Empire Awakening (Maledorian Chronicles Book 2) Read online

  But Tal was polite and worshipped Lysha, so Elendria accepted him into their group. Devin found him a horse to ride, though she imagined he’d be more than delighted to ride with Lysha.

  They left Damak with little fanfare. The villagers seemed relieved to see them go, though Elendria sensed bewilderment and loss in the eyes of many of the ladies of ill-repute. They’d lose their livelihood and would probably leave for another town filled with men more inclined for vice. She doubted these miners—her miners, she thought wryly—would waste their gold on women and booze, and as a matter of fact, she was quite determined they wouldn’t. They’d have work to do in the mines.

  As they rode toward the mountains, in the way the vision had shown her, Devin told her the path was considered cursed and only used by the witches. She sensed a slight tremor in his voice as he told them legends surrounding the sacred part of the mountain. Maggie’s eyes went wide as she listened with rapt attention, though instead of fear, her eyes displayed bravery and eagerness.

  Soon they made the steep ascent up the rocky trail, followed by the miners on their mules. She spied a flock of crows circling overhead, and a sense of foreboding fell over her mind. What looked like the same large crow from the lake dove down and cawed ahead of her path. At once, she knew it was the witch’s familiar coming to lead them to their lair.

  The elevation rose rapidly on their ascent, and she had to lean forward and clutch the saddle-horn to keep from sliding off the horse. After several hours of snaking up and around the treacherous path, they reached a plateau rising lazily into a dense forest filled with soldier pines and fragrant cedars.

  The light was dim due to the thick clouds and soupy mist. Though when the path penetrated the forest, darkness reigned and gave off the suffocating feeling of being crushed. And with the absence of light, the cold of the mountain pressed in, and she released a small cough in the frigid, wet air. She wrapped her cloak tightly around her neck and looked at Devin.

  “Should I cast a spell of light?”

  He glanced at the forest with narrowed eyes. “Not a wise move, I’d say. Such a spell would likely attract the pixies and sprites.” He looked grim. “But then again, if you don’t, and we keep riding in the darkness, we’re bound to break our necks or fall into some hole or trap. Either way is just as bad as the other.”

  The crow cawed ahead as if in answer, so she decided to summon the spell. Soon the emerald-green forest was illuminated in a warm, golden light. She commanded the light to expand and separate into three separate orbs, one in front and two behind, to light the way for the rest of the group. Hopefully, it was enough as they rode with fourteen miners, as well as the others, all riding single-file.

  During their journey to Damak, she’d tested her ability to split the magical ball of light several times but had only succeeded in controlling three different orbs. Once she tried four, but the balls blinked furiously, and she lost control of the spell. Now, she pushed the third orb back farther until she could see the last miner faintly illuminated by the glow. She prayed it would be enough for them to navigate without injury. Her anger toward them had turned to concern, and she now considered them her responsibility to direct, lead, and protect.

  “How is that such a bad thing? I can only hope to be lucky enough to catch sight of a pixie.” Lysha sent an amused grin to Devin. “It’s such a beautiful, mystical forest.”

  “Be careful what you wish. Fairy folk aren’t known to be friends with mortals.” Shells’ face turned sober as she gazed into the forest.

  “That’s not always true. When I was a girl, I had a chance encounter with the fairies of Maren Downs. We called them the woods-folk.” Elendria blurted out the words before she could censor herself. She realized it was the first time she’d revealed this fact to anyone.

  “Really? You actually spoke with a fairy? I find that hard to believe.” Lysha’s eyes went wide, and Elendria felt uncomfortable at the weight of her stare. “Are you sure it wasn’t simply the fanciful imaginations of your childhood?”

  “Don’t say that. It was as real to me as you are right now. Though I’ll admit, it was a long time ago when I was a young girl.” Her voice went surprisingly soft and distant, and for a second, she felt far away from her body. “I only recently remembered the experience.”

  “I had imaginary friends. No one else could see them. Does that mean they were real?” Lysha studied Elendria, a challenging look in her eyes. “It’s not like I don’t believe you, but do you have any recent evidence to connect with your childhood memories?”

