Intelligent dark eyes flickered at him. The yawning mouth with a row of glittering teeth opened as the beast snapped at him. A growl bellowed out of its belly and shattered the pure air with the reek of sulfur and rot.
Choking on the horrific smell, Tor Lir clasped a hand over his nose as he stumbled to his feet. Trying to calm his rising panic, he backed away from the creature with one hand out. A knowledge settled in his core and internal alarm bells rang. He had nowhere to run. His goal would be to see how long he could stay alive before turning into the creature’s next meal, for surely this was the beast that killed the male, turning him into a rotting corpse.
A thought flickered through Tor Lir’s mind. The Dance of the Dead. If he could block and dodge the creature’s attack, eventually he would wear it out and perhaps he could find safety in the woods. Throwing his head over his shoulder, he took the risk to glance behind, gauging how far the forest was. The beast took advantage of his moment of weakness and charged.
“Wait!” A cry flew from Tor Lir’s lips as the beast leaped up and slammed into his stomach with his snout, flinging Tor Lir through the air.
Searing pain surged through his stomach from the sucker punch, and he crumpled into a ball—even as he flew, his face contorted in pain. Misery. The realm of mortals is pure misery.
A pressure built in his head as if powerful jaws were clamping down on him and through a blur of darkness, he felt his body being dragged through the grasslands. As soon as he regained air, he stuck his feet out and kicked, hindering the process somewhat. The last thing he needed was for the beast to drag him back to some lair, likely to be dinner for its offspring who would rip him to shreds alive.
Lifting his arms, he reached for the thing clamping down on his head and was rewarded with sharp teeth sinking into his flesh. He snatched his hand away, yelping. A quick glance showed the bite was not deep and only drew a thin trickle of blood.
“Let me go,” he cried out. “I have no quarrel with you!”
The pressure disappeared and Tor Lir sat up, spinning around on his haunches in one fluid movement. The creature stood before him at eye level with its rounded snout open. Its black eyes blinked once, then twice, and the yawning mouth opened. Because of his close view, Tor Lir saw chunks of rotten meat in the beast’s mouth while the fangs that stuck out were curved and sharp with hints of redness on them. Tor Lir noticed, with some trepidation, one fang was missing, leaving a bloody gap. Something trickled down his face, and he realized it was blood from where the creature had gripped him in its jaws.
Holding out both hands, palms up, Tor Lir crawled backward on his knees. From the corners of his eyes, he saw the gray forest was closer than before. With a burst of speed and luck, he might be able to reach it before the creature attacked again.
The beast did not move as he backed away, and slowly Tor Lir rose higher until he was on his feet once more, his body bruised and shaken from the beating he’d taken. Keeping his eye on the creature, he moved sideways toward the forest while decay drifted away and a pure wind blew. The musty smell of pine and old wood drifted past his face. His nose wrinkled as his eyes watered, but when he took a deep breath, he almost doubled over from the pain in his stomach. He squeezed his eyes shut to dull the sensation of agony. When he opened them again, the beast was running toward him, growling as its eyes lit up in glee. It was in that moment Tor Lir realized the beast was just playing with him. Death was inevitable. He lifted his legs, turned his back to the beast, and ran toward the forest as fast as he dared.
His sides ached as he fled, his feet tearing through the grass, chunks of mud spraying out behind him. His heart thumped in his chest and his throat felt raw and ragged. The gray forest, which had seemed so close, now seemed miles away, as if it were taunting him. Balling up his fists, he willed himself faster while a mixture of sweat and blood poured down his head. Adrenaline surged through him and, when he saw the dark coolness of the forest, the creature slammed into him from behind. The tail wiped around, slammed the back of his feet, and Tor Lir fell headlong, smacking his head into the trunk of a tree.
A cry rose on his lips, forgotten as teeth closed around his ankle and he lost himself to the grip of oblivion.
