Diane M. Graham
I Am Ocilla
Open your heart and mind to the simplicity and complexity of a name.
I Am Ocilla
Diane M. Graham
Published by Splashdown Books, New Zealand
http://www.splashdownbooks.com
Smashwords Edition
Copyright © 2012 Diane M. Graham
All rights reserved
Cover Photography by Michael Thompson
Cover Design by DeAnna Newsome
Krakatoa Heart Crest by Robynn Tolbert
Crazy-Hair art by Madison Graham
Project Design by Grace Bridges
Editors: Kat Heckenbach, Robynn Tolbert, Grace Bridges
This book is also available in paperback at
my children~
Your songs are weaved into my soul.
Prologue
Two dark forms glide across the open field. Long legs eat the distance toward their destination, and long hair shines under the glow of moonlight like silver and gold. Both father and son wear only loincloths, but the cool spring air doesn’t seem to affect either man. They both stand taller than seven feet, with broad shoulders and lean muscles.
In the distance, the shadowy outline of a monstrous structure looms. Turrets and walls shoot up from a cliff in a ramble of disordered stone. The only entrance lies to the east, yet the men approach from the west. Three hundred feet above the base of the cliff is a window, but there are no handholds or ladders to make the climb.
From the top branches of a nearby tree, a female watches the two men. Her legs swing back and forth, dangling from the limb she sits on. She holds her wings still, and keeps her hand over her mouth, hiding, and waiting.
As the men draw near their goal, the younger man sucks his breath through his teeth. Straining his neck, he looks up at the five larger-than-life carvings which adorn the cliff: a wolf with hackles raised and fangs bared, an owl with extended wings and sharp talons, a panda covered in links of armor, a tiger with swirls as eyes and a Kraken with flames spouting from its mouth. Years of wind and rain show their abuse on the artwork. All that remains is the faint outline of the animals that protect the fortress.
“Don’t be enamored by the beauty in this place, Ash. Only murderers, thieves and secrets reside here now,” the silver-haired man says.
“Yes, Father.” Ash nods. “Does she know we are here?”
“We can’t know that until we get to her.” Ash’s father looks at the placement of the low moon on the horizon. “We’re running out of night. Do you want to wait until tomorrow?”
“No, Father.” Ash’s head droops and he scuffs his foot in the dirt, scattering pebbles into the wall.
“Do not tease the boy, Rowan,” the winged female says from her hiding place.
The men snap to attention and crouch low with their arms extended. Turning their gazes upward, recognition dawns and tense creases smooth away. They sigh in unison.
“You know what this means to him.” She waves her arms out in a hug of air. “To all of us.”
Rowan rolls his shoulders and pushes a silver strand of hair behind his ear. “Stop doing that to us. I thought I told you to stay in the trees?”
The female arches one etched eyebrow. “I am in the trees.”
Rowan folds his arms across his chest and squints in her direction. “I meant the trees in the valley, and you know it.”
“Oh, all right, but I could have been useful.” She stands on the branch, kicks off and flies away.
Rowan smiles and reaches a hand above his head, placing it on the stone of the cliff. Tiny vines sprout from his fingertips and take root in the wall. His feet do the same as he plants one and then the other on the surface before him. He pulls up the wall, hand over hand. Each time he removes a limb, the root shrivels and disappears as if it were never there. Ash follows in the same manner, a body length behind.
They reach the window and catapult over the ledge, landing on a stone floor worn shiny from years of use. A dozen torches bring dim light to the cavernous room. Stacks of thick paper laced together with string litter the corners. Baskets hold scrolls tied with cloth. Two shelves stuffed with hundreds of books reach from ceiling to floor on either side of the window.
Jagged hand-hewn field stones frame the hearth taking up most of the wall to the right. A fire smolders inside. Ash coughs to clear the smoky air from his chest. To the left, clear of clutter, sits a desk scarred by the passage of time, nicks of its woody flesh gouged away by misuse.
“Check the passageway while I search the desk.” Rowan pushes his hair behind his ear again and rummages through a drawer.
“Yes, Father.”
Ash cracks open the heavy oak door to gaze down the torch-lit passage. Two heavily armed men stand a few yards away with their backs turned and their mouths making enough noise to wake the dead. Ash closes the door without a squeak. He raises two fingers and makes a slashing motion with the other hand.
Rowan clutches a scroll in his hand, and motions for Ash to join him. He unrolls it and spreads it on the desk, holding down the curling edges. Both lean forward and examine the yellowed parchment. Faded ink crisscrosses a lattice of rooms.
“The castle is much larger than we thought.” Rowan whispers.
“Yes, six levels below and four above ground. At least we have somewhere to start.” Ash runs his fingers over the map. “The bottom three floors hold the dungeons.”
Chapter 1 ~ Darkness
The darkness of my abyss consumes. Direction is irrelevant and time is worthless. If only I could pinpoint the moment when it all faded, maybe I would be able to crawl back into existence.
I slip in and out of reality. My heartbeat taunts me with hope for life, but the aches and emptiness pounding within the rest of my body only offer death.
I am Ocilla. That I know for sure.
As I sit in this prison, no other memory surfaces. No matter how hard I try, I cannot get past the barricade in my mind. The only sound is the drip, drip, dripping in the distance. The moisture leaks down the walls like tears unshed for too many years, finally escaping.
I am alone in this hell. They will come for me soon, and then I will be no more.
A few minutes, hours, or days later, footsteps echo far away. My lungs labor. My breath is kept shallowed by the splintered shards of my ribcage. Each intake of air is a reminder of my frailty. I hurt from head to toe, but I am separated from the pain by a thick haze.
Where am I? How did I come to this place? It is dark, damp and moldy. The cold seeps into my bones. My teeth chatter, and my body shakes. The room in which I am imprisoned has a cavernous echo, and my pulse pounds rhythmically against the walls. Memories do not come.
