by Leah Ross
Reluctantly opening his eyes once more, the sight of pristine white paper greeted him. He picked up his pencil and began drawing. He put all of his memory and feeling into it, trying to illustrate just a fraction of what that idyllic scene meant to him. It promised hope. It promised peace. But, most importantly, it promised love. And that was what William needed to remember. Laria had loved him, for nothing less than exactly what he was and infinitely more. She’d seen the side of himself that he hid from the world and embraced it with no trace of irony or deceit. No one, not his family, not even Shana, had ever accepted him as completely as Laria had. Fresh tears clouded his vision once more, forcing him to stop drawing until he could see again. Covering his eyes with a hand, he took a moment to compose himself.
It took several deep breaths to calm him. Then he looked out from beneath his hand and looked at his drawing, really seeing it for the first time. Hissing in a surprised breath, he stared at it, marveling in its simple, yet poignant, beauty. It looked exactly like the scene in his memory. Yes, he thought. This is how I want to always remember Laria. Just like this.
Then an idea popped into his mind and he smiled. Lifting his drawing up and out at arm’s length, he visualized the project. This would be exactly how everyone would always remember Laria. Timeless and beautiful. A fitting tribute to her devotion and love. His mind churned over the details. I promise that I’ll show it to Laria’s child someday. Since he couldn’t do anything to prevent the loss and he couldn’t be any help to his friends, he’d show his respect in the best way he could.
He went to the door and opened it. “Hayley?”
She looked up at him, her eyes still full of worry for him. “What can I do, Mr. Hannigan?”
“I need to meet with the top sculptor in the city and the central garden executive director as soon as possible, please.” Hayley nodded and began composing a meeting request immediately. William smiled and went back to his desk. I’ll never forget you, Laria. And now no one else will either.
~*~
Declan spent his week in port just as the captain had ordered—away from the ship, removed from the crew, and doing not a whole lot of anything. He read a little, ate far too much good food, and spent a lot of time working things out inside his head.
He tried to get outside for a while each day. Enarai Valley, rising up from the port of Enarai, reminded him of Arcana, and he took comfort in familiar activities. He hiked all over the foothills, did a little rock climbing, and even observed a few of the local ranches from a distance. Finally, on his last day of leave, he decided to visit one of them and see about taking a ride.
Masterson Stables had been highly recommended to him, and he thought he recognized the name, so he decided to call on them. He breathed air deep into his lungs as he approached the large barn; the sweet smell of hay wafted about, mingled with dust, fertile soil, and the musky scent of the nymeran. Scanning the grounds, he was pleased to see everything in order and the animals well-kept. The place looked deserted at the moment, though, and he wondered where everyone was.
“Hello?” he called out. “Anybody here?”
A crash came from somewhere off to the right, followed by a muttered curse. “Hang on! Be right there!”
A few moments later, a slender, tanned young woman came into view, dusting her hands on her long pants. Her long, reddish-blond hair was pulled up in a high, bouncy ponytail, and her large brown eyes were framed by impossibly long, dark lashes.
Declan realized he was staring, and he blinked. “I apologize, miss. I didna mean to startle ye.”
Color rose high in her cheeks and she shook her head dismissively. “That’s all right. I shouldna try to balance the feed bucket an’ reach for the curry comb at the same time.” Her eyes widened. “Whoa.”
“What?”
“It’s amazing how fast the accent returns as soon as I start talking to someone from Arcana.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “How did ye ken I’m from Arcana?”
“Well, the accent, for one thing.” She sighed. “I could listen to it forever. Plus, just look at you!” Her eyes traveled the length of his body. “They don’t build men like you anywhere else.”
A smile tugged at his lips. “Why do ye hide yer accent?”
“The people here have a hard time understanding accents, unfortunately.”
“Aye,” he said with a roll of his eyes, “I noticed.”
She tapped her fingers against her forehead. “Och! Where are my manners?” She extended her hand. “Callie Masterson.”
