by Tj Shaw
Still unseasonably warm during the day, she wore a light pink and white lace dress, and carried the perfect accessory—a small matching umbrella—to protect her delicate skin from the sun.
She followed a cobbled path toward the barns, lost in her contemplations. She hoped King Remy was as fine a masculine specimen as King Duncan. Her stomach clenched at the thought of King Duncan. She still couldn’t comprehend why he chose Carina. At least Carina would never be his queen.
Instead of following the path, she turned right and paralleled a fence to one of the hunting pastures. Carina’s Criton had just killed an ovine and was enthusiastically ripping it apart. She turned her head away in disgust. Although she pretended to like Critons for Father’s sake, they were dirty creatures, hard and wild, and she wanted nothing to do with them.
Despite herself, she glimpsed over her shoulder to reaffirm her poor opinion of the foul beasts. The mangled, bloody remains were trapped within the animal’s small front claws, but the scrawny Criton had stopped eating to stare at her. Blood dripped off its chin. A ripple of fear shot up her spine. For a second, she almost believed an intelligent creature lived within those evil eyes.
She quickened her pace. Just ahead, the trail would veer away from the pasture and take her through a grove of birch trees before looping back toward home. As she reached the bend, she tortured herself with a final glance behind her. The monster still watched her with those eerie, pale green eyes.
“What are you looking at?”
The beast pinned its small ears back and curled its lips to expose bloody fangs. She shivered at the ferocious display before slipping into the trees, grateful to be out of view from the animal’s vigilant gaze. What an unappreciative creature. Father should’ve put that thing out of its misery years ago. But he’d never kill it now so close to transition.
She ambled through the trees. A breeze whispered through the top branches of the multi-trunked champion birches, showering her path in a soft rain of autumn color. She stomped on the fallen leaves and wondered why Carina loved Critons so much. She attributed Carina’s common heritage as the reason for her half sister’s affinity toward the animals, but couldn’t figure out why the disgusting creatures returned Carina’s affection.
An unexpected thought wormed inside her mind. It festered and grew as she mulled over the consequences. Tiwans took their responsibility of protecting the world from Dark Callers very seriously. Her plan crystallized and she smiled.
Although King Duncan had a head start, he would be traveling at a slower pace because of his foot soldiers. If she dispatched a lone rider on a fast, strong Criton, with a little luck the rider might reach the Bridal Lands before King Duncan and his men. She could be doing the world a favor by sending a messenger. After all, since Carina couldn’t be the Caller of Light, maybe her mixed blood destined her to become a Dark Caller capable of using the negativity within a soul to bind Critons and riders with a dark bond.
She rested a gloved hand on the white-mottled trunk of a sturdy birch, letting her mind run through the possibilities. The Tiwans would probably consider her warning them an obligation. And since she’d only be delivering the message, her conscience would be clear.
The breeze did not filter down from the treetops, so her hair clung to her neck like a wool scarf in the stagnant air. She brushed it off her shoulders, thinking she should’ve pinned it up as she strolled toward the servant’s quarters in search of a messenger.
14 – BRIDAL LANDS
Carina grew accustomed to the patterns of traveling with Marek and his men. But the days were long. Even on Critonback, the days stretched on and on. So by the time they found a place to camp for the night, she was exhausted.
Although tired, she wanted to shoulder some of the work and began caring for the Critons. When Marek first saw her in the middle of the large creatures feeding them juma melons, he had pushed his way through the milling animals—who voiced their displeasure at his encroachment—and hauled her out of the throng.
Marek’s actions had caused a brief standoff as she held her ground with her arms crossed in front of her, arguing that she just wanted to help. He reluctantly acquiesced only after she reminded him that the Critons were her responsibility back home. And once she began taking care of them, the men relaxed around her.
