Copyright © Karen Tomlinson 2016
It is the right of Karen Tomlinson to be identified as the author of this work.
All rights reserved. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, photocopying, recording, mechanical or otherwise) without prior written permission of the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, organizations and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.
Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Cover art by Jonas Jodicke https://www.facebook.com/JojoesArt/#
Map by Gregory Shipp https://www.facebook.com/gregoryshippmapmaking
Map illustration by Kevin Heasman at https://www.facebook.com/dynamodoodles
Edited by Monica Wanat
Table of Contents
Map of The Eight Kingdoms
PART ONE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
PART TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
CHAPTER FIFTY
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
Acknowledgements
For Annie and Abbie, our beautiful girls.
May you blaze your own trail across this world!
This book is for you with all my love.
Silence swept through the forest, deafening to Arades Gillon’s fae ears. In the act of shoving a freshly felled tree further onto the ancient cart, he froze, his gut twisting with fear. The fresh scent of pine sap tickled his nose as he ignored the woodcutters bantering across the small clearing.
He pushed his bulk upright. Sweat beaded between his shoulder blades and trickled down his spine. Arades sucked in a deep breath, desperately reaching for the cold, calculating calm that had kept him alive for so many years.
It wasn’t there. His heart raced, pounding against his ribs; for the first time in his life, Arades readied himself to flee from his enemy. His breath became shallow and fast, his keen eyes searching out the nightmarish shadow that lurked in the gloom of the old forest. It wouldn’t be alone.
A guttural growl rippled through the trees, sinking deep into his bones. A violent shudder racked his body. For seventeen years that sound had been blissfully absent from his life; there was no mistaking it. The creature fixed its yellow, predatory gaze on one of the other woodcutters.
Arades had to run. Now.
Spinning on his heel, he burst into motion.
The Seeker snarled. Drool ran from its gaping jaws as it leaped from the dark shadows.
Yelling a warning to his friends would achieve nothing. They were as good as dead. Wild snarling filled the air as more Seekers burst from the forest. Petrified screams were cut short as human throats were slashed open by razor sharp claws.
Arades did not look back. Experience told him what he would see, and he did not wish to see his friends die such violent deaths. Terror squeezed his heart as yet more screams were abruptly silenced.
He would not—could not—fail. Panicked, Arades increased his effort and sprinted toward the town, its people and his beloved daughter.
***
The Seekers tore at the warm flesh and blood of the dead men, splintering and gnawing on their bones. Cranach gorged himself quickly and efficiently. He growled long and low; that small amount of warm human flesh did not sate his blood lust. If anything, he craved more. His pack had travelled for weeks without stopping to hunt, bypassing settlements where fresh fae and human flesh lived. On and on they had run, focused only on surviving and reaching their prey.
Relenting for one moment Cranach watched his brothers feast with an almost paternal relish, giving his starving pack time to drink the blood that would make them strong again. Minutes later, when only blood and ragged remains soiled the ground, Cranach snarled. The pack reacted instantly.
Their prey was so close; he could almost taste her filthy, mixed blood. She would not escape now. Besides failure would mean having his body broken slowly and painfully into pieces by his lord. His clawed fingers curled tightly around a small scrap of cloth. Snarling in distaste, he raised it to his nostrils, inhaling the sickly sweet scent that clung to it. This girl was more than the usual mix of human and fae, she was something he had never encountered before. The ancient power in her stench burned his sensitive nose, causing him to snort mucus into the air in an effort to expel it.
Revolted, he bared his teeth, stretched his body to its full height and howled. The pack instantly followed Cranach’s order. The muscles of their back legs bunched and rippled under their thick, greenish-brown hair as they burst into movement. Sweat glistened across their filthy, humanoid torsos, and their gore-covered jaws snapped menacingly at each other.
With shoulders hunched and heads thrust forward, the Seekers ducked between the branches of the dense trees.
Cranach growled, snapping a tree branch out of his way with one gigantic claw. Running upright was impossible in this forest. He howled once. His brothers immediately complied with his order. Without breaking stride, the Seekers fell on to all four limbs and increased their speed. Their black claws churned up the forest floor as they charged towards their prey and the unsuspecting trade town nearby.
***
Arades pumped his arms and legs until they burned, crashing through the forest, forgoing stealth. Wind rushed by his ears as he forced himself to go faster. Vaulting a rotten, moss covered tree trunk, his hands slipped and he stumbled over exposed slimy tree roots as he landed. Years of training and instinct kicked in and he righted himself immediately.
