Tor Lir swallowed to gather moisture back into his dry mouth. He took the time to examine his surroundings as he decided what to say. A stream flowed through the middle of the encampment, disappearing into the gray vines of the forest. Thick trees rose on either side, casting cool shadows over the village.
On either side of the stream were huts made out of what looked like sticks for walls and straw for roofs. Ropes and pulleys led up into the trees. Tor Lir saw females and children in the trees, crouched on branches, their faces covered in black paint. They held spears in hand while they peered down at the new prisoners.
Cloth weaved of red-and-white patterns hung from tree branches and lay in front of the doorless opening to huts, like a welcome mat. Sticks for fires were stacked in intervals across the forest village. Baskets of fresh fish, some with their tails wagging in desperation, perched dangerously close to the water as if those fishing had abruptly abandoned their catch.
The people on the ground—mostly males—stood at the bottom of the hill, gazing up at Tor Lir and Citrine. They all appeared around the same height—about five feet—and animal fur covered their lean bodies. Some wore claws on their heads while others had bare arms with runes painted on their bodies. A few of the bolder males sprinted up the hill and gathered around Tor Lir, whispering in their language and poking him with their rather blunt spears.
“Aye, aye.” Tor Lir spoke up as he swung, trying to get away from their spears. “Where is your leader?”
The people turned and pointed, saying something like yah, yah, yah. They backed away from Tor Lir and Citrine, creating an opening. Tor Lir squinted, yet he saw no one as the tribe’s people hummed and chanted, swaying back and forth.
A shadow appeared from within the trees, weaving through the tribe, touching their heads with its black bear claws. It was a head taller than all the people and moved with an intense grace. Tor Lir squinted as the shadow walked into the sunlight and revealed itself as a male.
His aura commanded the fear and respect of his tribe, from the way he walked with his back straight and shoulders tall to the way his dark eyes glittered, examining Tor Lir from head to toe. A scar crossed one of his cheeks as if he’d wrestled with some animal and won, standing out against his tan, dark, leathery skin. His feet were bare because he did not care about the rough terrain of the forest piercing the soles of his feet. He crossed his hands over his chest as he walked up to Tor Lir, gazing at him before turning and spitting into the mud.
“You attacked my people?” The male’s bushy eyebrows sank low, his voice deep and ferocious.
Tor Lir stuck his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he determined how to respond. The male gave off an aura difficult to read and Tor Lir was unsure what reaction the words would bring. “Nay. They attacked first. We only defended ourselves.”
The male frowned. “You were in our territory.”
Tor Lir shrugged as best he could with his hands tied above his head. “There was no warning. If we’d known this was your territory, we would have avoided it.”
The male raised a hand and Tor Lir fell silent, recognizing the sign that told him to stop. “The Tribe of Fyn does not welcome strangers. Your arrival is fortunate. You will be the sacrifice for the gods of the forest.”
A pulse of adrenaline shot through Tor Lir at the word sacrifice. Memories of the grand sacrifices of blood and fire came to the forefront of his mind, and a sudden nausea rose in his stomach. “It would be to your advantage to let us go. We came to this forest with a purpose and must not be sidetracked, lest a great calamity befall the inhabitants of this wood.”
The male’s eyes flickered. “A great calamity has befallen this land. You attacked my people and for that, you must pay. A life for a life.”
Tor Lir sighed. “My companion”—he jerked his chin toward Citrine—“was overzealous in the use of her knives and for that, I beg forgiveness. We are on a quest and did not intend to interrupt your scavengers. If you will let us go, we will be on our way and will never intrude on your land again.”
“Hum . . .” The leader pursed his lips, his brown eyes scanning first Tor Lir and then Citrine. “Does your companion agree?” He pointed at Citrine.
“Er. . . perhaps if she were awake.” Tor Lir bit his lip.
“We shall see.” He spun, facing his tribe, and ordered, “Prepare the sacrifice!”
