#S.o.L.a.S Chapters

[lamuradex]

Signs of Light and Shadow - Book 1

Prologue - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

Chapter 1 - Life in the Woods

Rain misted over the leaves as a tree shuddered and fell. A young woman stood near the fallen trunk, axe in hand, catching her breath. Wiping her brow, she chopped the log into pieces and began her trek back through the forest with the lumber on a small sled.

She looked to be in her mid-twenties, with long black hair which hung down her back. Her complexion was a robust peach, with only small scratches, a few lingering freckles, and some flecks of mud to mar her skin. Her eyes were a deep, watery blue, but shone brightly out from beneath her dark eyebrows. Her cheeks and chin were soft and mild, her features surprisingly delicate for one so used to the outdoors. This was with the exception of a slightly crooked nose and a small scar on her left ear from some fight arguably won. Athletically built, her body was toned and agile. She wore a light-armoured garb, all greys and dark blues, made of leather and metal plates, tough but built for movement. It covered her from her neck to her boots, a dark red cape attached at the shoulders which hung down past her knees.

She hummed as she walked, her axe on her hip, as the rain slowed to a stop. Suddenly, she paused. There was a rustling in the brush. Only her head moved as she searched for the noise. She relaxed when she spotted it was just a small herd of deer. She licked her lips. Her hand went to her axe, slow and silent, but there was another rustle, as a fox ran from the trees and the deer scampered away in alarm.

She shrugged and kept walking.

She reached the camp and placed down her firewood, before chopping it into further chunks. The loud crack of wood rang out, and from the nearby den in a tree, another woman emerged.

“Cerris?” she called.

“I’m back,” Cerris answered between strikes.

“That was fast. Did you get food or firewood?”

“Thought that would have been obvious, Elena.” Cerris’s axe landed pointedly.

Elena sighed. Her blonde hair was tied up in a neat bun, while the sides hung down framing her face. Her complexion was smoother and warmer than Cerris’s, though more from makeup than sun. Her features were very much like her sister’s, only with a smaller, unbroken nose, rich brown eyes, and a lither figure. She wore a dress of pale-gold fabric, the hem of which stopped just above her ankles. Her prim shoes were made of sturdy but pretty leather, though they were of course speckled with dirt and mud. Finally, a necklace adorned her throat, five interconnected gold rings on a beaded chain for its charm, the piece pulling together her gilded appearance.

“So, you didn’t get anything to eat?” Elena surmised.

“No, I didn’t.” Cerris kept chopping. “Do we need food?”

“Not urgently, no. We still have those spices and vegetables from town. Could use some meat to go with it though,” Elena said, stepping out from the den.

“Maybe you should go hunting then?” Cerris smirked, finishing up and leaning on her axe.

Elena shook her head and started piling the chopped wood. “Very funny, Cerris.”

“It was just a suggestion.” Cerris sheathed her axe and headed inside, pushing open the blanket curtain door.

The inside was welcoming and warm, with beds, candles, a table and chairs. Two single beds were bathed in candlelight, each covered in soft linens. The furthest bed was dressed with yellow, almost golden, duvets embellished with swirling patterns. Meanwhile the closer one was made with simple dark green sheets. Between the beds was a small shelf, built into the wall. One end was littered with a collection of flower buds, a few gemstones, and a pearl, while the other end had a sharpening stone, a polishing cloth, and a coin purse. Opposite, to the left of the room, sat a disused double bed. The candles around it were unlit and the bed was buried in clutter. Amongst the clutter was a small wooden shrine, three carved figures barely discernible, the wooden block half buried by clothes.

Cerris paused, enjoyed the warmth for a moment, then grabbed one of the old chairs and dragged it outside. She placed it next to the fire pit, then placed a second chair almost directly opposite. With a relaxed sigh, she fell into a seat and made herself comfortable.

Elena had placed some of the wood in the firepit and was now grabbing a few dry twigs from the overhang of a tree for kindling. She returned and piled them all together.

“You’re going to want to make a little tent with the twigs,” Cerris suggested.

“I’m well aware,” Elena snipped. “Maybe if I go out hunting, you can stay here and make the fire, cook the meals, clean the beds, and most of the other chores?”

“I could, you know.”

“Yes, but much slower than just letting me do them.”

Elena grabbed one of the larger twigs by an end, and with her other hand, she pressed a finger against its longest branch. Like heated metal, parts of the twig began to glow, small symbols burning in the bark. Elena removed her finger and the runes glowed red hot. In a flash, the marks ignited, the twig caught, and it was placed burning amongst the kindling. Elena then followed Cerris’s example, but first retrieved an old dress with needle and thread before she sat in her own seat, straight backed and proper.

Cerris sat back languidly, holding out her hands to the flames, staring at the clear blue sky. She sighed happily. “So,” she began. “What did you get up to while I was gone?”

“Not much,” Elena said, stitching a rip in the dress. “Took a walk nearby looking for interesting plants. Cleaned inside. Tried to mend… this.” She focused on a particularly difficult stitch.  

“What happened to your dress?”

“Oh, nothing,” Elena said without looking up.

Cerris eyed her doubtfully. “So, it just ripped by itself?”

“It’s only a small tear. Near the shoulder strap.”

“Oh yeah. I remember seeing it,” Cerris recalled. She raised an eyebrow. “You wore that dress last time we went into town, right?”

“Did I?”

“Yes. You did.”

“Oh, well. Must have happened while I was out and about.” Elena waved a hand innocently.

Cerris aimed an accusatory smile. “You know, I think I remember seeing that rip when you came out of the tavern. You seemed very happy that day,” she teased. “Something happen while I was distracted?”

“Oh, why would you think that?”

“Because you’re blushing.”

Elena tried to appear affronted, but couldn’t against Cerris’s smug smile. Her insulted expression fell to embarrassed annoyance.

“Fine,” she pouted. “There was a rather nice gentleman who was there that night.”

“And?”

“He was charming. He even dared to kiss me on the cheek before the night was done.”

“Exciting,” Cerris rolled her eyes. “And did this kiss excite you so much your shoulder strap broke?”

“It wasn’t the whole strap,” Elena corrected indignantly, “just nearby it. And no, it wasn’t him who was responsible.”

“Aggressive moths then?”

“No. One of his drunkard friends tried to grab my shoulder. The gentleman apologised on the drunkard’s behalf, of course.”

“Quite the manners,” Cerris approved. “So, what was this mystery man’s name?”

“…I don’t know,” Elena deflated. “He introduced himself, I’m sure, but between the noise and the ale I’m not sure if I even heard him.”

“A regular?”

“No. Just passing through,” she said disheartened. “When he left at the end of the evening, he left town. I’ll likely not see him again.”

“Ah, well.” Cerris relaxed, staring again at the midday sky. “At least you had some fun.”

“I suppose,” Elena agreed sombrely. “Still, feels like quite the missed opportunity.”

“I’m sure you’ll meet someone nice.”

“Hmm…” Elena got back to her sewing.

The pair fell into a comfortable silence, as Cerris sat back and dozed in her chair. The fire crackled and danced. After a short while, Elena spoke again.

“I did find some new flowers on my walk.”

Cerris stirred from her dozing. “Hm… Anything good?”

“Some small grey blossoms outside that dead tree by the river.” Elena gestured in the general direction. “They make a sticky paste when crushed. Might be useful.”

“For mending and the like?”

“I think so. But I’ll wait until I can have someone check them out in town. Make sure they’re not poisonous.”

Cerris nodded. “Good plan. Don’t want to have them littered around the home, then find out they’ll make us sick.”

“They do smell lovely though,” Elena chirped. “Like roses and winter berries. A scrumptious smell, like those cakes the baker cooks around-”

A gurgling rumble cut off the conversation. Elena turned red.

“Was that your stomach?” Cerris grinned.

“Yes,” Elena shrunk back in her seat.

“If you’re hungry, we’ve got some fruit,” Cerris offered, pointing back at the den.

“I don’t know. I was hoping for something a little… heartier?” Elena said with veiled hope.

“So you want me to go hunting?” Cerris prompted.

Elena focused on her sewing. “Only if you want to.”

“Well good. Because I’m happy here.” Cerris sat back to relax again. “Unless you want to go hunting instead?”

Elena threw down the dress in her lap. “Cerris, what am I going to do against a deer? Jab it with a needle? Throw a stone?”

“An enchanted stone maybe?”

Elena went to answer, but just huffily got back to her sewing. When Cerris stayed seated, she rolled her eyes. “Oh, fine. If I must ask. Cerris, would you please go hunting?”

“I think I will,” Cerris stood and stretched, rolling her shoulders. “I could go for something with a bit more substance anyway. And I saw some deer before. Shouldn’t be too hard to track.”

“Thank you. And while you’re gone, I’ll get the stew going.”

“Sounds good.” Cerris looked to the sun, determining the time.

“And take your shield,” Elena said firmly.

Cerris nodded, walked back towards the den, and pulled her shield from beside the door. She took a moment to admire the intricate faded pattern that decorated it. A blue wolf stood before a red tree on a field of dull yellow. She wiped some dirt off it with a sleeve, then hung the shield over her shoulder on a strap.

“Okay then. I’ll be back soon. A few hours at most,” she smiled, then headed out across the clearing to the east.

* * *

Cerris stalked through the underbrush, barely crinkling the leaves beneath her feet, the wet weather keeping the forest soft and soundless. She crept around a large tree, then up a ridge overlooking a clearing. Dense foliage surrounded the glade, and a shallow stream ran through the middle. Her perch was a short cliff, about head height above the ground. Below, a herd of deer were gathered. Most bent their necks to graze, but some were stood bolt upright, ears swivelling. One stag stood in the centre, tall antlers visible over the crowd.

Cerris crouched on the ridge. She drew her axe from her belt with practiced ease, fingerless leather gloves and calloused fingers working it out thoughtlessly. She watched the herd. Her fingers shifted their grip. Her knees tensed. The leather of her greaves creaked. One of the deer spun its ears towards her. Cerris took a deep breath and pounced.

She leapt from the ridge, hit the ground and rolled. The first deer saw her and startled, the panic rippling through the herd. Cerris rose into a sprint, closing the distance. The herd began to move. Less than a step away, the closest doe was already bolting. Cerris loosened her grip and swung her arm out. The axe slid through her palm until her grip returned at the end of the handle. With the full length of the weapon, she swung. The blade clipped the rear leg of the deer. The animal stumbled as its leg failed, landing in a heap a few paces away. Its front legs struggled to stand, while its surviving rear leg was trapped beneath it. Cerris rounded to the creature’s head and held her axe ready.

With a sudden burst, the deer sprang up, its rear leg gaining traction. Its lame limb dangled as it bounced across the clearing, until it stumbled and stopped. Cerris took her chance. She charged and swung for the animal’s neck, but the axe cut empty air. The doe sprang and vanished past the tree-line. Cerris scowled.

“By the blasted skies! Dra’aming car’zit!” she cursed a blue streak. She then looked to the sky, took a calming breath, and reduced her anger to a grumble. “It’ll take hours to track that doe.”

She looked to the ground. It was muddy, grassy soil with silt rock nearer the stream, the softer earth torn up from the many hooves that had fled. Amongst it, there was a small splatter of blood where the doe had stood, and another patch where it had fallen. Cerris followed to where the deer had fled. No visible tracks, or too many from the herd. But the stream ran near the spot, the water shallow, muddy and about three strides wide. Something crimson floated on the water. A trail. Cerris gripped her axe tightly and followed it upstream, stance low and ready.

She followed the river for about half a mile, the blood trail still floating past. She stayed behind trees and out of the water wherever she could, quiet and tense, ready to strike.

Eventually, she reached a small turn in the river where the water pooled. The blood was still visible. She followed the pool’s edge until she found where the stream fed in. Clean. No blood at all. She continued to circle the pool until she found a trickle of crimson. It flowed over the silt like a small red snake. Further into the trees, the soil was dark and sodden. More blood than could have come from the deer’s wound. The trail headed uphill.

With some effort, gripping tree branches and rocks, Cerris struggled to the top. The slope levelled out and she steadied herself. The earth was heavy with red fluid. Her eyes followed the trail, the stream widening as it went. Finally, it ended at a large mound in the forest bed. A mound covered in cloth and bleeding.

Cerris walked over to the man. He was leant up against a tree, back to the slope, wearing a long brown and white robe with a hood that shrouded his face. What could be seen was old and weathered, his face deeply pale. A red flower of colour blossomed across his chest, which rose and fell as he struggled for breath.

“Hello?” Cerris called cautiously. She stepped around the figure and slipped her axe back into her belt. “Can you hear me?”

The figure moved, turning his head. “Yes… Yes I can,” he managed to say, his voice croaking and weak. Even so, he seemed cheerful. “Not for much longer I’d guess,” he smiled, his accent eloquent and foreign.

“You’re injured. Is there anything I can do?” Cerris knelt beside him. “My sister has magic. She might be able to help.”

He smiled wider at her kindness, but shook his head. “Not likely, dear girl. It’s alright. It’s been a grand journey, this life has. A long-” He was interrupted by an unpleasant, hacking cough. “It’s been a long and winding path,” he finished breathlessly.

“What-” Cerris started to ask.

“What happened?” the man finished for her, temporarily regaining his breath. “Let my guard down with a wolf. Drove off most of the pack, but the leader stayed to fight. Quick little devil.” He coughed again. “Got the blighter with my knife though, right in his shoulder,” he wheezed proudly.

“What… What’s your name?” Cerris asked, avoiding his eye and wringing her hands.

“Graham of the Great Cliffs. I’m a long way from home,” he said happily. “And you?”

“Cerris,” she answered. She could hardly look at him.

“You seem scared, Cerris. But then again, death must be new to a young lady like you.”

“No. It isn’t.”

His smile saddened. “Oh. I see. But that doesn’t make it easier,” he nodded.

