“Have I told you about the time he bested a Giant Narman?”
“What’s a Giant Narman, Mother?” I asked, immediately intrigued.
“It’s extinct now, but oh it was a fearsome creature. A hundred feet tall and as mean as the day is long. They had a giant horn right here,” she said, tapping my forehead. “When in water, they swam like the beautiful Narwahl, but on land they were cranky, mean-spirited giants who liked to smash villages just for fun.”
“I bet they never got a birthday present. Maybe that’s why they were so mean?”
She giggled; her kind eyes crinkled with joy. “Perhaps, but we will never know for sure. Well, one of those Narman set foot on the beach just outside our village, and your father sprang to action with his brothers and the other men.”
“What did the women do, Mother?”
“Oh, we had our duty. We used special magic to protect the children and keep the village safe by making it invisible.”
“What did Papa do?” I asked.
“He was very brave! He climbed right up that nasty giant and snapped his horn right off! Then he slid down the giant’s back as it fell. With his brother’s help, your father jabbed the mighty giant with its own horn, killing it instantly. He saved our little village that day.”
I pondered the story, wishing I had met my father but believing he was brave and fearless anyway. I wanted to be brave and fearless, too, but I wasn’t sure how to achieve such lofty goals.
“Mother?”
“Yes, dear?” she asked, peering down at me.
“When I grow up, can you teach me how to be brave and fearless, too?”
I hardly noticed the worry that flashed in her eyes before she smiled at me again. “Come on, Tristan. Let’s go get that birthday present.”
“Jordan has the flashbacks, too,” I heard a woman say. “I’ve already enacted the pain control spell on him. Petra is sitting with him until he recovers.”
“Great job, Julianna. Let’s help Ophelia, then we’ll help Parker. Ophelia seems to be experiencing extraordinarily intense pain.”
“That’s unusual, I wonder if that means something?” Julianna asked, but I didn’t hear Wil’s response.
A twig snapped under my foot, alerting my uncle who sighed deeply.
“Tristan, what is rule number one of hunting big game?” he asked, his kind eyes scanning the forest behind me as we spoke.
“One must be quieter than the silence after the newly fallen snow,” I said.
He chuckled. “Yes, but with those teeth clattering you’ll scare off every animal in a day’s distance. I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you take my bear skins and settle against that tree? I’ll find something for dinner, and then we’ll go back home?”
“Y-yes, sir,” I said, teeth still clanging together painfully.
My uncle shook his head, then handed me his thick bearskin cloak. I pulled it around me, instantly feeling warmer. I fell against the tree and settled there, committed to keeping quiet until he returned with enough food to feed our entire family. Uncle Abdiel, my late father’s eldest brother, had taken up the responsibility of caring for my family along with his, but it came at great cost to him. Twice the mouths to feed and a young boy to train, which took up the better part of his day.
I sighed, wondering if I would ever be as brave as my uncle and my father. I doubted I would. For some reason, my father’s fearlessness didn’t pass on to his son, and I often froze when faced with a ferocious bear or an angry boar. I also knew I would starve to death as an adult. My hunting skills were nonexistent and seemed to get worse the harder I worked at them.
A twig snapped behind me. I turned to tease my uncle. He often snuck up on me, but this time I heard him.
“Aha! What is rule number—” My words caught in my throat. My face was mere inches from a ferocious wolf who snarled and bared his gnarly teeth at me. I swallowed hard, the ball of spit sticking in my throat. The wolf took another step forward, and I inched back on my bottom. It seemed delighted by my retreat and lowered its head, then whipped it up toward the sky, howling loudly.
Its pack descended.
I scrambled to my feet and tried to climb the tree, but it was useless. My feet slid from the stripped bark, blasted deer! The first wolf, the gnarly-toothed monster of a canine, snapped at my feet. I kicked at him, managing to stomp on the sensitive part of his nose. He cried out in pain as the rest of his pack circled me.
