The Legends of Regia Box Set: The Complete Series. Books 1-7

by Tenaya Jayne

  An invisible force hit him in the chest, lifting him off his feet and throwing him backward. The air was knocked from his lungs as he slammed to the ground. Dazed, he looked up through the trees at the sky. A spiral of dark grey smoke coiled over him like a snake and plunged straight into his chest. White sparks danced and snapped inside his eyes. The snake-thing slithered deep, winding around and around under his skin. Convulsions jerked his muscles in a full seizure.

  The snake continued to move after he lost consciousness, moving up through his skull, exploring the folds of his brain. It moved around the base of his neck just above the collarbone, like a choker made of a wisp of grey smoke. The second it closed the circle around his neck, a tremor rushed through his whole body. His bright future went out like a candle in a storm.

  Hours slipped away as the light shifted over Alex and left. As the evening began darkening the sky, cold mist crept through the shadows of trees, just above the ground, and shrouded him. The screeching of a night bird woke him suddenly in a rush of adrenaline. He sat up, freezing, weirdly sore, and unable to open his eyes. He touched his eyelids with his fingertips. They were sealed shut. The gunk gluing his eyelids together felt like a hard line of wax to the touch. Bracing himself, he pulled at it. It came loose, lightly tugging his eyelids before letting go.

  The second he opened his eyes, Alex cried out in pain and fear. His pupils constricted into tiny pinpoints and then swiftly blossomed open in full dilation. He clamped his eyelids shut and rubbed them. His eyes felt flooded. Cold filled his irises like ice water pouring into a bowl up to the rim. Shivers rose aggressively over his skin.

  Trying to breathe slowly, he opened his eyes again. His sight was changed, but he was too scared to acknowledge it. But it wasn’t just his eyes, there was something wrong with all of him. He touched his neck, slowly tracing the cold line just above his collarbone. What had happened to him? His heart pulsed harsh and heavy.

  Movement and a faint grey light through the trees ahead of him, had Alex jumping to his feet. He reached for his hatchet, only to find the loop empty. Then he remembered the buck. He’d hit it with an arrow, chased it, thrown his hatchet…and then? There was nothing beyond that. He focused on the apparition in the distance, defenseless. It moved toward him.

  His new sight sliced through the shadows and focused on the buck as it came closer. For a moment, his mind ardently refused to accept what he clearly saw. It walked slow and steady, straight at him. It was the same animal, there was no denying it. But it was no longer flesh, only the spirit approached Alex, transparent grey, and iridescent in the moonlight.

  Alex couldn’t move, frozen in wonder. The buck stopped ten feet in front of him, holding his gaze. He lifted his hand and took a step forward. Could he actually touch it? Was there anything to touch? The buck looked at his hand, its ghostly eyes widening. Its shape changed, rushed at him like a stream of smoke in the wind. Before he could do anything or even cry out in alarm, the spirit went straight into his outstretched hand, sucked in as though his palm was a vacuum.

  Alex choked as it charged through him. Oh, the power! It crashed through every inch, filling him up in a rush that was both ecstasy and pain. The buck’s spirit vibrated through his extremities and then shrank into the size of a fist and burned a mark on the right side of his chest before pushing out of him. A tendril of grey swirled before his eyes, and then disintegrated into the air, losing all shape.

  He looked down at the mark the spirit left on his skin and touched it gingerly. He winced, it was indeed a burn. The blackened skin was rough like a scab and twisted in the shape of the buck’s antlers. He closed his eyes tightly. Wake up. Please, please let this be a dream.

  The screech of the night bird jolted him again, and he opened his eyes. If this was real…no, he wouldn’t allow himself to think that for even one second. He was dreaming, and he would wake. Holding desperately to that thought, Alex pushed the fear down.

  He turned in a circle, his sight probing the darkness as easily as if it were midday. He glanced up at the night sky, but it was no help. He knew what direction he faced in the day, but he couldn’t find direction in the stars. Again he forced the fear down as it slithered and whispered behind him. It was a dream, and therefore, it made no difference that he was lost.

