The Guardians of the Forest: Book One
Page 3
***
Kiethara squinted in the brilliant morning sunlight. She had had such a strange dream. With a groan, she pulled herself up and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. But some small voice in her head told her something was not right. Inside her, some instinct nudged her subtly, pulling her thoughts from there lethargic state, sensing that something was wrong. She had been pulled from the middle of her dream; something must have woken her.
Quickly, she looked around. Her small pile of things lay untouched and the grass of her clearing swayed innocently in a light breeze. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
Then she heard it.
Footsteps: small thuds that were whispering against the grass and leaves of the forest floor. Instantly, she jumped up. She was the only one in the forest. Well, the only one who was supposed to be in the forest. The steps grew slightly louder, but not by much. Someone was trying very hard not to be heard. Her mind started racing as she turned on her heel, desperately trying to find what direction the sound was coming from. It couldn’t be an animal, for animals certainly knew how to be quiet when they wanted to be. The Spirit of Aaron didn’t make any noise except for when he talked. And in her twelve years without a mother, Kiethara had never met or even seen another person.
The footsteps got louder; Kiethara could now tell where they were coming from. Somewhere in front of her. She froze to the spot. In training, Aaron had taught her that she was never supposed to panic: keep your thoughts straight and focused. It was hard to do when every tree that stood before her was a reminder of everything that could fall if she failed.
The trees in front of her rustled slightly. She reached down to the vine wrapped around her and slid one of the bottles out of it. This bottle had a dark purple liquid swirling around inside. Careful not to get any on her skin, she uncorked it.
A figure emerged from the trees.
He was a tall, thin man. His appearance alone told you one thing: dark. He was wearing a deep black cloak that fell to his brown leather boots. No other color would have matched his eyes, which were bottomless pits; not a single emotion could be found in them. Short, shaggy black hair covered his head and his skin was shockingly pale, just like Kiethara’s own complexion. Beneath his cloak a sword was visible on his right hip, attached to a very tattered belt. What really gave her chills was the atmosphere around him.
The air seemed to be tainted by his very presence. It now suddenly smelled of ashes. It made her absolutely certain he had used—and was going to use—a darker version of magic.
“Who are you?” Kiethara asked.
The man gave out a cruel laugh in response to her words. She shuddered as it rang through the forest.
“Do you intend to hurt me? It might not be wise,” he told her. She just stared at him.
“Do you not know who I am?” the man asked with a smirk. “Your story is so well known. Shall I give you a hint? I have done things far beyond your imagination. I have taken down kingdoms. I have even killed one of the guardians of your beloved forest.”
His words gave her the answer that had been lying somewhere inside her. She had known who he was from the moment he had come into view. Only now did it register.
“You….you killed my mother. G-Gandador,” she sputtered, raising her voice. Anger flooded through her. Even though she had just met him, she felt like she had known him so much longer. It hadn’t taken much time for him to convince her to hate him, either.
“Yes, I killed you mother. Anger and fear flicker in your eyes—seems like you haven’t learned how to control your emotions yet. Interesting. I expected you to be a little more trained. Taking down the forest might be too easy,” he commented with another smirk. “I might have fun with this.”
Kiethara clenched her teeth as he evaluated her. He sounded…very informed on what went on in the forest. Maybe a little too informed. It caused another wave of anger; her crystals glowing brighter.
“Leave,” she hissed at him. Instead he laughed.
“I don’t take orders from fifteen year old girls. Now, first I have to deal with you. Decisions, decisions...” he trailed off, looking her over. “Oh, you can put that bottle away. You don’t want anyone to get hurt, do you?”
“On the contrary, I feel like hurting you very much,” she hissed through her teeth.
“I want to hurt you as well,” he told her in a calm voice. It sent ice through her veins. “I need to destroy the forest, you see, and this shall be most amusing, since you intend to put up a fight.”
That was her limit—she lost it. With a roar of fury, she flung the contents of her bottle directly at his face. Gandador didn’t even flinch. Instead, he glared at the potion for a fraction of a second, blinked, and then shot her a smile.
As he was smiling at her the potion burst into flames inches before his face.
Kiethara backed away from him, her mouth hanging open, thoughts racing inside her head. How in the world did he do that? She had never seen magic performed like that. If that was just a small taste of what he could do to her, the forest was doomed. Her magic wasn’t nearly as powerful.
“That was poison, was it not? I must admit, you have excellent aim,” he complimented her with a small chuckle. “I believe you now see that I am much more powerful then you are.
“I have made my decision. I think I should capture you and let you watch your precious forest burn down. Then…”
Kiethara stopped listening. He had made his decision and now she had made hers. She didn’t need to listen to him as he described her own death. So with that, she sprinted away from Gandador.