The footsteps come closer, but all I can do is sit in a heap against the slimy interior of the chamber and wait. The fog of my mind thins. There is my heartbeat again. I am indeed alive. Water drops, footsteps and heartbeats play a syncopated tune. Plop! Smack! Smack! Thump! Thump! Plop! Smack! Smack! Thump! Thump!
Are they coming for me? I almost hope so. But who are they?
A flicker of light crosses under the door. My tired limbs move. I cannot stop them, even though my muscles rip with pain as I drag useless legs behind me. The door is a great wooden beast. Splinters pierce my fingers as I pull myself to sitting and rest my cheek on its grain. The smacking steps cease and heavy bolts scrape as they move. The metallic clatter vibrates my face like a growl.
The light. I want it. I need it. Something in my head connects light to comfort and safety. I claw to get to it. The skin splits and tears on my hands.
“Quiet!” A soft masculine whisper carries through the door.
A vise of fear grips everything inside of me and my hands drop. Evidence of recent brutality mars my flesh, and I push back to distance myself. Cold stone scrapes my bare flesh. Should I care that my captors see my body? They have, no doubt, seen me already.
The final bolt slides away and the heavy door swings in. Fresh air sweeps away the smell of death. Torchlight pierces my eyelids with a thousand needles, forcing them shut and my arms to cover my face. Shuffling feet approach. Someone squats next to me, and lovely heat pours from the torch. I brace for the blow I am sure will come. Gentle hands wrap under my body. I flinch with contact and wait for the pain, but none comes.
“Shh! I will not harm you, little one.” The man cradling me smells like wood, sap and sweat.
“We have to hurry, Ash,” says a raspy whisper full of command.
“Yes, Father!”
He hoists me from the ground like a child. He is as warm as the torch, and I cannot help snuggling myself closer. I want to wrap that warmth around me like a blanket, let the heat soak in and stay there forever. It may be a false sense of security and well-being, but it’s all I have.
I am rocked by Ash’s light strides. I can barely hear his feet on the wet rock, even though he carries my added weight. His father must be relatively close with his torch, for weaker heat radiates from somewhere ahead, and light filters through my eyelids.
Male voices echo in the distance, rising and falling in what sounds like drunken song. We climb steps, and Ash’s muscles bunch as he moves upward. The brighter light filling this new area hurts too much so I squeeze my eyes tighter and turn my face into Ash’s chest. My breathing is unstrained now, as if the walls of my prison were the clasp on my lungs, and his smell burns into me like a branding iron.
The voices sound close enough to touch. Ash’s steps slow and then come to a halt.
“There are too many to go by unseen,” Ash’s father says.
“We are running out of time.”
“I know. You stay here. I have this.”
A loud crash sounds ahead and the singing comes to an abrupt halt. Liquid splashes and metal skitters across the stone floor. The odor of fermented fruit wafts into my nostrils. Ash’s muscles tense and he curses under his breath, but I can hear it rumble his chest. He squats down. A large shadow blocks most of the glow through my eyelids.
“Are you ready?” Ash’s father says a short distance away
“Ready for what?” someone slurs.
“To get out of my way,” Ash’s father answers.
“Hey! Aren’t you…” The voice strangles to silence. Others rise in alarm. Metal clashes, but not the same frail sound from before.
Ash curses again. “I’m going to set you here for just a minute, little one. I’ll be back to get you.”
Ash lowers my body to the cold floor once more. I grab onto him, but he removes my hands with ease. Gentle fingers smooth my hair away from my face. All too quickly, he strides away to join his father and I am alone.
I run my fingers over the surface before me. Horizontal bands of iron wrap around curved staves of oak. My hands touch the indent of a bilge hole. The plug is not there.
There is a scuffle close by, and flesh smacks against flesh. Wood splinters in the distance, followed by the clatter of metal on rock. Then, the thump of bodies tumbling to the stone. I pray that only the enemy has fallen.
Silence is a nasty sound. I wait in agony as long seconds stretch to a lifetime. Metal slides across the stone with chunky clacks. I am taunted by visions of Ash or his father being pulled across the rock floor, even though I have no idea what they look like.
A whisper kisses my ear. “Are you well, little one? I’m here.”
I sigh as large arms close around me. An odd image forms in my mind of a tree encasing me in its branches. I try to respond to his question but my throat constricts, so I nod. A water-skin presses to my lips. I drink deep, surprised that it’s not water but sweet nectar. I’ve never drunk anything so refreshing…have I? I search the recesses of my mind, only to find them void.
Ash pulls the small bag away. I want to protest, but I don’t have the strength. Instead, I rest my head against the warmth of his chest.
“We have to go. More guards will come and I’ll not be able to protect you once the sun rises.” Ash lifts me and runs.
The torchlight blinks away and a cool breeze stirs my dirty hair against my shoulders. Ash’s father’s breathing is fast and labored near my ear. With Ash’s arms around me, contentment overcomes the chaos inside, and I am lulled to oblivion as we breach the night. A last thought of trees and adventure, and my mind slips away to peace.
Chapter 2 ~ Dreaming
I dream for a long time, or I think I dream. The images are so realistic, yet so surreal and I have an urge to shake myself. Darkness is my constant companion; I am sure of that one truth. So the things I dream seem impossible.
In my dream, light bursts through my eyelids. I open my eyes to midday sun falling through a canopy of newly budded leaves. Joy surges through me.
It is too much! I close my eyes. If I were to never dream again, or never wake again, I would surely die happy after this moment of light. Maybe I really am dead and not dreaming after all. I don’t know. But at this precise moment, I don’t care.
Warm liquid seeps down my cheek. I raise my hand to wipe it away, think better of it and let the tears flow. This is not a dream. I have returned to life.
