While "the eyes are the windows to the soul" is widely accepted, I truly believe that poetry is a window into mine.
“Set the world on fire,” he said.
So I did.
I lit the match,
and watched the grasses
catch their last breaths
as the flames
ate away at them.
And I smiled.
I smiled, at what I had done.
I danced in the
ashes of what had been.
I became the glorious Phoenix
on wings of gold
soaring high.
© Kaycee Looney 7/15/00
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Sample chapter part 2 - Light of Avondell
The Byrume lumbered away, snuffling at the air like a beast.
“Did you find it?” the higher pitched voice called out.
“No.”
She waited and listened as they searched for her, never going far from where she hid. Aria closed her eyes. Summoning all the courage in her body she thought about mice, their soft, furry bodies and large keen ears. With a faint glimmer, she crouched upon four delicate paws. Her whiskers and ears twitched as she tested her surroundings. Only her pale eyes, swirling with a rainbow of colors, betrayed that she was not a true mouse. She dashed from her hiding place and into the open, but she’d underestimated her pursuers’ senses.
“There, the mouse!”
The ground shook and branches snapped as they chased her.
She ran faster on four legs than on her usual two and soon widened the gap between them. Again she hid herself. Her heart raced, and her breathing was labored, but she was alive. Concealed in a small clump of ferns, she waited. They were careless, stepping on twigs and scuffing leaves across the forest floor.
The sudden silence made the hairs on her body stand on end. Her flesh tightened with fear, and she felt herself begin to Flicker. The foliage around her started to glow with a pale purple light, soft at first and then bright enough to make her squint. The dewdrops sparkled with rainbows as her concentration broke and her disguise disintegrated.
The snap of twigs and crunch of leaves roared in her ears as they bore down upon her. An obese face, twisted with rage, loomed over her. She crouched, shielding her head with her forearms.
“Inetaus, pryubus, curundei, myanti!”
The spell spilled from her lips in the faintest of whispers, but it was enough. Just as the soil-blackened hands of the Byrume closed around her, Aria was gone.
She opened her eyes a sliver at a time until the forest around her was in full focus. She smoothed her hair with one hand and made a slow turn. The spell had saved her from the Byrumes but it had not taken her home as she intended.
“What went wrong?” she whispered. Now that she was away from the putrid, oily-skinned Byrumes there was time to concentrate. She knelt in the damp moss and breathed in its earthy scent.
The sensation of Transportation was uncomfortable at best. It felt like being pulled apart by scavengers a bit at a time and scattered on the wind. She had learned the spell only two weeks before, and Madame Hekwryn had forbidden her students to use it outside of the classroom until they had mastered it. But she had no choice. Aria focused on The Old One. With her fingers digging into her knees, she said in a firm, steady voice, “Inetaus, pryubus, curundei, myanti.”
This time she didn’t have to open her eyes to know the spell had worked. All around her the sounds of home rang out cheerful, comforting and safe. Hutton hawked his wares as he wheeled his cart up and down the tree’s strong limbs. A group of youngsters giggled and screeched as they raced past her in an energetic game of Pintelle. She remembered her own younger years spent doing the same. When she had the Pintelle in her hand and Sarshyn held the Goffer, they were unstoppable.
Sarshyn.
He would be worried. In a moment of spitefulness she almost decided to let him fret for a while longer, but instead made her way back to the Western Branch. He was waiting for her on the stairs leading to the next level. His glow brightened, and he leapt to his feet.
“Why did you actually go out there? Are you alright?”
Aria stopped a few steps away and swept a few strands of hair off of her face. “I’m fine. Two Byrumes saw me, but I used the Transportation spell to escape.”
“You really are insane, aren’t you?” he asked giving her a hug, then grasped her shoulders and held her at arm’s length. “Don’t ever do that again.”
She was too relieved by her escape to be angry with him. The pure joy and relief in his honey-gold eyes made her soften even further. “Agreed, as long as you don’t question my character.”
Sarshyn shook his head and grinned. “You’re impossible.”
“And so are you, that’s why we make such a good pair.”
They walked together as far as the granary.
“I’ll see you in the morning for sword training,” she said as he ducked inside.
“I’ll be by to pick you up after breakfast, as usual.” With a wave he disappeared from view.
Aria dawdled on her way home.
