The limb that stretched over the pathway was unfurling its fingers.

Colin had at last seen enough. He attempted to run, but an angry voice pierced his mind like a hot needle lancing his flesh, causing him to cry out.

Hold!

Colin was frozen stiff, but this time it was not by his own fear, but rather by magic that had been cast upon him by the awakening satyr. He could not cry out, nor could he turn his head away. He was a captive witness to the unfolding metamorphosis.

Along the body of the stump-creature, slabs of bark were cracking and flaking. They broke loose and fell away, revealing flesh beneath. A light coating of fur covered the brawny satyr, growing in thicker patches along its back and forearms.

The satyr’s mouth opened, and it exhaled a cloud of dust and stale air. It turned its head toward the boy, revealing that its second eye was also open. The satyr’s steady gaze was ominous.

The cursed thing raised its right arm away from its body as more pieces of bark crumbled away. Ripping away the brambles that encircled its body, the satyr made a sound like a bellowing goat and abruptly lurched forward, though clearly with some difficulty. Its strong legs remained rooted to the ground by thick tubers. The satyr had to forcefully tear his feet away from the earth, straining to tear the roots that still grew forth from his calves and ankles, just above the hooves.

Despite the strength of the Sahwen magic that pervaded the ‘wood, the curse upon Fionn had not been completely excised. The satyr’s skin appeared rather rough, and all the bark had not completely fallen away. Thick patches of it flourished along the satyr’s forearms and knees, and knobby growths of wood trailed the length of its spine.

The satyr stumbled forth from the undergrowth. Colin observed a new mass of tiny roots slowly emerging from beneath the skin of the satyr’s ankles. They probed the air like small serpents and angled for the ground, seeking to burrow into the earth and return the satyr to its cursed state.

But the roots were tiny and weak; certainly they were no match for a mighty satyr tasting freedom once more after spending another achingly long year as a motionless stump. Fionn steadied himself against a nearby tree, and managed to shamble forward. The satyr’s gait was awkward. His body was twisting somewhat unnaturally with each step, as though it were still trying to form the semblance of a tree against the satyr’s will. But Fionn was the stronger one today, and his resilience would not be bested.

Colin suddenly realized that the voice of the satyr that had penetrated his mind was gone. He chanced moving his head and hands, and found that the enchantment that had seized his body had also been dispelled.

Able to move freely again, Colin backed away from the slowly advancing satyr. He was still suitably panicked, but he was now also equally curious. Every instinct screamed to run, but because of the apparent difficulty the satyr exhibited when walking, Colin thought he should be able to escape Fionn rather easily should the satyr decide to come after him. Still, he preferred to remain a cautious distance away from the beast.

Fionn’s brow furrowed as the boy moved. “You will heed my call, gille!”

Colin shook his head and continued his retreat.

“Do not move!” the satyr growled.

For every awkward step the satyr took, Colin matched it with two more.

“Bloody boy, would you leave me to suffer, as all others have?”

The statement was odd, and caused Colin to slow his pace.

“Stay there,” he said, signaling for the satyr to halt. “I’ll hear what you have to say, but you can’t command me!”

The satyr’s expression became as hard as stone. “Command you? A boy no older than a sapling?”

Fionn forced himself to rise to his full height and managed to quell his wavering legs.

“I once commanded Cinneadh Luan, The Tribe of the Moon. Proud and strong, masters of the hunt and weavers of song. Cinneadh Luan was a tribe worthy of my command.”

Fionn narrowed his eyes and pointed at Colin with a long, twig-like finger. “You have not earned the right to be commanded by me!”

The Tales of Tanglewood:
The Curse of Satyr Stump

Colin, Blood of the Fey, returns to Tanglewood shortly before Sahwen night, a time when the magic of the 'wood has a strange effect on all things within it. Things have entered the ‘wood that should not be there, and the pathways are no longer safe.

The blackberries have spoiled, a pooka roams the ‘wood, and a strong calling pulls Colin close to Satyr Stump, where Fionn the satyr has been cursed by Grainne, the Grey Lady.

Tasked to face the dark druidess and help break the curse upon Fionn, Colin seeks help from the druid Bairtlemead Muffingrow, the ferrish Ailfrid, and the elfin girl Deidre. But it will be the satyr chieftain himself who joins Colin, seeking to help restore another piece of Tanglewood that has been claimed by deiney corruption.

But the Grey Lady will not yield so easily, and Colin and Fionn are both nearly powerless in her domain. Colin learns very quickly that during Sahwen, Tanglewood can be a very dangerous place indeed.

Sahwen is the Gaelic pronunciation of Halloween, which is actually spelled "Samhain."

Find out more about the Tales of Tanglewood at www.talesoftanglewood.com

I'd like to invite everyone to download the first three chapters of "The Tales of Tanglewood: The Lon Dubh Whistle" - a fantasy adventure lightly influenced by Irish folklore & Celtic mythology.

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Find out more about the book at www.talesoftanglewood.com

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