“Stop!” he cried as she dove behind the tree.
Only a moment later did the tree burst into flames and she was thrown back onto her stomach. She turned her head around to find herself looking straight into the face of a huge flame, watching with horror as it slowly began to lick up the tree. With a small yelp, Kiethara jumped up and put her arms out.
Out of nowhere a chilly wind started howling, one that whipped around the tree in a circle, surrounding the flames and pushing them back. To her relief, the fire began to subside, until all that remained was the burnt bark, a scar from Gandador’s vicious flames. As she stared at the marks with a hurt expression something grabbed her arm and spun her around.
“Very good, you work fast,” he said.
Kiethara wrenched herself from his grip and sped off into the trees again. But before she could get very far, a sharp pain overtook her, sending her to the floor with a gasp. Her forearms felt like they were burning.
She looked down. Two orange rings of fire held them together, burning her every time she tried to pry them apart.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Gandador making his way towards her, walking slowly, as though he was enjoying a nice walk and fresh air. For some reason, that seemed to make him more menacing. She rolled over, desperately trying to pick herself up out of the grass, stumbling as she watched Gandador draw closer. Why, oh why, couldn’t she keep from panicking? The emotion was making her clumsy.
“It’s pointless, you know,” Gandador told her as he got dangerously close. “Running is just as pointless as hiding is. You can’t do either forever.”
Gandador squatted down beside her. She turned her head away, but he took her chin between his rough fingers and forced her to look up at him.
“Oh, and such a pretty face,” he said, clicking his tongue sympathetically. Kiethara looked up at him in disgust. Without thinking twice about it, she spat in his face.
He roared with anger and leapt away from her, the rings around her wrists disappearing. With one small glance at Gandador, she took off into the forest.
As soon as she had weaved through a few trees she launched herself into the air, the trees in a blur as she pushed herself to an incredible velocity. Branches cut at her exposed her arms and legs, but that didn’t slow her down. It only helped to remind her of the pain that lay behind her, a thought that pushed her even further ahead. Her
heart beat wildly in her chest.
Spitting in his face? That was all she could come up with? She felt like a fool. She was a guardian and she couldn’t even remember that she had an amazing magical ability when she needed it most? How pathetic.
A voice rang through the forest. It caused her to freeze, hovering in fear as she listened to the words in dread.
“That was not a wise move, not at all. The forest won’t die completely with you still alive. So come, and come to fight,” the voice suggested.
The words seemed to echo in the forest for some time, reverberating off every leaf. She hovered, torn between the options she was faced with. Fear kept her from going back, but anger called her towards him. She wanted nothing more than to avenge her mother, to destroy the man that had caused so many tribulations for the forest, but logic told her she had very slim chances of doing so.
“Don’t you want this back?” a much closer voice asked.
Kiethara spun around in the air, only to see her mother’s killer below her.
With her mother’s locket.
“Give it back!” she screeched at him, raising her arms. That was the last place she wanted the locket to be.
“Why don’t you come back down and we can talk?” he suggested calmly. Her threatening arms didn’t seem to faze him.
She saw no alternative—she wanted the locket badly. It was the only piece of her mother she had left, a small token that gave her hope and, above all, it was her most valuable possession. With a scowl at Gandador, she slowly lowered herself until her feet touched the ground, making sure to keep her arms raised.
“Good, good,” he murmured, looking her over with his dark eyes again.
“I’m not giving myself up for the locket,” she told him. “What good will it be if I’m dead?”
“Wise,” he chuckled. “Why don’t you lower your arms and I will toss you the locket?”
Kiethara complied, letting them fall to her sides without taking her eyes off Gandador. He nodded and tossed her the locket, which she caught reflexively. Not wanting this to happen again, she put it around her neck for safe keeping.
In one sudden movement that she almost missed, his hands twitched up.
Kiethara threw her hands up, but she knew it was no use. There was nothing she could do if Gandador decided to make her burst into flames. She had too little power, too little technique, to compete with the level of Gandador’s magic. It had been a battle lost before it had started from the beginning. She closed her eyes, knowing either pain or death was soon to come and unable to face either with a heroic manifestation. Fear bubbled in her chest and threatened to expose her for the weak guardian she was.
Seconds seemed like hours while she became almost numb to her surroundings. Her heart pounded in her chest…
A sharp intake of breath caused her eyes to snap open. She did not see what she expected.
She was surrounded by a golden sphere, glittering slightly in the sunlight. Magic—clean, pure magic—seemed to radiate from it. Kiethara’s navy blue eyes widened as she twisted her head to take it all in.
“Ah, so you conjured up a shield. For the first time, too, judging by your expression. You lucky, lucky girl,” he said, but his tone was full of bitterness. They glared at each other, Kiethara not daring take down her shield. Well, not like she knew how it was there in the first place, but still.
