Young Hieronymus Series
Memories of people, places, and kingdoms Hieronymus has never heard of are creeping into his dreams and tearing him apart. He fears insanity unless he finds a solution. Hoping to find help in Kyr-Darst from the local monks of Mrynlinn he soon discovers the big city can be just as dangerous as the wilderness outside.
A short story set in the fantasy world of Bulinnärm.
Copyright © 2013 by L Frank Turovich. All Rights Reserved Worldwide.
Revised June 2017.
An excerpt from Amaranthine Dreams:
The countryside was beautiful.
Hieronymus had been following the trade road for the last couple of days when he came upon a side trail, just two wagon tracks leading away to his left. A crudely lettered sign indicated destinations. To the north it pointed to the lumber and fishing town of Brularn, a place he had visited a few times with his father selling barrels of succulent rill-rill fish. At the opposite end was carved Duer-lorn, the place where the Huntress, Lady Ilarhia wished to take him, willingly or not.
He shuddered at the memory. The arrival of the Huntress had triggered the first manifestation of his magical abilities, and he had been running ever since. With the support of his friend Kaevan and the monks of Mrynlinn he had escaped being captured and put to death for simply having the talent. Now he was free and traveling to Kyr-Darst to learn more about his magical power.
Beneath the weather beaten board was another pointing toward the west, the name Braewickinn scribed upon it. The sight of it left a doleful lump in his heart. He so wanted to follow that trail, to once again go to sea and fish alongside his dad, to eat his mothers cooking alongside his brothers and sisters, to see Fulimera’s wide smile, and talk with Kaevan just once more. He wiped moist eyes clear and sniffled loudly.
But Kaevan was dead and the Huntress would never give up looking for him. The reward for his capture was too large for her and other hunters to ignore, while the humiliation he had dealt her would drive her continued pursuit. He turned his mount and rode away feeling lonely and lost.
That night he settled into camp late, having used the bright light from the twin moons Lystennielle and Lindruuth to guide his way, their sister Issyr was in one of her dark phases. It was a good place to camp, well away from the trade road, hidden by thick trees on a grassy hill that his mount munched on with enthusiasm. The breeze carried a floral scent that he thought he should know but yet could not identify.
It bothered him a bit, he knew that smell, but its memory refused to surface. He ate a cold almost tasteless meal before covering the small fire and bedding down. The sky was clear, the air mild, the stars glittering overhead, while an animal howled from somewhere nearby, sounding a bit lonely in the darkness.
It took Hieronymus a long time to fall asleep.