The SoulNecklace Stories

by R. L. Stedman

  I stood too, and went to pick up my still-sleepy child. Spontaneously I kissed the old man’s cheek. “Thank you.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Thanks, Princess?”

  “For all you have done. I’m sorry. It sounds trite.”

  “No.” He looked suddenly younger. “No. Not trite at all.”

  Then he was gone. I did not see him again.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Ever After

  Some months later, I walked on the ramparts with Evie.

  Evie, every day you seemed to change. The resemblance to your father caught my breath: the way you bunched your fists when angry or your hesitant, radiant smile. Sometimes, this reminder of what I did not have deepened my feeling of loneliness, but mostly it was a comfort. If I could not have the father, at least I had you.

  I took up my journal. I recorded all that Will had told me: tales of his childhood, his upbringing. I wrote of his travels, the things he had seen, and interwove them with my own stories. I did this so you might understand, a little, where you had come from, and why your father and I had seized the time we had.

  I do not remember any dreams from this time. Probably because, by the time I finally fell asleep, I slept like one dead. And although when I was with you I felt happy, there were sorrows too: the ferryman was ailing. This was of great concern to my father, and there were many urgent meetings between him and the barons. I think no one had considered what the ferryman had actually done, until it looked like he could do no more.

  But far worse for me was Nurse. Every day she grew a little older, a little frailer, and her mind wandered. Sometimes she called me Rosa; occasionally she used other names. Once, she addressed me as Adianna. How many of us had she cared for? Like the ferryman, Nurse had served the kingdom, keeping the heirs to the necklace safe. What had it been like for her, seeing one face after another, and knowing what would happen to each in turn?

  Reg and Gregor, the tower guards, visited frequently. I asked them if they knew how old my nurse was.

  “Never thought to ask,” Greg said. “Ain’t never had the courage. She’s just always been there.”

  “Older than us,” Reg added.

  “Aye,” Greg looked sad. “We’ll miss her when she goes.”

  I wondered how they seemed so unaffected when the ferryman and Nurse looked about to pass away with the wind. Probably it was something to do with the necklace, now hanging innocently on the wall of my new solar. They had told me once that they remembered it when it was new, and I think they were bound to its powers. Sometimes, when passing the open door, I caught a flash of red fire. The necklace still had power, I could feel it.

  Rosa was changing too, sinking slowly and gracefully into middle age. She put on weight, gained color in her cheeks. Frequently she passed unnoticed about the castle: just another old lady.

  She didn’t mind the lack of attention. “I’ve only ever wanted to be ordinary.”

  “You? Ordinary?”

  “Extremely ordinary,” she said firmly.

  * * *

  It was late afternoon in summer. Evie lay asleep in her crib and Rosa and I sat side by side next to Nurse’s bed. It wouldn’t be long now, Mother said. It felt sad, but strangely peaceful. The ferryman, too, was being cared for; father and brothers were by his bed.

  I sniffed. I will not cry. “The ferryman told me something. He said his replacement was coming.”

  “Well,” she said, after a pause. “Perhaps you should keep an eye on the straits then. In case you need to recognize him.”

  And that is why I’m here, darling, in this hut with you. Oh, we’re not alone; my father and Rosa would never allow that. A bevy of guards are camped just out of view. Out of eyeshot, but they can hear me if I call. We’re waiting here, you and I, waiting for something, or for someone.

  Just as I write this, your eyes flicker into awareness, as though you understand me. Evie, you have the most beautiful smile. It reminds me of your father.

  * * *

  My pen splutters. I leap to my feet. From the far side of the strait, I hear someone calling my name. I know that voice!

  Will!

  It seems you knew he was here before I did. Was it the star inside you that told you? Or are you just your father’s daughter; deeply aware of the world. You have met him now, Evie. What do you think?

  When I saw Will waving at me, I felt such joy. No more trips, no more chasing after magic or evil. Just the two of us, and you. You shine softly: as though you’re happy. You should be happy, because now you have both your mother and father beside you.

  I’ve never seen Rosa so excited. Who would have thought it – the Guardian, living in a humble hut beside the sea? Well, the ferryman’s hut is plain, I grant you, but it’s serviceable enough. And Rosa is cheerful, and so is N’Tombe, who now guards the ferry crossing, and really, that is all that matters. The kingdom has its protectors in place. And, as a bonus, when you grow older you’ll have a tutor, provided our ferrywoman can spare the time. Ah, you pout your lip. You don’t need to; tutors teach you wonderful things. I promise.

  You have many things to learn; the world is indeed wide. Ah, my daughter, all too soon you’ll discover that some folk can never have enough. They always want more: power, money, fame.

  I think this will be the last entry, my darling. From now on, I will be looking forward, not back. Of one thing I am certain: your future will be bright. For, looking at you, I think, how can it not be?

  Will stands in the doorway, his face reflecting your glow. He whispers: “Is she asleep?”

  “For now.” Setting my book down, I get quietly to my feet.

  “What were you reading to her?”

  “Our story.” I slip my hand into his. His fingers are warm. “I was telling her about us.”