Butternut oil lamps flickered in mainrooms, casting their light over dining tables laden with evening meals. Entry stones, flat and polished from Rings of use, were swept clean and awaited the arrivals of their masters and mistresses.
Korynna lived in the cottage with the sky-blue door. The house with the beautifully carved windowsills belonged to Harkinn and his wife Albianne. They expected their first child within the week. Moordecai and his brother, Ismial, shared the house next door. It always smelled of bainberry leaf smoke and pickled needlenuts. She paused to peep in at Gemella and Rees as they danced together without any music. When Rees noticed her, he winked and grinned. Embarrassed, Aria’s glow flushed a deep magenta, and she scurried away. Her home was just up ahead.
Smoke curled from the riverstone chimney. The sun’s rays sifted through the branches and splashed across the thick sod roof. Father believed that thatching was a fire hazard and wooden shingles were far too pricey. She’d grown to love the soft green of it, which her mother tended to with her knowledge of plant magic. The simple boards of the outer walls had silvered with age. In certain light they glimmered like her father’s hair.
She heaved a huge sigh. It would take an imaginative excuse to keep her from punishment this time. Her clothes were smeared with mud; the left leg of her trousers was torn from knee to ankle. They had been her last unpatched pair. Mama would be furious. She hesitated on the entry stone, took a deep breath and pulled the handle down. The door swung inward and the warmth of the room washed over her. Aria hadn’t realized how tired she was until that moment.
At the sound of the door, her mother, Asym, turned away from the stove. When she saw the state of her daughter’s clothing, the welcoming smile on her delicate face turned to a scowl, and the pale emerald glow around her lithe frame darkened.
“What have you done now?”
She’d decided upon the perfect lie on her way home, so without faltering, Aria looked her mother in the eye and said, “I was playing Pintelle with some of the youngsters and fell from one of the lower branches.”
She was too old for children’s games so she held her breath as Mama crossed the room and took her chin between her pine-scented hands.
“Are you hurt?”
Somehow she managed to shake her head no with her face sandwiched between Mama’s strong hands.
“Thank Lady Livnia you’re alright,” she whispered clutching Aria to her breast.
The genuine concern in her mother’s leaf-green eyes as she fussed over her made Aria feel a twinge of guilt; Mama’s earth Guide made her steady and calm, except when it came to her only child.
“No, I’m fine, but I ruined my trousers. I’m sorry.”
“Trousers,” her mother snorted, “you think I’d be concerned over the state of your trousers when you might have been killed?” She was ushering Aria toward the bathing room, “Go wash up and put on some clean clothes. I’ll fix your trousers tomorrow.”
“Did you find it?” the higher pitched voice called out.
“No.”
She waited and listened as they searched for her, never going far from where she hid. Aria closed her eyes. Summoning all the courage in her body she thought about mice, their soft, furry bodies and large keen ears. With a faint glimmer, she crouched upon four delicate paws. Her whiskers and ears twitched as she tested her surroundings. Only her pale eyes, swirling with a rainbow of colors, betrayed that she was not a true mouse. She dashed from her hiding place and into the open, but she’d underestimated her pursuers’ senses.
“There, the mouse!”
The ground shook and branches snapped as they chased her.
She ran faster on four legs than on her usual two and soon widened the gap between them. Again she hid herself. Her heart raced, and her breathing was labored, but she was alive. Concealed in a small clump of ferns, she waited. They were careless, stepping on twigs and scuffing leaves across the forest floor.
The sudden silence made the hairs on her body stand on end. Her flesh tightened with fear, and she felt herself begin to Flicker. The foliage around her started to glow with a pale purple light, soft at first and then bright enough to make her squint. The dewdrops sparkled with rainbows as her concentration broke and her disguise disintegrated.
The snap of twigs and crunch of leaves roared in her ears as they bore down upon her. An obese face, twisted with rage, loomed over her. She crouched, shielding her head with her forearms.
“Inetaus, pryubus, curundei, myanti!”
The spell spilled from her lips in the faintest of whispers, but it was enough. Just as the soil-blackened hands of the Byrume closed around her, Aria was gone.
She opened her eyes a sliver at a time until the forest around her was in full focus. She smoothed her hair with one hand and made a slow turn. The spell had saved her from the Byrumes but it had not taken her home as she intended.
“What went wrong?” she whispered. Now that she was away from the putrid, oily-skinned Byrumes there was time to concentrate. She knelt in the damp moss and breathed in its earthy scent.
