Chapter One
At sixteen, my life was telling stories.
I mean, yes, I of course did other things (1), but in my school, everyone knew Adrienne Harkness as The Storyteller. Well, the entire town of Harkness (2) knew me as such, and it really wasn’t what I would call a small place. Our population was maybe six thousand. That’s nothing compared to London, but still. We had a lot of tourism due to the gorgeous wilderness our town was built among, and the tourists (3) had a tendency to come back in a more permanent manner after their initial visit. And I managed to make myself known to every person, from youngest to oldest. But I’ll tell you more about that later.
The story started on the last day of my sophomore year in high school (4). Specifically, it began half-an-hour before our final period before summer vacation was going to end. Let’s get started, shall we?
1) I was a teenager, after all. What teenager doesn’t do numerous activities? You know what, don’t answer that. I’m quite aware that we call them emos.
2) Yes, I’m descended from the founders of the town, if you were wondering. And I know you were, so don’t even lie. Lying is bad for your soul. Bleeding corrupts you, it does.
3) Mostly the ones from London and Westminster.
4) Or at least, that’s when it started in my opinion, and this is my story, so what I say goes.
Glancing at my English teacher Mr. Lundic’s classroom clock, I bit my lip slightly. There were only twenty-eight minutes to go. I was seated comfortably on top of my desk, legs swinging back and forth, listening to my three best friends argue back and forth about what the best part of that night was going to be. Oh right, I need to tell you about what was going on that night.
Every year, my school’s sophomore class went camping in the Arcadi Forest (5) on the last day of school. There were plenty of stories about the forest- hauntings, phaeries, and various other mythical creatures. A student was elected each year by the student body to lead a tour through part of the forest, telling stories about different areas, and only lanterns were allowed on the walk. This year, of course, it was the descendant of the founders who was chosen. I will not say I didn’t see it coming, because that would be a lie. I don’t lie (6).
“What do you think will be the best part?”
I blinked as Carina-Lynne Shan addressed me (7), forcing me to join in the conversation.
Drawing in a deep breath, which I used a moment later to sigh slowly, I reached out a hand to flick her on the nose. A grin spread over my face. “Well, obviously I think the best part will be the marshmallows. White. Soft. Delicious. And best of all, fattening.”
“No, no, no, no, no.” Mickey Jerrick spoke up almost immediately. There was a definite crease to his forehead at the moment, and his blue eyes were narrowed. But only slightly. It wasn’t like he was angry or anything. Back then, I don’t think Mickey even knew the definition of the word angry. “No. The best part is definitely going to be your tour, and the storytelling I know you’ll do around the campfire.”
It was Rose Wicker, my unhealthily petite blonde friend, who chose to speak next. “And what, pray tell, makes you think she’ll be telling stories around the campfire?”
Mickey’s eyes widened. “I want her to. So she will, because she’s madly in love with me.”
I snorted- I couldn’t help it. Mickey? Oh, sure. Even if I had wanted him (8), which I didn’t (9), I wouldn’t have dared to act on it. Rose had had the biggest crush on him since around first grade, and it eventually progressed into love (10) What sort of friend goes for their best friend’s love interest like that? Right, right, the crappy sort. I keep saying really dumb things here, don’t I? And to think it’s my autobiography.
“Mickey, I think Adrienne just said something along the lines of, ‘Hon’, I will only go for you when not only are you the last man on this planet, but the last organism on this planet other than me who is alive.” Carina noted. She was constantly taking sounds and translating them into sentences. It was her thing. Like telling stories was mine.
At her words I giggled. “Hey, be nice to poor Mickey. He’s sweet- but I don’t want him. And I have something more fun to talk about, anyhow. How is everyone going to spend their summer?”
Carina grimaced. “Fun? Uck. I’m looking forward to tonight, but beyond that, my vacation is going to suck. My parents decided to spend their summer traveling, just the two of them, so I’m being forced to go stay with Granny in Westminster. Totally not looking forward to it. Westminster has awesome shipping, and I love Granny, but the nature is nothing compared to our dear little Harkness.”