  “Do you think me daft? Of course, I have. Otherwise, why would I mention it to you and everyone else? I heard the woods-folk again in the swampland south of Criswall, at the cursed Temple of Ba’al.” Now she was floating and could barely tell if she was in the forest of the Great Barrier Mountains or the forest south of Criswall or in the enchanted forest of Maren Downs. It all blended into a smoky haze. Reality was slipping away.

  “Why didn’t you ever tell me? And you remember what they said?”

  Elendria grew quiet at Lysha’s question, knowing she could never reveal their words. Her eyes sent Lysha a warning glance, and she relented and nodded in understanding.

  “It is possible for the woods-folk to be friends with mortals,” Elendria said, “though they can be cryptic and troublesome to understand. But their words are never to be shared.”

  Devin gave her a strange, protracted look and finally returned to studying the path ahead. “My grandma had the gift. She told me she heard the fairies talk to her all the time. And the same as you, she refused to tell me what they told her. I hated it and asked her about it all the time. She’d only smile and tell me that maybe, one day, if I were lucky, I’d hear them myself.”

  “And did you?” asked Elendria.

  He shook his head, eyes disappointed.

  “Count yourself fortunate then.” Shells gave an irritated tsk. “Lest the madness strikes you down and you find yourself wandering the forest like the raving ones.”

  Elendria felt an instant flash of irritation at the girl. Shells seemed to catch her feeling and gave a satisfied grin.

  “Unlike Lady Elendria, here, who is touched by the moon. Lunacy often strikes young witches, and it stays with them forever.”

  “This lunatic witch saved your life back in Damak, and you know it.” Elendria gave her a long, hard look, and Shells flushed at the intensity of her gaze, finally looking away. Satisfied, Elendria studied the pathway winding through the dense forest. Ferns and foliage covered the forest floor. Farther off, she caught sight of the faint glimmer of gold and silver light shining underneath the greenery. It gave an enchanted feeling.

  “What are those?” said Elendria.

  “Look closely. They’re phosphorescent mushrooms.” Devin pointed to a place where the light was particularly bright. “If you like, we can let the horses rest for a moment, and I can show you the fungi.”

  Once again, Shells looked upset at his deference to Elendria, and she wondered if it was wise to continue engaging with him. Perhaps it was better for her to refuse him and keep pressing on to their destination. But her stubbornness took over after glancing at Shells’ possessive eyes.

  “Since you offered, I’d love to compare them to the mushrooms of Maren Downs.” Elendria led her horse off the path, and before she could dismount, Devin was there in a flash, his strong arms ready to help her down. Instead of rejecting him, she slid down, his hands gripping her waist. At his touch, she realized the cold had fled her body. A trickle of sweat beaded on her back.

  “You shouldn’t have helped me first,” she whispered, staring at him with a look of warning.

  He blushed and looked away. When Shells cleared her throat in annoyance, studying the two of them, he pretended to be absorbed in the mushrooms.

  “Is it essential for us to stop?” she protested.

  In response, a large crow flapped its wings and landed, cawing at them in urgent irritation. Elendria narrow
ed her eyes at the crow. Should they continue?

  But Devin pressed ahead through the forest. Elendria waited for Lysha, wanting some distance from the woodsman. Lysha came close and whispered that she thought Devin was attracted to her.

  “Don’t be silly,” Elendria said. “How could he not want her? Just look at Shells. She gorgeous and sexy. He’s just acting foolish, like most guys.”

  They grinned together and joined Tal in scampering after the woodsman, but Maggie was faster, and she raced ahead until she was side-by-side with Devin, her affectionate, worshipful eyes adoring him.

  “Can’t you eat the mushrooms?” said Maggie, and she slipped her small hand into his.

  “It’s not advisable to annoy the gods and fairies of the forest. They keep a watchful eye on all living things.” He stopped for a moment as if lost in thought. “If I can only remember the charm my grandma taught me, just a small song she’d sing before hunting game or foraging in the forest. She said it protected one from any curses that might arise from disturbing the sanctity of the forest. Let’s see, how did it go?”

