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Finally, leading a diverse team of individuals, Jeanne and Tom her new husband, secretly married at Gretna Green, cross into the world of the Tirnano.

The Battle begins...
AD 1215.
The sword wrenched from her hands, floating in the air it blazed into dazzling blue life, with an appalling scream the shadow of Meinrad flowed like smoke, sucked into the sword. The huge blade fell to the floor with a crash. Mira moved to pick it up.
“Touch it not Mädchen,” Adalstan gasped, his throat torn where Darcia had pierced him with her talons, the blood oozing through his fingers as he endeavoured to stem the flow. “I shall retrieve it.” He shuffled on his knees to the blade, and lifting it gently as one would a wounded companion, twisted the blade and placed the flat against the torn skin of his neck. With a low moan he fell on his back. The sword wrought its magic, flaring once again, and in that instant repairing his wounds.
Mira was no longer able to handle the blade, for now its former inhabitant resided within. Re-instating the curse, allowing it, on pain of death, only to be grasped by those through who coursed the blood of the line of Baron Albert von Felden, Count of Livonia.
The Purple Queen of the M’ntar, smoke roiling from her mouth, roared once more. A searing blast of flame spewed across the gap towards Darcia. The last remaining Stirgoi queen threw up her arms in an attempt to protect herself, screaming, she recoiled, scuttling backwards across the cave floor flames flowing around her body. With a final howl of despair she capitulated, falling to the ground and rolling herself into the foetal position.
Mira passed Adalstan the sword’s sheath, through his darkening consciousness he recognized his body servant.
“Rolf, is that you?” he croaked.
“It is I Lord, yet my name is Mira.” She bowed her head.
Staggering to his feet, the front of his riding jacket smeared in gore; with his eyes wide he chanced a fearful glance at the massive bulk of the Purple Queen, “From whence comes your fearsome acquaintance?”
“This is Queen Alushamanta of the M’ntar, my dearest companion, Lusha. Let us away from this evil creature’s domicile,” she peered through the darkness to where the Stroigoi Queen lay, “Baron, I shall return with you to the Feldlager.”
Mira stepped to the Baron as he staggered; taking hold of his arm to steady him.
“Come Lord,” she said gently.
With a crack of imploding air, the three disappeared.

Book Three of The Tirnano The Purple Queen -- The Saga continues

Seek the Babe with Brother One
Honour the Brother with his Blade of Souls
Worship the Mother with her Shield of Stars
Remember the Knight with Demons Dead
Respect them all - for all are One

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