Novels by Purplelane

Too wary to keep in the cottage when Mother Hall had such heavy words to say, Iris skipped out early the next day to collect herbs, leaving her mentor a message that she might stay out a few nights if the weather stayed fair. It was a childish act of cowardice, and Iris knew she was running from shadows, keeping to the paths she knew and need not fear, but it seemed if she stayed out she need not face whatever painful truth Hall had in her breast. Or perhaps at least she could build up her strength to hear it.So Iris did a tour of her favorite places, spending half a day gathering up chestnuts so she could roast them and offer them to the shy spirit that dwelled in the forest well and the playful one that frolicked in their brook and tended to keep under the bridge in the summer as to spout water at the kids who crossed it. After that, she headed towards the hills, following the brook upstream and clambering up the rocks it spilled over so effortlessly.

La-di-da! Iris jumped from rock to mound to rock as she made her way to the town. It was a beautiful day, the deep green of the trees vibrant against the bright blue sky. A slight breeze tugged at her long hair and seemed to fill up her chest, until she was light as air and giddy with the warm sunlight glowing against her skin. Iris enjoyed the rare moment of levity and bubbling energy before slowing down to a sedate pace as she turned a hill and caught sight of the town's sloping roofs. A Candlemaiden should walk with grace and gravity: Mother Hall's words, not Iris's. She wasn't quite sure what it meant to walk with gravity, but she figured walking slowly and steadily was a good bet."Morning, Candlemaiden Iris," said a town elder, with a perfunctory bow of the head. "Shall I ring the bell for you?"Iris doubted that Lani had the strength in her bony arms, and besides, ringing the bell was her favorite part. "I shall handle it myself, Elder Lanica," Iri

The tawny young girl, kneeling on the stone church floor, carved the candles smooth. The sheared-off drops fell to her lap, trapped in the furrow of rough cloth. As her knife skimmed along the candle's edge, she hummed. And as she hummed, she talked to the odd little creatures that lived in what they called the Candlewood.Some were as small as ladybugs and others as large as bumblebees. The brave ones climbed up Iris's knees and snatched away tallow beads to eat. The shy ones flickered in and out of view like the flames that crowned their candle-trees. As they moved, they often sang in high tremulous voices that Iris could only understand if she peered at the world through her eyelids as if in a dream.Today they talked about the weather, how the damp was wilting their wings, and about the three purple candles on the third highest tier. They tasted weird, like honey and clover and tears, sang a group of colorful Candlekin with double wings and shiny skin

In a realm untrod by human feet, somewhere far beyond the clouds and deep within the earth, three women sat around a glass-topped table and determined the fate of nations. Their forms were uncertain, constantly changing such that, in this second, one's skin seemed bone-white and then it was clay-red, or another's hair was long and sleek for a moment just to be a dark cloud of coils in the next, or the third's eyes changed from icy blue to amber-gold in a blink- but though their forms changed, their essence never altered and was as real and as infinite as the star-strewn sky or the tumultuous sea.By each were piles of gemstones: mossy heaps of small emeralds like water-smoothed pebbles, glittering pools of tear-drop sapphires that ranged from aquamarine to indigo, and heavy blood-red rubies the size of a raven's egg. Yet somehow the plain dice spread around the table, carved from bone and wood and stone, seemed weightier, more valuable, than the sparkling jewels.