“Whatever you do, count me in,” Sean said hoarsely.
“And I,” Eliandor said from the doorway.
“Don’t think I’m not going,” Tom said quickly.
“But Tom,” Breanna said, “she’s no relation of yours. You have no need to go.”
“We are a family of sorts,” he replied. “And what hurts one of us hurts us all.
Eliandor frowned, knowing what was coming. He had seen it in his dreams, and Illene read it in the leaves. There would never be peace, nor would the world be right as long as Yahmara was free. He mused over the incidents that had brought them this far and knew it was not done. The witch had to be stopped. Sighing, he surveyed the haven and wondered if he would see it again after the next foray. With heavy heart he spoke to those listening, and to his ancestors.
“Dreadful though it may be, this reckoning will come. Pray we all live to see beyond it.”
The End, The Memories, Book One,
The Gantlet
******************
If you liked this story, don’t miss:
The Memories, Book Two, The Reckoning, further adventures of Breanna, Sean, Elida, and Captain Rand. The first chapter is included below. I hope you enjoy it.
1.
If someone searched long and hard, he might catch a glimpse of light bouncing off faery glass, or see a shape flit across shadows in the deep forest above the Mist River. A diligent watcher might even question faint angles and lines in the serene canvas created by age-gnarled trees. But only the very gifted stranger would ever guess that an entire civilization of people lived behind the peaceful façade.
Long, long ago, Ziglianor Pentara, the ancient grandfather of Lord Eliandor, used elven magic and a long-lasting spell to conceal the myriad of domiciles built of river mud and polished stone within the trees. Diaphanous clouds daily cast shade and shadows upon ornate balconies trimmed in delicate, twisted gold and iron. The individual designs were so clever that anyone observing the finished work knew instantly they were made by elven crafters. These tucked-away magical rooms housed both elves and Qays, offering privacy and comfort to all who came and went from the sumptuous quarters inside.
Huge portals, also protected by magic, were blocked from the uninvited stranger’s entry, for although elves were not by nature unfriendly to their neighbors, after the battle with the witch Yahmara Cromcroft in the village of Parth, all curious souls were watched more carefully, for those inside the haven knew the worst was yet to come.
Messages of great evil had recently come to Lord Eliandor Pentara, the governing councilor of the western lands, and the overseer of Pentara Haven, and he wished it were not so, but all that had been foreseen by his ancient relatives appeared on the horizon as truth. Sometimes as he strode through the peaceful vales and deep forest of his family home, he searched for the serenity of the past, but deep in his heart, Eliandor knew what he must do before such a state was possible.
His beloved mate, Illene, studied his face, and, seeing new lines etched in the corners of his kind eyes, felt compassion for his sadness. She, too, had read the prophecy of Ziglianor, and dreaded the all-out battle for their world, for they, like all other life, had everything to lose if evil controlled the world.
There was no more time, for the approach of the Spectre, and his attempts to rule the aboveground world would begin soon, and everyone and everything loved and valued was at risk. A more solemn couple could not be found, as the Pentaras contemplated what might lie ahead for them, their kin, and the rest of their world.
After the first week of safety in her grandparents’ home, Breanna Ascroft decided she liked her relatives quite a lot, especially her grandmother Illene, a beautiful lady who appeared no older than Mathena, Breanna’s mother. To keep her aged fingers flexible, Lady Illene wove baskets from straw, and decorated them with tiny, brilliantly colored, drilled river stones. Often she would begin one of her creations in the morning, only to be done before early tea. The result of her work was an exquisitely woven piece with an aura of magic about it.
One morning, in the early days after Breanna’s return from saving young Elida Vale from the black-hearted witch Yahmara, Illene presented her granddaughter with a new quiver for her red-fletched arrows. Decorated with the polished stones from beneath the falls, the basket and cap were woven from the thin, delicate grasses of Pentara Haven, and as Illene explained, “they were only lightly spelled for staying dry during storms.”