Our blonde girl slung an arm over her shoulder. “Whoa, sweetie, I feel for you. I’ll be sitting around all summer, prolly hanging with The Storyteller and Rat-face.”
“Quit calling me that!” Mickey glared indignantly in Rose’s direction. “See if I’ll be hanging out with you at all. And if I won’t The Storyteller won’t, ‘cause she’ll be with me.”
I rolled my eyes with another sigh. “I won’t be doing much hanging out this summer.”
“Why not?” That was both Rose and Mickey. (11)
A secretive smile formed on my lips, and my eyes glinted in the light. “My goal this summer is to write the ultimate fantasy novel. I’ll be going to see Gilly before the camping tonight, and tomorrow afternoon I’m heading into Curiosity to see if Florian or Balin can point me towards anything that may come in handy.”
Rose let out a suffering groan. “Love, it’s summer. You need to get out a bit. If you stay in for all of vacation writing, that gorgeous figure of yours might not stay as gorgeous as it has been for the last decade of your life. And no, I’m not insinuating that you were fat before, but I don’t define any six-year-old body as being gorgeous.” She threw a nasty look in Mickey’s direction (12). “And you, darling, need to stop bringing her so many fatty-foods. I love The Storyteller as a pole.”
“So says the girl who could compete with twigs and win.” Carina ran fingers through her hair. “See, our trio has all it needs. No, Mickey, you aren’t included.” She flashed a winning smile (13) at Rose and I. “We have Rose, the toothpick beauty with the very blonde hair- she’s our ditz. We have me, the natural brunette beauty with the odd ideas- I’m our athlete. And of course, we have our exotic beauty.”
Here she paused in her speech to step onto a desk and gesture extravagantly to me.
“The lovely Adrienne Harkness, known best to her town as The Storyteller (14). She’s our leader. And we, along with every male in existence have all been stopped in our tracks at least once by her incredible, head-turning beauty? Who could possibly resist her charms?”
By this point Mr. Lundic was staring at us. Or rather, at Carina. And I’m going to describe him, because he becomes important later on. He was incredibly tall, especially considering he was a white man. We bugged him into letting us measure him once, and we discovered he was about six-foot ten. I never learned his age, but he definitely looked young, and I will admit that I had an extreme crush on him (15), yet so did every other girl in my grade, so I considered it all right. His eyes were a deep blue, and (16) shone with the intensity of the sun (17). And his hair… Oh my God, his hair (18)! It was absolutely amazing, and stunning, and staring at it from across the room, I just knew it would be silky (19). Right, that doesn’t say what it looked like. Fine. Raven feather black, long and without waves, and falling to just below his shoulders. Are you happy now (20)?
“Tell me, Carina. Are you planning to burst into song about the glories and attractiveness of your best friend? Incredibly pretty she may be, and wonderful at telling stories, but if you’re going to compose a song in tribute to her beauty, you should spend time on it, not improvise right now in class. Her level of beauty makes doing so quite worth it.”
Mr. Lundic’s eyes traveled over me, and I was suddenly feeling incredibly self-conscious. I could seriously feel the blush burning in my cheeks. Still, all I did was smile sweetly at him and say, “Why, Mr. Lundic, was it you that was following me in that white Jaguar yesterday? Do I need to press charges on you for stalking?”
No, there was no Jaguar, but that is what he drove, so it worked.
He raised his eyebrows. “Now, Adrienne, you know very well I would never do that. However, we all know you are truly exquisite. For a teenager. I am not attracted to teenagers.”
