Lost in 1999, Roulic races to find a portal back to Everlan. Discovering the witches of Doth living in a California mansion, he meets the fated mortal, Lilith. The new world is exciting but his heart yearns for home, and his destiny with Ravenna.
After a dragon egg is found on Catalina Island, returning it to the dragon’s lair in Old Everlan becomes complicated. And deadly. Mayem conjures the ghosts of Onan, vowing to destroy Roulic, seize the Pearlytok, and transport dragons into the future world.
Lost in 1999, Roulic races to find a portal back to Everlan. Discovering the witches of Doth living in a California mansion, he meets the fated mortal, Lilith. The new world is exciting but his heart yearns for home, and his destiny with Ravenna.
After a dragon egg is found on Catalina Island, returning it to the dragon’s lair in Old Everlan becomes complicated. And deadly. Mayem conjures the ghosts of Onan, vowing to destroy Roulic, seize the Pearlytok, and transport dragons into the future world.
Mayem hit the foggy beach, running. No stranger to a portal dive, his rebound rivaled a fox's. Yet his graceful gait slowed, then stalled, giving in to the Ancient’s old injury. He cursed his wound, a nasty singe inflicted by a young dragon named Baby. The telling scar wrapped around his right heel, leaving the Ancient in agonizing pain and shoeless for a year. At first, he took the burn as a reminder of the futility of raising an infant dragon. But this, he grew to refute, as it only hounded his ongoing woe: that of her utter rejection. Now, alone in a foreign land, he had no way of getting back to Doth without the portal key. And so he kept moving, hopping like a feral gray fox.
This barren shore has no people to plunder, no fishers, no nets, nothing. If only I had taken the key from Roulic. It would have brought me someplace pristine, like Gadbanti's island. I've got to get back to my island; Dandling Oars. But how?
A plastic water bottle grounded by the tide rolled over the beach. He read the soggy label: Please recycle.
Nothing but refuse littering the sea!
Mayem dropped and stepped on it, squishing the bottle with his boot until it was buried in the sand.
Damn that Roulic! I’m going to step on him and crush his skull. Rip out his heart. Dance over his body. Take the Pearlytok from his hands. We’ll see how long it takes before he does something he shouldn’t. He’s no saint. Just like his father. A failed do-gooder.
Nearing a line of waterfront homes, his head stayed low, obsessing his predicament. He trudged along the beach like a caught fugitive, reluctant to inhabit his cell.
I’ve no future here. I’d have to start all over. I’ll be a prisoner unless I get that key. Damn him to Doth.
Because of the fog, he couldn't see the cargo tankers on the horizon or the jets taking off from Long Beach Airport. Had he been able to see the island thirty-one miles offshore, he might have realized he'd been to this future world before. Nothing registered until he heard the jangle of keys. It came from hands unlocking a back gate. He stopped, studying the corner house, and his next victim.
“You’re not supposed to be here!” the old man growled. “This is a private beach.” Mayem’s pitchy eyes went from vacant to icy, staring at the man’s home.
“I’m sorry I’ve trespassed. Forgive me,” Mayem said. “Could you find it in your heart to bring me a glass of water? I’ve a terrible thirst.”
“No! Now, get off my property or I’ll call the police. It’s bums like you who ruined this beach years ago.” The old man slammed the gate, dropping his lock and keys into a planter beside the fence. He bent over to retrieve them. Mayem kicked sand, bolting over the beach. He shoved the gate open, knocking the man into the bushes.
“Get up! Give me those keys. And get inside. I’m your lord now,” he sneered at the old man struggling to stand. “And I’ll have that water now,” he flouted, revealing a horrific smile. The man hobbled through his patio garden to the kitchen door. Drops of blood smeared his hands and the back of his balding head.
“That’s better,” Mayem said, drinking the man’s water, “but courtesy won’t make you live any longer. What else have you for me!?” He left the kitchen for the living room.
“I’ve got money. Lots of money. It’s in my safe. You can have it all,” the old man pleaded, “please take it and go.”
