Dragon Queen: The Tales of Guinevere [NOOK Book]

Overview

Arthur turned and strode toward us. He was magnificent, and I will never forget that, in that moment, I first loved him. And I believe--had I known what the future held for us: all the trouble, torment, battle, and grief of our lives--I still believe that I would have yielded my heart into his keeping as I did then . . .

In a sweeping epic of the imagination, Alice Borchardt enters the wondrous realm of Arthurian legend and makes it her own. ...
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Dragon Queen: The Tales of Guinevere

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Overview

Arthur turned and strode toward us. He was magnificent, and I will never forget that, in that moment, I first loved him. And I believe--had I known what the future held for us: all the trouble, torment, battle, and grief of our lives--I still believe that I would have yielded my heart into his keeping as I did then . . .

In a sweeping epic of the imagination, Alice Borchardt enters the wondrous realm of Arthurian legend and makes it her own. The Dragon Queen is the first volume in a trilogy of novels that boldly re-imagines Camelot--and casts Guinevere as a shrewd, strong-willed, magical warrior queen.

Born into a world of terrible strife, where war is constant and weapons are never far from the hands of men or women, Guinevere, daughter of a mighty pagan queen, is a threat to her people and a prize to the dreaded sorcerer Merlin. Sent into hiding, she grows up under the protection of a shapeshifting man-wolf and an ornery Druid. But even on the remote coast of Scotland, where dragons feed and watch over her, she is not safe from the all-seeing High Druid Merlin. He knows the young beauty's destiny, and he will stop at nothing to prevent what has been foretold. For if Guinevere becomes Queen and Arthur, King, they will bring a peace to the land that will leave the power-hungry Merlin a shriveled magician in a weary cloak.

Yet Guinevere possesses power of her own--dazzling power to rival even that of Merlin. Summoned from her home by forces she cannot fathom, she travels from the Underworld to an Otherworld of the Past, at each step calling on ancient powers to aid her way. When young Guinevere proves her mettle to an embarrassed Merlin, even her faithful dragon protectors cannot prevent the evil that the sorcerer rains down. Seeking revenge, Merlin banishes Arthur to a world from which the only escape is death. Now Guinevere must face Merlin's wrath without him--and prove that she is worthy of being Arthur's Queen.

From the glass-roofed Great Hall at Tintigal to the lush garden forts of Wales, Alice Borchardt details the travels of Guinevere in a rich fabric of prose. The Dragon Queen is a novel of great emotional depth, timeless romance, and soul-stirring adventure.
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Editorial Reviews