He shook her hand firmly. “Declan Maclairish.”
Callie’s jaw dropped. “Maclairish? Seriously? Of the Maclairishes?”
“Aye, the only ones in Arcana that I ken.”
She clapped happily. “I was so angry wi’ Papa when he made me stay behind to run the ranch the last time they went to Arcana to buy from yer family’s stock. Now, they’re all out at the market, an’ a Maclairish comes to me!”
“Ye have Maclairish stock here?”
She nodded excitedly. “We only buy from Arcana, from several of the ranches there, but for breeding stock, nothing but Maclairish will do.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him behind her. “Come on!” Stopping at a large stall at the back of the barn, she swept her hand in a flourish. “Our most recent acquisition. This beautiful boy is my favorite.”
Declan grinned. “I dinna believe it!”
“What?”
“Blackthorne.” She cocked her head at him and he explained, “He was mine. Broke him meself. So named because he’s black as sin wi’ a prickly disposition to match. Da hated him from day one, so I took him on.” He offered his palm to the nymeran who instantly nuzzled it, recognizing Declan’s scent and voice. Declan stroked Blackthorne’s cheek, gazing deep into the animal’s ebony eyes and whispering soft words of comfort. Blackthorne nickered happily, rubbed his big head against Declan’s face, and rested his chin on his friend’s shoulder.
Callie gaped. “That’s amazin’! That stallion has been nothin’ but ornery since he arrived! One word from you, and he’s positively purrin’.”
“Jus’ have to ken how to handle him. May I?” He moved to open the stall.
Callie stepped back, apprehensive. “Aye.”
Keeping his hand against Blackthorne’s long neck, Declan led the nymeran out of the stall. He whispered a few more words of encouragement, then firmly grasped Blackthorne at the withers and hauled himself up onto the animal’s sleek back. Blackthorne pranced with excitement. Declan smiled at the feel of the nymeran’s powerful muscles under him and how they quivered with anticipation of a good run.
“When was the last time Thorne was ridden?” Declan asked.
“Ridden?” Callie squeaked in astonishment. “Yer father told us he couldna be ridden!”
“Aye, he would say that. That explains Thorne’s restlessness. Come on.” He extended his hand to help her up.
“Bareback?”
“Aye. Thorne doesna abide the saddle. He threw me the only time I tried him wi’ it.” He shook his head at the uncertainty in her eyes. “Dinna worry. I’ve ridden him more times than I can count.” Finally allowing him to pull her up on the nymeran’s back, she latched her arms around his waist. “Hold on, Callie.” He leaned down to Blackthorne’s large, twitchy ear. “Let’s go, Thorne!”
Callie gasped and clung to Declan as Blackthorne tore down the length of the barn and burst out the door. Knowing exactly where to go, he turned for the wide meadow and sprinted across it, heading for the stretch of valley beyond. Declan closed his eyes for a moment, reveling in the rush of wind past his ears and the effortless power of the magnificent animal beneath him. He’d forgotten how much he missed this. Feeling his mental wall of fear, regret, and sorrow crumbling to dust inside him, he smiled on a long sigh and spread his arms wide, gripping Blackthorne tightly with his legs.
“What are ye doin’?!” Callie yelped into the wind, desperately grasping at him.
He ignor
ed her and let Blackthorne’s exhilaration flow through him, freeing his mind of the pent up emotion that had crippled him. He laughed and bent over the nymeran’s neck. “Thank ye, Thorne. We both needed that. Ye can stop whene’er ye’re ready.”
Blackthorne tossed his head in agreement and gradually slowed to a stop. Declan slid to the ground and helped Callie down. “That was…” she began.
“Bloody fantastic,” he said.
“Terrifyin’!” she finished.
He laughed. Patting Blackthorne affectionately, he turned the nymeran loose to graze and cool down. He spied a nearby boulder and sat, turning his face up to the warm rays of the sun. All of his stress had melted away, leaving him carefree and more relaxed than he’d been in years. His heart still ached, but he felt rejuvenated, able to face life once more.
