Journey To The Forest

  Journey To The Forest

  * * *

  Soulyte Book 1

  Eve Hathaway

  Journey To The Forest

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

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  Prologue

  “PLEASE, you can't die…”

  Madala was a large island country, covered in mountains, plains, and forests. To walk from the southern to the northern point takes approximately two weeks without stopping to rest. There are several cities along the southern coast where the shoreline offers opportunity for trade. Other cities and small towns are scattered in the fields of the country’s center, rich in agriculture. To the north, cliffs line the ocean, making it almost impenetrable to attacks from invaders. The Forest of the north spans a little under a hundred miles, hiding various abandoned castles that had been left in the early centuries of the land.

  Over time, witches had been driven off by the invading humans and civil wars raged. The witches fled to the Forest where they could practice their dark magic in peace.

  It was not uncommon to stumble upon magic in the land of Madala. Magical artifacts and creatures were sold in the markets. Those who have or practice magic could be anyone from street performers to politicians. Magical energy flowed almost like a river from the depths of the Madalan Forest where its source was the creatures that have rested for countless centuries even before the time of humans.

  To help the inhabitants of Madala who had come to the island country to better understand magic, three books were created by the ancient witches who had long since disappeared. The more common of thinkers referred to these books as the Book of Birth, the Book of Life, and the Book of Death.

  Throughout the centuries, all but one of these books left the island country as they were passed back and forth between the hands of sorcerers, warriors, and kings by war’s end. The remaining book, the Book of Life, remained safely in the hands of a young witch by the name of Abrielle.

  The witch had come to the country of Madala as a human and had taken an apprenticeship with an ancient sorceress. She received the Book from the sorceress to guard and learn from. To gain immortality, a dragon had come to her and agreed to share his soul with her in exchange for her love.

  She contained the proof of their bond in a small stone which she kept at her breast. There it shone a brilliant red, beating in time with her heart. It bound him to her for the rest of their lives as described in the ancient Book and allowed her use of his magic after years of companionship. They spent the centuries together. While she kept his soul and shared his magic, the dragon remained in the form of a human to stay as close to her as he could. Abrielle studied in the Book each day, learning more and more about the secrets of life.

  To keep the Book safe, the witch Abrielle remained in the very northern point of Madala, nestled in the Forest where blizzards and dangerous creatures would deter anyone from finding her or her beloved.

  All except those who were most determined.

  Blood stained the man’s fingers as he tries to cover the wound on his love’s chest. The light of colored stone of crimson at Abrielle’s breast flickered dimly. The witch’s pulse slowed and the final breath of life slipped from her lips.

  The humans had somehow made their way to the northern castle and had fired their bows at the witch. The man roared to the sky. Why hadn’t he been there? Rage flashed in his red eyes and he let her fall gently to the snow frosted stone. With another roar, leather wings burst from his back and his body contorted and grew. In his place stood a giant dragon, his scales as red as the fallen blood. He spread his terrible wings and took off into the sky, searching for those who had murdered his love.

  Trees burned into ash and the flames licked at the singed ground. The bodies of the hunters were reduced to nothing and smoke filled the sky so that nothing could be seen. They never had the chance to see the dragon coming before they were burned.

  The witch had lived for countless years, so why had she been destroyed by a single shot of an arrow was a mystery. She may have not aged but in the end, she was still human. She was still mortal. She could die just as easily as any other.

  The dragon flew back to the castle, snow and smoke burning his eyes as he crashed to the stone balcony over the sea raging a hundred feet below. Her body was still there, eyelashes flecked with ice. Her red-brown hair blew around her face in the gust from the dragon’s wings. Her lips, once tinted pink and always pulled back into a smile were now tinted blue with no hint of life behind them. The book was open beside her, pages flipping in the wind.

  The dragon curled its claws around the Book, piercing the tome. The secrets of life had been completely useless. No matter how much she had learned, the witch had been helpless against man. She had given the humans the secrets of sharing the souls of magical creatures, allowing them to extend their own power in what they referred to as “Soulytes.”

  But they had shown no gratitude—or maybe they had just forgotten over the centuries—and had sent out their hunters to destroy the witches of the Forest.

  The book shuddered in his grasp, a strange energy pouring from it as his claws dug deeper and deeper. He released his grip and darkness pooled from the bores, soaking the snow in inky black. The life was draining from it, spreading its very death into the snow and stone and trees, staining everything the deepest black.

  The dragon tossed the book aside, where the falling snow turned black upon touch. He curled around the witch, his enormous body keeping her body warm with his inner fire. He watched as the black crept to the Forest and soon everything he could see was engulfed in darkness.

  Chapter One

  Market

  CITY OF KINSWICK was bustling with far too many people than the small city could handle. The sun was high in the sky as Residents and visitors alike squeezed and slid against each other in the tight confines of the market in the town square. Despite the limited space, children weaved and wriggled their way through the mess of legs and limbs, nearly tripping up several angry shoppers. Women with arms laden with heavy baskets of produce yelled at each other across the way, negotiating their sales over the noisy din. The air smelled of sweat, meats, fish, bread, and spice.

