Dee Harrison was brought
up in Nottingham, England, on the tales of Robin Hood and Sherwood Forest. From
that came an abiding love for all things Medieval so she went on to read
History at Nottingham University. The myths and legends of the period fascinated
her and she decided to create her own. Thus was the Firelord's Legacy born.
Dee's latest series, Mirrorsmith, a taste of which can be found in Fusion, is
quite different, however. She is not a fan of spiders so she made them the
villains.
Dee has also had articles and essays on Medieval History published in journals.
The Firelord’s Crown
Raethwin, the Red Witch,
perhaps the greatest sorceress of her era. She sought to save her world,
instead she doomed it. The Firelord's Crown, source of her untold power. It
brought about the impending disaster but Tamilin, Master Healer and Seer,
believes it might also prove their salvation. There's just one problem. Two
thousand years ago Raethwin's six companions fled when their homeland was
destroyed and divided the Firelord's Crown between them.
Five made it to safety -
the sixth ship and its precious heirloom vanished. Tamilin believes that it may
lie far in the uncharted north and dispatches an expedition in search of it.
Airen, a young healer and lone survivor of the venture, reaches the land called
Dinith, where he hopes to find the lost piece. Dinith, however, is a land in
turmoil. Magic is forbidden, the glories of the past forgotten. Airen and his
quest are not welcome but could Falath, the king's heir, be the ally that he
desperately craves? Perhaps, but Falath, descendant of the Lost Ship, has his
own secrets...
The Firelord's Crown. An epic tale of magic and adventure. Harper Collins
Authonomy gold medallist.
The heart of this fast-paced, enthralling, sword-and-sorcery fantasy story is
the search for a missing piece of a legendary crown but it also explores the
complex relationships between Prince Falath; Rollo, his kinsman and protector;
Airen, the outsider, bringer of mystery and magic; Lady Maristan, daughter of a
heretic lord burned for his beliefs that there are other people in the world
beyond the mountains. They each journey not only to find the segment of the
Firelord's Crown but also to discover how best to be true to their own natures.
Excerpt
Falath walked slowly into the leaden morning air and Rollo stepped
closer to the rail, ignoring the acid pain shooting through his upper arm. Even
from this distance the Talorian's keen sight showed his kinsman's face to be
strained and pale. Falath faltered in the strong light but then he straightened
and continued his progress with a regal bearing few would have guessed him to
possess. He was garbed in a simple robe of penitential yellow, girt at the
waist by a cord, and his arms loosely bound behind him. His head was bare and
on his brow the witchmark was plain for all to see.
"It’s not too late to save him," Malglint hissed into Rollo’s
ear, his hand stroking the warriors fingers. "Even now he could be
reprieved."
Rollo refused to acknowledge the earl's existence. Malglint breathed in
sharply. "Very well, keep your precious honour and let him be
damned!"
The crowd had fallen silent at the prince's approach and the earl's
unmistakeable voice carried out into the square. Many of those nearest to the
balcony and around the wooden podium stared upwards, puzzled by these words,
and saw for the first time the duress under which the Lord of Chanon was being
held. Clearly he was not the willing participant in the day's affair they had
been led to believe. An undercurrent of suspicion pulsed outwards in slow
ripples and, by the time Falath reached the steps at the side of the stage,
there were positive signs of discontent among those closest to him. Sensing
this, Greyildin bound onto the platform and hauled his prisoner up before
any-one could contemplate preventing him. Falath was chained to the central
post, the bundles of faggots rearranged around his feet and lower legs.
The press of Sunonim surged forwards at this, forcing the warriors back
against the wooden stage. Greyildin glared uneasily at Malglint, feeling
isolated and exposed to an increasingly hostile mob. He had argued in favour of
a private execution and the wisdom of that counsel now seemed justified. He
looked to Malglint for guidance but the earl signalled him to continue and,
with some reluctance, he drew out the writ of execution from beneath his
cuirass. In a clear voice he intoned the ritual formula.
