The Guardians of the Forest: Book One

by Kelly Napoli

CHAPTER 16

  DURGA

  Kiethara was strolling through her mother’s beautiful meadow. It looked lovely in the morning sunlight—there was a slight calm, chilly breeze, but it was nothing compared to the vicious winds of the other day. A few petals blew around her, her hair twitching as though it longed to join them. The thought made her lips twitch at the corners.

  Despite her not so pleasant morning, she felt rather calm. The relief at being able to finally relax eased the tensions inside her body.

  Of course, she still had a few small things to do. There was a small patch of the forest she hadn’t healed yet and she really needed to replace the two potions she had used.

  So she picked the more vital of the two. Her vine belt hung loose around her hips, bottles clinking with every step. She could have journeyed to the closest lake, but she had a desire to explore out a little more. The sketchy image of a rushing river filled the forefront of her mind, but she couldn’t grasp the details of it too well, mostly due to the fact that she had been focused on something much greater than the scenery when Sinsenta had been chasing her down to kill her. She didn’t have a clear idea of where she had been, only a clear memory of how she had escaped.

  As she wandered, her thoughts drifted. She remembered the first time Aaron had instructed her how to make them…

  Ten year old Kiethara sat crossed legged on the shore of a lake, her chin in her hand and four empty bottles lying in the grass in front of her. She sighed.

  “I suppose you don’t have the answer,” Aaron said.

  “Riddles aren’t my strong point,” she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

  “It’s not exactly a riddle, Kiethara. I gave you some bottles. Now, you have water and your magic. What can you make?”

  “Colorful water,” she answered with a shrug.

  “You can make a potion, Kiethara,” he said.

  “Well, how was I supposed to know that?” she demanded.

  “I’ve mentioned potions before,” he pointed out.

  “All right, all right,” she said. “How do I make one?”

  “It’s simpler than you would think. There are many different types you can make, but I think we should start with the most vital.”

  “And what would that be?” she asked.

  “Well, I suppose it’s a matter of opinion,” Aaron mused. “What do you think is more important, a good offense or a good defense?”

  “If I have an outstanding offense I don’t need a defense and if I have an outstanding defense, I no longer require an offense,” she told him.

  “Now who’s talking in riddles, eh?” Aaron asked, shaking his head. She could sense his smile, though. “Choose one.”

  “I would rather have a good defense,” she decided after a minute.

  “All right. If it’s a defense you want, it’s a defense you shall get,” Aaron told her. He walked towards her and squatted down beside her.

  “Now, as far as a defense goes, there is truly only one superior defense.”

  “What?” she asked eagerly.

  “The ability to heal a wound in an instant. Very, very reliable. I must warn you, however, it isn’t very simple. The concepts behind brewing a potion is not one people easily comprehend. For example, right now if you tried to imagine magic knitting your flesh back together, would you understand how it works, or more importantly, why? No, you would not, but knowing the particular science behind it is not what makes you powerful in the first place and it’s not what makes magic powerful. The motive behind the motion is what powers you both.”

  Kiethara nodded.

  “Do you think you can handle this?”

  “No, no, I’m up for the challenge!” she said impatiently.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes!”

  Aaron chuckled. Kiethara no longer had her head in her hand. She sat upright and alert, every muscle posed to receive the instructions she knew would come from him. She knew that she could make this potion. Training with the earth element had gone so smoothly…

  “Very well then. First, fill the bottle halfway with water,” he told her.

  She did just that, taking the cool water directly from the lake next to her. She kneeled on the bank and ran the glass vial through the glass-like surface, making sure to get nothing else inside it. The crystal clear water swirled inside its hold rather gracefully, like a waterfall was trapped inside.

  “Now what?”

  “This is the complicated part,” Aaron warned. “You’re going to have to grow something, but it’s not something you’ve ever seen or heard of before.”

  “How am I supposed to do that?” she asked, puzzled.

  “By focusing on what I’m about to describe to you,” Aaron told her. “I need you to imagine a flower. Picture in your head the form of a daisy, with long, luscious petals. This flower grows directly from the ground, with a stem of emerald green. From this stem branch three dark leaves. The petals are exceptionally vivid, a silver that shines like silk, with a texture of the same consistency. Where the petals meet, there is a ring of white that is as soft as snow. This specimen is as light as air and has the fragrance of a dozen roses. It appeals to every sense.

  “Can you see it, Kiethara?”

  She could. Aaron’s words rang in her head, forming a dazzling image. The picture budded in her mind; budding into a beautiful work of nature…She smiled.

  “Grow it, now,” Aaron ordered.