Publishers Weekly
Magic rules in this first volume of a trilogy that focuses on the fabled Guinevere's adventures before and after she comes to Camelot. Borchardt (Night of the Wolf) paints a vivid portrait of the future queen, who is no pale Pre-Raphaelite princess. Suckled by a she-wolf, this child of power is protected by a Druid, Dugald, and the Gray Watcher, Maeniel, not to mention a shape-changing wolfman. Daughter of a pagan queen, this warrior beauty takes control of her own destiny. Bold, courageous, prophetic and possessed of powers that enable her to communicate with dragons and wolves, as well as with a shrunken head, this Guinevere enchants and engages the reader immediately, even as a spindly toddler thrown into a wolves' den. A fine, lyrical storyteller, Borchardt reinvents familiar characters, including a young Arthur and an evil Merlin, who seeks to control the once and future king of Camelot. This dark sorcerer may dismay some Merlin lovers, as he would rather see Guinevere dead than as Arthur's queen. It's an interesting concept in a long line of derivative explorations of a mysterious character who has long enchanted Arthurian fantasy devotees. In the prologue, Guinevere writes: "I am myself a creature of the dance, the imitation of the movements embraced by the dialogue between earth and sky," and readers will be eager for the dance to be continued in the next installment. Borchardt further stakes her claim as a writer of breathtaking eloquence, reminding all, once again, that she is more than just Anne Rice's sister. (Oct. 2) Forecast: The popularity of Arthurian romance and the author's high name recognition would alone ensure strong sales, but good word of mouth should give this along shelf life. Copyright 2001 Cahners Business Information.
VOYA
Beginning a new Arthurian trilogy with a wallop, this story of Guinevere—here a strong, magical warrior woman—and her rise to power is packed with magic, action, fairy armor, shape-shifters, dragons, deadly fights, and more. It provides a rousing new twist on an old story. Daughter of the pagan warrior-queen Boddicea, Guinevere is raised by wolves and protected by Maeniel, a wolf-human shape-shifter, and the Druid Dugald. Her boldness and courage is matched by mystical and magical powers that she needs in her battle against Merlin and Igrane to achieve her primacy. Like all heroes, she must follow a journey to prove that she has the power to match Arthur's and to be his queen. Her journey takes her to other planes of existence where she must prove her mettle against the challenges that a vengeful Merlin poses her. Author of The Silver Wolf (Del Rey, 1998/VOYA December 1998), Borchardt works her own magic by creating a vastly different Merlin from the star-cloaked graybeard of popular image. This Merlin is evil—in thrall to Igrane's illusory feminine wiles, power hungry, and ready to sacrifice anyone to achieve his own ends. Her Guinevere has a proud heart and the ability to prophesy the future, with the steely will to take it for herself. Borchardt's followers and fantasy lovers should go along willingly with this new series, and the popularity of Arthurian legend will add to the appeal for older teens. First-time Borchardt readers will find that Ann Rice's older sister possesses an obvious resonance in story elements but a very different style. VOYA CODES: 4Q 4P S A/YA (Better than most, marred only by occasional lapses; Broad general YA appeal; Senior High, defined as grades 10 to 12;Adult and Young Adult). 2001, Del Rey, 473p,
— Dolores Maminski
School Library Journal
Adult/High School-Set in a Britain freshly rid of Roman rule, this tale is loosely based on Arthurian legend. Readers meet a noble Arthur, a wise Morgana, a mesmerizing yet nasty Merlin, and a very different sort of Guinevere. Raised by wolves and endowed with ivylike skin armor reminiscent of Celtic tattoos, this young woman is no frail maiden in need of a Lancelot. Young Guinevere blossoms into womanhood while finding herself at the center of a struggle for the soul of her country. On one side is the powerful archdruid Merlin, who has sold out to Romano-British slaveholders. On the other side are matriarchs, sorcerers, and sorceresses, all of whom honor the old ways. With a sense of destiny and the fire of youth, Arthur and Guinevere navigate worlds mundane and surreal. Magical encounters border on the whimsical while retaining an often-frightening edge. During these encounters, Guinevere discovers her affinity for dragons and chooses her destiny with Arthur. The author has created a world that is civilized yet wild, brutal yet beautiful-a world in which readers can easily become immersed. Teens who enjoyed Marion Zimmer Bradley's The Mists of Avalon (Del Rey, 1987) are sure to appreciate The Dragon Queen. It's a fresh and scintillating take on a well-loved theme.-Sheila Shoup, Fairfax County Public Library, VA Copyright 2001 Cahners Business Information.
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780345449504
  • Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
  • Publication date: 2/19/2002
  • Series: Tales of Guinevere Series
  • Sold by: Random House
  • Format: eBook
  • Edition description: File Size: 1.8MB
  • Sales rank: 608,211
  • File size: 3 MB

Meet the Author

Alice Borchardt shared a childhood of storytelling with her sister, Anne Rice, in New Orleans. A professional nurse, she has also nurtured a profound interest in little-known periods of history. She is the author of Devoted, Beguiled, The Silver Wolf, Night of the Wolf, and The Wolf King. She lives in Houston.
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Read an Excerpt

Cornwall, England

Tintigal, Year of our Lord 470

THE SHIP PULLED UP TO THE QUAY.

Above the fortress, rock frowned down on the two men standing on the deck. “It has never fallen to assault,” the captain told Maeniel.

“This I can believe,” Maeniel said, studying the formidable stone and wood walls at the top.

“Even Caesar did not care to besiege it,” the captain continued. “Or so it is said.”

