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Outskirts Press - Tracy Brissette

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96 pages

English

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Rhiannan is a 17-year-old Half-Elf who spends most of her days with her beautiful Druid mother, quietly tending to the Sacred Grove and mastering the secrets and spells of the forest. “There are things even in Nature that you must protect yourself against, Rhiannan,” her mother often warns, “and there are some things that Nature did not create.” Rhiannan learns of predators and natural balances and of the Gil Chren—a shadowy enemy who kills outside of the balance of predator and prey. Rhiannan’s world comes crashing down around her one night when her Home-Tree and Sacred Grove are destroyed in a fire set by an ominous black rider…and her mother is nowhere to be found. Alone and terrified, Rhiannan flees through the forest that has always protected her, only to find herself at the mercy of strangers. In the space of two days, she saves the life of a Dwarf Prince, catches the eye of an Elf Lord, and finds a Human half-brother she didn’t know she had. They all want to help her find her mother and save her home, but how will she protect them from the Dark that relentlessly pursues her?

Sujets

Fantastique

Epic Fantasy

Epic

Fiction

Fantasy

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Publié par	Outskirts Press
Date de parution	25 mai 2014
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781478737544
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0500€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

This is a work of fiction. The events and characters described herein are imaginary and are not intended to refer to specific places or living persons. The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author and do not represent the opinions or thoughts of the publisher. The author has represented and warranted full ownership and/or legal right to publish all the materials in this book.

Rhiannan’s Quest
Book 1
All Rights Reserved.
Copyright © 2014 Tracy Brissette
v2.0

Cover Photo © 2014 thinkstockphotos.com. All rights reserved - used with permission.

This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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ISBN: 9781478737544

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014907309

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PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
For Paulina Ley, Friend of my Heart. We lost your light too soon.
Acknowledgments
First and foremost, I thank my friends Kristine and Tim Burks and Doug Thornberg for the Dungeons and Dragons game that started this entire thought process. Kris is DM extraordinaire and her imagination was responsible for a good part of Rhiannan’s back story, and lent itself to some of the group’s more interesting encounters. She also helped me to come up with new names for the deities, when Galen reminded me that the ones I’d been using were already copyrighted property.
Kris, Tim and Doug, you will find that variations on all three of your first names have been immortalized in the pages of Chal’s Justice, the second book in the series, as a way of thanking you further for lending me your D&D personas to build upon.
Thank you to my friends and family who have given me so much encouragement along the way; I especially wish to thank the Wordcraft Writers Fellowship. Founder Eric Hahn and members Keith Murdock and Alicia Leslie have been firmly in my cheering section, for which I am eternally grateful!
Many, many thanks, to authors Edward Medina and Heather Hutsell Bischoff for answering my never ending questions with everlasting patience. Very special thanks to my editing team: Ruthie Canter, Chris Vetters, Julia Golbey and Virginia Thompson for taking their time to help make my story flow. Commentary from Derek and Donna Cook, Pamela and Martijn Pieters, and Galen Palmer also lent itself to the final product you hold in your hands.
I believe I’ve covered everyone except you, my Friend. Dear Reader, without you this entire journey is for naught! I sincerely hope you enjoy the quest you are about to embark on. Cheers!
A Prelude
The Elder gathered the young Druids about her and settled herself in a comfortable seat beside the fire. She said to them, “Now listen closely, for though this is an old story, there may be new lessons for you all to hear.”
The youngest of her charges shifted in their seats, and the older ones leaned eagerly forward to better hear the wisdom of the Guardian.

