by Marnie Cate
Table of Contents
Acknowledgements
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Epilogue
Afterword
Remember
Protectors of the Elemental Magic
Book I
Marnie Cate
Copyright (C) 2015 Marnie Cate
Layout Copyright (C) 2015 by Creativia
Published 2015 by Creativia
eBook design by Creativia (www.creativia.org)
Cover art by http://www.thecovercollection.com/
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author's permission.
Acknowledgements
Megan and Michelle - you pushed me to keep writing when I saw no light at the end of the tunnel and you tolerated my overthinking every little piece of the process.
(Psst little sister, I love you more than you will ever know! FROOTEEE!)
Aidan and Addy – thank you for being my A Team & reminding me of the spirit of being a child.
Jane - thank you for your insight and support.
Dame Judi Dench from a pond away, you gave me more than you could ever know.
And in honor of my grandmother whose love and guidance were with me in each page
Chapter 1
Smoke filled the skies and the heat from the flames of the burning homes was unbearable. The attack on Starten left few remaining in the town. Looking around through eyes burning from the dark smoke, I searched for anything or anyone familiar.
Fighting back my tears, I looked to the sky and cried out, “Gram, I am not strong enough!”
A blinding light surged through me and I fell to my knees. Stumbling and confused, I found myself being led to safety by Gram. She told me to hide in a crevice in one of the old oak trees that had split. Scared and shaking, I struggled to hold back my tears and not to follow my grandmother away from the safety of trees and back towards the smoke and flames of the burning houses.
Before Gram left she hugged me tightly and whispered in my ear, “Mara, my little one, always remember that you are my treasure and you must prepare to be strong when the darkness appears. This ring will be your guide when I am not here to remind you.”
Clutching the ring, I could feel cold energy releasing from the blue stone. The surrounding silver calmly pulsed small almost indistinguishable bursts of electricity like a heartbeat. The charm slowly chanted, “Go there, go there.”
But where? I thought closing my eyes and centering my thoughts on the stone. I saw the Starten Forest with deep green and lush trees. The bright full moon shone above a nest like none I had ever seen before. The large nest was made of silver twigs with a lavender glow in the center.
“I know where to go now, Gram,” I whispered.
I was awoken by the sound of Gram cooking and the smells of cinnamon pancakes and fresh brewed coffee. Sizzling sounds of bacon and the clatter of dishes being laid on the table told me it was time to get up. In Gram's world, there was no sleeping in. Pushing away the unsettling dream, I looked around my bedroom.
My little sister's bed was empty. The eight year old seemed to have a surplus of energy that even though I was only seventeen years old I couldn't keep up with her some days. Meg was full of ideas and dreams that I had forgotten many years ago.
Quickly dressing I pulled my long raven hair into a ponytail. The wavy curls that plagued me left me no choice most days. I should just cut it all off. Shuddering at my thought, I remembered the short haircut I gave myself when I was twelve and pushed that idea away.
My face looked even more ghost white than normal and the dark circles around my eyes would worry my grandmother. The nightmares that had seemed to leave me had returned. A full night's sleep seemed like a distant dream. Quickly dusting my face with powder and lining my hazel eyes with dark purple, I looked in the mirror.
“Add some dark red lipstick and you can look like a vampire from those old movies Gram loves,” I said aloud, as I stared at my reflection. With a long sigh, I put on a fake smile, glossed my lips with cherry lip-gloss and went down the ladder towards my family.
As I climbed down the ladder of the loft bedroom I shared with Meg, I stopped to look at each rung. The ladder was aged and each rung had a different name carved on it. On the sixth rung, I stopped and ran my fingers over the letters. Slowly tracing the name, I tried to remember her. How could I barely remember this person – my mother?
“Today is not the day to think of the past,” I said, scolding myself and finished the climb down to the warmth of the kitchen and my family.
My grandmother's home…my home was a large spacious house. When you entered the house, you immediately felt a warm inviting feeling. A dark wooden bench with silver hooks above it held our jackets and bags and tucked underneath was a line of shoes. The white walls of a large living room with comfortable furniture in a variety of bright colors welcomed you to sit and relax. You could sit on either one of the large purple or lime green overstuffed couches that seemed to wrap you in a big fluffy embrace as you sunk into them or on one of my favorite overstuffed chairs. Depending on my mood, I could choose to snuggle up on either a yellow, an aqua or a red chair. The colors of the house were bright and cheery but not overwhelming. The living room was divided by a half wall that held a large spacious kitchen where Gram could usually be found. The loft bedroom I shared with my sister nestled above the warmth of the kitchen and over the only closed area of the house that held several bedrooms. The high half-wall made my bedroom private but not closed in.