“It seems that was fair cathartic for ye both,” Callie observed, joining Declan on the boulder.
“Aye,” he replied. “I was holdin’ on to some things that I was finally able to let go. Thank ye, and I’m sorry for terrifyin’ ye.”
She smiled. “No worries.” She watched Blackthorne for a few minutes. “I could sell him back to ye, if ye want him. Anyone can see the two o’ ye belong together.”
“‘Tis a fair generous offer, but I’ll have to decline,” he said. “Pirates dinna have much use for such animals.”
She nodded in understanding. “Have ye ever thought about gettin’ back into ranchin’?”
He sighed. “Sometimes.”
“Ye miss it.”
“I do. But I have an important job to do, an’ that needs to be my focus right now. Perhaps someday.”
The ride back to the stables was leisurely and peaceful. Declan put Blackthorne back into his stall and caressed his neck one last time. He motioned Callie forward and placed her hands gently on the nymeran’s soft cheeks. “Thorne, this is my friend Callie. She kens how ye like things now, so she’ll treat ye well. I expect the same from ye.”
Callie softly stroked over the animal’s face as he nuzzled against her, accepting her at last. She smiled at Declan. “Thank ye, Declan.”
“How much do I owe ye?”
She frowned at him, confused. “For what?”
“For the ride.”
“Absolutely not!” She shook her head emphatically. “I’m no’ goin’ to charge ye for ridin’ yer own nymeran! Yer help wi’ Thorne is more than enough.”
“Thank ye, Callie. Ye’ve helped me too. Take good care o’ him.”
“I will.”
Declan walked back into town, reflecting on all that had happened. He’d have to thank Guinn for ordering him to take leave. It had forced him to confront his feelings and resolve as much as he could. He would always miss Laria, he knew that, but he didn’t feel quite so lost anymore. He was ready to move forward.
Hiking to the top of the bluff overlooking the dock, he glanced at the activity on the deck of the Grimoire, then turned his gaze out to sea. Closing his eyes briefly, he felt the familiar movement of rolling timber beneath his boots, the feeling a constant companion, even when he was on land. He filled his lungs with salty air, lifted his chin, and opened his eyes to the heavens.
Stubborn in his refusal to acknowledge the gods, he sent his final farewell directly to Laria. Thank ye, lass, for helpin’ me find my way again. This world will be duller an’ far less magical wi’out ye in it, but at least I ken I can face it wi’ strength in my heart an’ mind. I will miss ye until my dyin’ breath. I will love ye for all eternity. I will see ye again someday, but for now, I ken I’m able to let ye go. Goodbye, my Laria. Blowing a kiss to the sky, he sighed deeply.
He heard the sound of a young throat clearing behind him, and he smiled without turning. “I suppose ye’ve been sent to fetch me, eh Jonathan?”
“Aye, sir,” Morgan answered. “Are you ready?”
Declan nodded. “Aye, son. I’m ready.”
###
About the author:
Leah Ross is a freelance writer and graphic designer with a penchant for loud electronic dance music and sappy love stories. She has been writing and creating art for most of her life, with works published by the International Library of Poetry and NewType USA. After receiving her BS in Journalism from the University of Colorado at Boulder, she settled in the Denver metro area and thoroughly enjoys the quirks of high-altitude living with her family and far-too-clingy cats. Having met her husband online and being happily married to him for almost fifteen years, Leah believes that love is unconventional and the rules are always up for negotiation.
For the latest updates on Leah Ross and her writing, and to sign up to follow her blog, please visit her website:
https://iamleahross.wordpress.com/
Discover other titles by Leah Ross
Legend of the Grimoire Series:
DESTINED: Legend of the Grimoire, Book Two
FATED: Legend of the Grimoire, Book Three
Fragments of Forever
Connect with Me:
Blog/Website: https://iamleahross.wordpress.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Leah-Ross/400835560095440
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1377895.Leah_Ross
Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/leahross
Preview of DESTINED
Thank you so much for reading CURSED. I hope you enjoyed it, and please continue reading for a sneak peek of DESTINED: Legend of the Grimoire, Book Two.