5
The Storyteller
The air grew cool and crisp as Citrine approached the Standing Stones. She sighed, letting the unhappy news drift into the past. She’d worry about the message that evening, when she ventured into the forest again. For now, she let herself relax as she observed the audience gathered at the Stones.
Triften the Storyteller sat cross-legged on a boulder in front of the three waterfalls. The dull roar carried his voice across the churning cascades, amplifying his words to those who listened. Kai, the miller’s daughter, sat at his feet, her hair the color of sunshine. She was soaking wet as the waterfall’s spray danced around her. The attempts of the sunshine to dry her off were a laughing failure. Citrine smiled, reminded of herself when she was young and impulsive. The children of the village gathered around Triften. They were young, only five or six, their cheeks still round with baby fat, their eyes wide and innocent.
Five. That’s how old Citrine was when the war ended. Memories of her younger years were vague, mapped with emotions. The joy on her parents’ faces when they learned the war was over was something she never forgot. The cries of happiness and the words to Song danced through her memory. It was over, and fear was banished from the lands.
“Why do you tell stories?” Kai asked Triften, kicking her feet in the shallows of the crystal stream, soaking the hem of her skirt. She wore her long, light hair in two braids, the ends trailing almost to her waist.
“Because I must.” Triften placed his hands on his knees, leaning forward as an eager blush spread over his face and his words twirled with passion across the waters. “Stories are the key to unlocking truth and looking to our past will inform our future. Just as the original Mermis spread the stories of Heroes of Old, I tell you what I lived through, stories I must pass down in history.”
“The war?” a little boy asked, his wet hair standing straight up in the air. He held a hunk of bread in his grubby hands, switching between tossing some to the koi and chewing the rest. “You lived through the war?”
“Aye.” Citrine watched Triften’s piercing blue eyes grow cloudy in remembrance as he spoke. “The War between the Mortals and Immortals. And now I give you these stories so you will remember what they did to make these realms free in the name of what is good and right. Remember those stories and when your time comes, you will continue the tradition and pass these tales down to your children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren. We cannot forget those who were brave when no one else was, who stepped out of hiding and faced a foe we cannot imagine. The Heroes of Old are the ones who gave you your freedom and allowed you to live in this land without fear.”
Triften paused and held up a finger. He was a slim male, only five and a half feet tall. Despite his small stature, he had the ability to command attention. Citrine mused as she listened; perhaps it was his confidence that first drew her attention to him.
“There’s another reason I give you the gift of stories. Tales give us empathy and help us see from other points of view. When you listen to a story, you gain a perspective on the world. Perhaps one you’ve never considered. When you hear a story, you realize anything is possible.”
“Tell us the story about the wind lady.” Kai interrupted Triften’s lecture and clasped her hands together, her eyes shining.
“Ah . . .” Triften smiled. “Look who joined us.”
Citrine realized she’d been spotted as Triften’s beaming face turned in her direction. He was a Cron—a people group with a light complexion known for their restlessness and love of adventure. Aside from his aura of authority, he had arched eyebrows, full lips, a square jaw, and a long nose. All things considered, he was attractive, but it was his eyes that gave her pause. Considering her past, she had a weakness for eyes. Triften’s were
deep and soulful, almost as if he’d seen too much and there was nothing left but a calm kindness wavering behind them to observe the coming calamity.
Her innate desire to flirt died in his presence and although she approached him in a coy manner, his mannerisms were surprising. Most males leered at her with malicious intent, thinking of nothing but what was between her legs. Disparaging gestures and inappropriate remarks often followed. Citrine was well aware the way she dressed and walked only encouraged them. It also gave her plenty of opportunity to work out her sharp tongue and get abusive if the situation demanded it. She used to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh until . . .
She let her memories melt away as she walked into the circle of waterfalls.
“Go on with your story,” Citrine encouraged Triften, watching the white-and-orange koi brush past her, their whiskers tickling her bare legs. Their mouths opened and closed as they eyed her, but they scattered away when they discovered she held no treats.