Gram greeted me with a kiss on the cheek and handed me my plate filled with fresh fruit, fluffy pancakes and two slices of thick crispy bacon.
“Good morning, Gram,” I said, forcing myself to be cheery, “this looks great.”
She smiled and went back to stirring the pot of berries she was slowly cooking.
I took my seat by my sister and took a long sip of the tea that
had been waiting for me. It was the perfect temperature. But for some reason even the delicious breakfast and giggles of Meg could not break the gloomy mood I was in.
“Can I have your pancakes, Mar?” Meg whispered quietly, while eyeing our grandmother. “Gram only made me a tiny stack and they are sooooo good!”
Meg's big green eyes surrounded by thick black lashes pleading were hard to resist. “Just one,” I said, sliding it onto her plate and tapped her on the nose with my finger.
“What about the bacon?” Meg asked, with a sly smile. “Mar ahhhh…”
Using the nickname she had given me usually was the key to her getting her way with me. Marina Addisyn Stone was the name I was given and nicknames from childhood friends came and went. I had been called Arina, Mar and even Addy by them. Then along came Meg and her inability to pronounce Marina. Her name for me became the name I loved the most – Mara.
“You may be pushing it, kid,” I laughed. At the sink, Gram quietly chuckled. Then she turned and winked a silent blessing to continue.
Once Meg ate the last bite of her breakfast and helped clear my plate, she gave her standard thumbs up confirming the meal was delicious. I laughed and began to clear the table.
“Gram, you didn't eat anything,” I said, as I placed the dishes in the sink and began to clean them. “You need to keep your strength up to keep up with Meg.”
“I know, love,” she said, as she took the plate I was washing and put it back in the sink.
I looked over at my sister who had moved to a small game table in the living room. The stuffed animals she had lined up were getting a lecture of the importance of eating breakfast. The smell of cinnamon and lavender filled my nose as Gram drew me into her arms and tightly hugged me.
“She has been asking me more questions about her lately. I think telling Meg that she will be back soon has lost any truth after five years. I thought she wouldn't remember her after a while. She was so young when she disappeared…” Gram said, with a long sigh as she returned to washing dishes.
“Gram, do you think we will ever see her again? I don't understand how she could just disappear and no one knows where she went.” I whispered. Gram's eyes grew dark as they always did when I asked too much about her and she began washing the dishes. She handed me a clean dish and a kitchen towel. This signaled the conversation was over and there would be no point in pressing.
Finishing drying the dishes, I neatly put each item in their place in the cupboards. Dishes in bright shades of red, orange, yellow, green and blue made a rainbow of color. None of them matched but still seemed to be part of a perfect set.
“I'm going to meet, Cole. He is going to teach me how to catch trout today,” I said, kissing Gram on the cheek and tousling Meg's light brown locks. The summer had faded her hair so much I teased that she would soon turn into Cinderella.
Hunting for food had never been necessary. However, something made me feel even more like I should be prepared for anything in life. We always had plenty of food and never went without anything we needed. Still, painting pictures of the skyline or humming words to a new song I wrote seemed fanciful to me now and did not seem to be the best use of my time.
Bounding out the door, I carried the satchel I had prepared last night that was filled with the day's necessities.
I walked down the paved road in front of my house that would eventually lead to the center of town. After less than a mile and having passed several homes, I reached my destination. At the end of the cobblestone walkway sitting on the porch of a pale yellow house, Cole was bouncing a ball and pacing. Cole Oliver Sands always took my breath away when I saw him. His dark black hair had grown long over the summer covering his deep blue eyes that were framed by thick black lashes.
“Took you long enough! I have been waiting all morning!” Cole chided. “I thought I might grow old and die waiting for you to show up.”
Cole's sense of urgency was not new to me. He was always on the go and never liked to stay in one place too long. But I knew a secret. Cole could always be inspired to relax if given delicious food.
“I am not late.” I said, handing him the bag I had packed. “You are just impatient. I was getting the things you wanted together including the peanut butter and jam sandwiches you insisted were necessary. I still question that necessity. Who ever heard of trout swarming for PB&J sandwiches?” I replied, with a smirk and my signature eyebrow lift.
He could never pretend to be irritated at me for long. Laughing, he pulled one of the sandwiches out of the bag and began to devour it.
“Your Gram's jam is the best in the town. What is her secret?” he greedily proclaimed.
“Your guess is as good as mine. She is very secretive with her recipe. The only thing I know for sure is she uses fresh berries,” I coyly smiled.