“Wet arrows are not always true to the mark,” the elven lady told Breanna with a wistful expression, remembering her youth when she was the best archer in her family. “There is room for your fox if he tucks his head,” she said with a smile.
Little Kit, the red fox, had grown to full size, although he would always be diminutive among his own kind. Each day, Breanna took him to see Elida, to let him smell her, and remember the girl who saved him from death. She also encouraged the young fox to visit the woodlands, and find friends, but the one time he went alone, a large brown bear frightened him away. Breanna sighed, thinking Kit believed he was the same type of creature as his two-legged friends.
Two full moons had passed since Elida first awakened from her deep sleep, but nothing had changed with the child. She was still frightened of those who had saved her, but she was happy when the fox was with her. The little girl remembered nothing about her old life, to include the long days of captivity at Parth after a giant Phoebus had carried her there in response to Yahmara’s commands.
Breanna believed the witch had used the bird to taunt her, for at ten years old, she too had been similarly abducted by a giant carrion eater in the sky. Just one more reason to hate the witch had been added to Breanna’s list.
Sean, Elida’s brother, preferred to stay away from his sister. The empty expression on her face when he spoke of home and their parents was too much for him to bear. A fly-and-locust-made demon had killed their father and mother in a grisly attack at their farm. The two children, along with Breanna, had escaped the horrific scene in their family’s fishing boat amidst hunger, cold, and grief.
On a warm autumn morning as the Pentara household went about daily duties, Breanna left her completed tasks and walked near the waterfall. Her concern for her parents, Mathena and Lyman foremost in her thoughts. Neither of the adult Ascrofts, nor any of the other six sisters, had arrived from Nore Mountain, and Breanna was anxious and saddened by the thought that perhaps they had changed their minds about relocating to Pentara Haven. Life in the hollow tree had been good when she was a child, but Breanna had no desire to live there again. Still, it was her parents’ home, and for centuries, they had been comfortable there. She, on the other hand, remembered the nearness of her neighbors and the lack of privacy within the crowded cottages, even though she was taken out from under their noses one summer night.
That Ely Vingus, the leader of the two abductors who had stolen her away, kept his plans close enough to accomplish the deed, was definite proof both he and his friend Tam Teeple had been protected by witchcraft. No other explanation would do in the too-close community, and even after the two confessed they must have done the crime, none could imagine how the foul deed had been accomplished without waking the others, especially the girl’s parents.
Although Breanna had only been ten years old at the time of her kidnapping, she still recalled with horrified clarity her flight in the grasp of the giant, red-eyed Phoebus.
About an hour after early teatime, several days later, an elven sentry arrived with a message for the councilor, and both Eliandor and Illene retired to their rooms afterward. Later, Breanna caught a glimpse of her elderly grandparents as they danced to the music of lutes by performed by musicians on the main balcony. She was curious, for a great deal was needed to heighten Eliandor’s moods. Accustomed to his stoic acceptance of nature, she cherished a hope of someday being able to emulate his behavior, and find peace in her world. Thus, she became more and more curious as the hours passed and her grandfather’s face
remained lit by anticipation.
Finally, the sentry returned, only this time he led a large group inside the meeting room. First came Breanna’s parents, and immediately following them marched long lines of their extended families, until over half of Tribe Qay made their way into the spacious rooms of the haven, where they were welcomed by Lord Eliandor and Lady Illene.
Mathena searched the room for her child while telling of the long and difficult journey from her familiar home on Nore Mountain. “Water,” she said, “was scarce along the roads. Lakes that before had been refuges for wildlife, and generous suppliers of drinking water for elves and humans, had become deep, dry holes in the ground.”
Breanna broke through the crowd and ran to her father with her arms extended. She remembered Lyman’s patient, broad face, and the many times he had carried her away from danger when she was small. She thought of the babe she had been, and the love her father had shown her. He had changed very little, except for new worry lines. The loss of his ten-year old daughter had taken its toll on the Qay who now hugged her.