Mayem commanded from the sofa: “Go get it. Bring it to me now. I’ve not got all day.”
The old man returned with a walrus hide valise full of cash. Mayem licked his lips, unimpressed with the quivering hands stacking green notes on the coffee table.
“Have you no gold?” Mayem grilled.
“This is all the money I’ve got. It’s my life savings,” the old man trembled.
“Don’t count on currency saving your life,” Mayem raged. He jeered at an easel standing by a wide window lined with oil tubes, overlooking the ocean. “What’s this? Have we an artist? A painter of the sea? Well then, let’s see what you can do.”
“Why are you doing this to me?” the old man shuddered, his anguished eyes teary.
“Let’s just call it my daemon’s whimsy, shall we?” Mayem’s eyes rolled back.
He leaped to the window, and the paintbrushes kept in a cup by the easel. Grabbing the longest brush in the cup, he stroked the blank canvas.
“How ‘bout I paint you?” Making sure the old man could see him, Mayem turned, holding the brush in his palm like a dagger. The man gasped. His eyes never left Mayem’s back. “Let’s see, I’ll need plenty of red,” he taunted. The man crossed his hands over his heart in agony. Mayem howled, then spun around screaming, “Have you any red??!!” But he turned too late. The old man lay slumped on the carpet, having died from fright.
“I didn’t think so.” Mayem threw the brush in the dead man’s lap. An hour later, he got giddy drinking the painter’s scotch, amusing himself by flicking every light switch in the house. But that mood went dark after tinkering with the old man's stereo record player. Turning up the volume of Frank Sinatra's crooning amplified his private agony; the shunning of his brother Meyrick's late wife, the beautiful Ancient, Grace.
“Her rejection has damned my soul more than any act for which I’ll ever be damned!” he broached.
Drunk at the easel, he played ballads by candlelight, painting grotesque portraits of her. Stupefied in self-pity, he wallowed, venting from his ruined heart.
"If only I could undraw the soul birthed in black rain,
I’d forget the unspoken name, long since uttered on the battered banks of the world’s pain
The seasons I’ve endured, can’t measure the value of her comely company; an imperishable paint,
brushing this wanton heart, mislaid unto today, yet
her soft edge remains, forever faint beneath the stain of my endless shame
And so I chase her winded cries, with a lean and yellowing tint,
swipe fading stars in the desert’s diamond glint
My utmost lament; my unrequited folly
And dying, never again held by the heart who colored over
my black canvas in the rain.."
He passed out at the easel. Fine-woven showers crept over the lightless ocean, pattering against the old man’s beach house window.
***
In the autumn of his youth, Roulic vanished. He fell over a waterfall on Dandling Oars Island. No one dreamed of his descent, not even the witches of Doth. Had he not fallen, he might have ambushed and killed the abominator at the island’s citadel, or even at the Edge where it all happened; Mayem’s watery playground of torture. Both Ancients fought there for Doth's golden portal key, the Pearlytok. And both fell, lost in the Master's magical hatch hidden in the roaring falls.
Now, after surviving the liquid portal, Roulic knew he’d clash with Mayem again. He could feel it in his bones. He just couldn’t feel his leg. But a numb leg didn’t stop him from sitting upright on the unknown beach. He got busy testing the sleeping appendage. Pinching his right limb brought no response. So, he waited until a wave crashing on the sand made his left leg twitch twice. In the din and quiver he thought he heard the flock of herring gulls over his head, squawking:
“Get on your feet, Mayem’s coming!”
“I can’t, until I feel my leg,” he grumbled at the gulls. He looked left and right for Mayem, wiggling a toe.
I’ve got to get back on my feet, he thought. He kept pinching and wiggling, urging the blood in his heart and head to meet in his leg. When it did, he licked his lips. "Salty…," his sandy hand clutching the cool gold of the sacred key.
