Tales Of Nevaeh: The Trilogy and Backstory of the Epic Sci-Fi Fantasy Series Tales Of Nevaeh: (The 4 Book Bundled Box Set)

by David Wind

  “Rest,” Areenna said. “It is healing well. I checked the bandages earlier. Can you eat?”

  Mikaal nodded. “My stomach feels as though it is pressing against my backbone.”

  Areenna smiled for the first time since the attack. She exhaled, reached out and stroked his cheek. “Then you are healing well.”

  He covered her hand with his before she could withdraw it. Looking into her eyes, he said, “Thank you.”

  She smiled again as she pulled her hand free. A flush had streamed to her face at his look and touch. “Let me get you some tarq meat.”

  “You were hunting,” he realized, ignoring her quick retreat, overly aware of the cause.

  “I was.” She knelt before the fire and using her knife, cut a slice of the tender meat.

  “Mountain tarq,” he said, sniffing the air as she brought the meat to him. “Good meat if young enough. Tough if too old.” He took a bit and chewed. “Good,” he determined after swallowing. “Tell me what has happened since the attack.”

  She went over every detail, from arriving at the cavern, to the help she had received from the other women, to Charka’s refusal to do anything but lay at his side. Then she told him about the building. “The wood it is built with is not wood, but something I have never seen.”

  “I will look at it when… when I can.” His eyes started to close on the last word and she knew he needed to sleep.

  She eased him back and when his head touched the balled silks, he sighed. “Sleep,” she whispered. Rest.

  “Tomorrow,” he whispered. “Tomorrow you show me the building.” Then he was asleep.

  Areenna gazed at him for several long minutes, her emotions fluttering within her. She had not thought of what might happen should the healing not work. It was unimaginable. Without being able to stop it, tears rose. Two of them dropped to his check and trailed downward. She wiped them from his skin.

  “You will get strong,” she whispered before bending to kiss him. When she drew her mouth from his, she stood and walked to Charka. The kraal nuzzled her and she drew warmth from him.

  Her lips tingled still from the kiss, and she realized it was the first time she had kissed him. She closed her eyes, thankful he had been asleep when she had done so. Then, taking a deep breath, her emotions firmly under control, she went back to Mikaal, knelt and drew on the healing powers within her. Blind, her hands flowing over him, she concentrated the force first on his shoulder and then his thighs.

  When she stopped, she realized several hours had passed. She tried to stand, but a wave of dizziness caught her. Slowly, easily, she dropped to Mikaal’s side, curled against him and fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

  <><><>

  Enaid stood upon the parapet, her hands on the stone balustrade. Her aoutem, Iiri, pressed against her hip, the gorlon’s warmth a welcome touch. She had been standing silently for an hour, watching the northwestern skyline, which was deep and black on this moonless hour before dawn. She had ranged with her senses as far as possible, but found no sign of Areenna or Mikaal in the distance. Either they were too far away or… she cut off her thought. Her emotions swirled. All she knew was that the healing may have worked, but without sensing, without being able to know, it was hard for her.

  “Mikaal heals,” Laira said from behind.

  Turning to the girl, Enaid tried to smile. “You are so certain.”

  “I am. I sensed her earlier, just as night was settling. Areenna is strong, and Mikaal is healing.”

  “So much power you have.”

  Laira nodded. “Now, not before the Island. She… they,” Laira corrected herself. “They gave me such gifts as I could not have imagined. My foretelling, the ability I was born with, has become stronger. It is no longer random.”

  Laira’s eyes wandered past Enaid. Even without a moon, and only with stars for illumination, Tolemac spread out in a magnificent display of shadowed earth. “They come, the first of the Dark Ones. A Master rides with them. They will be at the southwestern palisades in two days. The Dark Master brings thousands of his… creatures.”

  “You have seen this?”

  “On the Island, they showed me this vision. I saw it again when I awoke a few minutes ago. I saw you here as well.”

  “And Areenna and Mikaal? I cannot sense them.”