“Citrine!” Kai shouted, patting the slick rock she sat on. “Sit with me.”
Patting the children on their light heads as she passed, Citrine joined Kai, tucking her legs under her as Triften continued his tale. The children of the village smiled at her, their faces bright with laughter and eyes wide with wonder as Triften weaved a tale. Citrine knew he’d had the great honor of traveling with Eliesmore the Great Conqueror who saved the Four Worlds from the rule of darkness. Triften told a tale of enchantment and horror. He spoke of a great beast who threatened the Torrents Towers—a city of towers in the west—and how the One coaxed the gates to open and rippled the land from the hold of darkness without casualties. He told of the wind in the Monoxie Meadows and how it enchanted a captain of the guards and stole him away from the army.
When his tale was done, the children sat hushed. Citrine felt Kai’s fingers creep into hers, squeezing her hand. Straightening her back, Citrine slid a foot back into the cool waters as a wishful sensation crept through her. The desire for a child was not a future dream, yet her friendship with Kai made her wish, sometimes, for a different path in life.
“Citrine.” Triften stood and joined her as the children scattered. “Will you walk with me back to the village?”
“Aye,” she agreed, the words tumbling out of her mouth before she could stop herself. The fingers of her free hand twitched over her handkerchief, a reminder she needed to gather herbs. She brushed the flicker of worry away as she fell in step with Triften.
“You look concerned.” His voice was smooth and tender as he peered at her, curiosity beaming out of his somber eyes.
“Nay, I heard you were back. What brought you here?” Citrine shook off his intrusive question.
His lips turned down and his eyes slithered away, glancing toward the Standing Stones while the children dashed ahead, giggling, making their way back to the village. When Triften was in the land, he gathered the children from each hut and amused them with stories before walking them back to the village around midday.
“Something mysterious?” Citrine teased, reaching out a finger to poke his shoulder.
Triften turned his eyes back to her, one of his lips tugging itself up into a half smile. “I have friends in the west who made a choice I disagree with.” He sighed. “I came here because this may be my last chance to talk any sense into them.”
“They are coming here?” Citrine glanced around the land, looking for signs of an intruder. She couldn’t help but think of all newcomers as intruders, with Triften being the exception.
Triften called the fortress in the southeast home, yet he seemed to roam the lands like a nomad. He gained friends everywhere he went, and traveling across the Jaded Sea to lands of the west did not faze him. Citrine could sense the patience in his calm and intentional steps and the way he paused before he spoke, thinking through his thoughts and concisely responding.
“Aye, at least they told me they would—this being their last stop on their way out.”
“Tell me, what did they do? Why don’t you agree with them?”
Triften chuckled, his eyes crinkling with laugh lines. “You will meet them. I’d like you to have an unbiased opinion when you do. Tell me about yourself. How is life in the land? I recall my first visit here—you’d just come through the dark forest.”
Citrine frowned, anxious about the request of the night. “My time runs short today. I came to the Standing Stones to gather herbs, but I must be away. Perhaps tonight there will be time. Will you dine at the house of Novor Tur-Woodberry?”
Curiosity danced through Triften’s light eyes as he gazed at Citrine, but the words that came out of his mouth were calm and polite. “Perhaps, if he invites me, I will go.”
Citrine blinked. “I will be sure he extends an invitation.”
Triften turned his body toward her, an odd look coming over his face. “You dine there often?”
“Yes, I am a guest,” Citrine blurted out, her defenses rising.
“I meant no harm, only, it is unheard—”
“Don’t pretend you know everything about Novor Tur-Woodberry. He has kept these lands for hundreds of years—”
“Ah.” Triften lifted a hand, squeezing Citrine’s shoulder. “I mean no harm. Until tonight then, my friend. We shall dine at the house of Novor Tur-Woodberry.”
