Legend of the Nameless One Boxset

by Angela J. Ford

  “Shadow.” Tor Lir repeated. The words tasted bitter in his mouth, and hidden knowledge glimmered like starlight—impossible to see and yet difficult to ignore. The itch on his head grew sharp like the point of a thorn as he tried to remember if he'd ever seen his shadow.

  He closed his eyes, recalling Citrine’s bright hair, threads of her blue dress blowing in the wind, and the ripple of her shadow bouncing behind her as they strolled through the rolling hills of the South World. Sea-tinted air kissed his lips as he recalled the rustle of the wind when he flew on Ava’s back. The long shadow of the beast stretched out below, but when they landed and he dismounted, there was nothing there. No shades of darkness. No shadow. Memories blurred one after the other, yet when he looked back, the absence of his shadow stood out sharply. He drew a sharp breath in, hissing as the truth struck him. He did not have a shadow, but why?

  The words of the green giantess who raised him came to mind, as did his last conversation with her. She was the Queen of the Iaen, a Green Person, and a hero who played a hand in the great war between the mortals and immortals. At least, that was what she called it, but in truth, it was the war between the mortals and Changers.

  Changers were dark beings formed accidentally out of the Creator's spark. As the tale went, during creation the Creator was distracted by his assistant, and three sparks fell, becoming Changers who thought themselves above all and sought to destroy the people groups of the Four Worlds in their endless quest for power and paradise. Their names were not uttered among the people groups, and yet they were known in tales and ballads as the Heroes of Old who saved the Four Worlds from utter destruction and kept the people groups from extinction.

  Tor Lir allowed his mind to drift toward memories long buried, thinking of the queen who raised him. Ellagine. He had come from her. At least, he thought he had, until her their last conversation. Threads of it drifted to him, and with a hiss, he recalled the words he'd said to her.

  Tor Lir stood in the green wood, gazing up at her angular face. He spoke, sure and steady of himself with that bold knowing that youth tend to have. “You have nothing to fear from me. I am not a Changer. I do not love, and therefore I will not destroy the world because of love. I am the opposite of love. I am the opposite of fear. I am not swayed by emotion.”

  “Will you take a name?” she whispered.

  “Names are powerful. I will be called a thousand things, but I will never share my true name.”

  She pointed north, her calm words ringing in his mind. “When you want to know who you are and where you came from, go to Daygone.”

  He'd paused, surprised. “I came from you.”

  She shook her head. “No. I may have borne you, but you did not come from me.”

  Then she gave him a piercing look as though she were trying to read his thoughts and peer beyond his bold façade to see what he was hiding. He put up his hand to ward off her gaze, knowing she was powerful and might see his thoughts. “Please. Don't look at me like that. You have nothing to fear. I have come to keep the balance. The world is at peace.”

  The memory faded and Tor Lir blinked, staring at his shadow, recalling the lost things he'd chosen to forget. “I am not a Changer,” he spat. A coldness filled his body, shutting out emotion. He'd allowed emotion to sway him and in doing so he’d forgotten the flavors of Shimla and the potent flare of the immortals. The edges of power had drifted from him, and he missed the woods more than he realized until the moment he stood face to face with his own shadow. The wind howled around him, screaming, and suddenly shapes stepped out of the stones and sat down within the circle.

  Tor Lir ignored them as he glared at his faceless shadow. The features had all but blurred into nothingness, and a hollow, empty feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. “Tell me. Shadow. Why have you appeared to me; all these years you’ve been part of me. Why now?”

  The shadow's voice was as cold as Tor Lir's, ringing in the same cadence. “I cannot read the future, that is your power, but I can remind you of things forgotten. Recall the words to the song, the song that flows in your blood and has flowed in your blood since the beginning of creation. Remember the words. Remember your calling and what you are meant to do.”

