Wild Magic (The Island Book 1)

by C. M. Estopare

  “Guilty.” She shrugged. Clouds misted over her, a white gossamer gown slithered over her naked form. “Or, not guilty. There is only so much I can say. But I can tell you this: this island here? It needs your help.” Moira’s grip tightened. “I need your help.”

  “If you’re a god, can’t you help yourself?”

  “There are protocols in place. Rules.” She shook her head. “There is only so much I can do.”

  Ren’s heart skipped a beat. “Am I high?” she rolled her eyes. “As in—on drugs?”

  “You are safe.” Moira said, avoiding the question. “Look.” She pointed. Finger hovering over the northern tip of the island. “That is the Northern Shore. And further up,” her finger fell on the ocean of trees. “That is what the people call, ‘the Wilds’.” She sneaked a glance at Ren before continuing. “Oh my, are you afraid of heights? Are you going to be sick?”

  Ren swallowed the bile charging up her throat. “Nah.” She gritted out. “Just—go on.”

  “At the very tip of the Wilds—that there is the Heartlands.” And her finger stopped. “You must go there.”

  “Why?”

  Moira quieted. Brought her golden gaze to the sea and shivered. “Because I am dying. And if I die, the entire island will suffer. The Earth will be thrown out of whack.”

  “The Earth?”

  “What your people are doing on the shore is poisoning me, the island. It is a sickness that bleeds into my bones, my soil. It is a slow and painful death that, luckily, can be halted. I must be reset.”

  “What do you mean?” Ren’s head hurt. None of this made sense to her. First, she had to accept the existence of magic and magical creatures. Now, she had to acknowledge that a goddess really did take care of the island. Not only that, but she was the island. And if the island suffered and died because of her grandfather’s operation, then the Earth would suffer too. “How is all of this possible?”

  Moira sighed. “There is only so much I can say.” It felt like the goddess’s go-to answer. Like scripted lines.

  Ren shook her head. “How can I help if I don’t understand?”

  “I gave you power, didn’t I? I did this because I knew you’d help. I knew you’d accept our ways.”

  What?

  “There are twelve Scions, Renata. And you must find them all. You are my reset button. Without my Scions, I will die and the island will perish. The Earth will cease to exist.”

  Ren coughed. “You could say the same thing a hundred times over and I still wouldn’t understand it. You’ve gotta explain!”

  Moira narrowed her eyes. “I apologize, but there is only so much I can tell you. Meet me in person and you will understand everything. But in order to do that, you must gather my Scions and descend into my heart. Do you understand this?”

  Meet you in person? Ren blinked. Were they not already meeting in person? “Your Scions?”

  Moira smiled softly, her shoulders relaxing. “In the Heartlands, there are four. On the southern shores, there are four. And the Mesh, my dear, are missing two. Find them all and descend into my heart, here.” She jabbed a finger at the Heartlands.

  “And you will explain everything there? No more of this—there is only so much I can say?”

  Moira stiffened. “Is that any way to speak to a deity?”

  “You’re the one asking favors of me, lady.”

  At that, the goddess chuckled. “Such spirit. Yes, Renata. But you must gather my Scions and prolong the poisoning of the island by your friends. This Morgan Black.”

  “I can do that.”

  “And, let me reiterate, if the island dies, the Earth will perish along with it.”

  Ren still didn’t understand that part. “Can you…explain?”

  Moira shook her head. “No.” The mist returned, swallowing her form. Blinding Ren in a fluffy white. “There is only so much I can say.”

  Ren woke up choking.

  59

  Gasping for air, Ren stumbled out of the water. Took the first hand offered her and shivered as Kato drooped a cotton cloak around her shoulders. A semicircle of wide-eyed Mesh surrounded her, the people gaping before dipping into bows.

  “Elder Lindiwe?”

  The elder stood from her crouch, painted face calm. “Yes, Shamaness?”

  “Please—come with me.”

  The elder grinned. Nodding curtly, she turned to follow. Ren grasped Kato’s hand tighter, “You too.”

  “Are you calling a meeting?”

  Ren cracked a grin. “Something like that.” I’ve got a lot to tell you.

  Moving to a secluded spot in the trees, Ren pulled the cloak closer to her body despite the damp heat pushing down on her. Up above, the canopy blocked out the sky but she knew it to be midday. How in the hell?

  Elder Lindiwe met her, along with three other grim-faced looked elders. Kato joined last, hands clasped behind his back.

  “What did you see?” Elder Lindiwe asked. “Have the Mesh finally been given a purpose again?”