I tried to kick at them but lost my grip and fell on my back. Once there, the wolves came at me. They bit my arms and legs until the pain was too much to bear. Eventually, the pain melded into the background as my thoughts drifted toward the father I never knew. I was a disappointment, a useless lump of a boy who couldn’t provide a single bite of meat for his family, a loner who would make a nice meal for a pack of wolves.
Get up, my boy.
I heard a voice from behind, deep and strong. Uncle Abdeil?
You are no disappointment, my nephew! Get up and fight!
I heard the voice again. I struggled to free myself from the dog, to protect my belly and neck from the inevitable kill bites.
You have my brother’s blood in your veins, boy. Viktorsson blood! The same as mine and I tell you, you are strong! You are strong! Rise and fight!
“Uncle? Uncle, help me!” I screamed, only feeding the frenzy of the pack. More came, and soon I wouldn’t be able to keep them at bay.
Tristan, focus. You are descended from greatness just as your father. By order of Hagar, I order you to rise! Fight, boy!
I had no idea who Hagar was, but it angered me that he couldn’t see I was more than outnumbered. I felt that anger bubble under my skin until it burned. One of the wolves bit my leg, then squealed and darted away. I felt a burst of adrenaline shoot through me, ricocheting through every part of my body until it exploded from my mouth in a mighty roar.
My body ripped apart, shedding its human skin until nothing remained but a giant cat. I swiped at the wolves, catching one in my mighty paw. It squealed and fell dead at my feet. The others began to fight harder, but it was useless. My teeth slashed, my claws tore, and the wolves regretted picking on easy prey.
I heard another sound behind me. Believing it a wolf, I turned hard. Instead of a wolf, I saw another cat, a snow leopard like myself.
You have done well, Tristan. Your father and grandfather would be proud of you.
I swore the cat was speaking to me, but I couldn’t understand how. My back started to ache, then suddenly great black wings sprouted from just under my shoulder blades. I cried out, a loud feline roar that echoed in the forest. I heard the lone wolf howl, then it scampered away.
When the wings settled on my back, the other leopard shifted. A human—my uncle.
“Good work, Tristan. The first shift is the most difficult. The next will be easy. Now, focus on being human, and it shall be so.”
I stared into my uncle’s eyes and thought of being human. Slowly my wings retracted, and my skin morphed, leaving me naked in the snow. My uncle wrapped himself in a warm garment and handed the bearskin back to me.
“What was that?” I cried, terrified by my own ability.
“That was your destiny, my boy.”
The pain was gone, but the confusion remained. I heard shuffling, then Ophelia’s voice.
“It’s okay, Park. Just relax. I’m here with you,” she said. She had already recovered, so it must not last long, I thought.
“I just got word the villagers and children have arrived safely in Goldene Stadt. The other group should arrive in Schattenland shortly,” Wil said.
“Good. Now all we need to do is wait for Parker to wake,” Calla said, then I drifted again.
I polished the armor to a high shine just as my master liked it. His was the most impressive in all the land, and I didn’t want to dishonor him by missing any smudges. Sir Engelrod was also the bravest man I’d ever met, except for my Uncle Abdiel who had perished in battle two summers before my ap
prenticeship.
“Tristan Einarsson, you have made me proud,” Sir Engelrod announced as he approached. “You are the best apprentice in the land, and I have a surprise for you this day.”
I rose slowly, my heart pounding. Any blessing the knight bestowed upon me would be an honor, yet my mind still wandered as I tried to decide what it could be. Sir Engelrod pulled a long sword from behind his back, knelt, and presented it to me. It was beautiful, polished and engraved with intricate patterns along the fuller, stopping short just before the weak part of the blade. The hilt was a strange black metal that glistened in the sunlight, and it boasted a blood-red ruby at the end.
“It is beautiful,” I said, feeling the word scarcely described the sword.
“It has been my honor to be your master, and now I would like to teach you everything I know. I will pass along every skill taught to me by my master, your father, Einar the Courageous.”
I gazed down at Sir Engelrod, surprised he knelt in my presence.
