Hi patient followers! I thank you again for being so patient and waiting for more stories. I recently posted a second chapter to Convergence, and I have another few chapters coming soon. I've struggled recently with a desire to keep writing. Also, for those of you who were disappointed with the ending of Poison Ivy, I plan to write an alternate ending.
Again, thank you for all the e-mails and encouraging comments. They helped me make the decision to keep writing. I hope you enjoy the stories I make as much as I like making them.
Soundtrack:
PVRIS - Death of Me, from album Use Me
Shelter, Machineheart
Vendetta, UNSECRET, Krigare
Doomed, by Reliqa
____________
Four years ago
"Hark! Be that my lost bounty of woolen socks? You there! Unhand that satchel at once!"
Adrika stands tall atop the smooth stone of the jetty and points a wooden sword directly at Braelen's heart. Backed to the very edge of the boulder, Braelen snarls and lifts the satchel in a blatant challenge. "You will have to kill me first, Dark Queen of the Seas!" she sneers, kicking off her leather boots. Already barefoot, Ri affords her opponent a few moments to finish her task before she charges forward, and giggling uncontrollably, Braelen dives, quite ungracefully, into the clear waters of the lake, along with her satchel of woolen bounty, surrounded by a protective shield Ri had placed around it hours ago.
Laughing at her friend's clumsy dive and silly antics, Ri tosses the sword behind her where it skids across the grey stone before coming to a halt a few yards away. Sonya pushes an image of her displeased frown just before Ri makes her own dive, causing her to falter at the last moment. She lands sideways in a dive equally as disastrous as Brae's and kicks up to the surface, shrieking and laughing. She sends an image of herself looking scolded and regretful back to the only other halfling in the village, who is presently eating a large assortment of delectable cheeses and breads purchased this morning at market.
Movement to her right catches her eye, and she spins around. Spotting Patrick as he makes smooth, strong strokes that quickly carry him closer to the central island, where she knows he will pause to catch his breath before swimming right back, her heart seems to dip into her belly as it kicks up a staccato rhythm. The damnable organ always seems to do this when she spots the object of her adolescent admiration.
"Trick doesn't ever play with us anymore," she says to Braelen as her arms slice through the clear, cool water like twin blades, only stopping when she is within splashing distance of her friend. Brae rolls her eyes and sighs. "He thinks we're entirely too old to be playing Pirates and Rebels."
Ri scoffs, her legs kicking smoothly beneath the surface to keep her head and shoulders above water. "That's ridiculous. You can never be too old for Pirates and Rebels! He's just upset because we win all the time."
Braelen shrugs, slowly making her way back to the small beach where Sonya sits in the middle of a large green and blue checkered blanket. "Maybe we are too old, Ri. Tabitha and Kinsley never come anymore, either. I heard they go to the bluffs with the Sanders boys."
Ri feels a rush of jealousy and doesn't reply. She'd love to go to the bluffs with boys, one boy in particular, but her father, or rather, her father's men, would never allow it. This small beach and natural jetty have become her only sanctuary, the one place she can go where her guardians remain hidden in the surrounding thickets and mostly leave them alone. Besides, she's not entirely sure what one even
does
with a boy at the bluffs.
Glancing back at Braelen, who has dragged herself out of the lake and is making her way over to Sonya, Ri treads water for a moment longer before diving under once more. The sounds of the world are muffled and silenced as she slips deeper into the silken darkness, and with eyes closed, she allows her skin to feel the soothing touch of a peaceful void. Vivid and phosphorescent greens and pearl whites dart and swirl behind her eyelids, rising and falling in waves with the life force of the tiny creatures sharing the lake with her.
A rough hand slips across the back of her neck, and she breaks the surface, gasping at the unexpected touch. Patrick grins at her and playfully slaps the water, sending a torrent of clear, cool droplets to splash against her face. "Who won?" he asks, humor coloring his words.
"Pffft. I did. I always do," Ri boasts, losing herself a little in his flint-colored eyes. If one didn't know Patrick and Braelen well, one would be hard-pressed to believe them to be siblings. Braelen, with her hair like fire, complete with streaks of sun-gold and flame-blue, has eyes with a peculiar burning shade of auburn, and contrasts sharply with her brother's mocha brown hair and piercing grey eyes. Of course, there is a very simple explanation for this difference, one that few people know and one she was once told would be dangerous if revealed to the wrong person.
Braelen is no ordinary Fae.
Patrick smirks and tugs lightly on her hair, dragging the raven black locks through the water until it ripples like silk around his fingers. "I'm going to do a few more laps. See you around, Peanut," he says, releasing her hair and floating backwards until he's far enough away to turn and dip beneath the surface.
Peanut.
She scoffs, hating the nickname that keeps her trapped in perpetual childhood. Honestly. How was a girl supposed to feel comfortable in her changing skin, when the only boy she'd ever crushed on continuously called her a nickname meant to tease her less-than-impressive height?
She watches for a while before turning around and following Braelen out of the lake and over to sample a few of Sonya's marketplace finds, chewing slowly on olive bread and some kind of sharp, delicious cheese. A niggling feeling of unease lifts the hairs on the back of her neck, and she looks up to see Braelen watching her with an intensity she's only seen from her friend once before.
"Brae?" she asks, a bit unsteadily. The burning auburn of Braelen's eyes have risen to a raging inferno, and Adrika can almost see the flames blazing behind her pupils.
"
Yeamin im drona, fitiona thaburio cuyano,"
her friend whispers in a voice not quite her own. Chills skate up Adrika's spine as the Oden words strike a familiar chord somewhere deep inside, like a lost memory, or a distant dream. Sonya, sensing her distress, lets out a high-pitched whine that is answered immediately by a barrage of her father's men, some of them circling the checkered blanket and some scouting the perimeter of the lake, hunting down the source of Sonya's unease. Shouted commands break up the tranquility of the afternoon, and Braelen blinks, the flames behind her eyes settling into burning embers.
"What's wrong?" Braelen asks, looking around at the commotion with a dazed expression on her face. Adrika can barely hear the question through the blood pounding through her ears, and she doesn't answer.
Her father taught her about the lost language, the old Oden words that carry such strength and power that they'd been forbidden and then forgotten. Forgotten, by all but a few. A few who carried them close, protected and sealed, passing them on through the generations. Adrika knows just enough of the language to recognize the simmering power that whispers across the skin and weaves through the air when spoken. And she knows just enough about her friend to know that the words she just murmured, are words she had never been taught, had never learned.
The message those softly spoken words carried was undeniably meant for Adrika. She can feel them, even now, slicing into her skin and imprinting themselves onto her mind.
Yeamin im drona, fitiona thaburio cuyano.
War approaches, and you must be ready to fight.
..................................................................................................