M y name is Rhiannan, and I am a half-elf. That won’t mean anything to most of you; it didn’t really mean much to me until I lost my mother. My story begins before that happened though, and I don’t want to get ahead of myself.
My mother’s name was Danai. She was an Elf and very beautiful, tall and slender as Elves are, with moon-white hair and eyes the color of new grass. She was quiet and kind to all around her; a Druid, a caretaker of all the natural world. She taught me Druidic Hierarchy, from the powerful Guardians who speak with the Earth Herself and who are allowed to harness the power of all living things, to the Druids like she and her mother and her mother’s mother, who keep the balance and harmony of the forest and communicate with and heal the animals and trees, to the Shepherds and Farmers and Herbsmen who aid the Earth in the mating and growing seasons. She taught me her craft, and of the magic found in nature. She taught me much of the deep woods and those that live within it. I was good with herbs and herb lore and I had a gift for healing. The animals trusted me and some would allow me to see through their eyes as I matured. She told me that it was a good way to learn of the forest around us. She said that when I was old enough I might learn to shift; to take on the forms of the animals whose minds I could touch.
We lived deep in the forest, away from any settlements, in a small, comfortable house, formed from a living Rowan Tree. Our furniture was made by my father, or so my mother told me. Our clothes we made ourselves, and some of our weapons, such as they were. “There are things even in Nature that you must protect yourself against, Rhiannan,” my mother said to me often, “and there are some things that Nature did not create.” She taught me of predators and of the natural balances and of the Gil Chren, a people known to the Wood folk as a shadowy enemy who kills outside of the balance of predator and prey.
I never knew my father, or his name or where he was from. My mother would say only that he was Human and kind, and that I had his eyes. Mother and I spent most of our days quietly, tending to our Sacred Grove and healing the trees and the animals of the forest. On occasion, though very seldom, she would take me to a small Elfin village a day’s hard walk from our home. The village was lovely, a fun place for a young child to explore. All of the homes and the shops were made from the living trees and decorated, as ours was, with growing vines and flowers.
The path to the village was full of places to explore, and mother never rushed our walks; I suppose she looked at them as a teaching opportunity. I loved our time together, but I was never truly at ease in the village itself after I became old enough to understand the attitudes towards me. The younger Elves were always kind and I played with many of the children, but the Elders would make comments when they thought I couldn’t hear. They would say things like, “Poor Thing,” or “Coarse One” and, “lacking her mother’s grace.” Their tone would be sneering when they would use the words, “half-blood” and, “human spawn.” I came to believe I would not have been welcome had I visited on my own.
I asked Mother once about the things I’d overheard. She told me that the Elves were an ancient race who tended to be too prideful in the purity of their bloodlines, and that it would come back to hurt the Elfin race. She said that many Elves, though not all, would look down on me for being half Human. I can still hear her voice telling me that I should not pay attention to the attitudes of others. “You have the advantages of two races Rhiannan, and nothing anyone says or does should change the respect with which you treat those around you.”
I asked her many times to tell me of the world outside of the Forest, but she would say only that it was safer to stay close, that there were many difficult and dangerous things in the outside world, and that I had much to learn. I practiced using the Earth magic far more often than she was aware, and I became proficient with many of the less subtle defensive spells as a way to amuse myself during the long days spent alone in the woods around our home. That this was a lucky hobby, I would find out for myself, and sooner than I wished.
We spoke the Elfin and Druidic tongues and Mother taught me some of the Common language that many races used, which sounded harsh to my ears, though I found that I was able to pick up the accents and their meanings quickly. I didn’t have many words in the Common speak; I think now it was because she knew only a very few.
By the spring of my seventeenth year it had become my habit to go out early into the forest alone, to practice my spell-craft and to collect herbs and plants for us to store and dry against the winter months when none would grow. I’d taken to venturing farther and farther afield, though never leaving the forest itself. My mother’s warnings always echoed in my ears. Shortly after dark one evening, I was returning with a large bundle of milkweed for storing and some fiddleheads and ramps to cook for our dinner. I’d also picked two large pockets full of early berries for dessert. I was later than usual and I knew Mother would be worried. I’d hoped the berries would hasten her forgiveness, for they were a favorite of hers.
I was confused at first when I saw the bright glow ahead of me. The sun had already set, so I knew that wasn’t what was painting the orange and red hues in the sky. As I got closer to home, I smelled smoke and then I saw the flickering of flames in our Grove. I dropped my herbs and ran forward with my staff in hand, my dart bag banging against my hip. I broke through the last of the trees into our clearing and saw our Home Tree burning, fully engulfed in flames. I was about to call out for my mother when I sensed something that sent a finger of ice through me without knowing why.
At the edge of the clearing, standing very close to our burning home, was a large dark shape. It seemed to feel my eyes on it, for it turned a bit toward me. Backlit by the flames, I could pick out only a dark, cloaked figure astride a large black horse. I felt frozen with fear. The horse reared up and spun suddenly to face me. I could see then that the rider was wearing a heavy black helm, and that a dark light glowed from the eye-slit. The horse leapt forward towards me and I backed up a step, and then two, and then I turned and ran. I didn’t have a thought as to where I would go, just that I had to get away. I was running solely on reflex, powered by a mind-numbing fear. I fled through the heaviest growth, instinctively picking out the paths most difficult for a horse to follow. Thorns t