The Chronicles of Starlyn (Calthoria Chronicles Book 1) Read online

  On the sixth night, Starlyn sat by the green fire Shronan made. Most kheshlars were still cautious about approaching the mage, unsure what to make of him or his magic. Starlyn had no fear for the man who saved her life. Anaela sat next to Starlyn on a log across from Shronan. Near them sat Vil’ek and Vaelmirr on another log. They were very different in appearance from each other. Vil’ek had straight brown hair going down to his muscular shoulders, while Vaelmirr’s dirty blond hair fell shoulder length, his body thin and toned. Vaelmirr carried a broadsword as opposed to the two scimitars of Vil’ek’s. Vaelmirr’s armor weighed more to support his slower style weapon.

  Vaelmirr’s hair and armor were different than most kheshlars, he wasn’t from the kheshlarn capital Sudegam. He came from one of the independent high kheshlarn villages in the forest surrounding Sudegam. The villages had their own government, but remained faithful to the rule of the king. They were often forgotten about, but there were as many kheshlars in the villages as inside of Sudegam.

  Shronan sat, glaring at Starlyn. Hunger tormented him as his eyes focused on the peach he twirled in his fingers. He preferred a diet with cooked meat, yet there he sat with a peach in his hand as a few dozen apple cores lay by his feet. Hunger consumed him as he ate fruit after fruit without satisfaction. Starlyn understood his need for meat, but the rest of the kheshlars despised meat eaters. Humans were considered unnatural, even inhumane because of their craving for the dead flesh of animals. Shronan took a large bite of the peach as he studied his companions.

  Starlyn held her head high, causing her long blonde hair to flutter in the wind. She would not show him fear again, only courage—the same as she had to show the rest of the kheshlars. She had to be courageous, even though concern distressed her when she thought about her mother and sister. She didn’t want to lead, but inside she knew she had to.

  Vil’ek appeared anxious as he rubbed his hands on the hilts of his scimitars. He jumped at each sound around them, whether it be an animal or an insect.

  Starlyn studied her new friend Anaela. Anaela wore a two piece green plate mail with swirls of silver inside its silver edges. Silver chain mail covered her entire body under the two plates guarding her chest and groin. Since Anaela was an archer, she didn’t need full plate mail, instead choosing to wear a light chain mail. Agility was more important for an archer of her skill. A long dark green cape hung on her back from a silver chain around her neck.

  Shronan stirred at a noise from the bushes. Starlyn and he peered into the brush, finding a draeyk watching them. Its red eyes glowed. Shronan jumped to his feet. The creature bolted away. Vil’ek, Vaelmirr, and Starlyn rushed to follow. Anaela trailed close behind. When they stepped from the bushes, the creature had vanished from sight.

  “He needs to be stopped before they all know.” Vil’ek glanced at the mage for confirmation.

  Instead of turning to Vil’ek, Shronan spun, studying each one of them. His face stayed relaxed, quite the opposite of Vil’ek. Even Starlyn felt a little on edge with the creature escaping. He nodded to Starlyn before turning to face Anaela.

  “This is why you are here, Anaela. Go after the draeyk—stop him. Use your stealth and speed,” Shronan said.

  Anaela opened her mouth to speak, but snapped it shut before nodding. She dashed into the forest with incredible speed. Her cape flashed behind her in the wind as she ran between bushes and trees with ease. The last Starlyn saw of Anaela, she disappeared over the top of a hill.

  They drifted back to camp. Starlyn paced back and forth in front of the smoldering fire pit. She waited for several minutes, almost losing her patience, until Anaela appeared through the bushes with the draeyk on her back. It tried to squirm, but she held it tight. Starlyn wondered why the creature still lived. She would have slaughtered it in a moment without hesitation.

  “Why did you bring that … creature back?” Starlyn asked.

  “I was not instructed to kill,” Anaela said.

  “Starlyn, don’t let your hatred for what these creatures did to you get in the way. Anaela did right. We need to question it to find what it knows about what your sister is doing,” Shronan said.