All right, I guess I should give in and describe myself, shouldn’t I (21)? I was most certainly tall, being just under six-foot, and a fair portion of that height came from my long, slender legs (22). The color of my skin would most likely be defined as ivory, and a third of my money went toward skin care products (23). My face never decided on one shape, as Carina always said, considering my cheekbones were high, and my chin was relatively pointy (24). Another third of my money went for hair products (25) as my hair was always required to be immaculate and perfect, no matter the styling goal. I loved my hair. It wasn’t quite as long as Carina’s (26), but it was very nice. Like Mr. Lundic’s, it was the shade of raven’s feather, and unlike his, I knew for a fact that it was silky. Incredibly and naturally so. It was straight, and I loved its versatility- whenever I wanted a slight wave, it was simple to attain, but if I opted for the normal straightness (27), it was sleek and lovely. Yet I knew my most stunning features were my eyes. They were the shape of those on a cat, and I loved them more than anything else in the world. The color of them was green, at least for the most part. And my entire life, people who stared at them would always see specks of multiple other colors- blue, grey, gold, purple, and at times even black. I admit it- I was exceptionally exquisite at that age (28).
Now I was forced to grin at the man. “That’s somewhat of a relief.”
“Somewhat?” Rose waggled her eyebrows at me suggestively, and I rolled my eyes in response. “Only somewhat?”
“That’s a complete relief.” I smiled dryly at her, shaking my head. “Do not make my words into what they aren’t, my dearest toothpick.”
I loved the blonde completely, but sometimes she could be incredibly daft. We all knew she spent just as much time as the rest of us staring at him. Thinking of how many different ways I could torture her mentally that evening, I turned my eyes back to Mr. Lundic and approached him. I always enjoyed a good conversation with my English teacher.
“So,” he said with a smile, “you’re the tour leader tonight, or so I hear. That should be entertaining. For if anyone should know the secrets of our lovely forest, it would be the one who came from the line of the founders of Harkness, or so I would imagine.”
Cocking my head slightly to the left, I blinked at him. He would say something like that. Something that sounded so noble, and mysterious in its own way. That was a thing he did constantly, and it annoyed me to no end. I’m still not sure why it bothered me, but his voice, and the way he had to say everything in language of that sort struck a nerve.
Mr. Lundic was studying me, and I decided to return his gaze, thus holding my eyes to his own for awhile. “Yes… I suppose I do know the stories best, don’t I? I know most stories the best. Even the forgotten ones. Wes-” I broke off, blushing as I realized my error.
The eyes of my teacher filled with amusement. “You’re lucky no one heard that. While your inner circle knows of our… Relationship- anyone else might start troublesome rumors.”
I should explain that before you start getting disgusting and illegal ideas. Our relationship was one of friendship. As I said before, I never knew how old he was, and I never learned about the texture of his hair, so obviously there wasn’t anything like that going on between us. We’d run into each other by chance one day at the bookstore Curiosity (29), while I was a freshman, and become friends. Nothing more than good friends. Still, I was accustomed to calling him Wesley, because he hadn’t gotten his job until my sophomore year, so he was never Mr. Lundic to me until his class started.
“Mr. Lundic.” I corrected myself before continuing. “You’re coming tonight, aren’t you? As one of the supervisor people, right? Please say yes. I know everyone loves me, but sometimes it’s a bit much to handle. They’re all expecting me to be amazing at this thing, and I don’t want to let them down, but even though I know all of the stories, and have plenty of my own in reserve for the campfire like Mickey wants, I’m not… What they say I am.”
“Adrienne, you’re everything they say you are and then some. The problem is you think that they have a place judging you. You’re glorious. Hang onto yourself.” Mr. Lundic surveyed me kindly. While he bothered me with his way of speaking, he would then follow by saying something like that. He ticked me off. And still, I always enjoyed myself around him.
As I was opening my mouth to answer him, the bell rang. People rushed out beyond us, and I backed up, towards my desk, to hoist my bag onto my shoulder, holding eye contact with my teacher the entire time.
“Do you have something to say before you go?”
