Companion of Darkness_An Epic Fantasy Series

by CJ Rutherford

  Companion of Darkness

  Chaos Wars: Book One

  CJ Rutherford

  Copyright (c) 2018 by CJ Rutherford

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are purely the result of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual people or events is entirely coincidental.

  Any reference to real life or events happening in this world is intended to enhance the storyline and give it a sense of realism and authenticity.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means-electronic, mechanical, photographic (photocopying), recording or otherwise-without prior permission in writing from the author, with the exception of a reviewer who may quote brief passages in the review.

  This ebook is licensed for personal enjoyment only.

  Dedication

  To my characters—maybe one day you’ll do as you’re told!

  Chapter One

  Teralia – The Great Forest

  I clapped my hand over my mouth to muffle the giggles. Any minute now, I thought, folding my gossamer wings tightly against my back. The forest was unnaturally silent, just the way I’d planned it. My forest friends were watching as well, waiting.

  I squealed as my two older sisters and brother flew straight into the diaphanous threads of silk stretching between the boughs of the tree. Within seconds, their struggles caused the threads to bond together, creating a very sticky prison bouncing between the thick trunks of two mighty oaks. The three of them quickly became a tangle of arms and legs. Loud and angry arms and legs. Uh oh.

  “Jesaela, I’m going to rip your pretty pink wings off when I get out of here,” Browaen bellowed, and my sisters’ voices were too enraged for me to work out the words.

  Oops. Maybe I’ve taken it a bit too far this time. I mean, all they’d done was call me an immature, lying, mischievous imp. Looking at the struggling mass, I grinned. Perhaps they were right...except for the lying part. I hated being called a liar.

  Browaen had called me an imp for as long as I could remember, even though I’d just passed my hundredth birthday and was now – officially, at least – an adolescent. He was the only person I tolerated calling me by the name, however, because I knew he meant it affectionately.

  I sighed. “Hold still. If you struggle it’ll only make it worse.”

  “Get us out of here now, or Mother and Father will hear of it!” Selaer, the eldest of us, always played the parents card. Typical.

  I studied her, deciding if another moment or two in the web might be justified. I imagined Father’s face, his lips curling up at the corners, attempting a stern expression while hiding his amusement. Then Mother’s stormy expression, ripe with consequences and punishment, came to mind. No, I suppose I’d better quit while I’m ahead.

  “Okay, okay. Give me a minute.” I cupped my hands around my mouth and started clicking. I didn’t actually need to make a sound; I could silently communicate with all the creatures of the forest. The clicking was just my way of masking my power.

  There was a snort from Trianna. “By the Maker, the imp actually thinks she can talk to the creatures. How utterly ridic—”

  Her words cut off as the branches parted, and two of the largest spiders any of them had ever seen descended on the same silk thread that bound the trio. Hah! My sisters’ screams as the spiders attacked the bindings were highly gratifying.

  I suppose most might have found the spiders terrifying. Their bulbous bodies were over three feet across, and their spindly legs stretched out around ten feet on either side. Then there were the eyes; dozens of tiny glittering mirrors. And I guess the venomous pincers might have looked menacing, if they hadn’t been hard at work slicing through the web I’d asked them to spin.

  With a final snap, my siblings were free, and the trio darted up and away, halting a safe – at least, what they presumed to be safe – distance away, my two sisters peering wide-eyed over my pale-faced brother’s shoulders. Their wings fluttered, ready to speed them to safety.

  Browaen widened his eyes. “So you weren’t lying, you weren’t making it all up. You really can talk to the spiders.” His face reddened. “I’m sorry for what we called you earlier, and I’m sorry we didn’t believe you.” He looked at the two arachnids that were now talking to me in their strange clickety-clack tongue. “What are they saying?”

  I giggled. “They’re saying you smell delicious.” It was a lie of course, but the expressions on my siblings’ faces were worth it. “Just kidding,” I snorted between breaths, “they’re just saying goodbye.” I was having so much fun. “I think if my friends wanted to feed on you, you wouldn’t be where you are now.” Trianna’s face turned green. Served them right. Imp, indeed!

  And with that, my arachnid friends gave me what might have been a spider bow before scuttling away through the forest, vanishing in seconds into the canopy above.

  My wings popped out with a slight whish and I fluttered up to my siblings. I looked at them sheepishly. “I’m sorry if that scared you, but I figured it’d be the best way to get you to believe me.”

  Browaen shivered as he watched the retreating spiders. I knew he was terrified. I actually felt a little sorry for what I’d put them through...a little.

  Selaer took me by the hands. She gazed at me from the pale blue eyes we all shared. Her hair was fine and golden, like Trianna’s and mine, hair we’d inherited from our mother, along with our slight builds.

  Browaen, in comparison, looked like our father with his dark features and muscular build.

  “And we’re sorry we called you a liar. Aren’t we, Trianna?”

  My other sister floated slightly apart from us, her arms folded and a huff on her face. “Hmph. I suppose so.”

  Oh, how gracious of her!

  A chime sounded, its beautiful tone echoing in our ears. I took off to answer the summons, laughing as I looked over my shoulders. “Last one home is dragon dung!”

