Skirts & Swords (Female-Led Epic Fantasy Box Set for Charity)

by L. P. Dover

  I looked up, my eyes on the trees.

  “You think I want to fight?” I asked.

  The trees went eerily still, the forest unnaturally quiet. No birds chirped, no wind stirred, and no bugs buzzed.

  “No, we think you want to prevail.”

  Chapter 7

  The trip through the forest was easier now. It wasn't dark, and the trees were superb guides. Ari circled above, occasionally dipping down into the foliage to land when I rested, her dark beady eyes watching me. According to the trees, the king's soldiers had abandoned their search. Maybe they believed the predators or thieves within the forest would kill me. I hadn't seen any thieves, but I had noted the frequent shadows that slinked among the brush.

  “Wolves,” the trees said.

  Fear made me pause, and I glanced at the thick undergrowth, at the eerie yellow eyes that peered out at me.

  “Wolves?”

  Leaves rustled, and I moved forward again, my eyes searching.

  “They will not harm you,” the trees insisted.

  Strangely, despite my apprehension, the shadows were comforting somehow. Beasts I trusted. It was men I really feared.

  “Are there truly bandits within the forest?” I asked.

  The brushwood was thick, and I was not following a trail. Even so, the way was easy, as if the plant life anticipated my steps. Bugs buzzed near my face, but they didn't bite me. They seemed to observe me instead, flying close and then ducking away.

  “There are rebels within the forest, yes. But they are dangerous only to the king's men.”

  Rebels? I had heard Mareth mention rebels in our carriage before Aigneis was killed. I had known Medeisia was a country of unrest, but I suppose I had been sheltered more than I cared to admit. Or maybe I had hidden, pretended as a child would, that our own king didn't want to kill people simply because their blood was different, their thirst for knowledge natural. I realized, quite wearily, that written knowledge only goes so far. Naivety was a whole different kind of senselessness.

  I let my fingers skim low hanging leaves as I walked, my mind whirring. My body was stiff, sore, and my stomach churned with hunger. We had stopped once at a moving creek, free of the stagnancy of standing water. I had drunk deeply before filling the water skin I carried in my right hand, but food was harder. I still had dried meat, but I was afraid to waste it.

  “Rebels. Like soldiers?” I asked

  The wind seemed to chuckle. I was beginning to get used to being laughed at. It should offend me, I suppose, but it didn't. I couldn't learn anything if I didn't ask.

  “Desperation breeds armies,” the trees answered.

  It made sense. I glanced down at my wrist. I was marked now. I was just as desperate as the rebels. Being branded was a death sentence.

  “A soldier of the king told me Sadeemia is accepting refugees who survive crossing the Ardus,” I said.

  I may be walking through the forest now, but my journey through the woods would be over soon. I needed a plan.

  “This is only rumors. The Ardus is dangerous for all except the creatures who live within it.”

  There was a warning in the trees' words. I lifted my head, my eyes on the blue sky. It wasn't cloudy today, and the air was a little cooler than it had been the day before. To me, it seemed strange that I had only left my home yesterday, that Aigneis had died the night before. I shook my head. It was easier to think about what lay ahead rather than dwell on other thoughts.

  My calf muscles burned, and my slippers were too thin to protect me from rough ground. I wasn't used to traveling so much by foot. If I was on the trails, I could catch a ride with a Packer perhaps. Packers collected firewood and sold it to towns outside the forest.

  “It is my only hope. The Ardus seems less dangerous than the king,” I said at last.

  The trees were quiet, almost disapprovingly so, and we traveled this way the rest of the day.

  It was fairly dark in the forest, fog filtering in when I finally stopped for the night. I think the trees wanted me to continue, but my legs hurt so badly now, I felt tears threaten the back of my eyes. I didn't want to cry. I didn't want the trees, plants, and creatures that followed me to see me weak. It was easier just to stop.

  If I had found it strange being spoken to by trees and followed by wolves, I had reconciled myself with it during the day's walk. I kept thinking of Aigneis, and the stories she used to tell me as a child.