“I’m alive!” he testified to a disapproving jury of shore walkers. Their glaring verdict stung in the ocean air. He pivoted, pocketing the key. “At least I kept Mayem from it,” he proclaimed to their head juror. He had received that silent sentence a thousand times as a young orphan: the pitiful looks given to the homeless and hungry. “If you only knew where I’ve come from,” he shook his fist at their taciturn backs, rattling his enchanted bracelet.
It tinkled, as it did the day Alison gave Ravenna its matching necklace. He cupped and jingled the gifted charms with a wishful hand. She’ll hear me and get me back to Doth.
“Ravenna!” He squeezed his wrist, shaking the bracelet in vain. “Ravenna, are you there? It’s me, Roulic.” He rose, shaking off the sand. “Nothing. I suppose even a witch’s talisman could fail when thrown into another realm,” he said, sadly.
His vest pockets were still wet from his fall with Mayem from the Edge. Digging in, he tallied a palmful of coins, bits of tobacco, and a wet, wrinkled map of Doth. The fall's finality also cut off all sight of Ravenna's longing eyes. Eyes he lived for and would die for.
I guess I’m not in Doth anymore. Damn Mayem for all he’s done. Mayem! His neck spun. He rose, scanning the beach in every direction. Mayem wasn’t there, but a congested, two-lane highway ran alongside the coast, carrying strange horseless carriages. Some paused at a stoplight. Most sped by. His mouth opened when the signal changed color from red to green. He understood the system, but couldn’t fathom what powered the lights and cars.
Between the beach and the busy road lay a wide wooden boardwalk bordering a 100-foot-wide park of bright green grass. He passed the boardwalk sign: Main Beach. People lounged on towels and beach chairs, watching their children play in the water. Some picnicked, some sat on benches, reading. Others napped in the mid-morning sun. Two gray-bearded men played chess. A shirtless, ponytailed surfer stood over them, engrossed in the game.
Well, at least I’ve landed in a place of learned citizens. But where have I landed? Nothing here resembles the villages of Doth.
At the end of the boardwalk, a lively court game was taking place. Two-man teams bounced a big orange ball and ran it to the far end of the court. They rallied around a netted hoop attached to a backboard set on a 7-foot steel pole. One man jumped, dunking the ball through the hoop. A cheery crowd of spectators clapped and clamored.
“Do you like basketball?” A scraggly-faced beggar loomed in, catching Roulic off guard. He jumped back from the dirty cloak, ready to defend himself. The beggar jumped back as well, creating a safe space between the two. Realizing the man meant no harm, Roulic lowered his arms. “Who wouldn’t like basketball? A better game this world has never known.”
“Don’t tell that to a football fan.” The disheveled man laughed and walked away. The Ancient One wandered, unwilling to show his ignorance.
I shouldn’t trust just anyone, he thought. If only Demeter or Jillian were here. They would help me get back to Doth. The witches understand the secrets of traveling through portals better than anybody. Except maybe, Mayem. He scanned the boardwalk nervously.
Roulic destroyed what Mayem spent centuries killing for. He also carried the portal key and the love of Mayem's niece, Ravenna, the Divine of Doth. It was in Ravenna’s suffrage that Mayem sought to seize the dragon power passed to her from her mother, Grace. At least that’s what the evil uncle told himself when he cursed his niece at the Bridge of Belief in Everlan.
No, Roulic thought, set on fulfilling his second obligation to the witch, Aurora, to break Mayem’s curse. I must first return the Pearlytok to King Vim at Trumbleton in the Inner Realm of Doth.
I’ve already restored the Divine of Doth,—delivered her home. Next comes the key. …Aurora said, “Regarding your third and final challenge; commit a selfless deed of dire consequence, the act of which includes the engagement of Death.” But haven’t I already honored this request on more than one occasion? How many times must I face death?
I’ve got to get back to Ravenna. See my family again. I’ll need a portal to get back to Trumbleton. But what if there are none here? And where to find one if there are? Now that I’ve got the key, I’ve no clue how to use it. It won’t be so easy without the witches guiding me. Connecting with the witches here might prove impossible. But I’ve got to try. His mind rattled. Is this a remote future—or some distant past? I need a safe place to regroup until I can find a way back to Doth.