  “She created a shield and a block against the Black Witch who tracks them.”

  “A strong block, for I could not feel it.”

  “They are safe for now,” Laira reassured her.

  “Did they give more instructions?”

  Laira shook her head. “Just to prepare for the coming of the Dark Ones. All of Nevaeh is at risk and we must stop them.”

  “Akassia arrives today. She has been called to the Island.”

  “I know. I will accompany her.”

  A silver and brown ret, Laira’s aoutem, stuck its head out from beneath her cloak.

  The High Queen of Nevaeh smiled and ran a finger over the animal’s small head. “That will be good. Akassia will need you. She is not as strong as you and Areenna. It will be a hard time for her. She was to start the period of betrothal. The marriage is a month away. But I think such ceremonies will not be so important over the coming months.”

  “She will understand the delay and will come away much stronger. She too is needed,” Laira added.

  Enaid gazed toward the mountains she could not see, and the son she could not sense. “We will all be strong. We must be to save Nevaeh.”

  CHAPTER 18

  Mikaal awoke to find his pain had subsided greatly since last night. Turning, his body stiff from laying on the stone floor, he looked at Areenna, who slept next to him.

  He gazed at her and for the first time, realized he was naked and that she had undressed him to heal and bandage him. Without disturbing her, he slid out of the sleeping silks and rose carefully. A sharp pain lanced through his thigh when he stood. Bending, he removed the bandage of tied strips of silks to look at the damage. There were a dozen long scratches and by their look, they had been deep. The skin had closed around them and only a barely visible red showed at their seams. His other thigh had just a few remaining scratches.

  Looking around, he spotted the packs from the kralets and went to the one he knew was his. He removed a leather tunic and leather pants and dressed as quickly as his sore muscles allowed. Then put on his boots to cut off the cold stone floor from his skin.

  There was a nudge on his back and he turned to find Charka standing there. He smiled, leaned against the kraal’s large head and stroked his neck. “I’m better,” he said, melding with his aoutem and sharing the warmth of their feelings.

  A low probing touched his mind. He turned to where Gaalrie perched on the stone ledge above Areenna. He smiled at the bird and walked toward the tunnel leading to the cavern exit. He went to the opening. The edge of the sun peeked out from behind a bank of gray and white clouds, showing it to be early afternoon.

  He went back inside. Had it been two days or three?

  When he walked to where Areenna lay, he saw her eyes were open. “You slept deeply.”

  “I did,” she agreed, stretching and sitting up. “How are you feeling?”

  “Stiff, sore, but better. Much better.” But as he spoke the words, he grew tired. He sat on the silks and shook his head. “I am still weak. I like this not.”

  “There is no more to do to speed your recovery. We must wait until you are ready.”

  “Spoken like a true sorceress. Nevertheless, we lose time. We must move on.”

  To do so would endanger everything. What if there is another attack? “No, we cannot risk it. Mikaal, without all your strength, without your abilities, we will not survive. I need you to heal. I need you. Not the Eight, I need you.”

  He held her eyes, saw her determination, but it was her words, not her determination that caught him so heavily. He nodded slowly. “As you wish.”

  His response twisted within her. She stared at him, her eye
s moving back and forth across his features. “There is much I wish. Perhaps one day those wishes will become reality.”

  He held her gaze. “They will, but until then…” He smiled. “I need food. I am starving again.”

  She pointed toward the cooking fire, moved her fingers in a weaving pattern, and the fire grew taller. “I found a large pot in the… building and filled it with water. It’s chilly but wet. Perhaps you might want to ah… wash yourself.” She decided not to tell him about the water she had found until she was certain nothing dangerous lived in it.

  He bent his head, sniffed, and turned to Charka. “You didn’t tell me I smelled like you.”

  Areenna laughed aloud. “Be careful of the wounds.”

  Perhaps you should wash me.

  She cocked her head to the side. One day, perhaps, but you seem capable enough now.

  His eyes narrowed. “I look forward to that day.”

  For the second time, Areenna blushed.

