Twilight Hearts

By Eden Arthur

Ages of Mages Althea has waited a thousand years to gain revenge on the mage who stole her powers. Clues from her past may help, but sooner or later she knows the mage will return to gloat. Althea will be ready. Masquerade Chloe hasn't been herself for some time and she's determined to find the person responsible for changing her life. She'll use the masquerade ball to uncover the culprit and exact her revenge, but not all is as it seems. The Stuff Dreams Are Made Of Marian's taken time from work to see if she has what it takes to become an artist in her own right. With a country setting for inspiration, her paintings capture the essence of a man who lived a century earlier. A voice in her dreams gives her direction, but also keeps hidden one very important little fact.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Whiskey Creek Press
• Release date: Jul 1, 2009
• ISBN: 9781603135733

Book preview

TWILIGHT HEARTS

by

Eden Arthur

WHISKEY CREEK PRESS

www.whiskeycreekpress.com

Published by

WHISKEY CREEK PRESS

www.whiskeycreekpress.com

Copyright © 2009 by Eden Arthur

Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 (five) years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

ISBN: 978-1-60313-573-3

Credits

Editor: Dave Field

Printed in the United States of America

Ages of Mages

Part I

No…no…definitely not you…no. Althea perched on the highest lintel of the stone circle and scanned the faces of each visitor approaching its perimeter. The tourist guide came nearer, reciting by rote his list of historical facts concerning this circle. Althea wondered if the words meant anything to him. She made a wry face and shouted down to him. Maybe you wouldn’t be so boring if you changed your speech once in a while. He went on with his usual long-winded lecture as always, oblivious to her presence. Althea again searched the faces in the crowd for the long awaited one.

Can’t we go to the center of this one? one of the tourists asked, disappointed when the guide called them to a halt at the outer edge of the standing stones.

No. I’m sorry, the guide replied. This one’s unsafe. Sometimes you can feel a ghostly presence surrounding the stones. Unfortunately, they seem to be rather quiet today. They can put on quite the show when it suits them. The professors say there’s some sort of vortex within the circle where perceptions are altered. The last time someone managed to enter it he had a nervous breakdown. Rather than take chances, we no longer allow anyone inside, at least until we understand what causes it. He didn’t mention the violent shock others had received when they attempted to step within.

The ground shook, leaving the tourists struggling for balance. Just as quickly, the shaking subsided, and they looked back to their guide for assurance. He shrugged. Not an earthquake, or any kind of seismic tremor, but it happens often and the stones tremble at times. Another reason we’d rather not risk one of you being hurt within the circle. We ask that you remain well on the outside to take your pictures. Several people mumbled their disappointment, but quickly settled down and resumed listening to the guide’s narrative. Here and there words about ghosts made their way into whispered conversations. Other tourists took a few steps backward, putting a small distance between themselves and the unstable site.

Vortex, huh? Is that what they call it now? Althea looked down with disgust on the group. She shouted down at them. I am bloody well trapped in here! Is it a wonder strange things happen? She raised her hands as if in supplication, then lowered them to her lap. Why am I shouting? You have no idea I am here. Her words carried the weariness of age. Althea blew out a sigh. She was well aware of her ghostly guard, set as a final line of defense if she should manage to get beyond the outer stones. The criminal, she’d heard over time, always returns to the scene of the crime. She waited for one such criminal to return, then…

After a thousand years, only two capstones still remained balanced atop their vertical supports. Althea sat on the larger horizontal stone and announced to the group, Do you know how boring this place can be? Sitting here day after day after century until a millennium has passed? Yes, a millennium. A thousand years. I have to find something to entertain myself until I find the one for whom I wait. She sighed again and hugged one knee, her other leg swinging slowly back and forth over the edge of the stone.

Ask how the circle was built, she mocked, and laughed when one of the tourists actually asked the same question of their guide. Althea rolled her eyes when the guide replied with his usual answer. He was about as knowledgeable of the circle’s creation as she was of modern technology. She didn’t care about things people had now, but he should have some understanding and respect for the past. Challenging him was the high point of her day. When he finished, she leaned over the edge of her precarious seat and shouted down to him again. "If you asked me nicely, I just might tell you the real story. I know exactly how it was built and who built it."

The group of tourists gathered closer to the outer stones, and one woman rubbed her arms as if brushing off a sudden chill. She barely shook her head and glanced about. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, she turned back, listening intently to their guide, but Althea shook her head. How wrong could they be? Oh, yes, she had the answers, but she wasn’t about to give them up without exacting a price. There was one question she, herself, longed to have answered. The problem was, the only one with the answer was not here.

A few moments later the group wandered away from the site. They stopped just long enough to snap the required photographs to show friends when they returned home. A while ago she had seen some tourists exchanging pictures. By using some new magic the little boxes made lovely little paintings of the things they saw, but she could never figure out how the one word spell worked. Cheese? It sounded utterly ridiculous. One or two of these visitors turned back to take a distance shot before rejoining their companions and continuing their tour.

Althea watched their four-wheeled chariot swallow them up, then roll off into the distance, sputtering, groaning and growling horribly. She had learned a little about modern things by watching. A body did not sit on cold stone several feet above the ground for ages, and not learn anything. She covered her ears and winced when the metal monster wheezed along, slowly picking up speed. A terrible belching sound followed. She supposed the monsters did no harm to the people, or they would never be so willing to step into the maws of such a creature. Several people looked back out of transparent holes in the beast’s sides, some staring directly at her, but they never saw her. By now she had decided the thing was made of metal and enchanted in some way to make it carry people where they wished to go.

She sat above the ground and stared at the departing vehicle. Althea had watched people come and go for a long time. Her frustration grew through the years. No one had the answer she sought—not that they would understand the question—but one day she would recognize what she awaited, when it appeared.

Althea looked down and watched a timid hare approach the circle. It stopped beside one of the columns and its nose twitched, testing the air for danger. Finding none, it moved further into the center, closer to the small patch of clover near the altar stone. Downwind, a red fox watched its prey, anticipating a late supper. It stealthily moved forward, closing the gap between them.

Althea watched them for a moment or two, and, when it seemed the fox was ready to pounce, she waved her hand. The hare grew rapidly into a large brown furred creature. Its muzzle elongated and when it roared, its sharp teeth became prominent. It stood on its hind legs and roared again. The fox stopped in its tracks at the sight of the bear, then turned and yipped in fear as it raced to safer ground. Althea laughed, and with a wave of her hand made the bear disappear, leaving the hare to wonder what had just happened to it.

The day faded and clouds of magenta and purple obscured the setting sun, yet still allowed glints of molten gold to peep through the gathering dusk. Althea watched the show of Nature’s magic with the same awe as when she was a child sitting on the hillside beside her mother, before they came and took her to the training place. She had not wanted to go. Her mother smiled through tears and told her what a great honor it was, how soon she would be welcomed back to their village as a revered wise one. She never saw her mother again.

Would you like to hear a tale of magic? she cried out, wishing the people who had just left—at least one of them—could have heard her plea and turned back to hear her story. If they did, they might provide the help she needed, but it wasn’t to be, and tonight the loneliness was especially cruel.

Althea leaped to the ground, landing gracefully despite the height of the drop. She walked the length of the altar