Legend of the Nameless One Boxset

by Angela J. Ford

  Lord Nodin’s fists tightened, and he looked down, a puzzled expression coming to his face. “None. Why do you ask?”

  “Because something is here. I can sense it. There is an imbalance in this city, and I must find the source. At first, I thought it was in the tower, but now…I am not sure. Before we go to your brethren, we must find out what is happening here.”

  “There is nothing happening here,” Lord Nodin disagreed, his jaw set.

  Tor Lir glared at him. “Are you sure?”

  Before Lord Nodin could respond, the tower shook, and a desperate roar sounded from beneath them. Tor Lir glanced down as the stone under his feet trembled.

  “What is that?” Tor Lir hissed, holding out his hands to balance himself.

  “The beast,” Lord Nodin muttered and then he set off in a run toward the steps. As he dashed, his form changed, and Tor Lir saw a black beast hurling down the steps to the depths.

  27

  Dungeons and Danger

  Zilpha sat huddled in a cell made of stone. She shivered from the cold, but even that did not bother her as much as Lord Nodin’s betrayal. Once he showed her the fire, he’d taken her, kicking and screaming, up to the warden’s tower and locked her away in the cell. There were no words, no explanations, just her freedom suddenly snatched away. She cursed herself bitterly, wishing she hadn’t been so blind as to leap to conclusions. Reflecting on her actions, she wished she’d trusted her brother and best friend more. They would have helped her. She should have chosen them over Nodin, who’d left her in the first place. She should have trusted her first anxious feelings when he’d arrived in her bedroom, unannounced and demanding, instead of giving in to her wayward emotions.

  Plonk. The drip of water startled her out of her reverie and a deep growl reverberated through the cold stone. Zilpha leaped up, reaching for the bars and pressing her face against them. She caught her breath, peering out, but she saw nothing but cold stone in front and on either side. There was a short hallway and a torch in the distance that gave off a cool pool of wan light. Otherwise, it seemed she was alone.

  Shivering, Zilpha backed away from the bars and rubbed her shoulders to bring back some warmth. Tears flowed from her eyes again and she swallowed hard, retreating into a corner to think. They would come after some time and give her some food, at least she hoped so. She had to be ready to plan her own escape.

  Time passed. One wearying hour after the other, and still no one came. Zilpha combed her fingers through her hair and braided it. The weaving motion of moving her hair together calmed her frantic thoughts and brought rationality back to her mind. The lack of light meant she could not tell how late or early it was. For a while she had paced, too frightened to concern herself with thoughts of food. She cursed at herself for telling Bram not to worry about her. It was altogether too likely her brother would assume she’d died in the fire. Whoever had planned her capture was brilliant, down to the last detail. She groaned in dismay as she recalled how tight-lipped she had been. The last person to see her was Irik, and his concerns were fishing. He was likely down at the docks and hadn’t heard the news, and if he did would he think her alive? Would he come searching for her? There wasn’t much he knew about her aside from her friendship with Mathilda’s family. If he went to her family’s farm, they’d tell him about the fire and lead to the confirmation of her death. There had been enough time for her to go home as long as her meeting wasn’t too long.

  A sharp pain ripped through Zilpha’s head, and she eased up on her braids, aware she’d pulled too tight in her worry. Perhaps it was payback for hurting Citrine, and this was her road. Life would always be difficult for her. When she was on the cusp of happiness or finally achieving balance, everything was snatched away.

  A growl and a scent distracted her. Standing, Zilpha let go of her hair and pushed her face against the cold bars. The iron made her shiver and she squinted, peering back and forth. There. It came again, and she sniffed. A stinking sour smell permeated the air, like spoiled milk spilled on the floor. Gagging, Zilpha pulled back and covered her nose and mouth with both hands, her eyes tearing up as the stench increased.

  Suddenly a guttural cry went up, and Zilpha jumped. Swallowing hard, she bent forward and peered left and right. A second later, her attentiveness was rewarded as something long and thin swiped through the air. A tail. There was no doubt about it. Zilpha stood frozen in place as she stared, unsure what to think. It was clear some beast was in the castle, something bigger than a wolf or the wild bobcats that prowled around farmlands, seeking to steal dumb animals and eat them. It wasn’t a wolf, for they did not have slender tails. Furrowing her brow, Zilpha thought hard through a catalog of all the beasts she knew about.