  They didn’t stand a chance of catching me. I may have been the youngest, but I was the fastest in the family, and I swooped and soared, grinning from ear to ear, as I cut through the maze of branches and trunks, racing home.

  All the earlier bitterness was forgotten as I took in the world around me. The forest teemed with life, and golden shafts of sunlight speared through the canopy. A flock of small birds intercepted me, chirping with excitement as they raced alongside.

  “Hello, little friends,” I shouted above the air rushing over me. “I’m afraid I don’t have time to play right now. Maybe later, okay?”

  A feeling of playful disappointment came from them, along with anticipation of some possible shenanigans later on, but my thoughts were interrupted as the dense forest gave way. I flew out into the immense clearing, clear brilliant blue skies crowning the expanse. Mighty and ancient oak trees rimmed the area, but the tree sitting in the center of the clearing dwarfed them. It stood hundreds of feet high, and even in the bright sunlight it shone with an inner glow. This was my home, the home to the faer race. This was Faerhaven, what we called the Tree.

  The sight never failed to take my breath away. This was the heart of the forest, the fount of life and magical growth. Every tree and creature in the forest was bound to this place. Tiny lights flitted around the trunk and boughs. My people, thousands of them, went about their daily lives in happiness and contentment.

  A rustle behind me alerted me to the arrival of my siblings. Browaen hovered to my right, seeming to read my mind. “It’s always the same, isn’t it? I can never stop the extra beat of my heart whenever I enter the clearing.”

  The chi
me sounded in our heads, louder this time.

  “Someone’s impatient,” said Trianna, as she passed us on her way to our dwellings. My mother was a handmaiden to the queen, so our home was near the base of the Tree, just above where the first mighty branches reached out from the massive trunk. The queen’s court resided here, inside the widest part of the tree, but as we passed it, I saw it was quiet, the throne room deserted and the huge crystal doors shut tight.

  Odd, I thought. Normally this time of day was dedicated to court business. The throne room should have bustled with activity. Even stranger were the looks we...I…got from the other faeries. Not looks as much as…non-looks: a quick glance away, a lowered gaze, as if reluctant to meet my eyes.

  Something was wrong, but it wasn’t until I entered our home that I realized how wrong. The silence of the queen’s court was because the queen wasn’t there. She was here. The grave expression on her face, and the unshed tears welling in my mother’s eyes caused dread to pool inside me.

  My brother and sisters knelt in deference to the royal presence, but my father left my mother’s side to come over and take my hands before I could kneel as well. His normally tanned face was pale, and his mouth was pressed together in a tight line. This alone was enough to send a sliver of ice into my heart.

  “Jesaela, the queen would like to ask you something.” He inclined his head to our monarch.

  I’d seen her before of course, but never this close, and I gasped at her beauty. Her long auburn hair was the color of the last leaves clinging to the Tree in autumn, and her chestnut eyes were flecked with the golden sunlight flickering through the canopy at noon. Her face was gentle and kind, although sad. I wondered what had made her sad.

  She patted the seat next to her. “Come, child. Sit with me while we talk.” Her voice was as musical as a mountain stream flowing over a smooth bed of pebbles, and her smile settled my nerves, just a little, as I sat.

  “Jesaela, you know that the king and queen of the eldar had a daughter some years ago, around the same time you were born?”

  I nodded. What has this to do with me?

  The queen sighed and twisted her hands in her lap. “There is a custom among the eldar royalty. Because births among their race are so rare, perhaps as rare as once every century, it is customary for a child from another eldar or lower elven family to be adopted, to become a companion to the eldar child...a sibling, perhaps, might be a better way to describe the arrangement. Do you understand me so far, child?”

  I nodded, my brows furrowing. “Yes, your majesty. But what does this have to do with me? I have a family already, and even though they can be a pain in the butt at times, I love them all.” I shot a look at Trianna. “Mostly.” Then I looked at my family. The expressions of pain on their faces killed a part of me as the penny dropped.

  The queen took my hands. Her soft voice trembled slightly as she spoke words I already knew. “There are no children of like age among the eldar or elven people, so the eldar king sent messages to the other races. The dwelves are almost as slow to birth as the eldar, so they found no suitable children there, either.” She dropped her head. “Part of our blessing has become our curse, Jesaela, for you were born the same year as the princess. Her father has selected you to be his daughter’s companion.” The last sentence came out as a whisper.

  Our blessing. While the faer counted their lives in centuries, we were fireflies when compared to the eldar, who were nearly immortal, living for thousands of years. And with our shorter life span came an increased birth rate. Yes, our blessing was our children, but as the queen had pointed out, it had also become my curse.

  “No!”

  I caught my breath as my brother stood up, his teeth bared in a feral snarl.

  “Browaen...” My father tried to grab my brother’s arm, but Browaen was too quick, and reached the queen before he could be restrained.

  “No,” he repeated. “They can’t have her!” He grabbed my hand away from the queen’s, a breach of etiquette that caused a collective intake of breath. I was suddenly aware of the two guards flanking the queen, the glamour concealing them vanishing as they approached Browaen.