Well, I really wasn’t sure what I had been planning to say to him just a moment previously. So instead I merely responded with, “I’ll see you tonight, Wesley. Plan to be walking up front with me on the tour.”
5) That is of course part of the gorgeous wilderness I mentioned a few paragraphs back.
6) Please see the last two sentences of footnote two.
7) She also slapped me in the face with her overly long brunette hair, which she did a lot. Now stop laughing, take your eyes back up there, and keep reading.
8) In any way, shape, or form.
9) Again- in any way, shape, or form.
10) If anyone cares, I won’t be saying this anytime later- those two are married now.
11) They did that a lot. In fact, they still do. It’s very creepy.
12) How she finally convinced him to date her is beyond even my genius.
13) As if Carina had a kind of smile other than winning.
14) See? What did I tell you?
15) It didn’t last.
16) I mean this literally, by the way.
17) Not our sun, mind you. I swear that’ll make sense later.
18) My editor tells me my novels should only contain one punctuation mark at the end of every sentence, but I’d like you all to know that in my mind, there are actually about twenty on that one.
19) A fact I sadly never confirmed.
20) Rhetorical question. I really could care less. I want you to be entertained, but your happiness is not my concern.
21) Listen to me sigh. … No, really, listen.
22) Oh, what am I saying? My entire frame was- and is- slender.
23) I may have been the great Storyteller, but I was still a teenage girl, and God forbid I get a zit, or have any other skin troubles.
24) In a delicate sort of way. Yes, I’m completely aware that I’m a vain person, and always have been. I’ve noticed that each sentence has received a footnote here.
25) And to save you the stress, I’ll tell you now that the final third was reserved for writing supplies and books.
26) Hers touched her arse, while mine was stretching its way to just beyond the center of my back.
27) And that was nine days out of ten, because I really loved my hair how it was.
28) I still am, too! I already admitted that I’m vain, so don’t even start in on me.
29) Which, while most of my story does not take place there, is in fact vital in my tale.
“Gilly!”
“She predicted that you were coming and ran away to the next town over.” A wry male voice answered my call as I burst into the kitchen of a house that wasn’t mine, but I visited quite often (30).
I halted in the doorway of the dining room, glaring at the young man of twenty sitting at the circular table in the center, a teacup held in one hand, a magazine in the other, and a plate with a few crumpets on it in front of him. Immediately after spotting the plate, I darted forward and grabbed it.
“Adrienne.” His said, voice holding the hint of a warning in it. “Put the plate back, now.”
“Kai.” I whined, slowly replacing his plate, though it was now one crumpet short.
I loved this guy. I’d only known him my entire life- or at least the better part of it. We met when I was five. Even at that age, I had been a lover of fantasy. And his grandmother- that’s Gilly- well… I’ll get to her later. But he’d always lived with her, and so when I met her, I started hovering around her to learn stories that weren’t from books I read, and weren’t from my area as well-known legend, and as such met him. According to him, I only angered him, being as sarcastic and as otherwise myself as I was. We all knew that was a lie. He loved me like a kid sister.
His face and voice were charming. While he wasn’t as startlingly and disturbingly handsome as Mr. Lundic, he definitely wasn’t unattractive. His height was slightly over mine, and he wasn’t a heavy man by anyone’s standards. Kai’s eyes were a lovely shade of forest green, and his hair was like dark chocolate. He also had a brilliant mind.
“Don’t even start.” Kai grumbled. “Today is not the day to ‘Kai’ me, because yesterday I discovered something very annoying about you.”
Confusion flooding through me, I tilted my head slightly to the left, trying to work out what I’d done this time. Or what he thought I’d done. It always depended. There had been a time when I was ten (31) that he found someone had painted the sentence THIS NEEDS A BETTER COLOR, NOW!! across his bedroom wall in red and black. He of course immediately assumed it had been my doing, and made his way to my house, where he proceeded to blow up on me about how I needed to fix it, and then would never be allowed in his room again. The butthead made me cry before Gilly came over and told him it had been her. His walls, at the time, had been a repulsive puke-yellow, so I can’t say I blamed her. Together Kai and I repainted his bedroom a much more pleasant midnight blue (32).