I breathe deep, and my lungs push against my damaged ribcage. Sharp-edged jabs run the length of me, but the taste of fresh air is worth the pain. It smells of leafy trees and fresh flowers, a tinge of water and sap add to the aroma, along with something else…I need a moment to pinpoint the exact fragrance.
Ash!
The vivid memory of meeting Ash brings the darkness of my prison to the fore again. Had he or his father been injured? How did they know where to find me? Why did they save me?
It will do me no good to visit uncertainty. I push it all into the back of my mind and focus on here and now. The air is so strong with his smell. I throw my eyes open. He must be near.
I’m astonished anew. In my first glimpse I didn’t register my surroundings, only the light and green. Now, I find my body is modestly wrapped in a suit of woven leaves, and I’m nestled in a bed of branches. Peering through limbs I blink and gulp. Dozens of feet separate me and the ground. My heart skips a few beats at the height.
A heady feeling overcomes me as I take in the view. A rolling landscape of vibrant greens stretches out before me. Vast snowcapped mountains stretch behind me. A stream runs parallel to the base of the range with water trickling over stones worn smooth by the passage of time. Wild deer and smaller creatures sidle along the water’s edge for a drink. The sight of the animals refreshing themselves only a few dozen yards away reminds me of my own thirst and hunger.
I turn to take a closer look at the tangle of branches I’m nestled in. A small wooden chalice containing a creamy golden liquid sits at the edge of my nest. I dip my finger into the vessel and draw out a small droplet. I bring it to my lips, suck the bead of moisture and close my eyes as pleasure invades my taste buds.
It’s the same sweet nectar Ash gave me. I pick up the wooden cup and drink until I am completely sated. My tummy bloats from the rich concoction. A slight memory tickles. I hear a familiar woman laughing and saying, “Fat and happy you are, Ocilla my love!”
From the corner of my eye, a form flits by and lands on a tree limb. The wings vibrate the branches surrounding me, and my bones rattle under my skin. What bird could make such a racket?
She is much, much too large to be any kind of bird. I’m sure birds do not wear woven leaf suits or hats made of tree bark. No bird ever in existence has had pointed ears or a cute button nose. She has ivory skin and studies me with large, violet eyes edged with long black lashes, a complete contrast to her silver hair. No lines of age are apparent upon her face, but her eyes tell the same story as her hair. She has lived a long life.
“Oh, you’re awake then?”
Her voice is silky smooth, just a little louder than a whisper. Quiet as she is, it startles me.
“Well, don’t sit there gawking at me! Close your mouth, girlie! It isn’t polite to drool at a person!” She pulls something from a small pouch at her hip.
I close my mouth and use my arm to mop away the spittle from the corners of my lips. The scolding, however sweetly delivered, evaporates the trance-like state I’m in.
I speak, but only gibberish comes out. Not even I can understand my words. Am I suffering the effects of prolonged silence? I’m unable to remember the last time words passed over my vocal cords, and blush in embarrassment.
“Oh! Do not force it. Take this and stick it under your tongue.” She hands me a tiny clear pebble, about the size of a pea. She places an identical pebble in her ear.
She looks at me knowingly. The small crystal is hot and cold all at once. I place it under my tongue, and the strangest melody fills my head. The plucking of harp strings is prominent, and the tune is faintly familiar.
Who are you? I wonder.
“Oh, you can call me Tiana.” She smiles a brilliant smile, waving off my stupefaction.
My mind grapples with the oddity of this Tiana person and this strange piece of quartz wedged under my tongue. What is this? Why do I hear music in my mind?
“It’s a Stone of the Son, girlie, and the music is his song. Didn’t your mother tell you these things?”
I look at her, perplexed.
She smiles again, and I’m sure any man would fall head-over-heels, scampering to do her bidding.
“I guess you wouldn’t know if she did,” she says. “Remind me to tell you the story later.”
Okay, but where are Ash and his father? I remember them saving me from my prison but I couldn’t thank them. I don’t even know what they look like or who they really are. I have no idea how she can hear my thoughts, but the relief of being able to communicate takes away the frustration of not understanding what has happened.
“Oh, Ash and Rowan are close. You will see them this evening and you can ask all the questions you want. Right now, let’s get you settled, girlie.”
Tiana flutters to my side and wraps her arms around my waist. She is a smidgen smaller than I am, and I wonder how she plans to move me. The thought only has a moment to form before she lifts me from my bed.
“Hold on.” She maneuvers our bodies through the labyrinth of limbs.
I clutch Tiana’s midsection. A sudden terror of falling seizes me, and I bury my face into her shoulder. My jaw clenches and the small crystal bites into my tongue. Tiana can hear my cowardly thought but doesn’t falter in her flight. I suspect she is laughing, but cannot be sure. The loud humming of her wings covers all other sound. I suppose I’m not the first to be carried in her arms, and I take comfort in her strength and ability.
In minutes, my feet touch ground. Tiana helps me to stay upright on weak legs. I lean heavily against her as she begins to pull away my wrapping of leaves. I am startled, but then I see the stream.
“I’ll help you into the water. After you’re in, you should be able to move on your own fairly well. Your legs will work fine in no time, girlie.” Tiana lifts me again and sets me down in the stream.
Warm water laps over my bruised flesh, and I sigh. Water covers my shoulders, and my toes squish into a sandy bed below. She drops a small capsule into the stream and the water froths and fizzes, massaging my skin like tiny hands. The calming scents of lilac and rose fill the air. Any remaining tension left in me washes away in a tide of bubbles. I can stand on my own in the water. Finally, some freedom.
I try to run my fingers through my hair. The matted mass of long tresses was the only warmth I had in the frigid chamber of the prison. Filth cakes to the strands, disguising the color. Tiana glides over to assist me with my burden. We struggle uselessly with the soiled knots and tangles.
“It will have to come off.” She reaches into her pouch, and pulls out a sharp-edged stone. In one sweeping motion at the base of my neck, Tiana cuts away years of growth.