  I looked at him as if for the first time. For as long as I could remember, Browaen had treated me like an annoyance. In fact, all of my siblings had. I was so much younger than them – almost a century – but now he was willing to fight the queen and her guard on my behalf? My mouth opened and closed, and my breath sped up to match the hammering in my chest.

  Before the guards could act, the queen raised a hand, halting them in their tracks. She turned to my brother, who gazed defiantly back. His jaw was set, and I felt an overwhelming urge to hug him.

  The queen leaned forward. “It is a great honor to be chosen to be—”

  “No! It’s no honor to serve those monsters,” Browaen spat. He turned to our parents. “Are you just going to let them take her? I can’t believe you’d let that happen.”

  My father stretched his arms out beseechingly. “My son, we have no choice.”

  “We always have a choice. We can fight!” His eyes darted to my mother, then to the queen and the guards. “We outnumber the eldar a hundred to one, and our magic, it’s...it’s powerful...in its own way.” He knelt in front of her, tears streaming down his face. “Please...please, don’t let them have her.”

  The queen dabbed at the corner of an eye and gently shook her head. “I’m sorry, young one. Even if we could stand against the eldar, they control the dragons. The Tree—the whole forest would burn if we defied them.”

  I didn’t understand any of this. All I knew about the eldar was what I’d heard in stories, and the glimpses of their Citadel, stolen on nights I’d escaped from my bed and flown to the tallest branches of the Tree. The glistening lights were a beacon, a childhood dream. I’d always wished to go there, to walk amongst the wondrous eldar in their magical castle. I’d never even seen a dragon, though from the vantage point up so high, I could see the far-off glow of the Mountains of Fire, their homeland in the north.

  By the horror etched on my family’s faces, it was clear they knew more about the eldar than I did, but then that was hardly surprising. Faer children rarely interacted with older faer outside their own family.

  Then a memory of a recent conversation I’d overheard flashed into clarity. I’d been in bed, and my parents had clearly thought I was asleep. I couldn’t remember the exact words, because at the time I had indeed been about to drift into dreams, but they’d mentioned how innocent I was and how sad they were about me having to learn the truth. I’d barely remembered the words up until now, but now the memory chilled me.

  I was bitterly conflicted. Part of me reeled with excitement at the possibility of me...me, lowly little Jesaela…traveling to the land of my dreams, but then I looked at my family, at the sadness in their eyes. It was like they’d already lost me.

  I stood up. “You know, maybe it won’t be so bad. I mean...the princess might be lovely, and I’ve always wanted to visit the Citadel, haven’t I? And it’s not as if I’ll never see you again—”

  The cold pit in my stomach dropped below freezing. My family couldn’t return my gaze, and as I looked at the queen, her head shook, almost imperceptibly.

  No! This can’t be happening.

  “How long do I have?”

  The queen looked up at my words, her breath catching in her throat as tears slipped down her pale cheeks. She looked at the ground.

  So…not long then.

  “Their emissary is waiting below,” she whispered.

  My mother’s sobs echoed my sisters’. Browaen reached me first, clutching me to his broad chest. I was numb. I had no time, no time for farewells, no time to say goodbye to my friends, to my people, who were like one huge extended family.

  “Momma?” I hadn’t called her that in decades, but I needed her now. She rushed to me, crushing me in her arms. For a second, as I clung to her, a distant memory stirred in my mind.

  It was my f
irst day, the day my wings came. Faer aren’t considered truly born until their wings sprout, usually around their tenth birthday. The ridges on my shoulder blades indicating my wings were ready to emerge had appeared in my fifth year. I dimly remembered the fuss this had caused but concentrated on what was going to happen as my mother and I stood atop one of the loftiest boughs of the Tree.

  “Feel the wind, Jesaela.” My mother’s thoughts had entered my mind, banishing the fear and bringing the wind. It filled me, warm, fragrant, and alive. I let go of my doubt and fell forward.

  The branches stung my body as I shot through them, my kin watching my descent, hundreds of faer gathered on the branches as I flashed past them. Down…down…down. I loved the fall, embraced it, the wind whipping my hair up like a streaming cape of gold as I fell.

  Even the painful snap of my virgin wings emerging from my back couldn’t suppress the cry of joy as I stretched them wide, darting through the boughs, faster and faster. Laughter split the air, and I realized it came from me, mixing with the cheers coming from my people.

  People I would never, ever see again. I wrapped my arms around my mother, breathing in the scent of her, jasmine and honey, and vowed never to forget it.

  My sisters joined in, and I reveled in the warmth and love flowing between us.

  Then I looked at my father. His ruined expression wrecked whatever self-control I possessed, and the floodgates of my tears opened. I held an arm out and he joined in, Browaen completing the circle.

  Magic flowed through our veins, strengthening the already unbreakable link. The spell spoke to me, promising that I would never be alone, that whenever I was in need, whenever I was in pain, they would be there for me. I cried. My shoulders wracked as sobs overcame me, but then the queen stood, her normally graceful shoulders bowed.

  “It’s time.” Her voice quivered with something. Was it rage? Shame?