THE CALLING
THE ANDOVIA CHRONICLES BOOK 1
TIFFANY SHAND
Copyright © 2020 Tiffany Shand
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the author, except for brief quotes in reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. People, places, events and situations are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or historical events, is purely coincidental.
Cover by Kristina Romanovic
Editing and proofreading by Dark Raven Edits and Lauren Blanchard
Table of contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Afterword
Also by Tiffany Shand
About the Author
Chapter 1
“She must be put to death for her crime,” said the village elder. “Traitorous little wretch — killing the man who took her in and raised her as his own all these years.”
Nyx Ashwood froze as she stood surrounded by her tribesmen. Her mouth fell open at the man’s words. What? No, this can’t be happening. I haven’t done anything wrong.
“I was only protecting my sister,” Nyx protested. “Harland tried to—”
“Silence,” the village leader, Jarrod, snapped. “You killed one of your own people with forbidden sorcery. You will pay for your crime.” He towered over her with his massive frame, his dark eyes flashing. Long black braids trailed down his neck, his breath stank of ale and a bushy beard covered half of his weathered face.
Sorcery! Ridiculous. She didn’t have magic. Her abilities came from a curse, not from any magical talent. Now that very curse might cost Nyx her life. Everyone in the tribe possessed a spark of magic that allowed them to use basic spells. They viewed anything beyond that as evil. Nyx knew she shouldn’t have been surprised. The villagers had been looking for an excuse to get rid of her for as long as she could remember.
She sat huddled in the corner of an old barn the villagers often used for meetings. Her wrists were raw from where they had been bound with tight rope, and they had tied her to a post so she couldn’t even fly away. Her jaw and limbs ached from where one of the men had beaten her. Worse still, she couldn’t remember everything that happened the night before. She had woken up in the tavern early that morning with Harland’s wife, Mama Habrid, screaming at her. Mama Habrid had accused her of murder, and Nyx had seen Harland’s body slumped over on the other side of her foster sister’s room.
Why couldn’t she remember anything? She had known people were looking for her last night and her trading contact, Traveller, had been killed. After she had discovered Traveller’s body, she had fled from the cave the trader had been staying in. After that… After that, everything had turned blank.
Cracks of light crept in through the broken walls, and Nyx flinched as a rat scurried past her. Poor creature. They had been treating her worse than vermin. At least the rat had a chance to run away. She didn’t have that option, not with all the men here.
She is guilty.
We should have gotten rid of her years ago.
I always knew that changeling was nothing but trouble.
Their thoughts buzzed through her mind so loud she wanted to scream. Nyx hated being around so many people. It made it hard for her to concentrate and consider her next move. With her hands bound, she couldn’t touch anyone and use her influence on them either. Mama Habrid must have warned them about that too. She had always been so careful about keeping her curse a secret from people because she knew they would condemn her to death if they thought she had magic.
What she wouldn’t give for some wine, or better yet, the drug Nilanda to dull it all out, but there was no chance of that.
Her mind raced with questions about the night before. She had heard her sister screaming and knew she had to stop their foster father, Harland, from hurting Kyri again. Everything after that remained a blur. What happened? What had she done?
She did remember Harland choking Kyri then… nothing. She knew she must have intervened somehow. Nyx guessed she might have used her influence, as she often did, to rein his temper in.
Everyone kept saying she had killed him, but how? Her curse worked by tormenting her with other people’s thoughts and sometimes allowing her to bend people to her will, but she didn’t have the ability to kill anyone. While she might be able to get someone to hand over coins and other possessions, she couldn’t force them to commit murder for her.
Nothing she said or did would make the villagers change their minds. If only she could get her hands free, perhaps she could force them to release her. Doing so always drained her of energy, but it wouldn’t harm them. The effects had always only been temporary. Usually, she got someone to do whatever she wanted them to do and then let them go. No harm done.
Nyx had to get out of there. At seventeen, she was too young to die. She had barely even begun to live. The life she had endured so far had been one of hardship. With Harland gone, she had hoped she and her foster sisters could finally have a better future and get away from this awful place, but there would be no chance of that unless she found a way to escape. Eight men stood between her and the door that led out of the barn. A quick glance around showed her nothing but a few cracks and loose boards. There was nowhere big enough for her to crawl through, not without being seen.
Nyx curled her long wings around herself, hoping they would provide her with a little warmth. She shivered as a cool breeze blew under the door and through the cracks in the walls. She had no idea what time of day it was. She had lost her sword last night too. Being without the weapon she had considered a part of herself for the past two years left her feeling naked and empty.
“She must be put to the flame,” another man spoke up.