  Mikaal moved to the side and used the pan of water and a cloth to wash himself. When he was finished and dressed again, he returned to the fire and sat next to Areenna.

  “I’d like to see the building now,” he said.

  “You feel strong enough?”

  He smiled at her and extended his hand. “Yes.”

  They went to the ancient structure, where Mikaal inspected everything from floor to ceiling, room by room, until he finally admitted he did not know what the building was made of or who could have possibly lived there, other than the ‘Old Ones’, who had survived in the earliest days of Nevaeh.

  An hour into the inspection, he’d weakened enough to know he had to stop. They returned to the campsite and, after eating more of the tarq meat, looked over Roth’s maps, tracing the trail the High King had suggested.

  Mikaal’s finger moved along the lines of the mountains. “We take this route here,” he said, moving his finger to the eastern side. He traced forward until stopping at what appeared to be a valley. “If it is as level as my father believes, we can make up some of the time we have lost.”

  When Areenna nodded her agreement, he went on. “With luck we will find game in the area. And here,” he added moving to a point a few inches further along on the map, “is where we cross to the western side. It appears to be of lower elevation, which will make it easier, but it will still be a hard crossing.”

  “Easier than if we went across now and had to go over the mountains at their tallest spots.”

  “Yes,” he said, yawning.

  Areenna glanced at him in concern. “It’s time to stop. You need to rest and I need to work my healing. Lay on your silks, I will be there in a moment.”

  “I wish it was not so.” After rolling up the map, he went to the silks, took off his tunic and lay down. As he did, the effects of the hours he had been up and moving caught up.

  He watched Areenna kneeling by the fire, take a pot from it and pour its contents into a small cup. “What is it?”

  She reached into the pot and with two fingers pulled out a strangely shaped thing. “Farna root,” she exlpained. “It helps with the healing.”

  He made a face, remembering the times his mother had made him drink the ugly tasting herb.

  “It’s not that bad,” Areenna said, reading his face as she walked up to him. Kneeling at his side, she handed him the cup. “Sip it slowly. Do not rush it.”

  “I know.” He raised the cup, took a sip, and grimaced.

  Bending over him, Areenna put her hands on the badly injured thigh. The leather he wore was as hot as his skin. She called her power and the familiar heat rushed upward, through her chest, into her shoulders and downward through her arms to her hands. Then came the loss of sight of anything but the wounds. She held her hands lightly above the leather, barely touching it and concentrated only on healing.

  When she finished his thighs, she broke off the healing powers and sat up. She saw he had put the almost empty cup down and although he was sitting, he was asleep. Gently and carefully, she laid him back and began the healing process on his shoulder.

  <><><>

  Morning came faster than Areenna wanted, as Gaalrie woke her from a disturbing dream with a warning cry. She opened her eyes and looked around before realizing it was the dream Gaalrie had reacted to, not any danger.

  She slowed her breathing. Everything was as it had been last night. Morning light brightened the short tunnel leading to the outside. Enough light filtered in to illuminate Mikaal.

  As she studied him, his chest rose and fell smoothly. She reached out using her mind-touch and found his body relaxed. She sensed no pain. Then she remembered her dream and why she had been so disturbed. She had been reliving the ambush and attack of the wolf creatures.

  Lying there, she realized she had failed in protecting them by not finding a way to use the powers she had been given. She was responsible for what had happened to him.

  You are wrong, came Mikaal’s sharp thought, breaking into her concentration.

  Wrong? Of course I am not. If I had used my abilities, if only to shield us properly—

  —to do what?

  To stop them from reaching us. To protect us.

  You are not thinking straight. These were not spirits created by the Black Witch; they were animals, mutated animals, living things, not projections of her dark magic. She controlled their minds. Nevertheless, they bled and died at our hands. You have told me often enough that a shielding can stop magic but rarely flesh and blood.

  I should have found a way to use my abilities. I have the powers.