Tor Lir’s eyebrows shot up. Sacrifices were common enough, and from time to time, he’d joined in the rituals in Shimla, sacrificing a portion of the harvest to the sacred Creator. Most sacrifices involved an altar and burning with fire. Suddenly, he did not feel so cocky. “Perhaps we can come to an agreement? Or trade?”
The male paused before turning to face Tor Lir, his expression curious. “Trade?” His tone was quiet, commanding respect. “What are you offering?”
“I don’t know what you need or want, but you may have our weapons—”
“We already have those,” the male interrupted.
Tor Lir realized he was going about it all wrong. He was on the brink of begging for his life instead of bartering. There was a time when he’d stolen jewels from the caves of the Rainidrains. They were not impressed with his apology and teased him until he begged for mercy. At last, tired of their games, he’d grown cold and shouted at them. They scattered, leaving the jewels and tiptoeing around him with respect ever since. He needed to apply the same method in this situation.
Fixing the leader with his eyes, he allowed his expression grow cold and lowered his voice, letting the frosty power drift through him like fingers of ice. “The hospitality of your tribe is lacking. My companion and I are on a quest of mercy. A darkness haunts the lands of Novor Tur-Woodberry, and we seek the Master of the Forest. I assume you have heard of him since you dwell in his domain.”
The male’s eyes appeared interested, although his face was hard. He blinked once and gave a short nod.
Tor Lir proceeded. “When your tribe attacked us, I tried to speak sense into them and yet they brought us here to be a sacrifice. As their leader, I expect you to lead them with righteousness. It is clear they respect your opinion, and while I offered the weapons in a fair exchange for freedom, I am not so sure your tribe is worth it. I would prefer to discuss before you make any more false accusations against myself and my companion.”
“Why are you seeking the Master of the Forest?” The male frowned as he balled his hands into fists.
“To destroy him.” Tor Lir let a malicious smile creep into his face, savoring the anticipation of destroying an evil creature.
“Enough.” The leader reached behind his back, drew a curved knife, and strode toward Tor Lir.
In one motion, he swept the blade through the air and Tor Lir cringed, waiting for the blow. The knife sang, biting into the rope. His hands fell in front of him.
“If you are going to destroy the Master of the Forest, the Tribe of Fyn will help.” The leader placed a hand on his chest.
Tor Lir stopped short of grinning and nodded, thumping his chest twice as he bowed his head to the leader. “My companion and I would be grateful of your assistance.”
“I am called Agrim,” the leader announced. “Who are you?”
“I have no name, but you may called me Tor Lir. My companion is Citrine.” Tor Lir turned toward her. Blood dropped off her face and her bare legs were covered in scratches. “Perhaps you have a healer for her wounds?”
Agrim lifted a hand and snapped twice.
When he finished, a deafening roar shook the forest. Green leaves dived to the ground in submission, burrowing under weaved baskets and woven cloth. Tor Lir ducked as the heat of wrath surged like an out-of-control fire. As the roar faded, a massive creature burst through the foliage.
31
New Enemies
Ava, Citrine’s mind whispered before she awoke. Her body stung with pain as she opened her eyes, surprised to find her arms tied by her wrists above her head. A roar shook the forest and she peeled her eyes open
further, blinking against the sunlight as fury rolled through her. Ava? Is that you?
I heard you call and came as soon as I could. What do you want me to do?
These people hurt me. Destroy them and take me away from here.
You know the rule. Never hurt a mortal.
Citrine gritted her teeth at the truth. Cause chaos then, and set me free.
Another roar shook the forest, and out of the foliage burst Ava with her blue wings spread. She roared as she flew over the encampment, stretching out her long neck and puffing clouds of white smoke out of her nostrils. Citrine felt a grim smile come to her lips as she watched her magnificent beast terrify her captors. Ava’s massive body flew lower as she waved her long scaly tail back and forth.
