Chapter 1
Shadows danced on the forest floor, chasing each other and the light in an almost frantic frenzy. Leaves rustled although no wind blew on this day, sending their message to any that would listen to their tales. The trees themselves swayed gently, dancing to a silent tune they alone could hear and understand.
In the deepest recesses of the shadows beneath a tree sat a silent figure, dressed entirely in black. He sat among the trees, listening to their song, wondering if he would ever be at peace as they. His eyes were closed as he rested against the wide trunk of an ancient redwood. It was here in these woods that he felt safe.
No one understood him as the silent, mysterious forest. It had been here that he came to seek his solitude and way of life. Only days ago, he had faced the charges of murder, a murder that he did not commit, and barely came away with his life. He was to be stripped of his gift, the only comfort that he had in his dreary life.
A branch cracked under the hooves of the deer that so many had sought to claim as their trophy. The deer approached the stream warily, unsure if he was alone in the forest glade where all gathered to drink. He slowly drank the water, all the while searching for the signs of predators.
The young man drew an arrow from his pack, placing it against the string of the longbow. He had fashioned both himself, using the Legends Old’s descriptions to guide him. None other could even draw the string, let alone hold the bow. The arrow’s bronze tip glittered in the sun.
The deer raised his head, immediately sensing danger was closer to him here than he had originally thought. His eyes searched the forest floor, seeking out any signs of the danger that he now felt hovering around him. Never once did his eyes look above him in the boughs of the trees, just beneath the mighty canopy.
“Your pelt is mine, Grandfather,” the young man whispered, drawing his arrow back, the feathers brushing softly against his cheek. His eyes narrowed as he took aim.
The deer suddenly jerked his head up, in time to see the bronze tip speeding its way home. He let out a blood-curdling scream as the arrow bit deep, penetrating flesh and bone alike. His body reeling from the shock, he turned and ran into the forest.
Telltale drops of blood glistened on the forest floor and leaves. The man could tell that he had severely wounded the deer, something no one else had done before. His pulse quickened as he followed the trail to where the deer would lie down and die.
A vine found its way around his left foot, sending him crashing to the ground. The man cursed, severing the vine with a swift blow from the edge of his knife. Birds screamed as they watched the procession below, a procession they had no intentions of joining, even to save a friend.
Rising to his feet once more, the man continued to follow the trail of blood until he reached the edge of the forest. Before him, spreading as far as the eyes could see, was a vast valley rich with canyons and rivers. Caves dotted the canyon walls, their black openings an eerie, but awesome sight. The countryside was breathtaking and deadly; rushing rivers flowed through the canyon while caves dotted the canyon walls, their black openings an eerie but awesome sight.
Scanning the area for his prey, the man quickly entered the valley, avoiding the rockslide that had brought the deer to the valley floor. Putting away his longbow, the man drew his knife, preparing to skin the deer and take his pelt. He was determined that this was his prize, his honor.
The deer lay before the mouth of one cave just a few feet from the valley floor. His eyes were glassy as death slowly claimed him, draining away his life and spirit.
“You have succeeded where others haven’t, my young friend,” the deer said silently to the man.
“You have put up a great fight, Grandfather. But now it is time for you to join your clan, your family in the other worlds. There you will live longer than you ever could have here.”
“Remember me and my kind as you grow and your people take over the forest. My kind will be driven from their homes and destroyed.”
“Not as long as I live here, Grandfather,” the young man said softly to the deer, stroking his head to comfort the deer as it died. “Your death will not have been in vain. Your sacrifice will save those left of your family in this world.”
There was no reply to his words. The deer’s life had gone as quickly as it had come. The young man bowed his head, praying the deer’s soul to find its way to the others of its kind and become happy once more.
“Very touching, young one,” came a harsh voice from the cave. “But you will not claim your prize just yet. I have work for you to do. Come here.”
The young man rose against his will, moving toward the cave’s opening.
“You have come a long way from the frightened youth that tried to best my warriors on his own.” The voice was cold, as if there was no life, no spirit behind it. “I now have a use for you.”
“I will do nothing that you ask of me,” the man hissed in response. His teeth bared as he fought against the unseen restraints.
“You will do exactly as I say. Otherwise, the consequences will be yours to bear by yourself.”
The man shivered as a cold hand was laid upon his cheek, the fingers drawing to a close. He hated the man who stood before him, yet he was unable to see his face for the shadows that played about.
“That is better,” the voice said softly. “You are mine, body and soul, young one. You bear my mark upon your hand, cutting directly through your magi mark. If I wish it to be so, you will lose your magic forever!”
“You can’t do that, Immortal,” the man replied softly, gently so as not to upset the man before him. “Only the greatest magi can remove one’s magic from one’s soul.”