  The itch on Tor Lir’s head burst, and pain flashed behind his eyes, instantly fading into a distant memory. He heard a voice singing and distinctly recalled being held and rocked back and forth while a feminine voice sang.

  Long may you live

  Long may you prosper

  Spread your seed far and wide

  May your bloodline

  The new breed

  Grow ever strong

  Blood of the undying

  Blood of the immortal

  Blood of the mortals

  Blood of my blood

  Long may you live

  Long may you prosper

  You shall walk in the light

  You shall walk in the dark

  You will blend with the air and land

  Of shadows and sorrow

  Of love and light

  Of mischief and mayhem

  Of follow and forgiveness

  Long may you live

  Long may you prosper.

  He opened his eyes. The melody had always been in his thoughts, the faint thread at the end of each heartbeat. When he heard the pure words, something inside of him hardened.

  The shadow continued in the same cold tone. “Did you wonder why chaos follows at your every step? You blame the Enchantress, the one they call Citrine, mother of all beasts. But in fact, it is your true nature, for what is your purpose if you are not solving a mystery?”

  Tor Lir gnashed his teeth, held out his hand, and extended a finger to point at the shadow. It copied his movement, and both of them took a step forward.

  “I am you and you are me,” the shadow said. “But you choose to forget, and you cannot forget who you are. This is only a small piece to the puzzle. You must go to Daygone. You must uncover the truth, take up your power, and begin your life’s work.”

  The shadow wavered, growing thin as it spoke its last words. Its black finger touched Tor Lir, and a sudden coldness rushed into his body. He shivered, consuming his shadow, allowing it to become part of him once more. Then he turned to face the beings who had intruded on the circle.

  3

  Beings

  The beings were petite—no more than four feet tall, if that—and drifted in the air even though they did not have wings. Their white hair looked like the tentacles of an Actimic—a great water monster—and they glared at him with solemn faces and lidless eyes. They were ugly and fearsome, but Tor Lir was too angry to be afraid. He glared back as a slow realization dawned.

  He’d seen the white beings before. In the first vision the Clyear of Revelation had given him. Who were they? What was their connection to the Clyear? And why were they appearing to him now?

  As if the beings could hear his inner thoughts, they spoke. Their voices weaved together in a strange unison and came out as hard as diamonds.

  Something akin to fear fluttered in Tor Lir's chest not only at the sound but also at the words they spoke.

  “We are the Truth Tellers. When we appear to mortals and immortals in this world, we must demand a price. An exchange must be made. If you do not heed our words, someone you love will perish. Beware. Be warned. The price you pay is death. But you have not called us. You have run from us. But we come all the same to warn you. During a time of war, we appeared to your father and asked that he cease his quest, for his actions would cause the world to come to this. Better for the Four Worlds to be destroyed during the war than endure what is to come. And you are what is to come. The new breed. Right now, you think you walk in the light, but you have seen with your own eyes your doppelgänger, your shadow. Darkness breeds and it comes, regardless of the light that stands. You have a choice in what happens to the realm of mortals. You can guide the Four Worlds into the light of good or the darkness of evil. You. Alone. Have the pow
er. But you walk away from it. You resist. Go to Daygone. Read the book of your people. Take up the cloak of knowledge and become the first. Establish the Order of the Iaen.”

  “Truth Tellers,” Tor Lir returned. “Riddle me this. You know who I am and who gave birth to me. Tell me. Why all the secrets? Why must I go to Daygone when you stand in the In-Between and you can tell me what you know?”

  They hissed at him and darted back, their tentacle-like hair rising straight up on their heads. As one, they held up their hands, warding off his questions. “Knowledge comes with a price. You were born because of a curse, because of what your father did.”

  “And who was my father?”

  “We cannot share that knowledge with you, but heed our words. You have the blood of Changers running through your veins, that same blood that used to run in the Therian. If you go to the mountains and face down your foes, you will meet descendants of those who hide the evil one, the first Monrage. Beware, lest your blood dooms you. You shall not repeat the mistakes of those before you, but you make enough on your own.”

