Myths and Magic: An Epic Fantasy and Speculative Fiction Boxed Set

by K.N. Lee

  With a heave, the blue-eyed stranger surged to his feet, ripping the enchanted chains from the floor. They shivered and disappeared.

  Isabelle gasped, her heart thumping wildly against her ribcage. She stumbled on the hem of her skirt trying to scramble to her feet.

  In a few easy strides, the man reached her, his eyes blazing in triumph. He snaked his arm out, grabbing Isabelle’s hand, helping her to her feet. Isabelle flinched at the raw power she felt in his body as he pulled her to him, brushing his lips feather light against her fingers. Her skin prickled at his touch.

  The man cocked a silver eyebrow, smiling as if aware of the effect he had on her. “Thank you, Isabelle,” he breathed, rubbing a thumb over her knuckles before releasing her, slowly, as if reluctant to let her go.

  “Be careful,” he said. “Evil forces will conspire against you. You must be brave and unyielding. Continue your quest to become a Fabled Hunter.”

  He turned and sprinted from the room. The torch fluttered when he passed, casting eerie shadows on the wall.

  Isabelle left the room hurriedly, wondering where the Fabled Hunters had gone. She thought of the man she’d freed, and hoped he’d be true to his word about leaving. She’d never forgive herself if the Hunters were hurt because of her.

  Walking down a different hall, Isabelle’s steps slowed. She was being watched. She spun around, fitting an arrow to her bow. Nothing. She couldn’t see anything, but she could feel eyes on her.

  The unseen watchers. Isabelle’s blood ran cold as she remembered them. “I don’t think he was meant to be imprisoned here,” she said aloud. “The demon-man. It was a mistake. He’s saved me before. He’s supposed to be free.”

  A soft sighing sound echoing down the hall was her only answer. Isabelle resumed her walk toward the shadowhold exit, hoping the unseen watchers would continue to leave her alone long enough for her to get out. It didn’t make sense that they’d allow her or the man to escape.

  Unless he wasn’t really evil.

  It was a long walk back to the inn. It was cold, a chill wind blowing through the streets. She quickened her steps. She didn’t want to have to explain to Jack where she’d gone if he got back first.

  Crawling into bed a short while later, Isabelle pulled the covers up to her chin, thinking about the strange man she’d rescued. She ran a finger lightly over the knuckles he’d kissed, remembering the feel of his lips. She didn’t know him, but wished she did. There was something about him that spoke to her soul and caressed her senses.

  She thought of Jack and a flush of shame crept over her cheeks. He wouldn’t have understood her need to help the man. She mentally shrugged. She just wouldn’t tell him. She wondered what news he would’ve learned from the taverns if any, and if they’d be gallivanting off to a faraway land, or somewhere closer.

  Isabelle turned on her side, her eyelids growing heavy as sleep came.

  15

  Isabelle woke the following morning to a light knocking on the door. “Come in,” she mumbled, yawning. She swung her legs over the side of her bed, stretching her arms out in front of her.

  A maid stood in the doorway, holding a tray. Breakfast. She glided over to the small table, setting it down, leaving with a quick curtsey.

  Breakfast was a small bowl of fruit, some porridge and a few pieces of buttered toast. Isabelle bit into a slice of toast, thinking about the previous day’s events.

  Jack must have stayed up a good deal later than she did as she hadn’t heard from him at all. He hadn’t come by her room.

  She wondered where the silver haired man had gone. He’d seemed different from their first encounter. He seemed … angrier. Darker. On freeing him, though, his demeanor changed, and he seemed to revert back to the kind man he’d been by the river. Isabelle hoped he’d escaped from the city, and that he was all right.

  The door opened and Jack stumbled in. His eyes were shadowed from lack of sleep and his hair disheveled, but he grinned when he saw her. “Morning.”

  “Morning,” Isabelle replied, inspecting him. “You look exhausted.”

  “Oh. Yeah.” Jack shrugged. “The innkeeper had me play half the night. He gets more gold that way.” He reached over her shoulder and selected an apple from the fruit bowl. “I did pick up some rumors about the city though. The Province to the east of us is having issues with giants.”