  “One day the forest will speak to you,” Aigneis had said. “Do not be afraid of it. Embrace it. For the forest, unlike people, will never betray you.”

  I hadn't understood her then, although I had immediately felt a connection with Ari when I saw her as an eyas. The falcon's eyes had called to me, her frightened cries had touched my heart. I had always been that way with animals. Some I connected with more deeply than others, but I had never really connected with the forest. It surprised me now how comfortable I felt with the trees, how content their company made me feel, how easily I acknowledged their presence.

  “I think I accept you too readily,” I said to the trees as I settled against one of their trunks.

  My feet felt immediately better, the sharp pain easing as soon as I took the pressure off. They still hurt, but not as unbearably bad. I removed my slippers and rubbed my feet carefully.

  “Your magic accepts us. That is enough. Your magic knows you better than you do,” the trees said, the abrasive voice softer than it had once been. Maybe trees whispered too.

  My eyelids felt suddenly heavy, the exhaustion I had been fighting the last few hours finally catching up to me.

  “I have never heard of a mage who spoke to trees,” I pointed out, my speech almost slurred.

  There was chuckling again, chuckling and soft touches from leaves that came near and then moved away.

  “You are no ordinary mage, Drastona Consta-Mayria. No ordinary mage indeed.”

  The words made no sense. Nothing, except the need to sleep, made sense. I didn't even have it in me to wonder at the use of my name. Maybe Ari had told them.

  There were so many questions I still wanted to ask, but the darkness was finally too much. It summoned me, and I answered its call.

  Chapter 8

  There was a heavy, comfortable weight on me when I woke next. It was warm, and I was reluctant to budge, but my legs were numb and I really needed to relieve myself.

  The pressure in my bladder finally forced me to stir, but when I started to move, I was horrified when the weight on my legs actually shifted. Shifted.

  My eyes flew open, and I froze. A large grey wolf lounged contentedly over my feet, his big jaw open, his tongue lolling lazily. It took everything I had not to scream.

  “By Silveet!” I whispered harshly, my hand coming up to cover my mouth, my eyes wide.

  I had seen wolves from the distance. I had even seen sketches of them in the Archives, but this wolf was larger than I expected a wolf to be, and he was eyeing me as cautiously as I was eyeing him, although I was pretty sure my green eyes were nothing compared to his black ones. I was food. I wasn't the least bit intimidating. Oh, but he was!

  “His name is Oran,” the trees said suddenly.

  The raspy voice made me jump, and the wolf rolled off of me before standing, his legs apart as he faced me. His stance looked defensive enough that I backed up against the tree, wincing when I accidentally rubbed my marked wrist against the bark.

  “Great,” I said slowly. “It has a name. Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

  Leaves rustled and there was laughter. The urge to pee was more than insistent now.

  “He means you no harm, child.”

  For some reason, the reassurance didn't make me feel any safer. I slid slowly up the tree, my eyes locked with Oran's.

  “You are a petite thing to be the One.”

  It wasn't the trees' voice that spoke, and it wasn't mine. It was male, and it rumbled. I stared at the wolf. It wasn't possible. It just wasn't possible!


  “No,” I gasped.

  Oran sat back on his haunches. “You accept talking to trees, but you deny my speech?” He licked his paw, the move sulky. “Wolves are wiser than trees, you know.”

  Branches swayed, and leaves waved wildly.

  “Wiser indeed!” the trees huffed.

  I quickly excused myself, my need for privacy a convenient moment to think. The wolf had spoken. He’d spoken. It didn’t seem possible. None of this seemed possible. But it was. Everything about this whole situation was surreal, terrifying. My nurse had been murdered, I had been branded, protected by trees, and spoken to by a wolf and plant life. All within two days time. If I closed my eyes, I could almost pretend it was all a bad dream. But then there were Aigneis’ screams. Those couldn’t be imagined. Nothing that horrible could ever be imagined.

  Aigneis had told me the forest would speak to me one day. I had to trust her even now, even with her gone. Aigneis had known more about magic than I ever would.