“You, Little Miss Storyteller (33), conveniently forgot to tell me something when you were here yesterday.” The man climbed to his feet, magazine still in hand, and advanced in my direction. About a foot away from me, he closed the magazine and pressed the cover in my face.
I choked back a laugh as I read the front. It was this month’s copy of FarFantasy, a magazine I’d been in many times. There was a small picture of me in the bottom left corner, and with good reason. They’d interviewed me, as a young and coming author, who had had approximately sixty-three stories featured in their pages since the age of nine. The interview was placed alongside my most recent story.
“I bought this maybe two hours after you left.” Kai growled, shaking it. There was fire in his eyes, and I wasn’t surprised in the least, considering how long I’d known him. “When a magazine interviews you, I expect to know about it. I would like to know how you could dare to not tell me something like that.”
Now I released a giggle. “Would you believe me if I said it just slipped my mind?”
He rolled his eyes at me. “Not a chance.”
“That’s what I thought… I knew you’d be proud of me, and Gilly would’ve insisted on baking me a cake, but I knew she’d been working all day so I didn’t want her to do that, and thus kept the information to myself.”
Kai jerked his head towards the kitchen, and I spotted a cake pan with foil over the top and groaned, before his voice dragged me back to him. “Once I showed her she made one anyway. Regardless, dearest, considering they had to have interviewed you last month, you should have told me already. A long time ago. Now come on.”
Dropping the magazine, he grabbed onto my wrist in a vice-grip and began dragging me towards the basement door.
“Uhm, Kai, what are we doing?” I raised my eyebrows quizzically.
“We are going to the basement.”
“Well yeah. I sorta realized that. Why are we going to the basement?” We were now traveling down the stairs and I kept on tripping (34).
“Because I decided we were going to go into the basement.”
On the basement floor, my friend flipped the switch, and the room flooded with light. I glowered in his direction. The basement was his room. Not that you would have been able to tell without my help. Before we painted it in that lovely blue I mentioned earlier, when it was still hard to look at, there was only a bed and a dresser. Hugely inspiring, this guy. The ten-year-old me, however, demanded a complete redoing with the painting, and he now had a computer, posters, and numerous pictures of me (35). There were other things, but not important ones (36), so… Yeah.
“So what do you want?” I tapped my foot impatiently. I had come to see Gilly. If she wasn’t here, I needed to go- as much as I loved Kai, I had things to do.
“Wait.” Was his snapped response from the closet. It sounded as though he were digging for something. Finally he came out, a medium-ish box in hand, which he threw at me.
Thankfully I had good reflexes, and caught it before anything could have happened. “And this is… What?”
“Your reward from me. Open it.”
Before doing as told, I made my way to his bed and took a seat on the edge. A few moments later, staring at the envelope I’d discovered inside the box (37), I took note of the weight beside me that told me Kai had sat down. With a flickering glance in his direction, I tore into the envelope and stared in disbelief at what I discovered. One thousand pounds.
I turned my now-wide eyes to Kai, mouthing silently.
His lips curled up into a smile and he deemed to stand up, though he’d only been down for maybe a minute. “Well, Little Miss Storyteller. I assumed you’d like that. You only get to keep it if you agree to my terms, however.”
Wetting my lips I continued to stare at him, attempting to hold my voice steady. “And what are your terms?”
“You know I’m related to the Prime Minister, albeit distantly. I’ve been invited to an event he’s holding in London, and it’s a rather fancy affair. He wants me to bring a… Female friend. And you’re welcome to keep that money if you’re going to use it to purchase a dress… I want you to go with me.”
“Oh, I… You remember that I’m ten years younger than you, right?”
“Yeah. I also remember that you’re the only female I know well enough to ask. It’s two weeks from tomorrow. Will you come?”