My heart tightens as three-foot strands fall and float in a semicircle around me, a honey color visible through the grime. When you know very little of yourself, foolish things matter so much more. I close my eyes and take a few steadying breaths.
Tiana removes the stone from my mouth. It is a mercy to my tormented mind, leaving my thoughts to me alone.
The hair is dead. There is no life in it. I want life. I take one last deep breath of fragrant air, then dive under the water, kick my legs as hard as I can, and swim to get away from death. It’s only hair, after all.
I swim for what seems like hours. My fingers and toes shrivel like prunes and my body is worn to weariness. A gathering of large boulders rests at the edge of the stream. One of them is flat like a shelf. I swim to it, find footing in the shallow water, and try to pull myself up. It’s not an easy job, and it takes me forever to accomplish.
Tiana lazes on the riverbank on the opposite side, weaving leaves and humming a soft song. If she has seen my struggle, her face doesn’t give any clue, and she does not interfere. I’m thankful she cannot hear my thoughts anymore, for questions haunt me. Who am I? Where am I from? Where is Ash?
Why can’t I remember?
I lie flat. The rock radiates the heat of the sun and relieves the agony of my fading injuries. The fragrance of roses and lilacs dances around me, and the sound of running water lulls me as I wrestle with hidden memories. I let the warmth tug me away. One thing I do know. I am Ocilla.
Chapter 3 ~ Danger
There are moments in which one’s mind teeters on the brink of asleep and awake, a zigzag between fantasy and reality. I want to stay submerged in slumber, but the world has a way of dragging me to the surface against my will.
“Little one, you must arise. I must hide you.” Ash’s voice.
The image of butterflies in a misty meadow of blossoms vanishes to vapor. Large hands wrap around me, and sling me through the air. My ribs crack as my abdomen collides with a broad shoulder. His jarring footsteps on a rocky surface shoot pain through my midsection. Ash runs up a precipice. I hang limp like a ragdoll. A loud screech sounds in the distance. I raise my head to see what ghastly abomination could cause such a commotion.
Flames consume the treetops in the beautiful valley below. A dozen winged beasts circle, spouting fire from their snouts. Leathery wings flap an ominous beat as the behemoths gather in V-formation and sweep the landscape. I swallow hard past the thought of charred flesh and bone.
Forest creatures scurry up the cliff side to escape the bone-fire as the sweltering heat draws near. I squint my eyes against billowing smoke and search the horizon for Tiana. A tremble of fear runs through me. A vision of her body still on the bank of the stream or in the branches of the tree grips me with panic.
I call out to Ash, but my voice doesn’t cooperate. Hysteria overcomes me, and I beat my fists frantically into his back. It is no use. The blows do nothing to break his strides.
The night is the shade of pitch beyond the canyon of fire, and all is silent but the beasties in the background. Ash slows his pace as the ground beneath us levels. My body shifts upon his shoulder as we slump down to enter a hidden fissure in the mountainside.
The subterranean niche smells musky, and old bones litter the ground. Ash deposits me against the wall of the cave. I slide down the stone, and sit in the dirt. I tremble and look to Ash for reassurance. A fiery glow pours through the opening and silhouettes his massive form. The highlights of golden tresses fall over his shoulders.
“Stay here, little one. I must go help the others.” He ducks through the entrance and leaves me all alone.
The cave delves a good deal further into the mountain, or so it seems, but I choose to follow Ash’s order and stay near the opening. I shiver at the thought of entering a dark passage of any kind. Dragging myself to the entrance, I peer out. Ash bounds down the steep slope to where Tiana waits for him. Her words carry to my ears, even though they shouldn’t through the din of crackling fire.
“Is she secured, Ash? The Krakens want her. They have her scent.” Tiana pulls her sharp-edged stone from her pouch, and wipes sweat from her brow.
“Yes, in the cave.” Ash pulls a slender, wooden bow from his shoulder blade. The arc draws from the actual flesh of his back. He plucks long wooden objects from his head as if they are hairs instead of projectiles.
What kind of man is he?
“I’ll cover the north, your father has already taken the south and you defend the inside. May El and the Son go with you.” Tiana throws her words over her shoulder and zooms off to the fray.
Ash positions himself behind a boulder and sets his first arrow. The stench of death from the valley fills my nose. My stomach churns, but Ash seems focused and fearless.
Monstrosities swarm overhead, gnashing their teeth and emitting roars of anger. The broad belly of a beast presents itself. Ash draws back the string of his bow, takes aim and knocks off a dozen arrows in a matter of twenty seconds. Blood pours from the sky in crimson rain. Ash follows the base of the cliff, lunging to a new position of cover, out of my sight.
In the northern sky, Tiana dodges to the right as a nasty creature swoops toward her from the left. Flames spew and singe her leaf shirt, but she ducks beneath him. Hooked claws swipe close, the bottoms of them serrated like teeth, and tear the back of Tiana’s top. Tiana’s body goes limp and she plummets.
No! My plea is worthless. Tears blur my vision. Hiding in the cave would probably be a good idea, but I can’t turn away from the horrific descent of her lifeless body. The beast swoops to retrieve Tiana a few dozen feet before collision with the ground. Her tiny body slams into leathery flesh.
Did she move? The vise on my heart loosens a notch, but tightens again as the beast rises high in the air. Tiana’s wing twitches. Slowly, Tiana inches up slimy scales. Her fingers wrap around ridges at the base of the beast’s neck. He twists, twirls and thrashes. Tiana squeezes her legs around his shoulders and holds on.
Pale fingers glide around his long, black neck. With the same sure swipe as cutting matted hair, Tiana slices the throat of the creature with her stone blade and bounds from his back in a double flip.
His flapping freezes mid-stroke and his black eyes bulge. The beast shudders and shakes as his body convulses and falls to the ground. A cloud of dust billows from the force of the impact.