Chapter One
Eight years after Captain Guinn McCabe’s world changed forever, he regarded the approaching skyline of Terracova with trepidation. He’d avoided the city for as long as he could, it being the site of so many memories and problems he wanted to forget, but they had to stop at the Annali capital now, whether he wanted to or not. Terracova was the only place a fledgling mage in a self-study program could receive a magic license, and Guinn’s sixteen-year-old protégé Jonathan Morgan was ready to test for his. Guinn did not intend to dock, however. Morgan would spend the night by himself while the ship and the rest of the crew put in at the next port to the west. That would offer fewer distractions, for young Morgan and everyone else.
Morgan hoisted his small bag over his shoulder. Terracova sprawled into the lush rolling hills to the north, an awe-inspiring vista of gleaming white buildings and fertile gardens. He couldn’t believe he got to stay in the city alone that night, unchaperoned, and with only his exam to worry about.
Quartermaster Declan Maclairish clapped Morgan on the shoulder. “Dinna go havin’ too much fun tonight, lad. Ye need yer wits ‘bout ye tomorrow.”
Morgan smiled. “Of course, sir.”
“Ye’ll be all right by yerself?”
“I can handle myself, sir. No worries.”
“Will you be needing the brow, Mr. Morgan?” Guinn asked, joining them at the rail.
“No, sir!” Morgan wrapped a mooring line around his wrist and jumped over the side. He landed hard on his feet on the dock below and tossed the rope back up to Declan.
“Good luck, lad!” Declan shouted with a wave.
“We’ll be back to retrieve you tomorrow evening, Mr. Morgan!” Guinn called. “I expect to see that certification pin displayed proudly!”
“Aye, Captain!” He waved as the Grimoire set off again.
Morgan turned toward the city. He’d arranged for a room at a cheap inn just a block away from the Annali National Magic Certification Center a few weeks before. He didn’t feel any urgent need to check in at the moment, though, so he decided to use his few free hours before dusk to enjoy the city he hadn’t visited since he was a scrawny boy. Reaching the dock gate, he began to push through.
“Oy! Oy!” A squat man bustled out of a tiny office next to the gate. “Where’re ye goin,’ boy?”
“Out there.” Morgan pointed, raising an eyebrow at the man.
“Not until ye check in with me first.”
“Check in?”
“Protocol, lad. Gotta r
ecord all the comin’s and goin’s from this here gate.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know. Last time I was here this was all taken care of for me,” Morgan explained sheepishly.
“No worries, mate. Happens all the time,” the man said. “Name?”
“Jonathan Morgan.”
“Nice to meet ye, Morgan. I’m Blaine. Ship?”
“Aeon Grimoire.”
Blaine looked up from his roster, then over his shoulder at the dock. “The Grimoire is in port?”
“No,” said Morgan. “I’m on my own this time.”
“Ah. How long’re ye stayin’?”
“Until tomorrow evening.”
Blaine made a few marks on his roster. “Well then! Enjoy yer stay in Terracova and I’ll see ye tomorrow, Morgan.”
“Thank you, Blaine.” Morgan pushed through the gate.
He was at a loss for where to start. There were so many galleries, pubs, museums, and gardens—so much that had changed since his last visit—that he was spoiled for choice. He decided to head for the central garden; he was just itching to climb the gigantic rock formation now that he was experienced enough not to kill himself.
The rock garden was in a back corner of the huge park that sprawled across the center of Terracova, and Morgan wandered his way there, stopping when something caught his interest, in absolutely no hurry whatsoever. As he passed the small, serene glade where he’d attended his first avaku class, he smiled at the small group assembled and practicing there, remembering the revelation the art had been for him.