Flame? Nyx’s heart pounded in her ears, and her blood went cold. They were going to burn her alive? Good gods, she hated fire. It had always terrified her. Worse still, her sister, Domnu, had said she had seen Nyx being put to a pyre in a vision she had had last night when some strangers had come looking for her. They couldn’t put her on a pyre. If she had killed Harland, it had been self-defence. Nyx thought she would remember something as important as that. She sometimes blacked out when she used her influence – especially if it had taken more energy than usual. Maybe she had been too exhausted to stay conscious. Or perhaps her mind had blocked out the event.
Had she stabbed him? No, she hadn’t seen any stab wounds on him earlier that morning. Hit him over the head with something? No, they kept insisting she had used magic to do it. If she ever killed anyone, it was more likely to be with the end of a blade, not with her curse.
Nyx pulled her knees up to her chest and buried her face in her hands. This had to be a nightmare and one she prayed she would wake from soon.
Someone chuckled. “Oh, you can’t deny what you did to me, girl. Even if your mind blocks
it out, you know you have blood on your hands.”
Nyx looked up to see Harland’s glowing form standing a few feet from her. He looked just as she had remembered with his mop of long grey hair, straggly beard and ice-blue eyes. He wore the same clothing that he had on the night before: a rumpled, dark red tunic and muddy black trousers.
Impossible. She had seen his body when they dragged her out of the tavern. His eyes had been glassy and lifeless, and the dead didn’t come back to life. No, he wasn’t alive, but his presence sent a chill over her.
“You’re dead,” she whispered. “How can you be here?”
“Yes, I am. No thanks to you.” Harland leaned back against the wall, yet his glowing presence cast no shadow, nor did the arguing village men notice him. How could they not see him? He was right there. Was she imagining this?
“You are a spirit,” she kept her voice low so no one would overhear her. “Why have you come back for me? I didn’t do anything to you. If I did, it wasn’t intentional. I’m not a murderer.”
“I’ve come to let you know I will be waiting for you. Fire is an awful way to die, but it is no more than what you deserve. I didn’t deserve to die, yet you used your unholy curse on me.” Harland gave her a bright smile. “Don’t keep me waiting too long. I have big plans for you on the other side.” Then he disappeared in a wisp of smoke.
Was this to be her fate? To die on a pyre and be subjected to Harland even more in the next life than she had been in this one? No, Nyx would not endure that. She had been a slave for as long as she could remember, sold to Harland and turned into what he wanted her to be. Now that time was over.
“You can’t kill me,” she told the villagers again. “I didn’t—”
Why wouldn’t anyone listen to her? Usually, the village elders gave anyone accused of a crime the chance of a trial first where they could speak in their defence. She should have known they would never give her such an opportunity. Nyx was considered little more than a gutter rat.
“Quiet, girl,” Jarrod growled and turned back to the other men. “Get everything ready. She will burn at noon.”
The other men trailed off as Jarrod dragged her outside the barn and past a row of tiny makeshift houses. The tribe liked to move around depending on the season, so they were all made of wood. Faces and accusing eyes stared out at her from the windows, and their thoughts echoed through her mind.
They all thought she was guilty and were happy to condemn her. Her skull pounded from the onslaught of their voices, buzzing like a swarm of bees through her mind.
Noon? That meant she only had a short time to escape. They had spent the past few hours debating what to do with her. She had woken up to the sounds of Mama Habrid screaming. Her foster sister, Kyri, had been huddled in the corner, too terrified to say or do anything. Kyri hadn’t even done anything when the men came and dragged Nyx away.
Jarrod tied her to a post made of thick wood. It would take a lot of strength to pull it out of the ground. As Jarrod stalked off, Nyx tugged at the ropes around her hands. They were too tight to pry loose. Her long plait fell past her shoulders, despite the fact her hair often changed colour. It had settled on dark pink. In times of distress it always returned to its natural shade of blonde.
Nyx unfurled her wings and flapped them. She rose off the ground a little, but the rope held her to the post. Her wings weren’t strong enough to get her free. She had always felt like there had been something tying her to this place, and now there was.
Curse it all. There had to be some way out.
“Nyx?” someone hissed.
Nyx turned to see her foster sister, Domnu, lurking beside one of the houses. Domnu’s dark blonde hair billowed around her face, and her dark green eyes were filled with fear. She didn’t have wings like Nyx did, and her long woollen dress hung loose around her thin frame.
Nyx stood out with her large wings. Long veins ran down the back of them and shimmered with iridescent colours. Her fae features had always made her look unusual among the humans here. “Dom, help me,” Nyx whispered. “Please.”
Domnu gripped the side of the wall. I can’t. There are too many people around, she thought at Nyx. Since Nyx could read their thoughts, her sisters had learnt to use it to communicate with her when they didn’t want anyone to overhear them.
Nyx’s foster sisters were the only people who knew about her curse. Aside from Harland and Mama Habrid, who had taken her in as a foundling.
“Please, they’re building a pyre.” She gave her sister a beseeching look. “If you don’t help me, I will burn. We always promised we would be there for each other. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
Domnu paled. I’m sorry, Nyxie, I don’t know how to help. They will kill me if I try to help you escape.
