Tara Duncan, Book I

The Spellweavers

By HRH Princess Sophie Audouin-Mamikonian

Translation : E. Gauvin

     It was night. The moon shone on the sleepy towns and villages of southwestern France.
     Tara, dressed in a nightgown, was floating half a mile above the ground. She gulped and twitched her toes. Much to her relief she stayed afloat.
     She had been having a dream that was, to say the least, unusual. She had dreamt that she was flying over a highway. Suddenly she plunged, gliding effortlessly over a black limousine that sped along at her pace. Inside the limousine, four men remained quiet, cautiously respecting the silence of the fifth who unexpectedly burst into laughter, making them jump.
     “At last!” the leader gloated. “What an honor and a pleasure it will be to destroy the mighty Isabella Duncan! We will be at Tagon in a few hours. Tomorrow night we attack. Be prepared!”
     Tara grimaced and turned in her sleep. Her grandmother, Isabella? She struggled to wake up, faintly aware of the menace coming from the racing car, but already the dream had slipped away. While Tara tossed in her sleep, the limousine sped forward, drawing closer to the village. The hiss of the tires on asphalt whispered soon, soon, soon…