The sensation of Transportation was uncomfortable at best. It felt like being pulled apart by scavengers a bit at a time and scattered on the wind. She had learned the spell only two weeks before, and Madame Hekwryn had forbidden her students to use it outside of the classroom until they had mastered it. But she had no choice. Aria focused on The Old One. With her fingers digging into her knees, she said in a firm, steady voice, “Inetaus, pryubus, curundei, myanti.”
This time she didn’t have to open her eyes to know the spell had worked. All around her the sounds of home rang out cheerful, comforting and safe. Hutton hawked his wares as he wheeled his cart up and down the tree’s strong limbs. A group of youngsters giggled and screeched as they raced past her in an energetic game of Pintelle. She remembered her own younger years spent doing the same. When she had the Pintelle in her hand and Sarshyn held the Goffer, they were unstoppable.
Sarshyn.
He would be worried. In a moment of spitefulness she almost decided to let him fret for a while longer, but instead made her way back to the Western Branch. He was waiting for her on the stairs leading to the next level. His glow brightened, and he leapt to his feet.
“Why did you actually go out there? Are you alright?”
Aria stopped a few steps away and swept a few strands of hair off of her face. “I’m fine. Two Byrumes saw me, but I used the Transportation spell to escape.”
“You really are insane, aren’t you?” he asked giving her a hug, then grasped her shoulders and held her at arm’s length. “Don’t ever do that again.”
She was too relieved by her escape to be angry with him. The pure joy and relief in his honey-gold eyes made her soften even further. “Agreed, as long as you don’t question my character.”
Sarshyn shook his head and grinned. “You’re impossible.”
“And so are you, that’s why we make such a good pair.”
They walked together as far as the granary.
“I’ll see you in the morning for sword training,” she said as he ducked inside.
“I’ll be by to pick you up after breakfast, as usual.” With a wave he disappeared from view.
Aria dawdled on her way home.
Butternut oil lamps flickered in mainrooms, casting their light over dining tables laden with evening meals. Entry stones, flat and polished from Rings of use, were swept clean and awaited the arrivals of their masters and mistresses.
Korynna lived in the cottage with the sky-blue door. The house with the beautifully carved windowsills belonged to Harkinn and his wife Albianne. They expected their first child within the week. Moordecai and his brother, Ismial, shared the house next door. It always smelled of bainberry leaf smoke and pickled needlenuts. She paused to peep in at Gemella and Rees as they danced together without any music. When Rees noticed her, he winked and grinned. Embarrassed, Aria’s glow flushed a deep magenta, and she scurried away. Her home was just up ahead.
Smoke curled from the riverstone chimney. The sun’s rays sifted through the branches and splashed across the thick sod roof. Father believed that thatching was a fire hazard and wooden shingles were far too pricey. She’d grown to love the soft green of it, which her mother tended to with her knowledge of plant magic. The simple boards of the outer walls had silvered with age. In certain light they glimmered like her father’s hair.
She heaved a huge sigh. It would take an imaginative excuse to keep her from punishment this time. Her clothes were smeared with mud; the left leg of her trousers was torn from knee to ankle. They had been her last unpatched pair. Mama would be furious. She hesitated on the entry stone, took a deep breath and pulled the handle down. The door swung inward and the warmth of the room washed over her. Aria hadn’t realized how tired she was until that moment.
At the sound of the door, her mother, Asym, turned away from the stove. When she saw the state of her daughter’s clothing, the welcoming smile on her delicate face turned to a scowl, and the pale emerald glow around her lithe frame darkened.
“What have you done now?”
She’d decided upon the perfect lie on her way home, so without faltering, Aria looked her mother in the eye and said, “I was playing Pintelle with some of the youngsters and fell from one of the lower branches.”
She was too old for children’s games so she held her breath as Mama crossed the room and took her chin between her pine-scented hands.
“Are you hurt?”
Somehow she managed to shake her head no with her face sandwiched between Mama’s strong hands.
“Thank Lady Livnia you’re alright,” she whispered clutching Aria to her breast.
The genuine concern in her mother’s leaf-green eyes as she fussed over her made Aria feel a twinge of guilt; Mama’s earth Guide made her steady and calm, except when it came to her only child.
“No, I’m fine, but I ruined my trousers. I’m sorry.”