“Ah, that is true, my friend,” the Immortal answered, opening his fingers upon the man’s cheek again. “But I can prevent you from using your magic, just as I can scratch.” The Immortal quickly drew his fingers closed, digging his nails into the man’s cheek, drawing forth bright red droplets of blood. “The rich red of your blood will slowly darken to black if you do not do as I say.”
“What is it that you wish me to do?”
“I want your king’s granddaughter. I want her brought to me in my palace inside the walls of Drekmore.”
“I cannot give to you what I do not have, Immortal,” the man said softly. “The Elf King’s rule does not extend into these woods. Why would his granddaughter come here?”
“She is on a quest to free the lost Winged Ones from their prison of glass and crystal that my father erected around their home centuries ago. She will come to these woods for the help of your brother.”
“My brother does not live in these woods, Immortal.”
“No, but he is visiting with your mother at Apex Estates this week before entering the final phase of his training.”
The man’s eyes narrowed, his thoughts turning black. “I freed my family from your evil touch years ago when you marked me, Immortal. Will you go against your word and harm them now?”
“My word is not valid unless I give my blood, even then, well…” the Immortal shrugged as his words died off. “Bring me the king’s granddaughter, or your family perishes in their ancestral home.”
“Very well,” the man reluctantly agreed. His eyes closed as he felt the evil of the Immortal vanish, leaving him alone with his thoughts once again.
“Never will I give you what you want, Immortal. It is to my advantage that I keep what I can over you.” The man shook his head, shaking off the final effects of the Immortal’s touch. He made his way outside the cave to find his prey.
“Now, Grandfather, I will say goodbye to you the proper way.” The young man bowed his head in prayer as he blessed the deer’s carcass. He would not dishonor the deer and take his hide without first performing the proper ritual.
He could hear the trees from far away warning him that danger was approaching on horseback. His hands were bloody as he rose from his catch to inspect the trail of smoke that entered the crystalline blue sky, forming a clear sign to his eyes, if not to others, that the Immortal was searching the Wild Woods for the Elf King’s granddaughter.
“She is nothing more than a name to me,” he said softly, returning to his work. “Nothing the Immortal asks will cause me to turn against the man that rules my family with an iron-clad fist.”
The man reacted with lightning speed as he heard the dried grass behind him crack as heavy feet stepped upon it. He pulled his knife on the man that approached. This man wore the same color clothing as he. If not for the different cut in the clothes, the man would have been his exact equal, except for the golden hair.
“You should never sneak up on me, brother,” the man responded angrily, returning to his work. “I could have had your life.”
“I seriously doubt that, my brother,” the golden-hair man replied. “I have come to ask a favor of you, though I know it is not your way to become involved with the aristocracy’s problems.”
“What do you wish of me?” the man asked. “Don’t be coy with me either.”
“That’s the one thing I will not do, brother. I remember the way you reacted when the last man lied to you.” The golden-hair man sighed heavily, crossing his arms before his chest. “You finally caught the stag everyone’s been after, I see.”
“You are tempting fate, brother,” the man responded, rising to his feet. He faced his brother with a burning flame in his eyes. “What is it that you want from me, Arec? It has been too long for you to try to weasel it out of me.”
“I want you to come join me as I escort the princess to the Glass Dome, last known residence of the Ancient Winged Ones. She could use your help, Zven.”
The man narrowed his eyes. Here was his opportunity to do as the Immortal asked, turn in the princess and keep his family free of Immortal influence until the next favor. “I will have to think about it. Hers is a cause I cannot agree with.”
“She is to free the Winged Ones that have not flown over this world in centuries! How can you say that you do not agree with her cause?” Arec demanded, resisting the urge to grab his brother’s shoulders. “Perhaps you do not understand this world!”
“I understand plenty about this world! I know more than you will ever learn in your entire life! Do not tell me what I can agree with!” Zven hissed in response to his brother’s accusations. His eyes narrowed even more as his grip upon the hilt of his knife tightened. “I merely do not agree with her method of getting things done. She wants a big display which could very well cost her her life!”
“Then come with me and help us to convince her of this! She will listen to no one about her rash decisions causing major problems with the already strained relationships between Wild Wood and Corenthia. Perhaps you will be the one to convince her of this!”
“Why do you think she would listen to me if she does not listen to you or to her grandfather?” Zven asked, walking to the nearest stream to clean his hands and his knife of the deer’s blood.
“You have greater power than she, brother. If she does not listen to reason, then she will listen to your gift. She is of the Church and abides by the Church laws.”
“You mean she is of the Arcane as I. That is why you want me to join you. So that you have an upper hand when dealing with her.”
Arec sighed again, drawing deep breaths as he thought of his response. He may be quick with the broadsword and axe, but he was not quick with words. “If that is the way you see it, so be it. I will not argue with you on this. The princess can be more hard-headed than you.”