  He contemplated. He could sit down right where he was and wait for the dawn to lead him home. Instead, he thought of the buck. Looking down, he saw the hoof prints on the ground and began following them. If he found the carcass, he’d find his hatchet. Then he wouldn’t be defenseless.

  As he walked, every muscle ached, but the pain was only the backdrop. Over the strange soreness was an even stranger sensation, deep inside, like metal and glass and cloud. Alex didn’t feel real anymore. He didn’t feel human. I just ate something bad before bed. I’m dreaming.

  He rubbed his hands together. Buzzing hummed deep in his palms. He looked down at them. Nothing new to see there, but the pull… His hands were channels, open doors, hungry portals. He curled them into fists and kept walking.

  He had the feeling that he was walking even further away from home, but he couldn’t be sure. The stars, the forest, and the darkness itself, embraced and claimed him as its own. He felt a deep internal harmony with the night, as if he was made of it. The moon moved over his head as time and distance lost shape and meaning. He just walked, absentmindedly touching the cold line on his neck. What was it? Did it mean something? His heart trembled in a way it hadn’t since he was a small child.

  Tree shadows danced back and forth with the light of a fire ahead of him, and muttering filled his ears. He slowed down, sneaking through the dark toward the fire. Anyone this deep in the forest in the dead of night couldn’t possibly be savory company. He peeked around the side of a large trunk.

  “I know you’re there,” the woman said blandly.

  She had her back to him, standing between him and the fire. The blazing light behind her turned her into little more than a silhouette.

  “Show yourself now, or I’ll kill you.”

  Not that he feared her threat, but since his presence was already known, Alex stepped out from behind the tree as she turned to face him. Her eyes reflected at him like an animal’s as their gazes locked. She was curvy and tall, a smidgen taller than his six two, with a pixie-like face poking out from under a long mess of dark red curls and braids. This was the real witch. He was certain, but she was far from the hag he’d imagined. She was strangely beautiful and not at all old. A clear stone hung on a chain around her neck. It flickered white light into his eyes. He stepped back, raising one of his hands to shield his gaze from the painful brightness.

  “You’re the witch.”

  “True enough,” she said jovially, smiling at him. “Who…or what are you?”

  The light from her necklace dimmed down and he lowered his hand. “I—”

  She cut him off, rushing at him and grabbing his hand. “Oh, no!” she screeched.

  He tried to recoil, but her hands held fast around his wrist. “Let me go!”

  “Shut up and hold still!” she ordered.

  He did, but he wasn’t sure why. She lifted both of his hands and touched her fingers to his palms. She jerked her hands away from his quickly, but she didn’t back up. She traced one fingertip on the cold line on his neck, and then put her hands on both sides of his face. Her sequin-like eyes pushed hard on his. Last, she pulled the side of his loose collar and eyed the burn mark on his chest. He would never have stood still for this inspection, or let a witch touch him at all, but he was too interested in gaining answers about his physical state.

  Her eyes flared, and her cheeks reddened as she took a step back. She put one hand to her head as though she had a headache and sighed loudly. “I’m so sorry,” she said.

  “You did this to me!” he accused. “Didn’t you?”

  She walked to the side of the fire and sat down on a stump. “I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry. I’ve just ruined your whole life I’m afrai
d… What’s your name?”

  He didn’t want to give her his name. When he didn’t answer, she sighed again as though she might cry.

  “My name’s Maggie.” She held up the clear stone that hung around her neck. “See?” she pointed at the center. A crack ran down the length of the stone. “The spell broke the stone. It was meant to be locked inside, but it rushed out and through the trees. I figured it would run itself out and fade into nothing… What were you doing so far out from the village?”

  “Hunting.” The word ground out from his clenched teeth. His heart had never beat so hard before. “What have you done to me? You have to fix it!”

  Maggie held her hands out in defeat and shook her head. “It’s been inside you too long. I can’t fix it. It’s settled…merged with you. It cannot be undone…I’m afraid you can’t go home.”

  “No! I have to go home.”

