Analindë (The Chronicles of Lóresse) Read online

  Analindë:

  The Chronicles of Lóresse

  Melissa Bitter

  DAEDALIAN PRESS

  Las Vegas | NV

  Titles by Melissa Bitter

  The Chronicles of Lóresse

  ANALINDË

  ANCESTOR'S CALL

  (Coming Spring of 2014)

  ANALINDË: THE CHRONICLES OF LÓRESSE

  ISBN: 978-0-982-59442-1

  Copyright © 2013 by Melissa Bitter

  Coverart: ShutterStock.com

  & Xnienke.deviantart.com

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.

  Please support the author, purchase only authorized editions.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  DAEDALIAN PRESS

  Visit us on the web!

  DaedalianPress.com

  For: Annee

  1980-2005

  Acknowledgments

  Emily & Laramie for reading that first draft and prodding me to write a braver story.

  Natalie, Shirlene, Jennie, & Doug for your unwavering support and cheer leading. You were as excited about Analindë's adventures as you were about other heroines you were reading. It gave me courage to carry on. Michael sorry for making you wait for the final version, you can be the first to read the next one.

  Also to Becky & Briant for your support. Apologies to Briant that I wasn't able to put any exploding cars and bullets in this book.

  To John R. Douglas my developmental editor, your advice was critical in helping me see a bigger picture than I was envisioning. And to Bill, your copy-edit saved my bacon.

  Thank you, thank you!

  The First Chapter

  ANALINDË’S HANDS SLID OVER THE smooth bark and the knobby bits of a giant aspen tree as she scampered her way up to the top. Happy, she hummed a tune as she climbed. As it soughed through the branches surrounding her, wind tousled the hair escaping her long black braid. Fat yellow leaves brushed against each other, adding a soothing percussive counterpoint to her improvised melody.

  She loved her home. The tiny age-old village of Lindënolwë was tucked deep within the Mountains of Lóresse. The peaceful valley which cradled the village was rimmed by tall, craggy peaks. Densely forested foothills abutted steep scrub-covered slopes. Pine trees, millennia old, grew straight, tall and so wide that it took thirty paces to circle around the trunks of most trees. Groves of aspens were interspersed among the pines, their golden leaves knocked against each other in the gentle autumn breeze.

  Loving the way she was enveloped in a sea of gold, Analindë glanced around as she hoisted herself up onto the next branch. She looked to the sky, dusk wasn’t afar off. She inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with that crisp, clean scent which comes only when the leaves change color and days grow short, before resuming her climb upward.

  She loved these shorter days because they brought longer nights. Longer nights meant cozy evenings spent with her family, lost in deep discussions of the topic of the day. Tonight just after dinner they were going to discuss theoretical machinations behind the divisive civil wars throughout Elven history. Not one of her favorite topics, but she would enjoy the evening nonetheless. She loved the way the fire crackled in the grate while her family chatted and sipped cups of hot chocolate; she loved the way her parents considered her thoughts and ideas as equally as they did Riian’s (meaning that her parents challenged his ideas just as much as hers); but most of all she loved how her parents would snuggle up to each other on the couch in her father’s den, well-contented to be amongst family. Analindë always reveled in the pervasive sense of belonging that knit them together.

  Last night they’d discussed the folklore surrounding an ancient Elven Mage Master named Olwë. He had risen to great power very quickly, which was much more common back then than it was now. Olwë had gained such a mastery over the varying branches of study that books and tools would call to him, pledging their aid when he had need for them. The discussion had been spirited, with Analindë siding with mother and Riian siding with father. The men had called them hopeless dreamers, stating that for the most part spells and weaves didn’t work that way and that the lore surrounding the great Master had been trumped up to ridiculous proportions. Analindë had exchanged knowing looks with her mother; surely anything was possible when Energy work was involved.

  She paused for a brief moment and studied the branches along her chosen route. They looked like they’d hold her weight. She pulled herself up over a thick branch, twisted around to the left, deftly grabbed the next limb and swung herself up. She had no idea what her mother planned to do with the aspen twigs that she’d been tasked with collecting, but she was happy to gather them if it kept her in good graces. It had taken years of begging to gain permission to begin Mage Studies. Most of the young adults her age had begun their studies decades ago. Why her family had to do things differently she’d never understand. She’d been ecstatic when her mother had relented, allowing her to begin. She wasn’t about to mess things up now, even though she didn’t understand the rationale behind the task.

  Using Energy wasn’t as easy as her family had made it appear and she was determined to prove to herself that she was up to the task. She’d not complained when her father had set her to practicing a strengthening spell, a near impossible task, nor when her mother had tasked her with solving several books worth of the most complex logic puzzles she’d ever come across. She hadn’t complained earlier and she wasn’t going to start now. If her mother wanted her to do something as simple as collect new growth twigs from the giant aspens, then she’d do it.

  Using Energy was hard work. Today’s work was hard and dirty. She briefly rubbed at the dirt smeared across the back of her left hand before swinging up to the next branch. Her thoughts circled back around to her current task—running errands for her mother.