Cerris looked him in the eye at last. He didn’t seem scared, but she still couldn’t hold his gaze for long.

“You are kind to try to help, Cerris.” He reached out a hand to pat her arm.

Cerris was silent.  She simply nodded, as the man’s breath became more strained. One hand raised to clutch his chest.

“Thank you,” he gasped. “And good luck to you in all that is to come. You may need it,” he chuckled.

Slowly, like a flame sputtering out, his eyes slid shut and his head slumped back. As he lay, his chest gradually slowed to a stop. When he was completely still, one last breath escaped. Cerris reached forward, placing a hand to his chest. There was nothing.

He was dead.

Cerris stood, looked him over, bowed her head solemnly, and seeing nothing else to do, she turned to leave.

Suddenly, each of the man’s hands began to glow. Cerris leapt back, raising her axe. His left hand radiated a pearly white light while his right was shrouded in an obsidian black. Both grew stronger, lightening and darkening their surroundings. The strange powers reached their zenith, almost eclipsing the man. Then they flared and died to nothing.

Cerris looked on, waiting for any other strangeness. She took a step closer, and prodded the body with her axe handle, but there was nothing. The body was still. He was definitely gone.

“Is… is that what happens when people die?” she wondered. She’d seen bodies before, two at least, but she’d never seen the moment of death. She couldn’t be sure that wasn’t supposed to happen. She certainly hadn’t enjoyed it.

 She breathed a final sigh and turned to walk away. Then she stopped. Her stomach knotted as she eyed the dead man again. She turned and stood over the body, raising her hands together in front of her chest. Quietly, she prayed.

“By the heavens and earth, the spirits and the fire, let the soul of this man be guided well to the land beyond. May he be protected from evil and be honoured for his good deeds. May his friends remember him fondly-” she recited flatly, recalling the prayer as best she could.

As she prayed, two shapes moved in a nearby tree, two cats strolling through the branches.

“-may the great veil beyond grant passage, and the waters of the endless rivers carry him gently. Let the skies above look kindly upon him-”

The cats leapt from branch to branch and moved towards her, dancing around each other in their path. Cerris glanced at them but continued.

“-The earth accept his humble form, the winds carry his soul, the waters wash away his pain-”

The felines made no noise as they moved. One had white fur, speckled with golden brown. The other was black, flecked with auburn. Cerris watched them wryly, but continued her prayer unabated.

“-The Father of Skies watch over us all-”

The cats stopped a few feet away, perched on a branch near head height. They were definitely watching her. Staring at her.

Cerris stared back, then shook it off and turned back to the dead man. “-and may the light of… Aheazal shine upon us and the shadow of Zaheal cloak us,” she struggled to remember which was which.

“So close, but not an uncommon mistake,” a masculine voice echoed.

Cerris span, her axe and shield drawn. Her eyes scanned the area for the speaker, but she was alone. There was only the dead man. The dead man and the cats. The felines stared at her intently, each one the negative mirror of the other. After a moment, one cat turned towards the other.

“I do enjoy that prayer. I just wish we featured in it more.” A new voice came from nowhere, this one feminine and bright. The white cat jumped down from the branch. “Then again, what role do we actually play in their daily lives.”

“Their sunlight, their knowledge, their energy and motivation. Take your pick,” said the male voice cynically. The dark cat lowered its ears to its head and prowled along the branch. “At least in some abstract respects. And it isn’t like we actually hand it to them. I guess I take your point.”

“Hello?” Cerris called out, her voice shaking. The white cat bent its head up to stare at her.

“Down here, daughter of man,” said the female voice. Cerris looked down to meet the cat’s gaze. She stared into yellow eyes. Eyes that stared back.

“I believe she is confused. Maybe we should help her understand,” the male voice rang out. It almost sounded like it was coming from inside Cerris’s head, but she still turned towards the black cat.

“You’re right. Prepare yourself, human,” the female voice chirped.

The white cat began to radiate the same blinding light that had come from the dead man’s hand, as the black cat followed suit, its surroundings swallowed in an opaque black aura. Within each flare, the shape of the cats altered, unfolding and rising. Each form straightened up and faced her, their radiant aura’s dissipated, their new bodies revealed, one woman and one man. Beyond that though, they could not have been described as human.

The woman had robes made of light. Beneath them, darkness clung to her skin like silk, concealing her eyes beneath her hood. Her skin was radiant pearl and silver hair spilled about her shoulders. Her robes hung loose, a shimmering hunter’s tunic and trousers beneath, the clothes sculpted onto her frame. Her very presence glowed, her light welcoming, like the dawn after a long dark night. She smiled at Cerris.

The other figure was her opposite in almost every way. Darkness clung to him like a shroud, becoming impossibly darker beneath his cloak, his features given shape by how the shadows ebbed and waned. But his eyes shone through the blackness as two glowing stars in the night. His cloak was tied shut and entrapped him, his arms folded. Nothing was discernible beneath, not even movement. He glided over the ground, noiseless and without disturbing the grass. His presence engulfed everything, like a living shadow on a moonless night, as he glanced emotionless at the young woman before them.

“I am Aheazal, the Spirit of Darkness. You were incorrect in your prayer before,” the shadowed man said with a flat tone, his voice cold and indifferent.

“And I am Zaheal. I hope you can guess what I’m the god of,” the woman chimed, her voice bright and warm, though she held a calm air.

Cerris’s eyes darted back and forth between the two impossible beings before her. Her axe fell from her hand. Her shield dangled from her arm. Finally, understanding struck her and she fell to her knees. She dropped as low as she could and bowed her head. Her mouth froze, stumbling to find words, as her hands clasped together again in prayer before the gods.

The Spirit of Light chuckled, her laughter like echoing bells. “Is she afraid or is she happy to see us?”

“Neither. Now forget the mortal. We have business,” the Spirit of Shadows answered.

“Very well.”

Cerris watched as Aheazal, draped in his darkness, drifted across the area. His feet, if indeed he had any, made no noise as he moved, stopping at the side of the dead man. Zaheal meanwhile bounded across to the corpse, whipping the wind behind her, stopping between Cerris and the body. The dead man’s hands glowed once more at their presence.

“What a crying shame,” Zaheal shook her head reverently.

“An inevitability,” Aheazal countered.

“This one lived a long time though, and ventured so far from home. Almost halfway across the grand continent, seeking his own truths.”

“Halfway across Deivhara, all to discover and understand the world? I guess I can respect that. But now he dies to a random beast in some forgotten corner of one little forest.”

“Such is fate unforgiving, and now his blessings fade,” Zaheal said yieldingly.

“As with all the rest,” Aheazal spoke as fact.

“Now to choose who will host our marks next. I believe there are a few towns nearby?”

“I suppose. Warriors, adventurers or bards,” Aheazal grumbled.

“What do you suggest instead?”

“Why not just use the mortal which is already presented to us?”

They turned to Cerris, still knelt nearby. Her stomach went cold as their eyes fell on her.

“Strong, a hunter, and a woman?” Zaheal smiled. “This could be amusing.”

“Nearby is the only trait I’m concerned about,” Aheazal sighed.

“Providence by any other name. And it is how we picked the last one. We’ll have to do something different with the next.”

“Agreed.”

As they spoke, the dead man’s hands glowed brighter. With a single movement, both entities cast a hand in Cerris’s direction.

Cerris prayed to the dead to save her, as the gods were already before her. She thought of her parents. Then the gods’ powers filled her vision and everything went dark.

*  *  *

Images swirled. Shrouded in darkness. Glimpsed through the black.

A great red palace. Solid crimson walls. A legion of guards and the sounds of crowds.

The image shifted. A deep dark cavern. Words painted upon the wall. Silence in the stone.

Then a shifting form with claws and teeth. Moving. Changing.

A voice cut through the darkness. Light crept in with it.

The voice was distant but shouting.

Getting closer.

“Cerris?”

*  *  *

Cerris awoke on the forest floor. Sticks dug into her back through her armour. A voice called out. She could barely move. The world was dark.

“Cerris?” the voice called again. She knew it.

“Elena?” she whispered. The ground beneath her rustled as she tried to move.

“Cerris!” Elena called stressfully.

Cerris heard footsteps, running and breaking twigs. Elena was panting for breath.

“By the skies, Cerris, please be alright.”

Cerris opened her eyes. She was looking up through the forest canopy, and Elena was leant over her, eyes wild with fear. The moment they locked eyes, she visibly relaxed. The forest was dark, the moon hanging in the sky above. Cerris winced against her sore limbs and the cold night which bit at her. With an effort she pulled herself up.

“Elena?” Cerris murmured. Her head swam. “What happened?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” Elena said unhappily. “First you say you’re going to catch some deer, then you disappear until well past sunset. When I finally find you, you’re lying here, freezing in the night air.”

“I found someone. They were hurt.” Cerris rubbed her sore head and glanced over to where the man had been. Nothing remained of him. Where he had been lying, a great gouge had been taken out of the earth. Cerris stared in dull confusion before searching her surroundings, but there was nothing. No sign of the cats or the people they had become. No sign of the man. Her axe still lay beside her. She picked it up and used it as a crutch to stand, as Elena grabbed her armoured shoulder and supported her. Between the axe, Cerris’s weak legs and Elena, they carefully headed home.

[lamuradex]

Signs of Light and Shadow - Book 1

Prologue - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

Chapter 3 – Dragonridge

Cerris led the way, as Elena followed, and Gareth lagged behind with the cow. He had joyfully accepted their offer of help, and so the girls had gathered up a few essentials for the trip. There was no need for water or food, as it would supposedly be a short trip to civilisation, so Elena only took a coin purse and an empty satchel, while Cerris took her axe and her shield.

They had been walking for a while now, and had passed the elms that marked the girls’ safe territory over an hour ago. Cerris eyed their surroundings suspiciously while Elena and Gareth chatted.

“So, what is it like, using magic?” he asked her.

“I don’t know how to describe it. It’s just something I do. It feels natural,” she explained.

“But does it tingle or hurt or anything?”

“It doesn’t hurt, no. Sometimes it tingles. More often it’s just tiring.”

“Does it need much focus?” Gareth asked enthusiastically. “Did you have to concentrate to heal my arm?”

“Sort of, for healing. You need to hold a concept in your mind.” She picked up a twig as she walked, twirling it between her fingers. “You focus on that concept, or word, or idea, you focus on what you want to happen, and then… it just sort of happens.” Runes formed in the bark and the end of the stick began to smoke. She made ribbons in the air with the vapor. “I’m still learning what I can and can’t do though.”

“So, could you make that twig grow?” Gareth wondered.

Elena looked at the dead stick between her fingers. It was half rotten.

“That… might be a bit beyond me,” she admitted. “I mean, I wouldn’t know where to start. What word to focus on. All I really know how to do is to burn something or crumble it to dust.” She demonstrated, the runes changing and the stick breaking into little pieces. It was so rotten that she likely could have crumbled it without sorcery. “I can also make a little ball of light, but that isn’t worth the trouble. Takes far too much effort.”

“And what about healing?”

“Healing is simple but… imprecise. It only speeds up the natural process and would still take a long time to heal a proper wound. You, Gareth, were merely scratched.”

Gareth sighed admiringly. “Wow. I can’t imagine just being able to fix people like that. I mean, I’m learning from one of our healers how to patch up wounds, but I wish I could just magically heal people.”

“Well… some people aren’t as fond of it as you are,” Elena said sullenly.

Gareth paused. He understood her meaning. He nodded in quiet, awkward sympathy, and soon thought of a different question.

“Where does it come from?” he asked.

“Magic? Inside me, I suppose.”

“No, I mean, how did you get magic? Where does it come from?”

“Oh, right,” Elena understood. “Well, I inherited it from our mother. I learned most of what I know from her.”

“And is Cerris a sorcerer too?”

“No, she isn’t,” Elena shook her head. “I was born with it. Cerris wasn’t.”

“Oh. That must be disappointing for her,” Gareth said before he caught himself. “Oops. Sorry, Cerris. That was rude.”

“No problem,” Cerris called back. “I could still beat her in a fight.”

“She’s not wrong,” Elena agreed, “but once I learn how to use a weapon-”

Elena was cut off as Cerris stopped. Past the trees, they could see a cottage. Gareth moved between them, still pulling the cow behind, and his face lit up. He strode forward, Clara keeping pace.

With a tense glance to each other, the girls left the safety of the trees.

They found themselves on a farm. It sat past the edge of a town, with a long stretch of road between the farm and the town proper. The town looked pretty standard, all grey and dusty buildings with mud roads between them, and behind the town, a colossal, flat-top mountain loomed, its sheer cliffs pressed against the town’s rear edge like a grey backdrop.

The girls turned back to the farm. At its centre was a cottage which was surrounded on three sides by fields and pens of animals. The cottage was big enough to be mistaken for a barn, if not for the smoking chimney. Chickens and sheep made confused noises as Gareth approached, and the girls followed at a short distance, eyeing their surroundings carefully.

A man was knelt next to one of the pens, who stood to inspect the noise. He was tall and muscled, with tanned skin from days working in the sun. A tidy beard decorated his chin, covering his mouth and dangling in a short braid. His hair was short too, apart from one long plait which reached down to his shoulders. He wore a shirt and trousers of a thick durable fabric, all uncoloured plain-brown. It sat in contrast to the royal blue belt around his waist which was adorned with golden thread. Seed bags hung from the belt like coin purses, dangling next to a sheathed broadsword.

Gareth stopped a few paces away, about to speak, before the man got there first.

“And where have you been all morning, young man?” he asked, his voice calm and deep even as his tone was scolding. He tapped a foot impatiently.

“I’m sorry, father. One of the cows got loose, I must have left the gate open last night and it got out, so I went to find it,” Gareth explained.