  With her navy blue eyes focused on a patch of green, she let the image in her mind overtake her senses before letting them overtake her magic. Her crystals glowed brightly.

  A flower blossomed.

  “Very good, Kiethara,” Aaron said in a rather awed voice. The surprise that she had succeeded was almost insulting.

  The flower before her exceeded anything she had ever seen in beauty. Tentatively, she reached out a finger to stroke one of the silver petals.

  It was like stroking water.

  Amazed, Kiethara ran her finger down the length of the brilliantly green stem. It was a very strong stem, not pliable in the slightest to her touch.

  It was like caressing the smooth stone of the lake.

  Slowly, she moved the tip of her finger to the pure white center of the flower. It shimmered in the light brightly, as though it were made of diamonds.

  It was like clinching snow on a cold winter’s day.

  The flower was enthralling.

  “Now, you need to pick it,” Aaron said, his sudden command making her jump.

  She moved her hand to the bottom of the stem and grasped it. Although she hated to do it, she gave the flower a small tug. Surprisingly, it came up easy, with roots that looked very thin and normal compared to what she had been expecting.

  “Well done. Now, pluck those five petals gently, please.”

  She did as he commanded. As soon as her two fingers grasped the petal tightly, it came off. It scared her how delicate this flower was turning out to be; she was afraid another movement would shatter the thing more thoroughly than smashing hardened clay against a rock. She, ever so gently, laid the petals in one pile and the remains of the beauty in another.

  “Rip each petal into the tiniest shreds you can and then sprinkle them into the water you have in the bottle.”

  Again, it was beyond simple to rip the petals up. She put them in the water, her eyes widening as she witnessed them come in contact. It was as though the petals were ripples themselves.

  “Now, remove that small, white center from the stem and do the same.”

  As soon as the cool, snowy material touched the water it broke apart, staining the water white. The small pieces drifted along with the silver, truly creating an image of what she imagined as gray clouds and drifts of snow.

  “The last step is to stir it with the stem,” Aaron concluded.

  The stem blended everything together. The water got thicker while the grey became darker, the white disappearing altogether. Yet the liquid shimmered continuously. It
was enchanting.

  “Stirring the potion with the air, too, certainly helps,” he suggested. “Just focus on making the remaining air in the bottle move just as you would normally.” She tried it, and the color lightened to a pearl grey.

  “And…there you have it.”

  “That’s it?” she asked, astounded.

  “Yes.”

  “But,” she protested. “I thought you said it was complicated!”

  “I said it wasn’t simple. I’m happy it didn’t seem to be much of a challenge for you—I’ve never seen a guardian make their first potion so fast. How you grew that flower so fast was truly amazing. Some guardians took days to get that step right,” Aaron said, and then he chuckled. “I think you’ve found your calling, Kiethara.”

  “Huh. This was more straightforward than training.”

  “Well, each guardian is different, I suppose.”

  Ten year old Kiethara nodded, gazing at her silver concoction…

  Fifteen year old Kiethara drifted back into reality. She was no longer in her mother’s meadow; instead, she was surrounded by a different set of trees than she was inured to seeing. These trees were younger than those in the center of the forest, but what drew her to this area were two very distinct factors: humid air and lush vegetation. Two clear signs that water was nearby.

  The more she walked, the more her assumptions were proved correct. A soft thunder of rushing water reached her ears, becoming louder with each step she took. She smiled and picked up her pace until, finally, a river came into view.

  It was rather wide, with light blue water rushing between the two banks. The river did not look deep at all, for she could clearly see the scattered rocks and multicolored pebbles that littered the river’s bottom. She caught these details quickly, though, and forgot them in the next instant, for she was no longer alone.

  Someone—a woman—was kneeling over the surface of the water. Judging by what Kiethara could see of her, she was a heavy set woman. A light blue, ragged dress fit her plump frame, coming to a rather muddy end near her ankles, where it met traveling boots covered in the same substance. Her white hair was pulled into a sloppy bun, although many strands had already escaped and hung loose.

  The clinch of bottles could be heard from where she was squatted and bare stems were littered on the ground around her. It took her a second to realize what the woman was doing: she was making a potion.

  Kiethara was tense; she hardly dared to breath. The atmosphere around the woman was not at all menacing, but then again, it wasn’t “normal” like Navadar’s was. She could sense magic, but only a little, and nothing that amounted to a threat.

  Still, she remained cautious. With a quick step back, her shield came up. She jumped a little at her own defense mechanism—it had almost killed her this morning—and her foot snapped a twig.

