Torn from her children. Burdened with a quest as payment.
Sarah has found the one being who has the power and resources to break her curse. The price for this supernatural’s aid is high. She is to be ripped from her children, so she can tackle a mission in a distant land. Even with her allies, it will be a leap into the unknown.
Yet her children and her friends feel the aid is worth it. Perhaps they can see what she cannot. That she needs to regain whatever portion of her life is left from before the curse destroyed her world.
This quest has problems of its own. Hampered by politics and veniality, this human woman must navigate her way through the world beyond the Veil. She must command the respect of Shifters unbound by any treaty, and ride rippling changes in the supernatural world to hope for success.
Can Sarah complete her quest and regather the remaining fragments of her life before the curse? Will she be able to resume being a mother to her children once this task is done?
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I was about to discover why so many Magicsiders preferred air travel to other methods. Oh, portals were used to transport goods all the time. That is how our luggage kept pace with us. However, there was one tiny problem with using this method to transport living beings. If the path the portal was traversing crossed any significant body of water, that being would go from living to dead very quickly.
It helped that we had put on the heavy winter gear. The north border in Sumoi lands was cold at this time of year.
Most people preferred to stay living. So that left either crossing the Fae lands or the nearby planes. Both had their risks, but the local Fae lords in Finland at that time were so wrapped up in their own conflicts that crossing their lands was considered safer than risking elemental turbulence on any of the elemental planes.
Using the edges of Heaven or Hell would have been a terrible idea with Anslem along. Both Demons and Angels would try to capture him.
Because of my curse, the Astral and Etheric were right out. That condition would act as a beacon to every being there. I was as likely to attract horror as help.
Anslem explained the rules of travel as we headed to the grove with the nearest gate to Fae lands. “First, stay on the path. Bad things will happen if you leave the path. Keep your eyes on the traveler in front of you. We will have a guide for this trip, and I will play rearguard.”
“Second, while nothing can hurt you if you keep to the trail, there are plenty of things that will make you think they can hurt you. These are trying to trick you, are used to push you off the path where they can grab you. Do not let them.”
Our source of odd knowledge on the supernatural paused expectantly and looked at us expectantly. His warning was in a tone that was flat and intense, warning of dire consequences if we did not follow these instructions. Once we nodded our understanding, Anslem continued.
“The third peculiarity is that your appearance may change while we are over there. Don’t let it upset you. A person remains themselves unless they allow the realm to start taking over. If you do, this trip is short enough, the changes won’t be permanent. But they could be inconvenient.”
Both of us women nodded our understanding of his directions. The army style truck that had transported us to our intermediate destination slowed to a stop, and the engine cut off. The sour younger man from the Finns who had met us soon poked his head into the rear compartment and said, “Next stop, The Raja Sumoi region. All debark for a change in transportation.”
I was born on Remembrance day, I was early. My mother wanted me to be born at 11, but the doctors delivered me at 9:30. I’m contrary like that. My childhood was shaped by a bout of meningitis, that was diagnosed by my grandmother over the phone. She was one of her generation’s few female doctors. The effects of which, including loss of fine motor control, would shape the rest of my life. Proving you can still be a writer with bad handwriting, but not bad enough for me to follow in her footsteps and become a doctor.
I may not be a surgeon now, but I still like sharp things. Swords are my thing, and I studied Iaijutsu, and a plethora of other martial arts, with and without blades. Not in the serial killer kind of way, but more of a curious enthusiast. Also the blunted weapons, gotta have a bit of a thump. Tie that in with 15 years of medieval reenactment (and no I don’t mean ren-fair) and studying history and philosophy at uni. I’ve got a lot of knowledge built around weaponry, tactics and military history.
I spent some time in cadets, and a lot more around soldiers and ex-soldiers. I learnt how to shoot, gun safety, camping, how to march, how to navigate with a map and compass (forget that GPS stuff) and other basic military skills, like how to make a verse in a marching tune about each individual in the unit. Hopefully some of that comes across in the realism I put into the more military oriented books.
I’m always working on several fictional worlds simultaneously, including a collaboration with Michael Anderle. Some of my works have been published, maybe more by the time you’re reading this, while hundreds more pages are lying orphaned in my incomplete folders. So, I’m generally working on three books (at least) at any one time. One day they’ll all be out there for you to read. In the meantime I’m living in a regional town in Australia, with a day’s drive to the nearest capital city.
Right now I live at home with my partner of eight years, and between novels I’m a full time carer. I’m completing my bachelors degree with a major is philosophy, and right now I’m applying that learning to the deep question of whether a self-published author can survive on more than cat food. This is a terribly important question, as I have two beagles to feed. I am wary of bumps in the house due to my partner’s severe epilepsy. The nurse beagles assist me in keeping an ear out enthusiastically… oh so enthusiastically… in this.