The forest was so thick around the northern trade town of Berriesford that taking to the sky was impossible. Arades needed at least ten feet of clear space around him to spread his wings and fly. His lungs burned, sweat running down his forehe
ad into his eyes. Feral snarling and crashing permeated the dark damp shadows behind him as the beasts gave chase, but he dare not look back lest he stumble and fall.
Brambles clutched at his boots, branches catching his clothes and legs—but he pushed on resolutely, his long legs devouring the uneven ground.
He broke from the forest into the arable land surrounding the town. Arades roared as he launched himself upwards into the sky. He snapped out his wings and beat against the air, faster and with more vigour than he had used for years. Thousands of tiny feathers covered the strong membranes, catching the invisible strength of the breeze.
Gods, he had been so stupid! As a warrior he should have flown more, armoured more…. “Complacent idiot!” he berated himself.
His wings were weak from underuse. Arades clenched his jaw, forcing the armoured particles out from between his feathers, shifting them with his fae magic until they completely covered the whole of his wing span. Within seconds a burnished, golden metal coated his wings, tattooed with his own unique pattern of glowing markings.
The stone town of Berriesford nestled in gently rolling farmland two miles in the distance. Even from here he could see the busy trade roads leading into the town. Arades swallowed his fear for all those people, feeling the malevolent presence of the Seekers behind him. With all his strength, he drove himself onward using the wind to help him soar towards his daughter.
Curious faces looked up. Berriesford folk were unaccustomed to seeing armoured fae warriors in their skies. Trouble was scarce in these parts since the treaty with the Ice Witches nearly one hundred years earlier.
Arades ignored their surprised exclamations and gazed anxiously toward the roof of his own small house. Landing solidly on the dirt track outside his home, Arades sprinted to his front door. He nearly knocked the door off its hinges. The shelves he had put up the month before rattled enough to knock down the small statue of Lunaria, the goddess of creation. It smashed into pieces on the floor. Arades grimaced, hoping that was not a bad omen.
“Diamond! Diamond! Where are you!” he bellowed.
He belatedly remembered she was working in the school house. He had promised Tanelle, Diamond’s mother, he would educate their daughter and that is what he had done. Now she was on the other side of town, the side nearest to the beasts that hunted her. Growling with frustration at his stupid mistake, he grabbed his two Silverbore swords from beside the fireplace, turned and ran back outside.
The stooped form of General Edo came limping around the corner of the house. To the people of Berriesford this man had only ever been seen as a scruffy forest dweller—a loner, who lived in a small hut in the forest and spent his time gathering and selling the sweet yellow berries that grew among its vast emerald depths.
“Arades! What’s going on?” General Edo shouted, narrowing his steely grey eyes and scrutinising Arades’ armoured wings and urgent movements.
“They’re here! They’re here for her. We have to get her away from this town. Now!” shouted Arades, his brown eyes full of anxiety.
His friend nodded and immediately shook off his tattered cloak. General Edo straightened his shoulders and spine to expand his wings, transforming into a fae as tall and broad as Arades. Metal shimmered across the general’s wings. Grim-faced and determined, both fae warriors bent their knees, spread their golden wings and launched in to the sky.
Diamond hummed a gentle tune as she walked between the neat rows of wooden school desks. The pile of slate boards balanced precariously in her arms rattled. Offering to clean the schoolroom and lock up today was completely selfish. She liked the peace and quiet of the old school house after the children had gone home.
Leaning on the wall, Diamond glanced through the window at the trees and shuddered. It wasn’t that she was scared of the eerie wood that led to the old temple grounds, it just seemed more sinister than usual today.
A sharp gust of wind tugged leaves from the wildly swaying branches, sending them dancing into the air. A sudden colourful cacophony of greens and golds whirled until the leaves settled like a beautiful carpet on the ground. She frowned, deliberately shrugging away the heavy unease that had plagued her since she had said a curt goodbye to her father this morning.
Diamond mentally kicked herself; arguing with her dad would not change her life. She was seventeen and acknowledged that he only worried for her safety. It was hard to admit he was right. The war and her heritage made travelling a dangerous prospect; besides, much as she wanted to find work in one of Avalonia’s more southern cities, she did not want to leave her dad behind.
Diamond tried to feel grateful. She was lucky compared to other half-bloods. Her father had taught her reading and writing and had helped her secure a paid job, paltry though her income was. She huffed despondently. The thought of being an assistant teacher in this tiny schoolhouse until she was old and grey was truly depressing.
Stop feeling sorry for yourself, she admonished herself, knowing other half-blood girls her age were either married off or put to work in one of the inns or pleasure houses that crowded the Dregs. On the north side of Berriesford, it was a warren of dirty small streets, pleasure houses and a haven for shady, underhand deals. She was lucky—really she was. At least her father loved her enough to educate her and wanted her to stay safe.