“You get away from there,” someone yelled. “You shouldn’t be around her.” One of the village men had spotted Domnu and advanced towards her.
Domnu hurried away before the man had a chance to reach her.
Nyx wished Domnu would have a vision telling her this would turn out alright. But Domnu couldn’t control her power any more than Nyx could control her curse. Domnu wasn’t fae, but she did have the ability to see the future. The familiar feel of Domnu’s presence retreated further away. She wouldn’t even stay close to be there when they put Nyx to death.
The men began stacking up piles of wood in the village square.
Bile rose in her throat, and tears stung her eyes. No, she wouldn’t cry. Harland had always said crying was a weakness, and she wouldn’t give the villagers the satisfaction of it.
Nyx half expected Harland to walk around the corner and demand to know where she had been all this time. She had chores to do in the tavern at the insistence of Mama Habrid. Harland always put her “talents” as he called them to good use by travelling around from village to village picking people’s coin purses. She had a quick hand and knew how to distract people.
Gods, please help me through this, she prayed. Don’t let them put me to the flame.
Last night had been normal at first. She had been sweeping the floors in the tavern and avoiding Mama Habrid and Harland as much as she could. Harland made her go around to the tavern’s patrons every evening, picking their coin purses. She only slipped out a few coins here and there so people wouldn’t notice. There was big money to be found in the larger villages. If she ever got caught, she had a way of making people forget, thanks to her curse.
It had been a normal evening until those people had come looking for her. Three youths: two male and a female. They had known her name and had been there when she found the body of her trading contact. Had they been responsible for killing Harland? She had no way of finding out now and wondered if those strangers would appear at her execution just as Domnu had foreseen.
Mama Habrid would love any excuse to get rid of her. Nyx had always been Harland’s favourite since she brought in the most money. Unlike Domnu and Kyri, who could only use their gifts in a limited capacity to make good coin, Nyx’s ability could never be turned off.
Think, she told herself. There must be another way out of this. Her curse would do her no good here except perhaps to warn her when people were coming. So many thoughts buzzed through her mind like a swarm of bees flocking to a hive. It made it almost impossible to concentrate.
She tugged at the ropes again, yet the knots refused to budge. Her heart stopped when she caught sight of the pyre they had already erected. More men brought in piles of wood. Gods, were they really going to do this? Would they really burn her alive? Nyx averted her gaze, unable to look at it. She could imagine the flames licking at her flesh, burning through skin and bone.
She had been an outcast all her life. Someone had abandoned her in the woods when she was a child. That was why they had given her the name Nyx, which meant strife, and the last name of Ashwood after the tree she had been found under. They called her a changeling because of her wings, but no other baby had been taken in her place.
The
thoughts of two men grew louder. Two burly men rounded the corner and yanked her off the post.
They dragged her through the village and up to the platform. One by one, the rest of the villagers flocked out of their houses to come to watch the spectacle. Would no one here help her? Nyx had always known they disliked her and feared her for her strangeness, but she had no quarrel with them. She had never done anything to hurt them aside from stealing a few coins on Harland’s orders.
Gods, this could not be happening.
Horrible way to die, the first man thought.
The witch deserves it, the second man thought. She’s been a plague on our village since the day she arrived here. We should have gotten rid of her years ago.
Their whirling thoughts pounded through her head like a heavy drum.
Nyx struggled, but the men kept a firm grip on her. They tied her straight to a post and placed kindling around her feet. She had to concentrate. Her curse did nothing to help her, so she would just have to find another way to escape.
Nyxie, I’m coming!
Wait, that sounded like Domnu.
Domnu rounded the corner and swung a broom straight at the first man, knocking him to the ground. Nyx spun and kicked the second in the stomach as Domnu cut at the rope binding her to the post. “Run, Nyx!” Domnu cried.
Nyx hesitated. She couldn’t leave her sisters behind. Who would be there to protect them now? If she ran, they would have no one to take care of them anymore. Mama Habrid would sell them on the slave market now that Harland wasn’t around to keep her in line.
“Go, now,” Domnu hissed. Hurry. There’s a pack with your things in it on the woodland trail. Go and get it. Don’t worry about us. You must leave.
Nyx turned and ran. Shouts rang out behind her.
She sprinted away from the village. She knew where Domnu meant. Nyx spent more time in the forest than she did at the tavern. It was the only place she could find peace away from the constant bombardment of thoughts.
The villagers would be right behind her; she had to hurry. Where would she even go from here? Nyx had only a little money from what she had stolen and kept for herself, but it wouldn’t get her far. The fae were considered slaves here on these islands, as were anyone who looked different or possessed some type of magical ability. Even if she did escape, it might not be long before someone tried to grab her and sell her back into slavery.
The Calling (The Andovia Chronicles Book 1) Page 1