“And where, pray tell, did you venture that it took you all morning?” Gareth’s father looked down at him. Then he glanced in the direction his son had arrived from, ignoring Cerris and Elena, eyes landing on the tree-line. He returned to Gareth, wide eyed.

“Father-” Gareth tried to answer first.

“The forest? You went into those woods by yourself?” he erupted.

“I didn’t want to bother you, and I didn’t think the cow would be too far in. I could get her back and you’d never know. I’m sorry.”

“Forget the cow, Gareth. What about you? Those woods are riddled with predators. Who knows what could have happened.” He knelt down and gave his son a quick look over for injuries. “We can always buy a new cow, Gareth, even one as good as Clara.”

“But it was my fault,” Gareth murmured.

“And I’d have understood, but if anything ever happened to you…” He couldn’t finish the sentence. He hugged his boy.

“I was in good hands on the way back,” Gareth croaked from within his father’s arms. His father released him, taking notice of Cerris and Elena for the first time.

 “I’m guessing you two are the ones who brought my son home safe?” he beckoned.

“Yes, sir. It wasn’t much trouble,” Cerris stepped forward.

“Well, you have my thanks all the same. My name is Bardor Everett,” the farmer introduced.

“I’m Cerris and this is my sister Elena.”

“A pleasure to meet you, sir.” Elena gave a courtly bow.

“Well, please, come inside. It must have been some journey,” Bardor gestured to the cottage. “Gareth? Show them in,” he prompted, as he grabbed Clara’s rope and led the cow away to a nearby field. Gareth gestured for the girls to follow him in.

They entered into a front room which was warm and well-decorated. The room was dominated by a dining table with a half-dozen chairs surrounding it, cabinets pressed against some of the walls full of books and trinkets, and a stone fireplace burned in the corner, the chimney running up into the ceiling.

Elena wandered around the room, inspecting the furniture. She cooed at some of the finer elements, with velvet cushions and little bits of inset filigree. Cerris stood by one of the windows and peaked out. Bardor had finished dragging Clara to her paddock, and as he returned, he pulled seeds from the pouches on his belt, scattering them in the fields. Cerris turned back to Elena, who was staring at the tablecloth.

“Have a seat if you like,” Gareth offered. His tone was edged with nerves, his eyes glancing to the window. Cerris walked over and stood near the table, feeling too awkward to sit in a stranger’s house. Elena was still inspecting the fabric.

“Learning a lot from that tablecloth?” Cerris elbowed her.

Elena snapped out of her daze and stood up straight. “It’s quite a nice fabric. Fine quality,” she coughed abashedly.

“It was a gift from a seamstress in town,” Gareth elucidated. “Most of the furniture is a gift from one person or another.”

“What? Really?” Elena glanced around at the other bits of finery.

Before she could ask further, Bardor entered the room. He stepped past Gareth, walked over to the table, and pulled out a chair to sit down. Then he looked over to Gareth, who approached and stood before him.

“Gareth. You should not have wandered into that forest,” he said, his voice cold and judgemental, his face stern.

Gareth nodded.

“You could have been hurt, or worse. These two seem to understand the dangers of the forest.” He gestured to Cerris. “Do you see how she carries a weapon?”

Gareth nodded again.

“Now, I realise you were trying to help, but that does not excuse your actions. As punishment… you are going to have to prepare all the meals for the next two weeks. Is that understood?”

“Yes, father,” Gareth nodded rapidly.

“Good. Now, these ladies might be thirsty. Fetch some drinks, would you?” Bardor’s tone relaxed.

“Yes, father,” Gareth said again, hurrying off to the kitchen. He sighed in relief as he left.

After a pause, Bardor turned to the two girls. “I’m sorry for any inconvenience my son has caused you. This must have led you quite astray, helping him get back here.”

“It’s no problem,” Cerris dismissed.

“Well, I thank you anyway,” Bardor insisted. “So, what purpose had you travelling through those woods? Whatever distance my boy has diverted you, I must pay you for your time.”

Gareth returned with a collection of tankards. “They live in the woods, father, in a camp a few hours north of here,” he described, passing the cups between everyone.

“They live in the woods? Those woods? The Greenveil Woods?” Bardor doubted.

“If that’s what you call them,” Cerris shrugged, distractedly inspecting her water. “We’ve never really needed a name for it.”

Bardor quirked an eyebrow. “You truly live in the Greenveil woods? Genuinely? I lose a chicken a month to the foxes alone, let alone the wolves and bears I hear live in there. Traders and merchants tend to just go around it rather than risk becoming prey. And you live there?”

“It’s true, Mr Everett,” Elena confirmed. “In fact, we were both born out there. We’ve lived there all our lives, barring the occasional trips to Greenwood. It’s our home. But it isn’t quite as bad as you describe,” she smiled.

“Well I never…” Bardor looked between them, perplexed. “How strange. I’ve honestly never heard anything about people living out there. I always thought those woods were too dangerous to walk through, let alone live. And you’ve never visited Dragonridge before?”

“We’ve never come this far south before,” Cerris said carefully, sipping her drink. “And don’t worry about paying us. We wanted to come. We have business of our own.”

“You’ve never visited Dragonridge before…” Bardor rubbed his chin. “Well, if you won’t take coin, then I can only see one way to repay you.”

Cerris and Elena looked at each other uncertainly.

“The town is always glad of visitors, though they admittedly aren’t common. If you won’t accept coin, we could at least do you the courtesy of showing you around. As payment for your help. What do you say?”

“If you insist,” Cerris accepted, but looked to Elena, who nodded in agreement.

“We’d be glad to,” Gareth grinned. “Now, is there anywhere in particular you wanted to visit?”

* * *

The little group walked into town following the dirt road. It took about twenty minutes, as Cerris and Elena stuck together, while Bardor led the way and Gareth swung back and forth between them.

As they entered the town, the dirt road became muddy streets with buildings either side. The houses were mismatched, some made of old brick, some made of rural planks and logs. Some were tall with multiple floors while others were bungalows barely tall enough to stand in.

As they reached the streets, passersby greeted Bardor, who responded in kind. The girls had seen similar, ordinary looking people in Greenwood, but they were still cautious of the strangers, their parents warning lingering in their ears. Even so, they proceeded without incident. After a little while, they came to a stop at a crossroads, with varied buildings on all sides. All eyes were drawn to one building, which rose before them, much larger than the others.

“This is the town hall,” Bardor gestured. “From here, Mayor Wilsh runs the town. Laws are written, court is held, and the rich stay rich,” he mocked.

The town hall was extravagant, especially in comparison to the ratty neighbouring buildings. Made of rich oak and red brick, it stood three stories high and significantly broader than anything around it. Some effort had been made to position wooden gargoyles and other statuary decorations, but most of it had been rain washed into disrepair. Massive oaken pillars held up the lip of the first floor, and lead crossed windows littered the façade the whole way up. The outside was also much cleaner than the surrounding buildings, with the exception of some soot and dust.

Cerris nodded, attempting to both look interested and watch her surroundings, while Elena politely listened to Bardor’s directions.

“Now, this is the main crossroads for the town,” Bardor began. “Most roads lead back here sooner or later. Down there-” He gestured to his left- “are various clothes and fabric merchants. The next street leads back the way we came. It’s mainly housing down there. That way-”

“Bardor!” a voice called. Bardor stopped and turned to see a stocky, muscular man approaching. He was wearing heavy clothes and a thick apron, his beard stained with soot. “There you are, Bardor,” he sighed.

“Smithy? What brings you away from your forge?”

“That you aren’t there,” Smithy said gravely. “The mayor needs that armour finished by end of day, and you promised to help me sort it.”

“By the heavens,” Bardor cursed through gritted teeth. “Sorry, Smithy. I’ve been busy. I’ll be with you in a moment.” He turned to his son. “Gareth, I have to go. I shouldn’t be more than a few hours. I hope you can look after these two while I’m gone?” He gestured to the girls.

“I’ll be fine, father. Take care,” Gareth wished.

“You as well,” Bardor smiled, before hurrying off with Smithy.

Elena watched the pair disappear. “My my,” she said. “He is a busy man.”

“Oh, yes. Always someone to help,” Gareth nodded. “But, while he’s gone, we should get started. So, where do you want to…” He stopped. “Cerris? What’s the matter?”

Cerris wasn’t listening. She was staring fixedly at a building across the way, fingers picking at the back of one of her gloves. The building was made of smooth grey stone, like it had been carved from a single piece of granite taken straight from the quarry. The walls sloped up, the building being basically triangular, as it stood in contrast to its boxy, shabby neighbours. A massive set of oaken doors hung open, welcoming anyone inside. Cerris stared at it with a lump in her throat.

“You alright, Cerris?” Gareth asked.

“What?” She stirred her brain. “Um… sure, I’m fine. It’s just… Is that your temple to the divines?” she asked. Her stomach churned as a cold weight formed in her heart.

“Oh, yes,” Gareth said brightly, not seeing Cerris’s nerves. “You said you wanted to see it, didn’t you?”

“It’s why we’re here, honestly,” Elena prompted, moving up to hold Cerris’s hand.

Cerris gripped Elena’s hand tightly, but tried to hide her face. She could feel her blood rushing from her cheeks into her toes. Forcing a smile, she turned to her sister.

“You two stay here. I won’t be a moment,” she said, trotting towards the temple, hands by her sides to resist clutching at the divine symbols beneath her gloves.

Cerris entered the monolithic building, the interior lit by candles ensconced in lanterns. The pews were made of fine wood, carved with ornate patterns of trees and branches. She approached the altar, looking up at the mural behind it. The carving depicted three mythical figures, the three of them combined covering the entire wall. One was a tall, cloaked man, shrouded in shadows, or in this case carved of a darker stone, with ravens flapping behind him. Opposite him was a woman, bright as the sun, carved in sandstone, leaping with deer and sparrows. They each stood at the edges, facing inwards. Facing the third figure.

The third figure was a silhouette, standing taller than the other two spirits, arms extended out to the very edges of the mural. The figure’s skin was dotted with stars, and their eyes were the sun and the moon, depicted as a spiked circle and a crescent respectively.

But Cerris had seen such a thing before. It was just a much larger version of their little shrine at home, which was just a little woodcut with a prayer written on the back. And it was more detailed than the one in Greenwood, though she had rarely been in there.

Cerris knelt down in respect.

“Dear Holy Father of Skies, grant me wisdom,” she prayed to the central figure.

“Feel free to sit if you wish,” a nearby man spoke up. He was hunched and old, and wearing a traditional holy man’s robes, white with two purple sashes hung across his chest. The old man tried to hobble over, before Cerris decided to spare him the trip and went to him.

“Are you a preacher here?” she asked.

“I do my best,” the clergyman greeted.

“Then, may I ask you something. What do you know about the powers of Aheazal and Zaheal?” She fidgeted with her gloves.

“Well, what do you need to know?”

“Everything you can tell me,” she begged, her voice close to cracking.

The preacher took a moment, but could see she was serious. “Well,” he ruminated. “Aheazal is the spirit of darkness, mystery and knowledge. We pray to him for wisdom and insight. He is a guardian of knowledge, and it is believed he has the ability to hide secrets, but also uncover those secrets through his darkness. For those that praise him, his symbols are the veil, the shadow, and the raven.”

“Mysteries and knowledge,” Cerris muttered to herself. She rubbed the back of her right hand without realising it.

“In partnership and opposition is Zaheal. She embodies light and ambition. A being of will and might. She is believed to have the ability to see into the deepest shadow, and to never tire no matter her efforts. She is the giver of willpower and truth. Because of this, we pray to her for revelation and strength in dire times, as her light is said to dispel illusion and bring hope. Her symbols are the horse, the sun, and the sword.”

“Willpower and truth?” Cerris repeated, less certain.

“That’s right, young miss,” the preacher continued. “Finally, there is the Father of Skies, sole parent to Aheazal and Zaheal, and the one above all others,” he gestured grandly. “The Father watches over this world, and is guardian to all the grand dominions of the heavens. He guides us through subtle winds and pouring rain and the blessed sun. The Father protects us, we weary souls, and we pray to him in hopes of a better dawn.”

Cerris contemplated what she’d heard. It wasn’t much help, and she vaguely knew much of it from her youth. She rubbed her hands, feeling the scars beneath her gloves.

“Preacher… Do you know anything about the gods giving their power to mortals?” she asked. While she held her composure, her heart pounded in her chest. Cold dread filled her gut. Fearful possibilities battled in her brain. Horrors and terrors and curses. The old preacher only took a minute, stroking his chin, but it felt much longer.

“I have heard of such things,” he began, “The gods have been known to bestowed their power on mortals, but alas, all I know is that there are stories of it. Myths and fables of spirits, aiding and cursing mortal men. Unfortunately, I can’t recall any of the details at the moment, and I’m not sure if we have any texts on the subject. To be honest, this isn’t the most stocked temple when it comes to ancient writings. My apologies.”

“Oh…” Cerris said disappointedly. “That’s all you know?”

“Sorry,” the old man said kindly.

“Okay. Thanks anyway…” she stammered, and sat in a pew.

Her heart fell. A new coiling tension writhed in her gut. There was still something inside her. Something that wasn’t her.

Cerris realised she was shaking, her heart like a drum. It was like a predator had been stalking her, and then it had just… stopped. The empty dread of not knowing whether to be scared or not. Her thoughts ran out of control. What power lay inside her? Had she been cursed, blessed, or some other thing? Was it dangerous? Why give it to her? What did the gods want with her?

“Are you alright, miss?” the old man queried, snapping Cerris from her worries.

 “I’m… I’m fine,” she nodded. “Thank you.” She forced a polite smile, then turned and headed for the door.

The blessings itched at her thoughts. Their meaning, their purpose, their power. She plodded back towards the door, where Elena stood waiting.

Elena walked up, gave her a soft smile, and hugged her. Cerris relaxed into her arms.

 “Are you okay?” Elena asked.