  “Can you understand them?” Starlyn asked.

  “Yes, they speak in our tongue, though not with clarity.”

  Shronan strode to the draeyk and lay it against a tree. Swirling green magic covered his hands, sparking as he touched the creature. The kheshlars surrounding them shrank away in fear. The injured draeyk opened its eyes, staring at Shronan with bared teeth.

  “Where is Arria. What is she planning?” Shroann asked.

  “I willl telll you nothinggg.”

  “I disagree.”

  Shronan’s hands glowed a darker green before energy blasted into the draeyk. It shrieked, convulsing all over. Shronan continued blasting energy into the creature until its screams subsided. Starlyn stepped backward, watching in horror.

  “Answer the question, or your death will be the most agonizing any living creature could imagine.”

  “Youu arree tooo late … sshe returnss tooo Sssudegamm.”

  Shronan’s eyes widened. He took a step back. He spun, grabbing an obsidian arrow from Anaela’s quiver. The arrow immersed itself in green ice at his touch before he threw it at the creature. The arrow penetrated the creature’s jaw, freezing its entire body. A green sphere of light shot from his hand, shattering the creature into thousands of pieces of ice. Shronan shook his head as his nose wrinkled.

  Shronan stomped to the fire pit, swallowing hard as he sat on a log. He ran his hands through his golden hair, stared at the smoldering pit, sighing.

  “What is it?” Starlyn asked.

  “We are too late. Arria has gone to Sudegam. She knew we would be away from the city searching for her. It is very likely she has already reached your mother.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Arria stood on a hilltop, staring at the southern horizon at twilight. The sky had a beautiful lavender haze with scattered clouds. A crescent moon balanced itself in the south. Snow covered the ground from when it fell earlier in the day. The weather had chilled, making the snow stiff. Arria left no footprints on the hard snow, but behind her, a path had been torn by the draeyks.

  There were almost two-thousand draeyks with her, more than enough to pillage the kheshlarn capital. She awaited the opportune moment to strike. The kheshlarn candles went out one by one throughout the streets of Sudegam. They weren’t to go to sleep yet, but it would be a time of relaxing, and an excellent time to mount an attack.

  Arria had watched the city for days, observing her sister’s departure. Starlyn took a large army with her, which could have deterred Arria. With it, Starlyn may have prevented the raid on Sudegam. Arria had been careful not to let any draeyks march from the northern roads. Instead, they waited on the western side for everything to clear. The fresh snow which fell the day previous helped hide any tracks the reptiles left.

  Draeyks did not like the cold. They would normally hibernate because of their cold-blooded nature. Arria knew they would not be at full strength, but it hadn’t been their skill she needed. Only their numbers were important. She needed a distraction. Arria knew it wouldn’t take much for the kheshlars to avert their eyes.

  Arria dashed forward, using her stealth to slip through the southern gate. She carefully approached the tall tower along its side before climbing. A lone male kheshlar with pale blond hair stood watch over the gate. He became preoccupied watching the city and failed to notice her approach. She unsheathed her dagger and touched his warm skin as she slid her left hand over his mouth. Kheshlars had excellent hearing and stealth, though none could hear her approach. Arria always excelled at stealth, but her ability only amplified with the change. He tried to fight her off, but she had been stronger. She pulled him into her, pressing her dagger hard against his neck. The sharp weapon sliced through his neck with ease, causing him to fall limp in her arms.

  His blood tasted tangy as she licked the dagger, almost like a
n orange which had gone slightly bad. A pleasant taste regardless, for her first high kheshlar kill. She turned the large gate wheel, opening the gate completely. Arria watched with pressed lips as hundreds of draeyks marched in. A smile lifted her lips before she rang the bell of Sudegam then dashed away.