“Trousers,” her mother snorted, “you think I’d be concerned over the state of your trousers when you might have been killed?” She was ushering Aria toward the bathing room, “Go wash up and put on some clean clothes. I’ll fix your trousers tomorrow.”
Friday, January 9, 2009
Sample chapter - Light of Avondell
The idea for my first complete manuscript came to me in a flash of inspiration. I was brainstorming for a short story idea as a distraction from my writing project at the time. An image popped into my head and it was the first time I'd gotten a story idea in the form of a crystal clear scene. I decided to expand it, and voila! Aria was born. So, without further ado, here is the first half of chapter one.
Light of Avondell
© 2008 Kaycee A. Looney
Chapter 1 – Close Call
Sarshyn started it.
On the way home after sword training, he poked an orange elbow into Aria’s ribs. “I bet we’re ready to join the army don’t you?” He swished his sword in a crazy series of swirls and zigzags that made no real defense or attack, and she laughed.
“Not with sword play like that. Besides, these practice blades aren’t even sharp.”
He pretended to pout. “You always spoil my fun.”
Aria grinned and brought her sword down on his wrist with a loud smack. His glow flashed a deep red and returned to its usual shade of sunset orange as he rubbed the welt she left behind.
“If you really wish to fight, then I challenge you to a duel!” she said in her best impression of their swordplay instructor, and stepped back. Settling her weight evenly on both feet, she brought her sword up as Kyrlan had taught them, and waited for Sarshyn’s response. He mirrored her stance.
“I accept, and the winner decides the loser’s punishment.”
His fire Guide made him easier to upset than Duendes Guided by earth, water or wind and Aria took advantage of that more often than she should have. It was always fun to antagonize him. She knew the look in his golden eyes; he was angry, but she stood her ground as he advanced. Little wisps of crimson that matched his hair sliced through the orange glow around his lean body as he raised his sword.
They battled in silence on The Old One’s wide, smooth branch. The only sound was the clinking of metal upon metal as their swords crossed again and again. He feinted left, and she moved to block him, but he thrust forward instead. The tip of his sword sunk into the soft flesh of her stomach a little harder than necessary.
“I acknowledge your victory.” Suppressing a grimace of pain, Aria bowed in the traditional pose of defeat with her arms perpendicular to her sides and her ankles crossed, left over right. When she met his eyes again, the anger was replaced by his usual mischievousness.
“I have the perfect punishment for you.” He smiled and slipped the sword into his belt. “You have to go west.”
Laughter spluttered out between her teeth as she clenched her sides to try and squelch it. He couldn’t be serious. Every Duende knew it was foolish and forbidden to go beyond the borders of their own land. Within Avondell King Atrian’s magic was able to protect them, but once a Duende was outside the reach of his enchantment they were in great danger. Did he want her to get eaten by a Byrume? After a few minutes she regained her composure and looked at him again. His face was placid and a little annoyed.
“You can’t mean that.” She stepped closer and laid her hand on his warm arm.
He shrugged away, “If you’re afraid, that’s alright. I mean, you are a girl.”
She felt the blood rush to her face, and the soft purple light wavering upon her lavender skin flashed a blinding white. “I’m not a coward, and you know it, Sarshyn!” She flicked her long, sapphire hair over her shoulder and stalked away with her best friend close at her heels.
They passed the granary with its expensive shingled roof. Hutton was hauling a large cottonflower cloth sack into the storeroom, sweat poured down his broad, bare shoulders. The scent of fresh-baked bread flowed over them through the bakery’s open door. The baker’s wife, Galinia, was placing the last few rolls onto her husband’s cart before he began his afternoon selling route. She wiped her pale blue hands on her yellow dress, smiled and waved to them.
“Where are you off to in such a hurry little Shifty One?”
“Nowhere,” Aria snapped. She hated that nickname. Being born a Shifter wasn’t something she’d asked for.
“Sorry we can’t stop and chat,” Sarshyn apologized as he jogged to catch up to her again. “That was rude,” he whispered.
“I don’t care.” She could feel her anger bubbling inside her, like lava threatening to burst from a volcano. Being ruled by all four Duendean Guides instead of just one was never easy, but her fire Guide was the most difficult to control. If he said one more word she wasn’t sure what she’d do.
Dodging youngsters and adults going about their daily routines, the two of them continued past the simple board and thatch houses until they reached the lowest branch on the west side of The Old One.