  “They will kill you. You’re a magic user now.”

  “I won’t use it. Not ever. I’ll hide it. No one will know.” His voice rose frantically.

  “Oh really?” she scoffed. “I assume you haven’t looked at yourself.”

  “What? The mark on my chest? I can make up a story for that.”

  She shook her head, pity in her eyes. “What color are your eyes?”

  “Huh?”

  “Your eyes. What color are they?”

  “Blue.”

  “Blue like what? The sky? The water?”

  “Dark blue, like the ocean. Can you not see in this light?” he demanded.

  “I see everything, boy. What about your hair? What color is that?”

  “Brown.”

  She laughed darkly and shook her head. “You won’t be able to hide your magic, or convince anyone. I doubt anyone you know would even recognize you now. And if they did, you’d be burning at the stake before you could blink.”

  Alex ran his hands through his hair and pulled out a few strands. His mouth dropped open as he held the hair up to the fire light. He couldn’t exhale the breath he was holding. The hair was so blond it was almost white. He pulled out some more. Still blond. Frantically he pulled out more.

  “I think it’s a nice color myself,” Maggie’s voice was mildly amused. “But bald is a way to go, too. I guess. Your head will get cold.”

  “What color are my eyes?” He panicked.

  She gave him a sad smile. “Blue.”

  He heaved a sigh of relief.

  “Ice blue,” she amended. “Like the color of moonlight on snow… Really beautiful, though. I’m a little jealous.”

  He began to shake. “What am I to do? Is there a chance it will fade? Will I go back to normal?”

  “I can’t be totally sure, but I highly doubt it. That spell was never meant for a human.”

  “What was it? What has it done to me?”

  “It will take time to know the extent of your abilities. We’ll have to test them, but given that you’ve already pulled a spirit into yourself, I can at least be sure the spell was what I intended, so—“

  “How do you know I pulled a spirit into myself?” He cut her off.

  “The mark on your chest could mean nothing else.”

  His shaking grew more violent. “What am I? What kind of magic do I have?”

  Her look of pity deepened. “You’re a Necromancer.”

  He shook his head in an attempt at denial. “No.” His voice was barely a whisper.

  Maggie got up, strode over to him, and grabbed him by the hand. “Come here. Sit down before you fall over.” She towed him to the stump she’d been sitting on. “Stay there, I’ll be right back.”

  She disappeared into the shadows. In a moment she was back, carrying a tankard. She thrust it into his hands. “Drink that.”

  “What is it?”

  “Ale.”

  He eyed it suspiciously for a moment, then deciding he didn’t give a damn if it was poisoned, began to drink. He drank it all and handed the tankard back to Maggie. The alcohol hit his blood stream quickly, and his head began to spin.

  “What’s your name?” she asked again.

  “Alex.” His eyelids drooped. “I’m a blacksmith. I…” His lungs grew heavy. “I’m about to be married. I built a house for my bride.”

  She pursed her lips but didn’t contradict him. He was sloshed as she hoped he would be. She lifted his muscular arm and pulled it across her shoulders, hefting him to his feet. “Come on. You sleep it off. When you wake up, we’ll deal with this.”

  He staggered and leaned on her as she took him into her house. He dropped onto her bed. Grunting, she lifted his feet up off the floor. She rolled her eyes as he let out a loud snore. Maggie shook her head in disbelief at the turn her life had just taken. She had wished, just that afternoon, that she wasn’t so alone. It was the first wish to come true for her.

  He snored again, making her think she might already regret the company.

  Poor thing, she thought. He’s lost everything.

  She sighed, realizing the amount of work she now needed to do to protect him. It was going to be a long night. She took the scissors from her shelf and cut off one small strand of his white blonde hair before leaving him alone in her house.

  Maggie tucked the hair safely in her pocket as she approached the fire. She needed energy. Firelight danced across her face as she closed her eyes, whispering words of focus and power. Her hands warmed. She placed her palms on her head as they surged the spell out. The magic absorbing inside her skull, filling her with a jittery restlessness.