People screamed at her appearance, clashing into each other as they dashed for safety. Hammocks collapsed and makeshift tree huts rolled over. Baskets of bright-orange fruit spilled and piles of firewood collapsed as Ava flew, upsetting the caged animals the tribe kept. A rough male voice shouted orders, attempting to bring some semblance of order to the attack and organize a counterattack. Citrine saw a few of the people clothed in animal skins snatch up spears and thrust them at Ava as if mere pointed rocks could pierce her scales. All the same, a fury rose in Citrine and her heart thudded as each spear fell away, harmless.
The spark of mischief blazed in her heart as the people ran. “This is why you don’t cross me. Now look who is in your midst! Look who is running now!”
She threw back her head and cackled. The blood ran into her mouth and she almost choked on her own bodily fluids. Ava’s warm breath touched her hands as sharp teeth chomped off the rope. Citrine struggled out of her bonds, turning to see where Tor Lir stood free, staring at her in aghast. His face was rather pale, but Citrine was too proud to examine him further. “Tor Lir, with me!” she shouted, grabbing his arm and dragging him toward Ava.
Tossing herself on Ava’s back, she pulled Tor Lir up behind her, scraping her knees against the rough scales. More blood flowed, smarting and stinging while Ava’s wide wings beat against the forest floor. Go. Go. Now! Citrine encouraged her.
Ava lifted, surging into the air with one final roar.
Take us to the river where Morag dwells.
Are you sure? I don’t think you want to go there.
Don’t question me—just go.
“Ha, did you see that?” Citrine bragged, using her cloak to wipe blood and gore off her face as she turned behind her to peek at Tor Lir. Both of his arms were around her waist and she assumed he was holding on, fearful of enjoying the pure glory of flying. But when she glimpsed his pallid face, she realized he was gripping her waist with absolute fury.
“How could you?” He spit the words at her. “What have you done?”
Citrine coughed up blood and spit it out over the forest floor as Tor Lir’s words sank in. Below she still heard cries from the tribe and the underbrush rustled as they gave chase, following the beating wings of Ava.
“What do you mean what did I do?” she demanded. “I just saved us.” She waved her hands in the air, her thighs gripping Ava’s back so she would not fall. “And what? You’re furious at me for saving us? Because you wanted to be the hero?”
“No,” he growled back, his grip tightening across her belly, making her gasp. “Don’t throw careless words at me. While you were passed out, I was forming an alliance with the Tribe of Fyn and you just destroyed it by attacking them again! They were going to help us fight the Master of the Forest. We would have had an army and now we’re on our own—again—because you’re too self-centered to consider the perspective of anyone but yourself. No wonder you’re alone with your beasts. The only people who get along with you are the people you can control.”
Citrine felt a hot rage sear through her. Something within her snapped and she turned as best as she could, screaming as she balled up her fists and pelted Tor Lir with her hands. “How dare you say such a thing! How dare you! You don’t know me at all and yet you judge. I hope you fall and die.”
Tor Lir held his hands up, blocking her blows. “See! This is exactly what I mean. You’re doing it again. You’re the reason people run. You’re the reason for the chaos in the land. This is your fault and you won’t let anyone help you.”
“Be quiet,” Citrine shouted, trying to hit him again, but he caught her wrists in his hands, struggling to pin her down. “I hate you,” she whispered. “You’re the balancer of good and evil, yet all you care about is balance. There are people who need help—”
“People like the Tribe of Fyn,” Tor Lir snarled. “Tell your great beast to take us down. I’m done with this adventure and this quest with you, Citrine. You should think about yourself less and consider the greater good. Perhaps you wouldn’t find yourself in quite a predicament.”
Citrine closed her eyes as his words rang out and Ava dipped lower, not quite slowing her flight as she moved toward the forest floor. Citrine wanted to drop Tor Lir from the top of the forest, swing down into the leaves, snatch up his broken body, and drop him again. Yet as she sat there, hugging herself and feeling the bruises ache, she realized there was truth to his words. If it weren’t for her rashness and anger, they might be in a better predicament.