Though spring had come to the continent, the wind in Britain still had a bite to it, especially the sea wind. Maeniel pulled his mantle more tightly around himself. He knew the captain was eaten alive with curiosity about him and his mission. He had declined to say more than absolutely necessary about it to the man. The people he served needed as much protection as they could get. Not simply from the imperial tax gatherers but also from the barbarian warlords who so willingly served the interests of those who monopolized the remnants of Roman power. The captain probably had friends in every port where the Veneti called. A man now might be hard put to get a letter to Rome within a year, but gossip spread like a brush fire.

“I was surprised when they gave me permission to bring you here,” the captain continued.

“I have business with Vortigen,” Maeniel said.

The captain laughed. “I love the way you say that, as though you were a man stepping out to a fair to purchase a horse. A small matter of business, nothing extraordinary. Vortigen is the high king of Britain, and he seems to know your name. Oh no, my lord Maeniel, nothing unusual about this situation at all.Big doings up there tonight, though. I have been ferrying important people out here all day, one after another. You will be the last. Enjoy yourself at the feast, my lord.”

Maeniel nodded and smiled.

“High king or not, I hope he knows what he’s doing—all those Saxons,” the captain said, spitting the word Saxon.

One of the sailors reached out with a hook and pulled the boat up against the quay, while two others began mooring her fore and aft to iron rings set in the stone.

“No!” the captain shouted. “Don’t. We will sail with the tide. I won’t remain here. Not tonight at any rate.” He looked up at the fortress through narrowed eyes.

The man holding the boat to the dock gave him a puzzled glance. “I thought you enjoyed the king’s hospitality.”

“Not tonight, I won’t,” the captain said. “And don’t ask me any questions about why.”

Maeniel jumped over the gunwales to the stone quay. “You are returning to Gaul, then?” he called back to the captain.

“Yes.”

“Come,” the man said. “All this trouble for nothing. We could at least stay the night. We might pick up a cargo.”

“No,” said the captain. “We will be in Vennies by sunrise. I’d prefer it that way.”

A dozen men were at the oars. The mate shrugged and pushed off with the boat hook.

“Put your backs into it!” the captain shouted to the crew. “We will be home by morning. You married men can chase your wives’ lovers out the window and get some sleep. We were paid in gold for this day’s work. Everyone will have a share.”

Then they were gone, drawing away on the evening tide.

Maeniel’s eyes closed. The sea wind brought a mixture of odors to his nostrils: salt, roasting meat, and other savory cooking smells; pitch from the torches being lit on the walls above him; the human odor of infrequently washed bodies living in close quarters on the rock, perspiration and perfume, the diverse odors of linen, silk, and wool. This was going to be an aristocratic gathering.

And something else was borne on the wind to him, something he didn’t want to intrude on his consciousness just now, a warning. Yes, a definite warning. Sometimes humans sense things also. Yes, he’d paid the captain in gold to bring him to Tintigal in the kingdom of Dumnonia, but the man might as well have remained and tried to pick up a cargo. In fact, the captain had not done too badly once Maeniel was in Britain, picking up other travelers along the coast and ferrying them out to the rock. But come nightfall, he began to grow nervous. Maeniel knew the signs very well. The hair on the back of the captain’s neck began to stir, as had Maeniel’s when he first saw the fortress. And the captain didn’t know why any more than Maeniel did. Left to himself, Maeniel the wolf would have cleared out. He wouldn’t have run exactly, but that “not right” feeling, when it wouldn’t leave yet wouldn’t be resolved, was something the wolf wouldn’t have wanted to play around with. But humans—as he was now—with their predetermined appointments and planned meetings left little room for a response to the shadowy awareness that haunted him, that haunted the wolf.

A serving man appeared at his elbow. He bowed. “My lord.” He was responding to Maeniel’s silk woolen tunic and heavy velvet mantle. “My lord, are you here for the feast?”

Maeniel nodded.

“The stairs are to your left. They will bring you to the citadel; but before you go, if you would be so kind, I must have your sword.”

Maeniel felt even more uneasy. He was tempted to say no, but in the growing gloom he saw two indistinct figures behind the serving man and realized they must be part of the king’s guard. “Will I be the only one who must yield up his weapon?”

The servant bowed again. “No, my lord. No one may bring a weapon to the king’s board, not tonight. They will be held in the strong rooms under the fortress and will be returned in the morning. They will all be under guard through the night.”