Minutes pass, and I scan the horizon, looking for signs of my friends. The ground shakes as something lands close. I nearly swallow my tongue. Black eyes stare at me from the wide ledge to the left, twenty yards away. My eyes adjust to the distance in a strange way, almost like they are focusing. Chunks of rock crunch to dust under his feet. His snout sniffs the air, and a long snake-like tongue flips the air like he’s tasting for me. Plumes of smoke billow from his nostrils. Onyx scales reflect flaming trees, and his tail swishes from side to side, spraying waves of dirt.
A rock launches through the air and thunks against the beast’s skull. Rowan runs into the open area in front of it. The Kraken shakes off the hit and directs his sights on Rowan. Rowan crouches and sways with his arms out, grunting and growling. A warrior’s song and dance, wild and sure. The beast doesn’t seem to realize he too is swaying. Rowan inches backward to the edge of the cliff, leading.
Talons scratch and scrabble against the rocky terrain. A hot ember glows in the beast’s gullet. Something awful is going to happen. I know it. Rowan is running out of time.
The Kraken stills and stares at Rowan. Rowan stills and stares back. The beast has ebony eyes with a hint of blue at the edges. Something about the blue weighs heavy on my chest, almost as if it is the last remaining spot of decency in the creature. The urge to reach for the blue and hold tight overwhelms me. Darkness swirls and blots it away as his throat reaches white heat.
Rowan lifts his arms toward the heavens and clenches his fists. Wooden barbs sprout from the tops of his forearms as the monster lunges. Spears impale the jaw and neck of the brute. The Kraken convulses and its eyes bulge. With each pulse of blood pouring from its neck a little black fades from its eyes. Then, they empty completely, and only ice blue death remains.
Rowan swings his arms backwards, flinging the weight of an animal four times his size over his head. He unclenches his fists to release the load. A wet plop sounds as the barbs retract and the beast falls.
From my stoop I watch the monsters retreat from the skies. Altogether, I count three overthrown by my companions.
The smell of rancid meat fills my nostrils, and my stomach turns over. Sweat slithers a path down my spine as the hairs on my neck stand straight out in warning. He’s silent, but I feel him somewhere behind my exposed back. Why did I leave the cave?
The blow strikes my shoulder and knocks my arms from beneath me. My face slams violently into dirt and rock, and my mouth fills with grit. The metallic twang of blood laps over my tongue. I stifle the scream in my throat. I recall someone saying once, “If attacked by a wild animal, hold completely still and under no circumstances look the beast in the eyes.” The wild animal nudges my body, shoving me this way and that. His hot breath invades my cocoon and reeks of cinders and rot.
“Coward!”
Ash’s roar bounces off the rock. The echo of hope penetrates, and I lift my eyes and face him.
The monster pivots and hunkers down. Its eyes are black like onyx, and jaws drip with acrid slime. His tremendous tail thrashes and deals me one final blow. My frame slams against a boulder and my vision blurs with tears.
It growls and puffs smoke at Ash. Its scales are rough, jagged and ooze black sludge at the edge of each one. It’s much larger than Ash and I cannot help but imagine one powerful bite crushing my helper to dust. I start when Tiana places a reassuring hand upon my back.
“He’ll be fine, girlie.” She seems so certain.
I look past her to see Ash’s father leaned against a boulder with his arms across his chest. A sure grin tugs at the corner of his mouth when he looks our way. He throws his shoulders back, winks and points to his son.
I turn my attention back to the fight in time to see a curved claw puncture and then slice Ash’s side. Anger rages in Ash’s eyes and he springs up, grabs hold of the beast’s upper and lower jaws, and clamps his legs around the assassin’s throat. The beast whips and thrashes his head. Smoke puffs from his nostrils while a thin pouch of skin in its throat brightens to white-blue intensity.
“Now, Ash!” Tiana screams as she grips my shoulder.
Bone crunches as Ash rips open the mouth of the beast. The lower jaw dangles freely for a moment before Ash tears it completely from its place and slings it over the cliff into the valley below. I hide my face from this gruesome display. Another crack and the beast’s last breath gurgles out. The loud boom of a body colliding with the ground is the last thing I hear before losing consciousness.
Tiana chants a soft mantra close to my ear. Not sure if it’s a prayer or just a song, but the melody repeats in an unfamiliar language. Hands check my body for injury, and someone binds my ribcage tightly. I groan as the material is stretched and tied around my mid-section.
“She’s coming around,” Tiana says with relief. “It was too much for her to see such a thing. El knows she’ll have enough to deal with without the likes of you two showing off. Ripping his jaw off, Ash? Really? And Rowan, could you have done without throwing that beast over your head? The two of you have to remember, she’s not of our place.”
I open my eyes to two men with their heads hung low, sullen. Ash resembles his father. Their hair, Ash’s gold and Rowan’s silver, drapes over their shoulders to the middle of their backs and each has stormy blue eyes. Both of the huge men cower before the small form of Tiana.
“Yes, Mother,” Ash mumbles.
Well, that explains it.
Tiana stands, slaps her hands together to remove any debris, and picks up a lantern. “We must be on our way. They’ll send others now that they know where we are.”
I look around and find we’re in the cave. The strange lantern Tiana carries is made of vines and cobwebs. What is illuminating the web? It quivers every few seconds. After one look at my face, Tiana hands me the light.
It is cool to the touch, which is unexpected. There is a flap of webbing on the side. I lift it cautiously to peep in. A dozen fireflies dance wildly within, surrounded by leaves and flowers at the base of the lantern. I let the flap fall into place, and hand it back to Tiana.
She chuckles along with Ash and Rowan. Their eyes speak volumes. Little twitches of their faces signal conversation on a different level. I seem to be the only one who doesn’t know what’s going on.