But even the joy of handling the Critons didn’t ease her pain over losing Mira. Looking back, she wished she’d asked Marek to purchase her. But if he had, Mira would’ve had a difficult time keeping up with the adults and Marek’s pace. She could only hope Father would allow Mira to grow and transition into the amazing animal she knew Mira would become.
Aside from the time she spent with the Critons, Carina enjoyed the nights the most. Now, she welcomed, and even anticipated, sleeping beside Marek. She savored the heavy weight of his arm draped over her as he held her pressed against his chest. Totally improper, but the wicked pleasure was hers to enjoy. She loved his attention and their closeness as they whispered the night away. Often she woke up more tired than rested because of the late hours they spent awake.
By the tenth day, lack of sleep found her leaning against Marek with her head against his shoulder and her arms wrapped around him—sleeping. She awoke with a start as an angry thunderhead rolled across the sky spattering fat raindrops on her.
“Ah, she wakes.” Marek joked.
“Maybe you shouldn’t talk so much at night.” She yawned, still tired and grumpy about getting wet.
“Well, we could do other things, but then the men might have a hard time sleeping.”
She giggled and punched his shoulder in mock offence.
Marek’s laughter spurred FireStrike’s roar, which spiraled to the other Critons who voiced their response. Nearby Criton riders glanced at them with curious expressions making her blush and Marek laugh harder.
They landed to don rain slickers then took to the air again. Although most of the storm stayed ahead of them, the heavy rain saturated the ground and slowed the progress of the foot soldiers and coursers. By the early evening hours, they were only halfway across the Bridal Lands.
Sampson flew up beside them. “Do you want to push through?”
Even with her light touch on his waist, she felt his body tense. She knew he wanted to travel through the Bridal Lands in one day, but the rain had made the terrain too treacherous to cross at night.
“No,” he grumbled. “Find a clearing, but make sure it’s defensible.”
Sampson nodded and flew off. She watched Sampson and another rider skim low over the ground until they topped a small rise and disappeared on the other side. Marek followed Sampson’s path, but at a slower speed so the foot soldiers stayed within sight.
They were traveling parallel to the breathtaking Karelides, the largest mountain range she’d ever seen. The Karelides were actually two distinct ranges almost butting against each other, except for a valley between them. The valley, also known as the Realm of Light, housed the gateway between her world and Crios where Critons were born.
The stark, intimidating mountains consisted of craggy snowcapped peaks that disappeared into low lying clouds. Ominous and impressive, the Karelides erupted out of a vast expanse of flat lands as if the Gods had deposited them in the middle of nowhere to shield the gateway. She peered over Marek’s shoulder to get a better view of the valley, but it disappeared into the depths of the mountains as they passed.
“Have you been through the valley?”
Marek chuckled. “The Valley of Karelides? No, the Tiwan Tribe would never permit it. As far as I know, aside from the Caller, only a few select Tiwans are allowed into Crios.”
“Why?” She had heard this too and tried to suppress her disappointment.
Marek shrugged. “To prevent a Dark Caller from entering Crios.”
“To avoid another Dark War.”
Marek nodded. “No matter how good, all living creatures have some darkness inside them that Dark Callers can bind, dooming to their souls to the black
shadows.”
Carina shuddered at the thought of Dark Callers. “I hear Tiwans are savages.”
Marek’s laughter spilled over her. “Although they won’t welcome our overnight stay so close to the gateway, they shouldn’t bother us as long as we leave tomorrow.”
A flaming arrow arcing high into the cloudy sky captured their attention. “There they are,” Marek said, guiding FireStrike toward the small clearing Sampson had deemed appropriate.
She grabbed Marek’s waist and locked her knees under the hard, leather restraints to stay in the saddle as FireStrike dove at a dizzying pace, the wind whipping over her. When they neared the ground, FireStrike snapped his mighty wings open to stop their rapid descent and hovered before dropping lightly onto the damp soil.