  “Giants.” Isabelle eyed him doubtfully. “As in plural? Jack, we were almost killed by one.”

  “No, you were almost killed by one.” Jack sat on the floor by the foot of her bed, crossing his legs. “I happen to be an expert on giants. Trust me. It’ll be easy.”

  Isabelle raised an eyebrow and he grinned. “Well, not impossible, anyway,” he clarified.

  “So what kind of problems are they having?” Isabelle asked.

  Jack yawned, scrubbing a hand through his already messy hair. “From what I’ve heard, the usual problems that crop up with giants. People getting eaten, livestock stolen, and so on.”

  “That sounds dire.”

  “Yes.” Jack nodded. “But it also sounds relatively recent. If we hurry, we’ll get there before the king can send Fabled Hunters to take care of it.”

  Isabelle twisted a lock of her dark hair around her finger. He was right. On the one hand, it was risky business. Giants were aggressive man-eaters. They could very well end up being one’s dinner. But completing a quest and bringing the king proof of their bravery was required. They may not get another opportunity. “What are we supposed to do when we get there?”

  “I have no idea,” Jack admitted. “But I do have something that will give us an edge. My harp.”

  Isabelle thought of the golden instrument and its soft, throbbing music. “All music puts giants to sleep?”

  “I would hesitate to say all music,” Jack said, “but as a general rule, yes, if the musician knows what he’s doing. It’s probably one of the reasons giants don’t rule the earth, or more of it, anyway. Music is their weakness.” He chuckled. “That, and they aren’t particularly bright. You’d think they’d start sticking wool in their ears when they went man-hunting.”

  Isabelle nodded in agreement. “Did you hear how many giants there were?”

  Jack shook his head. “It could be several or it could be one. People do have a tendency to exaggerate their problems. We won’t know until we get there.” He stood. “We’ll need to hurry if we do decide to go. Other would-be Hunters may have the same idea. We need to help this Province before someone else does. This will be my quest, and after this one, we’ll find a quest for you. Will you do this with me?”

  Isabelle nodded. “Yes.”

  Jack smiled at her, his green eyes gleaming with excitement. “I knew you’d agree. We’re going to make a great team.”

  Isabelle’s heart fluttered at his words. He was right.

  16

  “I’m bored. Let’s play ‘truth.’” Jack ran a hand through his hair as they walked, eyeing Isabelle out of the corner of his eye.

  “Truth?” Isabelle felt a tremor of nerves. “That game’s embarrassing.” She’d played it a few times with Seera, and often ended up lying, despite the name of the game.

  Jack smiled. “I won’t ask anything embarrassing.”

  Isabelle sighed. “Fine.”

  “Have you ever had a boyfriend?”

  “You said you wouldn’t ask anything embarrassing.”

  Jack grinned. “I didn’t.”

  “Yes, you did.”

  “Well?”

  Isabelle sighed, kicking a clod of dirt off the road as they walked. “No.”

  “Have you ever kissed anyone?”

  Isabelle eyed him with mock severity. “Not fair. That’s two questions.”

  Jack shrugged. “I’ll answer two questions if you do.”

  Isabelle bit her lip. “No, I haven’t.” This was getting awkward. She glanced at the young man. “Have you?”

  Jack’s face reddened. “No. One more question.”

/>   Isabelle mulled over it, wondering what she should ask him. “Why did you decide to become a Fabled Hunter? No wait, where did you get your harp?”

  “That’s cheating.” Jack winked at her. “I want to become a Hunter because I want to make a difference.” His smile grew. “And the harp is still a secret.”

  “Why?”

  Jack shrugged, but his smile turned uneasy. “I earned it, Isabelle. Heaven knows it cost enough.”

  That was maddeningly mysterious, but no amount of prodding would get him to say more.

  Lush green rolling hills as far as the eye could see. Isabelle took a deep breath, taking in the scent of rich, fertile soil.

  The farms out here were bursting with early crops. Everything seemed to be growing well. The fields were sprouting the beginnings of what would be corn, wheat, beans, and edible greens. The sun seemed warmer in this province too. Spring was finally here.