Maeniel unbuckled his sword belt. “I want to see where you take this,” he said.

The servant smiled, a little bit patronizingly, but said, “Certainly, sir.”

Then his eyes widened slightly at the sight of the hilt. It was wrapped in gold wire. A lot of gold wire, more gold than the servant had ever seen in his life. “It looks old,” he said.

“It is old,” Maeniel answered.

“The hilt—”

“The hilt is nothing. The blade is everything.” So saying, Maeniel drew half its length from the sheath. The torchlight shining down from the ramparts above woke rainbows in the steel.

The two soldiers behind the servant peered over his shoulder to look into the blade, for indeed, they could see their reflections there.

“Only the gods could make such a weapon,” one of them said.

Maeniel looked down at it sadly. “Not the gods but men made and wore it before the Romans came to Gaul. But no matter, please take care of it.” He handed belt, sword, and scabbard to the servant. “My teacher bestowed weapons on me. I cherish them.”

Then he turned and began climbing the stair. The servant walked ahead with the sword, the soldiers behind.

From the stair, Maeniel could look out over the ocean. The sun was only a salmon glow among the purplish-blue clouds on the horizon, but since a feast was in the offing, torches blazed everywhere. The serving man paused before they reached the top.

“The fortress was built in the form of rings, each higher level above but inside the lower.”

Here Maeniel encountered magic. He always seemed to do so when he least expected it. This ring had a broader area of open ground than the others, and it had been turned into a garden. Large square clay pans held food crops, and giant urns housed small trees and shrubs. A waist-high wall surrounded the garden, and the trees and vines flowed from troughs at the edge, hanging down so far that they almost reached the next level. There were roses—many roses—white, yellow, and red. Pomegranates, hazel trees, and berry vines, their long thorny canes draped over the rail. They were not in fruit but in bloom, white flowers scattered like stars among the vines. The clay pans were filled with herbs—rosemary; mints, which will grow anywhere if they have water and sun; pennyroyal; spearmint and the hairy apple mints—onions, leeks, garlic, cabbages, and mustards, their cross-shaped yellow flowers open to the night wind and sea air.

“A garden in the sky,” Maeniel said.

“Yes. Are you then an adept?”

“Adept?” Maeniel said, mystified. “Adept at what?”

“Magic, sir,” the serving man answered, then pointed to the soldiers. They were climbing the last flight of stairs to the inner keep above. “They don’t even know we are not with them, though they will announce your presence to the king. He will thank them for it. He is always polite and will not warn them that they are deceived.

“Most can’t see this garden at all, and those who can only think it is a quaint concept of the high king to keep a few pots of flowers and vegetables near his front door. I will conduct you to the hall of weapons.”

“Yes,” Maeniel said. “Beneath the rose.”

“Behind it,” the serving man corrected, for there were pots of white roses all along the inner wall.

Maeniel saw the wall and the entrance hidden by magic, and he and the serving man—by now Maeniel was sure he was no ordinary servant—stepped into it.

Was it morning or was it evening? He couldn’t be sure, and the wolf did not inform him. The sun was just over the horizon, driving long shafts of light into the mists drifting in the vast hall.

Vast, Maeniel thought. Why vast? The drifting mist was so thick he could barely make out the doorway behind him. Yet he had the sense of enormous empty space, a high roof, and giant windows looking out over a cloud-filled sky, of winds that drove sharp downdrafts, cold and moist, and updrafts, hot and reeking of jungle, forest, and marsh, and a sense of latent lightning hovering just out of being but poised to rend both earth and sky. The mists around him were not fog or dew but clouds drifting over the summer country of an earth below.

“You are no natural man,” the servant said.

“No,” Maeniel answered as the clouds, dark, now bright blue, silver, and bloody with the new—or was it the old?—sun boiled around him. “I am a wolf who is sometimes a man. Tell me, is it twilight or dawn here?”

“There is no here here,” the servant answered, “and it is neither one nor the other, each and both at the same time. Do you wish my master any harm?”

