Legend of the Nameless One Boxset

by Angela J. Ford

  Smoke billowed through the air like an emerald cloud on a clear day. An incandescent shimmer filled his vision, and the raw scent of power imbued the air. He sniffed, unable to describe what it smelled like. The fire raged like a hungry beast, licking up the milky-white pool, and yet it did not spread any farther. It was contained in the circle, a ceaseless fire.

  Tor Lir dropped his arms and his gazed moved skyward. How would he find Citrine? He needed a connection, a trail that would lead directly to her. A thought blinked into his mind so strongly a grin came to his face. He focused his gaze on the sky, took a deep breath and shouted with all his might, “Ava.”

  His voice boomed from the depths of his belly with a surprising resonance. The call echoed off the mountain tops. Cheeks pulled, back the grin stayed on his lips and he shouted again and again. Out of all of Citrine’s beasts, Ava was partial to him. He admired her fearsome beauty and was well aware she could understand him; he just did not have the same ability Citrine had to connect with her beasts with her mind.

  A crack in the pool drew his attention back to the walls of fire he’d created. Flames had consumed the milk-white liquid, leaving a hole in the ground where the pool had once been. Tor Lir stepped back, although the fire still burned. A rushing sound came to his ears like the roar of a wind, only there was no wind, and his fingers twitched in the stillness. Warmth flamed his face, and his eyes grew wide as he realized he needed to stop it.

  He held out his fingers and called out a command. “Stop.”

  Flames leapt into the air, higher if possible. Tor Lir took a step back. “Stop.”

  The hole in the ground spread like a mouth, opening up wider and wider as though it would swallow the mountain. The ground shook, and fissures opened up. Tor Lir continued to back away, his eyes widening as the rock in front of him dropped away, diving into the black hole. The fire swirled into it and the thunder of the mountain drowned out all sound. Panic furled through Tor Lir, and he shouted repeatedly. “Ava. Ava!”

  38

  Stone

  Light glittered, and there it was. A lemon-yellow stone. The same color of her eyes. Around it other jewels shimmered behind the ice, promising wealth to those who mined the tunnels. Time slowed down for Citrine. The stone she’d originally searched for but gave up after she heard about the Clyear of Revelation. Excitement tingled in her fingertips. It was pure luck the stone was here.

  “Oy. Who are you?” a voice demanded.

  Citrine paused in her tracks, a scowl crossing her face at the interruption. The beady eyes belonged to a four-foot-tall Fúlishité. A mane of silver hair ran from his head past his waist, and his mouth was lost in the bush of his silver beard. He raised frost-covered eyebrows at Citrine, kicked out the last of the rubble, and stepped out of the wall. Once he moved out of the way, another Fúlishité followed him, and another, and another.

  Citrine ignored the question and continued on her path to the stone. It perched at eye level, a few feet away from where the Fúlishités’ tunnel opened up. The stone glimmered behind a sheet of ice. She just needed a knife to dig it out. Her fingers went to her waist, but she was defenseless. A curse left her lips. She’d foolishly lost the knives that Novor Tur-Woodberry—the friendly giant—had given her. Her eyebrows creased, and she chewed her bottom lip.

  “Who is she?” a Fúlishité, perhaps the same one, asked.

  “Is she deaf?” another chimed in.

  “Besotted with treasure from the looks of it,” mumbled a third.

  “Nah,” a grumpy voice added. “That’s the one that came to see our queen.”

  “Which one?”

  “The one she gave the Clyear.”

  Citrine sighed, spun around, and shuffled back a few steps. An army of Fúlishités filled the chamber. When they came out of the tunnel, they’d dropped pickaxes by the entrance. The Fúlishités were dressed in leather with knives in their belts, an ax on their shoulders and a crossbow on their backs. They were prepared for a battle, a war. They formed rank after rank, standing shoulder to shoulder in a straight line, ready to march into the depths of the mountain.

  “What are you doing here?” she squeaked.

  The silver-bearded Fúlishité stepped forward. He did not carry any weapons; instead, he folded his arms across his chest. “Ah. She speaks. Who are you? What are you doing down here?”

