Bliath:
Shattered
by
Theresa Caligiuri
The right of Theresa Caligiuri to be identified as author of this Work has been asserted by her in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the author. Copyright © 2014 by Theresa. N. Caligiuri
*Note from the author: I know the editing is not perfect but in that respect that makes Bliath a lot like me, and Fera and Oren and Vance, for we are all but works in progress.! Thank you*
TO:
The people in my world that read this, helped me fix the boo boos, and put up with saying things like “are you sure this sounds ok or reads right”…..Joel…..Nicole…..Hollie…thank you so much for helping my dreams become real!
Also anyone one who reads this, I can’t even begin to thank you for stepping into the world of Bliath, I hope you love it as much as I do.
My three beautiful, smart, wonderful, little monsters, this is also for you as a reminder to follow your dreams no matter what size or how silly they seem.
Hi Dad *waves*
I love you too Mom!
Chapter 1
The sorrow of a thousand life times rushed over her as she stood numb from the rush of the day. Her life forever altered, on a path to find who she is, and what she is meant to be. Her father’s voice ringing in her ears, “Run Fera! Run and don’t look back!” There was more to it than that, things had been uneasy for a while. Fera had no clue why everything felt fragile. Until that morning when her world came crashing down. Fera didn’t have time to think, she could only afford to run. Everything would all be in vein if she were to get caught. Those who scarified everything for her existence would be lost to a vindicated cause without justifiable reason.
As sweat beaded down her fair skin, with exhaustion overtaking her, she could not hear anyone in pursuit, but that would be a matter of time. Her most beloved friend, Oren, her horse, was just as tired and well lathered; they had to rest. Sitting down by the stream, finally foregoing the urgency to run, her thoughts trail back to her father, the mighty King of Thoren, the noble, kind , brave soul, with fear in his eyes, the urgency in his voice, begging her to understand. How could she understand? She was the key in the war; her mother gave her life to keep her, and their people, safe. Tears hit the water like rain falling from her eyes, Fera’s very soul felt like it was about to shake from her body. A comforting head rested on her shoulder. Her hand went up and she cradled Oren to her. Whispering to him, “How could he Oren... how could my father keep everything from me? How could my mom just give up her life like that? I am alone…. is my father dead now too? How far North do we have to go, how far can I really go?”
Oren gives her a hard nudge. Fera has always had a empathic link to animals, unlike her father who could have full conversations with them, she could only get general feelings once in a while simple words. It was different with Oren. While she couldn’t read him to the extent of her father, they had an understanding of each other beyond words. He was the first and only gift from her late mother’s mother; her grandmother. At first her father wanted to send him back, but she loved him from the moment she saw him. Fera rubbed her hand along the sleek curve of his white face, “Yes, I know I will never be alone as long as I have you. You need to rest too; I don’t know how long we will have until we can stop again.” He listened to her and began to drink from the cool stream.
Fera’s thoughts trailed back to a week before. She closed her eyes and focused on the memories, letting them flow back to her like a dream.
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“Get up Fera, I swear this was not part of my job description, when I signed on to be your teacher, waking the princess was not listed.”
She rolled over in her bed, pushing her tangled mess of wavy dark hair out of her face so she could properly scowl at her tutor Markus. His face seemed firm in the disapproval of her being in bed and it being a few hours past sun up, but the twinkle in his gray eyes said otherwise.
She stuck her tongue out at him, “Well Markus, you didn’t have to wake me.”
He crossed his arms and raised an eye brow at her, “Now Princess, what kind of Queen will you be if you sleep all hours, get up, get washed, and dressed, and I will be waiting for you in the library.”
As he turned to leave, Fera asked, “I am almost 18 , when will the lessons stop?”
Markus stopped, without looking back and replied, “When you run out of things to learn my dear Princess, but today we will start to learn about something that affects you most of all….it is almost time after all.” With that he walked out of the room.