 “I don’t know. I really don’t. I guess we’ll have to wait and see,” Cerris sighed.

 Elena pulled back and nodded. “Trust in the gods, I suppose. Divines watch over us,” she tried to soothe.

Cerris looked back at the grand mural behind the altar. “Honestly, I’ve never had too much faith in the gods. Not after what happened to Mum and Dad…”

“Cerris…” Elena put a hand on her arm.

“…but I’ll trust in them for now, if you say so,” Cerris accepted. “No worries. Not now anyway. For now, we have a new town to explore, right?”

“Right,” Elena affirmed with a comforting smile. “No worries.”

Gareth stood waiting, having not pressed for details when Elena excused herself. He met the girls as they returned, Cerris hanging an arm around Elena’s shoulders, both of them smiling.

“So, where to now?” Cerris said, glad of the distraction.

“Well, there’s a number of places we could go,” Gareth said openly.

“Could we take a closer look at the town hall?” Elena requested. “It’s quite an impressive building.”

Cerris sniggered. “Wow. You really are wild, aren’t you?”

Elena pouted. “Well, it can’t hurt to take a look, can it?”

“It is the hub of important business in town,” Gareth said alluringly.

Cerris rolled her eyes. “If you insist,” she conceded, following them across the square. As they passed, she looked up to a sign hanging from a post outside. Its symbols were indistinct to her, but were marked in a fine gold paint. She recognised one or two of the letters but didn’t spend much effort on it.  She assumed it read “Town Hall”.

They passed through and stood in the main hall. While the outside had been grand, it was still rough and patched together in places, like its neighbours. The interior was a marked difference. Marble pillars lined the hall and crystal lanterns illuminated the walls. Rows of simple chairs covered the floor, all facing a podium with a lectern, which was carved from a varnished dark wood and adorned with silver filigree.

As they took in the space, a servant shuffled out of a side door followed by a well-dressed young man. The young man berated the servant, then sighed and sent him on his way.

“This place is gorgeous,” Elena grinned, admiring the pillars.

“By the skies,” Cerris swore, more surprised by the grandeur.

“This is the oldest building in town,” Gareth explained. “Other buildings have burned down or have fallen into disrepair, but this one still stands strong. And so, the mayor lives here and uses it to hold court and have town meetings.”

“Well, it certainly is impressive,” Elena observed.

Cerris nodded, unable to argue, staring up at the patterns painted on the ceiling.

“It is,” Gareth said with a tone. “To be honest though, most people around here think it’s a tad extravagant.”

“Only those peasants who lack good taste,” a voice argued. “So, what can we do for you today, Gareth Everett?”

They turned to see the well-dressed young man. His tone rang with pomposity, and he wore a broad smile like a mask.

“We don’t need anything, Tiber,” Gareth sighed. “I’m just showing some visitors around town. Nothing to concern yourself with.”

Tiber didn’t seem deterred, though he did take notice of the two girls. He inspected them both, looking them up and down, before returning his focus to Gareth.

“Are you certain you’re best suited to that task, Gareth? Surely, these ladies would prefer to be shown the joys of our town by someone who actually has a hand in running it.” He grinned, condescension radiating off him.

“Tiber, can you just-” Gareth began, before Tiber simply stepped past him towards Elena.

“Charmed, my dear lady,” Tiber greeted, raising Elena’s hand to kiss it. As his lips approached her skin, Elena realised what was happening and pulled her arm back. He didn’t break stride however, and stood up straight, grinning. Cerris looked him over.

He was nimbly built, around his early twenties, and from his face and body alone some might have considered him handsome. That was if not for the rest of his image. He had pale blonde hair, cut neatly, but it was greasy and matted, perhaps from some product. His clothes were of a similar nature. The articles themselves were a fine jacket and buttoned shirt, with various gold buttons. Unfortunately, the image was ruined by the fabric, all course and tough material. Not strong or durable for purpose, but worn and dull coloured. There appeared to be some attempt at red and yellow dyes to brighten it, but they were washed out and faded, the fabric nearly frayed to its limits. He stood in his false grandeur and bowed to Elena.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me, Gareth?” he commanded.

Gareth sighed again. “Cerris, Elena, this is Tiber Wilsh. He’s the son of the mayor.”

“Charmed, my lady,” Tiber preened. “I’m guessing you are Elena?” he spoke solely to her.

“Yes?” Elena answered cautiously.

“I knew it. No one as beautiful as you could ever have a name as simple as Cerris.” He smiled another empty smile, not turning to see Cerris react. Cerris just raised an eyebrow in disbelief, while Gareth watched her cautiously.

“I think my sister’s name is quite pretty,” Elena argued. “A name to be chronicled in history.”

“Recorded as a footnote to you,” he parried in a manner he seemed to think was charming.

“Maybe it’s recorded for slapping the mayor’s son,” Cerris muttered. Gareth withheld laughter, as Tiber noted it with a glare. He returned his focus to Elena.

“Now, Elena, would you like me to show you around this wonderful town of ours?” he asked. Elena considered the offer for a minute.

“Sorry, no,” she answered curtly. “We already have Gareth to guide us, but thank you for the offer.”

“Oh, but this fool doesn’t know anything,” Tiber continued, oozing his so-called charm.

Elena looked to Gareth, as if to assess him. “He seems to know his way around.”

“But Elena, it would be a much more… private tour. Just the two of us,” Tiber purred seductively. Cerris suddenly felt nauseous.

“But I don’t want to go alone,” Elena rebuffed. “I’m here with my sister, who you haven’t even given the time of day to,” she added, sounding every bit the offended aristocrat. “That is very impolite of you.”

“My apologies,” he uttered, then turned towards Cerris. “Good day, madam,” he said, then returned to Elena.

Cerris rolled her eyes and decided to end this. “Alright, sir, but we are a bit busy today,” she said, pushing past Tiber. Tiber stuck out an arm to stop her.

“I’m not done,” he said annoyed.

Cerris grinned. “Yes-” She forced him aside, causing him to stumble. “-You are. We’ve got our guide. You can get back to your important business. And, of course, you must be very busy, being as important as you are.”

“But-”

“Good day, Mr Wilsh,” Elena called back as she headed for the door.

Gareth hurried past Tiber to join the girls. Together, they all wandered out, leaving Tiber to fume by himself.

The air outside bit with cold as they left, but Gareth beamed the moment they were out of sight, as Cerris and Elena hurried to gain some distance from the hall.

“What an unsettling man,” Elena shuddered.

“Sorry about him,” Gareth apologised, still smiling. “Should have realised he would come over just to mock me.”

“Not your fault,” Cerris reassured. “Though he does seem to have a problem with you… or is he just that rude to everyone?”

“He’s rude to everyone, but he’s always been annoyed by me and my father. Jealous, I’d wager. Everyone around here respects my father more than they respect Mayor Wilsh.”

“They do?”

“Oh yes. Tiber can’t stand that some farmer and his son are who people go to for help, and not the man who actually holds court.”

“Why is that?” Elena asked. “I’m not trying to say your father isn’t important, but…”

“He’s not the mayor,” Cerris finished for her.

“Precisely.”

“Well, it’s been like that for as long as I can remember,” Gareth reflected. “Father’s a good man, and people respect him for that, while Wilsh is a wretched old coot. But, looking back, I suppose it all started the last time the dragons attacked.”

Cerris and Elena froze, wide eyed.

Gareth looked confused. “What’s wrong?”

“Dragons?” Cerris checked she’d heard him right.

“Well, yes. Why did you think it was called Dragonridge?” he said casually.

“As in, big, fire-breathing, flying lizards?” she clarified.

“Yes?” Gareth continued to look puzzled.

“You’re saying there are real dragons here?” Elena worried, clutching at her dress and watching the sky above. “I thought you said this town was safe.”

Gareth stopped for a moment. Finally, he smirked and laughed as he realised. “Oh, that! No, there’s nothing to worry about,” he reassured. “Sorry to have frightened you, but we’re not in any danger. The dragons don’t just attack the town, or at least they haven’t done so for a long time. What I’m talking about happened decades ago, when my father was a young man, long before the three of us were even born.”

 “Really?” Cerris checked one last time. Gareth smiled and nodded. Cerris relaxed and unclenched, and Elena straightened up, as if nothing had happened.

“The dragons live up on Dragon’s Peak,” Gareth explained, pointing up towards the mountain which loomed over the village. “There’s maybe a few dozen of them. Occasionally you can spot one, but other than that…” He paused and seemed to rethink his sentence.

“Are you sure? How are fire breathing lizards not a problem?” Cerris said doubtfully.

“We’ve only heard stories of such things,” Elena stressed. “Tales of giant serpents, big as mountains, and the knights who run to slay them. Princes rescuing maidens from scaly claws, and fiends that can melt steel with a breath. Honestly, I don’t think I ever considered them real,” she confessed.

“Well, they are real, but they aren’t the size of a mountain,” Gareth corrected. “Sure, they’re big, but not that big. Maybe about the size of a house at their largest. There are dozens of them up there, and they’re all different. Colours, shapes, sizes. And they aren’t constantly being fought off by princes either. We have…” he paused. “We have other methods to stop them. We should keep exploring,” he said distractedly as he led them down the street.

“If you say so,” Cerris said uncertainly, eyeing the mountain.

They marched on, Gareth leading and looking for some new destination. When it had been quiet for a few minutes, Elena pranced up to his shoulder.

“So… What did your father do to make everyone love him? Did he slay one of those beasts?”

Gareth blinked, then shook his head. “Oh, no, it was nothing like that. I don’t think anyone’s ever killed one. No, my father was just a young man who saved a lot of lives that day.”

“How so?” Cerris came up to his other shoulder.

 “Well, from what I’ve read, the dragon attack was terrifying. Burned houses, ruined crops, many people injured or dead. And during the chaos of it all, the fire spread to a building where many people were sheltering. They would have sheltered in the town hall, but the mayor at the time sealed the doors to save his own oily hide, leaving everyone else to die.” Gareth spat in disapproval.

“He sounds awful,” Elena commented.

“He was. Father meanwhile leapt into the burning building by himself and tried to help the people to safety, even in the middle of the bombardment. Putting himself at risk, he used his broadsword and cut his way through to save them. It’s said that the moment those people were safe, the dragons just left. Some people even say it was because they were afraid of a man such as my father.”

“Quite a tale,” Cerris said simply.

“He really is a hero,” Elena admired.

“It also explains why your dad carries a sword, despite being a farmer,” Cerris noted.

“Yeah. He still carries it to remind people they can trust him, as apposed to the mayor,” Gareth said proudly. “And, ever since that day, people refuse to trust the seat of mayor, even since Wilsh took over. They trust the man that saved them instead.”

“Gareth? Why doesn’t your father just become mayor?” Elena enquired. “I believe it’s an elected position, correct?”

“Oh, he doesn’t like the responsibility of it,” Gareth dismissed. “He may like to help people, and he is quite wise, but he couldn’t run the town. Property disputes, legal matters, sentencing criminals. He prefers his work on the farm and helping out where he can in town, like helping Smithy, or settling the occasional petty argument.”

“Are there a lot of petty arguments?”

“Well, Mr and Mrs Baker often fight over how to best sell their breads. And those debates can get quite vicious,” he smirked.

“Saving the town and dealing with angry bakers. Truly a hero,” Cerris snickered.

Their walk reached a crossroads and Gareth decided they would head left, back behind the town hall, towards the mountain. As they turned, Cerris noticed a structure in the distance.

It was a raised wooden platform. The platform was on struts, only a few feet off the ground, with a large wooden pole through the centre, which stood about twice the height of a man. It looked recently built, the wood pale and unstained by rain. Despite people walking past, they all passed on the other side of the street. It had been constructed at the furthest edge of the town, with only the mountain wall behind it.

“What’s that?” Cerris pointed.

Gareth looked up and visibly clenched. “It’s… It’s part of what keeps us safe from the dragons. It’s nothing to worry about,” he dismissed and went silent.

Cerris and Elena could each feel the tension. Even so, they silently decided not to press.

Gareth didn’t relax until they were well past the structure and around a corner. Then he spoke, as if changing a non-existent subject. “Hey. It’s getting close to evening. How about we visit the pub?”

The sun was going down, but the sky wasn’t even orange yet. Even so, with a nod, the girls followed, glad of something a little more familiar.

* * *

The tavern was located in an old, wooden building on the far side of town. It was large enough for a few dozen patrons, with simple tables scattered around for seating. The bar and its barkeep rested against one wall as a fire burned in an open hearth opposite. It was currently a little early for most people’s days to have ended, so most of the tables were empty. There were a few idle townsfolk, one already sleeping at his table, but none of them noticed the trio. Gareth stood at the counter, waiting for the barman to pour some ale. Pressing the tankards together, he carried the cups to where Cerris and Elena were sat.

“Lovely place,” Cerris said falsely.

“It may not be so glamorous, but it serves its purpose,” Gareth retorted.

Elena eyed the décor harshly. “I’d hope so.”

“Here are your drinks.” Gareth put down the tankards. “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” the girls answered, then took sips of their drinks. They placed them down on the table silently. Cerris’s mouth twisted, while Elena’s nose scrunched up against the taste.

“I’ve had worse,” Cerris said eventually, her voice strained. “It’ll do.”

“It’s quite bitter,” Elena followed up. “Should it be?”

“I don’t know,” Gareth shrugged. “It’s all they serve. Don’t worry. It grows on you.”

“Then it’ll do,” she agreed reluctantly.

The three sat and drank for some time as they talked. Gareth explained what he knew about the town, such as interesting local residents. The blacksmith, who Bardor sometimes worked with. The family of tanners who had a constant bounty of one thousand gold for a dragon hide. The various little dramas and feuds.