Marek jumped off and grabbed Carina’s waist, lifting her down while she held his forearms. She’d grown accustomed to his touch. Although a proper lady wouldn’t let him so near, she couldn’t force herself to follow the strict requirements custom dictated after experiencing his body lying beside her at night. And if people talked about her as a result, so be it.
Figuring Marek would go find Sampson to discuss defensive positions for the camp, she turned for the forest to stretch her legs, but Marek grabbed her arm. She twisted and melted into his blazing green eyes. The grey flecks sliced through her like tiny arrows implanting invisible marks of ownership.
In a low tone, he commanded. “Stay close to camp, Carina McKay.”
The timbre of his voice as he murmured her name resonated deep within her, leaving her breathless and weak-kneed. He refused to release her until she nodded. As he walked away, she watched his long, confident stride. His leather riding pants captured her attention…and imagination. They fit him well, defining him enough to send her mind tumbling, wondering what lay hidden underneath.
She smiled and shook her head before turning toward the woods. She wanted to get a closer look at the Karelides. Her thoughts rambled as she walked through the quiet cover of wide-canopied trees with small leaves that twittered in the gentle breeze above her. Many of the leaves had fallen due to the cooler weather, blanketing the floor in a soft carpet of color.
When the strand ended, she stood at the edge of a grassy meadow spanning as far as she could see to the east and west, but the vast plain was handcuffed to the north because it bumped against the rugged mountains. The majestic Karelides took her breath away. She sat on a jumble of rocks and stared at the mysterious land just beyond her reach. She could hear Marek’s men nearby and decided she was close enough to run back to camp at the first sign of trouble.
Her thoughts centered on the untamed land across the meadow. While the mountains mesmerized her, the mysterious valley between them sparked an unyielding curiosity. If she had Mira, the temptation to get a better glimpse of the secluded valley would’ve been irresistible. Just the idea of being so close to the gateway filled her with a strange sense of anticipation. Lying in the shadow of the mountains, the valley was obscured by a ground covering mist but that didn’t stop her from imagining the excitement of traveling through it into Crios. Hundreds of unbonded Critons soaring through the skies would be a breathtaking sight.
Her mind drifted as she stared into the mist that hid the depth of the valley from view. Transfixed by the swirling vapor trapped within the confines of the two towering mountains, she envisioned the wild beauty of the magical realm. Like a living thing, the haze breathed with a life of its own. Even from the distance, the mist beckoned her, tugging with invisible fingers. Her senses dulled and her eyelids grew too heavy to keep open, and she dreamed of walking in the valley.
The smell of dank, spongy loam filled her nostrils. She could only see a few feet around her, but that didn’t stop her from disappearing into the white fog. It curled around her, tickling her skin with gentle caresses before enclosing upon her. She glanced behind her, gone was the path from where she’d come, blanketed by the constantly moving cloud. The mist pushed her, encouraging her farther into its shifting embrace.
A tedious nagging pricked at her subconscious and threatened to pierce through her sluggish mind. But she ignored its growing insistence, choosing to let the vapor guide her deeper. A lethargic sense of peace enveloped her. Only the persistent, nagging buzz at the back of her mind kept her from slipping into a relaxed listlessness. The oppressive mountains pressed in on her, but she couldn’t see the rugged walls since the wispy fog cradled her in total isolation.
With a sudden jab, the nagging stabbed hard enough to force a hole into her consciousness, oozing into her mind like warm honey.
You should be afraid. You have strayed too far.
She shook her head. No, she was still at the edge of the meadow.
Only your body remains, your mind has drifted. She brought you here and pulls you into the valley.
Carina stopped at the mention of being lured into the fog and turned a full circle trying to orient herself. But the undulating vapor protected its secrets, blinding her.
You are not ready. You must go back.
Ready for what? Besides, she was just daydreaming on a rock.
She comes. You can sense her. You must GO.
Carina winced and grabbed her throbbing head. Disoriented and nauseas, a chill rippled through her, a foreboding of something approaching in the mist. The first tendrils of panic crept up the base of her skull.