Then I remember the tiny pebble lodged under my tongue earlier. They all must have one. Ash pulls his from his mouth and approaches me. Tiana and Rowan both remove a stone from their mouths, another from their earlobes and place them in the pouches at their hips.
Ash hands me the stone. “Will you allow me to hear your thoughts, little one?”
I’m so eager to ask my questions. I take the stone from his fingers, but hesitate a moment when his spit glistens on the surface. I rub it on my leaf suit before placing it in my mouth. Never know where that mouth has been.
It tastes different than the one Tiana had given me. While difficult to describe, is not quite as full bodied in flavor. The melody playing in Ash’s crystal plays a much simpler tune.
So many things fight for their way to the forefront, but all I can think of are the tiny stones. What are these Stones of the Son?
Ash smiles and his cheek dimples in. “Many years ago, the Son sang his song over the Fiery Rocks and filled them with promises. Each innocent received his or her promise in the form of matching crystals. They are a reminder that there is hope, even when things are dark.”
Why don’t I have a set?
His fingers rub his chin and his lips press together. “I’m not sure, little one.”
My mind teems with a thousand unanswered questions. The noise of them could probably drive someone else crazy. I remove the crystal from under my tongue, and collect my thoughts.
Ash steps toward me. “May I carry you?”
I nod my head, and Ash lifts me. We begin our journey deeper into the mountain.
Chapter 4 ~ Delineate
Darkness is easier to tolerate while gently swaying in the arms of a large man like Ash. The lantern of fireflies provides just enough light to chase away my fears. The tunnel we travel looks sculpted by centuries of current and flow. The walls ripple under my fingertips as they glide over the undulating surface. Somewhere up ahead, water trickles.
Rowan walks with Tiana floating at his side. Their hands caress every so often as they throw furtive glances toward each other in the shadows. What would it be like to feel so connected to another? Something inside of me is saddened by the thought, but I can’t find it.
Ash hums what sounds like a lullaby. How odd for a mighty warrior to be so vulnerable and gentle, yet impervious and strong. I study his face. He’s not a man at all. Almost, but not quite. Faint traces of childhood remain over his strong jaw. His eyes hold a glint of innocence. I would estimate him to be seventeen or eighteen.
He gazes down at my face and smiles. I avert my eyes.
Placing the stone to my mouth, I ask the one thing every living creature must know.
Who am I?
Ash’s eyes widen. He exhales. “Do you not know your own name, little one?”
Well yes, but that is not what I mean at all. Names are just markers, given to identify you, but they do not make up the entirety of who you are.
He weighs my words with a twitch of tightened lips. “I’ve never heard such an explanation of one’s name or who they are, but I understand what you mean. The answer is not one I may give wholly, for I only know a small part.”
My heart weakens, but I cling to his last words—a small part. Surely, a small part is better than no part at all.
Will you tell me what you do know?
He hesitates. “I’ve looked upon your face for as long as I can remember. Not directly, but in my dreams.” His cheeks tint with patches of ruddiness. “Not like you are now…not exactly, more as if you were changing with the passage of time.”
That is odd. Why do you think that is?
“I am not certain. But I knew I would see you face-to-face sometime in my life.” He halts and stares straight ahead. “It might have something to do with this—”
I follow his gaze. Rushing water churns before me, but my eyes focus on the wall across the rapids. Carvings cover the space from top to bottom and run for dozens of feet. Several torch posts are mounted along the wall but no flames flicker at their tips. We stand frozen in our places. A low rumble vibrates throughout the cavern.
From a shadowy corner, a large animal prowls into view. The furry hackles on his back stand at attention and he bares long, sharp fangs.
Ash and Rowan tense. Tiana retrieves her weapon from the pouch at her side.
A gust of wind blows past us. A crackle of blue light charges the air with bolts of static. The power of it crawls over my skin, raising bumps on my arm. What could carry wind miles into a mountain? It streams across the river and straight to the muzzle of the predator. He stiffens, sniffs the air with interest, and then the hair on his back flattens. The growl turns to panting, and his tail wags rapidly. I look up at Ash. His brow rises and he looks to his father.
Do you know this animal? I watch the hound chase its own tail spastically.
“No, I’ve never traveled this way, little one.” Ash tightens his grip on me.
The creature bounds out of sight. Moments later, he returns with something in his jaws.
I strain to see.
He pads his way to the carved wall, and stops under a torch post. Lifting his front paws, he rises up onto his hind paws and balances against the wall so he appears to stand upright. Clicking followed by sparks showering from his mouth. The first torch blazes to life. He proceeds to light each post.
Oh!
When the last torch is lit, the carvings come alive with beads of color and the illusion of motion. Shocked sounds of wonder echo through our group. At least I’m not the only one to have never seen such a thing.
What a clever creature you are.
He drops the sparker from his mouth. “I’m not a creature. I’m a Tanner! Tanner the Keeper to be exact, and I’ve waited on you for a very long time indeed!”
You speak? I ask, astonished.
“Well, of course, child. Why would I not?” He bounds effortlessly over the stirring stream. “Let me greet you properly.”
“You say your name is Tanner, but I sense that is not the complete truth.” Rowan crosses his arms and glares at Tanner.
“It’s my name now,” Tanner says indignantly. “My given name as a pup was Tan Fur.”
We all smile. Tanner’s fur is not tan at all. Rusty-red would be a better description.
He growls. “Yes, yes, laugh if you must. I’m a red wolf, but my mother didn’t know that when she named me. Wolves are colorblind.”
We all straighten our faces, not wanting to upset a creature with razor-sharp claws and fangs. Tanner also stands a good four feet from paw to shoulder. I cannot begin to guess what he weighs. His chocolate eyes shift from ferocious to kind in one blink. I definitely want to stay on the kind side.
He walks to Ash’s side and stretches his front paws toward us in a bow. He rises after a moment and licks my fingers with a warm, wet tongue. Ash sets me down near the water’s edge, and Tanner nuzzles me. It tickles and I giggle.