Citrine nodded, moving away from Triften and the children to return to the Standing Stones where she could gather herbs in peace.
6
Kai’s Secret
“Citrine.” Kai trotted up to her, waving her arms to push the tall grass aside. “Where are you going?”
Citrine spun around, putting a hand on her head to shield her eyes from the brilliant beams of light. “Kai.” She paused. Novor Tur-Woodberry’s land was vast, and the village was close to the middle of the land. It would take the better half of the day to walk to the Boundary Line Forest. Unless she called one of her beasts to take her. She toyed with the idea before forgetting it. Her beasts had never entered the sacred land of Novor Tur-Woodberry, and Citrine had never ridden on one. Riding her beasts seemed to desecrate their freedom. She’d never asked.
“I have to meet someone. I have to go,” she explained, avoiding Kai’s compelling gaze.
Kai snatched up Citrine’s hand in her tiny one. “But I have a secret. I have to show you. You’re the only one who will understand.”
“I will be late,” Citrine complained, glancing down at the impetuous child. “Can it wait?”
“Please.” Kai tugged on her hand, her light eyes going wide, her lower lip stuck out.
A hint of silver glittered in the child’s eyes while Citrine fought with indecision. On one hand, she knew she should head toward the forest before dusk trapped her in the land of Novor Tur-Woodberry. She was unsure how the Master of the Forest handled lateness and she was loath to find out. Discovering Kai’s secret was more exciting, and she knew she’d give in, even as the next question left her lips. “Will it take long?”
Kai shook her head, sending her wet braids twisting back and forth on her back. Drops of water sparkled on her eyelashes. “Come with me to the mill.” She ran, her fat legs thumping through the grass as she balled up her hands by her side.
Citrine trotted beside her, bare feet digging into the warm soil. A smile came to her cheeks. The wind whipped through her vibrant hair and her heart rate increased as she sped over the rolling hills. A blue bird flew over them, calling out a symphony of melodies, and Citrine let all aggravations fade away in the splendid arms of nature.
The village sat against the swell of lush rolling hills, each one rising higher than the other, creating a myriad vision as they ran toward it. Standing at the top of the Standing Stones, one could see the village covered in a gray mist in the morning and sparkling with light in the daytime. The two lights in the sky, the sun and the Green Light, caused a mystifying glimmer across the land. The inhabitants of Novor Tur-Woodberry’s land called it Mouth of Heaven because of the beauty and peace that surrounded it like
a beacon of hope.
Thatched-roofed cottages dotted the countryside. They could see sheep and goats grazing in the distance. Brown-spotted cows and pale-pink pigs roamed the hills, rooting and rutting while the fresh scent of herbs rose, faint at first and growing stronger as they neared.
A dirt road, wide enough for a horse and rider, climbed through the center of the Mouth of Heaven, curving to meet the doorstep of each cottage. The people groups worked in the fields, tending to the orchards and their abundant crops, preparing for the coming winter. Citrine was certain they did so with ease, for it seemed nothing went wrong in the blessed land of Novor Tur-Woodberry.
“This way!” Kai shouted, her little legs hidden by the lofty grass. Her arm came up and waved at the mill set in the distance, the windmills slowing down in the lull of the breeze.
A laugh echoed through the air and Citrine spun, her eyes roaming across the prairie.
“What are you doing?” Kai shouted, noticing Citrine was no longer at her side. “Come on!”
“I thought . . .” Citrine cupped her hands around her ears. “I thought I heard a voice in the wind.”
“It’s because Triften told us the story of the wind lady,” Kai teased, her bright eyes squinting as she scrunched up her nose in mischief. “You are thinking of it now and you imagine there is life in the breeze. I think so too. I wish the wind lady would come here and grant all my wishes.”
“Kai.” Citrine touched the child’s shoulder, encouraging her to continue. “The wind lady doesn’t grant wishes—at least, I don’t remember that from the story.”
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