The Sunset Lands Beyond (The Complete Series, Books 1-3): An epic portal fantasy boxed set

by Sarah Ashwood

  “Thanks, but what am I supposed to drink?”

  He pointed me towards a stream a short way through the trees. When I was done eating, I could go take care of my needs and get a drink.

  “Okay,” I agreed, and went to sit in the shade by myself.

  As I ate, I studied my traveling companions. They stood about in small clusters, eating placidly. Even those huddled up didn’t speak much. When they did, it was in subdued murmurs I couldn’t catch. True to form, they all ignored me. Their leader stood by the road—keeping watch, I assumed. He hadn’t eaten, but I didn’t worry about it. He was a big boy. I figured he could take care of himself.

  Finishing my lunch, I slipped into the trees and walked for a bit until I heard the babble of running water. Following it, I found a crystal-clear, swiftly moving stream. Before letting myself get a drink, I went into the bushes to do my business. Afterward, I washed my hands in the stream (wishing all the while for a good bar of soap or some hand cleaner) before cupping my fingers and lifting a mouthful of water to my lips. The water was cold and clean, but I didn’t gorge myself. Common sense told me I still had many long hours of riding ahead of me, and it wouldn’t be smart to drink so much I kept having to stop. I was pretty sure my escorts wouldn’t appreciate that.

  While I knelt there by the water’s edge, a soft, colored glow suddenly caught my eye. I raised my head slowly. Directly in front of me she stood, or rather floated, on the surface of the stream. A pale green radiance surrounded her, shimmering like an aura. Waves of spun-gold hair cascaded to her knees, and she wore a short, dark green gown with a wispy, handkerchief hem. Emerald eyes glowed from a smile that pulled rose-pink lips toward cheeks of the same color. A wreath of purple flowers, like those gracing the clearing from which I’d come, crowned her hair. I’d never seen anything so enchanting, and I gaped at her like a person under a spell.

  She broke the spell by raising a dainty hand, saying in a fluid, musical voice, “Peace be to you, Lady Hannah. May light illuminate your path.”

  My mouth shut with an audible snap, and I blinked furiously. Time moved, and the stream flowed with it. I was no longer locked in a dream. Or was I?

  She stepped lightly from the surface of the brook to the grass beside me. Kneeling, she took my hands and drew me to my feet. Touching my cheek with a soft forefinger, she said, “Greetings, my lady. You come to us from a far distant world, yet your destiny lies within ours. You are the Artan, and in you rests all of Aerisia’s tomorrows.”

  “Uh…who are you?” I finally gathered my wits to ask. Really, I wanted to demand, “What are you?” but managed to hold my tongue.

  She was still smiling. Her features were as fragile as a porcelain doll’s, her skin a creamy ivory. Her lashes were long and curled.

  “I am Aureeyah, of the Forest Fairies. My home and realm are here, within this great forest. From it, I draw my strength and my life. In return, I care for it as I am able, shielding it from harm.

  “A short while ago, I sensed a presence at my streamlet. Imagine my surprise when who should I discover but the Artan herself!”

  “You know who I am?”

  “But of course! We fairies have patiently awaited your arrival for lo, these many years. I am blessed above all in being the first to welcome you home.”

  Welcome me home? I thought, taken aback by her odd choice of words.

  She was oblivious to my confusion. “Verily, had I not been busy nursing a sick poplar to health, I should have greeted you much sooner.”

  She shifted a step closer, her eyes shining as if lit from within.“My trees have been whispering amongst themselves of a stranger in their midst ever since you and your party first entered their borders. And such a stranger! Although I was steeped in my work, I did not fail to notice the excitement in their voices. They knew an extraordinary person rode their paths. If only I’d known how extraordinary!”

  I have to admit, I was dumbfounded by all this. So much so that I didn’t know how to react when she took my hand in hers, asking sincerely, “Can you ever forgive me?”

  “I, uh…of—of course. Of course!” I stammered. “I mean, there’s nothing to forgive. Thank you for your welcome.”

