Building the stage
for a firestarter story
A Gothic land of real-life
castles, mysterious standing stones and an enchanted forest
We’re
on holiday in France to visit my husband’s family, and this year we’re taking a
detour to Brittany in the north. Today, we stop in Carnac to see the more than
three thousand mysterious standing stones dating back to 4500BC. Following a
path through nettle and thorns in my flip-flops, I’m awestruck by the mystery
of the place. Nobody knows why the stones were erected, or what purpose the
incredible construction served. They remind me of Stonehenge. The Celtic
culture here is evident in the language, cuisine, music, myths and symbols.
The next day we venture out to the
enchanted forest of Brocéliande, the home of King Arthur and other magical
creatures. Fairy trinkets are on display in the medieval village shop windows
and tarot card readings are signposted on their doors. I buy a stunningly
illustrated book of forest spirits and fantasy art before we have the
traditional lunch of galette (a pancake made with buckwheat flour and served
with a sweet or savory filling) and cider.
I’m looking forward to the visit of the
castles. Coming from a country of fairly young architecture (four hundred years
or so), anything with a turret and a tower is like a dream to me. We wander
down the cobblestone street of a village called Josselin to a castle with the
same name. Just like in picture books, a moat runs along the back. Yellow, red
and purple wildflowers spill over its banks. Ducks swim in the green water
toward the old mill. In this part of the world, Josselin is a powerful and
masculine name handed down from a long line of descendants who changed the
history of the world.
Back at the fisherman cottage where we’re
staying in Larmor-Baden, I walk along the shore of the Gulf of Morbihan to the
old town square and buy a kouign-amann (a crusty Breton cake made with bread
dough and layers of sugar and butter) from the patisserie. On the way back, I
stop at the harbor to enjoy the distant view of some of the islands that dot
the Gulf. The locals say there are more islands in the Gulf than days in a year.
In the nearby clearing the townsfolk is setting up for tonight’s Fest Noz, a
traditional festival with Breton music, dancing and beer.
The setting is mysterious, eerie,
romantic and breathtaking. Sea, islands, Celtic standing stones, fishermen
cottages, castles, myths, legends and secrets surround me. The elements are
Gothic–ancient icons that survived in a modern environment. It’s the dreamscape
that fairy tales are made of. It’s the perfect backdrop for a paranormal
romance novel. And so it becomes the real-life stage for a fictional story about
a haunted Frenchman who must find and kill the firestarter responsible for the
destruction of his Breton village, Larmor-Baden. He could never know that she
would turn out to be the frail Japanese girl from his childhood, or that she
had grown into a beautiful, desirable woman.
For
this story I’ve borrowed from fact and mixed it with fiction to create a
compelling backdrop for the hot, beautiful, scary and cozy ambiences that
change with the turn of every page.
Interesting facts
about the Pyromancist setting
Josselin Castle (French: Château de Josselin; Breton: Kastell Josilin)
·
Guéthénoc (vicomte
of Porhoët), Rohan and Guéméné started to build the first castle around 1008.
·
It is situated in the Oust Valley in Brittany, France.
·
The castle was named after Goscelinus, the son of Guéthénoc. The name is
recorded in the Cartulary of Redon Abbey (1080) as castellum et castrum
Goscelini, but already by 1108 it was appearing as Castellum Joscelini.
·
In the 18th century, the castle was no longer occupied as a seat
of power, and during the years of the French Revolution and the First French
Empire Napoleon used it as a prison and warehouse.
·
In 1822, Caroline, Duchess of Berry, persuaded the then Duke of
Rohan, Louis François de Rohan-Chabot, to restore it.
·
The Castle is still a residence of Josselin de Rohan, fourteenth
Duke of Rohan, who was President of the region of Brittany from 1998 to 2004.
·
In
2012, the Josselin castle served as the backdrop for the romantic Chinese
television series, Flowers and Mist.