“You’ll get tired eventually. I, of course, could easily rip through it, but I think it would be more amusing to watch you struggle,” he said. She couldn’t tell if it was a lie or not.
Lie or no lie, he was right all the same. How long could she hold onto it? She didn’t even know what she was holding on too. Eventually she would get tired, or starve, or her shield just might disappear as suddenly as it had come. She was standing here and waiting for certain death…but then an idea came to mind.
Who was the one who had saved her life in the first place? Who was the one who had raised her when she was little? Who was the one who showed her the powers that she had been blessed with?
“AARON!” she cried.
In the next second, it felt like she was in a tornado. What little of the sky she could see through the gaps in the trees turned a gray so dark it was almost black, the winds tossing the trees back and forth, though it did not reach her inside the golden sphere. She squinted through the golden tint to see Gandador, who was frozen to the spot. His cloak rippled out around him and his hands were up in front of his face.
A bright light suddenly blinded them both.
Kiethara didn’t have to turn and look to know it was Aaron; she had grown up with his brilliant light. Gandador, though, seemed to find the light very alarming. With a swirl of his cloak, he disappeared.
As soon as he vanished the winds died down instantly, the branches surrounding her relenting from their contorted positions. Kiethara, assuming it was over, lowered her exhausted arms. As soon as she did, the golden sphere disappeared from around her. The lights around her dimmed slightly as she watched a figure walking towards her, a figure made entirely out of light, with no features on his face or any other part of his body that could be seen. The figure resembled nothing but that of a man, and that figure was the Spirit of Aaron.
“Thanks,” she told him in a breathless voice.
“You have been brave, Kiethara,” he said in a deep, calming tone. “Let us walk.”
They walked for a minute in silence, nothing to be heard except for the sound of animals. After a few moments, Aaron broke the silence.
“I see you have conjured up a shield.”
She nodded, but said nothing. She was still pondering over what had just happened, her mind spinning as she tried to comprehend everything that had taken place in that short amount of time. A new power of hers had just been discovered, Gandador had left, and she had endured. She should be ecstatic. Instead, she didn’t feel anything; no overwhelming feeling was threatening to take control. The best way to describe it would be… confused. Again, Aaron broke the silence.
“So, you have finally met Gandador.”
“Yes, and I hated him from the moment I saw him,” she replied bluntly.
“And I believe you saw how powerful he is? You saw how he uses his power, too? At your age and with the amount of magic you know, it is near impossible to beat him alone,” Aaron warned. “But I have a point—in the future, you will be that powerful. You will be able to do everything he does and more. Do not think yourself weak, Kiethara.”
“Then we have a whole lot of training to do if I need to get that good,” she mumbled.
“Yes, in the future there will be some hard work; however, I think it will be easier than you figure,” Aaron said.
“Why?”
“Well, why do you think that you were able to produce a shield without any instruction or practice?” he asked.
At first, Kiethara didn’t have any answer. How was she supposed to know how she did it? She was still wondering how she survived. She felt like she was in a dream; could things really change so fast, go from ordinary to overwhelming in a few hours? She thought for a moment before something struck her.
“That was the moment I needed it most. My power acted for me, to protect me,” she said.
“Exactly. Your emotions are linked to your magic. Have you ever noticed that when you’re frustrated, the crystals in your bracelets glow brighter?” he asked.
“Yes, I’ve noticed. They did that when I was talking to Gandador.” She had definitely not been in the most pleasant of moods.
“The harder they glow, the more magic you are calling forward at the time. This means that the brighter they glow, the closer you are approaching your most powerful state. Also, a more dangerous state.”
“Hold on…” Kiethara said slowly. “My most powerful and dangerous state? What sense does that make? I’m supposed to get angry at everything that poses a threat to defeat them, but at the same time I shouldn’t because it’s dangerous?”
“Very rarely does a strong emotion cause a surge of magic. It must be a new, fresh emotion you are experiencing. Sometimes, if too much magic is stored, or if you are feeling a very powerful emotion, it is released in a quick and powerful burst. This can help you a great deal, but it can also harm you a great deal, in more ways than one. When you are in this state, you lose control of your magic as well as yourself. You could harm someone you don’t wish to harm.
“Also, in this state you release some of your emotions and the people who survive that burst could use that against you. Listen to me: never try to make this happen. Control your emotions, for it will help you a great deal if you do. Your best state is when you are calm and able to make rational decisions. You have so much power, Kiethara, and soon you will be able to utilize this potential to amazing extents,” Aaron finished off.
“Does this mean I had a magical burst today and created a shield? That’s not powerful,” she noted, disappointed.