Ava, take us to the river.
Where did you find this male? Ava snickered. He’s full of words.
I don’t want to talk about it.
Do you want me to toss him from a high cliff? I can kill him for you.
No thanks. Well, maybe after the Master of the Forest is dead. I don’t like Tor Lir very much, but I think I need his help.
He’s right, you know. The Tribe of Fyn are hunters—they could have helped.
Don’t remind me. I’m beaten and I’m tired. I don’t want to talk anymore.
32
Mythical Beings
Ava landed near a river where weeping willows perched near the bank. Tor Lir tumbled off the beast, reaching out a hand as he stood back to admire her beauty. Tor Lir felt dwarfed at the monstrous size of the beast yet awed Citrine tamed it. His opinion of her shifted. She was wild and impulsive but with beasts like these on her side, she became dangerous to cross.
After Citrine climbed down, Ava arched her long neck and faced them, tucking her blue wings onto her scaly back. Tor Lir admired the beauty of her colors—blue feathers, green scales blending into the shadows of the forest. Catching the beast’s eye, he pressed his hands, palms together, and bowed. “Thank you for your assistance, even though it was unnecessary.”
The beast blinked at him and nudged Citrine with her snout. A cloud of smoke rose from her nostrils, invading the air with a warning of fire. Citrine waved the smoke out of her face and stroked the nose of the beast like a lover.
Tor Lir crossed his arms, feeling his spine go rigid at the display of affection between female and beast. “What did she say?” Tor Lir assumed they carried a silent conversation in their minds he could not hear. He scratched his neck, shifting his weight from foot to foot in unease.
“She thinks you’re polite, but all the same she laughs at you,” Citrine mumbled without looking at him.
Tor Lir sighed. She was still angry with him and her aura was dark red, warning him against trifling with her. He expected short answers would be all he got out of her for now.
Tor Lir wished she would apologize for making a hasty decision without consulting him. Turning his back on the pair, he walked through the mud on the riverbank, recalling a fight he’d gotten into with one of his childhood companions: Nyllen.
Nyllen was the son of a ruler and primed to be king of the Green People, especially when the green giantess—who raised Tor Lir—left. Tor Lir knew Nyllen was jealous of him and they often argued about harmless things until Gundibage: Night of the Giving.
It was an annual tradition for the Iaens to remember the night of their rebirth. They remembered their downfall by the eleven Monrages (evil children of Changers) who sought to take ultimate power and rule the Four
Worlds. The Iaens celebrated their return to the land and the rebirth of their kind, provided through the grace of the Creator.
As tradition foretold, they would sacrifice a living creature, and they often selected a Green Person to perform the great honor. Tor Lir and Nyllen fought over the right to lead the sacrifice. It was Tor Lir’s responsibility as a ward of the queen, yet Nyllen wanted to take over, since he assumed, correctly, that Tor Lir would not stay around to take the crown. As they argued, Tor Lir realized it did not matter who was right and who was wrong. It took humility to become a leader. He’d been the first to reach out his hand and step down from the position. After that, Nyllen had become a friend and introduced him to the Jesnidrains, who brightened his life with frolics and folly.
“Is this the river you spoke of?” Tor Lir asked Citrine, watching the waters splash across the shallows and slick boulders. The rocks in the river would make the perfect perch for fishing.
“Aye. Ava agrees this is the river. We will follow it for a couple of days until we reach the lair of the Master of the Forest. Ava says she can fly us, but both of us are too heavy. She’s still young and hasn’t reached her full strength yet.”
“It’s of no concern.” Tor Lir lifted a hand to dismiss her words as he squatted by the riverbank. Cupping his hands, he poured the cool water over his face, refreshing himself from the trek through the woods. “The hour grows late. I dare say we’ve come far enough for a day. The sun will soon set and you need to take care of your wounds.”
Legend of the Nameless One Boxset Page 13
