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.
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