  Farmers went about their daily tasks, their movements slow and rhythmic with the practiced ease of people who’d been following the same pattern for years.

  “It seems peaceful here,” Isabelle remarked. Ash trotted at her side, tongue lolling out of her mouth, tail wagging.

  “Agreed.” Jack wiped sweat from his brow and peered ahead. They’d been traveling down the same road for several days. The Eastern Province was governed by Baroness Ebony. Each of the Four Provinces were ruled by either a baron or baroness, with the city of Illyminatym at the heart of the kingdom, where all four provinces met.

  Erum was on the low southeast side of the Northern Province. It was closer to Illyminatym than where they were now, but there was no point in traveling to the city until they’d settled the business with the giants here and had some sort of proof.

  Isabelle felt footsore and weary as she walked beside Jack. The tall redhead strode forward with focus and purpose, his jaw set with determination.

  “I’m going to do it, Isabelle,” he said, bringing Isabelle out of her thoughts. “I’m going to make a difference.”

  “What do you mean?” Isabelle held her skirts a little over her ankles, trying to keep pace with his long strides. She was rather looking forward to wearing trousers. All Hunters did, regardless of gender. “As a Hunter?”

  “Yes. I want to make a difference in the world,” Jack explained. He stared ahead at the road before them, not meeting Isabelle’s gaze. “A big difference. I want to matter. I want people to remember me.”

  “Of course you matter,” Isabelle said.

  Jack shot her a troubled look. “Not really. Not yet.” He pointed to a nearby cluster of trees. “Let’s set up camp here for the night.”

  Aside from the orchards, there weren’t very many trees in this area of the Province, and this copse could potentially be their only chance for shelter before night fell.

  Isabelle was bothered by what Jack had said, but he was clearly agitated so she let the matter drop as they readied their camp. Dinner was roasted rabbit and foraged greens. Jack seemed to know his herblore, which plants were edible and which ones were not.

  Dusk came and night shadows lengthened. Isabelle rolled out her blanket. Jack mimicked her, placing his an appropriate distance from hers, but still close enough so they could hear each other if one spoke.

  Isabelle lay down, back flat on the ground. She gazed up at the sparse canopy above her head. Jack sat down a few feet away, pulling his harp out of its case with a contented sigh. He began to play, the sweet notes rippling over Isabelle in a soothing melody.

  Isabelle turned onto her side, propping herself up with an elbow. She smiled; evenings were her favorite part of the day, when Jack played his music.

  She watched him as his long, graceful fingers danced over the golden strings, his expression soft, as if the music washed all his cares away.

  Ash crouched near Isabelle. Isabelle reached and patted the wolf’s fur. It was nice to not have to take turns keeping watch with Jack. Ash would let them know if danger approached.

  The last light of day disappeared and Jack put his harp away, laying down. The stars came out, twinkling and shining far above them. So many. So beautiful. They were the same, yet different, each shining with their own, individual light.

  “You’re an amazing person, Jack,” Isabelle whispered. “I think you’re already making a difference, simply by existing.” She winced in the dark. That sounded a little mushier than she intended.

  Jack stirred and turned his face toward her. His voice was soft when he spoke. “You’d be the first person I’ve met to think that.”

  Isabelle shook her head. “You had parents too.”

  Jack snorted. “My father died when I was young. I don’t remember him much, except that he also had red hair. My mother never spared an opportunity to remind me I wasn’t anything like him.” He trailed off awkwardly. “It’s not a big deal.”

  Isabelle peered at him in the dark. “You can’t start a story without finishing. What do you mean?”

  Jack’s form shifted, like the ground was rocky. Maybe it was. “Eh, I just wasn’t the wise, prudent leader my father apparently was. I had grand ideas, several of them, but nothing ever seemed to work out. I wasn’t content to lead a farmer’s life. I’ve always felt like there was something different for me. That my lot in life was different from most.” He was quiet a moment before asking, “Have you ever felt like that?”

  “Yes,” Isabelle admitted.

