DISCLAIMER: Avenahar, though technically Gillespie's character, has a
personality of my own creation. Some people - Marcus, Aurianne - are her
creations. Others are mine. And the first paragraph (the one with the
stars) is a direct quote from the book "The Light Bearer" by Donna
Gillespie.
AVENAHAR Sequel to Donna Gillespie's "The Light Bearer"
*It was a wolf-ridden night. Early spring in the wastes of Germania was not kind to creatures of warm blood. Wind, snow, and stars ruled here, not man. Night wind played the land like a bone flute, its desolate tones gently rising and falling with the hills. This country was home to the Chattians, the most warlike of the Germanic tribes dwelling beyond the Rhine, and the most independent of their all-conquering neighbor to the south, Imperial Rome. To the Roman world this was the sunless side of the Rhine, ruled by spells and dreasm, where limbs of trees might spring to life and reach down to strangle a man, were bottomless bogs waited with gaped mouths, eager to swallow their bones. *
It was through such a night that Avenahar, granddaughter of the Ash and bastard child of a forgotten Roman soldier, rode with silver wolves upon the stars.
Aurianne of the Chattians, Veleda of the Germanic tribes, wife-in-all-but- name to Marcus Arrius Julianus, provincial Minister of Public Works for the province of Upper Germania, closed her soft and knowing eyes, gazing out onto the forest below her as she stood on the monster of a house that the Romans had built. Never a home - home was running through a dark forest on a chill summer's night. Home was guiding Avenahar through her dances amongst the stars whilst knowing that one day the maid would sing to the stars, dance with the stars, and guide the stars themselves.
Home was, in the deepest hidden depths of midnight, the fighting pit of the gladiators where she had avenged her father.
Sometimes I feel myself past those days. and then, like now, the blood, the battles, the screaming mindless crowd will roll over me and sweep me up into my past. and I shall awaken only to Avenahar's screaming
It was that screaming that told Aurianne that the past must be locked away or opened up, or else her daughter would one day run to the silver wolves and dance forever.
Avenahar dreamily drifted back into the light of day. She lay on her back in a cool pool that flowed off of a sparkling waterfall. Such occurrences happened so often that she had ceased to wonder on how she had come to the place where diamonds flowed, fell, and shattered.
She did not know her age, or her birthingday. Her mother had gone to fight the Romans soon after she had been born. She had known. She had felt every blow her mother had been dealt in the bloody stage of a theatrical war. She had been witness to Aristos' hatred, and Domitian's weakness. She had shared in her mother's passion with the Roman man before she had learned to talk.
Of course, it had taken a while for her to learn to talk, still longer to find a reason. The stars did not ask one to talk, did not demand anything but peace, did not subject her to the constant thoughts and turmoils that ran through those around her.
Ramis had held her as she was born unto the world of the living, and she had watched her as Avenahar flew into the world of life. Ramis protected Avenahar from her own thoughts. Even know, when Ramis was no longer part of this world but of the next, Avenahar still felt her. She still felt the strong hand holding the small chubby one of a young raven-haired girl as she learned to dance. It was Ramis who had taught her how to dance, and why. Aurianne had carried her, and born her, and loved her still - but from Aurianne, Avenahar had learned pain. From Aurianne, Avenahar had felt the desire to flee to the stars. From Aurianne, she felt the pains of the whole world, and they hurt.
I feel your love for me, Mother, truly I do. but I feel your confusion, I feel your worry, I feel the passion you and the Roman share, I am subject to the compassion and understanding that you are subject to because of your duties to the people. You bring colors and passions to my life. but it is like a horse bringing a tree to the forest. Have the Romans taught you nothing? Their word passion means suffering, and you are full of it. You just do not realize it. I am content here with my stars and their passion, Mother. your world scares me so much. You claim the stars as well. but they do not hold you like worldly cares and hopes and joys do.
The stars - ach, Freya, the stars - they are mine.