  Another cry went up, and the smell became even stronger, though she was surprised that was possible. The tail swung out again, and then it seemed as if a massive body slammed into the stones, causing them to shake. Muffling her scream with her hands, Zilpha dived to the ground, narrowly avoiding a cluster of rocks that tumbled from the ceiling into her cell. A cloud of dust went up, billowing about her, forcing her to cough. She stayed huddled on her knees until the tremors subsided.

  Lifting her head, she noted the smell remained but less intense. When she lifted her eyes to the bars of her cell, she saw an opening. Sucking in her breath, she thought she just might be able to squeeze through and escape. An ecstasy of terror and joy made her gasp as she recognized the raw taste of freedom combined with the need to make decisive decisions to ensure she was not captured again. She needed to be brave, for the wild beast was still out there making a mess in the dungeons. For a moment she questioned whether Lord Nodin meant to feed her to the beast, and tears started again to her eyes as she remembered his gentle kisses and caresses. Only to come to this. How foolish she was to think they could have something more. He’d left her before, and he’d only do so again. There was no future with Lord Nodin.

  Forcing the distressing thoughts to the back of her mind, she scrambled to her feet and crept breathlessly across the stone floor to the crack. Reaching up, she touched stone and mortar. Some of it disintegrated under her fingertips, and emboldened by how quickly it crumbled out of her way, she gave the rock a hard shove. Hairline cracks appeared over the face of the stone, and she knew it might fall again if she pressed too hard. Sucking in her breath, she wiggled her way through the small opening. She pressed her shoulders against the stone and held the bars with both hands as she sucked in, sliding her body out from the prison. Within moments, she was free. Zilpha took a deep breath, allowing air to pass through her body and calm her heartbeat from the quick work. Leaving the cell was only half the battle. Now she had to find a way out of the castle, either a staircase or door that led into the light. First of all, she had to put distance between herself and the beast.

  Afraid to make a sound, she lifted a foot, bringing it down gently on the stone floor. Rubble shifted below her, and she froze again. Her breathing was all she could hear, and then the sour smell from before hit her full force. She bent over, heaving. A sharp crack rifled through the air, and she jumped in fright. The structure she stood in shuddered and dislocated rocks slide down. A moment later, she saw a patch of light. It streamed a distance away, and putting her fingers over her nose, Zilpha walked toward it. The ground shifted as she moved, and she reached out a hand for the walls, yet they gave her little security. She swayed, almost losing her footing from time to time. As she approached the light, she saw shapes sitting in it. From a distance it looked like oblong objects lying on the ground. For a moment, she wondered if they were torches or even weapons, something she could use should someone choose to attack her. Another crack came rifling through the air and Zilpha moved forward again and then paused in horror and surprise.

  The objects lying in the light were obsidian with a sprinkle of white spots covering them. Hairline fractures covered the objects and they wobbled back and forth. Something was inside of them. Zilpha gasped as a yellowish puss dripp
ed out of the eggs. Swallowing hard, daring herself to be brave, she lifted her head, eyes widening when she saw where the light came from. She was in the bottom of what looked like a stone well with a grating at the top. It was far away, perhaps twenty or so feet, and all thoughts of escaping that way vanished. The chamber was round and an arched alcove led down the halls into more cells; she assumed like the one she’d been locked in.

  An egg shook, and Zilpha, compelled by a magnetic curiosity, drew nearer. As she did, a shadow bent over the eggs. It sniffed once, then twice, and suddenly a snout huffed out air and a white claw reached out, prodding the eggs.

  Curved claws as long as her forearm moved over the eggs, rolling them back and forth. Nostrils, thick with hair, leaned down to sniff at the eggs. A guttural growl and the stink of the sour puss increased. A roving eye turned toward her, round and wide, the pupil bloodshot as it stared at her.