  “Indeed,” she returned, bowing grandly. “Welcome to Aerisia, Lady Hannah from Earth. My forest and I bid you welcome. We—”

  She stopped short, turning her head in the direction I’d come from, as if she were listening for something.

  More fairies? I wondered.

  I looked, too, but saw and heard nothing until a second later when Lord Ilgard suddenly emerged from the depths of the trees. His dark eyes met mine as he raked me with a quick up-and-down look: making certain, I supposed, that I hadn’t been harmed. Then his gaze swung to my companion, and I was dismissed.

  If I expected him to betray even a hint of surprise when he caught sight of the fairy, I was sadly mistaken. His face revealed nothing as he approached and knelt on one knee before her. Rather than raise a palm in the common Aerisian salute, he pressed right fist to left shoulder and bowed his head, chin to chest, waiting for Aureeyah to speak.

  I was all astonishment when the fairy extended her own arm, laying a hand upon the warrior-lord’s dark head.

  “Welcome, Lord Ilgard, High-Chief of the Simathe. Ever shall you and your warriors find shelter among the domains of the fairies.”

  He lifted his chin. “I thank you, Lady.”

  I could scarcely believe the picture of complete incongruity presented here: the slight, fragile-looking fairy resting a dainty hand on the unnaturally black head of the tall Simathe who knelt before her. She was like a rosebud, the embodiment of delicate beauty, while he was dark and hard, as if carved from the heart of his Unpassed Mountains. Yet he knelt to her in respect, and she smiled down at him. No way could I have ever predicted such a crazy scene.

  “Indeed, I beg you to rise,” Aureeyah now said in answer to the Simathe’s statement. He did, and she went on, saying, “You have traveled many a mile on your journey. Yet a few more, and you will be within reach of my vale. I shall meet your party at the Standing Elm, six miles hence.”

  She turned to me. “This will be the easiest day of travel for you, my lady. Doubtless, the High-Chief would have ridden far into the night, but I’ll cut short your journey this day.” Back to the High-Chief—“You shall abide with me, this eve.”

  “As my lady wishes,” he acquiesced, shocking me. I never would’ve dreamed he’d roll over and play dead for anybody. But if I was shocked by that, I was really stunned when the next thing he said was, “Have I your leave to rejoin my men?”

  My eyebrows winged upward, and I’m pretty sure my mouth fell open. Ilgard, master of the dread Simathe, asking anybody’s permission to do anything? Something was definitely strange here.

  Aureeyah seemed to take it in stride, granting assent by saying, “Of course. I shall see you later this eve.”

  With that, she left him and came to me, capturing my hand between both of hers. “We shall speak later, you and I. Until then, may blessings of light rest upon you.” She squeezed my fingers lightly. “Farewell.” Then she was gone, vanished before our eyes, leaving no traces to indicate that she’d ever been there. Even the grass where she had stood wasn’t matted.

  Bewildered, I whirled to face my companion. “She’s gone!”

  He actually half smiled at my astonishment. “So she is. Let us depart, as well.”

  I glanced, confused, from him to the place she’d been standing mere seconds ago then back to him. “But, but—”

  “She is a fairy,” he explained patiently. “Fairies depart at will.”

  “You mean they just…vanish?”

  “Aye, vanish.”

  He grasped my upper arm to get me moving, guiding me back into the trees. I kept glancing over my shoulder, half expecting to see a soft green glow…but nothing was there. Not paying attention to where I was walking, however, made me stumble over the uneven ground, and I pitched against the Simathe
. His other hand shot out, catching my shoulder and steadying me.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled, pulling back. When he didn’t release me, I peeked up timidly into his face.

  He nodded toward the ground. “Watch your feet.”

  I bit my lower lip. “Yes, sir.”

  Satisfied, he let his hands fall from my shoulders and started off without a word, leading the way back toward the rest of our group. I stood there staring after him for a long second, shivered, and followed.

  Suspicions

  Not a lot can be said for those remaining hours on the forest trail. For the most part they were passed in silence, with no conversation between us. The only noises were the plodding of the horses, the drone of insects, the creaking of leather saddles, the warbling of birds in the trees, and my own quiet humming.