In response, the girls told some stories of their lives. Battles with wolves. Friends they had made in Greenwood. The delicious ale and mead served there. Every few stories were accompanied by another round of drinks, which, true to Gareth’s word, did start to grow on them. After the third round they were already giggling.

Outside, the night was beginning to settle as a clock tower rang seven chimes. The door to the bar swung open and a figure entered, accompanied by two others. The man surveyed the bar, then wandered straight over to the group’s table.

“My dear ladies,” Tiber greeted, his two burly friends remaining silent. “I see you still choose to spend your time with this meagre boy, when you could spend it with a true man.” He put up his collar and puffed out his chest as if to illustrate the point.

“Go away, Tiber,” Gareth groaned.

Tiber ignored him. “Elena, a woman such as yourself should not have to drink such slop in such squalor.” He looked disgustedly at the cups. “You should join me and my father upstairs for a drink of wine.”

“I must refuse, Tiber, but thank you,” Elena said politely. She didn’t even look at him.

“I don’t think you understand,” Tiber resumed. “This will be fine wine, a vintage fit for kings. A delicacy. Infinitely more enjoyable than this bitter swill.”

“I’m starting to enjoy it,” she countered, looking into her cup. “It has a kick to it.”

“But, my lady…” He glanced around as if trying to hide something. “A woman of such refinement as yourself, dressed as you are, cannot be seen with the scum of this town.”

Gareth looked offended but Elena continued to sit. She finally deigned to look at him.

“I don’t know, Tiber. I like them,” she said, speaking with perfect diction. “And who am I to talk? I was born and raised in the woods,” she said, complete with fancy accent.

Tiber took a second to respond. After a long pause, he laughed.

“Oh, very good. You are a funny one, Elly,” he chuckled.

“Don’t call me Elly,” she snapped, rounding on him, eyes burning. Tiber took a step back.

“My apologies,” he recovered. “But you must join us upstairs. My father is waiting for us.”

“She said no, Tiber. Leave it alone,” Gareth said loudly.

“Ah, that must be it.” Tiber snapped his fingers. “You must not want to embarrass these two by up and leaving them alone together. They’re the ones keeping you here,” he smiled unpleasantly.

“I choose to be here of my own free will, thank you,” Elena answered. “And you continue to be rude to my sister and my friend.”

“There you go again, trying to protect these little peasants’ feelings.” He leant on Gareth’s shoulder. Gareth winced.

Cerris sat quietly, eyeing Tiber’s brawny cohorts.

“Maybe if my boys here take them somewhere, then you could join me without guilt.” He kept smiling.

Without a further word, one of Tiber’s friends grabbed Gareth by the arm. At first he was trying to guide him from his stool, but it quickly escalated to dragging.

“Let him go, you brute!” Elena called out.

The other man went to grab Elena, but no sooner had his hand touched her arm than Cerris got to her feet. Her shield rattled against her armour. She placed a hand on her axe, stopping when it was a couple of hands out of her belt. Tiber’s friend saw the axe. He saw Cerris. He saw her blank, cold expression. Both men let go and backed away, hiding behind Tiber.

“You idiots. If you want something done,” Tiber muttered and reached out, wrapping a hand around Elena’s arm.

Elena stared daggers. She reached down, grabbed her tankard, and whacked it squarely into his cheek. He recoiled and stumbled back, but Elena stood and advanced, pursuing him. The entire tavern was watching by this point, every eye and chair turned to them.

“You pathetic snake,” she growled. “I tried to be polite with you, but you didn’t seem to get the message. As such, here it is, put as simply as I can. Leave. Me. Alone.”

She punctuated her statement by throwing what remained of her drink in his face. It splashed over his head and his clothes, and without waiting for his response, she turned and returned to her table.

Tiber stood baffled in the centre of the tavern. He slowly became aware of everyone watching him, some of them laughing. With a huff, he turned and left, storming away with his two friends. As they left, he hissed to himself.

“I’ll make that harlot pay for this.”

* * *

The night continued undisturbed as the trio sat at their table. An hour or so later, after another new round of drinks, Cerris and Elena sat staring at each other, tankards in hand. Gareth watched, bemused.

“You ready?” Cerris asked competitively.

“As long as you are,” Elena grinned.

“Then after the count of three.”

“Alright then.”

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three!”

At once, both girls lifted their cups and began drinking as fast as they could. Gareth watched as they gulped down their beverages. Drink dribbled from the corners of Cerris’s mouth while Elena looked as prim and proper as ever. Twenty seconds later, the first cup was slammed upside down to prove its emptiness.

“Victory!” Elena celebrated. Cerris was still drinking and pulled the tankard away from her lips, gasping for air.

“I still do not know how you do that,” she spluttered.

“Undefeated!” Elena added, as all three burst into giddy laughter. Gareth was the first to stop as he had drunk less over the course of the evening.

“I hope you girls are enjoying yourselves,” another voice broke over the laughter. Bardor was stood beside the table, smiling. “You three have a good day?”

“Yes, father,” Gareth replied. “It’s been fun.”

“That’s good to hear. But for now, Gareth, you have some dinner to make.” He ruffled Gareth’s hair, then turned to Cerris and Elena. “And you two girls. Bit late to be travelling back to your camp, I’d suppose. There’s an empty house on the far side of town, and I’ve paid to let you stay the night if you want.”

“You didn’t have to,” Cerris responded, blinking tiredly. Then she yawned.

“I insist. Gareth repaid you today with his tour-”

“And the drinks,” Cerris added. Gareth nodded in agreement.

“His tour and the drinks. I’m repaying you now. Follow me.” Bardor signalled to follow. After a short pause to down the last of their ales, the three stood and joined him.

They wandered across town, the streets lit by burning torches and the moon above. The group chatted and giggled, stumbling as they walked. Finally, they reached an old house not far from the town hall, near the cross roads at the rear of the town. Bardor opened the door and let the girls inside.

“There are bedclothes and water in there for you,” he said kindly. “Now, Gareth and I must be getting home.”

“Goodnight, girls,” Gareth waved before following his father away.

Inside, the girls found two beds with fresh linens and a candle to light the room. One of them changed into their bed clothes in the other room, then the other. Very little was said between tiredness and drink flooding their heads. They both lay in their beds and relaxed. In the quiet, Elena spoke first.

“Hey, Cerris?”

“Yeah?” Cerris answered sleepily.

“Seeing Bardor and Gareth together is really sweet.”

“Yeah,” Cerris agreed blearily.

“It makes me miss Mum and Dad,” Elena admitted. Cerris didn’t answer. “Do you miss them as well?”

“All the time,” Cerris said quietly.

“Alright then,” Elena nodded. “Love you, Cerris. Goodnight.”

“Love you too,” Cerris answered, before blowing out the candle.

*  *  *

Shapes and images swirled and shifted. Dark clouds like mist and smoke.

The vision became a deep dark cavern. Images painted upon the wall. Silence in the stone.

A swirling flame of blue and green and red. Something inside. Something fighting.

Something sealed. The words on walls inscribed. Something breaking free.

She knew the images. She had seen them in her dreams before.

She could hear a voice shouting.

“Cerris!”

*  *  *

Cerris awoke with a start. She looked at her surroundings, surprised that she didn’t recognise them, then looked at the bed beside her. It was empty, with bed clothes folded and placed on the pillow. Elena had clearly woken early and gone out. Cerris climbed out of bed and stood, her armour laying out nearby. She just about recalled what had awoken her. A voice calling.

It called again.

“Cerris!” Elena screamed. “Help me!”

Cerris didn’t hesitate for a moment. She sprinted from the room and out of the house. She looked back and forth like a frantic animal, trying to pin down the sound. It didn’t take long. A large crowd was gathered at the far end of the street, surrounding the wooden platform they had seen the day before. Someone was tied to the stake.

Cerris sprinted towards the scene. The wind rushed over her as she went but she didn’t slow down. Elena kept calling for help, yet the crowd just stood and watched. One of the crowd happened to spot Cerris hurtling towards them. They warned the others. The crowd parted to let her pass, just as several guards in armour, wielding spears, charged to meet her.

The first guard was too far to stop Cerris at her current speed. The second attempted to block her path, but she pranced around him. Cerris suddenly became very aware she’d forgotten her axe and shield. The third guard tried to stop her with his spear, but she leapt aside, keeping momentum, struggling against the slippery mud of the road. The final two guards crossed their spears to block her. With a swift movement, Cerris fell and slid on her side between them. She converted her slide into a roll and returned to her feet. She was so close. She could hear the guards behind her, but she was yards away now.

Someone in the crowd screamed.

From the stake, Elena looked hopefully at her. But something was wrong. Cerris couldn’t hear the guards anymore. She could only hear people in the distance, getting further away. Elena looked up and went wide eyed. She screamed as a vast shadow fell on her.

Something landed. A powerful blast of air slammed Cerris backwards into the mud. She struggled to face forwards, and saw the beast before her. It was colossal. Its body was the size of a small building, even without its tail, head and wings. The wings were long, leathery, and reached to either side of the road, resting on clawed wingtips. Its legs were small for its size, but each was still as big as a man, holding up its behemoth body. A serpentine tail sprang from its rear, swinging back and forth, spikes covering its entire length. Its neck was nearly as long, topped with a massive, fang filled maw, armoured with horns and more spikes. Tiny eyes gleamed from the sides of its head, each one emerald green, contrasting the cold bronze of its scales. Its head reared back, its maw opened, and it fired a jet of orange flame into the air above. Cerris flinched as the heat fell on her, drying the mud beneath her.

The dragon stood, perched on top of Elena and the wooden platform. Elena screamed. Then, with an ear-splitting roar, the dragon flapped its wings and launched clear into the sky, ripping the platform free and carrying the entire structure with it.

Cerris cried her sister’s name, as Elena disappeared into the clouds.

[lamuradex]

Signs of Light and Shadow - Book 1

Prologue - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

Prologue

The trees rustled, wind whispered through branches, and a loud crack echoed through the woods. Leaves shook and fell as a woodsman pulled back his axe and buried it in the trunk again. The wood creaked. The tree was as wide as the woodsman’s shoulders, but it was still giving way, chop by chop. With a final cut, it began to lean. The woodsman stepped back as the tree’s own weight tore its trunk, ripping and collapsing it, the oak falling with a grim, splintering groan.

“Timber!” he yelled over the noise.

The tree thumped heavily into the muddy forest floor. Birds fled from the disturbance and the woodsman raised his axe again, chopping the trunk into smaller, manageable pieces. Sweat covered his brow, blonde hair sticking to his forehead, he stopped to lean on his axe and catch his breath, drying his face on his tunic, a new pile of wood at his feet. Satisfied, he piled the wood onto a sled and pulled it away, leaving tracks in the forest floor as he went.

The sky was clouded and the air cool as he arrived at a large clearing. A woman sat at the centre, clothed in a long green dress, her black hair spilling about her shoulders. A bubbling pot sat in front of her with various vegetables and herbs beside her on a cloth. The cauldron’s fire cast a warm, flickering light, as the woman added another leaf to the stew, stirring, and quietly humming to herself.

“I’m back,” the woodsman announced.

“Oh!” she started, greeting him with a surprised smile. “I didn’t expect you so soon.”

The woodsman walked over and kissed her on the cheek. “I found a good tree. Enough for a few days.”

“Well, throw some on the fire then. It’s getting low and I need it hot for this stew.”

He did as requested, placing some wood on the fire, then put the rest under an awning to shield it from the weather. He then knelt and wrapped an arm around his beloved’s waist, planting another kiss on her cheek. She grinned and wrapped her arm around him in return.

“What are we cooking tonight?” he asked.

“Deer. I’ve added some herbs, but it’ll be pretty simple.”

“Deer is good enough for me, dear,” he smirked, releasing the hug and starting back towards the sled. “Tomorrow, I’ll see if I can track down something different. Maybe fish. That might make a change.”

“We have enough for now. No need to risk the journey.” She picked up a small sprig and scraped the leaves into the pot.

“No risk. Didn’t see a trace of wolves out there today,” he said, throwing a spare log from hand to hand. “They must have migrated to the western side of the woods.”

“That’s strange. Usually they’d be all over at this time of year.”

“Maybe something scared them off.”

She shot him a look. “Something scared the wolves… and you still want to go hunting?”

He smiled cheekily back. “Honey, I didn’t see hide nor hair of anything out there. Maybe it was a clan of hunters, maybe it was just a bear, but I should go hunting too while the getting’s good. It’s no trouble,” he assured.

“Well, if you want to go, then go,” she relented. “Just please, be careful.”

“You know I always- Car’zit!” he swore, dropping the log to suck one of his fingers. “Dra’am splinters.”

“Language! The girls are just inside,” she whispered, glancing towards a den built inside one of the larger trees trunks.

The woodsman took his finger from his mouth. “The girls alright? They’re usually a bit more energetic this time of day.”

“They’re fine. Elena just got stung by a nettle. She’s been sulking.”

“Poor thing. And Cerris?”

“She went out with me to pick some lemon flower, water fruit, and willow blossom. The old remedy. Elena didn’t like how it numbed her shoulder though and Cerris is just keeping her company until she can feel her hands again. She insisted on applying the mix herself.”

The woodsman nodded. “I’ll go see how they’re doing.”

“And set a good example. No more of that cursing,” his wife added with a teasing grin.

 He playfully brushed a hand through her hair as he passed, making his way to the large tree at the edge of the clearing. Hollowed out and dead, it was short but very broad, wide enough for a family to live inside. The door was an open gap with a blanket hung over it like a curtain, barely sheltering the inside from the cold.

The inside was lit by candles in little carved alcoves, which also provided a little extra warmth. Four chairs surrounded a small table in the centre while three beds sat against the walls, two on one side and a third wider bed on the other. On the far wall was a small wooden shrine, specifically lit with several candles, and across from that, beside the door, hung an old ornate shield. The shield bore a weathered emblem of a blue wolf standing before a red oak on a field of gold.