“Poppa, I’m so glad to see you. I…missed you and Mam so much,” she said, crying, as Lyman embraced her. “I am so happy you came.”
Mathena glanced at her life partner and sighed. “She has become fully grown, this child of ours. Thank the Creator she is safe.”
“Yes, I thank the Creator we are all here together. I am saddened we missed all your childhood years, Breanna, but today is what we have, and we must be glad,” Lyman said. Gathering his wife and daughter to him, he shuddered with the memory of being told his only child was dead. He refused to speak now of the anguish he had suffered afterward. When he received the message Mathena sent by raven, that their child was alive, Lyman had wept tears of happiness. Later, he knew he would never be a neighbor of Ely Vingus again, for his instinct had been to destroy the one who had taken Breanna from her bed. Murder had never before been a part of life on Nore Mountain, but Lyman believed he might be the first to introduce it.
There were other, stranger difficulties they faced as the group traveled from Nore Mountain. Trouble sprouted in various places, probably caused by chaos in the east. Due to watering places having gone dry, many of the woodland creatures were on the move, searching for not only a place to drink, but food sources. Smaller game had already been taken by forest predators, leaving little for the Qays when they hunted. Much of their time was spent searching for food for so many people.
Blue-gray Phoebus patrolled the skies, watching greedily for downed deer. As soon as a Qay archer took aim and found his target, the bird was there to snatch it away. Soon, patrols were sent out with the hunters to protect their kills, leaving the camp vulnerable to attack from Orbels and Kruks. Two members of their group were lost to those beasts before it was over.
“Lyman, did you see witches?” Tom asked.
“Nay, we saw their work, but not their cowls,” Lyman answered. “Cottages near and far smoked from old burning, and farms that should have been green were black with soot.”
Quietness settled on the listeners as Lyman described the devastation they had seen.
“Herds of Farqells moved from the highlands to the old river valleys searching for grass, but there was little or none growing in the dryness. A migration of those friendly beasts moved on toward Everclear Lake and beyond. Those left in the hollow tree will have no help next spring when it is time for plowing.
“This was not natural work. The evil sisters sparked the fires and the drought, you can be sure, for brimstone’s smell filled the air for leagues, but at least the Tiborn ran true, and that was a blessing from the Creator himself. As we approached it from the south, we saw every kind of beast marching toward the flowing water.
“Villagers in unburned hamlets became prey to the meat eaters. Like in days gone by on the Darth,” he said, remembering the tragedies there. “Wouldn’t surprise me to know a great many have died cruel deaths.
“Councilor, there are terrible deeds being done,” Lyman continued, turning to Eliandor. “Seems to be no reason to the destruction. A celebration for fools is how I see it. This must be stopped.”
“Now we know for sure it is not over,” Lord Eliandor said quietly to Breanna and the seven after the next phase of the moon. “After your father’s reports, I sent messages to the east, to my kin at Haven Breithweit. They have acknowledged what we already knew. Evil is stirring again, and there are rumors of the Spectre’s participation.”
The listeners sat beneath the canopy of a giant lotus tree, enjoying the afternoon air, and all were aware the rest of the world was not as fortunate as Pentara Haven.
“A great plague has been loosed, and is destroying the villages of men, one after the other,” Eliandor said solemnly. “Behind the plague beasts follow, leaving scores upon scores of dry bones the color of chalk from the white hills. Within hours, the bones break, and become poisonous dust filling the air. Everywhere death stalks the land.”
“Councilor, is this a new plague, dreamed by the Spectre’s dark men?” Miralda asked. She apologized for the interruption, but it concerned her if spells of such proportion were being cast upon the land.
Sighing, Eliandor replied, “We don’t know, but believe such is true. The violence of the plague’s overshadowing would seem drawn from the minds of spell spinners. Forgive me, Miralda, I mean no disrespect for your own abilities, but if it is true, then better we know what we are fighting.”