“Imagine a fairytale castle! Imagine soaring
ramparts and three mighty towers dominating the river valley below. Imagine
these things and you have Josselin castle—a fortress where the very history of
Brittany was forged. And yet, within the solid castle walls, you will discover
the delicate intricacy of the exquisite flamboyant Gothic facade that they
conceal. The mediaeval and the Renaissance come together to create a place of
legend and magic.” (http://www.chateaujosselin.com/en/)
Standing stones of
Carnac
·
The
Stones of Carnac is a dense collection of megalithic sites around the French
village of Carnac, in Brittany.
·
There
are more than 3000 prehistoric standing stones.
·
This
is the largest collection of its kind in the world.
·
According
to archeologists, the pre-Celtic people of Brittany erected the stones.
·
They
were erected during the Neolithic period with some dating back to 4500 BC.
·
The
largest stones are around 13 feet (4 meters) high.
·
There
are three major groups of stone rows–Ménec, Kermario and Kerlescan– which may
have once formed a single group, but have been split up as stones were removed
for other purposes.
·
A
dolmen is a tomb constructed of several large stones supporting a capstone,
then buried under a mound of earth.
·
A
tumuli is a mound of earth built up over a grave, featuring a passage leading
to a central chamber that once held Neolithic artifacts.
·
A
menhir is a stone standing upright.
“Research is going on now
to try to find out if these stone markings served as sites for astronomy or
whether they were aligned with the Sun or Moon in a special way. But for now,
their true purpose remains elusive.” (http://www.ancient-origins.net/ancient-places-europe/mystery-carnac-stones-00827)
Gulf of Morbihan
·
There are around 42 islands in the Gulf of Morbihan.
·
Many are owned by celebrities.
·
The two largest, Île aux Moines and Île d’Arz, are favorite
tourist destinations in summer.
·
The island of Gavrinis is home to the most impressive megalithic
site in Brittany–a pyramid-shaped stone burial chamber with a long stone
passageway decorated with carvings.
“In the Gulf of Morbihan,
the small uninhabited island of Gavrinis is home to what is arguably Brittany’s
most impressive Neolithic site –whose interior walls are covered with artwork.
The island is accessible via a guided tour by boat from Larmor-Baden.” (http://www.brittanytourism.com/discover-brittany/islands-and-headlands/gavrinis)
Forest of Brocéliande
·
Brocéliande is known for its legends, uncertain location,
unusual weather and ties with Arthurian Romance.
·
This is where the magical fountain and the tomb of the legendary
figure, Merlin are said to be situated.
·
This is where Vivien entrapped Merlin inside an oak tree.
·
By 1240, the forest of Brocéliande was already established as
part of Arthurian legend due to its appearance in multiple writings.
·
Brocéliande is the location of the fantasy novel, Merlin’s Wood
by Robert Holdstock.
·
It is the backdrop for the movie Robin Hood (2010) as the place
where Robert Loxley is ambushed by the French.
·
In Bermanrd Cornwell’s Arthurian trilogy, The Warlord
Chronicles, Brocéliande is one of two British (Celtic) kingdoms that form
modern-day Brittany, the other being Armorica.
“About 18 miles (30km)
west of Rennes, the forest of Paimpont is all that remains of the vast forest
that covered ancient inland Brittany, aka Argoat. Legend has it that the 25
square miles (40km2) of woodland is also the location of mythical
Brocéliande, the forest of King Arthur.”
(http://www.brittanytourism.com/discover-brittany/quintessential-brittany/broceliande)
Pyromancist
Seven Forbidden Arts
Book 1
Charmaine Pauls
Genre: Paranormal Erotic Romance
Publisher: Satin Romance,
an imprint of Mélange Books
Date of Publication: 19 March 2015
ISBN: 978-1680460339
ASIN: B00UFW1CDW
Number of pages: 252
Word Count: 101 000
Cover Artist: Caroline Andrus
Book Description:
When you play with fire, you get burned.
At the same time as mysterious fires commence to rage through Clelia d’Ambois’ home village in Brittany, France, she starts sleepwalking. Daughter of a Japanese orphan, Clelia’s heritage is riddled with dark secrets that threaten anyone she loves. In a recurring nightmare she sees Josselin, the haunted man who abandoned their village nine years earlier, come for her, but she doesn’t know why. All she knows is that she has to run. As fast as she can.