“You are more beautiful than the carvings depict,” Tanner says.
I scratch his back, and his leg thumps wildly.
Whatever do you mean, sir? I ask, hiding another smile.
“The story on the wall is of you. All of you, actually.” He turns his gaze from one person to the next.
“How can you be so confident?” Tiana flitters over the water, squinting at the wall.
Tanner takes no notice. He turns his attention to Ash’s side. I’d forgotten the deep cut Ash received from the beast. Tiana had put a bandage of web over it, but my body covered it from my sight. I flinch at the thought of my weight pressing down upon his wound.
Tanner laps away the web. Ash’s injury throbs scarlet. Dried pus crusts the edges of the curved cleft with more oozing at the center. He sucks his breath through his teeth as Tanner paws the spot to remove the pus. Ash sighs in relief when the wolf licks the gash. The slit shrinks to an insubstantial white scar.
How is that possible? Injuries do not heal so quickly. My body’s ongoing state of broken tells me this.
“Wolf saliva is one of the greatest gifts a wolf can give to his master,” Ash says. “But, I’m not your master, Tanner. What did I do to earn such an honor?”
“It is not a gift from me, but from my master, and you cannot earn something that’s given freely,” Tanner says.
“Rowan, you have to see this!” Tiana interrupts.
“What is it, my love?” Rowan leaps over the rapid water.
“Hold onto my neck, little one.” Ash crouches in front of me.
I lean into his back, reach my arms around his neck, and my legs around his hips. He stands and backs up so he may get a running start. We are over before I can be afraid.
Tanner follows. “I have waited five centuries for you to arrive.”
Five hundred years is a very long time. Surely he’s not serious. A few silver streaks decorate his pelt. I look into his eyes. Wisdom glimmers there.
How old are you, Tanner?
He puffs his chest. “I am six-hundred and eighty four years old…come next week.”
You have spent almost your entire life waiting for us? How can any creature live so long? What a burden it must be to live one’s life alone and waiting.
“What greater honor can a red wolf have? To wait for the Chosen One is not a burden, but a duty bestowed only to the most favored in the land. There are only five of us.”
“Five what?” Tiana asks, as she continues to study the mural.
“Keepers, of course! We were commissioned five hundred years ago to protect pieces of the prophecy. Each of us is to wait for your coming and then join you in your journey.” Tanner leads Ash and me to the first section of the elaborate wall.
A heap of pathetic girl lies in a dark and dirty chamber. Her long hair is matted with grime and her bones protrude with malnutrition. Two men search levels of a castle…no, a prison. They find her and the younger of the two gently raises her like a child. The next segment is a fight between the two men and ghastly looking creatures dressed in armor and brandishing swords and shields. The girl waits behind a barrel with closed eyes. The section ends with the trio escaping into quickly fading night.
“Poor child! I have wept many a night for your sufferings. Nearly dead you were,” Tanner says softly at my side, and nuzzles me once more.
Next is the picture of the beautiful landscape of trees and mountains. A fairy. Tiana! The picture on the wall bubbles at the stream. Rose and lilac petals rise up, and the girl sleeps on a rock.
“So at peace. I often wondered what held you in such blissful contentment,” Tanner adds as we move to the next portion of the flowing stone tapestry. The hackles on his neck rise once again and his chest vibrates a growl as we gaze upon the scene.
The next section flicks a series of scenes so exact, it can be nothing else but the place we left a short time ago. There are the creatures I heard Tiana call Krakens, and my three companions in battle while the girl hides. There is the monster and the young warrior destroying it. My heart melts as he goes to her side. He is so gentle when he gathers her in his arms.
“Sneaky fiend! Coming up on a poor defenseless girl such as you. Shameful! Outrageous! I have never trusted the Krakens.” Tanner paces the floor.
Pages flip in my mind. A picture book lies open on a desk and a slender, pale hand turns the page. Words scroll across the top of the page and the vivid picture below looks nothing like the leathery monsters in the valley. The image distorts and disappears.
Isn’t a Kraken a squid?
“Well, yes, but the dragons took on the name five hundred years ago when they overtook the island of Krakatoa.” Tanner walks on, but I get the feeling there is more to the story than the simple description he has given me.
Ash moves us to the next panel. The group walks along a tunnel. The young warrior carries the girl. They enter the chamber with the wall and river. Wind whips past in gusty circles and carries lilacs and rose petals across the stream to a great red wolf.
“That is how I knew it was you,” Tanner says. “The flowers on the breeze, just like my master told me.”
Who were the Keepers commissioned by, and what are the prophecies for?
“My Master commissioned us and the prophecies tell of the coming of the Chosen One.
Who is the Chosen One?
I look at the unusual family that has rescued and guarded me. Tiana is delicacy over strength. Rowan is fierceness and wisdom. Ash is a combination of his parents. Any of them could be this Chosen One.
“Why, it is you, child,” Tanner answers simply.
Chapter 5 ~ Drowning
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. I’ve heard this from somewhere, by someone. I am overwhelmed by the dynamic depiction of one day unfolding on the wall: two brave warriors, a fairy and a giant red wolf. The girl in the carvings is a stranger to my eyes but the others have come to be my only memories and the only beauty I know.
Will you set me by the stream, Ash?
He nods.
In the valley, you and Rowan had weapons. Where are they now?
Ash trips over his own feet, nearly dropping me. He recovers, but plops me down without his usual care. His eyes dart back and forth as he gnaws on the side of his lip.
Tiana puts her hand on Ash’s arm. “Some questions have no easy answer. Perhaps you are hungry, girlie?”
“Yes, little one. Are you thirsty or hungry? I can fetch you something.”
My stomach groans, but I don’t wish to burden anyone further than I already have. Ash looks at my stomach, sighs and hurries off.