  My attempts at a little music to break the endless monotony didn’t last long, however. Only a few bars into the melody, I felt eyes upon me, and turned to find the Simathe leader regarding me with a peculiar expression. Apparently, music wasn’t a big part of his world. Somewhere between one note and the next, I broke off. No more humming.

  Anyway, having begun to observe a strange activity among my escorts, I’d already found something else to hold my attention. Every now and then I’d see one of them turn and look into another warrior’s face like people carrying on a verbal exchange. They never traded words, and these stares lasted mere seconds. Still, it was pretty obvious something fishy was going on.

  Once, I caught the “young” Simathe who’d held the horses during our stop exchanging this sly swap with the Chief Captain. He was riding a few paces ahead and to the right of myself, and after swapping glances with Lord Norband on my left, his gaze met mine in passing as it swung back around. He must’ve known I was watching, for a mischievous smile flitted lightning-fast across his face…and then he winked at me.

  My eyebrows jumped at this actual attempt at humor, the first I’d witnessed from any of these guys. He quickly straightened in the saddle, his face going blank like nothing had ever happened.

  I couldn’t help it. I laughed.

  Beside me, the man assigned to be my personal bodyguard turned my direction with another what-sort-of-creature-are-you-anyway? expression.

  This time, rather than cower or flinch, I lifted my chin and flashed him my brightest smile. “Nice day, isn’t it?”

  He gazed at me a long moment before offering a simple, “Aye,” and then resuming his stony stance.

  Whatever.

  Snickering to myself, I gave my attention back to the road but couldn’t help smiling. Maybe there was a possibility of finding a friend among these strangers, after all. At the very least, I now knew one of them was capable of showing signs that he was human. My guess was, he probably wasn’t as old and set in his ways, so to speak, as his companions—although since the Simathe were supposedly immortal, he could still be way older than me.

  As for the strange pattern of wordless stares? I wasn’t sure. Teasing my brain was the suspicion that, on top of everything else odd about them, these men were communicating with their minds. I tried to push the idea aside, telling myself it was absolutely ridiculous. It refused to leave. An inner voice insisted that, if so many other impossibilities on Earth were possible here in Aerisia, perhaps mental telepathy was, as well.

  Mystery

  As unobtrusively as possible, the Simathe High-Chief studied the young woman riding beside him, studied her as he had multiple times throughout the course of this journey. He’d never thought to be so closely linked with a woman—they remained something of a mystery to him, despite his numerous years.

  Shortly after birth, Simathe children were taken from their mothers and raised by men alone at Treygon. From birth to manhood, their lives revolved around obedience to their lords and elders, then mastering a craft or learning to fight.

  For more centuries than he cared to count, Ilgard’s way of life had been battle. His palms were not the smooth flesh of an idle nobleman. His hands were rough and calloused, his fingers flecked with a variety of scars, a testament to many years of warfare and handling weapons. His limbs were not housed in fine flesh, and rarely fine clothing. He was a lord, true, but not a lord born into that position, like a rich man’s son. He was a warrior-lord. Nearly all his life he had fought and killed.

  Most of his clan spent little time among non-Simathe, and, despite being their High-Chief, he was no different. The general exception was when fighting alongside them in battle, or, in his case, when assuming his seat at Council. Truthfully, the Simathe found real acceptance only among themselves, and partially with Council, but only because Aerisia needed their war skills. No one knew, saw, understood, or appreciated the hidden services Treygon carried on: services without which, Ilgard often thought, Aerisia might not stand. This was how it had always been, and he had long ago given up considering the whys and wherefores of his unusual existence.

  If the common folk of Aerisia feared and shunned the Simathe, their women did doubly. There was no Aerisian mother who didn’t fear bearing a Simathe infant each time she conceived. One rumor even ran that to look a Simathe in the eye was to risk bearing a Simathe child. Needless to say, few women ran that risk.