  * * *

  FIN

  A White Bird Flies

  Through endless night,

  Soars a white bird,

  Wide wings outspread,

  Embracing the wind.

  * * *

  Fly high, oh bird,

  Follow the wind.

  * * *

  Fly high, oh bird,

  Become the wind.

  * * *

  The world turns slowly,

  Land beckons sweetly,

  The white bird alights.

  To dream of the wind.

  * * *

  The winter waves wash,

  And storm-winds blow,

  But the white bird stays warm,

  Without fear of the wind.

  * * *

  While a heart needs a home,

  A soul needs to fly.

  So in time the white bird will

  Return to the wind.

  Dedication

  To Diane – for giving me the tools.

  To Sam, Alex and Tony – for support and space.

  Without them, I would never have finished.

  And

  To my mother, Jean – for a love of reading.

  Without her, I could never have begun.

  About the Author

  I’m Rachel Stedman, and I live in the wild and windy town of Dunedin, New Zealand. In 2012 I was awarded The Tessa Duder Award from Storylines and in 2014 I won Best First Book at the New Zealand Book Awards.

  You can find more information about me and my books on my website, RLStedman.com. You can download a free short story collection there, too!

  If you enjoyed this box set, please do leave a review as this helps others to find it.

  Contact Me

  www.rlstedman.com

  Also by R. L. Stedman

  The SoulNecklace Stories:

  A Necklace of Souls

  A Skillful Warrior

  A Memory of Fire

  A Long, Long Life (A Novella)

  * * *

  Stand-Alone:

  Inner Fire

  The Prankster and the Ghost

  * * *

  Short Story Collection:

 
Upon A Time

  Acknowledgments

  Ten years ago I had a dream of a red-haired girl fighting in a forest. This dream became the catalyst for Dana, Will and the Kingdom of the Rose, and was the genesis of The SoulNecklace Stories.

  When I began writing this trilogy I had no idea it would take so long and be such an emotional rollercoaster. There have been unexpected highs, like winning THREE awards! Wow! I never, ever imagined A Necklace of Souls would win anything (actually, I never expected to even be shortlisted, so winning was a total shock!).

  There have been challenges, too. When I began The SoulNecklace Stories I had no understanding of the publishing industry, so I was stunned when HarperCollins declined to publish Necklace’s sequel, A Skillful Warrior. Lesson to aspiring novelists: if you have to choose, go for commercial over critical success. Both are nice, but publishers have to eat.

  Ten years ago I would never considered publishing my own work. But after Necklace’s birth I began getting emails asking “when is the next book coming?” My words seem to have connected with thousands of people all around the world. This is truly an awe-inspiring, humbling feeling.

  So this acknowledgement is to say a great big THANK-YOU to you: the wonderful writers, readers, librarians, teachers, bloggers and general bookfreaks I’ve met along this journey. It’s been your support and encouragement that have kept me going. Without you I would never have finished this trilogy.

  * * *

  I’d also like to thank :

  My husband, Tony, who provided proof-reading services, illustrations, meals, financial support and babysitting.

  My kids, Sam and Alex, who helped me with designs, titles and schooled me about what to say and, more importantly, what NOT to say at school visits. “Don’t try and talk like a teenager, Mum!”

  My editor, Sue Copsey, who sent me a lovely note of encouragement.

  And finally, my writing colleagues in the Romance Writers, Indie Writers and Young Adults Writing communities in New Zealand (and around the world). You know who you are. I’m so grateful for the tips, tricks and support you’ve provided.

  * * *

  The bird in the illustration is an albatross. Royal albatrosses nest at the head of the Otago Peninsula – sometimes on a windy day I’ll drive down to Tairoa Head, just to watch them fly. I’ve tried to capture their glorious grace in this book.

  Bonus Excerpt - A Long, Long Life

  A SoulNecklace Novella

  Chapter One

  Orphaned

  It was the calls of the seabirds that woke him. Reggie groaned; his head, saints how it hurt! He staggered to the edge of the boat just in time to vomit over the side. There was only yellow bile in his stomach, and he watched it float away on the foam, drifting towards the horizon.

  Far to the south lay the great Snow Hill, barely visible against the haze. It was far away and — he squinted — getting smaller. Putting his hand to his hair he felt stickiness. There was blood on his fingers. He sat down suddenly on the deck, back against the ship’s prow, fighting the pain, the dizziness. Why was he here, all alone?

  When he turned thirteen Reggie would become Da’s apprentice. But since he was still twelve he had to go to school. So, today’s trip was really just a weekend pleasure trip, a chance to get some fish and introduce Jess to the water and their boat, the Sea Bird.

  Jess, a skinny border collie with a shaggy coat and great brown eyes, had been a farm dog. But she was getting too old for the outdoors and had grown too slow for the sheep.

  “She’s got a kind heart,” said Mistress Sattherwaite. “Can’t bear to see her put down, all for getting old. Why, we all get old, don’t we? She’d be great company for your lad.”

  Da had taken the bundle of quivering black and white fur home to Reggie.

  “She’s yours now, boy,” he said. “Gotta look after her.”