  Her mother’s cabin lay just outside the city gates, but she assumed it would be protected. She hoped the sound of the bell would draw away any of its guards. When she arrived at the cabin, she found no one in sight. She wondered why Starlyn hadn’t posted guards, but when she thought about it, she understood. Who could Starlyn trust? Most of the kheshlars didn’t want much to do with their mother because she had been ill. They considered her to be a weak member of their race.

  Their attitude is what irritated Arria the most. It was the final part that drove her over the edge to study the art of black magic. How dare the other kheshlars claim her mother to be an abomination of the race because of her illness. Since it wasn’t poison or arrow, they assumed her bloodline had been weak, causing her to be sick. They looked at Starlyn and Arria differently. They glowered down at them, because if their mother grew weak, it also meant they were, also. Arria would prove them all wrong. She would be the most powerful woman in Calthoria. They would cower, bowing in her presence. She would make them rue the day they ever considered her weak and insignificant.

  Since the transformation, magic flowed through her. She didn’t know how to harness the magic yet, but she could sense its power. It made her strong. This new strength easily outmatched any kheshlar, as she proved only moments before when she killed the guard in the watch tower. She remembered him, and the times they shared. He was by no means close to her, but all kheshlars knew each other well. It was a curse and a blessing to know everyone from eternal life. She remembered his face as well as his touch from the nights they shared a bed after several kheshlarn festivals. Even though she had shared those experiences with him, she didn’t become saddened by his passing. She had shared those experiences with many kheshlars, unlike her sister.

  Cautious, Arria opened the door of her mother’s cabin. The thick air about her stayed quiet as she stepped inside. In silence, she tiptoed down the hall. Arria paused for a moment with her hand breaths from the door of her mother’s room. It had been far too long since she’d seen her mother’s face. She felt afraid to see how weak her mother had become. How much sicker would she be?

  After a long, unnecessary breath, she opened the door. Her mother lay on the bed, paler than she’d ever seen her before. Perspiration covered her face. Her breathing became heavy. Her brown hair showed matted and tangled. She opened her eyes, staring at Arria for a long moment before her lips pressed in a small smile.

  “My daughter … Arria.” Her mother gulped. “I knew you would return.”

  A shape stirred in a rocking chair in the corner. Suddenly, a woman sprung upon Arria with dual short swords drawn. Arria recognized the daggers, they resembled two split blades on each side of a nearly hollow center, making each side exceedingly sharp and well balanced, while keeping the weapons light. Arria remembered a wood kheshlar she’d kill having the exact same swords.

  Arria studied the figure with shoulder length jet black hair. Her skin appeared unlike any other kheshlar, a creamy brown chocolate, and her eyes were almond. She was beyond beautiful as well as more unique than any other kheshlar. Lush pink lips held on a tight line as she regarded Arria.

  “Aliqua, how nice it is to see you again.” Arria grinned.

  “Why are you here?” Aliqua asked.

  “I have come for mother.”

  “You may not take her.”

  “I never asked for permission.” Arria growled.

  Arria pulled her flamberge from its scabbard, swinging it at Aliqua’s left. The chocolate kheshlar easily blocked the strike with ease. She responded with a series of swift stabs from each of her swords in a complex pattern which nearly caught Arria off guard. The two sparred for a long while with neither gaining an advantage. Candles and scrolls crashed onto the ground everywhere as they dodged each other’s strikes.

  Aliqua gained the upper hand for a moment by rolling her sword around Arria’s flamberge after contact, to strike Arria’s wrist. Arria’s wrist throbbed in pain as blood trickled down her hand. The act only enraged Arria into a chaotic pattern of attacks to overpower the kheshlar.

  Sparks flew from their weapons with the fury of their blows. Fire covered the ground from spilled candles. Aliqua lay upon the ground. She had cuts down each arm bleeding feverishly, while her swords lay out of reach. The tip of Arria’s flamberge pressed hard against Aliqua’s neck.

  “Do you wish to die?” Arria asked.

  “I would rather die than spend an eternity witnessing what you do to your mother.”

  Arria pressed her flamberge harder, drawing blood which drizzled down Aliqua’s neck. “Thank you for taking care of mother.”

