Journey to the Forest: Soulyte 1 Read online

  Chapter Four

  A Boy and a Girl

  CYRUS FELT WARMTH on his lips as soon as his eyes were shut. It was also soft. But it wasn't cloth. It wasn't just skin. It felt like...

  His eyes shot open and he saw his faerie kneeling down, kissing him sweetly in a short peck. And then the next thing he knew, it was not a faerie sitting on him. But, rather, a young woman.

  A young, naked woman.

  She seemed as shocked as Cyrus was, but with the happy kid of shocked instead of just being stone-shocked . She quickly jumped off with a shriek that turned into a laugh as she clapped her hands.

  "The spell is broken!" she squealed. "Ah! Finally! I've been a stupid faerie for months!"

  She crawled back over to Cyrus who had almost passed out from then if he wasn't so dumbstruck. She's a she. It's a woman. A young woman... a butt-naked woman who was just within arms' reach, who was right now wrapping her naked arms around his neck.

  "Thank you, Cyrus! If I had known it would just take a kiss... I..."

  Cyrus looked at her while his head spun. The other words just passed and he wasn't hearing them, so shocked was he. She was small and probably younger than he. Her hair was long and thick and the color of moonlight, almost glowing, silver in the night air.

  If it weren't for the fact that it was covering her nudity, Cyrus might have died at that very moment.

  "I... but... you..." He tried to speak and it was admittedly the most he had ever said to a woman not from his immediate family.

  "My name is Magdeline. I was cursed by an old witch. I was trapped and sold to that market. Not one had a Soulyte even similar to mine, so I was never released. When I saw you... well, that changed everything. I had the chance to be free again and find that old hag. But when that bird attacked me...I decided to just stay with you. Despite your naivety and stupidity, you're a pretty nice guy. You're pretty to the eyes, too. Now, if you can RTHJ"

  "You're a... woman...."

  And it was then that Cyrus finally fainted.

  Magdeline rolled her amethyst eyes, but managed a smile at the absurdity of it all.

  "You know," she whispered, "when the Hero kisses the damsel, it's supposed to be happily ever after."

  CYRUS WOKE WITH his head ringing and his chest burning. His entire body was sore and he could still feel water in his ears.

  His mind was foggy with pain and the confusion over what had happened the night before, so he did not remember at first why there was a woman nearby, drinking with cupped hands at the river where he had almost died. His first instinct was to grab his things and run, but when he glanced around he couldn't see his pack or his sword.

  "Finally!" he heard the voice of the young woman say, a little husky and pleasant to the ears for reason he could not understand. His shoulders stiffened and his pulse raced. "I was waiting hours for you to wake up."

  The white-haired young woman shook her hands dry and placed them daintily on her lap, her legs tucked underneath her. He noticed that at least she was wearing clothes now.

  But when he looked down at himself he saw that she was actually wearing his tunic. The dark blue made her pale skin almost glow. The tunic reached just above her knees and one sleeve sagged off of her left shoulder, since it was too big on her. She had braided a band of her hair at the top of her head but it did little to tame its thick waves.

  Cyrus tore his gaze away, blushing furiously at the fact that she had undressed him-no matter that he was still wearing an undershirt.

  He bowed and scrambled to his feet. Before he could dash away, the woman caught him by his collar and forced him to look down at her. She was at least a head shorter than him even when she stood on the tip of her toes. She was very petite, her hair cascading to her hips.

  She looked so beautiful that he felt breathless.

  She glared up at him and then sighed, bowing her head but not loosening her grip.

  "I know you want to run and hide," she said, "but I need you to stay calm. If you're a Hero, it's your job to help out damsels, right? Because I could sure use some help right now."

  Cyrus swallowed audibly. He had never been this close to anyone of the opposite gender-excluding his mother-and it made him woozy. She smelled incredibly good, but that thought only made his queasiness worse.

  "You remember me, right?" she asked. "Mag-de-line. You saved me last night before you fainted, remember?"

  You're my faerie, Cyrus thought but couldn't get the words to come out of his mouth. You're my faerie and somehow you have turned into a woman. You're a woman to whom I've told my entire life story.