  “Why did you call me the One?” I asked the wolf once I had returned to the tree where he stood.

  Oran blinked before dipping his head. He had a white patch near his ear. It stood alone, out of place among the rest of his silver fur. I concentrated on it.

  “You don’t know?” the wolf asked.

  A large limb moved behind me, but I didn’t turn to see what it was doing. I was disconcerted enough as it was.

  “She knows nothing,” the trees said. “And we can’t be sure this girl is she.”

  Oran lifted his leg, scratching himself behind the ear, close enough to the white patch it brought me out of my reverie.

  “Has any other two-leg ever understood you before?” Oran asked.

  The trees grew still.

  “Who do you think I am?” I insisted, my eyes meeting the wolf’s gaze.

  Oran stretched before lumbering into the forest, stopping only long enough to see if I followed. I grabbed my water skin, and patted my pocket where the meat still rested before I plunged into the undergrowth after him.

  “Where are you going?” I called out.

  Oran looked over his shoulder as he walked, the muscles in his back bunching as he moved. His footsteps were silent. He was more graceful than I assumed a wolf would be.

  “To the Ardus,” Oran answered. “The trees told me you have plans of crossing it, which is foolhardy in my opinion.”

  His tone made me bristle.

  “I will die regardless. I would rather die free,” I said.

  Oran stopped moving, the hair on his back standing straight up. “Is that what you think? You think you will die free if you enter the Ardus? Do you not know about the Wyvers, Little Phoenix?”

  I paused just behind the wolf.

  “Wyvers are Medeisian natives. The trees promised me no creatures would harm me.”

  Oran sat, but he didn’t look back at me.

  “Wyvers are poisonous little lizards controlled now by Raemon. The creatures of the forest will not harm you, but the creatures of the sands beyond may not be so kind,” Oran warned.

  I simply stared at Oran’s back. I had only one plan; survive the forest and cross the Ardus. Grief and images dominated my thoughts. Only one thing infiltrated the pain; Kye’s words. Surviving the Ardus meant refuge in Sadeemia. Maybe I was seeking the wrong kind of refuge?

  “Who do you think I am?” I asked Oran softly.

  The wolf did look back at me then, his eyes shining in the dim tree cover. Only the occasional conversation between birds, or the snap of a twig as things moved through the foliage disturbed our exchange.

  “The phoenix,” Oran said finally, his voice lower than before, a growl just beneath his words. “The girl who will save us.”

  I was stunned into silence. The what who would what?

  “I don’t understand,” I whispered.

  The wolf looked away, standing carefully before walking again. I followed.

  “None of us understand it, Phoenix. There is nothing more told about the savior other than the phoenix will be a girl with forbidden magic.”

  I dug in my pocket for the dried meat. I was light headed. I wasn’t sure if it was from the conversation or my lack of consistent meals. Either way, I didn’t think consuming the meat would hurt. I pushed a piece of it into my mouth and chewed thoughtfully. It honestly tasted like dirt.

  The phoenix? In the old language, phoenix meant savior. Protector. It was a word I’d learned in the Archives. It once represented a mythical creature, but was later more popularly used as a description of someone great. I wasn’t great.

  “I have magic, yes. My nurse told me I would inherit it from my mother, but it is not forbidden unless you mean Raemon’s edict. I do not bear the mark of the mage,” I said around the meat in my mouth.

  Oran marched steadily on.

  “Many would view forbidden as a girl who will bear Raemon’s mage mark, but not us. Not the creatures of the forest, the creatures of our Goddess Silveet.” Oran’s steps faltered, but he didn’t stop. “We of the forest have never been understood by humans. It is said a falcon, not unlike the one that follows you, made a pact with our goddess when humans first invaded our world. Man was never to understand us. Our world was to remain our own. We like it that way. Many of the trees are old enough to remember, are old enough to know one thing . . . .”

  Oran’s words trailed off. My heart was beating furiously, the light headedness curbed by the meat, but the numbness traveling over me now wasn’t from hunger. It was unease.

  “And what is that?” I asked.