  Panic and tension hummed throughout the crowd as people were stocking up on food in an absolute frenzy due to the impending famine. But for every purchase of the necessary staples, the good citizens of Kinswick bought charms and talismans as well.

  Good luck, protection, and prosperity charms were certainly in high demand. Every amulet and magical item was being snapped up as fast as these old wizards could make them.

  It would seem that the food shortage and scarcity of resources had put everyone on edge and made them superstitious.

  However there were still some who were less concerned with the gravity of events and instead more preoccupied with other interests.

  A young man scanned the various counters and displays of the market. He was a tall lad, barely out of his teens but had the body that told of long hours with an axe and woods. His face had that beguiling look associated with handsomeness and naivete. He clearly was from one of the back-end farm villages. He was dressed in a blue tunic and pants with a brown leather vest layered over it. A brown belt encircled his waist, keeping his sheathed sword fast to his side. Around his neck was a thin chain that led towards a pendant that lay hidden under the collar of his tunic.

  He reached up to comb his fingers through the unruly mop of black hair in a weak attempt to tame it
into submission. He should have cut it shorter, but when he learned that he was going to come here, there was nothing else that occupied his mind but his mission.

  As he wandered down the path lined with stalls, he found himself gawking at a booth that held a bright display of faeries. Against the walls of the tent were shelves that carried jars upon jars of the glittering creatures. The boy took a quick look around and found the stall’s shopkeeper busy with haggling with another customer. Encouraged by the lack of attention directed at him, along with his growing curiosity, the boy inched towards one of the shelves. Upon closer inspection, he found that each jar contained a quiet sprite sitting patiently at the bottom of their glass jar, their chins resting on the tops of the knees that they hugged closely to their chests. Their glittering, translucent wings were folded around them.

  The boy picked up one of the jars and examined it. The fairy inside straightened up and fluttered its wings. It put its hands on the glass to stare back at the boy.

  All the faeries looked similar; the boy wondered. All of them had the same glowing pearly skin that looked like it was lit from within. Their shimmering bodies seemed to be made of nothing but light shaped into some humanoid creature.

  They had no clothes, no hair, no defining features that helped one tell them apart—but all of them were undoubtedly beautiful. But their lights flickered dully inside the glass. Maybe it was because of their captivity? He suddenly felt pity for the poor fairies.

  “See anything you like, young master?”

  The boy jumped at the voice, nearly dropping the jar that he was inspecting. He scrambled to return to replace the jar and ended up shoving it roughly back with the other items with more force than he had intended, cringing at the thought of rattling the little fairy inside it more.

  Then he found himself looking up at a tall, bald man wearing sleeveless dust-colored tunic. The shopkeeper looked like he had seen his fair share of battles, judging from the pale scars that ran down the length of his muscled arms.

  The older man stood with his arms crossed, looking down at the awkward youngster with amusement.

  “You got a name, young man?” the shopkeeper asked, trying to put him at ease.

  “C-Cyrus,” the boy stammered. Hadn't he told himself that to be a hero, he had to overcome this terrible shyess that had plaqued him his whole life? What would he do when he was faced with a woman next time? “I, um, was just looking at some of your m-merchandise,” he said weakly. Cyrus swallowed but managed to croak out, “I am, um, a... a…”

  “Let me guess,” the man chuckled, slapping a hand on Cyrus' shoulder, causing him to flinch. “You look like a Hero-in-training to me. And,” The bald-headed merchant sized Cyrus up, “You look like you’re on your first big journey of discovery.” The shopkeeper made a sweeping gesture while he continued, “Brand-new, unused sword, no Soulyte match, that look of uncertainty in your eyes... I see kids like you every day.”

  Cyrus ran a hand over the hilt of his sword. Was it so obvious that he had never used it?

  It had been a farewell present from his parents so he thought he’d save it for an absolute emergency. It was too precious to be scuffed in something meaningless.

  “So,” the merchant continued, “I believe I may at be able to sell you something useful, Sir Hero.” He grabbed a random jar from a nearby shelf and held it up. “I saw you looking at my fine collection of faeries earlier. Perhaps we can find you a Soulyte match.”

  The young man’s eyes lit up. “Yes! Let’s do that!” Cyrus exclaimed as he took a chain from around his neck and pulled out a pendant from beneath his tunic. He then held the round amethyst crystal in his upturned palm. The gem glowed faintly with swirling colors of dark and light purple and light amethyst.

  The merchant set the jar back in its place and gestured towards the rest of the display.

  “Test them out, Sir Hero-to-be. My shop is at your disposal. Just think of the possibilities!”

  And with that, the shopkeeper turned to attend to another customer.

  With their mysterious powers, Faeries were one of the very few creatures that could act as a Soulyte match. Their most prominent ability, teleportation, has proven to be very useful to many a hero or hero-in-training in getting them out of unsavory situations, not to mention, getting around the vast land of Madala.