At once, all who heard his last words responded. “What? We are returning to battle?”
Mathena’s cheeks blazed, and it was obvious to her grandfather she relished the idea of another opportunity to take Yahmara to task.
“Perhaps,” he replied. “The beasts of prey which quickly appear to consume the flesh of the plague’s victims are fierce, and rightly or not, there is no king who will send his men into such a nightmare to search for survivors.
“The dawn of every new day brings a red sun, they say, and the air is full of its misery. In some villages, the sweat of men runs red as their skin falls away from the bone in the bloody sunlight. Great Phoebus watch the villagers, waiting for them to die. They have no need to kill.
“The Spectre controls his minions in the above-world and they have no fear of reprisal from either men or elves. The Abbess has been forgiven. A contrite Yahmara bent her knee, swearing full allegiance without pride, anxious to do his will. They do not fear of us, for they believe after our showing at Parth, we have no more interest in what occurs.”
“What must be done, Grandfather? I will go,” Mathena said bravely, touching her belly where new life grew.
“No, Mathena, you will not. Your place is here, and so is your mate’s. The child growing inside you will need parents. Only Miralda, Winona, and Willow shall go with us. The final confrontation will be near the city of Thrum, on Thrumford Mountain, where the dark forces have gathered. The Spectre will try to use his demons to destroy what life is left in the east, and then they will come here. You and the rest are needed to protect the haven from those who would come in the night, eager to bring chaos. You will look to Illene, for her wisdom is above all others.
“Breanna, granddaughter, time is not on our side,” Eliandor said, turning to her. “We have little of it, and must begin your training quickly. There is a teacher for you at Haven Breithweit. That is where we must travel. If you choose to go, be ready to leave soon. You have much to learn. Are you willing, Granddaughter?”
“Yes, I will go,” Breanna said reluctantly, wishing she was a real warrior instead of a girl. “After all, what can Yahmara do to us she hasn’t already tried?”
“Much, I’m afraid,” Eliandor said. “Everything under the world is at her disposal. Are you afraid?”
“Should I be, Grandfather?”
“You should be frightened beyond any fear you’ve ever imagined. Not only your life, child, but your soul is at risk.”
“Then let’s go find my teacher, Grandfather. We have no time to lose.�
�
“Truly, Granddaughter, we must hurry, for the trip is long and dangerous. Even now, as we dawdle, and play with family, the forces of evil grow swiftly. It is not my wish to say goodbye to all I love, but if it must be, then let us make haste before another day passes.”
Two fortnights later, before the light of dawn, Breanna stood waiting in the forest beside Niana, a white Baldron mare given to her by Mathena and Lyman on her seventeenth birthday. Her new quiver fit comfortably across the shoulder of a new jumper Illene made from elven cloth. Blue seemed to be Breanna’s color, for the new garment was dyed in shades of cornflower and deep-water blue. The garment was self-cleaning, and would last till almost forever. A pair of trousers with tight legs finished the girl’s wardrobe. She had never been more comfortable in clothing in all her years.
Her face was solemn as she stared into the falls, for she was heavy-hearted at leaving the family she had sought for so long. Going on a journey from which she might not return took great resolve, and Breanna wondered if she was capable of so great an undertaking. Surely at the last moment, her knees would buckle and she would refuse to leave. Tears leaked from her eyes as she thought about leaving the two Vale children, her adopted family. In her heart, she knew her grandfather must feel the same pain upon leaving Illene and the wood yet again. Surely he understood, and would forgive her if she stayed behind.
Across from the red-haired archer stood a short fellow with graying hair and skin that showed the youthfulness of a man newly matured. Tom Simpkin loved young Breanna as the daughter he would never have, and his desire to be with her was of a father for a child. Of course, had anyone asked, he would deny such sentiment, but truth was truth. He had no elven knowledge of what was in the girl’s heart, but he knew she was pulled toward her family. Being away from kinfolk for all those years had taken a toll on her feelings.
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