  Zilpha could not quash the scream that came out of her mouth, blasting through her fingers. The sniffing paused and then the eye locked her in its gaze. She froze as the thing stared at her, a liquid eye that blinked. Its depths were fierce, wild, and pulled her into its gaze. The eyes blazed with fury, and the claws turned toward her as the bulk of shadows shut out the light. Terror gripped Zilpha, unlocking her frozen fear. Turning, she fled back down the hall, past her cell as the beast roared and smashed against the wall. An eerie scraping sound came as if it were digging. In her haste, Zilpha tripped over her feet and reached out her hands to stop her fall. She landed on her palms and knees, scratching them against loose rubble. A hellish roar sounded, and she climbed back up, uttering an oath, wishing there was light, anything to help her see as she fled. And suddenly, her wish was granted. Rounding a corner, she saw a torch casting light over an old iron door. Zilpha ran up to it, her heart sinking moments before her fingers wrapped around the latch and tugged. It held fast. Locked. Behind her she heard the scraping of claws; the beast was coming for her and she was trapped in stone. She screamed, beating her fists on the door. “Let me out. Please. Let me out!”

  28

  Bane of the Water World

  The filtered light turned brown, blocked by a shape that floated over the Under Water World. Citrine rolled over, scrambling to regain her footing, and glanced up. What she saw made her heart falter and the breath whoosh out of her body, leaving her gazing in terror. Above her the muscular body of a sea demon swam. It was about eight feet long with arms and legs like a mortal, but the resemblance ended there. Its body was encased in hard shell, showing off the contortions of its powerful muscles. A fin ran from the top of its bare head down its back to its hindquarters. In the dim light, it was difficult to determine its coloring—either a steel gray or midnight green, blending with the shifting colors of the Jaded Sea. The creature’s powerful limbs had curved claws for hands and feet, with webbing in-between.

  As Citrine watched, the claws lengthened until they were as long as her forearm. But it was the face which struck terror into her heart. Gills on its neck moved in and out, following the tradition of the fish. Its thin mouth opened and closed, air bubbles escaping in a thin stream which marked its passage. It had a flat nose and two holes where its eyes should have been, but there was nothing in those sightless pockets. The aura it gave off filled the sea, and it emitted a high, vicious cry—wild, feral and terrifying. A murky cloud of purple ink exploded, blocking Citrine’s view of the creature. Her heart pounded, and time slowed down. The screams of the Udi faded, and she felt a familiar ringing in her ears. This creature reminded her of the Master of the Forest and his dark wishes.

  “With me,” someone shouted, and suddenly Aer’wyna was there. She snatched at Citrine’s wrist and pulled her down the passageway, running at full speed.

  “What is that thing?” Citrine screamed. She sensed the fear that hung heavy in the air, like the scent of death after an animal was slain.

  Aer’wyna spoke between breaths, her words coming out short and choppy. “She is the bane of the water world. If we don’t run, she will break the tunnels and consume us.”

  “She?” Citrine assumed there was more to the story. “Why are you running? Why aren’t you fighting?”

  “We cannot fight her,” Aer’wyna snapped with more anger than Citrine expected in her tone.

  Citrine wanted to ask more, but suddenly Udi were on all sides, pressing together as they dashed down the concave chamber. Flashes of light and shadows erupted around her, and then a thundering came from behind, the voice of the sea shouting with fury.

  Aer’wyna’s grasp on Citrine’s wrist tightened, and she moved faster, weaving among the bodies as instructions were called out.

  “She’s broken through, raise the barricades!”

  “Aim for the keep, swim to safety.”

  “Make sure the children are protected first.”

  Wails of terror sounded in the distance, and suddenly Aer’wyna pushed her. Citrine stumbled and before she could catch her balance, she fell through a hole and the light disappeared. She slid on her back, arms and legs kicking as she rode out of the rushing water. The cries, screams, and the terror of the Udi faded. The ride continued until she coasted to a slow stop, wet rock sloping down gently to place her in the bottom of an underground canyon.

  Pale eyes looked at her, and as Citrine rose, she found herself staring up at a crowd of Under Water World People. There were males, females, and children in colorful garb, some wearing flowing skirts made of blue, purple, and pink, while others garbed themselves with shell-like jewelry. They looked at her, solemn and without expression, and then one by one, they fell to their knees and bowed their heads.