Music playing snapped him out of his head. Three girls sang a ballad broadside, reminding him of Raine, Jillian, and Marlee. Two played guitars, accompanied by a wind instrument that shone like the Pearlytok. Ten feet up the boardwalk, a blissful blonde woman with an easel painted a beach scene. Ravenna would enjoy this sunny society, he thought.
Endless streams of cars drove past the idyllic park. Still no horses! The technological culture shock tapped at his cheeks, begging him to be wary. He told himself: Remain an observer in this strange place. So, noticing a group of young women come off the beach wearing what appeared to be nothing more than tight, colored underclothes, he observed them much longer than he probably should have. Even for innocent bathing sports, scanty beach apparel was unheard of in 1699. His long curiosity earned more than one harsh look from the bikini clad group. They shamed him off the boardwalk and onto the sidewalk.
After the crosswalk light turned green, he followed a small crowd. They scattered into the art galleries and eateries along Forest Avenue. He dared himself to enter the Candy Baron, where barrels brimmed with saltwater taffy. What heavenly aromas! He sniffed the cherry, apple, and maple barrels. His mouth watered. He passed the raspberry, grape, rum, orange, peppermint, pear, and pomegranate. The banana barrel, irresistible. Watermelon, mango, licorice, and coconut, bypassed to smell the mysterious key lime. Catching him elbow-deep in the bubble-gum barrel, a flinty voice summoned him.
“You need to use a basket,” she said, looking at his condition, “so we can weigh your taffy at the checkout.” A small woven wooden basket found its way into his hands.
“Yes. Of course, please forgive me. It seems my sweet tooth preceded my manners.” She glanced at him with a look of disdain, prompting his exit from the shop. Spotting his haggard reflection in a window, he recalled the tatterdemalion from the boardwalk.
This won’t do. He ran across Forest Avenue, back toward the beach. Hurrying past a pub, he halted. A news shop's outdoor display stopped him. The wall of colorful magazines hit him all at once. Racks of wild animals, glamorous fashion, gourmet food, guns, guitars, and gadgetry. But he refrained from scrutiny, rushing to round the corner. He hustled in front of the ice cream shop and passed the movie theater, stopping at the corner gas station on the coastal highway. Too many people, I gotta keep moving, gotta get cleaned up, wash my face. Cars parked at the station, drivers outside each vehicle, each car with a hose connected to a pump. So that’s how they power them. Noting the fueling process, he jaywalked across Broadway Street, stopping in front of a window display. That's nothing new. A timeless tool. The sight of an ordinary shovel eased him. He entered the hardware store, knowing it would hold useful and strange items.
Power saws, clocks, lawnmowers. Modern nails. 20th-century innovations. So much under one roof. He looked up. How is this light emitting from ceiling fixtures? What powers the street lights? The lights on the coaches? Blood left his brain. Living nine centuries among the mortals of Doth, he thought he’d seen everything. He left, circling the block, lightheaded, before catching a whiff of rich vanilla pipe tobacco. The familiar aroma triggered welcome thoughts of Doth's hearty folk and rugged countryside.
Finally, a familiar place. The room enveloped his nervous system. Inside the quiet smoke shop a stout man enjoyed a robusto cigar at a table for two. A chocolate crocodile skin attache case occupied the chair to his right.
“Do you mind? I’ve come a long way and need to sit, if just for a moment,” Roulic said. The man accommodated, setting his case on the side of his chair.
“A long way can do that,” the man agreed.
Roulic tried to ignore his anxiety by watching passersby through the shop’s window. Double-checking his vest and coat pockets revealed that his beloved pipe, marked with an "R," was gone.
“It must have fallen out of my vest when I fell into the falls with Mayem,” he inadvertently recounted aloud, puzzling the man.
Aside from Alison's charmed bracelet, the pipe was all Roulic had of his beloved Ravenna. The thought of never seeing her again saddened him. He twisted in his chair. The thickset man flashed a nervous look.
