by C. A. McHugh
A Thread of Magic
by
Crista McHugh
A Thread of Magic
Copyright 2013 by Crista McHugh
Edited by Gwen Hayes
Copyedits by Nicole Dyakanoff
Cover Art by Sweet N’ Spicy Designs
Formatted by IRONHORSE Formatting
Kindle Edition
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This is a work of fiction. Names, places, businesses, characters and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, actual events or locales is purely coincidental.
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Table of Contents
“Nyelle’s Transformation”
“The Royal Kitten”
“Master Tyrrus Takes an Apprentice”
BONUS: Epilogue to The Tears of Elios
The Tears of Elios
Dear Readers,
This collection of short stories is meant to be a prequel to The Tears of Elios, but it also serves to answer some of the questions readers have asked me about the story and the characters. What really happened that night Nyelle was transformed? Why were shapeshifters hunted to near extinction? How did Kira meet Master Tyrrus? And what happened to Kira and Galen when the book ended?
For this reason, this collection can be read either before Tears or after, depending on your preference. If you are reading this before Tears, I hope these stories will leave you wanting to know more about the characters. If you are reading it after Tears, I hope it answers some of your questions.
Happy Reading,
Crista
“Nyelle’s Transformation”
“Why am I the only one taking these rumors seriously? If Travodus has one of the Tears of Elios –”
“Nyelle, leave these matters to the Elders,” Galen replied in a flat voice, his eyes focused on his papers. “They are deciding on how to proceed with the investigation so no more lives are lost. There is no need for you to become involved in this.”
His calm dismissal had her grinding her teeth. If the Elders had dealt with the humans when they first arrived, we wouldn’t be in this mess. “Every day we wait, Travodus gets closer to creating his master race. What if he succeeds? What if uses it to destroy us?”
Galen looked up from his papers and waited for her to stop pacing in front of his desk. “I have faith in the wisdom of elders. There’s more to this situation than you know, and we elves have managed to survive threats like this before.” He resumed writing. “Besides, I have more important matters to deal with, such as arranging your marriage to Seron.”
She snorted and tossed her golden hair over her shoulder. As if Seron is man enough for me. I’d have to tear him away from his reflection for the wedding. “The only reason Elisus wants me to marry his son is because of who our father was. He’s obsessed with raising his status.”
“Perhaps, but Seron’s the only one who’s expressed interest in taking you as his wife. Maybe he can tame your willfulness.”
“You just want me off your hands. I have half a mind to run off with a lowly common elf before I’d settle for Seron.”
Her brother stared at her with icy blue eyes as if to challenge her. “That would be better than you going near these humans. They are more dangerous than they seem.”
Nyelle leaned on the desk so her gaze locked with his. “Why don’t you focus on finding your own wife, or better yet, take your place among the Elders instead of cowering behind them?”
She stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Someone needed to take action, and it looked like she would have to be that person.
As soon as night fell, she snuck out of her village and ran until the sky began to lighten. Her body begged for rest, and she stopped long enough to scout her surroundings.
A thick fog hung over the forest, blanketing the spring foliage in gray mist. The air was still for this time in the morning. Too still. Normally, the larks would be singing the first songs of the day, and the deer would be shaking the dew off their fur as they searched for their breakfast. Nyelle tilted her head to the side to pick up the slightest of stirrings, but heard nothing. Uneasy from the silence, she slipped an arrow into her bow and moved forward.
Her mind screamed that she shouldn’t be this close to Rhodus alone, but no one ordered her around. A bitter taste filled her mouth as she reminded herself that these vile humans had stolen what was sacred to her people. The Tears of Elios were a gift from the elven goddess for her people, and Travodus was defiling one of them in his human hands.
She moved to an opening in the trees, her light steps not even disturbing the decomposing leaves beneath her feet. From there, she could see the outline of the rising fortress Travodus and his cult were building on the edge of the Green Mountains.
The sun had burned off the early-morning fog before she spied the first human stirrings. About twenty of them stood in the courtyard, looking inside the small structures that littered the central grounds of the fortress. Despite her keen senses, she could neither see nor hear what captivated them. She crept down the hill for a closer look.
A twig snapped behind her. Nyelle whirled around and released the arrow in the direction of the noise. An angry shriek erupted as the tip buried itself into its mark. The yellow eyes of the wounded griffin narrowed, its curved beak ripping the shaft from its shoulder.
Her hands trembling, she reached into her quiver and fumbled for another arrow. She fired another shot as she dodged the griffin. It snatched the arrow from the air and splintered it with its front claws. It then turned and squared off to face her before charging. Her pulse pounded in her ears as she raced through the trees, but the griffin moved faster, blocking her escape, forcing her down the hillside toward the human fortress.