  Of course, there was a matter of actually finding them. Some people were either lucky enough to secure one on their own or to at least find a merchant skilled enough to have captured some and buy it off of them instead.

  Soulyte matches were loyal to their human masters, assisting with magic and acting as trusty travel companions. It was rather difficult to find a match however, as there were hundreds, even thousands, of Soulytes.

  Cyrus had already been to multiple markets throughout the land with no luck. He had never heard of a Hero without a Soulyte match, so he felt that it was his duty to keep searching until he found one.

  He held out his crystal close to a jar and the faerie inside it stood up and stared into the swirl of colors. Slowly, the faerie's constant white glow gradually turned to a vivid red. Cyrus shook his head and pulled his Soulyte away. Wrong color. Red signified that it was no match. he must find a fairy who could exude lavender to a dark violet hue.

  There were still a couple of shelves to try so he moved to the next one.

  The next faerie turned neon blue with fringes of green when presented with the crystal. After that, he encountered a golden one, then a sea-green one, and then a blood-red, and an orange one. But nit a hint of purple yet.

  Cyrus went through several more, making it halfway through the second to the last shelf before the merchant stopped him.

  “I might be able to direct you to another shop in the neighboring city,” the man said gently. “I don't think I have any faeries of your color. The rest in this row are just blues and a silver.”

  Cyrus groaned. “Are you sure?” he persisted.

  “Well, you're welcome to try. But that one doesn't even light,” said the shopkeeper, pointing to the jar in Cyrus’ hand.

  The young man peered into the glass only to find the faerie shooting him a nasty glare. He took himself back. But he was already here, and it would be worth a try...

  He then held up his Soulyte closer to the jar but the faerie refused to cooperate, whipping its head away from the crystal’s light.

  The merchant laughed. “That's a stubborn one alright,” he said. “Haven't gotten it to light up for anyone yet. Most faeries I know can't control their Soulyte, but this one certainly tries.”

  Cyrus refused to give up. He cajoled the little fairy like a child. “Come on, faerie. At least take a look at it,” Cyrus urged. "It's beautiful." Hadn't he heard that fairies really like gems?

  The creature rebuffed all of his pleads and attempts, not even looking at the gem until its jar was set back down by a disappointed Cyrus.

  But as soon as it thought the coast was clear, the faerie turned its head and its eyes turned wide.

  It had seen the gem, and was immediately held captive by the Soulyte.

  Meanwhile, a dejected Cyrus was about to stuff the crystal back into his tunic when the merchant gripped his arm to stop him.

  The faerie, having been release from its enthralled state started to throw a fit, hitting the smooth walls of the jar with its tiny fists and letting out a strange yell that sounded like an angry chirp.

  “Hmm.” the merchant murmured, raising a brow while he took in the faerie’s reaction. “Take your Soulyte out again, young man,” he instructed.

  Cyrus obeyed and held out the crystal.

  The faerie tried to escape the beam of the crystal but to no avail. The sprite then shuddered for a moment and then, it burst into a bright array of colors that perfectly matched those in the hero’s crystal.

  Cyrus laughed—unable to hold back his absolute glee at the discovery. The merchant scratched his chin, his brows still lifted. He was deep in thought but a small smile was p
laying on the corners of his lips.

  “How much is it?” Cyrus asked eagerly as he dug out his leather purse from beneath the folds of his tunic.

  The merchant once again took a hold of his arm to stop him.

  “Hang on, Sir Hero,” the shopkeeper said. “I don't know if you really want that one or not. It's rather... free spirited. Unpredictable. I can't guarantee a refund if it slips away on you—”

  “I’m not worried about that,” Cyrus dismissed the merchant’s concern. “Faeries are loyal, right?”

  He picked up the jar and spun around excitedly, causing the faerie to tumble and sway in its glass enclosure. He paused in his merriment to pay the merchant with a small handful of jewels. “Well, if you’re sure,” the merchant mumbled, pocketing the lad’s payment. “But I would recommend not letting him out of that jar for at least half a fortnight. And when you do, keep a close eye on him so he doesn't fly off. Faeries can find food for themselves easily so you don't need to do anything except be a kind and good companion.”

  “It’s a boy?” Cyrus asked.

  The merchant shrugged. “Most that wander this way this time of the year usually are. The females remain in the east until mating season. But with the famine coming in from the Forest, who knows? As you can see, it’s not exactly receptive to being examined.”

  The young man nodded, still watching his faerie. The creature looked less than pleased, sulking at the bottom of the jar. Cyrus had to wonder what exactly triggered the faerie to light up at the sight of his Soulyte.

  And now that freedom from the glass jar was within reach, why wasn't it thrilled to say the least?

  But Cyrus didn’t give much thought to his moody faerie. All that mattered now was that he had one and he was on his way!

  After all, it was time for an adventure!

  * * *

  NIGHT FELL AS they traveled across a particularly empty stretch of land. Only a few trees dotted the landscape. Long grass swayed in the faint breeze.