Return to Kiluemar

by Kimberly Marraffino

  Return to Kiluemar

  Magic of the Realm ~ Book 1

  Copyright © 2021 by Kimberly Marraffino

  All rights reserved

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission by the publisher, except for brief quotations embodied in articles or reviews

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, locations, etc. are entirely coincidental or used only for fictional purposes

  Cover by Driven Digital Services (www.drivends.com)

  Editor/Proofreader: Dennis Doty

  Editor: Kerri Boehm Editing Services

  Formatting by: Enchanted Ink Publishing

  FIRST EDITION February 2021

  Published in Montana, USA

  ISBN: 978-1-7360404-1-6 (eBook)

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2020924966

  author_kimberlymarraffino@yahoo.com

  Follow @author_kimberlym

  To Isabelle,

  Without your encouragement, I never would have written this book

  Acknowledgments

  First, I want to thank my daughter, Isabelle, for encouraging me to follow my dream of being an author. This story changed a lot over the past twenty years, but with your help and motivation I finally pushed aside my fears and uncertainties and made this dream a reality. Without you, this book never would have happened. Thank you for your support, your shared passion for this story, and for being the voice of reason when negativity made me doubt myself.

  Next, I want to thank my mom for always being there for me. Thank you so much for everything, and for sharing your love of writing with me. Now, go follow your dream and write your book.

  I would also like to acknowledge my beta readers, Nathan and Isaac Marraffino. Thank you for your suggestions, edits, and constructive criticism, which were extremely helpful and much appreciated—even if it did not seem like it at first.

  In addition, I want to add a small thank you to my youngest, Ian, for giving me the time to write this book, and not constantly bugging me for a snack or asking me silly questions . . . most of the time.

  Last, but definitely not least, a huge thank you to Cordell Qualls. I cannot thank you enough for what you did for me and this book. Your generosity will forever be remembered.

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Pronunciation Guide

  Chapter 1

  Unexplainable

  Rhiannon opened her eyes to discover she was no longer in the comfort of her bedroom—where she had been only moments ago—but instead she was outside, staring up at the sky as blades of wet grass tickled her bare arms.

  She shifted along the dew-covered ground and pushed herself up, groaning as her body ached. Her muscles were heavy and weak, and the sheer mass of her body was hard to fight alongside the dull pain pinching at her nerves. Sitting up, she situated herself along the grass. Her shirt stuck to her clammy back and she shivered, sending chills shooting up her spine and a new pain surging along one side of her body. Instinctively, she curled her legs inward, pressing them against her chest.

  “Oh my—” She clenched her teeth and inhaled. “Ow! Ow!”

  Rocking back and forth, she panted through the unexpected and intense shockwave pulsating along her arm. Another throb surfaced and she clutched her arm, crying out and instantly hating her body’s foolish reaction. She released her hold and continued to gasp as a warm sensation trailed along her arm, trickling down in multiple streams—a crimson fluid seeping through her clothes. Her stomach twisted and her hand trembled as she peeled back the sleeve of her shirt, revealing a laceration from the crease of her elbow and ending at her shoulder. Blood gushed from the exposed wound and her pain briefly subsided as she choked back the urge to throw up. Trying to calm her unsettled stomach, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

  Calm down, Rhiannon. This is only a dream. It’s not real.

  Blood continued to ooze as the pain grew, radiating up and down her arm.

  “Nope, that’s blood. That’s real blood—that’s my blood . . . and a lot of it.” She clasped her hands into fists. “Holy crap! And it frickin’ hurts!”

  With her queasiness under control, Rhiannon searched for something to help stop the bleeding, but a trail of blood next to her drew her attention. The disjointed line of red fluid glistened in the sunlight and led further into the clearing. She pushed herself onto her feet and followed the trail up a gentle incline along the grassy field. Patches of rocky terrain and clusters of colorful wildflowers bloomed sporadically throughout the large meadow with towering trees circling all around.

  Stopping at a group of jagged rocks covered in dark red splatters, she concluded, “I must’ve hurt myself here”—she turned, facing back where she came from—“and ended up down there somehow.”

  Rhiannon tried to swallow, but the lump in her throat made it difficult to finish the task. She searched the area, tossing her head around as a new ache formed in her head from the hurried movement. She closed her eyes, raising a hand and rubbing her fingers along her forehead. A dry substance was caked on her skin, and she frowned as she lowered her hand. It was blood and dirt. Searching for the injury, she brushed her fingers across a raised area of skin along her hairline. The gash was tender, but it was no longer bleeding.

  Rhiannon massaged the back of her neck, continuing to inspect the area. Where am I?

  Refusing to wait around for help, or an explanation—both of which were highly unlikely in the middle of nowhere—she spotted a narrow opening in the trees in the direction she originally came from and headed back down the hill. Her legs were heavy as she shuffled along, tripping and making the journey downhill hurried and chaotic. Reaching the bottom, she stumbled and landed face down on the ground. She held still and panted through the pain piercing her body.