“My father?”
“Indeed,” he said, rising to his feet. “And this was his sword. It’s magical, Tristan. Wield it proudly, but cautiously, for when paired with the fabled Siphon Dolch it has the power to save worlds.”
“The Siphon Dolch? What is that?” I asked, my curiosity piqued.
He chuckled. “One rite of passage at a time, my boy. First, let me tell you about the sword, your sword entrusted to me by your father before his fateful voyage. This blade has no origin known to man. It simply appeared in the hands of the rightful heir. It will protect you, Tristan, but you must earn its trust for it to truly protect you and those you love. Continue to be honorable, be kind and steadfast, and above all else, when the time comes, do not fear your fate.”
I gazed at the sword again, my mind swirling. “I’m confused.”
Sir Engelrod chuckled. “Just continue on the path, my boy, and you will not go wrong.”
My vision blurred as the memory faded, leaving me confused and worried. If there was a sword that was supposed to protect me, I had no knowledge of where it could have gone. I fell back into the memory recall, annoyed that I could not remember the sword.
“Tristan! Are you finished packing your things? We must hurry! The royals in Schattenland have disappeared, and it is only a matter of time before those in Weisserwald are cursed!” My mother rushed around our small home, knocking things into a satchel without much regard for their care.
She and her twelve sisters had been called upon to protect the newborn twins of Weisserwald from an evil presence that had already taken many other kingdoms. With any luck, we would arrive in the faraway kingdom in time to save the twins from a fate worse than death.
“I’m nearly finished. Are you sure we can’t wait until my official—”
“Tristan, love, you are a knight in heart and strength, no title bestowed by the Chief will increase your worth in that regard. Come, the others are waiting.”
We joined the other twelve along with their families and loaded up the carriage to make the long trek to The Black Forest. My mother was sure she could protect the children from whatever evil wanted their eternal souls, but I had other plans. Whatever it was, I’d eviscerate it with the sword.
I slipped my most prized possession into its sheath and secured it on my belt, cinched my sack and flung it over my shoulder. I slid onto the coachman’s position and clicked my tongue, urging the horses onward. The forest was eerily quiet that day, but the light snowfall blanketed everything in beauty. I marveled at the cleanness of it all, the serenity that could be found in the early hours of snowfall.
Just as I turned the coach around the bend, a monster appeared on the road. My cousin leaped from his position in the first coach, and I was soon behind. The monster, tall and grotesque with glowing purple eyes and shaggy fur, swatted at my cousin. He missed him by an inch as his sister screamed. One of my other cousins shifted and bolted from her coach. She swarmed down on the monster, pecking at its eyes to distract it.
I ran toward them, pulling the sword from its safe place. My eldest cousin, daughter of One, swooped down and picked me up with her sharp talons, lifting me to the approximate level of the beast’s heart. I plunged my sword deep into the chest, instantly killing the monster.
It was the first of many battles we would face on our way to The Black Forest, but I would soon discover there were creatures in the sea far worse than any on land.
I sat ramrod straight in bed, my eyes connecting with Ophelia’s. Her blue eyes offered a moment of respite from the onslaught of memories, but even my love for her could not keep me present. I fell backward, less significant memories filing into place while the big one, the game changer queued up for play. When it came, I understood just how brave my father had been in surviving the Kraken attack.
“Hurry son, go as fast as you can.” My mother pushed the infant twins into my arms. “You are the only one who can save them!”
“Mother? What on earth has happened? I thought you—”
“We were too late. She has cursed them, but I have placed a control of sorts on Rose’s spell. They will not shift if the block is in place. Take them far from here, go to the world your father wrote about in his journals. From now on, go only by the name Tristan Dressaur, my mother’s name. I will know you, but others will not. You will be safe in the land your father found, and I will join you soon!”
“But Mother—”
“There is no time to argue, Tristan! Go, and I will find you wherever you are!”