  Her mother had filled the weeks away from school with lessons and errands. She wasn’t quite sure how running these errands fit in with Mage Studies unless the task was to teach her diligence and patience.

  Our family has always used breaks from school for learning. It’s how we become skilled so quickly. Her mother’s voice rattled through her mind and Analindë wondered if she was lucky or not, that her parents had finally relented just before the summer break. Her mother had ignored Analindë’s pleas to start her studies after the summer break, and it had only been her brother Riian’s smirks and the fear that her parents would change their minds about her starting Energy work at all that had eventually sealed her lips shut.

  It irked her slightly that mother had been right. She had learned a lot during the past several weeks. Even so, she would have rather spent her summer clambering about the mountainside enjoying nature than complete the tasks her parents had given her. At least she’d been able to scramble around and take great pleasure from being in the forest today.

  She paused for a brief moment to catch her breath and felt a grin spread across her face. The branches had begun to thin in the tree she was climbing. She looked out into the forest around her, enjoying the dance of golden leaves on the wind, as she thought back on her experiences of the summer. It hadn’t all been dreary, mindless tasks. On a good day, when things clicked into place, if she remained very still she could feel energies flowing within whatever she worked upon. The flow of Energy was a glorious feeling and made her so happy inside. She s
ecretly hoped that she’d always feel that excitement and never become jaded as she sensed some of her parent’s friends had long since become.

  She searched for an accessible perch near this year’s newest growth. Sighting a spot, she edged out on a limb and the tree swayed gently beneath her. A breeze played with the hair that had escaped her braid, tossing it into her face. She tucked the loose strands behind her arched ears and reached into her shoulder pack. Pulling out a well-honed knife, she deftly cut off a few twigs, each about the length of her hand, then tucked them and the knife away. Again, she wondered what her mother was going to do with the bits of wood; her mother always asked for the oddest things.

  Analindë shook her head, smiling wryly as she edged back toward safety. The wind gusted, the branch swayed beneath her and her heart soared. She loved the wind.

  A moment later the strong breeze quickly died down, unnaturally still. Analindë paused, alertly looking around. Something was wrong. Moments later, a powerful wave of Energy washed over her in pulse-like fashion. Prickles raced across her skin as the hair along the nape of her neck stood on end. The wind picked back up, shifting dangerously. Energy hung heavy enough in the air that even she—barely new into studying mage craft—could sense it without trying. Frightened, she scrambled toward firmer footing and a more sure grip on the tree. Wind gusted to life, shifting into a turbulent burst.

  The wind raged past her and the top of the tree bent sideways in pursuit, leaving her to dangle like a pennant snapping in a storm. Terrified, it was all she could do to keep her grip from slipping. Her hands ached as she swung back and forth. Sobbing and afraid, she wished she could haul herself closer to safety. But she’d been caught off guard and her grip was wrong. The roar of the wind whipped past her; too frightened, she closed her eyes and wondered how much longer she’d be able to hold on.

  Abruptly, the rush of air quieted and slowed. The tree swung back upright, swaying as eerie oppressiveness blanketed the forest. As the breeze stopped completely, she stifled her whimpers and attempted to smooth the hitch in her breathing. Shivering, she did her best to regain her footing, then nervously unclenched her hold on the branch.

  She slithered down the tree as quickly as her clumsy movements would allow, completely shaken by what had just happened. Her ears buzzed and her sight wasn’t quite right; adrenaline thrummed through her.

  What in the stars had just happened? Analindë thought to herself. The wind and the Energy pulse had come from the direction of the village.

  She didn’t know what had happened. And at that moment, she didn’t care to know. She simply wanted to reach the firm, solid ground beneath her without delay. In a hurry, she didn’t notice that the stillness had shifted. Neither did she notice the prickles that had resumed position on her skin, nor the individual hairs practically standing on end all the way up her arms, past her neck, and onto her scalp.

  Analindë was half-way down the tree when the wind pulsed back to life with a snarl so fierce that the tops of the trees bent sideways again without the slightest bit of resistance. Not flexible enough to outlast the strength of the micro-burst, branches cracked and splintered violently around her and throughout the surrounding forest. She closed her eyes and gripped the trunk tightly as her head spun. It wasn’t the roar of the wind or the fact that she was dangling over the ground that made her dizzy, it was the oppressive squashing sensation in her head. Right here, right now, she was going to die. She knew it. Either she’d fall to her death, or whatever spell had been cast in the valley would finish her off.

  Thick Energy was swirling around her, but there was nothing she could do about it, so she turned her focus toward the task of not falling. With single mindedness, she trained her attention on the swaying trunk above her, determined not to let go. She used the momentum of her swinging body to pull herself close enough to swing one leg up and around the trunk. A moment later, the other leg followed. She roared a hoarse cry as she pulled herself up to hug the tree trunk with all her might. It was not a moment too soon.

  The pressure of the Energy surrounding her pulsed.