“That was not a magical burst; you simply let your emotions get the best of you. Sometimes, when you don’t have adequate control over your emotions, you manipulate your magic in a different way by mistake. This is dangerous because you don’t how you will use it. It’s unpredictable. That’s why I need you to practice controlling your emotional state.”
“More practicing?” she asked glumly. It had just dawned on her how tired she felt now.
“Yes, life as a guardian is not an easy one. It will be months upon months before your training will be complete, and truthfully, your training never really ends. You can’t learn every talent your powers have to offer because you can’t feel every emotion requisite; you can’t use the maneuvers someone else has discovered because you can never feel the exact same way as they do. It might seem like a lot now, but after you have rested and thought about our conversation, I think it might not seem as hard,” Aaron said.
They had reached her hammock now. A quick glance told her that her pile besides it was gone and Kiethara panicked for a second, spinning in the air. A closer look told her that her few possessions were only scattered about and had been tossed unceremoniously around the clearing during Gandador’s obtrusive visit.
“Have a good day. Also, don’t worry about Gandador. He won’t return today,” Aaron said in a calming voice.
“How do you know?” she asked.
“Well, I’m sure the fight between you and him hasn’t tired him much, but he’ll plan his next move, and carefully. He seriously underestimated you today, and I don’t think he will be foolish enough to make the same mistake twice.”
“What mistake did he make?”
“He came into the forest without a plan, figuring a fifteen-year-old girl would be simple to handle. We both saw how very wrong he was,” Aaron said with a small chuckle.
“Well, I’m not really a threat. Maybe he just has bad luck,” she noted. Aaron chuckled again.
“Ah, so modest. It wasn’t luck that made today turn out this way, it was quick thinking on your part that helped you a great deal.”
“Quick thinking?” Kiethara repeated with a roll of her eyes. “I got frightened like a small animal and produced amazing magic.”
If there was one thing she was, it was independent. Having living almost all her life alone, she was used to doing things herself. Being treated like a child was not something she enjoyed and Aaron didn’t have to give her a few false compliments to make her feel better. She wasn’t being modest. She was telling the truth, and he was just feeling sorry for her. She did not stand to be pitied—Aaron knew that.
“This was a tough day, Kiethara. You protected the forest from a great threat. You had no warning, no preparation. I consider that very good,” he told her. She felt only slightly better.
“I must leave you now. No doubt you wish to rest,” Aaron said. She nodded, watching him disappear as he walked into the surrounding trees.
She sighed, dragging her beat body to her hammock, thoughts spinning around in her head like angry bees. Images from this morning kept replaying in her head. Gandador’s face was most clear, so vivid that she cringed back from it. Finally, she reached her hammock and threw herself into it.
She groaned with the responding soreness. Her forearms were red and slightly bloody, her exposed skin was scratched up. And, as if to top it off, she had a headache.
Kiethara put her hand up towards one of the two trees supporting her hammock. It was like watching the tree grow in fast forward; one of the branches thickened and the leaves turned a darker shade of green just as a plump apple appeared above her head.
Kiethara smiled at the ripe fruit. The apple had always been her favorite. She stretched up and picked it, pausing for a moment before sinking her teeth into the bright red skin. Although the sweet juice gushed out of the fruit and dribbled down her chin, the apple tasted bitter. She turned it over in her hand, staring blankly across her clearing. All these years, the forest had been peaceful and quiet, but now it seemed the peace had been smashed, brutally demolished by a man who had only been a frightful nightmare just the day before. She could be attacked at any time, even when she was asleep. The thought made fear twist uneasily in her stomach. She looked around, but all was still. There was only one of her—how in the world was she going to be able to do this? Aaron had told her that Gandador had followers, people who were just as twisted as he was and had the same motive.
Kiethara bit into her apple again and chewed it slowly. What if the forest did fall? What would the world be like? All these questions buzzed around in her head, but none of them were being answered.
She finished her apple, taking out the seeds and tossing them and the core as far as she could. Not only was she tired and hurt, she was also frustrated. Why was it her responsibility to protect the forest? Boiling anger built up inside her, as well as a swell of self-pity.
She shook her head. No, she couldn’t feel like this. Self-pity got you nowhere.
It was all too much to take in, especially in one day. Her crystals were shining brightly, but Aaron’s words came into mind, leading her to take a deep, steady breath while she watched them dim with satisfaction.
She tried to think positive. Aaron was able to defeat Gandador, wasn’t he? He could teach her how to defend herself. Still, dark thoughts kept creeping back into her mind as a beast did to his burrow—it would take her years to learn and master all of it. Gandador would certainly kill her by then.
“Stop that,” she told herself fiercely. “Aaron won’t let that happen.”
Finally, Kiethara fell into a very troubled sleep.