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Authors: Dionne Lister
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aunt kept the secret of her real age. No one knew why practicing realmistry increased longevity, but it could increase a lifespan up to tenfold. Bronwyn was looking forward to a long, long life—but it had negative aspects the young girl could not possibly imagine.
Using power from the Second Realm was not forbidden. Most people didn't believe it could be done, but the population’s general ignorance and superstitions ensured prejudice against so-called realmists was ingrained. If you claimed to be a realmist, most either thought you a liar or feared you. In order to hide her true vocation, Avruellen had found when she had been somewhere for a number of years, it was wise to disappear or fake her own death. As a consequence, she had left many good friends and family in her wake. Her old heart had broken too many times to count, so if Bronwyn noticed a lack of affection it was probably true; an inevitable by-product of a person whose emotions had been sacrificed to duty. Avruellen hoped Bronwyn didn't end up as closed to love as she had.
Avruellen berated herself for harping on what couldn't be changed. She had to keep all her thoughts on the present. Were they already being targeted? The noble realmist was surprised at how she, the most powerful woman on earth, could feel so helpless. She looked back at her charges. "How are you going back there?"
"Fine. Why the speed? You'd think we were being chased by Zebla's hounds." Zebla was an evil goddess, who myth had it, disguised herself as a white snow wolf to capture the affection of Nevus, the god of winter. When the god saw Zebla (in her wolven form) he felt such great affection, he welcomed her into his family and escorted her to his mountain-top cave. On the first night, as the god slept, Zebla assumed her true form and placed a collar of flame around his neck. The collar, a visual embodiment of her power, captured the god. The snow of a hundred years, which lasted throughout his incarceration, covered the earth and led to the starvation of many men and beasts, only melting when he managed to escape and gain control of his winter. He would not have escaped had it not been for a jealous underling, Phyrmon, who coveted Zebla's interest. Phyrmon set Nevus free when his mistress was away. When Zebla returned, she knew instantly what had happened. As far as the legend goes, poor old Phyrmon was currently passing his days as a guinea pig for Zebla's fascination with poisons. She tested each new poison she created on Phyrmon. He was constantly subjected to slow death by excruciating pain, only to be brought back again and again. The gods could be so cruel.
"Not Zebla's hounds , dear, but it's rude to be late for an appointment."
"What appointment?"
"You'll see dear, you'll see, but only if you can keep up." With that, Avruellen forged ahead. The girls looked at each other, rolling their eyes, and with no other choice, ran to catch up.
Despite Avruellen's misgivings, the next few days unfolded uneventfu lly. They were making good time. If nothing untoward happened, they would be in Bayerlon on the ninth day, as scheduled. Three nights before their planned arrival they came upon a homestead not far from the road. The occupants were a couple whose children had recently married and left home. Their farm produced vegetables, milk, and cheese. Avruellen decided it would be nice to sleep indoors for a change and had an eye on what appeared to be a small, vacant, timber cottage situated away from the main house. The travellers approached the inviting homestead to ask if they could spend the night (for a fee of course) in the compact domicile. The farmer and his wife agreed. Not only did they provide lodgings, they offered freshly baked bread, vegetable soup, and roast meat for dinner. Avruellen and Bronwyn declined the meat but were more than happy to accept the rest. Corrille was ecstatic to eat meat for a change. She had eaten very little before her exposure due to her own
Using power from the Second Realm was not forbidden. Most people didn't believe it could be done, but the population’s general ignorance and superstitions ensured prejudice against so-called realmists was ingrained. If you claimed to be a realmist, most either thought you a liar or feared you. In order to hide her true vocation, Avruellen had found when she had been somewhere for a number of years, it was wise to disappear or fake her own death. As a consequence, she had left many good friends and family in her wake. Her old heart had broken too many times to count, so if Bronwyn noticed a lack of affection it was probably true; an inevitable by-product of a person whose emotions had been sacrificed to duty. Avruellen hoped Bronwyn didn't end up as closed to love as she had.
Avruellen berated herself for harping on what couldn't be changed. She had to keep all her thoughts on the present. Were they already being targeted? The noble realmist was surprised at how she, the most powerful woman on earth, could feel so helpless. She looked back at her charges. "How are you going back there?"
"Fine. Why the speed? You'd think we were being chased by Zebla's hounds." Zebla was an evil goddess, who myth had it, disguised herself as a white snow wolf to capture the affection of Nevus, the god of winter. When the god saw Zebla (in her wolven form) he felt such great affection, he welcomed her into his family and escorted her to his mountain-top cave. On the first night, as the god slept, Zebla assumed her true form and placed a collar of flame around his neck. The collar, a visual embodiment of her power, captured the god. The snow of a hundred years, which lasted throughout his incarceration, covered the earth and led to the starvation of many men and beasts, only melting when he managed to escape and gain control of his winter. He would not have escaped had it not been for a jealous underling, Phyrmon, who coveted Zebla's interest. Phyrmon set Nevus free when his mistress was away. When Zebla returned, she knew instantly what had happened. As far as the legend goes, poor old Phyrmon was currently passing his days as a guinea pig for Zebla's fascination with poisons. She tested each new poison she created on Phyrmon. He was constantly subjected to slow death by excruciating pain, only to be brought back again and again. The gods could be so cruel.
"Not Zebla's hounds , dear, but it's rude to be late for an appointment."
"What appointment?"
"You'll see dear, you'll see, but only if you can keep up." With that, Avruellen forged ahead. The girls looked at each other, rolling their eyes, and with no other choice, ran to catch up.
Despite Avruellen's misgivings, the next few days unfolded uneventfu lly. They were making good time. If nothing untoward happened, they would be in Bayerlon on the ninth day, as scheduled. Three nights before their planned arrival they came upon a homestead not far from the road. The occupants were a couple whose children had recently married and left home. Their farm produced vegetables, milk, and cheese. Avruellen decided it would be nice to sleep indoors for a change and had an eye on what appeared to be a small, vacant, timber cottage situated away from the main house. The travellers approached the inviting homestead to ask if they could spend the night (for a fee of course) in the compact domicile. The farmer and his wife agreed. Not only did they provide lodgings, they offered freshly baked bread, vegetable soup, and roast meat for dinner. Avruellen and Bronwyn declined the meat but were more than happy to accept the rest. Corrille was ecstatic to eat meat for a change. She had eaten very little before her exposure due to her own
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