  To Maggie’s squeals of delight, Devin began humming a tune, his melodious voice clear and haunting.

  Faraway past the green rolling hills,

  There’s an enchanted grove

  Buried in the high mountains,

  A lonely princess longs for her love.

  She weaves her magic on the lute,

  And sings a song of memories,

  To the creatures of the forest.

  Her lover has fled,

  To the north, marched off to war,

  Only in her dreams does he visit.

  Years pass, and her dreams come alive,

  A madness, some say.

  Her lover delights each day.

  They enjoy the sacred grove,

  Picking flowers, herbs, and ‘shrooms,

  Her lover hunts game,

  With his ghostly bow,

  The arrows never miss.

  A prayer is said,

  A prayer is heard,

  And the lords of the grove listen.

  Hear now, for I shall not stray,

  From the path of purity and joy.

  Bless this bow, bless this our hands,

  And may the sacred grove give up its gold.

  The air crackled with electric energy so powerful Elendria could feel it sting her fingertips. They waited, awestruck, as the woodsman’s voice faded away. From the look in everyone’s eyes, they could feel an undeniable power flowing through the forest.

  They gave him exuberant applause. Even Shells seemed delighted at his performance, and she snuggled up next to him. She planted her lips on his in a long, passionate kiss. Elendria could almost feel the heat of their arousal, and it made her uncomfortable and curious. Maggie pretended to vomit, while Lysha and Tal grew quiet as they cast cautious glances at each other in a tense, enraptured moment.

  “Did you have to ruin the song?” Maggie said and gave Shells a smack of irritation.

  “What do you know about love?” Shells said, grinning at Devin.

  “I know enough to keep away. It’s like a disease.” Maggie snorted, then looked at Devin. “Can we pick the mushrooms now?”

  The woodsman laughed and tore himself away from Shells and gave Maggie a nod of approval.

  “If I remembered the charm correctly, we can try. But I’d prefer to ask those with magical ability. Did you feel anything?” Devin’s eyes locked with Elendria’s.

  Her face flushed with embarrassment. She felt something all right, but not the kind of feeling he was thinking about. “It was a strange thing. There was a magical power that permeated the air at the end of your song. I believe the charm worked. What do you think, Lysha?”

  “It wasn’t strange, but it was powerful and pure. Your song was enchanting and sung beautifully. There was a kind of opening or unlocking.” Lysha bobbed her head as if convinced. “I suppose we could go about it carefully. Do you know which mushrooms to pick, woodsman?”

  “I do. Indeed, I do. Each one for its uses, my grandma would say. One for poison, one for crippling, one for blinding, one for healing, and many for the stew.” Devin gave a warm laugh of remembrance. “Good ‘ol Grandma, I should visit her again soon. I miss her charms and songs and sayings. And her cooking… See over here? This mushroom is delicious in soup. She’d make it with venison, leeks, cabbage, pepper, and potatoes. I can almost taste it now.”

  Tal didn’t wait for permission. He scampered over and picked a mushroom and several similar ones, his face determined and proud. Lysha joined him. Maggie raced off as well, her eyes eager on the hunt. Devin stepped lightly through the foliage and selected additional mushrooms, identifying the flavors of each, the healing properties of others, and pointing out the ones to avoid.

  Shells brought several small sacks and gave one to each of them, and soon Elendria’s bag was full of the fragrant fungi. She’d picked only the healing varieties, wanting to produce some potions later after she had help from the witches.

  “All this talk of food is making me hungry,” said Maggie. “Can we make a stew?”

  “No, I don’t think we should…” Devin stopped and looked around the forest as if suddenly alarmed. “I think we should go—”

  He clapped his mouth shut and scanned the forest, the high branches animated by a stiff wind. There was something new and strange swirling around. The hairs were rising on the back of Elendria’s neck.