  Ren swallowed. “The people on the beach—I’m just going to call them Morgan Black, okay? They took your village because they plan to move further inland to drill down into whatever they can find there.”

  Kato gritted his teeth. “They will go to the Great River, then. Or, the Heartlands.” He kneaded his forehead. “Either one would result in disaster. The Great River supplies all of the island’s water. If the black tower contaminated that it would kill off every living thing.”

  “Exactly.” Ren said, scanning the elders’ faces. “Every living thing would die. Pretty much speaks for itself, right?”

  “Has the Goddess given you a plan of attack? Will she destroy Morgan Black and the black towers for us?” Elder Lindiwe said, clasping her hands before her chest in a sign of hope.

  Ren shook her head. “She has told me to gather the Scions. All twelve.”

  Elder Lindiwe’s face fell.

  “That would mean…”

  “Contacting the other tribes.” A man stepped forward, his voice gravelly and low. He wore the same facial markings as Lindiwe, black with a hint of gray spreading across his cheeks and forehead. “This is something we have not done in centuries, young Shamaness.”

  “For good reason.” Lindiwe continued. “Through the Wilds, we have the Heartlands and the Vost. To the east, is Angel Fire Steppe. Opposite the steppe and the Heartlands is the Meridian Sea and the Sitras. We are far and few, Shamaness. Where exactly did the goddess tell you to begin searching?”

  Ren bit her lip. Things weren’t going to be as easy as she hoped they would. And of-fucking-course they wouldn’t be. “The Heartlands.”

  “The Vost.” The male elder corrected. “The goddess wants us to begin with the Vost.”

  Elder Lindiwe sighed. “They are an aggressive bunch. Wary of all Outsiders.”

  Ren kicked a rock. “Are you saying we can’t do it?”

  “The elder is saying that it will not be easy.” Kato said, crossing his arms over his muscled chest. “But it is possible.”

  “Possible, yet what if it proves fruitless? The goddess says to gather the Scions, and for what?” the male elder asked, his long earlobes dancing as he shook his head.

  “The island is dying.” Ren said matter-of-factly. “You want to ask her yourself? She’ll tell you the same damned thing. The island is dying and she needs her twelve Scions to reset her.”

  “Reset her?” Elder Lindiwe repeated. “Reset her as in…?”

  “Descend into her heart.” It sounded even crazier coming from her mouth. Ren shrugged. “Hey, it’s what she said. I can’t make this shit up. Things keep getting weirder and weirder out here.”

  At that, Kato chuckled.

  “She says go to the Vost to begin the search. That would mean we would be searching for the Vost Shapers.” Elder Lindiwe stroked her chin, her eyes concentrating on the forest beyond.

  Ren narrowed her eyes. Lindiwe knew more than she let on. “And why are they called Shapers
instead of Scions?”

  “The Mesh have always ruled the Elementals. Sitras, the God Callers. The Vost call Moira’s Power with their hands, voices, and vision. One is even able to steal another’s skin.” Lindiwe said. “Centuries ago, elders didn’t just sit on councils and initiate Dreaming ceremonies. Long ago, we were ambassadors. We were the bridges between the Mesh, Vost, and Sitras. We were more than we are now.” Lindiwe looked to Ren now, face full of hope. “And thanks to this calamity, we may yet again become what we were in our long past. Great.”

  When the sun hung low, cresting the horizon, Ren dismissed the group. Their decision: travel to the Heartlands in the morning.

  “How far away is it?” Ren asked Kato as she slumped against a tree trunk, still naked beneath her blanket.

  “Five days trek if you’re alone. Maybe more with a group.”

  “Have you been to the Heartlands before?”

  He shrugged, arms crossed. “Before the Heartlands comes the Great River. We must cross that before we can even think about treading into Vost territory.” He was being curt with her. Professional and short.

  Ren raised an eyebrow. “Should I say sorry for something?”

  He wouldn’t look at her. “You wouldn’t understand. I think I should apologize.”

  “For what?”

  “Breaking tradition.” He said, his voice softening. “I’m not supposed to touch you.”

  Kato left her with that. Ren listened to his footfalls crunching through leafs and foliage.

  60

  Several days passed before they made it to the edge of the Wilds. As they made camp for the last time on the Wilds outskirts, Ren listened to the monstrous roaring of a massive waterfall falling into a colossal divide that seemed to span the entirety of the island.

  Hanging from a teakwood branch, Ren stared out at the Great River beyond. It carved through the plains like the wide, jagged, mouth of a jack-o-lantern. White foamy water poured through its stony sides, washing down into an enormous abyss.