  “I am Citrine, the Enchantress.” She lifted her chin, proud of herself for using her title, Enchantress. It rolled off her lips as though it belonged there. “I suppose you serve the Frost Queen?”

  “Aye,” he snorted. “She gave you the Clyear. You’re supposed to be killing the beast.”

  Killing the beast? The question hung on Citrine’s lips, and she recalled the monster both Grift and Ava had spoken about. Her hands went to fur, and she pulled out the shards of the Clyear. It faded in her hands, misting away to a silver nothingness. Citrine blinked hard and felt a hollowness in her chest. Anger laced through her. “I’m supposed to kill the beast?”

  “Aye, that’s why she gave it to you,” the silver-haired Fúlishité went on, his tone taking on a distinctly unfriendly tone.

  “I. . .” Citrine trailed off, at a loss for words. Why didn’t the Frost Queen share her plan instead of leaving Citrine in the dark? She’d looked into the Clyear of Revelation, but for the wrong reasons. If she hadn’t been curious about Tor Lir, she might have seen the truth the Frost Queen wished for her to see.

  “Stop mouthing off, Dorian,” a dark-haired Fúlishité said. “My lady, if you would, it is not safe here. You need to follow the tunnels to safety.”

  Citrine glanced at the dark gaping hole and down at herself. It would be a tight fit but. . . “As you wish. I would like a word with the Frost Queen. But first I need an ax.”

  The Fúlishité called Dorian shrugged. “Have your pick. Tell us, where are the Therian?”

  Citrine’s eyes narrowed as she studied their sharp weapons. A chill went through her, but this time not from cold or excitement. “Warring among themselves. Some of them are sane, but others have gone mad. Did you come here to kill them?”

  Dorian scowled. “It is not your concern.”

  “But it is,” Citrine demanded. “I need to know. Did you come to kill them or save them? Did you trap them down there? Where there is no way out?”

  Dorian’s scowl deepened. “If you must know, someone needed to take action. And so we did. We blocked the exits, trapped the Therian in their own fortress, and stole their supply of food and water so when this moment came, they would be desperate to save themselves and make a deal. We will take care of the wild creatures, and if the others agree, we will lead them to safety.”

  Relief surged through Citrine at their words. It was as the Frost Queen said. They had come to save the Therian. She nodded, releasing them from her questions.

  The army of Fúlishités turned, their feet whispering on the stone floor as they marched out of the cavern. Citrine watched, but dark feelings gave her pause. Could she trust the Fúlishités to keep their word? After all, the Frost Queen had awoken a monster. She was desperate, ready to take intense actions. Citrine’s fingers clenched. She needed to visit the Frost Queen.

  A golden twinkle pulled her gaze away from the Fúlishités. The stone. Her stone. The sensation of pleasure made her move. Snatching up a pickax from the pile, she returned to the wall and swung. The ice cracked under her first blow, chipped with the second, and shattered with the third. Shards scattered down the wall and floor, leaving the gleaming stone free to the open air.

  A grin split her face, and her fingers shook. Dropping the pickax, she ran her fingers over the bumps on the surface of the stone. It came free, tumbling into her palm as though it belonged with her. The rough stone filled up her palm, and there was a weight to it. Her fingers closed around it, and her eyes glistened with tears.

  Citrine waited for the revelation. For strength and power to flow through her. For a deeper understanding of the world she lived in. />
  At first there was nothing, and then she felt a nudge. Something was being pushed toward her mind. Life buzzed around her, within the very stones. She heard sound like she’d never heard it before and voices far, far away, close to the barrier where life and death intersected.

  There was more, but something touched her shoulder.

  Citrine jumped. A hairy Fúlishité stood before her, his face covered by his beard, but it seemed as though his eyes twinkled and laughed at her. “If you are quite done treasure hunting, I will take you to the Frost Queen.”

  She sighed and put away the stone. “Lead on then.”

  She would examine it later. After she found Tor Lir and her beasts flew them out of the mountains. She glanced back with regret as the army of Fúlishités marched down the passageway. Had the Frost Queen just sent them to their deaths?