“So, how are my two favourite girls doing?” the father beamed as he entered.

“Hi Dad,” smiled a girl in the closest bed. She was sat on her knees, wearing a simple grey cloth dress, dark hair hanging past her shoulders. She couldn’t have been older than twelve. She also wore a huge smirk. “Ha ha. Mum yelled at you,” she teased.

Her father nodded piously. “And rightfully so, Cerris. I shouldn’t use bad language like that. I should make amends.” He walked over to the little shrine and knelt before it, stealing a glance to make sure Cerris was paying attention. She was watching intently.

Happy, he looked to the shrine. There were three vague figures carved into the wood. He raised his hand to them in turn.

“Forgive me for my rudeness, oh, Gods of the Heavens. First to the Father of Skies,” He gestured to the large central figure, “then to Aheazal of the Dark,” He put his hand to the right, “and then to Zaheal of the Light,” He put his hand to the left. Finished, he stood back up.

“Dad? What do those bad words mean?” Cerris asked curiously.

“Oh, one of them just means manure. The other is just something animals do. Still, best not to use them,” her father dismissed. “Never mind that though. How have you two been today?”

“Today was fun,” Cerris bounced on the bed. Then she paused, noticing a lack of movement from the other bed. “Time to get up, Elena. Dad’s back.”

The other bed was occupied by a little blonde girl of a similar age. She wore a brighter yellow dress and lay huddled against the wall.

 “Oh yes. I heard you had an accident with a nettle,” her father said, sitting beside the huddled girl.

Cerris rolled her eyes. “Her sting wasn’t that bad. She’s just sulking. I got stung by a bush a while back and it didn’t hurt that much.”

“Now, Cerris, don’t be rude,” her father gently scolded. “So, Elena, what are you making such a fuss about?”

“It hurt,” came the muttered reply.

“Does it hurt now?”

Elena slowly rolled over to face him. “My arm feels weird.”

He put a comforting arm around her. “I know, but by the time the numbness wears off the stinging will have stopped. All the balm does is numb the pain.”

“Yeah, see? My hands stopped tingling a while ago,” Cerris chimed in, proffering her hands as proof.

“You see. It shouldn’t be long now.” He smiled as Elena sat up. “Nothing to be sad about.”

“Ok,” Elena conceded.

“Great. Now, do you feel up to helping your mother with the dinner?”

“Yes…” she said with a small smile.

“That’s my girl.”

“What about me?” Cerris bounced excitedly.

“Calm down, I think you can help too…”

“Honey?” The shout came from outside.

“Just a minute, girls.” Their father stood and moved back outside. Elena and Cerris hopped off their beds, following to the doorway. Their parents were stood near the fire, talking.

“…I could have sworn I saw something,” their mother muttered, glancing about.

“Could have just been the wind.”

“Maybe, but I thought I heard branches breaking.”

“Hold on.” Their father walked back towards the door. He smiled at the girls as he reached in and grabbed the shield off the wall. He placed it on his arm, returning to the fireside. “Could it have just been a wolf?”

“It sounded bigger.” She eyed the nearby trees warily. “A bear perhaps?”

“They don’t normally come this far south, but one could have gotten lost or driven away from their hunting grounds.”

“It couldn’t be a person could it?”

The father drew his axe from his belt. “I’ll go take a look.”

He shifted the axe in his hand, creeping to the edge of the clearing. He peered into the dense trees beyond, between branches and thorns. Something rustled, maybe twenty paces ahead. His grip tightened. A shape moved amongst the branches. He stepped forwards, pushing the brush apart to step. A twig snapped. The movement in the bush ceased. He took another step.

Something moved. Something big.

It roared.

Branches splintered and earth trembled as something barrelled towards the clearing. The woodsman retreated as the beast tore through the brush. It stopped, looming over the camp. It was twice the height of a man, with black fur and grey markings. Its forelegs were sturdy, with two massive claws in place of toes, while its rear legs were nimble and hooved. Its body had the broadness of a bull with various sharp quills littering its back, its head was something between a wolf and a boar, armed with dozens of sharp, snarling teeth, and two tusks protruded at the edges of its maw. Along its snout, a plate of something resembling bone stretched from the nape of its neck to its nostrils, as its eyes gleamed from the side of its head, small, red and shining.

The beast roared. The woodsman swung his axe. It connected with the beast’s snout and the monster recoiled. He turned to his family.

“Run! Take the girls!”

The beast swung a claw and caught his raised shield. The mother ran to the girls, still standing frightened in the doorway. She grabbed their hands and ran. They ran and ran. The roar of the beast echoed through the forest behind them, but still they ran on. They ran until the noise became distant. They ran until they had to stop, panting and exhausted. The girls clung to their mother. She kept looking back the way they had come. She dropped to one knee and looked each of her children in the eyes, first Elena then Cerris.

“Stay here. Don’t move. I have to go back to help,” she said desperately. The girls nodded. Then their mother let go and ran back the way they’d come. She picked up a large branch as she went, glowing runes searing into the bark at her touch. Then she was gone.

The girls listened to the noise. The rustling of trees. The roar of the beast. The thunder of its footfalls. The sun grew low in the sky, and the roars became more and more distant. Finally, there was silence. The girls didn’t move. The air turned cold as evening crept in, and the sisters huddled together. There was no noise other than the birds and the trees.

Slowly, holding hands, they wandered back the way they had come.

“Mum?” Elena called out into the fading day. “Dad?” Both of them shook as they drew close to the camp.

“Mum?” Cerris cried fearfully. “Dad?” They gripped each other tightly as they reached the clearing. They stood before the scene.

They saw the bodies that lay before them.

Tears ran down Cerris’s face as Elena screamed.

[lamuradex]

Signs of Light and Shadow - Book 1

Prologue - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

Chapter 2 – Strange Blessings

Elena and Cerris ambled home, one leaning against the other for support. They kept silent during the journey, avoiding nocturnal predators in the dark. Finally, they reached camp, only the moon providing faint light.

During Cerris’s absence, a pot had been placed on the fire. Now the fire was only embers and everything had gone cold. Elena helped Cerris into a chair, then placed more firewood beneath the pot. With a quick touch of her hand the flames began to dance and warm light flooded the clearing. Elena sat in the other chair and stared at Cerris.

“So, are you going to make me ask?” she snipped. “I find you knocked out, freezing on the forest floor, utterly exhausted. What happened to you?”

Cerris stirred, having almost nodded off. Her entire body ached with exhaustion.

“Um…” She struggled to remember. “There was a man out there.”

“Yes, you mentioned. I didn’t see anyone though. Did he do this to you?”

“No.” Cerris shook her head. “He was an old man. He was dying. A wolf got him.” She rubbed her temples, her memory blurred and fuzzy. “I can’t remember his name. He seemed nice though.”

“And you watched him… pass?”

Cerris nodded, replaying the event in her head. “I stopped to say a prayer. It was only proper. But then there was something else. Two cats, in the branches. At least I think they were cats. They looked like cats. One was white and one was black. Then, there was a flash. Magic or something. They suddenly looked like people and started talking. They… They spoke to me.”

“Really?” Elena quirked an uncertain eyebrow. “Cerris, are you sure you didn’t bump your head or something?” she checked.

“I don’t think I did.”

“Hmm,” Elena doubted. “So, who were these cats, or people. What were they? Did they leave you unconscious?” she asked, stirring the stew. Steam was beginning to rise from it.

“They were there for the old man. I mixed up their names… in the prayer.”

“Their names were in the prayer?”

“I think so. I mixed them up…” Cerris focused, trying to jar something loose.

“Why were their names in your prayer, Cerris?” Elena tasted the stew.

 “I don’t know,” Cerris scrunched her brow, forcing the memory. Her eyes shot wide. “They were Aheazal and Zaheal!”

Elena almost dropped the spoon into the pot. Her face was aghast as she checked to see if her sister was joking. Cerris just stared through the fire, ordering her thoughts. A moment passed before either of them could respond.

“You’re saying you met the holy gods of light and darkness?” Elena checked. “The ones Mum and Dad used to teach us about? Two of the gods themselves. You’re saying you met two of the divines, randomly, in the forest?” she gawked incredulously.

Cerris didn’t say anything, still staring into the fire, but her shock was confirmation enough. Elena thought for a moment.

“By the skies… By the actual skies,” she exclaimed, resuming her cooking. “What did the gods want with some old man in the woods? And what did they want with you?”

“I don’t know. They were talking about some blessings? Something about passing them on…”

Cerris stopped.

The image of the dead man flashed through her mind, his hands glowing. Her blood chilled. She hurriedly removed her gloves. Her palms appeared unchanged, which was a relief. Then she braced herself and turned one hand over. She stifled a gasp.

“Passing on the blessings…” she muttered, frantically checking her other hand for the same.

“Cerris, I just want to be certain,” Elena said, still focused on her cooking. “You are absolutely sure you didn’t bump your head and dream all this?”

“I would have thought so too, but it would make these a bit difficult to explain,” Cerris croaked, fear straining her voice.

The backs of both her hands were marked, faint scars carving her skin. Each line was brand new, but thin and weathered and clean, as if they had been there for years. The scars formed complex symbols, one for each hand, both circular with a twisting pattern within. But each was distinct. On her left hand the scars were strong and rigid, rarely bending at all, the overlapping straight lines forming misshapen stars and triangles in an asymmetrical pattern. On her right hand however there were mainly circles and curves, interconnected and interlinked, mirrored and overlapping like ripples on water.

Cerris could only stare in cold horror at her marked skin.

Elena looked up, saw her sister staring at her hands, and wandered over. She recoiled at the sight. “By the skies...” she gasped. “They scarred your hands?”

“The old man. When he-” Cerris faltered- “When he died there was a strange glow around his hands. One looked like Aheazal’s power and the other looked like Zaheal’s. I saw it again, right before they-” She paused- “Before they gave it to me…”

“They gave something to you? What did they give you?”

“I… I don’t know…” Cerris’s stomach coiled.

“Why you though?” Elena reached forwards and ran a finger along the scars. Cerris didn’t flinch. They weren’t sore.

Cerris sat still, her stomach tightening, bile in her throat. She swallowed it down, her hands shaking. Elena watched her turn pale.

“Okay,” Elena said decisively, putting a reassuring hand on her sister’s shoulder. “Two deities appear before you in the woods. There must be a reason. Do you think they want something from you? Some sort of duty or fate… thing? That’s what gods do, isn’t it? Set heroes on quests? But why you?”

“From the way they were talking, it sounded like it was just because I was nearby.” Cerris lowered her hands, resting them on her lap. “I don’t even know what they did to me.” Her stomach coiled tighter.

“They must have given you whatever that old man had. Some kind of… divine magic maybe?” Elena guessed. “Gifts from the gods.”

“You think these scars are gifts?” Cerris stressed, holding a hand up to her.

“I mean, you do hear stories, Cerris… Heroes and quests and the like. Magical blessings. Maybe they’ve given you special powers or something like that.” She made a gesture like casting a spell, then remembered the stew as it began to bubble. “This should be ready, though its just vegetable stew. It should still fill a corner.”

“But I don’t know what these blessings are!” Cerris worried, trying to suppress full blown panic. She kept imagining something moving beneath her skin. “The gods didn’t tell me anything, Elena. Not a thing. They just gave me these and left. I mean, how do I even use divine blessings, if I even can, and if that’s even what they even are?”

“I… don’t know,” Elena conceded, filling two bowls with stew. She passed one to Cerris then resumed her seat. “How do you use divine powers, if indeed that’s what they are?”

Cerris couldn’t answer. She just ate her food.

Elena put a finger to her chin in thought. “Okay. First problem. What are they?” she rallied.

“Don’t know,” Cerris answered flatly.

“No answers there then. Second problem, how do you use them?” she continued. She thought hard, but was coming up empty.

“Well… How do you use your magic?” Cerris asked, taking a spoonful of stew, then following it with a couple more before chewing.

“My magic?” Elena stopped and thought. “It’s difficult to explain. When I enchant something, I just touch it and think about how I want it to change.”

She picked up a stone near her chair and focused on it. Her face strained as she clenched her features. Like embers, mystical runes danced across the stone’s surface, then vanished. As they disappeared, the stone began to sag and droop. Elena tipped her palm and it fell away, rock dust pouring to the forest floor.

Elena fell back, puffing and red faced. “See? It just feels like a muscle that extends when I want it to. Natural.”

Cerris finished her mouthful and grabbed a pebble from the floor. She tried to focus on it. She didn’t feel any muscle or sense. Nothing new. She concentrated, attempting to change the pebble, thinking of it turning to dust. Nothing happened. She released her grip and chucked it away through the trees.

“Any other tips?” she asked hopefully.

“Well, I have been trying some new things,” Elena said, still catching her breath. “Someone in town told me that some magicians can make orbs of light. I’ve been making some progress there.”

“Sounds useful?”

“I thought so,” Elena concurred. “As such, I’ve been trying to project my magic out of my hand. Extending the muscle outside of the body, so to speak. It’s like when you’re young and imagine you’re a bird or something. You imagine so hard that for a little while you can actually feel yourself having wings.”

“Or when I’d pretend to be a spider to scare you?” Cerris grinned tiredly.

“Yes,” Elena answered curtly, eyes closed again in concentration, a palm raised to the sky.

“It was difficult pretending I had eight legs,” Cerris said under her breath.

Elena ignored her, trying to concentrate. In the firelit darkness, sweat adorned her brow, as a small sphere of white light formed above her palm. It was intermittent, faint, and about the size of an acorn. It sputtered, and after one final flash, it vanished. Elena collapsed in her chair, exhausted.

“Haven’t mastered it yet,” she panted.

“You alright there?”

“Just… tired.” She mopped her brow with a sleeve. “Haven’t had much practice with that. And the thing with the stone wasn’t exactly easy.”