Fera rolled her eyes again; went to her bathroom, slipped into the shower, she should have showered when she snuck back in her room after a midnight ride on Oren. Looking in the mirror, she could see the dark lines from the lack of sleep under her eyes, on her creamy white complexion. Her honey colored eyes stared back at her, raking over her wild mess of wet hair. She quickly braided the mess down the back. Throwing on a pair of riding pants, and a sleeveless top, Markus will scuff at, because she is a princess and should dress like one. She thought dresses to be overrated and impractical. Heading down to the library, the thoughts of Markus’ cryptic remark “It’s almost time”, loomed in her head.
“Ah princess Fera, how great of you to grace me with your presence.” Fera smiling coolly at Markus’ sarcastic remark.
“You are most welcome, after all the Princess is never late, but the rest are merely early.” Fera retorted.
Markus rolled his eyes, going over to a small box on a self, taking a key out of his pocket, he opened the box and removed a book.
Fera giggled, “Oh, Markus, keeping a book under lock and key, does it bite?”
He said nothing but handed her the book, it would not seem possible for Fera’s complexion to get paler but in the moment it had, her joking and jest was set aside. Her fingers traced the faded lettering on the cover, “The Great War: A History Of.” This was the reason, why her village was hidden away in the Great Valley, shrouded by a magic cloak that her mother placed upon them. Why countless friends of her parents died, why she couldn’t meet her grandparents. Why her father worried one day he might lose her, but no one ever talked to her about it. No one would answer questions. She now held some of the answers in her hands, and the questions seemed to shrink back in fear.
Markus could see the worry written on Fera’s face, “Before you open that Princess, first tell me, what your remember about each of the races that inhabit, Bliath?”
Confusion graced the fine features on her face. She knew Markus never did or said anything without reason. Apprehension rattled in her voice, but had Markus made sure it was etched into her memory. ”There are humans, who are the most common, still considered infants to the land of Bliath, not reclusive, and are willing to dwell with the other races. Some have magic but it tends to limited to healing and minor casting. The dwarves, who tend to kept to the Mountain ranges in the North East, and South Western parts of Bliath, Each Mountain range is ruled by a different King, but the Kings are brother’s, and tend to be a peaceful bunch unless you rattle their cage. Then they are unforgiving, grudge holding, and warmongering. They also live a very long time. The North Eastern King about 100 years ago took a human for a wife, she was a queen, the Queen of Thoran in fact, thus creating my father. She lived a human life span, and after that he took a dwarven wife. They have two sons. The magic they tend to have
is, healing, animal empathic ability, and skills that aide them in mining” Fera took a breath and made quotes with her fingers, “such as, night sight, mineral and metal detection and bending, and cold resistance. Other skills can pop up over time, but are rare.” She pauses and lets out a sigh, Markus nods at her to keep going, she starts again, slightly robotically proving it has been drilled into her. “The elves, by far the most complex race and longest living their lives can span over 1000s of years and are thought to be immortal. They are said to be the first inhabitants of Bliath, but the dwarves argue that passionately. The elves are a monarchy with a very strict caste system. At the top of their caste system, you have the High Elves, their Queen is of course at the top of the High rank, and rules all elves, not just the high elves. The death of the king Ilsar, her husband, somehow played into the start of the war. The High elves hold all the power and the most skilled in magic. Such as high caliber healers, telekinesis, orbing, astral projecting, seers, casters, and the coveted energy harnessing, that allows you to manipulate and change anything that holds energy. Essentially with that power and the right wording you are unstoppable, but it is dangerous, and so far only members of the royal family have that skill. If you are born to a lower caste and you show talent beyond your cast, you are removed from your family and placed in the Elven rank where you’re skills fit. It works the same if you are skill-less or weaker, you are sent to a lower caste. After the High Elves, there are the Power Elves, most non-magical solders are in this rank they have insane tactical skills and are stronger then they look, the magic holding ones possess some kind of stealth magic and shape shifting. Then there are the Wood Elves or also known as Common Elves, they tend to possess little magic, no real strength, they tend to farm, and by farm I mean garden, most elves are vegetarians, unless it is absolute necessary to eat meat. Also their skin tends to be more of an olive color than the paler of the other two castes. That about sums it up, I mean there are thought to be spirit elementals that are all magical, that take the form of humans once in a blue moon, to find love, and if they do, they keep their human form and magic. No one can neither confirm nor deny this. There also is a handful of other creatures, dragons, fairies, and so on, all thought to be hunted into near extinction if real. ”
“Very good Fera, and you know you are at least 1/4 dwarf, and 1/4 human, has anyone told you what your mother was?” Markus praising tone turned apprehensive.