Today Burz and her cousin Fyn were on watch. If Fyn saw her that would be the end of it, he would tell her father. Shuddering at the thought of how he might punish her, she pressed her body against the smooth bark of the ancient tree’s trunk and held her breath. But she wasn’t going to let Sarshyn win.
“You don’t really have to,” he whispered, clutching at her shoulder. “I was onl–”
“Shut up! I’m going.” She knew when she was really angry, her eyes Shifted color and it scared him. Aria imagined they were melting between fiery orange and blood red. It made her feel a little better.
There was one way that she could be certain Fyn wouldn’t see her. Well, at least he wouldn’t know it was her he was seeing. Sarshyn was the only one who knew about this aspect of her Shifting ability. With her eyes closed, Aria concentrated. In a flash of soft white light, she was a small brown lizard with a pale blue stripe down its back. Sarshyn sucked air through his teeth, and his eyes lost their fire. She flicked out her pink lizard tongue and licked her right eyeball, then winked at him.
He shook his head from side to side. “Aria, don’t you could get –”
But she heard no more of his protest; she was scurrying headfirst down the weathered trunk. Dry leaves crackled beneath her cool lizard toes as she slid to the ground.
“It’s just a lizard, Burz. Go back to your post.” Fyn called from overhead.
With a smug flick of her tail, Aria scuttled across the forest floor and out of sight beneath some bainberry bushes. Once it was safe, she relinquished her disguise and crept through the undergrowth with as much stealth as she could. The air was suffocating amongst the close-growing clumps of brush.
“Sarshyn, idiot,” she mumbled parting the fronds of a fiddlehead fern with her hands. “I’ll show him who’s a girl.”
They both knew being female didn’t make her any less worthy. Yet somehow, when he insinuated that it did, she rose to the challenge. It had been that way since they were just youngsters. He teased her. She reacted. But she had to admit it worked both ways.
As they’d gotten older, the challenge had become more like a joke, but not this time. She was seventeen Rings old, but he always knew how to get under her skin. There was no other Duende on the entire planet of Eldunom who could irritate her so easily. So now here she was tromping through the forest without any purpose or protection even though she was quite old enough to know better.
Aria paused to wipe a sweaty lock of azure hair from her cheek, turning to look over her shoulder as she did. The Old One no longer loomed above the undergrowth. She’d proven her point. It was time to go home. All she had to do was follow her back trail and she would be at the base of the great tree in no time. Only there was no back trail to follow. The path she’d pushed aside in the dense vegetation had sprung back to its original place, leaving no sign that she had passed. Her light wavered.
Scanning the ferns and grasses nearby for any bruising or breakage, she waded into the greenery and leaned close to inspect the individual blades. Off to her right, she heard voices. They were coming closer.
Aria crouched low to the ground.
“I tell you I smell one of those Duendes. It’s close.”
A second voice, higher in pitch but with more authority answered, “You’re imagining things. If there were one Duende, there’d be at least a hundred, and we’d both smell’em. They always travel in swarms like bugs.”
In spite of her mounting panic, that gave her an idea. She thought about dragonflies and saw herself soaring into the sky unnoticed. But before she could Shift one of the Byrumes took a step closer. She flashed blue with terror.
“There! Did you see that?” the first one shouted. “I told you there was a Duende here!”
Then she was running. It didn’t matter in which direction, as long as she kept moving. Aria sped through the forest. She was alone, without a weapon, and if they caught her, there was no hope of rescue. She didn’t see the bainberry bush until it was too late.
The thorns tore at her hair, skin and clothes. The brush snapped as they lumbered toward her. She jerked her leg free and heard the distinct rip of fabric as her trouser leg split. Then she was running again. Stalks of asucarr and whips of firenettle slapped her face, but her mind was filled with stories her twin cousins, Fyn and Gynn, had told her about Byrumes.
They’re fifty lengths tall with long scraggly hair that’s so dirty, it’s green with mold and slime, Gynn’s musical, lilting voice tittered in her brain.
They have six rows of razor sharp teeth and hooked noses so they can smell us better in the underbrush, Fyn laughed. Byrumes use the oil off their skin for cooking their food, and if they catch you, you’re sure to be on the menu.