With her final words, my mother slammed the door in my face. I stared down at the two defenseless infants, one with striking blue eyes, the other with a goofy smile that made me smile in return. I held them tightly against my chest and ran to the nearest port. We had friends in the shipyard, and I was certain I could smuggle the children through the checkpoints with their help.
When we finally reached the port, many of the ships had been destroyed—burned, sunken, disappeared into thin air. What’s happened here? I wondered. I spied a ship belonging to a trusted ally and headed toward it. I found Pieter hurriedly packing his ship with supplies for a long voyage.
“Pieter! Pieter, it is I, Tristan Einarsson, son of Thirteen, son of Einar—”
“Hurry! Get on and hide them in the bunkhouse! Your mother sent word you would come!” he yelled over the sounds of people screaming.
“What’s happening?” I called.
“Armageddon, my friend. Hurry and get on! And do not forget, you are no longer Tristan Einarsson, but Dressaur!” Pieter drew his knife and cut the thick rope anchoring his vessel to the dock, then climbed the ladder and flipped himself onto the deck.
“Where are your men?” I asked.
“Gone. She’s killed half the kingdom, Tristan! Where has your mind been?” Pieter questioned.
“I was training all morning! My mother interrupted my post-training meditation and sent me on my way. I have no supplies, nothing!” I rarely panicked, but it sure felt like as good a time as any to take up the habit. I had no idea how to care for children, especially babies.
“The ship is stocked. We will be fine if we can get out of here,” Pieter said.
He navigated the vessel out of the yard and pointed it west to the lands my father had written of in his journals, the land on the other side of our world—assuming it was not flat, of course. Our travels went well for days, then disaster struck.
A pod of dolphins warned us of impending doom, but they were not quick enough. Pieter’s navigation was superior, but he had unwittingly traveled into the territory of the fearsome Kraken. One long tentacle burst from the surface of the water and paused upright, then forcefully slammed down on the ship, cracking it in two.
“Abandon ship!” Pieter screamed, but what was I to do with two babies? I could not swim with each arm full!
I tried to build a makeshift lifeboat with a few loose planks, but it was useless. The tentacles battered the ship to bits. I had to shift. I would scare the b
ejesus out of Pieter, but I had no choice. I shifted and grabbed the babies, then lifted myself high into the air with a silent prayer Pieter might swim long enough for me to find land. Escape was close, just a few feet higher and I would evade the 1000-foot tentacles.
Pieter gasped, then lost his footing and slipped into the ocean before he was prepared. The monster’s long tentacle pushed him under water, never to be seen again. My heart ached for my friend, but my duty was to protect the children. I pushed on, nearly to safety. I prayed I would find land soon, or else we would all perish.
I spied another ship a few miles away and pointed myself in its direction. A long, black tentacle shot out of the ocean below me, faster than I could move. It grabbed me tightly and pulled, dragging the three of us from the sky in a matter of seconds. We plunged into the water. I fought as hard as I could, biting and thrashing at the monster’s arm, but it did no good. The infants floated down, down, down into the darkness... I continued to fight until the burning sensation in my lungs was too much to bear, then the darkness came for me, too.
“Ah!” I screamed and shot up straight in bed, my mind overloaded with memories that were too painful to hold inside. I felt my eyes sting with tears. No wonder Ophelia and Jordan’s memory recall only took a short time. Their lives were mere months. What memories could they have?
“Parker?” Ophelia said, gently pulling me toward her. “It’s okay. We know you tried to save us. We know.”
Jordan sat in a chair on the other side of me. Petra leaned against him with an arm wrapped protectively around his shoulders.
“Yeah, we don’t remember much, but we know you fought really hard,” Jordan said.
I swallowed, assuming the sword had also been lost in the ocean, probably never to be seen again. I let my eyelids flutter closed for a moment and took a few cleansing breaths—in, out, in, out. Ophelia rubbed my back soothingly as the others slowly trickled out of the room to give us privacy. Wil and Calla left together, while Julianna whispered in Jordan’s ear before leaving.
“What was that about?” Ophelia asked.
Autumn Awakens Page 25