  Citrine, doubtful they were bowing to her, turned around and saw Aer’wyna stood behind her, holding what looked like a staff with three prongs at the end. Above her a circle of jewels spun in a slow rotation, and Citrine took a step away from the Udi, bowing her head.

  Aer’wyna lifted her chin, her white hair swinging around her. She gestured to Citrine. “Follow me,” and walked through the crowd of Udi. They parted for her, allowing Citrine to see they walked up a slope to where three thrones looked down upon the people. Above them a sea of gems twinkled, like stars in the night sky. Citrine’s mouth hung open and questions filled her mind, but she was determined to let the Udi explain their actions.

  Aer’wyna walked up a short staircase to the thrones, where two male Udi sat, their silky hair long and flowing to their waists. They also carried staffs. One had two prongs at the end and the last had only one. Citrine assumed the leadership of the Udi was a three-tiered system, and she paused in the circle before the three thrones while Aer’wyna walked up another set of steps to the throne in the middle and perched on the edge, the staff between her legs.

  Each throne was ten feet tall with a wide seat made of stone. Each end came to a tapered point with a gem melded into the very end point. Ornate carvings were on the back, but hidden once the seat was filled. Citrine imagined the stone seats could not be very comfortable. The males regarded her impassively, but Aer’wyna banged her staff down three times on the stone floor and a jewel-toned ringing went out, like a multitude of glass crashing and shattering together. Citrine’s ears rang, but she dared not move from her position, unaware of the traditions of the Udi and what they would take offense to. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ray’nava push through the crowd, coming to stand near the front. The Udi raised expectant eyes to their leaders, and a hush covered the gathering.

  Aer’wyna and the two other males lifted shell crowns onto their heads, then held their staffs in their right hands. Aer’wyna stood, her voice loud and commanding as she spoke. “The Court of the clan of Luna is now in session. Prince Stefan will report on the attack, and then we shall turn to negotiations.”

  One of the male Udi stood, Prince Stefan, Citrine assumed. He carried the staff with one prong and his hair was the color of sunshine. Light twinkled around the shells he wore, and Citrine crossed her arms, unwilling to be tempted by the
foreign beauty of the Udi.

  “Scouts report the Cryptids are on the prowl again and attack our home more frequently than they used to. We believe this is due to the increase in ships and monsters on the surface of the sea, limiting the food supply and turning the focus of the Cryptids toward our clan. While they are many, the mother of them all, Tretis, was spotted by scouts earlier today. Although they are too strong for us to fight, my sister, Aer’wyna, has a solution.”

  “A potential solution,” Aer’wyna agreed, and her round eyes met Citrine’s.

  A shiver passed through Citrine, but whether it was from anticipation or fear, she did not know. Now the Udi would come to the reason why she was down here in the first place.

  “As you all know,” Aer’wyna continued, “we have been stalked by these terrible creatures for years. They secrete a poisonous ink which contaminates our waters, they eat our food supply, and destroy our homes with their viciousness. Old tales say they used to be like us, and are trying to become Udi again, but a wicked curse transformed them to the fallen beasts they are today. Whether or not those tales are true, we have proof they specifically target us, regardless of where we go in the under world. They are led by Tretis, and we believe if she is taken down, the others will follow, which is why Citrine, the Enchantress, has joined us today.”

  Citrine froze. The Enchantress. How did they know who she was? What did they expect her to do for them? The memory of the beast with the sightless eyes and horrific claws made her sweat. She could not breathe underwater, and even if she called in her beasts, those claws might rip apart even Morag’s tough hide.

  Aer’wyna’s sing-song voice pulled Citrine from her thoughts. “Enchantress. Last night I heard your vibrations ripple across the waters and felt your call for help. Your power to call those who follow you to your side grows stronger by the water. We heard of your greatness from the leviathan who calls himself Morag. He told of how you saved him from the Master of the Forest. If a beast like that does your bidding, you are powerful enough to destroy our enemies. In exchange, we will grant your desire—a haven for you and your beasts to dwell in without fear from the mortals and the power to keep it so. Citrine the Enchantress, do you agree to help us?”