Aria used to think they were making up the stories just to see if they could scare her. She glanced over her shoulder and saw a shiny pink face crowned with green slimy hair peering into the bushes less than twenty lengths from her. She huddled beneath a leaf and tried to make the light on her skin as dim as possible. Panic fluttered at the back of her throat, tickling like a spider’s web as she tried to slow her breathing. The Byrume lumbered away, snuffling at the air like a beast.
Light of Avondell
© 2008 Kaycee A. Looney
Chapter 1 – Close Call
Sarshyn started it.
On the way home after sword training, he poked an orange elbow into Aria’s ribs. “I bet we’re ready to join the army don’t you?” He swished his sword in a crazy series of swirls and zigzags that made no real defense or attack, and she laughed.
“Not with sword play like that. Besides, these practice blades aren’t even sharp.”
He pretended to pout. “You always spoil my fun.”
Aria grinned and brought her sword down on his wrist with a loud smack. His glow flashed a deep red and returned to its usual shade of sunset orange as he rubbed the welt she left behind.
“If you really wish to fight, then I challenge you to a duel!” she said in her best impression of their swordplay instructor, and stepped back. Settling her weight evenly on both feet, she brought her sword up as Kyrlan had taught them, and waited for Sarshyn’s response. He mirrored her stance.
“I accept, and the winner decides the loser’s punishment.”
His fire Guide made him easier to upset than Duendes Guided by earth, water or wind and Aria took advantage of that more often than she should have. It was always fun to antagonize him. She knew the look in his golden eyes; he was angry, but she stood her ground as he advanced. Little wisps of crimson that matched his hair sliced through the orange glow around his lean body as he raised his sword.
They battled in silence on The Old One’s wide, smooth branch. The only sound was the clinking of metal upon metal as their swords crossed again and again. He feinted left, and she moved to block him, but he thrust forward instead. The tip of his sword sunk into the soft flesh of her stomach a little harder than necessary.
“I acknowledge your victory.” Suppressing a grimace of pain, Aria bowed in the traditional pose of defeat with her arms perpendicular to her sides and her ankles crossed, left over right. When she met his eyes again, the anger was replaced by his usual mischievousness.
“I have the perfect punishment for you.” He smiled and slipped the sword into his belt. “You have to go west.”
Laughter spluttered out between her teeth as she clenched her sides to try and squelch it. He couldn’t be serious. Every Duende knew it was foolish and forbidden to go beyond the borders of their own land. Within Avondell King Atrian’s magic was able to protect them, but once a Duende was outside the reach of his enchantment they were in great danger. Did he want her to get eaten by a Byrume? After a few minutes she regained her composure and looked at him again. His face was placid and a little annoyed.
“You can’t mean that.” She stepped closer and laid her hand on his warm arm.
He shrugged away, “If you’re afraid, that’s alright. I mean, you are a girl.”
She felt the blood rush to her face, and the soft purple light wavering upon her lavender skin flashed a blinding white. “I’m not a coward, and you know it, Sarshyn!” She flicked her long, sapphire hair over her shoulder and stalked away with her best friend close at her heels.
They passed the granary with its expensive shingled roof. Hutton was hauling a large cottonflower cloth sack into the storeroom, sweat poured down his broad, bare shoulders. The scent of fresh-baked bread flowed over them through the bakery’s open door. The baker’s wife, Galinia, was placing the last few rolls onto her husband’s cart before he began his afternoon selling route. She wiped her pale blue hands on her yellow dress, smiled and waved to them.
“Where are you off to in such a hurry little Shifty One?”
“Nowhere,” Aria snapped. She hated that nickname. Being born a Shifter wasn’t something she’d asked for.
“Sorry we can’t stop and chat,” Sarshyn apologized as he jogged to catch up to her again. “That was rude,” he whispered.
“I don’t care.” She could feel her anger bubbling inside her, like lava threatening to burst from a volcano. Being ruled by all four Duendean Guides instead of just one was never easy, but her fire Guide was the most difficult to control. If he said one more word she wasn’t sure what she’d do.
Dodging youngsters and adults going about their daily routines, the two of them continued past the simple board and thatch houses until they reached the lowest branch on the west side of The Old One.
Today Burz and her cousin Fyn were on watch. If Fyn saw her that would be the end of it, he would tell her father. Shuddering at the thought of how he might punish her, she pressed her body against the smooth bark of the ancient tree’s trunk and held her breath. But she wasn’t going to let Sarshyn win.