  Before Arria had a chance to remove the chocolate kheshlar’s head from her shoulders, a massive blow hit her from behind. She rolled on the ground, without weapon, until she could spin around. She faced three kheshlars with swords drawn. They wore the gold plate mail of the king’s guards. She recognized two of them who she once knew intimately.

  She got to her feet, unsheathing her dagger. The three kheshlars charged. After blocking strikes from the first two, Arria dove out of the way of the third, turning around to strike one through a gap in his armor, penetrating his back with her dagger. The dagger pierced his heart and he collapsed. She sheathed her dagger, diving to pick up her flamberge.

  With her weapon comfortably in her hands, she fought with the two remaining kheshlars with all of her skill and strength. They were fierce combatants. She expected no less from the king’s personal guard. She did not know how they found her, but she hoped to defeat them swiftly so she could grab her mother and leave.

  Her armor clanged as her opponents found an opening in her defense. She held strong, continuing to fight, but bruises formed where her armor dented in. From the corner of her eye, she saw the king approaching, his golden sword arrogantly sheathed on his side.

  Arria tried to focus her energy on the two guards in front of her, but she found it hard to concentrate. Her vision blurred, and for the first time, she feared death. She wondered if she would no longer experience the pleasures of immortality and lust, but instead be consumed by a world of darkness. Arria wasn’t sure if she was terrified of death, after all she had already experienced it once.

  Arria welcomed the attacks, deflecting blow after blow as sparks rained around her. They would not call her weak after this night, not ever again. They were weak, assuming she would be frail. Her power surged, it filled her, almost overwhelmed her. No longer did it feel far away. She channeled the energy into her grasp, clinging to it tight. She dared not hold back as she released the energy from her mind and out of her body.

  A cloud of tarnished violet sizzled from Arria’s fingertips. She pointed the magic at one of the kheshlars. The man dropped his sword, holding his head as his body pulsated. Arria used the distraction to disarm the other kheshlar, stabbing him through the chest. She grinned before prancing to the helpless kheshlar, slicing off his head. Her grin broadened as she watched his head bounce across ground.

  The power slipped from her grasp, it shattered into swirls of color that clouded her mind. The king, Elsargast, stepped forward, clutching the hilt of his drawn sword. He studied her for a moment.

  “Arria …” he whispered. “You were foolish to return. There is nothing you can do to help your mother. Anything you try will only make it worse.”

  “What do you know about it? Even the great king who you are supposed to be cannot do anything to save my mother, what makes you think with my new powers that I cannot?” Arria asked.

  “Taking her away in her condition is as sure as murder.”

  “How did you know I was here?” she asked.

  “I was as sure as stone when the city fell into chaos. I know
only you would be so bold,” he said.

  “And you thought to come here? I begged you for months to come visit Mother. You refused to come near a sick kheshlar. Yet, here you are but the only reason you came is to prevent me from taking her from your land.”

  “You have strayed from the path Arria, the black magic has tormented your mind into believing you have absolute power. This is why we do not study magic, this is why the books on black magic are locked away. There is too much risk involved with power not well known. Even those books only skim onto a small portion of the full extent of the power of black magic.”

  “With something about which is known little, why are you so confident nothing within its power can save mother from this illness?”

  “Nothing is sure, young one. Yet, it is guaranteed if you continue down this path, you will be lost forever. You will become consumed in a world inside of your own mind. In your new world will be torment and suffering. The dark magic will feed off of it. The power you feel, you have—your extra strength—it will seem insignificant when you experience the torment and suffering it will bring you.”

  “If it brings me mother, the trade-off will be more than worth it.”

  “I will not allow you to leave with her,” Elsargast said.

  “Stop me.”

  He unsheathed his golden broadsword, taking two steps toward her. Arria never saw the king fight. She flinched when she saw him balance a sword. He never showed his skill, but Arria knew the stories. His skill with a blade had been unmatched in Sudegam.