“Showing off a bit?” Cerris smirked.

Elena shrank with embarrassment. “A bit, yes.”

“Well, don’t hurt yourself to impress me,” Cerris advised. Elena nodded.

They continued to eat, bathed in the firelight. When their bowls were empty, they set them down and sat back. Elena looked up towards the stars through the open canopy, thinking, while Cerris stared into the trees across from her, her thoughts unable to leave the backs of her hands. Finally, with some trepidation, she raised her right hand and turned it over, palm towards the sky.

“Here goes nothing,” she muttered.

She focused and tensed. Every bit of her concentration was focused on the centre of her palm. Channelling everything she could through that one point.

As she strained, Elena watched her flush red with the effort.

She could almost feel something. Her head swam with the exertion. She flexed her fingers and her lungs began to burn. Then she realised she’d forgotten to breathe. She surrendered and inhaled a massive lungful of air, lowering her hand to her lap.

Elena regarded the outburst. Then she snickered. Cerris didn’t notice as she regained her composure, inspecting her right hand. She traced a finger over the rings of scars. Her eyes caught the opposite symbol on her left hand, all straight lines and angles. She hesitated, then raised it to eye level, matching where the other had been.

“Remember to breathe this time,” Elena teased.

Cerris ignored her and concentrated again. Everything through one hand. There was a… tingling, but she didn’t know if that was magic or just her imagination. Her fingers splayed out wide. Her hand ached as she pushed the palm towards the sky. A slight burning began to bubble up in her fingers. The back of her hand prickled.

With a flash, her palm erupted with white light. For a moment the entire clearing was lit as if in daytime. Elena shielded her eyes as Cerris clenched hers shut. Then it was gone. Her hand stopped glowing and the clearing returned to firelit darkness. Cerris opened her eyes and stared, blinking stars from her vision, as Elena lowered her hands.

“By the gods…” Elena swore. She shook it off and turned to Cerris. “You know what? I think we both need some rest. We’ll work out how to deal with this in the morning. But don’t worry. We will deal with this in the morning. Together,” she assured, hurrying inside.

“Together,” Cerris agreed, even if she didn’t feel tired anymore. Her nerves twitched at the unknown inside of her. Unsure what to make of it. What it was. Whether it was safe…

All the same, she readied for bed. She lay down to sleep, dreading she’d be up all night with her worries, but her exhaustion returned in a flood. As her eyes closed, she decided to just face the problem in the morning, and sleep took her.

*  *  *

Shapes and images swirled and shifted. Dark clouds like mist and smoke.

A great red palace. Solid crimson walls and legions of guards. The sounds of crowds.

A town of houses. Shabby and falling apart. People begging and mining.

A man upon a throne. Tall and decadent. Blotchy, purple, blistered skin.

She felt like she’d seen it before. Alluring and yet distant.

She could hear birds tweeting.

*  *  *

Cerris awoke with a start. She was at home in her bed. She relaxed. It was just a dream.

She rolled over beneath the covers and looked to the other bed. Elena was still asleep, one arm splayed out and the other pinned between her shoulder and her head. She was even dribbling a little from her open mouth.

Cerris smirked at the inelegant display as she got up and stretched. As she moved, she noticed a dull ache in her right hand. It recalled the previous day to her, anxiety washing back in waves. With a steady breath, she pushed the thoughts down. She just needed to get ready for the day.

Cerris donned her armour and walked out into the chilly morning air. It was still early, the sun having only recently risen, and she yawned as she went to patrol the camp’s perimeter. She rubbed her arms for warmth and wrapped her cape around herself against the chill. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, she walked to the wood pile, grabbed an old pail, and headed north. She soon came to a river where she stopped.

The events of the previous day played out involuntarily in her mind. By the riverside, she removed her gloves and examined the new scars on her hands. They looked old, like they’d been there for years, but of course they hadn’t. They hadn’t been there the previous morning. She stared at them, almost trying to wish them away, like if she stared hard enough she’d realise they were just optical illusions. But they wouldn’t budge. And she couldn’t keep looking at them. If she looked too long, she could almost imagine the lines wriggling like maggots beneath her skin.

She shook the thought from her head, replaced her gloves, and knelt to fill the bucket. The air was colder by the riverside as the wind carried along the current. She let it sooth her, just about able to see her breath, focusing on the fogging shapes.

The sun lit the trees as she walked back south. The morning dew glistened and the only sounds were birds, alongside water sloshing in the bucket. She reached the camp once more and placed down the pail. Elena was awake and standing in the entrance to the den, wearing the same golden dress as the day before.

“I got water,” Cerris beckoned.

“Thanks,” Elena answered, her voice raspy. She retrieved a cup, then shuddered as she drank. “I see it’s quite cold today,” she shivered.

“Yeah, but it’ll warm up.” Cerris leant on a chair left out from the day before. The forest was silent besides that, her head swimming with thoughts.

“About yesterday…” Elena tapped her cup with a finger. “I’ve been thinking on what to do about those symbols on your hands.”

“Go on?” Cerris looked over curiously. She resisted the urge to inspect her hands. The scars were hidden beneath her gloves, but she knew they were still there. Beneath her skin.

“I was thinking that those symbols must have some connection to Aheazal and Zaheal, right? And I’ve heard the temple in Greenwood has a shrine to them, like we have just bigger. They have a preacher there too.”

Cerris nodded along. “You think he might know something?”

“If anyone does, then he seems the best bet.” Elena walked over and held up one of Cerris’s hands. “I think we should try to understand these so called blessings, whatever they turn out to be… and whatever they might mean for you. For better or for worse, just in case,” she assured warmly.

“Elena, I’m fine, and I wouldn’t want to risk the journey. It’s most probably nothing-”

“Don’t you lie to me, Cerris,” Elena cut her off. “I know you’re worried too, you wear your heart on your face. I know you don’t want to think about it, just pretend it’s not happening, hope it just goes away. I know you don’t want to worry me. But that won’t help anyone. Least of all you.”

Cerris met her eye, but smiled. “Maybe I’m a bit worried,” she confessed, letting her tone speak volumes.

Elena nodded appreciatively. “I know it’s a long way to Greenwood, but we’ve made the trip before. Blessings or no blessings.”

“We are due a visit,” Cerris rationalised, pulling herself around on the idea.

“Exactly. So let’s pack up and get ready. Get started as soon as possible.” Elena stood, ready and raring, already heading to pack.

“Hold on,” Cerris called out. Elena stopped and turned back. “Look, I like the idea but it’s not safe out there. That old man was killed by a wolf, which means they’re hunting nearby. At least a dozen of them most likely. Half a day’s travel would definitely have them after our scent. We should wait until they’ve moved on, and that’ll at least be a few weeks.”

Elena didn’t look convinced. “Are you comfortable with that, Cerris? I don’t know how calm I would be, not knowing what mysterious power had been placed inside me.”

“It’s just a few weeks,” Cerris reassured with a shrug. “Just a few weeks,” she repeated, trying not to stare at her hands.

“I suppose, if you’re sure,” Elena said uncertainly. “But after that, the moment it’s safe, then we go and have the preacher check on you, okay?”

“Right.”

“And maybe the doctor to, just to be sure.”

“If you insist,” Cerris agreed.

“Okay then.” Elena paused to think. “Well, it’s longer than I’d like, but you are right about the wolves. We can’t take that risk, and I don’t see another way round it.”

“It’s just a few weeks.”

“And then we get you checked out. Have the preacher tell us what’s going on.”

“Exactly.”

“Together.”

“Together,” Cerris agreed with a slight smile. “Until then, I did fail to catch any meat yesterday. Maybe I should try again today,” she changed the subject, her hand on her axe.

Elena raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? We just discussed there being wolves nearby.”

“No worries. They will have fed last night. Plus, I’m just gonna track the deer I lost. Should be safe as long as I don’t go too far, and as long as I’m back before nightfall.”

Cerris inspected the tree line as she spoke, then looked back to Elena. Her sister was wringing her hands against her dress, her face tensed in worried thought. If Cerris’s heart was visible on her face, Elena’s was on her sleeves. Guilt pinched at her. Of course she wasn’t the only one worried.

“Then again, I could always use a second pair of eyes,” she considered aloud. “Seeing what happened yesterday, I guess someone should go with me.”

“I’d love to,” Elena exclaimed in relief.

Cerris wandered over and wrapped an arm around her sister. “And, while we go, we can see how much you remember about hunting and tracking. I can’t be the only one bringing home the food forever, can I?”

“We’ll see,” Elena smirked.

Cerris lit up as an idea formed. “You know, when we do go to town, I could buy you a weapon to train with. Maybe an axe, or a bow or something. Maybe even a crossbow to make hunting easier?”

“Hmmm, maybe,” Elena weighed her options. “Honestly, I’ve always preferred the idea of a sword myself. Duelling and settling matters of honour and nobility. Like those princes in the stories? A crossbow is such a sneaky weapon.”

“We’ll look into it,” Cerris tempered expectations. “Those swords in the blacksmith’s shop always seem so pricey.”

* * *

The sun hovered in the middle of the sky as Cerris and Elena strolled through the woods. Elena teetered, balancing on a fallen log, while Cerris walked a few paces ahead on the ground. Elena stuck out her arms as she wobbled, then jumped down to stand near Cerris.

“Alright,” Cerris lectured. “You see that nest up there?” Elena looked and saw a large nest hidden in the branches. “What animal made it?”

“A bird,” Elena smiled playfully, but Cerris just waited silently. Elena sighed. “Alright, by the size I’d guess an eagle or a hawk.”

“Look at the environment,” Cerris indicated.

Elena did. She looked around, her eyes stopping on the ground beneath the nest. There were small bones visible in the twigs.

“Looks like bones of a-” Elena knelt down and took a closer look- “a smaller bird. Hawks eat small birds so it’s a hawk?” she guessed.

“What if those are the bones of whatever was in the nest?”

“Are they too small for the nest?”

“Other than that.” Cerris paced around. Elena stared at the bones for a moment.

“Scattered skeletons. Nothing complete, so it didn’t die naturally.” She furrowed her brow. After a minute, her face finally cleared. “Oh! If they fell from the nest alive, they’d either be gone, because an animal ate them, or full skeletons if they just rotted. They are neither, so they must have been bones in the nest, meaning prey, and then fallen out. Prey which looks to be a small bird, which tells me it’s a hawk.” She grinned proudly, as her eyes checked Cerris for confirmation.

“Yes,” Cerris responded after a short pause. Elena celebrated to herself as Cerris continued. “If I had to guess, it was a mother hawk, chicks having fled the nest. I’ve seen it a few times out here. Pretty thing,” she reminisced, then knelt to inspect some tracks. The earth was soft and dry, the prints faded. She followed them on, gesturing for Elena to keep up. “The deer went this way.”

“Do you think we’re close, oh fellow hunter?” Elena chirped.

“The tracks seem pretty fresh but-” Cerris paused, noting the joy in Elena’s voice. “Don’t get too cocky now. You got the last few right, but a hunter that does not make.”

“I think I’m doing quite well.”

“Follow up then,” Cerris said. “With that nest, how could you tell it wasn’t an owl? They eat small rodents and smaller birds, but you went for a hawk.”

“Hawks are bigger?” Elena wondered aloud. A snap of realisation crossed her face. “Oh, I know this. Owls don’t leave bones, they leave pellets. All the nasty bits regurgitated.” She mimicked the action with her head and hands, looking like a terrible dancer.

“Right again.”

“I do know my stuff,” she boasted.

 “And why is it important to know if it’s an owl nest?”

“You can eat them?” Elena took a stab in the dark.

“Hawks can be territorial and hunt during the day,” Cerris lectured. “Owls tend to nest in hollow trees and are less likely to attack to keep you away. A mother hawk which sees you getting too close might try its luck. If you don’t see it coming, it could take an eye.” She mimicked the hawk’s claw with a finger, miming her eye getting scratched out.

Elena looked unconvinced. “Really? That’s important to know?”

“Well, no,” Cerris relented. “They’re not that aggressive. They’d usually only attack if you’re actually climbing into their nest. And that’s not worth the eggs.”

“And I was so looking forward to an omelette.”

Cerris chuckled as Elena navigated a set of tree roots, skipping and jumping as she went. Then Cerris stopped, glancing up at the sun.

“We should turn back soon,” she thought aloud. “This deer’s traveling south and I’m not comfortable following it.”

“How far have we come?”

“Well, home should be straight north from here. Not more than half an hour walking. Another ten minutes or so and we’re past where we know is safe. What do you say?”

“Do you hear that?” Elena asked. Cerris followed and listened. There was a metal clanking coming from nearby.

“Let’s see what it is,” Cerris whispered, drawing her axe and prowling closer. The noise was faint, but grew louder as they honed in. They arrived at a grove, a tangle of branches and vines, and in the midst of the mess of plant life was an animal.

“It’s a cow,” Elena said bemused. The cow was broad shouldered and chocolate-brown, the ringing coming from a golden bell tied around its neck. It didn’t seem particularly stressed by its predicament, as it chewed on some cud and mooed.

“Must have come a long way,” Cerris observed. “How could it have gotten this far without getting eaten?”

“Maybe a farmer was traveling through and got separated?” Elena approached the cow. It didn’t appear startled, so she began to pull some of the vines away.

“Might be worth a couple of meals if we can find a way to preserve the meat.”

“No, Cerris,” Elena reprimanded. She pointed at the animal’s neck. “Look at its bell. It’s shiny, not brass. This cow must be worth something.” She rubbed a hand along the cattle’s back. “Someone might come looking for it.”

“Let’s hope they’re nearby then,” Cerris murmured, then reached out and rattled the bell, the ringing echoing through the trees. After a few minutes, she let the air fall quiet. The trees rustled in the wind. The cow mooed. In the distance, a voice called out.