Of course, I knew the recipe well. When I was nine, my grandmother had taught me that mashing ripe berries with lemon juice and brown sugar made the best jam. Each jar was an individual batch that she made with love.
Her homemade peanut butter had a pinch of cinnamon and cayenne pepper that tasted amazing with the jam. Adding these flavors with the sweet wheat bread that was made yesterday morning, the sandwich would make it hard for anyone to not be happy.
“I should thank you properly for your kindness,” Cole said, popping the last bite into his mouth. He then grabbed my hand and pulled me to him. His hand felt warm, strong and even a bit sticky from the sandwich. But not even that could change the way my heart felt when I was with him. Everything seemed right. He softly kissed me and pulled me into his arms. He was strong but not overly muscular. His hug seemed to soften the dark feelings I felt and the warmth of the kiss drowned out the negative feelings that were haunting me.
“OK, let's go,” he murmured, as he broke away from me. Sighing I composed myself and we began our adventure.
Chapter 2
The river we walked along was purple with blue froth. Gold and silver butterflies jumped as they swam upstream. A flock of green squirrels flew overhead. The metallic green fur glimmered and reflections bounced off the water.
Gram had told us the stories that had been passed on to her from her grandparents about the times before the world had changed. Butterflies flew in the air. They did not swim in streams. The only flying that squirrels did was glide from tree to tree and fishing was with a pole with string attached. The idea of having to put a worm on a hook to catch trout gave me the shivers.
Watching the butterflies, I remembered a story of Three Billy Goats Gruff using the gold and silver powder from butterfly wings to put the troll to sleep and cross the bridge. One day I found a book at Thompson's Used Book and Sauerkraut Store that contained all the stories Gram had told me at bedtime but the stories were slightly different. There was not a butterfly sleeping powder that helped the goats but instead an older stronger goat that pushed the troll into the water.
When questioned, Gram patted my hand and said, “My stories are more memorable.”
“Are we close yet?” I whispered, shaking off my daydream.
Cole nodded and placed one finger on his mouth to remind me not to speak. In the brush ahead, I saw bright colorful tails swaying back and forth. Tugging Cole's hand, I pointed. He nodded and grabbed the net gun from his bag.
As they got closer, he motioned for me to stay at this spot and handed me an old-fashioned net on a stick. I raised my hands to question this.
“Catch any that get away,” he whispered, with a smirk and a wink.
Cole picked up a rock from the stream and threw it at the bush. The trout began scrambling out from under the brush towards him and he launched the net. Flying through the air, the massive silver net landed and trapped six adult trout. They were snapping their teeth and slamming their black and pink bodies against their captor.
Several small gray baby trout ran towards the area where I waited. When they got closer, I lowered the net and covered them. Several were missed and I shoved them under the net with my b
oot.
The net confused them and they began circling. “Cole! What do I do now?”
Laughing Cole came over with his net over his shoulder. It now only held two large trout. He had released the others and they could be seen scrambling into the brush. They were probably going deep into the holes they lived while waiting for the danger to go away.
The trout Cole carried were each over a foot long and were no longer moving. As he walked, he threw a trail of crumbs from his sandwich behind him.
When he was about ten feet from me, he said, “Lift the net now. The little ones need to go back to their nest to grow.”
I lifted the net and watched the silver babies scamper back to their home stopping along the way to gobble the crumbs Cole had dropped.
“This should be enough to feed us for months,” Cole said and handed me the net. The net was at least thirty pounds.
“Shouldn't I have watched you decide which adults to let go and how to…you know,” I said, uncomfortable with the thought that the trout were living just minutes before.
“You know this is crazy,” he said, grabbing my hand and again pulling me close. “You won't ever be without me. There is no need for you to have to learn this. I promise I will always take care of you.”
He leaned in and slowly kissed me. Quickly, the gentle kiss became harder and more demanding. Wanting to be consumed in this feeling, I kissed him back. I slowly ran my free hand up and down his back.
“We should head back,” he said, abruptly pulling away and taking the net from me. “You know how your grandmother worries.”
He brushed his lips against my cheek as he whispered, “We wouldn't want her to think I am not a gentleman.”
Cole always considered my grandmother's feelings. This was one of the things that made me love him. But sometimes I just wanted to get lost in the moment. For just that moment, I felt all fear and doubt fade away.
As we walked back hand in hand to deliver our catch to Gram, I suddenly felt a lingering sense of dread. Forever promises never seemed true. The feeling did not make sense to me. One minute I felt forever was possible and wanted to be swept up in the feeling but then there was always a nagging doubt that anything I loved would be lost.