  "I need you to take me to the closest city. Can you at least do that? You don't even have to talk to me. Actually, I'd prefer if you didn't. I pretty much know everything you have to say anyhow. So if I let you go will you promise not to run?"

  The man nodded stiffly.

  Magdeline uncurled her fingers and stepped back. But Cyrus was rooted firmly to the spot.

  He desperately hoped that this was all a dream and when he woke, his faerie would be back to normal and this bossy woman would not exist. He'd be able to get along with his duties as a Hero and not be under the scrutinizing gaze of a female. Especially not a female so... so dominating. Certainly not one who was so beautiful.

  Magdeline regarded him with a bemused expression. "Good. Now get your sword and let's go."

  Cyrus glanced around. He hadn't had his sword since before they were attacked. If he was lucky, it would still be on the hill upstream.

  He turned slowly and walked up the bank, scanning the river for any signs of his belongings. The hair on the back of his neck prickled when he heard the soft crunch of grass behind him that followed his steps. His senses were entirely focused to the woman behind him and he couldn't seem to shake it. At this rate, a dragon would have landed in front of him and he might still not notice.

  As he tried to distract himself, he caught sight of the pouch that was used to capture his faerie the previous night. He must have thrown it after the faerie escaped, tossing it on the rocky edge of the river in his panic for land. He leaned over the bank and grabbed it off a stone, careful not to slip in and relive his nightmare from that night.

  Upon closer inspection, he could see that it was made of dragon leather, which explained why his faerie hadn't been able to teleport out on its own. Magical creatures always had a way of making things inconvenient.

  He stuffed the pouch into his shirt and continued to scan the grass and water for his things. He must have had quite the journey in the rapids. The hill was further than he thought it would be.

  When they reached it they could find nothing but the flattened grass he and his pack had made. The thieves had taken everything: his sword, his belt, his pack, and even his sleeping pallet.

  "Let's hurry up and get to the city, then," Magdeline sighed, hugging her waist. "Those men are probably miles away by now. We'll never see them again. There's no use searching anymore."

  Cyrus groaned and ran his fingers through his dark hair. He had barely started on his journey and he had already lost the sword that his parents had given him.

  He was no Hero, he thought in dismay. What he was was a twenty-year-old boy with an abnormal fear of women who was trying to prove that he was done sitting on his mother's lap.

  Well, he's not on his mother's lap now. But with the other mission, he was failing miserably so far.

  He silently walked back to the path that led to the nearest city. Even if he didn't have his map he knew that the next destination would be the City of Herth, one of the larger cities in the heart of Madala.

  Herth was surrounded by walls of white stone that could be seen from miles away against the golden waves of grass and oats that grew on the rolling hills. The City specialized in bread made from these nearby grains and fabric from the animals and insects that fed on them. When the famine struck, it would strike hard on Herth's economy.

  By dusk, Cyrus and Magdeline made it to the gates. They were st
opped by a row of guards in thin chainmail, armed with shining spears of sharpened white stone.

  "What's your business?" one demanded, prodding Cyrus in the chest with his spear's blunt end.

  "I'm in need of supplies," Cyrus muttered. "And a night's rest."

  Another soldier chimed in with a growl. "We can't have you refugees taking advantage of our city, you know. We've had at least twenty of your kind through these gates only just today. There's limited food and room available as it is."

  "We're not refugees!" Magdeline snapped in the guard's face, pushing past Cyrus. "This man needs supplies to fight in the Forest for you people! He's a courageous Hero who lost his weapon in battle and is highly insulted to be questioned like some lowly refugee or criminal!"

  Cyrus was aghast by Magdeline's outburst. But the soldiers looked taken aback as well. Some bowed their heads while the first soldier apologized. The one who had spoken second looked almost terrified.

  "We're very sorry, miss. Please, purchase what you need. I'm afraid lodgings are scarce as of late. We've had many refugees speak of a monster in the north and so they've flocked inside our gates."

  "A monster?" Cyrus asked, suddenly forgetting of his dumb tongue. "So it wasn't because of the famine?"

  "That's right, Sir Hero. We don't know much about it but if you were to ask some of the refugees, I'm sure they would be able to explain the situation in full. You can't miss them. They look downright awful. Guess it must have been some monster."

  "Uh, thank you."

  The guards moved aside for Cyrus and Magdeline to pass.