The Frewyn Herald: Home of the Haanta Series

It is Halloween, which means it is Seamhair in Frewyn, the middle of the autumn High Holidays. Children dress up to confuse spirits, everyone goes for hay rides and cider runs, and some take the opportunity to speak to the royal family, whether they want to be spoken to or not.  S ome of the women from the farms came to speak to the king and wish him and his family a Maith Seamhair, and when they had done with the pleasantries and gave their best wishes to His Majesty with a very good grace, they moved on to the MacDaede portion of the family tree, speaking first to Calleen and Jaicobh, acknowledging Hathanta and Baronous as they passed, and stopping when they reached Boudicca, who was standing a little farther off, beside the table with the other mothers and fathers, content enough to observe the harvest and all its animation rather than participate, but while the other men and women were chuttering away, with their ales and meads and fried batter cakes, Boudicca was standing apart,

Favour of the Gods, the prequel to Baba Connridh, is now available worldwide! Follow the links below for your appropriate region: U.S. Canada Ireland and the U.K.   Germany France  Italy The Netherlands Japan Brazil Spain Australia India The paperback version is available HERE .

The beginning to Favour of the Gods, out this week. Enjoy! E very Gods’ Day morning, when those who can submit to being frightened awake by the skree of starlings and the loom of early morning light pervading open windows, Frewyns from Westren to Diras congregate in their public squares, drawn thither by the plangent call of church bells, to be wished into artlessness and out of reason, corralled into chancels and crowded into naves, for the chance of hearing a few pretty words by unhandsome men about the Gods and Their Honoured Merits. A few hours of monotonous drintling from the Good Book is enough to incite the usual questions of, “Why did I get up this early?” and “Won’t the High Brother get on with it?” and “Sister Aoie sure lookin’ ripe th’day. Wouldn’t say no to a ploughin’, aye?” and after the sermon is given and the congregation proves to have gloried in its wake with languid “Onne Bennath Aconna,” everyone is suddenly up, hastening from the pews to the cenation prepared

Bhi Abhras Menor, by Menor’s Might, is a common Frewyn exclamation, also used in blessings and before performances, and also in the sick chamber, said to wish someone well. Menor is the silent protector of Frewyn, and though he does not show his true form often, when he does summon the Might of the Earth and Mountains, he is an insuperable force.   A horn echoed overhead, and a sheet of snow slid down whence the Brigade marched past.                       “I will leave her with the men who patrol this mountain,” said Menor, looking up, watching the torched burn through the nebulous squall. “They have saved many of Gallia and Uscen’s children. They would not allow this one to die.”                 “None who had found the child could let her die,” Borras asserted.                 “Frannach would.”                              A hard look was exchanged.                 “He might take her to Our Father,” said Borras, “but he would not willingly harm a young child.” A coy