"Insofar as Falath Urien Gwillan Dorior, formerly deemed prince of
this realm, has been accused of witchery and other foul arts, and insofar as by
decree of Council and by true evidence of the Stone of Judgement he has been
found guilty of the aforesaid crimes then, in accordance with the Law, his life
is declared forfeit. For that, and for the wellbeing and mortification of his
soul, he will suffer the prescribed punishment, death by burning. Let all who
hear take heed!"
Greyildin rolled up the scroll and handed it to one of the black-garbed
attendants in exchange for a blazing torch. He saluted Malglint with the brand
then reached out to touch it to the tinder.
It never connected.
From the rear of the press a single arrow whistled through the air and
pierced Greyildin's unprotected throat. He toppled from the platform, gurgling
disbelief as blood filled his mouth. The torch extinguished itself in a muddy
pool beside him.
"Good people of Sunon," cried a bass voice into the shocked
silence. "Tis I, Tolferon, rightful Commander of this city, who speaks.
You have been lied to and deceived. The prince is no sorcerer; it’s a trick of
the Earl of Keldheim to rob us of our king. Quickly now, help us free him and
take revenge on our enemies," and the armour-girt figure of the Commander
ploughed through the petrified ranks on a black destrier, nudging towards the
wooden stage. Behind him, likewise mounted, came the loyal Sunonim guardsmen,
seeking to surround the square and cut off the retreat of the renegades and
housecarls. Slowly, all too slowly, the crowd reacted and allowed the newcomers
to pass through them. Malglint, however, was not bound by such restriction.
Cursing, he leapt to the rail and screamed down at Greyildin's stultified
attendants.
"Talian! Rargis! Complete the execution order! I, Malglint, so
command it," and, fearing the earl's wrath more than the crowd, the two
men grabbed up the remaining torches from the brazier and thrust them into the
kindling. Despite the damp sheen on the twigs the fire took an immediate hold.
A circle of flame erupted around Falath's feet. Cries of despair went up from
those closest to the stage. Several foolhardy youths leapt up onto the platform
and tried to knock the burning faggots away but the searing heat beat them
back.
Malglint, countenance blazing as fiercely as the pyre, turned in triumph
on Rollo.
"Too late! Too late, the deed is done. No-one can save him
now." Malglint’s hand snaked out and he crushed the other to the rail.
"If you have a last word for him say it now," he hissed and,
horrified, Rollo watched the flames began to lick towards Falath's feet, the
pale robes already blistering with scorch marks. Plumes of white smoke smarted
into Rollo's eyes. Their plan had failed. Tolferon was still too far away to
save their prince.
From the centre of the swelling furnace Falath raised his own tormented
eyes to meet those of his kinsman. Before the smoke and flames engulfed him, he
mouthed a single, silent 'farewell!' then the roar and crack of the tortured
timber drowned everything in its fury.
Behind the Scenes
Is there a word or phrase
you catch yourself overusing?
I seem to ‘lurch’ a lot
seemingly.
Are you a Swooper (write
first, edit later,) a Basher (edit each sentence as you go,) or both?
I write a few sentences
then go back and re-write parts until they ‘sound’ right. When I have written a
chapter, I go back several chapters and work through to the part I’m on, to
make sure it all flows together, and so on.
What is the one thing you must
have to be able to write?
I like to have music in
the background.
What are you currently
working on? How is it different from other books you’ve written?
My WIP is not just fantasy
but a multi-world sci-fi. I’m planning it as a one-off rather than part of a
long-running series.
Do you feel there is
anything the market is oversaturated with right now?
I tend to yawn when I come
across another vampire/werewolf tale.
How do you feel about the
term “Mommy Porn”?
Hmm, I just think other
publishers have jumped on the Mills and Boon bandwagon a little late.
What do you feel are the
most important aspects to a good romance?
The reader has to feel
sympathy with the main character, believe they could be them.
Are you always in the
driver’s seat? Or do your characters drag you along for the ride?
I have an idea where I am
going but I’m always prepared for the characters to have their own agenda too.
Lightning Round
Die Hard or Terminator: Die Hard
Dirt Road or City Skyline: Dirt road
Steak or Chicken: chicken
Rock or Country Music: rock
Beer or Wine: wine
