Everwinter (Chronicles of Naelyra Book 1)

by R. J. Lloyd

  Everwinter

  Chronicles of Naelyra book 1

  Everwinter

  Cover by Misty Polish

  Editing by Genevieve Scholl & Misty Polish

  Formatting by Colleen Nye

  Author photo by Colleen Nye

  Published by: Digital Quill Services

  Copyright © 2020 Digital Quill Services & R.J. Lloyd

  Printed in the United States of America

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher.

  The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of a copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by fines and federal imprisonment.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters and situations appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or personal situations is purely coincidental.

  To the roleplayers of the world and the magical worlds you all create.

  Especially my Sam

  Chapters

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  More books by R.J. Lloyd

  Chapter

  One

  Eldercairn

  I locked up the bookstore and headed home after a long day. Nora’s Book Nook, named after my mother, Nora Carter, had been my passion for a number of reasons. And each location ended up being the second home to its employees and many of its customers. Something that made me feel like my mother would have been proud.

  That particular day had been a rough one though, with grumpy customers and quarterly audits, and I wanted nothing more than to wash it all away from me; to step out of my professional skin and into my lounge pants and oversized sweatshirt.

  Once home, I readied myself to do a simple cleansing ritual in my spell shed. You know, sort of like a she-shed but for… well… spell casting and rituals. The sort of things us witches, casters or druids do. Whatever you want to call my kind.

  It was a small, wooden shack that I converted on the back of my Oregon property, just inside the tree-line with a clear view of the sky. The one-room build was my go-to place when I needed to cast or meditate. Someplace away from my actual home and from view of prying eyes I may not want to know about my powers… which was pretty much everyone.

  However, on that day, I would not complete my spell. Instead, after a quick change into my aforementioned, preferred clothing choice. I gathered my crystals and felt myself soaking in the energy, sitting down in my bohemian style, wooden shack, the plush carpet beneath me. Spreading out the array of crystals, herbs and salts in front of my folded legs, a glimmer of unnatural air appeared before me as if it were made of water. A shimmering, undulating oval. The hairs on my arms stood on end as I got the feeling it was looking at me or someone looking through it was.

  I scooted back, grabbing the bag next to me, swiping up a few items reflexively and shoving them in it as I stumbled up to my feet. I paused, waiting for the air to shift, change or leave. But it just hovered in front of me, seemingly beckoning me.

  Holy shit! What is this? Call it gut instinct, call it witchcraft, call it whatever, but I had to touch it. I needed to feel it. My breath hitched as I reached out, intending to just feel its energies. With my hand out, palm toward the strange, oval wall, a cool shiver raced up my arm. The ebb and flow of the material was odd, flicking like flames, yet rolled like waves. And the most peculiar thing was that as I reached for it, the thing seemed to reach for me.

  You would think that there would have been a lot of lights or sounds… or both. A whooshing or a bang. Maybe a sensation of being yanked, pulled or falling. But there was nothing. I blinked. A shiver coursed down my spine and through my toes, then, I was dusting my pant off, trying to figure out what happened as I lifted myself off the dusty ground that was suddenly beneath me.

  I furrowed my eyebrows at the glimmering oval before me, ready to curse at it for throwing me off guard. But before my mind could wrap around a plan to investigate it, something tugged at me, drawing my attention to the fact that my surroundings were not as they should be. Nothing was like it had been a moment before.

  It was in that moment, the realization hit me that I was not at home... not in my spell cabin... and seemingly not even in my own time or whatever.

  Where the fuck was I? Panic settled into the pit of my stomach. I had to swallow it back. For a moment, I was paralyzed, unable to move; frozen in place staring at the mass that hovered before me.

  I wasn’t breathing.

  Auriena, you need to breathe. You need to move! I could hear my name, but I had no clue it was my own mind trying to get my own attention. But even if it had been someone else, I don’t think I would have replied. I was completely in shock, but I couldn’t let fear guide me. I had never fallen prey to it before. I sure as hell wasn’t about to start.

  Swallowing hard, I took a breath. The lump in my throat threatened to not allow the air to pass by. But I gasped, and the paralyzing grip of fear released. I could do this. Whatever this was.

  "Okay..." I dragged the word out, standing there staring at the strange force that had transported me to that spot. Hesitantly, I reached out to touch it again, thinking maybe it would take me back. But as I got close, the hairs on my arm stood again. This time, it did not reach out to me. This time, it recoiled.

  I whipped my arm back, the motion coupled had me stumbling a few of steps back. “Nope.” I shook my head hard. “What the hell is that?” I backed away further.

  Another few measured breaths, and I started to regain my wits. You’ve gone through worse. You’re a strong woman… and smart. You can figure out what’s going on. It’s probably a prank or some dream. But you got this. My lame attempt at a pep talk for myself made me roll my eyes. But I was right about one thing, I needed to figure out what was going on and where I was.

