Archer of the Lake

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Archer of the Lake Page 37

by Kelly R. Michaels


  ***

  Thoroth confronted him during the night. ?"They are leaving."

  "What are you talking about?" ?Feraan noted that the healer was angry.

  "Caelfel went to Garvanna and asked Garvanna to leave with her. ?Caelfel argued that they had nothing left in Honey Water, and Garvanna agreed. ?Garvanna has me-"

  "You've never cared about Garvanna, at least not since you've been so concerned with Caelfel," Feraan pointed out. "Perhaps you should have told Garvanna who she had before she decided to leave."

  "Will you do nothing, then? ?After crossing the desert to save her life, you're going to let Caelfel venture into the world of men unprotected?"

  "I gave her up Thoroth. ?She is free to do whatever she wishes."

  Thoroth stormed off cursing. ?Feraan waited until he heard a door slam before he moved to retrieve Firnis.

  He had told Caelfel he didn't want to commit, but Feraan found it difficult to commit to that decision.

  Epilogue

  Lisiek didn't know where they took him. ?He could have been in the heart of the Fey Forest or within the caverns of the Baetic Mountains. ?He had been blindfolded for the journey and when they removed the cloth covering his eyes, he saw that the air was still and dark, permeated by an ancient silence. ?His guards left him in the cavernous room which he suspected to be something akin to a prison cell, only there were no bars or metal grating, no elvish guards to flank the entryways.

  But Lisiek knew better than to try to escape. ?The elves would not abandon him without purpose, so all he could do was wait. ?And in his waiting, Lisiek recalled the events that led him where he was, particularly the foolish ventures of Grimault who had blindly followed the Blind Seer's instructions. ?Grimault was not without retribution, however, because he was dead now, which might have been merciful in its own way.

  Because Lisiek's crime had been far worse than the princeling's. ?Lisiek had brought harm to an elf, and the elves did not look favorably upon such deeds. ?Grimault only sought revenge against the most hated being in the world, but Lisiek had nearly killed the only person who did not hate Feraan.

  Nearly.

  And now he stood in a dark cove in some nameless, gods' forsaken place. ?Lisiek wondered if he regretted his decisions and could not find any sort of guilt in him. ?Well, that was that.

  Lisiek turned around to see three orbs of light hovering in one of the corridors. ?They illuminated two long lines of elf soldiers that marched silently into his holding place. ?When they entered, the two lines split, circling the room's perimeter. ?In their center was a girl with dark green eyes. ?Her ears were rounded but her movements were as lithe as an elf's. ?Her wild hair curled down to the small of her back. ?Lisiek felt something different emanating from her. ?Wild energy pulsed around her being. ?The guards trained their eyes on her carefully. ?Lisiek thought that was strange. ?He would expect the guards to watch him.

  "This is your interrogation," she said. ?Her voice was smooth and harmonious like water. ?Her smile was smug.

  Then the voice was in his head. ?Do not be afraid. ?The soldiers are here for me.

  Surprised, Lisiek's arms, previously crossed, fell limply to his sides. ?He watched as the three orbs of light circled about him as if they were sentient beings. ?And they frightened him.

  Her smile deepened. ?"My name is Gwyndolyn, and I am here to talk to you." ?Don't worry. ?You can answer in your head. ?I will hear you.

  Lisiek focused his thoughts into a single question. ?The soldiers are here for your protection?

  She laughed aloud. ?No. ?For yours.

  Acknowledgments

  When initiating the project to write and publish a book independently, one quickly realizes how much of a burden it is to shoulder. It comes as no surprise that there would be others responsible for helping to bring this story to life. I am no exception.

  This is my first book and, as it were, it will always hold a special place in my heart. The same goes for the people that suffered through this with me.

  The first I shall mention are my brilliant editors. Andy Arnold has become a reliable friend over the years. I trust him and his love for stories of the fancy. Even though I did break his heart with this one. Cow Field shall return! Kelsa Warner is a friend I hope to never lose. Not only is her grounded sense of language irreplaceable, but it is her beauty that graces the cover of Archer of the Lake. She was always my vision for Caelfel. It should also be noted that Kelsa's patience is remarkable. I should mention how much she endured through my peculiarities over the years ranging from my high school antics to my indecision during the cover photo shoot. (I can hear her voice reprimanding me now, "You are too kind Kelly-wa!"). I love you Kelsa-la!

  There are others who were brave enough to plow through the terrible quality of my original draft. I will list them here: Amanda, Olivia, Mrs. Debbie. And I shan't of course forget Mrs. Lisa who offered so much support. That woman is an invaluable cheerleader.

  Other notable people who plowed through the horrid first draft: Laura and Alyssia. Laura is a friend I've known for many years but have never met in person. She has remained a constant and loyal contact since I slowly recovered from my "Fanfiction Phase" (at least, we will tell everyone I've recovered). Alyssia is a brutally honest friend, who spares no expense for your feelings. And I mean that in a good way. If something did not suit her, she would let me know. Her companionship was invaluable as we endured a THIRTY-EIGHT hour road trip that should not have taken that long, all the while passing the time by rocking out to Die Antwoord and fantasizing about Skyrim characters, critically analyzing the Lord of the Rings movies. Anywho.

  There is Ms. Denise who relentlessly demanded why I had not produced a finished book yet.

  I will never forget Caitlin, my steadfast friend since third grade. Caitlin who is honest beyond measure, who is beautiful and a much more talented writer than I. She also might have been milked for inspiration.

  There are my parents. My dad who never gave up on me, though pestering me to always complete something. My dad who proudly bragged about me to his friends and coworkers. Most notably, he never missed one of my band concerts, and I will always love him for that. It is my mother who is the reader, though. My love of stories and their characters was inherited directly from her. My mother, who is always there for me. Always. Who never lets Kathy and I forget that our birth inflicted twenty-four hours of labor, and as such, she missed the finale of X-Files. I am only sorry that this story did not have your werewolves. Maybe next time.

  There is my maternal grandmother who was my ride throughout school, until I was forced to ride the dreaded cheesewagon. Without my grandmother, my Nanny McPhee, I would not have had the many opportunities granted to me, particularly throughout high school. She encouraged my music-doings and she encouraged my writerly-doings. And there is my paternal grandfather, my aunt, and dearest Makayla. I love you.

  To my uncle who is probably the biggest fantasy and sci-fi bookworm I know, I hope this meets your expectations. Thank you for sharing your love and, of course, those Harry Potter books that may or may not have been returned.

  And almost last but not least. There is a third name to my list of official editors. That name is Halley, pronounced like the comet. Without Halley, simply put, this story would not be before you. Feraan would have turned out differently, among other things. But the most notable thing about Halley is that she cared and the only qualms she ever had with me were for my benefit. She deserves so much more than a simple paragraph. Being the star of a comedic sitcom involving aliens might have sufficed, if I ever finished it. In either case, when reflecting on this book, Halley should not be forgotten.

  And, alas, to dearest Donovan.

  And to the others who did not make it to witness my accomplishment:

  Patsy June Michaels

  (1944 - 2009)

  &

  James Selwyn Hemphill

  (1936 - 2014)

 
; requiescat in pace

  About the Author

  Kelly is a self-publishing author who publishes under the name Little Owl Publishing.? She resides in southern Tennessee where she graduated with her A.A. in Foreign Language in 2013. She continues her degree by working on a B.S. in Secondary English Education. In her spare time, she enjoys writing books.

  For more information on Kelly R. Michaels or her books, you may visit her website at:

  www.kellyrmichaels.com

 


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