  The icy coldness in Tor Lir’s body gave way to hot waves of anger. It crept through him like a tidal wave, and suddenly prisms of shimmering green shot out of his fingers. “I am not a Changer, but you would have me go to Daygone, the place where all evil began and went to die. Do you think I am a fool? I know those stories.”

  “Go to Daygone, before you destroy the world with your lack of knowledge.” The ground shuddered, and the stones trembled. The Truth Tellers floated closer to Tor Lir, unnerving him with their lidless, colorless eyes. “And take the Enchantress with you. When we observed her in the Boundary Line Forest, we perceived your futures intertwine. You need her, and she needs you. Go. You were warned.”

  The ground shook under Tor Lir's feet at the last words of the Truth Tellers. They lifted up just as a crack split the ground and the first stone fell forward, like a finger curling into a fist. Dust rose like a gray cloud, but Tor Lir did not flinch. He stood still, fists clenched, watching as the Truth Tellers floated to the opening. One by one they climbed into it, descending into a pit of darkness.

  Wind surged into the circle like fingers of ice reaching out for him. Ignoring it, Tor Lir dashed to the hole in the ground. Leaning over, he peered down. Nothing was there.

  On the current of the wind, he thought he heard laughter, carried away as the sudden storm rose to a pitch, flinging his cloak around his body and tossing his long black hair. Standing, he lifted his arms up and let out a roar, but whether it was anger, frustration, or madness, he did not know. His voice carried out over the wind until it sounded like the scream of a being not of that world.

  When he finished, his arms came down. As soon as his fists touched his sides, the wind vanished as if he’d commanded it, leaving only the cold air of the night. A silver twinkle caught Tor Lir’s eye, and when he turned toward it, he saw the Clyear of Revelation.

  He tucked it into his tunic, cursing under his breath. He should have known; he should have fled the moment he saw the Clyear. The knowledge he'd feared and the memories he'd repressed had chased him down. It was part of him, a part he could no longer ignore. He needed to go to Daygone. He needed to find the book of his people and read it, understand what had happened, what Queen Ellagine of the Green People had hidden from him. It was time to stop living in the curse of his forefathers. He had to know who he was so he could change the Four Worlds and keep the balance.

  4

  Trick

  A crack rang out as the stone struck ice, and a zigzag crack split the flawless ice of the pond. Citrine lifted her chin in triumph and turned to see what expression Hava’s face held.

  Hava pushed the fur hood off her head and folded her gloved hands together. “You win,” she conceded. “Your stones went farther than mine. You are good at this, aren’t you?”

  Citrine scowled. A game of throwing stones across the pond was a momentary distraction from the journey. She shaded her eyes against the sunlight to see where their companions had gone. Lord Nodin and Zilpha were little more than blurred objects in the distance, setting a rapid pace as they continued up the sloping mountainside. And Tor Lir. . .Citrine frowned when she thought about him. He’d stayed behind the night before, claiming he’d catch up with them by nightfall, leaving her in the company of Hava. Citrine had to admit that Hava wasn’t all bad.

  Swinging her arms, Citrine resumed their monotonous walk. “I’m bored,” she groaned. "Day after day we march along and it seems like we'll never reach the land of the Therian and this Stronghold that Lord Nodin keeps talking about. It was fine when we left Sanga Sang on horses, but ever since we left them at the foothills. . .” She trailed off.

  “It has been a few weeks.” Hava fell in step with Citrine. “We have time to enjoy the beautiful landscape. Look at those mountain peaks.”

  Citrine crossed her arms and snorted. “Sure. They are lovely. Stop trying to make me feel better. I'm tired of walking, and there's nothing to look at other than all this white, white, white. White mountain peaks glittering in the distance. White snow dusting the ground. White ice across the ponds and lakes, so hard we have to chip a hole in order to drink it. I want to arrive so we can fix this and leave. Why did you decide to come, anyway?”