  The woman whipped her head around. With a jolt, Kiethara realized the woman was much older than she had originally thought. Wrinkles creased the wizened face into numerous folds, but of what she could see of the woman’s eyes, she saw that they were as piercing as they were dark. These eyes narrowed as they gazed upon her face.

  The old woman rose slowly. She had a glass bottle in one hand and Kiethara spotted a large jug that had been placed on the ground behind her. The lady made no sudden movement and she had no indications that she would attack. The inability for Kiethara to sense any type of danger made her shield disappear and her muscles relax.

  Still moving slowly, the woman placed the bottle in her hand next to the jug. She straightened, wiping her hands on the front of her dress, gazing at her with an unfathomable expression. Kiethara felt a twinge of annoyance at her unnerving stare.

  “Who are you?” Kiethara demanded, raising her hands up in front of her, crystals glowing slightly.

  “Durga,” the old lady said, raising her eyebrows at Kiethara’s new position.

  “Why are you here?”

  “I’m making a potion,” Durga said slowly. Her voice sounded worn, as though she used it often.

  “Who are you?” she asked before Kiethara could respond. “But wait, I know. You act as though you own this mystical forest. I can sense deep magic around you, yet despite this, you are still wary of a little old woman. A scar trails your right arm; no ordinary girl would have the pleasure of owning one of those, now would they? Which one of them would dare venture that close to the tip of a sword? Your finery there glows like the stars on a winter’s night; obviously, a great power lies in them. Potions cling to your waist. You are thin…but you are strong, stronger than most, I should say. You are…pretty, yet those pale features are not your highlight; however, those brilliant eyes make up for it. Oh, those eyes! A shining navy blue that will take any man’s heart away.”

  Kiethara blinked in surprise and then blushed. For some strange reason, Navadar’s face popped into her mind.

  “Your hair could use a trim, my goodness! A bland color it is and ruler straight. Hmm…” Durga pursed her lips and scanned her over.

  “So, what does this tell me? These minor details that I have observed by just lying my eyes on you has brought me to the only logical conclusion I can think of, which would be the preposterous contemplation that you are the guardian of the forest!” she explained.

  Kiethara did not know how to respond. Yes, the woman was right…but was she a threat? She would have certainly attacked by now and, if she was here on an ulterior motive, she would know just who the guardian was. My, the old hag talked a lot. No wonder her voice sounded like that.

  “Well, don’t just stand there!” Durga snapped. “Tell me if I’m right or not.”

  “Er…yes. Yes, you are right,” Kiethara finally answered.

  “Of course I am, child! And you can lower those arms of yours; I’m not going to attack you.”

  Child. Everyone was calling her a child lately. Reluctantly, she lowered her arms.

  Durga turned her back to her and kneeled besides the river again. Once her hands were busy again, she began talking.

  “So the legends are all true, then? Always knew they had to be. Since when did people have that good of an imagination? Not to mention they wouldn’t make a story as sad as this one. But why do I keep calling it a story, when, in fact, I’m speaking of your life?”

  Kiethara approached Durga and the river slowly. Her voice sounded so loud in the quiet forest.

  “I suppose it is.”

  “You don’t say much, do you?” Durga asked, but she continued without waiting for an answer. “I guess you wouldn’t have much company to talk to, anyway. Dead mother, a powerful enemy I hear, and now me, who never shuts her yap. Maybe you get a nomad here or there, but I can’t imagine it amounting to much. You’ve probably seen less people than the newborn in my tribe has! Mind you, he’s only seen his family…”

  Kiethara opened her mouth, only to close it again. What was she supposed to say? Instead of standing there like a fool, she decided to sit down by the river too, a couple feet from the old woman.

  Durga twisted her torso to get a better look at her. “What’s your name, honey?”

  “Kiethara.”

  “Kiethara.” Durga repeating, running the name over her tongue. “Kiethara. Do you know what that means?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Well, in an ancient language, your name can be dissected into two parts, considering its length. ‘Kie’ means faith. ‘Thara’ means reason. I should know, for I’ve studied this stuff long enough. The number of old scrolls my tribe has held on to over the years…”

  “Faith and reason?” Kiethara asked.

  “Yes…well, maybe you should say ‘faithful reason.’ Much prettier that way, if you ask me. My name means ‘free,’ but I say ‘freedom.’ I like that much better. Not that freedom means much to me at all, can’t remember a day in my life when I didn’t have a duty to my tribe that I needed to accomplish. That’s not exactly freedom, now is it?”

  “I guess not. It’s more freedom tha
n I have,” Kiethara shrugged.