“Try this one; it will calm what ails you.” With an awkward smile, the man offered a slim cigar. Roulic accepted, having never seen, let alone smoked, a cigar before. The man helped him light the tight-rolled tobacco. Drawing in smoke, he took in too much, distracted by the man’s briar-shell butane lighter. He choked, coughing his head off.
“Don’t inhale! It’s not a cigarette, you know,” the man struggled to get out of his chair. He came back with a cold drink from the shop’s mini-refrigerator. “Try this. It’ll soothe your throat.”
"Thank you,” Roulic said, knocking his head back. He gulped half the sweet drink, dowsing his dry throat. “Yet another wonder. This bubbly beverage is most pleasing,” he said under sugared breath. The eccentric response only further agitated the man. Roulic stared out the big window, sipping his Coke with glazed eyes.
The man leaned over. “Hey buddy, Coca-Cola went global half a century ago. Where’d you fly in from? I don’t know how far you’ve come, but it’s 1999 around here.”
“1999?!!” Roulic spilled Coke on his knee, then laughed it off, hoping to recover the conversation. “Where did I fly in from?” He chuckled, facing the man. “Oh. Well, the Kingdom of Doth. Ever heard of Doth? Or Dandoorthose? Do people fly in here often?” Within seconds, he’d gone from a peculiar traveler to a laughing nut.
The heavy man lost all tolerance. He grabbed his attache case, got up, and left. But not before barking, “There’s a fortune teller and an astrology shop up the street. They might be able to help you — but I doubt it.”
Roulic’s head dropped. He knew he sounded mad. And looked out of the ordinary. What am I to do? I don’t know a soul here and I’ve nowhere to go. So, he finished his Coke and walked up the street. Good gods! It’s 1999! I’m three centuries ahead of myself. I hope you know what we’re doing, Destiny, because I am completely lost!
Spoilers: Charming Tomorrow, the sequel to Where The Witches Dwell in The Everlan Trilogy, takes its characters and Readers to where few Epic Fantasies dare to tread. It takes us into the mysterious, magical, wild, and weird world of…. California 1999.
Okay not exactly the most unique or original setting, but still it's interesting to add time travel to a subgenre which is all too often tightly bound to its various tropes. It adds a splash of cleverness, humor, and sharper stakes as ancient practically immortal characters duke it out in the past and present.
When last we left, our hero and villain, Roulic and Mayhem respectively they fought in a place called The Edge and because there were no guardrails or safety signs (and personal safety is not first in your list when you are battling each other with the known world at stake), the tumbled over The Edge into darkness. When they came to, they found themselves far away from the land of Doth in 1699 to as I mentioned before California 1999. Cast adrift but needing magic users to help him return to the past, Mayem solicits a local fortune teller by using mental manipulation and verbal threats to obtain her assistance. Meanwhile, Roulic reunites with some familiar faces: The Witches of Doth, seven sisters and one brother, all gifted with magical abilities and the siblings of Ravenna, Roulic’s intended lover who is stranded in the 1600’s. (They are all long lived. It's not as weird and unlikely as it sounds). The Witches have a proposition for Roulic, go back in time to the 1640’s and fight Mayem before he becomes too powerful then rescue Ravenna before she is cursed by merging with a bridge before Roulic met her in the first volume.
The book starts out in a satiric, even light hearted vein with some funny moments as Roulic and Mayhem navigate themselves through modern society. One of the cleverest moments occurs as Roulic and Mayhem are walking through Laguna Beach. They are naturally confused and out of their element with metal machines roll by on paved roads, people, particularly women, dress casually and wearing revealing clothing, expressions like “Dude,” and how people come up to them to say “hey” and act approachable.
Funnier still are the people of 1999 who have little to no reaction at all. Aside from some admiring their period style clothing and weaponry (one even asks Roulic who made his authentic boots), but no mass confusion or suspicion. They take the weirdness in stride. Guy wearing a full Medieval-style tunic and leggings? Boring. Carrying ready made polished and clearly been used? See it every Tuesday. Babbling about Destiny, dragons, magical keys, witches, and the end of the world? Look, I got things to do but we can meet later for coffee, kay?