  Oran glanced swiftly at me and then away.

  “You are the first to ever understand us. Man was never to understand us. It was and is forbidden.”

  Chapter 9

  The wolf was a lot like the trees. He didn’t speak again. He only walked, guiding me carefully through poisonous and thorny brush. He stopped occasionally, leading me to small creeks to refill my water skin or to bushes with berries he insisted were safe to eat. The food was not enough. The walking took too much energy, and I felt weak now after almost three days on foot. But I said nothing. Neither the wolf nor the trees seemed to be great conversationalists, and I didn’t feel the need to fill the silence.

  It was late afternoon, the sun high enough to be hot, but low enough to cast shadows when we reached the edge of the forest. The desert lay beyond. I looked for any glimpse of my home, Forticry, but there was nothing. The trees and the wolf had led me out of the forest far from the manor.

  “The Ardus,” Oran said.

  He sat at the edge of the trees, his black eyes searching the vastness beyond. It seemed strange a desert should start only a few feet from the forest’s edge, from grass to sand with no warning. According to the Archives, the Ardus was an anomaly, the only natural abnormality in the world. This is why it was believed it was not natural, but created instead by magic.

  Shadows moved in the sky above, far enough up that they could be mistaken for birds. I was Medeisian. I knew better. Wyvers.

  Oran’s gaze followed mine.

  “Their senses are extremely keen. They will know you are within their desert, and they will kill you. Wyvers are not known for their hospitality,” Oran said wryly.

  I glanced at him.

  “Are you trying to talk me out of crossing?” I asked.

  The wolf did not meet my gaze. “The first to understand us, you are. Tis a shame you seem so willing to die.”

  The remark made me angry. I’m not sure why. Maybe it was because I was tired of everyone telling me who I was or what I was supposed to be. I had wanted to be a scribe, to hide my magic in the hidden bowels of the Archives until I was old and grey. It wasn’t a great ambition, but it was mine, and it would have kept those I loved safe. Instead, my stepmother had used marriage as a way to fool my father and me.

  I was to fulfill my duty, Taran had said. I think even Aigneis had believed it. I was to wed hastily to keep myself safe. But then in the woods, Taran’s treachery had been
quickly obvious. Aigneis was dead. I needed to get beyond that. I just wasn’t sure I could. It was a hole in my heart I knew would never heal.

  My eyes moved back to the Wyvers. They weren’t especially large creatures. According to the dimensions on a sketch in the Archives, they were about the size of a horse when on the ground. They had serpentine bodies with two legs that ended in eagle-like talons. Their wings were bat-like, and they had a barbed tail that was full of poison. I shivered. I only knew them as shadows seen from my bedroom window in the skies above the desert.

  “There must be some way to trick them, even destroy them,” I said.

  The wolf made a sound eerily similar to a snort. “Even if there were, you couldn’t accomplish it.”

  Now I was as insulted as I was angry. How dare he pretend to know me! I glared at Oran, but he did nothing more than lick himself.

  “And if there were? You have no training. What can you do? You bear the mark of the scribe. I assume that means you can read, maybe? Write? Sketch? But fight?” Oran added.

  I was shaking now, from fear, anger, and maybe even failure. It was enough to make me move away from the wolf, to march toward the desert as if I knew what I was doing. There were sandstone boulders on the edge of the Ardus. I think they may have been part of the Mystic Mountains once, the mountains that sat beyond the Medeisian woods. The forest had no name. They were simply woods that belonged to the king. Everything belonged to the king. I glanced down at my mark, and it strengthened my resolve.

  “And you are our savior.” The wolf said the words sadly, as if he was disappointed before stepping backward and melding into the forest. I glanced over my shoulder, but saw him no more.

  I faced forward again, moving steadily toward the sandstone, my feet instantly hot when it hit the sand. The temperature around me was different now, too. Hotter, dryer. Everything about the Ardus was lonely, despairing. And yet it was beautiful in a barren, depressing kind of way. So stark. Even the sky looked cast off, neglected. It was a dull blue. No clouds.