  39

  Pieces

  Citrine was relieved when the tunnel ended. It was almost too small, and she had to bend over and, in some places, crawl on her hands and knees. During the trek, she realized she could not hear the wild beasts anymore, and when she reached out threads of communication, there was nothing. In her excitement about the lemon-yellow stone, she’d forgotten to hold on to the wild beasts. Or perhaps the Therian had won the battle against them and they were all dead.

  A sinking feeling came over her, and she thought, again, of Elbron and his protective ways. How disappointed he would be at how everything turned out. And Zilpha in her innocence, trusting in Lord Nodin’s false promises. Citrine bit her lip as the Fúlishité led her to the Frost Queen. Even Hava had fallen to the doom of the Cascade Mountains. Citrine wished she had fled when the premonition of doom had struck her instead of continuing on into what seemed like the eye of a terrible storm.

  The stone under her feet trembled now and then—small quakes that made her reach out for the wall, something steady and secure. Even the depth of the kingdom under the mountain frightened her. She wanted to be free, out in the wild winds, soaring on the back of Grift or Ava.

  When they reached the hall of the queen, Citrine’s hand went to her mouth. The icicles that hung from the ceiling had fallen, covering the hall with pieces of ice. The Frost Queen paced on her dais, white furs trailing behind her. At the sound of their approach she turned, and a smile came to her lips. Tossing her white hair behind one shoulder, she strode down the steps, hands outstretched. “Come at last? Have you slain the beast?”

  Citrine scrunched up her nose, confused. She paused an arm’s length from the Frost Queen and glared at her. “What are you talking about? I haven’t killed the beast. I’ve been trapped with the Therian and their horrible wild beasts. Where is Tor Lir? I much desire to speak with him.”

  The Frost Queen dropped her hands, and her eyes narrowed. “What of the Clyear of Revelation?”

  Citrine shrugged. “It broke when the avalanche began and disappeared into a fine mist. It was not my intent, but I was not aware a monstrous beast would be let loose in the mountains. Tell me. Was this your doing?”

  The Frost Queen took a step back, a haughtiness coming over her face. “Tor Lir and I used the power of Orenda to awaken the beast. Now the Therian will pay for what they have done.”

  Citrine paused, a mixture of emotions surging through her. What was Orenda? Where was Tor Lir? Why had he given in to the Frost Queen’s demands when he’d seemed so set on killing her? “I saw the army you sent after the Therian. Do you intend to save them? Or kill them?”

  “Are you my enemy too? Would you seek to judge me?” the Frost Queen demanded, her lips turning down.

  Citrine raised her hands, confused. “Why are you doing this? There are people in the mountains, people who did not deserve for their homes to be stripped away because you need revenge.”

  “People can resettle,” the Frost Queen said, without repentance.

  “Not if they are dead!” Citrine all but shouted. “Where is Tor Lir, and where is the beast? I need to put an end to this.”

  The Frost Queen’s lips thinned. “He leapt off the ledge at the top of my kingdom, perhaps he is dead too. I assume he went to stop the beast, after I helped him awaken his power. A poor thanks.”

  Citrine blinked. Dead. Tor Lir? Everyone could not be dead.

  Fear stole her breath away, and a realization bloomed. She cared. She truly cared what happened to Tor Lir. After everything they’d been through, she wanted to see him, to know he was safe. The visions from the Clyear of Revelation whirled before her. If he were dead, he would not go to Daygone and take up his power. She should be happy. But. . .why was there a hollowness inside? Why did her fingers shake again? But if the Frost Queen had helped him awaken his power, he did not need to go to Daygone. He was dangerous and needed to be contained. Could she bring herself to make the right choice?

  When her voice came out, it sounded tinny. “You helped him awaken his power?”

  The Frost Queen waved her hand. “The power of the mountains. We called it Orenda. There is a pool of it under the mountains, and those who dwell here feel its effects. It’s the reason the Therian can shift, the reason I control the icicles, and why the Tribe of Minas are such excellent hunters. Unfortunately, they did not enter my kingdom in time. The demise of their tribe is regrettable, but this is all for the greater good. Chaos comes to the mountains, but it will rebirth something greater, something better.”