  * * *

  That Saturday morning, they’d set sail just as the sun came over the horizon. Ma on the sails, Da on the tiller. Settled weather, calm sea, just right for a pleasure trip. Although Jess hadn’t enjoyed it much, whining and running about, claws click-clacking on the deck. Once she’d out her fore feet on the rail, as if to look over the side of the boat, but she got a mouthful of wave and they all laughed.

  “Make for the Hill,” Da said, motioning Reggie to take the tiller oar. He showed Reggie how to lean into it, using the tug and thrust of the sea to keep the course steady.

  “What do you do if there’s no mountain?” Reggie asked.

  “What do you mean, no mountain?”

  “I mean, like clouds and such are in the way.”

  “Ah,” Da chuckled. “You ready to learn the secrets of the trade, boy?”

  Reggie nodded.

  Da talked about navigation. “Use your other senses. Taste, sound, smell. Can smell land coming, boy,” he said. “Then there’s ripples, patterns on the waves. Wake direction. And of course,” Da took a great breath, “there’s the stars.”

  He glanced at Ma, who shook her head. “Too much information,” she said.

  Reggie listened, but didn’t take so much in because one eye was fixed on Jess, who was dashing from one side of the boat, tongue hanging out, to the other. If a dog could smile, she would be smiling.

  “Think she’s getting her sea legs,” Da said.

  They reached the fishing grounds mid-morning. Ma showed Reggie how to furl the sail and put down the sea anchor gently, without scaring away the fish. Expertly, Da threw the net over the side. It looked like black lace against the sky.

  “What’s that?” Reggie pointed at a dot on the eastern horizon.

  “Another boat,” Da said.

  “Strange,” Ma said.

  “Why?” Reggie asked

  Ma and Da exchanged adult glances above Reggie’s head. “It’s naught,”” Ma said soothingly, in the kind of voice that suggested anything but.

  “Reggie,” Da said calmly. “Ma and me want to show you how to tack. You know what tacking is?”

  “Turning into the wind?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Why?” Reggie said. “We haven’t got any fish yet.”

  Ma glanced again at the horizon. “Fish can wait.” The dot was bigger now, and obviously a ship.

  “You sure?” Da asked her.

  “I have a feeling,” Ma murmured, and started unknotting the sail ropes.

  “Back to the land,” Da said.

  “But —” Reggie said.

  There seemed no point in going out to sea unless you caught something. But Da shook his head at him. Not now, and he bit his tongue. Jess seemed to catch the changing atmosphere, because she stopped her pacing, and sat back on her haunches, panting.

  They turned slowly, tacking into the wind, Da’s hand steady on the tiller, and Ma holding the sail lines, watching the pennant flag flutter in the westering breeze. Neither of them said much, even though they were supposed to be teaching Reggie, and Ma’s face was tense.

  The other ship grew closer. It had a tall mast with a wide white sail, and oarsmen. It was moving faster than they.

  “There have been stories,” Da said, but stopped when Ma shook her head at him.

  Reggie knew what they meant. Last year three fishing sloops had disappeared.

  “But that was Camaar,” Da muttered. Camaar was on the other side of the Kingdom, near on two days ride from their house. His eyes were worried. “Would never have brought you out, if we’d thought there was any danger.”

  “We’ll be fine, Da,” said Reg bravely.

  Da patted his head, and smiled at him as the wind grew stronger, and caught the sail. Ma let the lines loosen, and the canvas took up the slack, until the small boat felt like it was flying across the sea.

  Jess sat up straight, tongue out, panting in excitement. Reggie stood in the prow to feel the wind through his hair. Beside them a seabird cried, scudding across the waves, disappearing then reappearing. But although they were fast, the strange ship was faster. It s
ped across the sea, all the time gaining, growing larger and larger, until they could see every oar and shield boss on its side. The vessel was black, but the sails were white.

  “Not from here,” Ma said.

  Da nodded. “Foreign.”

  “Shouldn’t be a foreign ship in these waters.”

  “Aye, thought the Guardian wouldn’t let them in.”

  By now Reggie was feeling nervous. What’ll happen if they catch us? Ma nodded, as if in answer to a question, and bent her head. Reggie could hear her muttering under her breath, as though she was praying. Slowly across the sea, he could see a faint line of mist, growing on the water. At first it was almost invisible, mingling with the sea spray.

  “What’s that?”

  “Hush,” Da said sternly.

  Jess crept close to Reggie’s legs, her tail brushing his calves. Kneeling, he patted her, trying to soothe himself. “It’s all right girl. It’s all right.”

  Ma’s desperate whispering grew louder. Reggie knew that Ma’s family had the Blood. Blood calls to Land, the saying went, but there seemed precious little land here, only sea and the cliffs of the Kingdom, low on the north horizon. Reggie fixed his eyes on the land.

  The black ship was drawing closer and closer, and now Reggie could see sailors on its decks, clustered along the sides, staring at his family as a cat watches at a mouse.

  Across the sea, the fog grew thicker, misty tendrils rising from the water, snaking across the ocean like a blanket. The day became silent, every noise an intrusion as the fog grew still thicker, and then the sails turned flat and empty as the wind fell. Even the ocean seemed to calm.