“Some things are evil, girlie. They wish only to harm and control the world around them. Our flavor of evil came by way of a sorcerer named Abaddon. He cursed our world and separated the five kingdoms. Some of us got an extra dose.” Tiana pats me on the head and leaves.
The name Abaddon twists me inside, my stomach knotting. My mouth fills with warm salty spit and I no longer feel hungry. I remove the crystal from my mouth. My emotions are already raw. I don’t care to share my mind’s ramblings too.
I watch the river roll by. Torchlight shines like gemstones off the surface. How many years has it flowed through the mountain?
There is no way out of the chamber except the way we came. I shiver at the thought of journeying back to the valley where dead dragons lie. I cannot go back to where enemies lie in wait. I am no warrior.
The words scribed below the last section’s carvings read, “Only the heart of the Chosen One can open the way.”
The Chosen One. Ominous. Whatever this person is “chosen” to do, I cannot imagine why Tanner would believe it to be me. Of all of those present, I am the weakest. Even dainty Tiana is sturdy and fierce. I cannot walk, talk or remember where I am from. The others at least know who they are.
I lean over the water. The rapid rushing stills. I pull away and the water churns again. I lean forward…stillness. The top is as smooth as ice.
I startle at the face staring back at me. My finger reaches out to touch the cheek of the girl. Is that me? The water ripples outward in perfect rings. The face distorts, and the waves settle. I stare at the reflection once again. It is—I am—the girl in the carvings.
My throat tightens as I consider Tanner’s centuries of sacrifice. Ash, Tiana and Rowan’s near-sacrifice of their lives on my behalf. It is too much to give for just me.
Tears brim, and I squeeze my eyes against the salty droplets. I gulp air in an attempt to staunch the looming flood. Crying will not help.
A single tear breaks free and tracks down my cheek. I open my eyes as it slips from my chin. All goes silent. The others stand frozen, their conversation fallen to a halt. The bead of moisture continues its slow descent into the silent water.
When it collides with the river, a roar resounds in the cavern. The shockwaves from all around rock me to the bone. I topple forward. The water whips to and fro, the currents raging. I clutch Ash’s crystal and struggle to hold air in my lungs.
Twigs claw at my hair, ripping strands from my scalp. I hold my breath as long as I can, but a rock looms. I slam into it, spitting and sputtering. I suck in one gulp of water. My chest burns, but the depth and speed of the river lessen. I wash ashore.
I scrabble at the sandy beach. An onslaught of hacking doubles me into a ball. Splinters of rib poke into my lungs. Each cough washes a wave of nausea through me. Finally, the coughs subside and I can raise my head.
I am outside. The crisp air chills my wet skin. Shafts of moonlight pierce the darkness. I shudder. I was last outside in a burning valley with ghastly beasts spewing flames. Now, I am without my protectors.
I study the landscape. A thick forest lines the beach’s edge with no mountains in sight. The river must have carried me a long way. Surely, my friends will know I fell in the water. Will they follow me? Or am I lost in this new wilderness all alone? I open my hand and find it empty of Ash’s stone. What will I do?
I lift my gaze upwards toward the sky. The moon is too big, and the stars too bright. Several stars blink brighter than the rest. I roll to my back, ignoring the pain of sharp rocks and broken ribs. Hundreds of brighter stars move in an advancing pattern. I cannot help smiling as I realize they are not stars.
Stifling a groan, I sit up.
The not-stars are five-inch versions of Tiana, only much quieter. Their thin, silky wings are translucent and ivory skin covers fine bone structure. A dozen of the creatures hover a few feet away. Their wings glow like green fireflies. The one in front wears a tiny crown made of flowers.
“We’re so happy you’re here, child,” she says in a soft voice. “We came as soon as the water returned.”
Her coal black hair falls in ringlets halfway down her back, and her face reminds me of Tiana’s. Her lavender eyes are a shade lighter but they are rimmed with the same fan of dark lashes.
Concern creases her brow as she looks past me. Maybe she is waiting for me to respond but without the crystal I cannot speak. I don’t wish to force more unintelligible noise out of my mouth.
She lifts her chin in a silent command and the others scatter. The light in her wings intensifies, and the air around her shimmers. She grows from five inches to five feet in a few blinks.
“My sister has clothed you for hiding. Let me get you something a little less itchy.”
I hadn’t noticed before but now that she’s said so, the leaves do tickle and scratch my skin.
Sister? That explains a great deal, but Tiana has to be much, much older. I’d guess mother before sister. Maybe she’s mistaken as to who made my leaf suit.
She twiddles her slender fingers. Fine silken strings appear from thin air and weave intricately together. In minutes, she has woven the most beautiful dress in the same color as freshly budded leaves. As she places it over my head, I smell sunshine and springtime.
She ties the string at the back of my dress and then dusts her hands off. “There! Now, to get something in your stomach.”
My angry stomach roars.
The woman flutters into the trees, and returns with a basket of mushrooms, dried fruits and an oiled water skin nestled to one side. I nod in thanks and devour her offering.
Delight twinkles in her eyes. “You’re not what I expected. But not to worry. El and the Son are full of surprises.”
The woman cocks her head to the side, gazes into the distance and listens with twitching ears. Her face relaxes. The ground behind me vibrates with heavy footfalls. I turn and Tanner plows me over. He laps his tongue over my face as he sniffs and whines in pleasure. Ash is only a few steps behind the wolf and wraps us both in a big bear hug.
“Did you lose something, little one?” He releases us and holds his palm out.
The moon shines on the small stone in his hand, and my mind eases.
“Mari!” Tiana shrieks, sweeping past Ash. She wraps her arms around the other woman and they spin in their jubilation. Tiana lifts a spiral of long, black hair “You haven’t changed a bit.”
Mari smiles through tears as she caresses a handful of bluntly cut silver hair.