A small smile stretched lazily across Avenahar's pale face as her bright eyes opened, an odd light burning in pale dull whiteness.
The stars I can see, with their flood of light.
AVENAHAR Sequel to Donna Gillespie's "The Light Bearer"
*It was a wolf-ridden night. Early spring in the wastes of Germania was not kind to creatures of warm blood. Wind, snow, and stars ruled here, not man. Night wind played the land like a bone flute, its desolate tones gently rising and falling with the hills. This country was home to the Chattians, the most warlike of the Germanic tribes dwelling beyond the Rhine, and the most independent of their all-conquering neighbor to the south, Imperial Rome. To the Roman world this was the sunless side of the Rhine, ruled by spells and dreasm, where limbs of trees might spring to life and reach down to strangle a man, were bottomless bogs waited with gaped mouths, eager to swallow their bones. *
It was through such a night that Avenahar, granddaughter of the Ash and bastard child of a forgotten Roman soldier, rode with silver wolves upon the stars.
Aurianne of the Chattians, Veleda of the Germanic tribes, wife-in-all-but- name to Marcus Arrius Julianus, provincial Minister of Public Works for the province of Upper Germania, closed her soft and knowing eyes, gazing out onto the forest below her as she stood on the monster of a house that the Romans had built. Never a home - home was running through a dark forest on a chill summer's night. Home was guiding Avenahar through her dances amongst the stars whilst knowing that one day the maid would sing to the stars, dance with the stars, and guide the stars themselves.
Home was, in the deepest hidden depths of midnight, the fighting pit of the gladiators where she had avenged her father.
Sometimes I feel myself past those days. and then, like now, the blood, the battles, the screaming mindless crowd will roll over me and sweep me up into my past. and I shall awaken only to Avenahar's screaming
It was that screaming that told Aurianne that the past must be locked away or opened up, or else her daughter would one day run to the silver wolves and dance forever.
Avenahar dreamily drifted back into the light of day. She lay on her back in a cool pool that flowed off of a sparkling waterfall. Such occurrences happened so often that she had ceased to wonder on how she had come to the place where diamonds flowed, fell, and shattered.
She did not know her age, or her birthingday. Her mother had gone to fight the Romans soon after she had been born. She had known. She had felt every blow her mother had been dealt in the bloody stage of a theatrical war. She had been witness to Aristos' hatred, and Domitian's weakness. She had shared in her mother's passion with the Roman man before she had learned to talk.
Of course, it had taken a while for her to learn to talk, still longer to find a reason. The stars did not ask one to talk, did not demand anything but peace, did not subject her to the constant thoughts and turmoils that ran through those around her.
Ramis had held her as she was born unto the world of the living, and she had watched her as Avenahar flew into the world of life. Ramis protected Avenahar from her own thoughts. Even know, when Ramis was no longer part of this world but of the next, Avenahar still felt her. She still felt the strong hand holding the small chubby one of a young raven-haired girl as she learned to dance. It was Ramis who had taught her how to dance, and why. Aurianne had carried her, and born her, and loved her still - but from Aurianne, Avenahar had learned pain. From Aurianne, Avenahar had felt the desire to flee to the stars. From Aurianne, she felt the pains of the whole world, and they hurt.
I feel your love for me, Mother, truly I do. but I feel your confusion, I feel your worry, I feel the passion you and the Roman share, I am subject to the compassion and understanding that you are subject to because of your duties to the people. You bring colors and passions to my life. but it is like a horse bringing a tree to the forest. Have the Romans taught you nothing? Their word passion means suffering, and you are full of it. You just do not realize it. I am content here with my stars and their passion, Mother. your world scares me so much. You claim the stars as well. but they do not hold you like worldly cares and hopes and joys do.
The stars - ach, Freya, the stars - they are mine.
A small smile stretched lazily across Avenahar's pale face as her bright eyes opened, an odd light burning in pale dull whiteness.
The stars I can see, with their flood of light.