“Yes, she is or um was elven. I am not sure what caste she fell in, since whenever I ask about her everyone acts like I just asked if could set a bag of kittens on fire.” Fera thought a moment before speaking again. ”She looked almost ethereal in the pictures I have seen, but you know, no one talks about her.”
“That is right, your father doesn’t like to talk about her, and out of respect for him the staff do not either. As for me, I was asked not to, to keep you…well that doesn’t matter and we are getting off subject. Your mother was his great love. He said her soul could hear his, and vice versa. I feel ok telling you where you came from now, though I wish he had, you will learn sometimes these things can’t be helped. Your mother was High Elven.” He paused to let the shock of this set in. Confusion set in on her face, Markus continued, “You are made up of the highest ranks of the three main races that live in Bliath, the Great War has touched all of them in some shape or form. In return it has a greater effect on you.”
Fera nodded, not fully processing, but the sad look in Markus’ eyes said there was more to come.
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Fera snapped out of her trance, and looked back down into the tranquil stream.
Oren nudged her again and softly nickered, telling her it is time to go again.
A deep sigh escaped Fera as she climbed up on Oren, he returned it with one of his own, to let her know that he felt her pain.
Chapter 2
Hours had past Fera’s legs were sore from riding well through the day and into the first part of dusk. Her stomach grumbled in protest along with the rest for her. Oren stopped, knowing she had enough for now, he had too. Although Fera wasn’t heavy, the King and Markus packed three bags and tied them to the saddle. Given the extra weight and, like Fera, he had not eaten, only stopping for water once, and he was done.
Fera leaned down, resting her head on Oren’s neck, along his sleek mane. She ran her hand up his neck causing him to shiver. He loved that sensation; he could feel her love emanating in her touch.
“Ok I get it, we need to stop, I have no clue where we are at, when the stars come out, I think I can figure out where we are. Markus would have a field day, I could see him now telling me, see Princess, I told you this is practical.” Fera half laughed it out, before she realized it, tears fell on Oren, they sparkled against his coat. “Oren, I would give anything to hear, I told you so.” She slid off him, her legs buckled when she hit the ground. Pain coursed through her; she opened her eyes to find Oren face to face with her. He was wide eyed and ears were up in alarm.
“It’s ok, I am ok, we might have over done the ride today.” She managed to get the words out.
He dipped his head lower letting Fera use his neck to help up.
“Awe Oren, always the gentlemen, uh gentlehorse. Let’s see if they packed us food.” Fera smiled, as she clung to his neck.
Fera slowly relinquished her hold on Oren, going through the first pack, to find two books, a map of Bliath, and map of the constellations, and a small bag of coins.
“Well no luck in bag one.” She shook her head.
Oren used all his focus and thought, “three” projecting it as loud as he could into her mind.
“Oh three, Oren, I get it, well you could have said that from the get go.” She laughed.
Fera went around him, opened the third bag, to find several small bundles, not caring what was in it, she grabbed the top bundle. She opened it to find four sticky rolls, a faint smile graced her lips. Even in her hasty departure, the castle cooks managed to let her know they loved her. Oren nickered at her, she knew they are one of his favorites too. She took one in her hand and fed it to him, promptly followed by another. Fera quickly ate the third, looking at the forth, she knew 50/50 would be fair, but Oren did most of the work, she just had to hang on.