“No. I came in hopes of his help for—”

The servant raised his hand. “I need know nothing more. There are those here who do wish him ill. He has been warned, but he balances the need for peace with the danger they pose. I can do no more than advise caution.” He extended the sword before him. There was a chime as though a great bell had rung. The sword vanished. “It will be returned in two days. Wherever you may be, you will receive it. The blade is warm with the love its maker put in it. His blood went into the molten steel as an offering, making it resistant to any magic but your own. No matter what I do, I cannot retain it here for long. It is yours in more than one sense.”

Seconds later they were both climbing up the steps to Vortigen’s hall.

“Not even the dead can remain long in the halls of the sky,” the servant continued. “Birds alone rule it. That’s why they are sacred to her—she who gave you face and form. She has always had only one name, The Lady.”

They reached the top, and Vortigen’s hall stood before them. When Maeniel turned to look, the servant had gone.

The feasting hall occupied the top of the fortress, a dome of fitted, unmortared stone.

Vitrified, Maeniel thought, a house of glass.

He’d heard of the process but had not seen it before. The walls had originally been made of wood, the dome of sand and other silicates framed within it. A hot controlled burn fused the sand into a mass like obsidian, and when the wood was burned away a glass bubble remained. This was Vortigen’s hall. The exterior and interior walls were polished, with openings drilled for a door and smoke hole in the roof.

It was beautiful.


From the Hardcover edition.
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Table of Contents

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Customer Reviews

Average Rating 3.5
( 9 )
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Sort by: Showing all of 9 Customer Reviews
  • Anonymous

    Posted August 12, 2002

    READ THIS NOVEL!

    The Tales of Guinevere captured my heart and I could not put it down until I reached the end. Days on end I was burried in my book! This novel includes a shapeshifting wolf (those of us who read the silver wolf and the wolf king will realize this is our old friend just in a different time-remember he lives way longer than us humans!), trapped spirits, alternate worlds, magic, love, passion, destiny , fate, a young girl coming into her own, realizing her heritage, becoming a powerful woman, and much much more! This is not a factual history lesson on Author and Guinavere, it is more of a way better story of how it could have began! Read this book and share the experience that I had! You will love this book and cry at the end like I did!!

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted December 9, 2008

    more from this reviewer

    Epic Guinivere and Arthur fantasy

    Descended from the sorcerer queen Bodiccia and born to a powerful pagan practicing mage, She becomes a pawn to fate. Raised by a druid, shapeshifter, and his family, everyone knew she was destined to become queen. Merlin and Igraine (Arthur¿s mother) sought to control her, but her family hid her so she would have time to grow and mature. <P>At their first meeting, Guinivere knows Arthur is her true love, but she is not ready to be his queen. She escapes Marlin¿s machinations and performs a service for the Goddess Athena. Arthur struggles with the pressures placed on him by his mother and Merlin her lover, but knows he must prove worthy in order for Guinivere to agree to become his queen. <P> THE DRAGON QUEEN is rich in historical text, but loaded with fantasy species and actions. The deep story line includes some whimsy to soften the epic tale that clearly is on a par with Tarr and Radford. The only drawback is that fans will have to wait for the adventures of Guinivere and Arthur separately and together to continue in the next installment of this three book saga. <P>Harriet Klausner

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted July 27, 2012

    Geuss what!

    My name is Guinivere too!

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted June 19, 2010

    more from this reviewer

    I Also Recommend:

    The Dragon Queen

    I found myself very unimpressed with Alice Bordhardt's book. The characters were bad and putrid and easy to hate. I guess I could say that the plot was pretty good and well thought out, but only if you can stand a major tearing from the traditional King Author story. I do have to complain about the editing, in there sense that there seems to be none.

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  • Posted December 27, 2009

    more from this reviewer

    I Also Recommend:

    The Dragon Queen, The Tales of Guinevere, Book 1

    Coming soon.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted October 14, 2007

    A reviewer

    I must say, I love the fantasy and sci-fi genre, and I loved this book. I'm a medievalist, and I really enjoyed the way Borchardt played with the roles in this text. My regret now is that with Borchardt's unfortunate passing, book 3 won't be available. Noooooo!

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  • Anonymous

    Posted August 11, 2010

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  • Anonymous

    Posted February 20, 2011

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  • Anonymous

    Posted November 27, 2010

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