  There were no Simathe women, and Simathe did not marry. To his knowledge, none ever had or would. From earliest infancy, Simathe were taught to rely exclusively on themselves and one another. Women were a thing of the outside world: lovely, foreign creatures to be marveled at, but never pursued as other men pursued. Never loved, never taken as brides. In any case, there was little place for mortal women in the Simathe existence or lifespan, and so there simply were none. Again, it was a thing unquestioned by both the High-Chief and his men.

  Now, however, for the first time in his considerably long life he found himself in the company of a young mortal woman, pledged as her guardian, and even taking her to Treygon, his home. Aside from the fairies, no woman of any sort had ever walked those halls. She was no mere woman, of course; she was the Artan. Even so, as the Artan, she was still mortal and, as a woman, something of a mystery, a challenge.

  She was very, very young. Except for her one green eye, the coloring of her hair, skin, and eyes was distinctively Earthlike, not Aerisian. She carried herself in a different manner, dressed differently from anyone he’d ever seen, and continued to speak and act in ways more bold and bizarre than any other maiden—or man, for that matter—that he’d ever met.

  At present, she rode in silence alongside him, the reins clasped loosely in her small, gloved hands, a quicksilver smile playing about her lips. Those eyes of brown and green darted from one thing to the next as she took in her surroundings with evident interest. Quite a change from the sobbing girl of yesterday who’d so spitefully assured him of her hatred, or the courageous—if foolhardy—prisoner who had climbed over her balcony as a means of escape.

  Previously, when they’d halted in the trailside clearing, Ilgard had found himself irritated by his alarm when she lingered overlong in the woods. The alarm had surprised him, and he disliked being surprised. It happened rarely enough. Having lived for so long, he felt the rhythm of life, knew what course matters should take, and could generally foretell how they would go. In birth, life, and death there was a marked sameness. Even in battle there was cadence and consistency: thrust with the sword, swing to the side, block a blow, give one, trade favor for favor. Guard your back, guard your comrade’s back. Never underestimate your opponent.

  He cast a measuring glance at this newcomer who had succeeded in thoroughly disrupting his life. Had he somehow underestimated her? Most of his relationships were straightforward: he was ruler of the Simathe and chose his friends from among his fellow lords. Everyone else obeyed his orders without question. But her, the Artan? Somehow, he thought she might prove a bit more difficult.

  Nevertheless, Join with her he would, and doubtless this would bring its own unpleasantness. It couldn’t be helped. He would guard her, he would fight for her,
he would serve her as he deemed best, but he would not make a fool of himself over her. She would not become a distraction—after all, how much trouble could one woman be? She would merely be there at Treygon as his responsibility, his charge.

  Resolved, he turned away from her, steeling his mind against further internal disruptions. Pretty and soft and sweet-smelling she might be, but he was a Simathe. He would not allow such pointless frivolities to sway him.

  Fairy Forest

  We rode without further communication, or any outward forms of it, until we reached the Standing Elm—easily the largest tree I’d ever seen. It stood sentinel by the side of the road, towering high above the other trees in the forest, although they were no saplings. Massive branches thrust toward the sky, as if this tree alone bore the burden of supporting its weight. I craned my neck so I could look up, up, up…

  Wow, that’s tall.

  Beside me, Lord Ilgard halted his horse, saying, “We stop here.”

  The rest of us complied, though one Simathe actually asked, “Here, my lord?”

  I glanced around to see who’d spoken. It was my friend, the one whose wink and smile had made me laugh.

  “Here,” his High-Chief reiterated.

  Content with that, his subordinate faced forward once more. The other warriors had asked no questions. Their lord’s word was good enough for them. He commanded, they obeyed.

  I waited for the man to offer some explanation about the fairy Aureeyah and how she’d promised to meet us here. None was forthcoming. Apparently, as I’d been warned, these guys really didn’t talk. I shouldn’t have been surprised, even though I was a little. They certainly hadn’t been communicative the whole day.

  Refocusing my attention on the gigantic tree, I decided to ignore my company. The Elm’s network of roots poked up through the ground in several places, as its knobby knees spread out all over. Some had even busted through the packed dirt of the narrow roadway.