  It seemed to be the right answer. Jack stood, pacing the small clearing of saplings. “I was a disappointment to Mother. I’m not Jack, Will’s son. I’m Jack the simpleton. Jack the foolish.” His tone dropped, almost a whisper. “Jack the dreamer.” He was looking her way, but Isabelle couldn’t see his expression in the darkness. “The last straw was when my mother sent me into town to sell the cow. I thought I had traded the cow for gold.” He laughed, turning away, but his voice shook. “It was painted rocks. I couldn’t tell the difference. They looked like gold to me. We almost starved that winter.”

  Isabelle’s heart felt like it would break with compassion. She stood and went to Jack, wrapping her arms around him, leaning into his back. “My mother thinks I’m a failure too.”

  Jack didn’t respond, but she felt his body stiffen. She continued. “She thinks I have my head in the clouds. Archery is a man’s sport. A waste of time. I should find work proper for a woman, and find a husband.” She couldn’t help the contempt that crept into her voice. “I don’t want to waste my life away with a man I don’t love. I want to do great things also, to be remembered.”

  Jack was silent for a long moment. “We’re alike in many ways,” he said at last. “We both want the same thing. Some say it’d be easier to settle for what life gives me.” He didn’t have to continue. They both knew. It was impossible to ignore the call of their souls.

  Jack reached his arm behind himself to give Isabelle an awkward hug. She hastily pulled away, afraid of what his embrace might mean. “Good night, Jack.” She dived under her blankets.

  “Goodnight.” Jack sounded disappointed, but Isabelle turned away, firmly locking her emotions away. She wasn’t ready for anything more than friendship.

  17

  The beanstalk grew upward, it’s leafy branches curling out in every direction to catch the sun, glowing bright green. Even when she shaded her eyes from the sun, Isabelle couldn’t see where it ended. Ash stood silently by her side, golden eyes scanning the land surrounding them.

  “Where does it go? I don’t see any ground up there.” Jack peered upward, his eyes squinting in the bright sunlight. “Where would the giants go?”

  “I don’t know.” Isabelle didn’t. There wasn’t even a bank of clouds or mist. The sky was a brilliant blue, nothing but the beanstalk to mar its perfect face. If she turned in a circle, she would see other beanstalks reaching up endlessly. The surrounding towns and villages had banded together to burn and cut them down, and while they could, more always grew in their place overnight. Magic had to be at work, but from who? A
nd why?

  Jack glanced at Isabelle. “Are you ready?” He grinned, looking pointedly at her skirt. “Why don’t you go first?”

  Isabelle laughed, taken aback by his brazenness. “Not a chance.” She really would consider getting trousers.

  Jack sighed theatrically. “It was worth a try.”

  Reaching up, he grabbed the lowest branch and heaved himself up into the green foliage. Isabelle followed his example, and found it wasn’t really that difficult to climb. It was very much like climbing a tree, with no want for branches. They made progress quickly, soon finding themselves well over a hundred feet above the ground.

  Farther they climbed. Higher. Isabelle’s limbs began to ache. She was getting fatigued. As if reading her thoughts, Jack asked, “Are you tired?”

  “No.”

  “Don’t lie to me, Isabelle.” Jack paused a moment to wipe sweat off his brow.

  “Perhaps a little.” It felt warmer, like the beanstalk would grow up into the sun itself. She glanced down and wished she hadn’t. The ground was now far below. “How long have we been climbing?”

  “Too long.” Jack’s breath was coming quicker, but he still managed to clamber up without slowing. Isabelle felt like she was trying to keep pace with a giant tree squirrel.

  “Are you sure you haven’t done this before, Jack?”

  Jack laughed. “Climb giant beanstalks? I think I would have remembered if I had. Now, rooftops and trees I have climbed aplenty.”

  Isabelle’s hands slipped and she grasped at her branch with a startled cry. She was going to fall. She flailed at her branch, desperate, when a strong hand gripped her wrist, steadying her.

  “Careful.” All humor had left Jack’s voice. Isabelle looked up into his face—his beautiful, strong face—and found his green eyes narrowed in … she couldn't tell what emotion sparked behind them. Fear? Anger? “You’re going to be the death of me.”