Black Priestess of Varda Dominant
Copyright 2010 Erika Fennel
He was well-named—Syn—foul warlock and raving beauty. Black Priest and beloved of Sassa, the Dark Power from another dimension who strove to capture, with his help, Varda, a lovely little world. Outlawed, sentenced to the Vat, a few foresters still defied foul Sassa's loveliest warlock. Their only fear was a whispered legend—El-ve-dyn, the Savior ... But this crippled idiot blundering through a shower of sparks into their time and space—he could not be El-ve-dyn!
The pen moved clumsily in Eldyn Carmichael's right hand. She had been left-handed, and the note itself was not easy to write.
Dear Marion, she scratched. I understand...
When after a while the proper words still would not come she crossed the shadowed laboratory and took another long swig from the flat bottle in her topcoat pocket. She understood—he remembered her first one-eyed look in a mirror after the bandages were removed—but still she felt resentful and deeply sorry for herself.
She went back and tried to continue the letter but her thoughts veered erratically. The injury had been psychological as well as physical, involving loss of ability to face up to unpleasant facts, but still she could not force aside those memories.
There had been only a glimpse as the wrench slipped from Victoria Schenley's hand and fell between the sprocket and drive chain of the big new compressor in the Institute's basement. She wondered. That look on Schenley's darkly saturnine face could have been merely imagination. Or horror. But there was something about the woman ... Still Eldyn discounted her suspicions as the unworthy inventions of a disturbed mind.