  Citrine stared, numb with horror. The words of the sacred oath hung in her mind. Never harm another. “But. . .but you just killed everyone.”

  The Frost Queen turned. “If you have come here to judge me, you may leave. Don’t you have a beast to kill?”

  Citrine fumed. “Show me where the ledge is.”

  40

  Beast

  The higher Citrine walked, the more the ground shook. It was uneven and broken in places, but she persisted. She reached the top out of breath and bent over, sucking in great gulps of ice-cold wind. Her fingertips were blue, and the wind howled like a furious beast, awoken from its winter slumber. An opening showed a blur of whiteness and broken edges of rock, possibly where the ledge might have been. She used her hand to shade her eyes, struggling to see. And as she did, she saw movement in the mountains, a streak of fire, and then a terrifying beast.

  Her jaw dropped. Heart racing, she backed away several paces, taking in black, burnt fur covering the impossibly huge body of a gigantic bear. She swore, raking her mind for words to calm herself. It was as big as a mountain, with paws that could kill her in one swipe. Citrine took a deep breath and clutched the fur thickly around her. As she did so, she felt the stone. Her stone. Her fingers shook as she pulled it out and held it up to the light. Could the stone help her kill the beast? Because as much as she wanted to see it in all its majestic beauty and add it to her collection, there was no doubt in her mind. Too much destruction had already happened. She needed to kill the beast.

  Tears streamed down her face as she stood there, and she was unsure whether she was crying for herself, the beast, the Frost Queen, Tor Lir, the Tribe of Minas, or the Therian. They would be all gone shortly, and perhaps so would she. Before she began, she closed her eyes and sent out a whisper.

  Grift. Ava. Where are you?

  Grift was the first to respond. I saved as many as I could, but I can’t find any more now. The storm is too great. Where are you? It’s time to go home.

  Thank you, Grift. I have to do one more thing. I must kill the beast.

  I will find you.

  I’m in the mountain, Grift. The Frost Queen’s mountains. Stay away until the beast is dead. It’s too dangerous.

  As you wish.

  A sob stuck in her throat as she envisioned her golden beast flying through the mountains, saving random people as they fell. She recalled the little girl that had come to her in the wood. The little girl who watched with a fear, and her heart caved. She had to know. Grift. One more thing. Tell me. Did you find a little girl with black hair in two braids?

  I did. She
is safe.

  Citrine nodded, and her eyes narrowed. Homeless. Tribeless. The little girl would be like her. Momentarily, Citrine wondered if she could find her and take her under her wing. But she pushed the thought away. She had too much with her beasts as it was, and the endless search for a home for them. Taking on a child would be too much, and she’d lost her book of spells, a book she needed to rewrite once again.

  Anger forced her movements, and she took a step back toward the broken ledge when a roar shook the cave. Fire spurted across the snow, there for a moment and then snuffed out by the wind. But it had done its work. The bear reared back on its hind legs, screaming with pain.

  Ava, Citrine called again.

  Burning it down, the reply came. Brief. Instant. Severed.

  Another flame of fire lit up the storm and then. Tell him to stop calling me. He’s distracting.

  Who? Citrine asked as she lifted the stone. Power surged through her, but whether it was from the stone or Orenda, she did not know.

  Tor Lir, Ava hissed. He’s calling my name over and over again. Tell him to stop.

  Tor Lir. A surge burst through Citrine and she knew what to do. Ava. Go find him. I will take care of the beast.

  There was silence, but Citrine assumed Ava heard and would obey. She sent out feelers toward the bear and connected to it. Its mind was a mass of frustration, anger, pain, hunger. It wanted to sleep, but the wild world was confusing. The wind, ice, and snow made it angry, for it wanted to hunt and there was not a food source available. The coldness made it want to hide away, back under the mountain and sleep, but dig as he might, there was nothing, no way for him to return to his resting place. Worst of all, there was a pesky flying creature that rained down a terrible pain that burned his fur. He wanted nothing more than to be away from all of it, back down whence he’d come, away from the light, the storm, the pain, and the gnawing hunger.