I hadn’t the slightest clue where they were from, but tears had manifested themselves in my eyes. I blinked them back. “And you say all I do is tick you off. You’re such a liar. I love you. Of course I’ll go. Now, uhm… If Gilly isn’t here, I need to be going. I’ve got a big night ahead of me.”
30) That is, so long as you, like me, consider often at least once every two days.
31) He was twenty at that point. I was still at an age where I could climb all over him and not get in trouble. God, that was fun. I miss being ten.
32) While doing this, we got into several paint fights, and discovered that it’s important to keep windows open while painting.
33) His personal nickname for me. He started it when I was eight, and became The Storyteller. At that point I hated it more than anything else, and attacked him screaming whenever he deemed to use it.
34) He failed to turn the light on as he passed the switch, and was dragging me so fast that I could only grab the railing, so it was pitch black.
35) So I became vain really early in my life. What about it?
36) The pictures of me were of course the most important.
37) I hated it when he did that. Which was every time he gave me a present.
“If you don’t quit that, I will punch you.”
“Such a loving girl our Storyteller is.” Carina grumbled, standing behind me as the people who were taking the tour gathered around.
Lanterns were being lit, and then we were setting off. My group was arranged around me, and Mr. Lundic was several feet away. Rose, being the one I said I’d punch, had decided to begin popping her gum exceptionally loudly.
“I think everyone is ready.” Mr. Lundic appeared far closer to us (38) to make his small announcement. “Maybe you should call them to order.”
“Yeah…” I forced my way through the people to the opening of the path, knowing my teacher and friend was still right behind me. It was comforting. Once at my destination, I halted and faced the crowd. “Everyone,” I called. “I need you to listen.”
The chatter died down. I considered myself powerful. It was awesome.
I went on. “We are now going to begin our tour. Remember to travel in threes, with one lantern to a group. To do otherwise is dangerous in this wood. If you can’t hear me, you’re too far behind. I want you all to enjoy yourselves, and I hope you learn something. If you don’t, that’s all right too.”
We began to travel through the forest. It had always been a mysterious place, and it was almost a sanctuary to me. Most of my stories that reached publication had been written in this very forest, in a clearing we would pass through later. Though the darkness was extreme, the lanterns brought several areas of light. It was a comfort.
“All right. Stop.” I called, after we’d walked for maybe fifteen minutes. We were standing by the opening to another path. A very narrow one, that I had no intention of taking anyone through. Especially considering… You’ll find out later.
Once everyone had settled enough for me to say more, I spoke again. “Through this parting in the trees, there is said to be great danger. In the year 1656, when my relatives first founded the town of Harkness, ten men were sent out to explore this forest. A mere two of them returned, and you will find that several of my stories are related to them. The survivors declared that they ignored this opening on their way in, but decided to travel down it on their return trip. To keep in honor with their tale, we will hear it upon our return.”
We continued for what couldn’t have been more than ten minutes. Again I stopped everyone. This time we were standing under a hole in the treetops.
“This is the story of how the first explorer was lost. The men came through the same way we have, and halted twenty feet back, hearing unusual and disturbing sounds. It was like something eating, very sloppily, with growls mixed in every so often. One approached slowly. What he saw, and his reaction, is what brought about his demise. It was a creature, standing on two legs, with an incredible amount of clumpy, tangled fur. Beneath it, obviously dead, was a deer. He couldn’t help vomiting. The creature noticed him immediately, and turned, attacking him. The others ran for their lives. Luckily, they all made it, and met back up in a clearing- our next stop.”
Through the course of the night, I told many stories. The clearing featured several. As I said, it was a mysterious place. So I’m going to highlight my personal favorite about it.