  Wandering around the spot, trying to figure out what was going on, I picked up some of the foliage and rocks, sifted the dirt and examined the landscape. Everything looked similar to what I had seen before in a more dessert area, but here, the trees were more pointed. Grass, while sparse was more of a teal. Frankly, everything looked a little different. In my gut, I knew something was terribly off. I tried to soak in the energy around me but it too was different.

  This couldn’t be real. I checked my phone, lifting it from the spilled contents of my purse that must have dropped when I landed. No service. Of course. With that, I gathered my few belongings that I had dropped and weaved my way through the trees, looking for signs of people and possibly an explanation of where or when I was, trying to stay as concealed as possible.

  I needed to know the situation before I was willing to risk engaging another person. Call it street smarts. Call it survival. But growing up on the streets made me leery of people in general. People in a place some watery portal just bounced me to was on a whole other level in my book.

  Staying close to the trees, I hadn’t gone far before seeing people moving about. But what I came across kept me staying out of sight. Armor. Lots of armor.
So, not going anywhere near all that. I slunk back behind a tree that I could only describe as a small oak crossed with a cactus with its bark-covered trunk and branches that held green leaves. But those leaves were lined with similar, sharp needles that looked just like cacti needles. Great. Now I had to avoid fallen leaves and low hanging branches.

  Staying hidden, I watched for a moment and observed my surroundings. Men, women and children wandered through what appeared to be a market area. Some were manning wooden and sod booths, selling everything from foods, clothing to trinkets. Kids played in the dirt roadways. People wandered about, chatting and purchasing goods, some bartering for trade. Most wore what I could only describe as a relaxed warrior style – leather pants and tops, thin cotton shirts, taller boots, arm braces, straps and buckles. Others wore long robes, loosely fitted that looked to allow for coverage from the sunlight but also, I assumed let the air flow easily. A few wore heavy armor, looking as if they had just rolled in from battle or were headed out to one while some women were dressed in long gowns, adorned with delicate accessories, their hair pulled up in curls and buns.

  A hot breeze blew through the area as I worked to keep out of sight, deciding I needed to keep moving. My grey sweatpants, black Smithsonian sweatshirt and converse shoes a stark contrast to both the attire around me as well as the climate. Yet, I couldn’t see myself wearing what those I had observed had chosen. My curiosity was growing. I couldn’t tell if I was on some strange, historical military base or in the middle of a medieval re-enactment. Either way, something in my gut filled me with caution. And I wasn’t one to ignore my instincts.

  A hand landed on my shoulder. I nearly jumped out of my skin as I turned, ready to fight. My fists came up, but instead of an armor-clad warrior, I found an elderly man's face. "Not from around here, are you?"

  I lowered my fists and watched him cautiously. “Is it that obvious?” I pulled my bag around to hug it close, my eyes darting around the area.

  “We do not get many people covered in ink. Especially not attractive women. Most of those with art on their skin are men… warriors. Warriors or they’re of some spiritual significance. Or some we simply do not speak of. Come.” He held out a cloak, offering it to me. “Come, put this on. I’ll take you to my house so you can change before you’re seen. Do not fall behind.”

  He didn’t wait for either an argument or for me to agree as he began slipping the garment over my shoulders. Okay, so I guess I’m wearing this then. I held still, allowing him to slip the black, full-length cloak over my shoulders.

  I pulled it around me completely before following him to a small cabin not far away. It was tucked in a cove near a crystal-clear pond. Trees surrounded the small yard that cradled a garden on one side. Stepping inside, I struggled not to ask if this was some joke. If my friends were playing some prank on me. I remembered sitting in a cabin similar in style on an elaborate film set a friend of mine worked on for a small budget movie. But everything in this one looked used, less like a prop. Plus, his accent was different than I had ever heard, but he was speaking English, even if a little broken. Something that gave me a bit of relief.

  He pointed to a room just off the living area. “You can change in there, quickly. There are some things in the chest at the foot of the bed that belonged to my late wife. She was about your size. I’ll fix something quick to eat before you need to go.”

  I didn’t know why he was pushing me to eagerly to change. I didn’t know this man, nor his home, let alone his intentions. Sure, my clothes were different than what I’d seen, but the cloak was more than sufficient to cover them. But as I looked at him, I could feel that this was no reenactment, not joke, not dream. And I needed to heed his warnings.

  “Thank you.” I excused myself. I figured it not only couldn’t hurt but was probably in my best interests to try to fit in as much as possible. I’d read enough time travel themed books. If that was what was going on, I certainly didn’t want to become a cliché. I needed to keep my wits about me.

  Sifting through the articles of clothing, I selected the outfit that covered the most, which really wasn’t near as much as I would have preferred. I left the remaining items folded neatly in the chest and returned to the main room, adjusting a buckle that held one of the straps around my waist in place. “Your people like to show their skin?”

