The Guardians of the Forest: Book One

by Kelly Napoli

  ***

  Kiethara was floating in the black, her thoughts slowly leaking out of her mind, drifting away. The sensation was horribly familiar.

  The voice sighed.

  That one noise brought everything back to her. They came back so fast; her mind—if possible—seemed to stumble as it tried to handle the immense weight suddenly thrust upon it. As soon as everything was settled, she could feel her limbs—but she couldn’t use them. That thought bothered her.

  Good, the voice said. Something bothers you at last! It only took days of horrific events, a nightmare or two, and now you can’t use your body. I’d be worried, too!

  Your sarcasm isn’t necessary, Kiethara snapped back. With a jolt, she realized that was the first time she had ever directly talked to the voice.

  Wasn’t a disembodied voice in your head the first sign that you were mentally unsound?

  You’re not crazy, the voice snapped. Trust me.

  For some reason, she believed the voice. That bothered her.

  Do you want me to go away? The voice asked quietly.

  No! Kiethara shouted in her head, alarmed that she may have actually offended the voice. She didn’t want that. Whether she was crazy or not, she didn’t want to be alone. Here in the blackness, the only thing that kept her from drifting away permanently was the voice.

  Good, the voice said, getting back some of its usual energy and hard tone. Now try waking up. Again.

  Why? Kiethara asked. She knew something unpleasant waited beyond the black veil.

  I’m not going to be here much longer…trust me. Oh, I don’t know how you’re going to get out of this mess, but it would be much better if you were conscious for it. The disasters you get yourself into…

  But, Kiethara protested. Why? What are you talking about?

  You’re leaving the forest, the voice informed her. I can’t talk to you once you leave the forest.

  I’m leaving the forest?! Kiethara screamed in her head. Never, ever, had she left the forest. She hadn’t even wandered far from the center!

  No, Kiethara, this is just a joke, the voice snapped sarcastically. So, what are you up to today?

  Stop joking around! Kiethara snapped back, annoyed.

  Then take me seriously and stop asking questions! You have to—

  The voice suddenly cut off, as though it had choked. The following silence was eerie and unnerving as Kiethara held her breath, waiting for the voice to speak again. Waiting turned to praying, but each second only brought with it a deeper silence. Seconds turned into minutes, but soon, the concept of time was lost to her completely.

  Gradually, her thoughts became clearer. Her body was jostled once, then again. Her breathing was slow and steady, but her body ached.

  She regained consciousness without any memory of the previous internal exchange.

  The smell was the first thing she registered. It was very foul, and very strong. She had no name for it. Spending her entire life surrounded by flowers did not give her many foul smells to compare it with.

  Next, the sensation of touch registered. Her body was lying in an awkward position on an uneven surface, the combination bringing aches and pains with every jostle. Her wrists and ankles were bound tightly and she was gagged. Again, she was jostled by some unknown force.

  It wasn’t quiet around her. Somewhere near her there was the sound of even breathing, although it was barely heard with the sound of metal clinking together, horse hooves clopping against the ground, and wood creaking against the sudden shifts in gravity and weight.

  Kiethara felt her stomach sicken as four dirty faces popped into her mind. She opened her eyes.

  She was lying in a covered wagon. The filthy white sheet caused the sunlight from above to filter into the wagon grimly, giving it a musty look. With a groan, she twisted her head to the side.

  One of the four men was sitting across from her. It was the youngest one, the one whose emotions flickered clearly through his dark, dark green eyes. The accursed necklace hung around his neck—her eyes were immediately drawn to it; it was as though she could sense it with her whole body. She felt strangely empty at the moment, as though everything she had ever had inside her had been drained.

  The young man was staring at her in alarm. One hand reached up to the black jewel that dangled from his neck, as if to reassure himself that it was still there, while his other hang tightened around the club that lay in his lap.

  Kiethara lifted her head further. She was lying on top of a mixture of dirty blankets and brown, lumpy sacks. From the way they were digging into her side, she had a strong theory that they were potatoes.

  Kiethara rolled forward to pull herself up, causing the young man in front of her to cry out in alarm. The wagon abruptly stopped, three voices shouting simultaneously in their unfamiliar language. Two of the voices had been from the front, the other from behind. Kiethara swayed in despair.

  As the sound of scuttling came from beyond the wagon covering, Kiethara managed to finally sit up, with much support from sacks around her. Suddenly, three faces were peering in from the back of the wagon as the young man in front of her raised himself up as much as he could in the confined space. Four pairs of suspicious eyes watched her intensely. Somewhere from the front, a horse snorted.

  But she ignored them all, choosing to close her eyes and lean her head back against the covering. It was terrifying how much energy that simple change of position had cost her. She wanted to drift off again, to sleep, but for some reason, she knew that was a bad idea. Not now, when her life was in the worst danger it had ever been in.

  The leader made her jump by barking something at the man in front of her. Suddenly the young man reached down towards her. Before she could defend herself in any way his hand was in her mouth, pulling out the gag. She coughed and spluttered, relishing the fact that she could once again breathe freely.

  “What’s your name?” the leader asked in his thick accent.

  Instead of answering, she stuck her chin out arrogantly. Why in the world would she answer to him?

  That was a mistake.

  The man’s eyes narrowed. He reached his long, tanned arm into the wagon, leaning towards her, and smacked her.

  “What’s your name?” the man asked again, grabbing her chin with his rough fingers and forcing her to turn towards him. Not wanting to meet his gaze, she turned her eyes down. Her stomach dropped as she realized she didn’t have her vine belt on her. It was still hanging in the tree next to her hammock, as it always did when she went to sleep. She was devoid of every weapon.

  “Kiethara,” she answered in a cold tone.

  “So you can talk,” the man said. “Are you the guardian of the forest?”

  “Yes,” she replied through her teeth. Anger—white hot anger—boiled inside her, threatening to explode. Being at the mercy of the scum in front of her was unbearable. As far as she could tell, he couldn’t even use magic!

  But neither could she, at the moment. The second she had gotten angry, she had expected to feel the warm glow of her crystals from behind her. But nothing happened. It felt strange that her body wasn’t having its normal reactions; for right now, she wanted nothing more than her hands to burst into flames.

  The man smiled. “Your legend is well known. By many people.”

  “Why are you doing this?” Kiethara asked bluntly.

  “As I say, your legend is well known. By powerful and wealthy people, yes? I get good price for you!”

  The other two men outside the wagon smiled broadly at his statement. Yet, from the corner of her eye, she saw that the youngest member of the group did not smile at all. His eye stayed remote as ever.

  Kiethara did not smile either. She could think of only one person who would pay the highest price.

  Gandador.

  If he got his hands on her in this state…

  Or if he got possession of that jewel…

  “Ah, do not be scared, sweets,” the man purred. “I take good care
of you, no?”

  The men behind him laughed. Kiethara gritted her teeth. The young man next to her remained silent.

  “Let’s start moving again, yes?” the leader asked. The men automatically composed themselves and returned to their posts.

  The nightmare marched on.