A Time of Darkness by Dionne Lister

Author:Dionne Lister [Lister, Dionne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Fantasy
Publisher: Dionne Lister
Published: 2013-04-05T00:00:00+00:00

Wherever they were going, Bronwyn knew once they got there, she would never leave. It was apparent no help was coming. It was time to help herself and do what Avruellen had trained her to do her whole life. If she got it wrong, well, at least she had tried. She burrowed her awareness into the ground and found what she was looking for: a thick stream of power just waiting to be tapped.

“Keep going.” Bronwyn’s least favorite person pushed her with a meaty fist.

“No.” Bronwyn turned to face the tyrant. “This is where I tell you what a horse’s ass you are and take my friend and leave.”

“Bronwyn, no, don’t! They’ll kill you.” Corrille and Morth stopped, while his mother readied her dagger, yet again, raising the tip to Bronwyn’s face.

Without taking her eyes off Morth’s mother, Bronwyn answered her friend, “Corrille, if we go wherever they’re taking us, that’s it. We’re dead.” To Morth’s mother, she said, “I hope whatever you’re getting paid is worth dying for.”

With fury in her eyes, the older woman grabbed Bronwyn’s arm and opened her mouth to deliver a threat, which Bronwyn cut off. Holding as much of the power as she could, she opened both palms outward, towards Morth’s mother. Staring into the depths of her depraved eyes, Bronwyn didn’t flinch as she released the ball of white-hot energy flowing through her veins.

Bronwyn had never released that amount of power at one time and the force caused her to stumble backwards—the woman’s grip on her arm ripped free. The realmist held her gaze and saw her face twist in pain and surprise as she felt the missile blast a hole right through her middle. The sizzling heat cauterized the wound: even after Morth’s mother lay dead on the scattered rocks and stubs of gray grasses, no blood stained the ground; however, scented tendrils of burnt flesh lingered.

Satisfied she was dead, Bronwyn, overcome with dizziness, fell to her knees.

“No!” Morth ran to his mother. He caressed her face and kissed her cheek. Crouching, he turned wild eyes on Bronwyn. “You!” Not bothering to stand up, he crawled to her and grabbed a fistful of her long, dark hair. Yanking it back so her throat was exposed, he pulled his own dagger from a sheath strapped to his ankle. Bronwyn recognized the intricate patterns and thought how ironic that she would be killed with the blade given with love by her aunt. She tried to reach for more power but couldn’t hold more than a trickle—maybe enough to sting him like a squeeto. Oh well, she thought as she directed it between his eyes. It was enough to surprise him, and he released her hair.

As soon as he let go, she brought the heel of her hand up and smashed him in the nose. Morth fell backwards, bleeding and drawing Second Realm power as he went. Bronwyn dragged herself to her feet and without looking back, shouted at Corrille to follow. Bronwyn forced her weak legs to move.

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