  “There used to be a bridge spanning it.” Elder Lindiwe said, holding her shawl tight around her body as she kept watch. “Now, I do not even see the remains of one.” She spoke in a gutted version of English-island-speak. Ren was getting used to the language. “I am not sure how we’ll cross.”

  “We’ll climb.” Ren said. “Seems simple enough.”

  “Women and children.” Elder Lindiwe’s voice was flat. “Climbing that monstrous drop?”

  It looked to be a couple hundred feet deep. But, then again, even from this vantage point Ren couldn’t see the floor of the abyss. It was probably flooded with water. “Well, do you see another way across?”

  Lindiwe pointed toward the west. “We could travel along its side and meet the Meridian Sea. Sitras built a stone bridge a long time ago. We can hope that it still stands.”

  “And if it doesn’t?”

  Lindiwe shook her head. “Then, I guess we are climbing.”

  Ren chewed her bottom lip. There had to be a better way. “Think Kato could throw them?” she regretted the words before she had even finished speaking.

  “Yes, let us throw people fifty feet across and hope they do not become fleshy pancakes. That seems feasible.”

  Rolling her eyes, Ren let out a snort. “How do you know what pancakes are?”

  “I have my ways.”

  In the distance, a feathered silhouette sat perched on the gorge’s huge edge. Someone was watching them and it wasn’t Bull Skull. Maybe whoever was keeping tabs on them across the river would be willing to help? There was only one way to find out.

  A tangerine sky outlined Ren, Kato, and Lindiwe as they peeled away from the outskirts the following morning and trekked to the edge of the Great River. From here, the monstrous waterfall was deafening. Ren had to shout to be heard over the cascading rapids of waves.

  Across the edge, she could make out a huge bird. Probably about the size of the White House back home. It spread teal wings but didn’t fly. Instead, its clawed feet curled into the ground as the thing walked toward them. Teetering in an obsidian saddle sat a woman with a face of stone. At her neck, a light blue Scion crystal dangled. Ren’s face lit up—had they already found their first Vost Shaper?

  The woman scowled as her bird crept to the edge and perched there. Standing in the saddle, she screamed at them: “I am Madalitso of the Heartlands. Only Outsiders trek this close to the Great River. This holy area is off limits to all but the Paragon!”

  “While the Mesh have a shamaness, the Vost have a paragon. That is their leader.” Lindiwe murmured.

  Ren took a step forward, pebbles crumbled underfoot as her toes met nothing but air. “We are the Mesh! We come seeking your Paragon. The goddess has requested the help of her Shapers.”

  The gigantic bird screeched. Ren ignored the urge to slap her palms over her ears as the thing’s screeching caw tore through her eardrums. “Outsiders may not cross. Nor may Outsiders enter the Paragon’s city.” She shifted on the bird, sliding a hefty spear from her back. “This is your last chance to turn round before I attack. This area is off limits to all but the Paragon!”

  “That’s a cockatrice.” Kato hissed, squinting his eyes. “We need to leave.”

  “A what?”

  “It’s breath will turn us to stone. We must find another way. There is no point in dying today.” Lindiwe muttered, taking a step back. “Come.”

  “So—we’ve come here for nothing, then?” Ren wouldn’t move. “Fuck that. Hey!” she screamed over the waterfalls. “This is your last fucking chance to listen to me—or, I’ll burn your fucking bird, Mada-whatever! The island is dying. The goddess needs her Scions. So that means you—yeah, you—have to let us across.” Fire cut through her palms. Her contorting fingers contained it. “Anyone in the mood for fried chicken?” Ren teased.

  Kato and Lindiwe huffed as the bird took flight, its scream spearing across the sky like a missile.

  “Your jokes are bad and you should feel bad.” Kato hissed.

  Ren rolled her eyes. “Oh, shut up and help me KO this thing.”

  Countinued in WILD HUNT...

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  Thank you for reading and please leave a review! I love feedback and suggestions.

  Other Books by C.M. Estopare

  The Island Series

  Prequel: Wild Hope

  Wild Magic

  Wild Hunt - Coming Early 2018

  Wild Fury - Coming Late 2018

  Wild Fire - Coming Early 2019

  The Kindred Souls Trilogy

  Winterskin

  Blade and Soul

  Firebrand - Coming June 2018

  Standalone Novels

  Heartfelt Sounds

  Connect with me!

  Thank you so much for reading WILD MAGIC! I hope you stick around for the rest of THE ISLAND series! Wanna chat? Contact me on Facebook, Twitter, through my blog, or join my reader group! I am always super-duper excited to speak to anyone who loves fantasy.

  All the best,

  C.M. Estopare