“I will not use my magic against her, brother. It is not my way. Unless she causes me great anger or gets in my way, my magic will not emerge.”
“She will know that you are of her craft, brother. She is shrewd and can be hard to deal with at times. That is why I ask you to help me in this matter. Her spirit has been shaped by nearly as many hardships as yours.”
Zven tensed as he remembered his time with the Elf Queen of Liquia. It had taken him years before he could overcome the addiction to the potent desert berry used to make a narcotic widely used for heightening pleasure. “If it means that I can face those that did - ”
“Trust me, brother, you can face whomever you wish.” Arec pulled a scroll from his pack, handing it to his brother. “Keep this in your possession at all times. It may just save your life.”
“What is it?” Zven demanded before he would accept the scroll.
“Just take it and don’t ask questions where I got it.”
Zven could feel the magic encasing the scroll as he closed his hand around the ancient parchment. He felt it infuse into his own magic, making it stronger. His eyes never showed any signs of the changes that were overcoming him.
Arec pulled a glove from his pack as well, handing it to his brother. “Your father wanted you to have this if you decided to join us. ‘It will keep you safe from the Immortal,’ he said. I don’t know what it means, but I assume that you do.”
Zven swallowed as he took the glove from his brother’s hand. He could feel the ancient magic surrounding the glove as he examined it. “I know what it is for, Arec. My father said that he would do what he could to aid me if I ever decided to go on my own way.”
Arec turned to leave as Zven slid the glove over his scar from the Immortal’s knife blade. He waited for his brother to decide for a few minutes before he departed. “If you do decide to join us, just find me as you always do!” he said, taking off at a run.
Zven put his hands together as he closed his eyes. The pyramid of fingers before his mouth gave him no comfort as he silently thanked his father for the gift that he had received. His eyes were closed as he thought about what to do.
As if in a dream, he could see the golden hair of the princess flying in the wind as she fought against the Immortal’s men, using every last bit of her magic to aid her. He could feel the fury in her soul as she brought her hands up to grab the man’s sword, struggling with him to take the sword from his hands. He pulled away as the man screamed in pain, dropping the sword to the ground.
Zven sank to his knees, bowing his head as he closed his eyes once more, taking deep breaths to calm himself. “So much anger flows in her. So much until she cannot control her own anger.”
“Now you know what you were like until I brought your anger under control,” a soft but deep voice said.
Zven looked up to see his father appear before him. “What should I do? The Immortal has informed me that if I do not deliver the princess to him that he will harm either my mother or my brother. I fear for my mother.”
“As well you should, young one. I cannot tell you what it is that you must do. That is something that only you can decide. The fate of your future lies in your hands. It is not going to be an easy path if you choose to help the princess and her companions in the quest that she has embarked upon. If you choose to give her to the Immortal, your path will be forever dominated by the evil that still pervades your bloodstream because of the narcotic. You will have to be careful about what you accept to drink from people, my son. The addiction to the drug is still strong in your veins. It will never go away.”
“That is why I worry, Father.” Zven lowered his head as he turned his attention away from his father. “I feel the desire to join the princess, but what if I can’t do as I should? My own anger still controls me so that I do what the Immortal wishes of me. How can I prevent that from taking over?”
Zven’s father sighed heavily. “That is the reason why I sent you the glove that Arec gave to you. It is made out of the hide of a Winged One. The glove is ancient, but the magic is powerful. It will protect you from the Immortal’s control for as long as you wear it. Eventually, the glove will become a part of your hand and can never be removed. That is the purpose of its existence.”
“As long as I wear this glove, the Immortal will have no control over me?”
“He will have no control over the blood that he put into yours. The magic in that blood will be nullified by the magic in the glove, thus preventing his control. Do not be fooled that he will not be able to control you. There are always other ways to get a person to do what you wish. All he has to do is get a loved one of yours in his possession.”
“He’ll never be able to do that. Mother is always guarded by the Crimson Warriors. There’s no way that he can sneak past them. Too many of them have experience in the ways of the arcane not to notice him.”
“There is always another, my son. Your soul is bound to one that you have yet to meet. It is she that the Immortal will try to use against you. The bond between the two of you will be forged when your eyes meet for the first time. That bond cannot be shattered, even after thousands of years. Do not forget that your namesake was soul bonded to hers.”
“I doubt she even exists.” Zven turned as his father vanished. He could not remember the last time his father had visited him, just the gift that he had left him. Even now, he cherished that gift every time he opened his eyes.
“I will join your quest, princess. Then we shall see what will become of it.” He drew forth his arrows, searching for the best one, which he placed against the string of his bow. “May my aim be true as my path before me,” he said softly, releasing the arrow. He watched as it soared high into the sky before disappearing from view.