Human voices filled the woods ahead. Nyelle was being herded like a lamb, and the wolves were waiting. In an act of desperation, she grabbed a low-lying branch and tried to swing herself over the griffin’s head. She collided with one of its massive wings, the blow knocking the breath from her lungs. Black waves rolled in front of her eyes. Her chest burned for air.
As her vision cleared, something clamped down around her, pinning her to the ground. The center claw pressed against her thumping heart.
“Careful, my pet,” a voice said from behind the griffin. “We don’t want to kill this one.”
A human with long gray hair and a beard limped forward, leaning on his ornately carved staff. His dark eyes held a strange light in them, and what she saw there terrified her. He surveyed her from head to toe as she tried to pry the griffin’s claw from her chest. “An elf without the Gift?” Then he smiled, and a chill rippled through her body despite the warm sun. “Yes, she’ll do nicely.”
The old man pointed his staff at her as the griffin lifted its claw. Red lightning erupted from the staff. Pain ripped through her body like a hundred daggers flaying her skin. Her vision pulsed while she screamed. Then everything went black.
***
Distant and haunting music filled her ears. The chorus of voices lifted in the crescendo of the chant. Then there was a single voice.
Nyelle strained to understand what they were saying as she opened her eyes. The firelight flickered at odd angles on the ground beside her. She lifted her head and noticed wooden stakes had been driven into the ground around her, creating a crude cage. Her jaw tightened. She never imagined someone like her would be treated like a mere beast. Don’t they know who I am?
Her entire body ached as if she had been tossed around like a sack of grain. She rubbed her arms and shivered. The voices continued to chant in response to the lone voice, but she couldn’t see who was speaking. The filmy blue curtain draped over the stakes distorted the shadows on the outside. She stretched forward to touch it. A shock of magic greeted her fingers instead of the silky fabric she’d expected. Perhaps the humans were more advanced than she gave them credit for.
A few feet away, a wolf howled as the chanting rose once again. Then the voice silenced them and began what sounded like an incantation. The magic veil that separated her from the outside world became transparent, and her breathing slowed as she finally glimpsed the world beyond the wooden stakes.
Nyelle was trapped inside the humans’ fortress. The small structures she’d seen in the courtyard were the cages that held her and the other prisoners. Her eyes narrowed, and she rattled the stakes. She wouldn’t be defeated this easily, but neither would the primitive bars of her cage.
The old man she’d seen in the forest stood on a raised dais behind an altar like a high priest over his bewitched congregation. “After tonight, my children, we will no longer be ordinary. We will become extraordinary. We will take what is best from our specimens and use it to strengthen us. We will create a new race, a master race, a race that will rule over all the others.”
A blue light shot forth from his staff to the five crystal orbs placed around the outer edge of the circular courtyard, encompassing everyone inside it. Over one hundred humans and nearly three dozen makeshift cages filled the center of the courtyard. The humans remained fixated on the old man behind the altar like dim-witted cows, but inside the cages, shadows paced frantically from one end of the wooden stakes to the other. A large cat — a panther, perhaps — hissed to her right, and the wolf howled again. Her skin began to crawl, and if she could’ve hissed or howled, she would’ve joined them.
The blue light grew brighter. Energy pulsated around the circle like a heartbeat, growing faster in time with her own, and Nyelle backed away from the wooden stakes to the center of her cage. The air froze in her lungs. The old man with the staff and the mad light in his eyes had to be Travodus. The orbs were five of the ten legendary Tears of Elios.
Her bottom lip trembled, and she fell to one knee. The rumors are true.
The blue light became blinding now, obscuring the moon above her. Then her body shuddered. Her flesh felt as though it was being ripped from her body. Fine brown fur grew over her once smooth ivory skin. Her nails elongated, forming claws. Her canine teeth became exquisitely sensitive as they grew longer and sharper and dug into her bottom lip. She tasted blood and doubled over, falling to the ground in the center of her cage. What is happening to me?
The human voices around her reached a frenzied pitch, but Nyelle couldn’t see beyond the searing pain that consumed her senses. She closed her eyes and prayed for death.
The voices changed from an excited chant to screams of terror. A cold wind gusted through the fortress, soothing her burning skin. It quickly intensified, snapping the wooden stakes at half. Bombarded by the splintered wood, she covered her head and wondered if she should feel fear or relief.
The humans ran screaming. A woman clothed in glowing white light stood on the ramparts of the fortress, hurling the spears of lightning at the panicked crowd. But what Nyelle had thought were humans were actually strange hybrids of humans and animals. Never had she seen such creatures before, and she watched in wonder as their bodies shifted forms while they fled.
At the altar, two more women robed in bright light stood in front of Travodus, magic pouring from their fingertips as he howled in pain. His flesh burned black and disintegrated into fine dust to be scattered in the gale. After that, the storm ceased.