  He chuckled, setting a plate of food on the table next to a pitcher, two glasses and a book. I eyed the book curiously. I could touch it and read it without him even knowing but refrained. “The people here deal with heat as well as prefer not to be encumbered by attire. Especially if they need to fight.”

  “Fight?” My eyebrows pulled in, my gaze leaving the book. “Wars or domestic?”

  “Either,” he replied.

  I shook my head as if trying to clear it. “Okay. Right.” Lowering myself into a chair at the table, I rubbed my face. “Have I gone back in time somehow?” I wasn’t sure if asking him was the right thing to do, but he seemed to have at least some answers.

  “I cannot be sure of that. I do not know what your timeline is in comparison to ours here. But if you’re asking if you are still on your planet, you are not. That’s one thing I can tell for certain.” He took a seat facing me and poured some water into a glass, sliding it across the table. “Please drink, eat, read that and take the bag hanging by the front door to carry your belongings in. I’ve put some food, a flask and some money in it. But please, hurry. You cannot stay here.”

  His words had me alert. There was no way he knew of my abilities. Was there? I wasn’t about to assume anything. And I wasn’t about to admit to anything without cause. “Don’t you think it’s going to take me a while to read a book? Or do you want me to take it, too?” I folded my arms across my chest.

  The man tensed and started to pull the book away. “I’m sorry. I understood that you could read a book by touching it. Was my vision incorrect?”

  “Wait!” I reached for the book. I shook my head and pursed my lips. “No. I can read it. But how do you know that? Very few people know about that. And how did you find me out there? How did you know?”

  He released the book to me, relaxing again. “I’m a seer. My visions come when I’m asleep, and I had been taking a nap when I saw a foreign woman from another planet come through. My visions work like quests. They only come when I have something to do, and I’m given limited information. I know only that you are from another planet. You have strong magic in you, and one thing is the ability to read books by touching them. And that you’re in grave danger if you do not blend in and get home. I am in danger if I am caught with you here, which will be soon if you do not get moving, so we must end this conversation.”

  A seer? A vision of me? He had to have more answers. “Where am I? Why all the danger?” I picked at the plate of meats he’d set out for me. Meats I did not recognize the taste of.

  He stood and started to pace, bringing me the bag he’d mentioned. “There’s not enough time to explain. The book will give you a small bit of information about this planet and enough of our language to get by. Please hurry.”

  Still confused, I wanted to ask a thousand more questions. One of which was why he was willing to help if it put him in so much danger. But, after a moment of hesitation, I did as instructed. I lifted the book, closed my eyes and took a breath. Placing it in the palm of one hand and sliding the other hand, palm down, over its cover, I took in its contents. My brain was still scrambled from the circumstances, and I figured I would sort through the information later, but for the moment, I tried to test the language and spoke as clearly as possible, saying, “Thank you for your kindness.” It felt strange on my tongue and strange to my ears, but I had studied more languages I could count. And this one was not at all an undesirable language. It was almost melodic.

  He nodded, a worried look on his face. “It’s rough, but it should do. Now,” He went to the door. “Take another bite and finish your water. You have quite the walk. Stay close to the trees and
speak to people as little as possible.”

  I listened to more instructions as he ushered me out the door. It clicked behind me, closing me off from the only person who might have a clue as to why I was there. A few moments later, I trudged off, leaving the man's house in some oddly fitting attire, a messenger bag that concealed my obviously out of place purse, a small amount of money, drink and food to get by for a short while and some intel. Well, not a lot of intel, but enough to know I was no longer on Earth.

  As he was ushering me out the door, he had explained that it would be rare to find people that knew anything about the other worlds. Not just rare but one of the reasons that my presence was dangerous. So, blending in was key. But I was to find a tavern called Crossed Candles in the town called Eldercairn, a decent walk up the dirt road.

  He gave me a password, saying something about needing to get on to where I belonged. “Auriena, it is imperative that you reach this tavern and get to the place you belong. More than just your life is at stake. That I can say for certain.” It was very all ominous, but what else did I have to go on? His comment snaked through my thoughts as I walked, stealing my focus.

  Where I belonged? All I could think of was that it certainly wasn't someplace that looked like the renaissance festival and the Neverending Story had a love child world, and I was standing in it. Yet, there I was, walking down some old dirt road to some strange city to find some old, password protected tavern and ... and... oh! Some guy named Falain only to tell him about the weird, shimmering air that I touched before ending up there. And who knows what he would do once I found him.

  I sighed and shook the swirling thoughts away. Focus, Auriena. Keep your wits about you. The small part of my brain tried to take control as I watched my surroundings, trying to keep myself from stumbling into anyone else, but it seemed a fruitless task. Keeping my focus that is. I approached the tavern a few hours later. My mind had wandered so far down a winding path of thoughts that by the time I reached the door, I had completely forgotten the password. Frustrated, I leaned against the wall across from the door, looking at the entrance, trying to remember the lost, verbal key… or what to do next.