  Forcing herself back onto her feet, she continued through the trees, pushing her way past overgrown shrubs and through thick underbrush. The forest was dense and smelled of wet grass and mud. Stopping to catch her breath along the way, her weak body leaned against various trees covered in bright green moss along their brown undisturbed trunks. The wooded area was flawless. Everything was perfectly placed and untouched, almost abandoned. There were no animals, not even a single bug in sight. The forest was quiet, too quiet in fact. Even the wind seemed muted within the pristine area. She ignored the hushed uneasiness of this part and continued forward.

  The pain faded with each persistent step while blood continued to flow down her numb arm. Uprooted trees and abundant foliage scattered along the waning trail, causing her to stumble as she dragged her mud-covered shoes. Reaching the edge of the forest, she placed a hand on a toppled tree, plopped down, and stared out at the area in front of her.

  A wide-open meadow stretched out for miles, filled with pink and yellow wildflowers dancing with the deep green grass. A cool, perfumed breeze flowed through the trees above her and whispered a gentle, wave-like hum. She lowered her eyes, welcoming the serenity of the moment.

  A wave of fatigue swept over her, though she tried to fight against it. Rhiannon could not fall asleep now—she was wounded, a
lone, and in an unfamiliar place. Despite her concern, her limbs waged war against every movement, weighted down as if they were encased in concrete. Prying her eyes open was a losing battle, and she surrendered. She crashed to the ground, whimpering and resting her cheek against the damp soil. A piercing pain filled her arm, causing an intense burning sensation along every inch of her body.

  Finding a sliver of strength, Rhiannon pushed her limp body up as her arms shook under her weight. She leaned against a large tree root, cradling her arm as she reexamined the injury. Her sleeve acted as a temporary bandage, sticking firmly to the laceration. Most of the blood along her arm dried, but more continued to seep from beneath the shirt’s thin material. The dirty, blood-stained cotton compress would not last, so she grabbed hold of the bottom section of her shirt and started tugging. She grunted and threw up her arms at her failed attempt to rip off a piece. Rubbing her heels back and forth against the ground, she cried in frustration.

  Rhiannon froze, catching sight of the dirty shoes on her feet. She raised an eyebrow and wiped away her tears. The shoes were not hers.

  An idea popped into her head. Ignoring the mystery of the sneakers, she slid them off and removed her socks. She winced, pulling up her sleeve. A combination of clotted blood and dead skin stuck to the shirt, causing the wound to bleed even more as she peeled back the sleeve. She turned her head and wrinkled her nose, trying to overlook the gruesome appearance and odor. Blindly, she placed the socks against the wound and removed a hair tie from her messy ponytail. She slid the hair tie up her arm and placed it over the socks. The added pressure made her hiss through her teeth. The poorly made bandage would not hold once she resumed moving, so she picked up the shoes and proceeded to remove their laces. She tied the two shoelaces together and wrapped them around her arm, crying out as she knotted them. Sliding her bare feet into the shoes, she pushed herself off the ground and waited for the sudden onset of spinning to stop.

  Making her way further into the meadow, Rhiannon strode away from the shadows of the forest. The sun moved along the western sky and warmed her cold, pale skin. The brightness mixed with her blurry vision made it difficult for her to see, but her other senses were heightened.

  A rhythmic pounding interrupted the calm whisper of the wind and she glanced around. There was nothing, but the sound grew louder—resonating across the tall grass. She focused harder on the source of the sound and spotted it exiting another tree line in front of her.

  She paused, staring at a town illuminated with a soft, white glow as it appeared out of nowhere. "I definitely must be dreaming . . .” She shifted her head in the direction of distant trotting. “. . . or hallucinating.”

  A small herd of horses, with their wings pressed firmly against their sides, galloped along the new set of trees in front of her. The majestic animals glided gracefully along the outskirts of the town, passed a stone archway, and disappeared into another grouping of trees on the opposite side of the town. The entrance to the large village contained a tall, rounded archway that sat in the center of a fence made of trees, intertwined with roots and vines. The town was quiet and seemingly deserted—not a single person around.

  Rhiannon could not go on for much longer. Her sight was hazy and she fought against the urge to fall. Her pulse slowed and her breathing grew shallow. Dizziness took over, the world spinning around her. She wanted to throw up but forced herself to swallow the acid burning the back of her throat. Inhaling through her nose and out through her mouth, she stood up straight, but her shoulders hunched back over. Rhiannon needed help, so she lifted her heavy legs and sauntered in the direction of the town.

  Dragging her feet, she moved unevenly through the tall grass and various patches of clovers, tearing a path through the meadow as she slid along the lush field. Blood seeped from the bandage and trickled down her arm again as a metallic odor filled the air.

  The journey to the town was never-ending, or so it seemed. Her feet were moving, but the scenery in front of her stretched out further and further. Every step grew heavier and more difficult. Her body was cold, chills shocking her nerves and causing her body to tremble. Both eyes drooped under their immense weight and the tightness in her chest made breathing difficult. The muscles in her limbs were like rocks and she could no longer control most of her body. Rhiannon was fading––her body no longer able to fight against the blood loss.

  Her eyes rolled back, and she crashed to her knees.

  A voice echoed in her head. ‘Rhiannon.’