He refused the last one, he knew she was still hungry, he thought “YOU”.
As much as Fera wanted the stupid roll, she knew Oren would have to carry her through this, in all senses of carry she through. “No, you! You are like 9 times my size and doing most of the work, plus you are the oddest horse in the world, since you refuse to eat grass, hay, and oats. Well, I guess you will eat oats if they are covered in sweet stuff.” She rambled out.
He ate it, but felt guilty. Oren wrapped his neck around her.
She wrapped her arms back around him. Softly whispering to Oren “I love you.”
At that he pulled her closer.
Night was upon them, Fera didn’t want to make a fire out of fear of it being spotted. She took the tack off of Oren, unfolded the saddle blanket, then she looked for a spot to lay down. Oren beat her to it, and without missing a beat, she covered him up, and then ducked under the blanket herself, leaning against him. With him she always felt safe and sound, giving into the calmness he brought her, Fera closed her eyes.
Sleep came easy, but the dreams came in a hard rush of pain. It seemed her memories were not done torturing her. They picked up where she had left them earlier.
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Markus opened the cover of the book, and on the inside was a detailed map of Bliath. The butterflies flew mad with a mix of emotions in Fera’s stomach. She read “Chapter One: The Prophecy”
Markus’s hand appeared, he turned several of the pages, “Sometimes Fera, you have to read ahead, before you can understand the beginning.”
She looked down at Chapter 3 “The rise of the High Queen.” She begun to read:
&n
bsp; Over 1550 years ago, the now High Elven Queen Estreal, who was just over 300 years old, and seated under her father as The Crowed Princess, though she was 300, she did not look a day over 18. She was the most powerful energy harnesser the elves have ever seen. Her father was of an unknown age, and her mother was said to have died at the hands of an Elemental. Leaving a bitterness between the two races. Estreal was to take a mate in the next few moon cycles, since elves live long lives, they do not believe in the human tradition of marriage; they set up partnerships almost like affectionate business deals. So if the tides of life change their heart, they can go on their ways, without much recourse. Once in a blue moon, an elven couple will bind themselves to each other; it is the most powerful bond two creatures can share. They become one in almost every way. Their heart beats as one. (To read more on Elven marriage and binding see the “Tome of Elven Rites and Rituals”.)
Estreal, was presented with all of the most powerful High Elves, none caught her eye, she knew that she was expected to choose one. Although, no one truly knows how she met the Power Elf, some speculate, it was when he left a meeting with her father at a security briefing but regardless, they meet. It was highly frowned upon to be with someone out of your cast, and was not allowed for her being of noble birth to choose someone out of her cast. As much as he didn’t want to choose her either it couldn’t be helped, bonding works like a magnet. A simple meeting can set the gears in motion. Since she refused to pick a High Elf, Estreal’s father picked for her. On the night before the partnership arrangements to be set forth, Estreal slipped out, and went to the great tree to ask for guidance and help, as did the Power Elf. When they saw each other, the pull pushed them together. By the next morning the kingdom was in an uproar, the princess was not in her room, and her bed had not been slept in. Everyone was searching for her, when they found her; she was wrapped in the arms of the Power, both fast asleep at the foot of the tree. The King outraged woke them, shouting for the Powers head. To the shock of the king, and the kingdom, the Power bore the Princesses mark of magic on his right wrist. The sacred tree had heard them, and answered, by completing the binding, the tree made the Power one with Estreal, giving him the rank of High Elven as well as the Princess' magical gifts, except energy harnessing. He gave her his strength, insight, unparalleled tactical skills. With both skill sets, a dangerous combination was born in Estreal. Estreal, looked upon the greatest gift she was ever given not knowing what to call him. He leaned forward whispering in her ear “Ilsar, my love, my name is Ilsar.”
Bliath: Shattered Page 1
