Read Online Charlotte Stone and the Children of the Nymet by Tasha O'Neill - Free Book Online
Authors: Tasha O'Neill
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sun into each.
In time, the fire within the Benu bird was spent and it returned, exhausted and feeble, to the island of Inish. Once again the Sleeping Mother felt the sadness in its heart. The Rani, Queen of the Vorla, sent her most trusted aide Durga to the surface to attend to the Benu bird on the orders of the Sleeping Mother. So pitiful was the Benu that Durga split the Sylurian sun in two and, extracting a little light from each half, she fed the Benu bird, restoring its beauty.
However, the Benu bird was not content and wished to continue to sing. Durga knew that this could not be allowed; the Benuâs song still echoed through the Triverse, even rippling into the Dreamtime, and a new melody would jar with the original song of the creation, bringing it collapsing in on itself. With the permission of the Rani, she trapped the Benu bird within a crystal jar and wrapped this in layer upon layer of stone.
In spite of its confinement, the Benu bird continued to sing and the stone glowed with its happiness. In this little world, the Benu was perpetually renewed by its own light and song.
The Vorla took the stone deep into the recesses of the crystal caves, gilding it in a beautiful cage of silver, gold and precious jewels. The stone was hung in the chamber of the Rani where it infused her and her diamond veil with its dormant life-giving light. Bathed in the light of the Vorla Lamp, these creatures of living stone lived for millennia in peace and happiness.
Tayâmor paused for a moment, taking in the faces around him as they sat listening intently while passing round mead horns and the last scraps of the feast. A gentle ripple of applause wafted through the crowd, but most knew the story wasnât quite over yet.
Since that time, the Vorla vowed never again to interfere with the evolution of any lifeform within the Triverse, but they still stalk the Dreamtime with an eternal, unquenchable thirst for knowledge. They have even been known to drive men insane in their quest. You would do well, dear friends, to ensure you never sleep on an argument or you may find yourself suffering nightmares, as the curious Vorla discover and unravel your darkened mind.
A proper cheer went up this time, as the storyteller took a bow and people began to retire to their bowers. Tarâsel, however, was still stuck in the story.
Vorla still stalk the Dreamtime.
The words echoed in Tarâselâs head. Could this be what he had just encountered or was he just letting his imagination run away with him? Sinister as they were, the Vorla would not deliberately harm other Sylurians, would they? After all, they
had
made a promise not to interfere. Was the scream from one of their victims?
This was perhaps the weirdest night heâd had in all his sixteen seasons; he needed to speak to someone, but who? Anya was only interested in experimenting with magic she should not be using and Morâseka was looking for any bit of excitement he could find. There really was only one person he could trust with something this big, not just for sound advice but to be discrete.
Tarâsel could see the elders heading towards the hill and the sanctuary of the Nymet temple and his father nearby was preparing to head over and join them. It didnât seem right to interrupt but Tarâsel wouldnât see him for a few days once he has in the temple. He had hoped to speak to him before that. It could wait, couldnât it?
Tarâsel watched the orange sparks coming off the festival fire as they floated one by one into the night sky and winked out and allowed himself to drift off with them. A heavy hand on his shoulder made him jump.
âNow is the time for rest not planning adventures, young one.â
Tarâsel quickly rose to his feet. âI was just thinking about the Vorla, Father. Are they real? Do they really send people mad?â
The leathery face of Tayâmor wrinkled into a smile, his green skin mottled with
In time, the fire within the Benu bird was spent and it returned, exhausted and feeble, to the island of Inish. Once again the Sleeping Mother felt the sadness in its heart. The Rani, Queen of the Vorla, sent her most trusted aide Durga to the surface to attend to the Benu bird on the orders of the Sleeping Mother. So pitiful was the Benu that Durga split the Sylurian sun in two and, extracting a little light from each half, she fed the Benu bird, restoring its beauty.
However, the Benu bird was not content and wished to continue to sing. Durga knew that this could not be allowed; the Benuâs song still echoed through the Triverse, even rippling into the Dreamtime, and a new melody would jar with the original song of the creation, bringing it collapsing in on itself. With the permission of the Rani, she trapped the Benu bird within a crystal jar and wrapped this in layer upon layer of stone.
In spite of its confinement, the Benu bird continued to sing and the stone glowed with its happiness. In this little world, the Benu was perpetually renewed by its own light and song.
The Vorla took the stone deep into the recesses of the crystal caves, gilding it in a beautiful cage of silver, gold and precious jewels. The stone was hung in the chamber of the Rani where it infused her and her diamond veil with its dormant life-giving light. Bathed in the light of the Vorla Lamp, these creatures of living stone lived for millennia in peace and happiness.
Tayâmor paused for a moment, taking in the faces around him as they sat listening intently while passing round mead horns and the last scraps of the feast. A gentle ripple of applause wafted through the crowd, but most knew the story wasnât quite over yet.
Since that time, the Vorla vowed never again to interfere with the evolution of any lifeform within the Triverse, but they still stalk the Dreamtime with an eternal, unquenchable thirst for knowledge. They have even been known to drive men insane in their quest. You would do well, dear friends, to ensure you never sleep on an argument or you may find yourself suffering nightmares, as the curious Vorla discover and unravel your darkened mind.
A proper cheer went up this time, as the storyteller took a bow and people began to retire to their bowers. Tarâsel, however, was still stuck in the story.
Vorla still stalk the Dreamtime.
The words echoed in Tarâselâs head. Could this be what he had just encountered or was he just letting his imagination run away with him? Sinister as they were, the Vorla would not deliberately harm other Sylurians, would they? After all, they
had
made a promise not to interfere. Was the scream from one of their victims?
This was perhaps the weirdest night heâd had in all his sixteen seasons; he needed to speak to someone, but who? Anya was only interested in experimenting with magic she should not be using and Morâseka was looking for any bit of excitement he could find. There really was only one person he could trust with something this big, not just for sound advice but to be discrete.
Tarâsel could see the elders heading towards the hill and the sanctuary of the Nymet temple and his father nearby was preparing to head over and join them. It didnât seem right to interrupt but Tarâsel wouldnât see him for a few days once he has in the temple. He had hoped to speak to him before that. It could wait, couldnât it?
Tarâsel watched the orange sparks coming off the festival fire as they floated one by one into the night sky and winked out and allowed himself to drift off with them. A heavy hand on his shoulder made him jump.
âNow is the time for rest not planning adventures, young one.â
Tarâsel quickly rose to his feet. âI was just thinking about the Vorla, Father. Are they real? Do they really send people mad?â
The leathery face of Tayâmor wrinkled into a smile, his green skin mottled with
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