  Silence descended oppressively around her as the wind continued to rage.

  Limbs bent, wood splintered, leaves fluttered violently.

  Yet, she heard no sound.

  She shuddered.

  The silence was more than not hearing. It was an absence of resonance and all that went with it. It was a cloying deafness that pressed. Her skin prickled and her apprehension rose.

  Something tugged at her from the direction of the village, pulling her against the wind. It was as if a rope-like band of Energy had looped itself around her chest and arm, cinching itself taut. She wrapped her arms and legs tighter around the tree trunk, but her grip slipped anyway.

  Afraid, she wildly craned her neck around, searching. How far was it to the ground?

  Not close enough.

  The pulling sensation coming from the direction of the village did not yank or jerk at her, but simply grew stronger. It towed her from safety, while drawing at her steadily. She cried out in fear—or at least she would have, but no sound passed her lips—when she realized she’d let go of the trunk and had flung her left arm out toward home. The only thing keeping her in the tree was her right arm and leg, which were hooked around the tree trunk. Her muscles ached as she resisted. It felt as if her arms were going to be ripped off her body, torn from their shoulder sockets.

  She grimaced as the Energy connection pulling at her stretched thin, broke, then snapped back with a wallop, catapulting her from her perch. The blustery wind softened as she crashed downward. Bouncing from branch to branch, she fell until a large one caught her in the middle with an oomph.

  She couldn’t breathe.

  She couldn’t think.

  Oh, she hurt!

  Her scout pack swung wildly below her pulling her off balance. Still stunned and unable to stop the momentum, she slid off the limb and hit the loamy earth with a silent thud.

  Unnaturally loud, the hum of the forest rushed in to fill the previous void.

  It was the birds chirping overhead that finally broke through the foggy haze in her mind. She wasn’t sure what hurt worse, the pain radiating through her body, or the pulsing throb in her left arm where the spell had recoiled. “What was that?” Analindë muttered into the rich soil. She rolled onto her back, panting for a few moments before gingerly reaching up to brush dirt and bits of bark off her face. She contemplated lying still for the rest of her life; it hurt too much to move.

  She thought of Riian, her older brother, who had recently returned from his tuvalië and wondered if he was responsible for the backlash. He’d been so full of himself since he’d been back, strutting around like he owned the place, trying new spells, reading the books in her father’s locked cabinet, and experimenting with spells of which they’d only ever dreamed. Just because he’d traveled around on his own for three years and handled real-life problems and issues while honing his skills didn’t mean anything.

  Well, actually it did. She frowned.

  He really had learned a lot while he was gone. Even mother had thought he’d done well, which was saying something. Analindë slowly stretched side to side feeling out her aches and pains. It didn’t feel like anything was broken.

  She’d live.

  Analindë relaxed and focused on her breathing, willing the pain to recede.

  The moment that band of Energy had snapped back on itself, she’d recognized the disturbance in the forest for what it was. A backlash. She’d never felt one quite like this and wondered if Riian needed help.

  It was obviously Riian’s. It couldn’t have been anyone else’s. Since he’d been back, the peaceful valley hadn’t been the same. Fortunately, the isolated mountain village was the perfect place for mages to work with Energy, because if any major spell went awry, the devastation wouldn’t harm many people. Riian’s spells often went awry. That was why she knew the backlash was his. To whom else would it belong?

&
nbsp; Analindë wondered how much damage had resulted this time. This shockwave had been significantly stronger than when he’d attempted to locate the mythic mountain dryads earlier in the summer. That time the trees had pulsed slightly from the released energies, but only his maps had incinerated and his workshop been gutted. He’d then proceeded to sulk for a month. Oh how she had missed her brother while he’d been gone. She grinned.

  Riian was probably fine, the parents were there to help him. They had put safeguards in place and would take care of him. She shook her arm, attempting to lessen the painful throb, and then sat up with a grunt. So far, so good.

  Analindë thought about the last time she’d fallen out of a tree, fifty-seven years ago, and felt her cheeks flush. She would never hear the end of it if Riian found out about today’s mishap; never mind that it was his fault she’d fallen.

  She clambered to her feet, brushed stray leaves and dirt from her clothes, and rolled her shoulders. It appeared that the worst of her injuries would be bruises and aching shoulders. She readjusted her scout pack and transferred the twigs she’d harvested to the bag of plants lying on the ground. She wondered what type of spell Riian had botched as she absently rubbed the spot on her arm where the backlash had recoiled.

  To be fair, she’d admit that he was quite good at what he did, and he seemed to be learning and adapting to his mistakes. She looked up at the branch she’d fallen from and rolled her shoulders again, stretching out the aches. It had been nice to have him back; he didn’t tease her half as much since he’d finished school at Mirëdell and he really did know his Energy work. So if she had to put up with the occasional backlash or fall from a tree to have him around, that was fine. It was definitely better to have him around, than to not have him around. She only worried now because he was experimenting with advanced spell weaving, which was dangerous. And today, something had gone terribly wrong.