Fortune tellers and psychics are widely available so all they have to do is find or control the right ones. Not only that but of course someone knows a family of witches, seven sisters and one brother! Who doesn't? They can lead Roulic right to them!
The other thing that Jest excels at in this volume is giving more diverse dimensions and personalities to the Witches. In the previous book, most of the distinction was given largely to Aurora because she guided Roulic on his journey and Ravenna because she was the enchanted love interest. In this volume all of the siblings stand out as individuals and family. From the maternal leader Aurora, to the serene High Priestess Marlee, the sardonic serious Raine, the quiet dreamy Alison, the bookish intellectual Jillian, the mischievous tricksters Maddy and Agnes, and the affectionate enthusiastic, Jax, they are an interesting family unit that works together even if they don't always agree.
Much of their individuality has a lot to do with the move to modern day. Many of the siblings adjusted, some more than others. Jax in particular thrives in this new environment trendy, dressed in modern clothing, using slang, and indistinguishable from any Millennial growing up in the late ‘90’s. Of course, it is not surprising that he and his sisters would adjust so well. Unlike Roulic who just got there, they lived for centuries in this environment so they had plenty of time to adapt to modern styles, professions, societies, and structures. They fit right in inconspicuous though clearly some are in the know.
The modern setting is so fun and interesting. It even fits well into Roulic and Mayem’s larger journey that reveals what their legacy is and how their actions create ripple effects that change their worlds for centuries. Sometimes those actions have long term consequences that even they can't always see in their lifetime. The modern setting is so odd and yet unique that it's a shame that it doesn't last and Roulic and Mayem reenter the 1640’s Doth and the magical Medieval-like Fantasy world that they left behind in volume one.
The transition isn't bad. There are some suspenseful twists particularly as Roulic has to avoid running into his young self and rescue Ravenna but make sure that they actually get together romantically anyway. Otherwise, Ravenna and her family won't be able to ally with Roulic against Mayem. But they already did and aided him. He wouldn't have been thrown over The Edge with Mayem and visit the present and return to the past-Time Travel is so confusing!
Confusion is one of the bigger issues concerning the rest of Charming Tomorrow. The time travel aspects while well written take out much of the suspense within. Of course, Roulic and Mayem will act the way that they do because they already did. Much of Roulic's tasks are somewhat arbitrary and difficult to keep track of particularly when he encounters the dragons that he once protected and the Pearlytook, the magical key that he once possessed in the previous book.
Also there is an uncertainty within the book which involves retconning many of the events from the previous book. It's less like an adventure that takes the characters into a new setting, presents challenges that raise the stakes, and transforms them in various ways. It seems more like there were things that Jest didn't like in the previous book so used the second to fix them so they would no longer exist in this universe.
Despite these concerns, the Time Travel angle is an interesting layer that contrasts greatly with the usual plot points in Epic Fantasy. Roulic thrives well in both times and travels back and forth between them. Mayem also thrives and his conversations with his new allies are both charismatic and chilling. He wins them over but he also makes them aware that failure is not an option.
The Witches also are actively involved in Roulic and Mayem’s travel between time periods. They observe their movements from 1999 and are able to provide magical assistance like creating storms and sending telepathic messages. One of the funniest running bits is that, many of the siblings, Maddy and Agnes particularly, watch and discuss these adventures, what Roulic should do or shouldn't have done, and offer predictions about what will happen next like they are binge watching a favorite series on Netflix. So the 1640’s and 1990’s settings aren't bad, they just need work to catch up to each other and be more original.
Since the 1999 portion contains most of the book’s highlights, perhaps Jest could have set most of the book here then returned to Doth in the next book. This would give more story than just reiterating what happened in the first book and look more like an actual well thought storyline instead of a desperate retcon. But still Charming Tomorrow is a good book and The Witches are the best characters and are definitely worth remembering and rooting for.