  She swayed, leaning farther with each swing. Someone . . . please help me. Her head fell and her pulse pounded in her ears.

  A distant voice called out her name, and she jerked her head up. She strained to listen, peering through a thick haze. A small, shadowy figure raced from underneath the town’s stone archway. Rustling sounds echoed with the pounding in her head, and Rhiannon could see the silhouette of a person approaching.

  She attempted to smile, but only the corners of her mouth lifted. Her heartbeat picked up, her stomach fluttered, and warmth filled her body. She tried to raise her arm, but nothing happened. Her body could no longer move. She opened her mouth, but again, nothing happened—only quiet moans. Unable to control her eyes as they started to close, she took one final look at the person speeding more into sight.

  “Rhiannon!” a muffled and distorted voice echoed.

  Her eyes rolled back, and her eyelids lowered as her body became solid like a rock. Her head dropped, and the bottom of her chin crashed into her chest. Rhiannon leaned sideways and fell, vanishing before she hit the ground.

  A burst of light illuminated around her in unison with a gust of wind. Her stomach tightened, and her head tingled as she started falling. She dropped fast, causing a new and energizing sensation coursing through her body—a quick and electrifying surge accompanied by both fear and excitement. She was shocked back to life. Rhiannon floated through the air before crashing hard against a new surface.

  ***

  She groaned and opened her eyes, half smiling and sighing in relief. Rhiannon was alive—at least, she thought she was. Reaching over and placing her hand against her wounded arm, she pressed down.

  “Ow! Son of a . . .” she yelled, tossing her arm down and slapping the ground with her palm.

  The pain dwindled—still present, but manageable. She sat up, thankful to be alive, but even more so, she was happy to feel normal again. The dizziness faded and her vision cleared. The pounding in her head was gone, and she was able to control her body again. A dull pain continued to throb along her arm, but she was able to ignore it.

  Glancing down, Rhiannon was no longer wearing the clothes she had on earlier. “What the hell?” She traced her eyes along her body and spotted her bare feet. “Seriously! Where the heck did my shoes go?”

  The tedious ache lingered, and Rhiannon diverted her attention over to her arm. She pulled back the much cleaner bloody sleeve and revealed the makeshift sock and shoelace bandage still covering the injury. Removing the blood-soaked items, she examined the wound. The once gruesome laceration was now a moderate gash. She tossed the gross socks, shoelaces, and hair tie on the ground and pulled up the bottom half of her dusty shirt, wiping the remaining blood along her arm. The wound was still bleeding, but nowhere near as bad as it was a few minutes ago. She tore off the bottom part of her ripped shirt and tied it around the deeper section of the cut.

  She stood up and evaluated the new area. Her eyebrows raised and her lips puckered to one side. Rhiannon was nowhere near the place she was moments ago. Biting the inside of her cheek, she turned in a circle, taking in everything around her.

  Dry, open plains stretched out in all directions. The vast and flat area, blanketed with a mix of dirt and pebble stones, covered miles of untouched land. To the west was an enormous dark mountain range, which hid most of the colorful sky. At the base of the mountain was the outline of a castle-like structure with various towers reaching high above the ground, nestled w
ithin a forest of bare and blackened trees. Being about four or five miles away, the castle was too far to walk—especially without any shoes—so she turned around. A thick, gray mist hovered a few miles away to the north and south. Not much could be seen beyond the ominous fog, except for the ocean directly to the east, which was closer and far less intimidating than the other three directions. Where the hell am I?

  Rhiannon moved to the east, hoping the water rested along a sandy beach, so she could get some relief from the uncomfortable, stony ground.

  “Ouch!” she cried, hobbling over a sharp rock.

  Her feet were tender as the cracked terrain and various stones penetrated her bare soles, but she disregarded the pain and kept a steady pace.

  The ocean line thickened with every few hundred steps. Rhiannon’s eyes widened and the corners of her mouth rose. Almost there. The water sparkled under the setting sun and hope swelled inside of her. With each step, she took in the hidden beauty around her. The sun descended beyond the mountain range behind her, and the rays painted beautiful shades of magenta, violet, and scarlet across the sky. The sunset was breathtaking and magical—almost unreal. Shadows fell across the water and slinked closer to land.

  Rhiannon’s face fell and she slowed down, witnessing the land disappearing off the edge of a cliff. A thick blanket of gray fog rolled in closer from the north and south as darkness swallowed the abrupt drop off. She darted her eyes around as she spun in a circle. The area was deserted, but something focused on her every move. A cold gust slammed into her, and she jumped. Chills raced up her back and she shuddered. Her stomach turned and her heart raced as she jerked her head in every direction. Nothing. Disregarding the pain in her feet, she hurried closer to the cliffs.

  The colors painted across the sky disappeared and the wind howled. Her heavy breathing and pounding heart resonated in her ears. Her feet hammered against the ground and the rocks clinked together. Rhiannon rushed forward, the urge to throw up churning in her stomach again. Stepping on a sharp rock, she tripped and stumbled to the ground. Her instincts drove her to keep moving, and she continued, limping through the pain.