Leader of a paranormal crime taskforce, Josselin de Arradon is called back to his hometown with a mission–find and kill the firestarter responsible for Larmor-Baden’s blazing destruction. Sensing that Clelia is the key to solving the crime, Josselin kidnaps her to use her as bait. The battle doesn’t turn out quite as he expected. Nothing could have prepared him for the truth, or the depth of his desire for his prisoner.
This is Book 1 of the Seven Forbidden Arts series, but also reads as a stand-alone.
This book contains adult content with explicit language and consummated love scenes. Suited for an audience of 18+.
Available at Amazon BN Satin Romance Smashwords Lulu
Excerpt:
Josselin had only spoken to her
once. It was on a summer day after school. She had wandered to the dense forest
at the back of the schoolyard because she knew that was where she would find
him. She stood behind a tree and watched him–studied him–the movement of his
hand as he smoked a forbidden cigarette, the manner in which he pulled his
fingers through his dark hair, and the way he laughed loudly into his gang of
friends, even if his eyes cried, or blazed.
That
day, however, he wasn’t with his friends. He was with a girl. Her name was
Thiphaine and she was the most popular girl in school. She was blonde and slim
and beautiful with blue eyes and red painted fingernails. Clelia watched from
her hiding place as Josselin slowly backed Thiphaine up until her body pressed
against the trunk of the witch tree. It was a thuja occidentalis but the
townsfolk had baptized it so because of its twisted and crippled branches. The
setting was eerie for a romantic adventure, and yet, it suited Josselin. He
seemed right at home, while Thiphaine looked around nervously. His hand went to
her cheek, his palm huge and dark and rough against the porcelain paleness of
Thiphaine’s face, while his other hand slipped under her blouse. His gray eyes
looked like melted steel when he lowered his head.
His
shoulder-length black hair fell forward when he pressed his lips to Thiphaine’s
and he moved his hand from her cheek to brush it back behind his ear. Clelia
remembered the deliberate movement of his jaw, the way the muscles dimpled in
his cheek, the hand under Thiphaine’s blouse, all the while maintaining his
composure while Thiphaine came undone under his caress. The beautiful girl made
low moaning sounds. Her knees buckled, but Josselin, without breaking the kiss,
grabbed her waist, pulling her so tightly into him that her back arched,
keeping her up with his arm while he made her weak with his touch and his
tongue.
Watching
them ignited both yearning and pain inside of Clelia. The hurt she felt speared
her heart. The aching in her soul was suddenly greater than the heat in her
pores and on her cheeks, but she couldn’t tear her stare away from the
forbidden sight. It was Iwig, a boy from her class, who broke the painful spell
when he discovered her behind the tree.
“What
have we here?” he said.
His
eyes darted to the distance where Josselin and Thiphaine were embracing. He
knew what she had been doing. He was a tall, blond boy with a strong build, and
Clelia disliked him for his habit of hunting abandoned cats with his pellet
gun.
“A
peeping tom,” he said, taking a step toward her.
When
she tried to back away, he grabbed her long braid and tugged it painfully,
causing her to yelp.
“Not
so fast, witch.” He grabbed her arm and hauled her so that she stumbled into
him. “You like to watch, don’t you?” He grinned. “How about a taste of the real
thing?”
She
opened her mouth to scream, but he had already brought his down and kissed her
so hard that his teeth split her lower lip. In reflex her free hand shot up,
aiming for his cheek, and collided with its target. The force of the blow shot
Iwig’s head back and froze him in his action, but only for a second, before
Clelia saw his arm lift. Not able to free herself from his grip, she cowered
instinctively, but instead of his fist coming down on her, another pair of arms
grabbed Iwig by his shoulders and flung him to the ground.