The screams gave way to sobbing. The human-animal hybrids were either clutching at each other or running for the exits of the fortress. Nyelle debated following them, fear paralyzing her limbs. She didn’t want to linger here, but she feared attracting the attention of the three ethereal beings.
The goddess from the ramparts floated down to the altar, her white robes flowing behind her as her fierce face eased into calmness. She joined the other two women and turned to survey the destruction. Without saying a word, she looked at them, and they nodded in consent. The three goddesses raised their hands. The green and white lightning struck the rock walls of the fortress.
Nyelle’s heart jumped into her throat, and she raised her arms over her head once more, protecting it from the shower of stones that pelted the ground around her. Her new claws dug into her arms as she tried to stifle her own screams. “Please, Elios,” she begged the elven goddess, “be merciful and grant me a painless death.”
An odd feeling of peace filled her. She remained still on the ground, listening to the sound of her breath as it entered and exited her lungs. The goddess had not taken her life yet. When she opened her eyes, the three women were walking through the courtyard, inspecting the damage. They spoke among themselves in a language she had never heard before. The goddess robed in white from the ramparts walked in front and struck anything that moved with a bolt of lightning. A goddess clad in green spoke quietly, sadness filling her eyes. The third goddess was an elf with flowing white-gold hair and a serene light emanating from her kind face.
Nyelle gasped when she recognized this was the goddess, Elios.
The goddess in white moved in her direction. Nyelle braced to be struck by the lightning, expecting another wave of pain before the dark abyss of death. Then she heard in Elvish, “No, do not harm that one!”
Footsteps approached her, and a warm hand stroked her face. All the pain disappeared as she looked into the face of Elios.
“You did not choose this fate, yet it has been given to you,” she said as she held Nyelle’s chin. “But all this has happened for a reason. You are the first of your kind, and you will be the last. Do not squander these gifts.” Elios smiled and returned to the other two goddesses.
Nyelle struggled to her feet and chased the goddesses. What gifts? What fate? She needed to know the answers.
But the goddesses faded away as a thick mist filled the ruins of the once mighty fortress. Around her, the human-animal hybrids moaned and sobbed. A sob choked in her own throat as she turned in the direction of her village. She wanted to go home.
Her feet flew over the forest floor, but she was so focused on her destination that she never noticed that she was running on four legs instead of two.
“The Royal Kitten”
Ranealya smelled the other shapeshifters approaching before they entered the inn. That should’ve been her cue to leave. But the waitress had just placed a steaming bowl of stew in front of her, the first hot meal she’d had in weeks, and she wasn’t going to leave until all of it was in her gnawing stomach.
Besides, the others usually left her alone when they saw her. They knew she was different from them. She’d once been a member of the elven elite before the elders changed her name from Nyelle to what meant “the cursed one” in their language. She’d had no say in becoming what she was.
But they had.
The stew clogged her throat when she smelled Malinius. No matter what form he took, Ranealya knew his scent. This time, he was in the form of a man with a ginger beard. The last time she’d seen him, he’d had the gall to impersonate a high elf to extract information for the king. But his plan had been foiled once she alerted Galen of his actions. She could only imagine what duty Malinius was h
ere for now. Perhaps some peasant was stirring up trouble. Perhaps a human woman who dared to cast magic. Perhaps the dwarves were smuggling a shipment of gems out of the region. It didn’t matter, none of it involved her.
So why did Malinius and his entourage zero in on her the second they walked through the door?
He crossed the room and stopped in front of her table. “Good evening, Ranealya,” he said as though they were old friends.
“It was until you showed up.” She bent back over her food and shoveled it into her mouth as quickly as possible. The sooner she finished, the sooner she could leave.
Malinius refused to take her hint. He settled into the chair across from her, flanked by two shifters on either side of him. She was trapped until he granted her permission to leave.
Ranealya slowed her chewing long enough to examine her captors. Malinius had perfected the seamless transition of shifting from one form to another, losing all traces of his shapeshifter nature except for his eyes, which always remained wild. The other four were less skilled. From a distance, they appeared human. But on closer examination, she could see the slightly longer than normal incisors, the fur creeping along the back of their hands, the stray feather peeking out from under their hair.
“What a pleasant surprise to see you in town,” he continued after ordering pints of beer for him and companions. The other men remained silent, probably because some feral sound would come out instead of intelligent speech. “It’s always nice to have a chance to dine with one of our own.”
She fought back the growl rising in her throat. “I’m not like you and the others, and I never will be.”
“Wrong. You are just like us. You possess the same power, the same greatness as we do. When we were transformed, Travodus saw fit to make you one of us as well, so count your blessings.”