“You don’t really have to,” he whispered, clutching at her shoulder. “I was onl–”
“Shut up! I’m going.” She knew when she was really angry, her eyes Shifted color and it scared him. Aria imagined they were melting between fiery orange and blood red. It made her feel a little better.
There was one way that she could be certain Fyn wouldn’t see her. Well, at least he wouldn’t know it was her he was seeing. Sarshyn was the only one who knew about this aspect of her Shifting ability. With her eyes closed, Aria concentrated. In a flash of soft white light, she was a small brown lizard with a pale blue stripe down its back. Sarshyn sucked air through his teeth, and his eyes lost their fire. She flicked out her pink lizard tongue and licked her right eyeball, then winked at him.
He shook his head from side to side. “Aria, don’t you could get –”
But she heard no more of his protest; she was scurrying headfirst down the weathered trunk. Dry leaves crackled beneath her cool lizard toes as she slid to the ground.
“It’s just a lizard, Burz. Go back to your post.” Fyn called from overhead.
With a smug flick of her tail, Aria scuttled across the forest floor and out of sight beneath some bainberry bushes. Once it was safe, she relinquished her disguise and crept through the undergrowth with as much stealth as she could. The air was suffocating amongst the close-growing clumps of brush.
“Sarshyn, idiot,” she mumbled parting the fronds of a fiddlehead fern with her hands. “I’ll show him who’s a girl.”
They both knew being female didn’t make her any less worthy. Yet somehow, when he insinuated that it did, she rose to the challenge. It had been that way since they were just youngsters. He teased her. She reacted. But she had to admit it worked both ways.
As they’d gotten older, the challenge had become more like a joke, but not this time. She was seventeen Rings old, but he always knew how to get under her skin. There was no other Duende on the entire planet of Eldunom who could irritate her so easily. So now here she was tromping through the forest without any purpose or protection even though she was quite old enough to know better.
Aria paused to wipe a sweaty lock of azure hair from her cheek, turning to look over her shoulder as she did. The Old One no longer loomed above the undergrowth. She’d proven her point. It was time to go home. All she had to do was follow her back trail and she would be at the base of the great tree in no time. Only there was no back trail to follow. The path she’d pushed aside in the dense vegetation had sprung back to its original place, leaving no sign that she had passed. Her light wavered.
Scanning the ferns and grasses nearby for any bruising or breakage, she waded into the greenery and leaned close to inspect the individual blades. Off to her right, she heard voices. They were coming closer.
Aria crouched low to the ground.
“I tell you I smell one of those Duendes. It’s close.”
A second voice, higher in pitch but with more authority answered, “You’re imagining things. If there were one Duende, there’d be at least a hundred, and we’d both smell’em. They always travel in swarms like bugs.”
In spite of her mounting panic, that gave her an idea. She thought about dragonflies and saw herself soaring into the sky unnoticed. But before she could Shift one of the Byrumes took a step closer. She flashed blue with terror.
“There! Did you see that?” the first one shouted. “I told you there was a Duende here!”
Then she was running. It didn’t matter in which direction, as long as she kept moving. Aria sped through the forest. She was alone, without a weapon, and if they caught her, there was no hope of rescue. She didn’t see the bainberry bush until it was too late.
The thorns tore at her hair, skin and clothes. The brush snapped as they lumbered toward her. She jerked her leg free and heard the distinct rip of fabric as her trouser leg split. Then she was running again. Stalks of asucarr and whips of firenettle slapped her face, but her mind was filled with stories her twin cousins, Fyn and Gynn, had told her about Byrumes.
They’re fifty lengths tall with long scraggly hair that’s so dirty, it’s green with mold and slime, Gynn’s musical, lilting voice tittered in her brain.
They have six rows of razor sharp teeth and hooked noses so they can smell us better in the underbrush, Fyn laughed. Byrumes use the oil off their skin for cooking their food, and if they catch you, you’re sure to be on the menu.
Aria used to think they were making up the stories just to see if they could scare her. She glanced over her shoulder and saw a shiny pink face crowned with green slimy hair peering into the bushes less than twenty lengths from her. She huddled beneath a leaf and tried to make the light on her skin as dim as possible. Panic fluttered at the back of her throat, tickling like a spider’s web as she tried to slow her breathing. The Byrume lumbered away, snuffling at the air like a beast.
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