“Clara?” the voice called. A boy’s voice. Cerris rang the bell again and the voice called again, closer this time. After a few more cries, the caller clambered through the trees, smiling as he locked eyes on the animal. “There you are, Clara. I’ve been looking all over for you. Oh!” He stopped as he noticed the two women. “Um… Hello there.”

He was a young man, twenty something years old, with a very youthful face. His hair was strawberry blond, trimmed short, and his complexion was sun kissed and rosy. In build, he was a fraction shorter than either of the girls, but lean and wiry. He wore a simple green tunic, short grey trousers, and practical leather shoes. There was a sheen of sweat on his brow and his cheeks were flushed from travelling through the woods. He stared, assessing the two strangers.

“I’m guessing this is your cow?” Cerris said, releasing the bell. Her hand rested on her axe.

“Um… yes. It’s my cow,” the boy spouted, shifting nervously. He was unarmed. “Could I have it back, please?”

“Of course,” Elena said politely, pulling at the vines. “She’s a bit tangled though. We could use some help.”

The boy stood, glancing at Cerris, before realising he should be helping. Cerris inspected the stranger a moment, before joining in, drawing her axe and chopping some of the thicker plants. Soon enough, the cow was free. The boy stepped and grabbed the rope around its neck, the cow following his guidance obediently, both turning back the way they’d come.

“Got a name, stranger?” Cerris drew level with him. He flinched, but Cerris didn’t react. She waited expectantly.

“Gareth. Gareth Everett,” he stammered, trying to pull the cow away. “I should be going.”

Cerris kept at his side. “You must have travelled quite some distance, Gareth. Don’t meet many people this deep in the woods.”

“Except for us,” Elena added.

“Except for us,” Cerris agreed. “How did you follow that cow all the way out here?”

Gareth looked between them nervously. His eyes kept glancing to Cerris’s axe, now back in her belt. She rested her hand next to it. The boy’s mouth flapped, but he remained silent. The silence stretched. Finally, Elena rolled her eyes and stepped forward.

“There’s no need to be nervous around Cerris, Gareth. She’s just cautious about strangers,” she soothed using her best manners.

“Strangers who turn up miles from any town. In the middle of the forest. Near our home,” Cerris added, but took a few paces away. “He doesn’t seem dangerous though.”

“I was just retrieving my cow. Please, don’t rob me!” Gareth jabbered suddenly. He pushed his back against the animal like it would protect him and held his hands near his chest, balled into fists. Cerris and Elena stepped back.

“We’re not going to rob you,” Elena said calmly, holding up her unarmed hands. “Perhaps we should start again. My name is Elena. This is my sister Cerris.” She extended a hand to shake.

Cerris raised her hands away from her weapon. “Sorry. As I said, not too many visitors out here.”

Gareth looked between the pair, then finally started to relax. His balled-up fists unfurled and, still shaking, he reached out and shook Elena’s hand. As he let go, he paused, his face twisted in confusion.

“Wait? Visitors? You two live out here?”

“That is correct,” Elena said politely.

“We live just a little north of here.” Cerris gestured over one shoulder. Then she checked the sun’s position and amended the direction.

“How about you, Gareth? I’d guess you’re from Greenwood?”

“No, sorry.” He shook his head. “That’s the town to the north east, right? Near The Barrens? I’ve never been there myself.”

“That’s it,” Elena confirmed. “It’s east from here, and the closest place we know.”

“But if you’re not from Greenwood…” Cerris wondered, but stopped. Her face froze mid-thought, her eyes locked on a spot somewhere behind Gareth.

Elena noticed and followed her gaze. Her entire body had tensed. Gareth looked confused, and then frightened, as Cerris’s hand crept towards her axe. He began to whimper, until one of Elena’s hands shot out, gesturing urgently.

“Stay calm,” she whispered. “Cerris has spotted something in the trees behind you. I can’t see it, but you need to stay quiet.” She looked to Cerris, drawing her axe.

“I don’t have my shield,” Cerris hissed. "I might need some help.”

“What is it?” Elena tried to spot the threat while avoiding looking directly at it.

“A wolf. I think it’s alone.” Cerris raised her axe.

“A big one?”

“Quite big, yes.”

In the nearby tree line, something grey waited. Yellow eyes glittered. A snarl rumbled. Then, in a frenzy, it bared its teeth and pounced. It was a scarred and battered hound, at least one fresh wound across its shoulder, and reached the trio in two quick bounds. Cerris swung her axe, cut a glancing blow to its ear, and the wolf scrabbled away, darting towards Gareth and his cow. It stopped a few paces from him, snarling through bared teeth.

Gareth yelped. The wolf bounded at him, but veered as Elena charged armed with a magically burning stick. She waved the flame and the wolf retreated, until a light wind blew and snuffed the fire out. Elena, with a look of embarrassment, dropped the stick which crumbled to ash at her feet.

The wolf squared up as Cerris sprinted between it and Elena, axe held ready. Elena meanwhile dropped to her knees and searched furtively for a large stone to use as a weapon.

The predator growled and sprang. Cerris swung her axe and caught its haunch, gouging a shallow wound. The beast toppled sideways, but leapt past Cerris and Elena, swiping a paw at Gareth. Gareth leapt back, his spine pressed against the cow.

Elena reacted first. She span, poured her magic into the stone in her hand, and threw it. The throw missed completely, but the rock exploded in a shower of magic, light and dust. The wolf startled, barking and yelping, as it fled in a panic between the trees. The trio waited until it had disappeared completely, before Cerris placed her axe back into her belt. Gareth stood, shaking and gripping his forearm.

Elena watched the trees longer than the other two, before a joyous smile broke over her face. “Ha! Seems you were right. Throwing a stone wasn’t a bad idea after all,” she laughed.

Cerris grinned in admiration, patting her sister on the shoulder, then walked over to Gareth, patting him on the back. “You alright there?”

He was shaking, but nodded calmly. “I’m… I’m fine.”

“Any cuts or grazes?”

“No, I don’t think-” He winced, gripping his forearm. “Maybe one or two.”

“You can rest at our camp. Bring the cow too,” Cerris led the way.

Gareth nodded and followed, with Elena leading the cow.

* * *

Cerris, Elena and Gareth all stood around the empty fire pit as the sun warmed the air. Elena offered Gareth a seat, while Cerris tied up Clara to a nearby tree.

“Are we safe here?” Gareth muttered, holding his arm uncomfortably.

“Yep,” Cerris assured. “There’s some special plant in a ring around the perimeter, about fifty paces out. Smells sharp and bitter if you brush up against it. Most predators keep their distance.”

“And… are there many wolves in these woods?” Gareth stared out into the trees.

“A couple of packs for sure,” Cerris shrugged. “They tend to wander the further parts. The wolf we met was probably some outcast, looking for scraps. Not too much trouble.”

“I guess- Ah!” Gareth sucked air through his teeth, clutching his arm.

“Do you want me to take a look at that?” Elena asked.

Gareth extended his arm. He had four long, shallow scratches running diagonally near his elbow. They were light, with a few droplets of blood seeping out.

Cerris craned her head. “Problem?”

“No no. The wolf must have just caught him, but they’re not deep.” Elena turned Gareth’s arm in her hands. “Better to be safe than sorry though. Cerris, can you get me some water?”

Cerris nodded and brought over the pail, before she wandered off towards the den.

“I just want to clean it to start with,” Elena explained kindly. She poured some water on his arm, washing away the tiny traces of blood.

“Helps stop wounds rotting,” Gareth muttered to himself, wincing from the cold. “Do you think it’ll scar?”

“Pardon?” Elena almost laughed. “No, Gareth, I don’t think so. It’s barely a scratch.”

“Oh. Good,” Gareth said, on the edge of disappointed, as Cerris returned from the den with some cloth.

“Need a bandage?” she offered.

“No need, Cerris. I’ll just help it heal a little.” Elena lifted her hands and rubbed them together, before placing them onto Gareth’s arm. A glow shimmered beneath her palms. Gareth stared agog while Cerris returned the cloth to the den.

“You’re a sorceress?” Gareth said in amazement.

Elena raised her hands and the glow vanished, alongside any trace of the wounds. She wobbled, breathing deeply, leant against a chair.

Gareth rubbed his forearm tentatively. “Wow,” he gasped, marvelling at the unmarred skin. “That’s amazing!”

“It’s nothing,” she dismissed, recovering her composure. “Are there no sorcerers where you come from?”

“One or two, maybe?” he guessed, lowering his arm.

“Funny. There aren’t any magicians in Greenwood,” Elena considered.

“So where do you hail from, Gareth?” Cerris called, exiting the den. “You never did say.”

“I’m from Dragonridge,” Gareth answered.

The girls looked to each other, each checking if the other had heard of it. Elena shook her head, while Cerris furrowed her brow. She turned back to Gareth.

“How far did you travel? Must have been some walk following that cow, I’d guess.”

Gareth tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Well, I set off this morning after I noticed Clara was missing. I must have left the gate open last night,” he recalled. “I must have been chasing her for a few hours, maybe?”

“Only a few hours?” Elena gasped. “But it takes us the better part of a day to get to Greenwood from here.”

“And which direction is Dragonridge?” Cerris asked, an edge in her voice.

“The sun was to my right as I entered the forest this morning so…” Gareth thought.

“To the south,” Cerris concluded grimly. “No wonder we’ve never heard of it.”

“Never travel south past the great elm tree. Danger lies there,” Elena recited as doctrine. “Mum and Dad were always very clear on that.”

“They never did tell us why,” Cerris said back.

“They never had to,” Elena countered.

“Um…What’s wrong?” Gareth interrupted, having noted their furtive glances at him.

Cerris turned to him. “We were told that south from here was dangerous. We never travel more than an hour from home in that direction. And we certainly never knew there was a town there. But you’re telling us there is?”

“Well… yes,” Gareth paused. “I live there, and it doesn’t seem too bad. Sure, there’s some hooligans at the taverns and the occasional thief, but what town doesn’t have such problems. I can’t see why someone would call it dangerous… not for visitors like you two anyway.”

“Really?” Elena doubted.

“They keep the law well and we are not a poor town… Well, not very poor,” he shrugged.

“Huh…” Elena considered the idea. “Maybe it’s changed in the twenty years since our parents last visited?”

“If he’s telling the truth…” Cerris folded her arms. Her eye caught her glove. She recalled her new scars. She tapped her elbow anxiously, but she stopped before Elena could notice.

But Elena did notice. Her eyes lit up. “Gareth? Is there a temple in Dragonridge? One to the gods of the sky, Aheazal and Zaheal?”

“Of course. We’re not barbarians,” Gareth answered. “My father takes me there on special occasions.”

“Well, that changes things,” she nodded, then turned to Cerris. “Maybe we can see the preacher there rather than wait to visit Greenwood.”

“But is it safe?” Cerris retorted

“I don’t know, but how bad can it be? And we need to visit a preacher, don’t we?”

Cerris opened her mouth to argue.

“Don’t we?” Elena enforced.

“Yes…” Cerris sighed. “It’s just… suspicious is all. And it could be dangerous.”

“And what if it isn’t?”

Cerris didn’t have an answer for that. She thought a moment. “I guess, if something were to go wrong, we only have to make it back to the woods,” she assured herself.

“Exactly,” Elena encouraged. “No one knows these trees like us.”

“And if we can’t get back to the forest?” Her hand settled on her axe.

Elena thought for a second. She looked to their guest. “Gareth doesn’t seem dangerous, does he?”

Cerris glanced at him. “No. He doesn’t.”

“A town with well kept cattle and healthy young farm boys?”

Cerris tapped her armour, but nodded. “They’re not barbarians,” she reminded herself.

“So, maybe Mum and Dad were just being protective. Maybe they thought we would spend every night in the tavern if there was one so close,” Elena theorised, placing a hand on her sister’s shoulder. “Maybe we could risk it?” she finished uncertainly.

Cerris thought hard. Her hands nagged at her, and curiosity wriggled concerning a nearby town they’d never heard of. She also couldn’t see a better option. She sighed.

“I hope this isn’t a mistake,” she said heavily. She took a deep breath. “Gareth?”

“Yes?” he answered.

“Do you want us to help you get back to Dragonridge? We might be heading in that direction.”

[lamuradex]

WIP: Signs of Light and Shadow

Genre: Fantasy/Adventure - Adult Lit - Family Friendly

Completion Progress: 2 Books Written, Endlessly Editing

Summary:

In the mystical land of Deivhara (Dey-a-var-ah), Cerris and Elena live in the forest alone. Orphaned at a young age, when a monster appeared and killed their parents, they've survived on their own skills ever since, with Cerris as the fighter and hunter, while Elena is the more the homebody, dreaming of bigger things. Things change for the girls however, when Cerris goes out hunting and stumbles across a dying man, who is then visited by the gods, Aheazal and Zaheal. There to pass along blessings the man carries, the gods give them to Cerris, mainly because she happens to be nearby.

Cerris and Elena attempt to investigate these blessings, leading to trouble in a nearby town, and then for them to begin following the visions Cerris has been receiving, leading to an adventure across the continent. From their humble home, to mountaintops, to journeying the deep sea with mermaids, and all the way to death ravaged lands of the north, the girls pursue these visons and the shapeshifting Enkarga, which may be a threat to the entire world.

Personal Notes: This story isn't my first attempt to create a huge fantasy world, but the first book is easily the biggest I've yet written, to the point it might be a three-part trilogy. I already have the series planned out, and the first two books written, with seven books planned overall and possibly a spin off towards the end. I really do enjoy the lore I've come up with for this one, and hope others will find it fascinating too. In the early books, I'm already setting up and teasing the mysteries I know will be important later.

All posts tagged under #Signs of Light and Shadow

I've also posted some chapters here already under #S.o.L.a.S Chapters

ALL QUESTIONS ABOUT THIS PROJECT ARE WELCOME!