Besides, Berriesford wasn’t that bad. It was sort of safe here, not like the southern borders of Avalonia where the war with the Wraith Lord raged on. Some of the stories she heard from the bedraggled refugees who arrived, starving and desperate, made her blood curdle. It spoke volumes that they had braved months of exhaustion and hunger to travel through the endless forest to get as far north as Berriesford.
Her fingers absentmindedly brushed some chalk dust off a slate. At least her father wasn’t trying to find a fae mate for her among the male newcomers or trying to marry her off to some local tradesman. Diamond snorted. She had absolutely no desire to saddle herself with a mate or a husband.
Besides, most men—of either race—considered her looks unnatural and her mixed blood offensive. It was clear she was considered the lowest possible marriage candidate for anyone. Her top lip curled in a snarl. Respectable boys avoided her—until their parents weren’t watching, then it became fun to torment her. And passing traders who were too drunk or desperate to care often caused her problems, considering a young half-blood an easy target, especially when they cornered her alone.
Diamond’s hands turned sweaty, and she thrust thoughts of being cornered out of her head.
Her unique looks were a curse. Her father said she was beautiful and stood out, but she didn’t want to be noticed; she just wanted to feel normal. Even other half-bloods ridiculed her appearance. That was because most of them could pass for either fae or human and were generally accepted into their chosen society. Diamond was simultaneously too fae and too human; her up-tilted, vivid eyes and delicately pointed ears declared her fae heritage, and her average height and lack of wings revealed her human legacy.
Diamond’s nostrils flared as the deep-seated pain of rejection raised its ugly head. In a trading town like Berriesford people were supposed to be more open-minded, especially with so many hunters, traders, miners and refugees venturing into town. But it did not matter, such deep-seated and ancient prejudices against bloodlines were not easily set aside, even in a town so vastly removed from the southern and eastern cities of Avalonia.
That was one of the reasons her father had wanted her to stay at home. The bigger cities were more devout in their religious beliefs and laws, and ever since she was small, Diamond’s life had been a mix of insults and fights to defend herself. Her father had fought many times over the years, sometimes viciously, to protect her from the intolerant attention of others. But he could not be there all the time. If it hadn’t been for her gangly best friend Tom, she would have gone mad from loneliness years ago.
A pair of misfits together, she chuckled, picturing her friend’s floppy brown hair and light brown eyes. Bei
ng skinny and weak, Tom had been tormented nearly as much as Diamond.
She clenched and unclenched her fingers at the thought of all the dark alleys she had run down and hidden in over the years. Controlling her panic, she breathed deeply until the feeling settled. Together they had become experts at hiding from the gangs of kids the crime syndicates used to steal and pick pockets of the drunk and unsuspecting. When he had turned fifteen, Tom shot up to over six feet; although still skinny, he had begun fighting back.
Smiling, Diamond began cleaning the slates with a soft cloth that sent motes of chalk dust swirling into the air. Coughing and waving her hand in front of her face, she stood and placed the slates neatly on an old wooden shelf with a glance out of the window as she did so. A movement in the small copse of trees behind the yard made her squint. She wiped her hands down the skirt of her grey woollen dress and stifled a groan.
Mr Stenson’s goats must have escaped again. Irritated by the old man’s forgetfulness, Diamond grimaced. For the third time this week she was going to have to round them up and lock them back in their pen, or they would be stolen. Racing out of the front doors and down the steps, she careened around the back of the old stone school house.
A chill wind eddied over her bare arms, making her shiver. She rubbed them as she ran into the gloom between the trees, trying to ignore her unease.
An ancient, round stone structure with a domed roof stood in the shadows. A temple to the goddess of creation. Its crumbling walls and lichen-covered roof always saddened Diamond. People this far north didn’t care much for religion—of any kind. The state of the temple was a testament to such apathy. Nevertheless it remained standing. The clearing around it, scarred with fire pits, served as a burning ground for the impoverished dead. None but the moneyed traders and wealthy business people could afford the burning tax the sheriff imposed for the larger, more prestigious crematorium across town.
As she neared the temple, Diamond’s footsteps stilled. She paused under the thick branches of a large, red Lyca tree and listened intently. The wind blew the leaves so wildly it was difficult to hear anything above the din. Sudden snuffling from the undergrowth made her jump, then she giggled as a goat came trotting up.
A Bond of Venom and Magic (The Goddess and the Guardians Book 1) Page 1