With a Mighty Swing of My Arms

  • by jen“I believe your name is Troy.”
  • I’ve heard old Rosie was a wild one
  • father of three of her children
  • still married to another man
  • seems, like, hard and stuff.

Tune in next time part 309      Click Here for Earlier Installments

With a mighty swing of my arms, I whipped Jove’s boots at the two nearest Fire Eaters. The rare earth minerals clinging to their soles ignited in the eye-watering fumes wafting from the Fire Eaters’ mouths. In seconds, a chain reaction of explosions rid the clearing of the entire Fire Eater war party, and a good number of the TechoPagans as well.

The Mizzenpreistess stepped forward unscathed, and pointed a bony finger at me. “I believe your name is Troy.”

I couldn’t imagine where she’d gotten that idea as I didn’t look much like my brother Troy or his twin Trent. We didn’t even have the same father.

The old woman read my incredulity on my face, or maybe my eyebrows were still giving coded messages. Either way she laughed and said, “I’ve heard old Rosie was a wild one.”

My mother’s name is ZsaZsa, and my father calls her Ralph, but to her siblings she was always Rosie. Was this TechnoPagan priestess my aunt? I tried to think which of Mother’s sisters she might be.

“Wild Rose we called her,” the woman continued. “Always carrying on with married men. Did you know that the Warlord of Contraria is the father of three of her children, at least, and she’s still married to another man? She said she had to stay in the marriage to keep up appearances so she could be president, but that seems, like, hard and stuff.

“She and my father have an understanding,” I muttered. I’d always wondered why Mother had such a soft spot for Contraria, and this might explain it. I could only assume that I was not one of the children fathered by my father-in-law. I took comfort in the strong resemblance I paid to Jack, the man I’d always been told was my sire.

Standing among the smoldering remains of so many Fire Eaters, Jason looked hard at the Mizzenpriestess and asked, “Are you our fabled Aunt Xylona?”

I gasped, knowing it must be true.

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