  Perhaps. Mikaal’s next thoughts seemed louder than words. She had shielded them from your weapon. Areenna, we did what was necessary. They came at us fast, we chose to fight, and we survived. That’s what matters, nothing else. You did not cause this. You did nothing wrong!

  “Then why do I feel like I have?” she snapped.

  He smiled at her and sat up. “Because you are Areenna, daughter of Nosaj, King of Freemorn. And you have no choice… you were born to be this way, born and taught responsibility for others.”

  “And you know this for a fact?” she challenged.

  His smile stayed in place when he said, “absolutely.”

  Before she could reply, Gaalrie screamed and dove toward the side of the cavern. A loud squeal resounded when she struck whatever she had attacked. Areenna flew from the sleeping silks, grabbing the knife that laid within reach and raced to where Gaalrie was fighting.

  Behind her, Mikaal tried to do the same but could not rise quickly as the pain ripped through his shoulder. He squinted into the hazy dimness of the cavern and saw Areenna reach Gaalrie and bend. She stood, holding a large traat by its tail. The rodent was dead and Gaalrie was off again, chasing another of the rodents.

  Rising slowly, and not bothering to put on his tunic yet, he went to where Areenna stood. He followed her gaze to the ice-packed carcass of the Tarq. “They feasted, eh?” Mikaal asked.

  “They did. I will have to hunt again.”

  While he did not like the thought of her going without him, he knew he was not yet strong enough. “We can survive on what we have. Another day and I will be ready to move,” he added as he lifted his arm and rotated it smoothly without allowing the pain to show on his face.

  “We will see about your wounds—I am aware of the pain you tried to hide,” Areenna added, “And I will hunt. We cannot afford to use up our supplies.”

  He started to argue but stopped at the look in her eyes. He laughed. “As I said, you are the daughter of a king and you have no choice in taking on the responsibility for everyone around you.”

  She shook her head and walked to the cavern’s opening. The dead traat, suspended by two fingers, hung by its tail. “But traat we shall not eat.” She paused, shifting her gaze to Mikaal. “At least not yet…”

  <><><>

  Early afternoon found Areenna outside the cavern, Gaalrie flying low above her. She had spent the morning inventorying their supp
lies and working her ability on Mikaal’s wounds, which were healing more rapidly than she had hoped. With luck, they would be able to resume their journey in the morning.

  A half hour outside the cavern and with Gaalrie scouting ahead, she climbed upward on the slope, seeking a good vantage point to hide and wait. As she climbed, she let her senses range. Then she turned a corner along the rising pathway and sensed darkness. Stopping, she knelt, closed her eyes and concentrated.

  Her eyes flew open. Below, perhaps a hundred yards away and moving along another pathway were three of the wolf-creatures. She watched them sniffing the ground, hunting for a scent. Her scent, she realized as a putrid wave of malevolence washed over her, pushed by the Black Sorceress’s mind with her desperate need to find Areenna and Mikaal.

  She called Gaalrie, who came quickly, sensing her alarm. The treygone landed on the rocks next to her and held still. Areenna watched the creatures below stop and turn. Within seconds, another half dozen of the huge deformed things joined the first three and turning, headed back.

  She knew they had picked up the scent and were heading to the cave. She rose, pulling her bow and notching an arrow. Then she stopped as she sensed something else. It was the Black Sorceress’ spirit. It had found her shielding block. It had called the four-legged creatures.

  Moving quickly, Areenna sent out a warning to Mikaal and before releasing the powers within her, calling up more of her abilities as she ran. Heat erupted, the bands of fiery energy uncoiling within her depths to spread through her like lightning. In that instant, the ‘spirit’ caught her emanations and stopped.

  Areenna froze in mid-stride. Far below, hundreds of yards ahead of the pack of vile animals was a shadowy wavering. As her power welled up, she brought forth Ilsraeth’s gift of hiding and an instant later, she disappeared.

  At almost the same moment, Mikaal’s mind touched hers. She sent the images of what she had seen to him. They are coming, she told him. Stay inside, stay within me.

  There was a second of resistance before he agreed.