The Mirror of the Moon (Revenant Wyrd Book 2)

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Authors: Travis Simmons

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BOOK: The Mirror of the Moon (Revenant Wyrd Book 2)
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Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

What Now?

Snea Peak of The Well of Wyrding

About Travis

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Copyright © October, 2012 by Travis Simmons

 

The Revenant Wyrd Saga Book Two:

The Mirror of the Moon

ISBN 978-1490981550

Published by: Wyrding Ways Press

Cover Design by:
Najla Qamber Designs

Formatting by:
Wyrding Ways Press

 

All Rights Reserved.  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or in any means – by electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise – without prior written permission.

 

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events are either are the product of the authors’ imagination or are used factiously. Any resemblance to actual places, events, and people, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

 

 

There were many marvels that travelers to Whitewood Haven commented on. That is, travelers the Mountain Elves allowed to come this far. One of the least spectacular, though most commented on, was the way Whitewood Haven was able to stay so warm throughout the entire year, and especially at such high altitudes.

Many people would be heard later saying how a strange wyrd settled through the woods propagating the warm climate. No trace of snow ever graced the upper regions of the Mountains of Nependier. Truth be told, when snow came it wouldn’t settle on the mountaintops, but instead start in the foothills and work its way down to the plains from there.

The reason for this was rooted in the history of the region. When the elves and dwarves began their communications eons before, heating shafts were tunneled from the White Mines up through to the top of the mountains so the elves—nomadic creatures as they were—would have heat wherever they roamed. Heating vents ran, not just to Whitewood Haven, but all through the Mountains of Nependier including to the ponds and even Lake Nependier so bathing and swimming were also pleasurable no matter the month. This served two vital purposes: now the elves never had to seek safe harbor in the plains below when winter came, and the dwarves also had a way to keep the mines at more amiable temperatures.

The most profound of the features in Whitewood Haven, and the one most commented on, was created by the Wyrd of the elves aboveground and the dwarves below.

In ages past, before the elves sought safe harbor in the mountains from the encroaching humans, the Mountains of Nependier had been home to a plethora of trees. The trees spanned from simple pine to great redwoods. Over a number of years after the elves came to dwell, the wood began to bleach from the wyrd of both races living within the range. Now it was one of the most amazing sights to behold in all the Great Realms. Tall trees looking to be carved of ivory dotted much of the land.

During the day, when the leaves and needles of the trees could be seen in light, visitors would notice how they were not green, as most leaves and needles were, but instead a strange blue-silver which shimmered like some alien ore. At night this anomaly created a glittering canopy like the stars had fallen from the sky to settle over the treetops.

This illusion was only fitting, of course, seeing how the Mountain Elves worshiped the Mikak’e, or as humans would understand it in the common tongue, Those Who Come from Beyond the Stars; or more simply Star People. 

Whitewood Haven, one of the only permanent establishments of the mountain elves, was the center of the elven council. This council was made up of a collection of elders from each tribe living along the mountains, and as such it became a permanent haven for the most trusted of elves. If the elves were said to have any kind of government—though the way they governed would be most foreign to humans—it would be centered in Whitewood Haven.

As it was, human politics had no hand or bearing on the way the council of elves ran things, nor the way the dwarven forgers worked.

Things had ran this way since the time Aaridnay had forced all the realms to sign the Proclamation of Racial Individuality. She had met with the elves and the dwarves in particular and tried to strike a deal. The elves, who had already given up their lands to the humans ages ago, told her simply to keep her humans out of the Mountains of Nependier and all would be well. And though they hadn’t lost anything to the encroaching humans yet, much the same was heard from the dwarves. So it had been for hundreds of years the only people permitted access to the higher regions of the Mountains of Nependier, instead of the trade routes normally tread, were those the elves and dwarves thought of as exceptional among the human race.

Lockelayter had met one such person years ago. At that time she called herself Graysyn Ellengar; now she was known simply as Grace, but to the elves she was called Star Sister, a title showing special rank among the tribes, a status that not many humans were allotted. Now she was considered sister to the elves and dwarves alike, for whomever the elves trusted also earned the trust of the dwarves.

Three nights ago Lockelayter had felt a similar need, though this time from a different deserving person. As chance would have it, Star Sister Graysyn had been among the party.

So it came, and still it stayed, that only a select few chosen by either dwarves or elves were allowed access to any part of the Mountains of Nependier existing outside the trade routes. Even those the elves or dwarves chose to sojourn in their homes were not allowed back into the mountains unless made a member of the tribe; hence the Star Sisters and Brothers.

These four Lockelayter brought with him were rare; never before had such a large group of humans been granted entrance, for four were more dangerous than one even though humans stood no chance of overpowering either race. It was uncommon for two people to venture this way, unheard of for three, and almost sacrilegious for four people to see Whitewood Haven at once.

There were many reasons why Lockelayter didn’t think the council would mind all of these people being here together. Three of them, including the stricken one, were of a powerful bloodline all elves would feel once coming in contact with them. Even now, walking not too far ahead of them pulling the litter, Lockelayter could feel the power of their blood caressing his skin like silken smoke rising to the Mikak’e in praise.

The three of them not only possessed powerful blood, honored blood, but they also were descended from one of the most revered of Star Sisters in elven history. Given the fact they traveled with Grace would have gained them at least a modicum of trust.

The main reasons Lockelayter thought they would be welcome, however, did not have to do with their blood, but the ring in which the short blonde wore. It was said the circlet would only be given to a person who would have great need of it in the future. The ring, as it was, would call out, encouraging its current holder to pass it on so it would end up on the finger of one who would need it most.

Lockelayter had felt the call from the ring a few nights past.

The blonde bore this ring—the one ring in the world that would grant unquestioned entrance to the elven lands. Legend said the ring was a gift from the Mikak’e themselves, and it may have been for it sparkled on the blonde’s finger as if it had been plucked out of the brightest star in the night sky.

None of that mattered, however, because Lockelayter was fairly certain, given their states of melancholy over their fallen comrade, that most of them did not even see the beauty of Whitewood Haven (say nothing of the way there) even now as he led them down one of the winding paths through the white forest. The path was lined with waist-high pillars of ivory with large opalescent orbs perched atop each pillar. When touched, the orb would grow brighter and brighter until the elven hand that ignited it was removed; this was their unique form of lighting carved by dwarven hands, wyrded by elven will.

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