“When Harkness had existed for exactly one century, a young woman chose to make her home in these woods. Her name was Juliana Hawthorne, though today she is mostly known merely as the Maiden. She was a healer who used wild herbs, so the forest was a fitting place for her. Several of the local men helped to build her a cabin, and she lived well, the creatures of the forest being her companions. Every so often, a person from the town would visit, requiring her skills. One evening, a young man who had heard of her beauty came to call, for he sought to make her his wife. When he arrived, she was standing nude in the middle of the small pond in which she bathed, for it was summer.”
Here I gestured to the pool I had mentioned, as it remained there.
“For a long while, he stood transfixed by her appearance. She had been speaking, and he of course was too distracted. Finally, her words hit him like a storm. She was praying to a goddess, for aid in healing herself. This confused the man- he could see nothing wrong with her, after all. The fact that she prayed to a goddess caused him no concern, for in our town’s history it is well-known that most of the townsfolk worshipped a deity known to them by the name of Keirien, and he knew that was the identity of the one she prayed to. Eventually she exited the pool, and he realized why she needed healing. Her left foot was twisted at an angle that shouldn’t have been possible, causing her to limp horribly. With every step she took, he could hear a whimper of pain. He made a tiny movement, snapping a twig.
“Juliana spotted him, and it was a long time before either of them said anything. Eventually she said to him, ‘And you are?’, to which he answered, ‘I am… No one of importance.’ A smile crossed her lips and she chuckled. He found the courage to inquire about her foot, causing the smile to fade. She shook her head slowly, bidding him to leave, and moved to dress. He did as asked, but returned the evening after that, to find her missing. So he waited and waited for her to return, when it was finally dawn the next morning, she arrived. His pity had given the goddess energy with which to heal her. The two never married. Juliana, in due time, was said to have become a fairy. Her cabin burned down, and her presence blesses this clearing to this day.”
All-in-all, it was a very pleasant evening. You may be wondering why you needed to know about any of it. That final story, at the very least, becomes very important.
38) He was in fact, so close that I could smell him. It was a wonderful scent.
The next day, just as I had told my friends I was going to, I made my way to the bookstore Curiosity. It had been opened by an old Irishman, Balin Morrigan, when I was ten, and I discovered it the day it came to be. Balin was a sweet old man, almost like a grandfather to me (39). He also had a grandson who ran the store with him, and that was Florian.
When I stepped into the store, the bell over the door rang, and a voice with a heavy accent shouted from the back room, “I’ll be with you in just a moment!”
I smiled a little, making my way to the counter, and pushing my way behind it, to join Florian, only three years my senior, in the back room. His shirt was lying on a chair, and his back gleamed with sweat, understandably, considering he’d been moving boxes, and was in the process of a last one when I entered. There was a joyful gleam in his eyes as he turned to face me, and his flaming hair was sticking up in all directions.
“So,” he said, pushing beyond me to get back up front, grabbing his shirt as he went, “you couldn’t show up earlier and help me move boxes, eh?”
“Well, I hardly knew you were lifting boxes. I would have showed up and hung on your back. Then I would have made you some nice lemonade.”
He groaned. “Oh, yeah. Just what I need. A girl hanging on me while I’m all sweaty and disgusting.”
“You’re not disgusting… But yeah, I don’t think I would have done the hanging part. It may have had less than great results.”
“Amen to that.” Shirt now on, he continued into the aisles of books. “What do you need now? We got a few things in that might interest you…”
Watching him pick through the books, I nodded. “Yes, because you know me so well (40)… I came here with a purpose though. My goal for summer vacation is to at least get the rough draft of a fantasy novel done. But not just any fantasy novel. I want to write the breakthrough book, to get people my age to do a lot of reading. So I need something inspiring.”
“Of course, O Storyteller. We have… Ah! I remember- the book that showed up yesterday might be perfect for you! I’m not sure which of those million or so boxes it’s in, so you may as well wait out here and peruse the stacks.”
It seriously took Florian exactly thirty minutes and fifty seconds to get back- the book must have really been buried. I didn’t ask. Besides, in the time he was away, I discovered seven books that I thought I could use (41).