When
she looked up, she stared into the face of Josselin, and what she saw was
frightening. His features were twisted into a terrifying expression, and before
she could say anything, Josselin bent down and lifted Iwig by his jacket
lapels. Iwig’s legs dangled, flapping like fish on soil, while his arms flayed
in the air as if swatting flies. Josselin let go of one side of the jacket, his
fist arching and hooking under Iwig’s chin, while at the same time unknotting
his other hand from the fabric of the jacket. The impact sent Iwig flying
through the air. When he hit the ground, she could hear the loud thump as the
air was knocked from his lungs. Josselin moved forward, his arms away from his
body, his fingers flexing, his shoulders pushed forward, until he stood
wide-legged over the submissive body of Iwig. Iwig lifted his hands in front of
his face, mumbling pleas for mercy.
“If
you ever touch a girl in that way again, I’ll hang you from a tree under a pack
of wild boars and watch them eat you from your feet up to your useless dick,
until they rip your stomach open and your insides fall out and you beg me to
die,” Josselin said.
He
spoke very softly, but the woods had suddenly gone quiet. His voice all but
echoed in the absence of the sound of birds and wind. From the corner of her
eye, Clelia noticed Thiphaine who stood to the side, hugging herself.
“And
if you ever lift your hand to a woman again, I’ll cut off your balls and make
you eat them and then I’ll feed you to the boars. Do you understand?”
Iwig
tried to scurry away on his elbows, but Josselin stepped on his jacket.
“I
asked if you understand.”
“Yes.
Yes,” Iwig said. He had started crying.
When
Josselin lifted his boot, Iwig scrambled to his feet. He didn’t look at Clelia
before he ran down the path in the direction of the school. Only then did
Josselin turn to her. She shook from head to toe while Josselin studied her
quietly. After a moment he walked to her, took her chin in his hand and tilted
her head.
“You’re
bleeding,” he said, trailing his thumb over her lower lip.
And
then he did something that shocked her wildly. He brought his thumb to his
lips, slowly, his gray eyes holding hers prisoner while he slipped his finger
into his mouth and licked it clean, tasting her blood.
Clelia
couldn’t move. She stood still, unable to speak or blink.
He
took a white handkerchief from his coat pocket and wiped it over her mouth
before pressing it into her hand.
“He
won’t bother you again, but you’d better go home.”
She
only nodded. He was much taller than her, so that she had to crane her neck to
look up at him. He shifted and then his face was obscured by the shadows with
the sun at his back. She remembered wondering if he had forgotten about
Thiphaine, who still stood to one side, silently observing, her eyes wide.
Clelia looked from Thiphaine to Josselin. When life finally returned to her
legs and she started to hurry down the path, he said, “What’s your name, girl?”
She
stopped. “Cle … Cle…” Her teeth chattered.
He
frowned. “Take a deep breath. You’re in shock.”
She
did as he instructed, and found her jaw relax slightly.
“That’s
better. Now, tell me again.”
“Clelia.”
His
lips twitched. “The witch?”
She
flinched. That was what her classmates called her.
He
didn’t show any kind of emotion. Only his smile became a little bit more
pronounced. “How old are you?”
“Fourteen,”
she said through parched lips.
“You’re
too young to wander alone in the woods.”
When
he said that, his voice became soft and dark again, like when he had spoken to
Iwig, and without sparing either of the lovers another glance, Clelia sprinted
home and curled into a ball on her bed with his bloody handkerchief in her
hand.
About the Author:
Charmaine Pauls was born in Bloemfontein, South Africa. She obtained a degree in Communication at the University of Potchestroom, and followed a diverse career path in journalism, public relations, advertising, communications, photography, graphic design, and brand marketing. Her writing has always been an integral part of her professions.
After relocating to France with her French husband, she fulfilled her passion to write creatively full-time. Charmaine has published six novels since 2011, as well as several short stories and articles.
When she is not writing, she likes to travel, read, and rescue cats. Charmaine currently lives in Chile with her husband and children. Their household is a linguistic mélange of Afrikaans, English, French and Spanish.
Read more about Charmaine’s romance novels and psychological short stories
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