  “Okay,” she said to herself. “I need to make blood. Lots of blood.”

  She retrieved her cauldron from the side of the house, waddling, grunting and cursing under the weight of the pot, taking it to the fire and hanging it above the flames. She sighed again and chewed her bottom lip in contemplation.

  “Are you really going to do this?” she asked herself. “Hell of a lot of work, you know…” Her thoughts circled. “He’s very fine. Not that he’s for me. I’m too old for him. I’m probably the same age as his mother. Well, that doesn’t change the fact he’s nicely made. It would be a shame for him to die. He’ll steal someone’s heart… He said he was about to be married. Poor girl, a widow before she’s a bride… All right, all right. I just hope he appreciates this someday. Alex.” She said his name again so she wouldn’t forget it.

  Maggie used her strongest wand, the one carved of human bone, to fill the cauldron. The liquid bubbled as she put his hair in and turned a rust color. It needed an hour to simmer.

  She rubbed her stone necklace until it illuminated her path into the darkness, re-tracing Alex’s steps that led him to her. She found the dead stag. Her tears choked her momentarily. She’d seen him before from a distance. Admired his majesty, but she hadn’t ever spoken to him. She was glad now. The task she’d set for herself would be unbearable if she also faced the grief of losing a friend. Alex didn’t know any better, she soothed herself. She would teach him…No. She would advise, but it was the magic inside him that would teach him the real price of taking life. All too soon, he would know the weight of death, perhaps better than any other human that had ever lived.

  She looked up through the tree branches into the steady golden eyes of White Owl. He turned his head to the side and hooted in question at her.

  “Hello, Owl. Please, can you go tell Bear I need him?”

  Owl puffed his feathers in annoyance but took flight in compliance. In five minutes, Owl returned, looking surly. Bear lumbered through the shadows toward her.

  “Thank you for coming,” Maggie said, scratching between his eyes. “I need a favor.”

  His nostrils flared, and he looked at the dead stag. He scowled and snorted out a puff of steam.

  “I know. It’s bad. I need to stage a human death. You’ll play the killer.”

  A low rumble of laughter rolled in Bear’s throat. Is that so? His thoughts came into her mind. Why?

  “I have to protect the young man who shot the stag.”
>
  Owl hooted loudly in indignation.

  Maggie held up her hands. “I know. I know. But trust me. He’s worth saving. He’s just a dumb human, or he was. He’s something different now. Something more. Help me with this, and you shall see the elemental monster he will become. I have no doubt it will be something worth witnessing.”

  I’ll help you. Bear said. I’m not sorry to see the stag gone. He was so full of himself he should have been a peacock.

  Thank you, Bear. Just mess the place up a bit. Leave scratch marks on the trees and ground so the humans can’t miss them. Drag that branch across the ground as though it’s a body, that way,” she pointed in the opposite direction of her house. “I’ve got some fake blood brewing. I’m going to bring it back here and splash it about.”

  Bear snorted again and began doing as she asked. It only took him a few minutes, then he lumbered away.

  “Thank you,” she said to his retreating backside.

  Are you sure you know what you’re doing? Owl asked.

  Maggie laughed. “I never know what I’m doing. If I did, there wouldn’t be a magically altered man snoring in my bed.” She glanced up at Owl. “Do you think the humans will be convinced?”

  Oh, sure. Dim creatures, those things.

  She sighed, feeling the energy spell begin to fade. She needed to wrap this up before she became so sleepy she made a mistake that accidently led the humans right to her instead of away.

  The blood was ready when she went back for it. She splashed it on the trees and poured it on the ground, and trailed it over the drag marks Bear made. Owl stayed, watching her complete her task. He remained silent until she was finished.

  Bad idea, this. He probably won’t live long anyway.

  “I don’t care how long he lives. I’m so lonely.”

  You have us, the creatures of the forest, for company. He was giving her attitude. Are we not enough for you?

  “You’re good company,” she said wearily. “But it’s not the same. I’m not human, but I look like one…You try being the last of your race, then you can scold me for needing someone.”