“Oy, come up here!” he called to me, and I heard him drop something on the counter. It sounded freakishly heavy.
I made my way to his side and stared at the book he’d brought out for me. It was one of those huge, ancient tomes. And it was very dusty. When I first touched it, I felt something almost like static electricity. I flipped it flipped open to a page in the center, and came across a picture of a gryphon on one page, a description of the creature in one of those fancy scripts on the one next to it.
“And you just got this yesterday?”
“Yeah, in a box. We shoved it in the bottom of one of the other boxes we got, and you’re lucky I like you. It took way too much digging.”
“How much is it?”
“We never talked about pricing the new things… It’s old, great condition, high quality from what I’ve looked at, and therefore… Grandfather will murder me if I sell it for less than forty pounds. So that’s your price.”
Normally I didn’t spend that much on a single book, but it wasn’t the first time I would have done it. So, desiring to make my purchase and head home, I shrugged and nodded.
“Fine.”
That visit to the bookstore- the purchase of that particular book… They changed my life.
39) My own grandfather died when I was only a year old, so I didn’t remember him very well.
40) If you think this sounds sarcastic, I apologize. I was serious. He knew me beyond well, though probably not quite to the point where he matched Kai. Florian didn’t have pictures of me on his walls. And he didn’t ask me to fancy events being held by the prime minister…
41) And I was totally relieved that my parents never paid much attention to what I was spending, and gave me whatever I asked for. The total of those seven alone was two-hundred pounds. They were high quality, and quite large. Leave me alone.
It was nine o’clock at night when I opened the large tome. The cover said nothing about an author or a title. This time, I turned to the contents. And again, there was an almost-static feeling to the book that coursed its way through my fingers. I thought I was imagining things.
The book was amazing. I glanced over the listings- Elves, Phaeries and Kin, Dragons, The Pegasus, Unicorns, Winged Myths, Serpentines, and so much more. My eyes were drawn to the final listing, a word I’d never seen before: Klithios. Wondering what I could possibly know nothing about by that point in my life, I flipped through, page by page, until I found the first page.
The static was now obvious. There was a slight pounding in my head, and I made a mental note to go downstairs and take a few painkillers after reading a paragraph or two…
The land of Klithios is a majestic place, with glorious scenery, and a fair bit of history behind it. It is said that its name is always known, never recalled, and protected, though those who do the protecting never realize it. Noevre, a mystic pond-
I closed my eyes tightly. It was suddenly very cold. But the static was so horrible now- I wanted to let go of the page. My hand felt as if it were on fire, and my fingers refused to release their hold. This was not normal. Maybe if I opened my eyes, it would stop.
Believing this with all my heart, I opened my eyes to find that I was not in my room. I was in a complete darkness, with what appeared to be snow falling all around me. The book was still in my hands, and with a scream of fear and shock, I closed it and clutched it to my chest.
It was so cold… And I was falling… I could feel myself falling… Despite the freezing I could feel on my arms and legs, my chest was burning with pain… It was the book, I knew it. I was still falling… I wanted it to stop.
Klithios is in danger…
A voice whispered, in my ear, and all around me. I wanted to scream again, but I couldn’t open my mouth… And even if I could, it was so cold… My teeth were chattering… Wind was whipping around me- and still the snow fell…
Noevre is dark…
The voice spoke again. It was sweet. My fear melted away a little more it spoke, yet I remained petrified. A leaf struck me- where had it come from? Again I closed my eyes. The falling, and the cold, and the voice, and the burning, and the wind, and the leaves, now swirling all around, and the… Was it snow?
Only one…
In my head I was shrieking at the voice to just shut up. As I could say nothing aloud, however, it wasn’t listening. I heard one more thing before the fire, the cold, the falling, the wind, and the leaves combined to drop me into a darkness deeper than anything I’d ever experienced before.
Will save water and the fire… The earth and the air…
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