  “Hah! Now that’s the best thing I’ve heard you say yet, not that you’ve said much. It’s completely true, too, more true than I could imagine. Yes, you do have a rather binding duty, not to mention one that binds you to the same place as well. At least I can wander, I can explore, interact, and see the world…although, if I may admit to it, this hunk of land you have here is a work of beauty. One day you might just seek the world out yonder, but I can assure you this: after you’ve had your fill, you’ll be dying to return here. There’s nothing like it.”

  Kiethara only nodded at Durga’s words, for she was distracted by what the lady was doing. Durga was holding the small glass bottle over the surface of the water in an outstretched hand. She concentrated on the water with a surprising intensity, as though she was struggling to do something.

  Water from the river shot up in a thin stream until it was level with Durga’s eyes. The water focused on one spot, where it slowly rolled into a liquid orb that grew larger as the water continued to stream into it. Then the flow cut of abruptly, but the orb continued to hang in midair.

  The orb drifted until it was directly above the bottle. Kiethara took a sharp intake of breath, and Durga smiled.

  “What? Did you think you were the only one here with some magical powers? Not quite, dearie!”

  Durga put emphasis on her words by performing another magical task. With her free hand, she waved her fingers over the grass. A yellow tulip slowly bloomed in a twist, much slower than Kiethara grew her flowers and less vibrant, for one or two of the petals drooped. Durga picked the small thing delicately.

  She glanced up at the orb and the bottle and suddenly water began dripping from the sphere into the glass, each drop measured and the rhythm precise. Carefully, Durga inserted the petals one by one until there were none left and the orb was half its original size.

  Kiethara watched her proceed in awe. She had never seen anyone one else use magic like this before and, as Durga used the rest of the water and the stem of her flower, Kiethara couldn’t help but feeling a bit incredulous.

  Obviously pleased with herself, Durga held the swirling potion up to her eye. Satisfied, she dumped the entire thing into the jug besides her.

  “Why, you’ve looked like you’ve seen a miracle!” Durga exclaimed, turning back to her. Kiethara realized that her mouth was open slightly. With a blush, she closed it. “It was only a potion! I see you’ve made some yourself. Probably better than this one here. All this can do is rid a sickly person of a fever! Useful, though, since a fever can kill off an entire village if not treated right. Still, I didn’t perform any type of magic that you haven’t seen before. Or are you just shocked a little old lady can make a potion?”

  Kiethara nodded, turning back to the river. Durga had reminded her why she had come looking for a river this morning. No matter what sudden appearance she encountered, she still had two vital potions to make. So she reached down to her waist and removed one of the empty bottles.

  Durga and Kiethara worked in silence for a few minutes. Durga repeated the same potion over and over again, always holding it up to her eye before dumping it into the jug besides her. Once, when the yellow color was just a bit darker than the others had been, Durga threw it into the river in disgust, muttering for a good few minutes to herself. Kiethara decided not to interrupt and she herself managed to finish her two potions without a mistake.

  When they were both finished, they stood up. Durga wiped her fingers in her dress and appraised her.

  “Well, it certainly has been a pleasure,” she said. “I don’t know what people are doing today. All I hear, when we get close enough to a kingdom to hear such, are nasty rumors about this forest and harsh gossip about the previous guardians. You’re as sweet as the apples growing above your head, so don’t let any of that nonsense get to you. What gives birth to that evil is fear and only fear. People don’t know how to react to what they don’t know, so they put on a brave tongue while they hide behind the bigger man’s sword! They don’t know the truth, but don’t let those lies brush a strand of your hair out of place.”

  “Thank you,” Kiethara said smiling, looking kindly at the old lady. She didn’t bother mentioning that she heard none of these nasty rumors herself; besides, she didn’t think Durga needed to know about the extent of her isolation from the outside world.

  “Child, spare me, I don’t think I’ve heard you say more than five words at a time. I believe a person’s voice speaks a lot about the person, so let me hear yours!”

  Kiethara bit her lip. What on earth should she say? She was worried; Aaron had told her about some of the customs and rules other people held and she didn’t want to offend her.

  “I will tell you something,” Kiethara said. “It isn’t the most pleasant thing I can leave you with, but it’s the most helpful thing I can give…I don’t know how it is outside the forest, or what you know. What I can say is that Gandador has reared his ugly head again and that he’s taken to attacking the forest again. So please, be careful…”

  Durga’s eyes narrowed. “I will keep that in mind.”

  It was, possibly, the shortest sentence she had uttered all day. With an unreadable expression, Durga picked up her jug and turned away from Kiethara. She began to walk away. Right before she disappeared from sight, however, she turned to give Kiethara one last look.

  That glance had been full of words.