  The crow cawed loud and insistently. More crows joined, fervent and boisterous. Her attention snapped over to where the birds bounced up and down, complaining in urgent tones.

  “You’re not incorrect. It’s unwise for us to wait here any longer. Let’s return to the horses and go. I sense a powerful presence… a new arrival.” Elendria tugged her cloak tightly around her neck and jogged back to the mare.

  The horse let out an agitated snort, and the other horses whinnied, their nostrils flared and eyes tensed. After getting struck by a sudden burst of wind, she mounted the horse and wheeled around, aiming back toward the path. The crows were in a frenzy now, cawing so ferociously it was as if, at any moment, they might come under attack.

  The miners stared at her with concerned eyes, and one of them rode up alongside and asked her if everything was all right. She warned him to stay alert. He returned to the others, face grave.

  “There’s something foul stirring,” said Devin, and at her nod of agreement, he turned back and studied Lysha and Tal’s frightened faces. Even though Elendria was still casting the spell of light, it seemed significantly darker now than it was before, as if some magic was choking the power out of her spell.

  Indeed, she felt weaker. There was some oppressive force falling over her like a thick fog.

  The crows gave another hysterical cry and flapped their wings as if desperately trying to gain some distance.

  Mist steamed out from many places on the forest floor. She could see why the birds were so anxious. What seemed at first like a gentle and magical place had now metamorphosed into a nightmare. The air had turned rancid and suffocating. As she fought down the urge to gag, she heard several hacking coughs behind her. By now, she was so hot from the spell she was holding that rivulets of sweat poured down her back. Her stomach itched from the salt. If she wasn’t careful, she knew she’d overheat from the exertion.

  The mist thickened into many wavering figures of shadow and light.

  Figures shambled in the eerie night.

  Lysha and Tal let out a pair of terrified yelps. Elendria turned her gaze in a fright. A pair of tall, spindly mist-wraiths were shuffling toward them. Their black eyes were empty sockets of malevolence. Hands rose, displaying translucent skin and what lived underneath the skin. Infected and pock-marked, the wriggling, oozing skin seemed alive with silver worms.

  She clamped a hand over her mouth, suppressing a scream. What were those things? If they didn’t come up with a plan of escape, Elendria had a feeling they were as good as dead.


  One last faint cawing sound and the crow disappeared.

  They were left with the soft, hideous sound of feet shuffling across the ground. More figures coalesced and clambered through the mist. Scores aimed their path toward intercepting theirs.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Thousands of the unholy army of constructs had been brought to life, if you dared call such things alive. Over the last few days, Madam Lassengre had spied on the priests of Ba’al as they worked their dark magic out in the forest south of Criswall, near the old temple where Lady Elendria had once strayed.

  The sorceress changed her disguise each day for fear of being discovered: sometimes an old worker, sometimes a stone, and other times a tree or a bush, but always she remained in the distance.

  Elendria’s father, Lord Rigar Orensal, was there every day for the creation of the constructs. He taught the cultists the old, strange magic, and corrected their castings. Still, there were many failed attempts. Gruesome, disfigured monsters that were unable to stand erect, and instead crawled, twitched, or writhed on the ground. To each they fed the flame and said prayers to Ba’al, begging him for guidance.

  And whether from their god or from practice and experimentation, it worked. The priests improved and grew strong, both in the casting of their fabrications and their command over the dark arts.

  The real reason the sorceress spied on them constantly was to attempt to learn their magic. But it was of no use. They said no words aloud and must have communicated using their minds. There were no finger flourishes to go with the castings, nothing that could give Madam Lassengre insights into reproducing their spells.

  So, each day, she trudged home early, despondent and tired from the effort of holding the spell of disguise for even an hour. And when she rested at night, she practiced the sleep of renewal, a kind of meditation that allowed her strength to return.

  But the toll on her health was enormous. The sorceress knew she could mount no credible opposition against the cultists or the boy, not with the army of constructs protecting them. Perhaps, she told herself, if she had acted earlier, she might have been able to kill the boy or to purge the demon from his body. But now, it was too late.