  Hava's head rose and her chin jutted in the air like a turtle emerging from its shell. A gust of wind whipped up, and she tucked her head back into her furs and paused. A flush came over Hava's face, and she dropped her eyes to the ground.

  Citrine examined Hava’s blushing face and bit the inside of her cheek to keep a sarcastic remark from bursting out. Hava. Usually she disliked everyone, but Hava’s company was less tiresome than Zilpha’s. That and the fact that although Tor Lir liked Hava—which annoyed Citrine, although she refused to consider why—Hava had an openness to her that made Citrine feel less flighty. Hava did not get angry at Citrine’s quips, nor did she try to compete for Tor Lir’s attention. It was mildly frustrating since Citrine enjoyed making others feel uncomfortable and holding them at a distance. But Hava seemed immune to her unfriendliness.

  Still, Citrine wanted nothing more than to relax in paradise with her beasts. She stilled her mind.

  Grift.

  Aye, mistress.

  See anything out there?

  A day’s flight from here there is a structure. It might be the Stronghold you’re traveling to.

  A day’s flight. Relief coursed through Citrine. Thank you, Grift.

  Mistress. . .

  Aye?

  I still don't understand why you are walking. I could fly you there in no time.

  “Citrine. Citrine!”

  Hava shook her arm, and Citrine flinched. “What?”

  “What happened? Your eyes glazed over like you weren't here.”

  Citrine pulled back, forcing a smile to her face. “Nothing,” she lied. “What were you saying? About why you came?”

  Citrine shook away the connection to Grift and moved swiftly up the path. Pine trees rose on all sides, and a light dusting of snow covered the ground, one that would probably melt away if the sunlight continued.

  Hava went quiet, and when she finally spoke, her tone was soft. “After everything that happened in Sanga Sang, I could not stay there. Everyone knew my father, and in their eyes, I will always be my father’s daughter. With my family’s reputation destroyed, it’s better that I start over somewhere else. Besides, I am curious.”

  Citrine tugged on her fur and risked a glance at Hava. Hava’s light eyes met hers, full of questions. “What?” Citrine asked, attempting to keep the snap out of her tone.

  Hava blushed and swallowed visibly. “I’m curious about you and Tor Lir. He's like no one I have ever met, all at once charming and kind but. . . different. I've seen the pointed ears he tries to hide, and I don't think he's a Tider like you.” Hava twisted her hands together as she trailed off. “Will you tell me?”

  A sudden sickening sensation twisted through the pit of Citrine's belly.
She furrowed her brows. “Tell you what?”

  “How did you meet him? What brought you together? And what keeps you from being with him?”

  “With him?” Citrine spat out the words like they were poison and then laughed at their absurdity.

  Hava did not move or speak, only stared with a calmness in her eyes.

  The mirth died in Citrine’s throat. With a sigh, she spun around and started walking with her head down against the wind. Memories rose in her mind so strong they almost brought tears to her eyes. She'd been angry during that time. She'd just lost everything, and then Novor Tur-Woodberry welcomed her with open arms. He gave her a home, but she'd failed to protect her beasts and allowed the Master of the Forest to manipulate her.

  Citrine shook herself, thinking about stories she'd never spoken aloud, words she'd never said to another person. Her beasts knew all, and they loved her, unlike her former lover—Hansel. She did not know Hava well, but something inside of her wanted to share, or at least give her a piece of information that would stop her questions.

  The words came out in a rush. “It was a while ago. We had a mutual friend who told us we might be beneficial to each other. Tor Lir is like. . .” She trailed off, her ears burning as she considered what would be appropriate to say. “He’s my duty, my responsibility.”

  When the words left her lips, they seemed true somehow. She’d promised Novor Tur-Woodberry to show Tor Lir the world and show him why he should care about right and wrong, good and evil, light and dark.