Marek is looking for you. You must hurry. She is almost upon you.
Carina’s sense of urgency escalated. She had to escape, but it proved harder than just retracing her steps. As if expecting her move, the vapor expanded into a thick cloud of billowing haze, cocooning her in a silent tomb that stifled her breathing. This is only a dream, she thought over and over as if repeating her mantra would make it true and she’d wake up.
She is here.
The hair on the back of Carina’s neck bristled. Her flesh pebbled as terror settled into her bones. The once soothing mist coated her body in a cold dampness. Something walked in the fog with her. She stood rooted to the ground, frozen with fear.
She cried out and grabbed the side of her head. Another presence pushed at her mind. Strong and forceful, it seeped through her defenses. She doubled over, pressing the palms of her hands into her temples. “Get out,” she hissed between clenched teeth.
“Do not fear, my child.” The voice boomed inside her, vibrating in multi-toned layers and definitely not human.
She screamed and collapsed to her knees.
“Turn around.” The voice encouraged. “Turn. See your fate.”
She struggled to her feet, panting softly. The warm exhalation of air from the creature’s breath peppered her skin. She wanted to run, but she had become stone. Her body refused her commands.
“Dear one, do not be afraid. See me.”
Without consent, Carina’s head swiveled while the rest of her body stayed immobile. She moved in slow motion, every action exaggerated and beyond her control. She wanted to squeeze her eyes shut so she couldn’t witness the monster commanding her. But like a puppet unseen strings forced her compliance, an unwilling participant in a nightmare.
What she saw caught her breath. The scream threatening to burst from her mouth lay paralyzed at the back of her throat. Out of the mist two large amber orbs for eyes stared at her. She’d never seen such eyes, eyes that threatened to consume her.
“Come to me.” The voice whispered in her head and reverberated all around her. “Come, and claim your birthright.”
Her stomach lurched. She was going to be sick. “I’m a mixed blood,” she stammered. “I have no birthright.”
The soothing voice transformed into a harsh, persistent pounding inside her mind.
“Do not question what is yours to take.”
The amber eyes blazed with a brilliant glow forcing Carina to shield her face from the white-hot radiance. Scorching flames obliterated the mist around her leaving the air humid and smelling of sulfur.
A large Criton head unexpe
ctedly loomed overhead. The animal’s tawny irises contracted and speared through her barricades like a flimsy piece of paper, absorbing her mind. Lost within those ageless orbs, Carina throbbed with ancient power and wisdom. A gripping sadness enveloped her, foretelling of an old pain, a terrible loss that could never be recovered. How could any creature live with such an unbearable ache?
Flames licked at the corners of the Criton’s mouth as she lowered her yellow head and peered into Carina’s stunned face.
No mixed blood could have entered the valley and called me,” the Criton bellowed.
Carina gasped and pitched backwards. She braced herself for a hard landing, but strong arms caught her.
“And where did you think you were going?”
His voice poured into her, evaporating the image of the Criton and the mist-filled valley. She scrambled to regain her bearings. She sat on her rock with the Karelides looming in the distance, except now Marek’s hard wall of a chest pressed against her back and his arms were wrapped around her. She could smell him, his closeness more intimate than riding FireStrike. She reached for him and let his strength calm her.
“I must’ve been daydreaming.”
“Well, I’m glad I found you because you were about to tumble off your perch.”
She twisted to look into his face. His eyes sparkled with mischief. She shrugged, still mentally sorting through what just happened. Was it only a dream?
“You don’t listen very well.”
That caught her attention. “What? But I stayed close, just like you said. I could hear the men.”
“Yet, when they called, you didn’t answer.” His voice lowered and his eyes narrowed. “You’re not on home soil anymore. This land is wild and dangerous. You must remain aware of your surroundings.”
She bit her lip. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” Her eyes inadvertently traveled to the valley, and she shivered.