Veiled Shadows (The Age of Alandria: Book Two) (34 page)

Ehsmia:
(a.k.a. The Hidden People), An ancient race of faeries that have been in hiding to protect their race from extinction—though they are already believed to be of legend, if at all. Their magic is stronger as they retain a fraction of the ‘old magic’, as opposed to the magic of Earth Faeries. Though they are blessed with long life, they are cursed with slow reproduction.

Elves:
At one point were the majority race in Alandria. They have a base magic as most do in Alandria, but some are gifted with more abilities than others. Their magic is strengthened from the light of the sun, moon, and stars. 

Shifters:
A race of beings that have the ability to shift into an animal. Those of greater strength and magic, may have the ability to shift into more than one animal form rather than just one.
 

The Orchids:
An illusive collective of heads from various races united together originally to flee darkness thus creating Alandria. Considered the Originators and make up the group considered the Elders. Their goal to unite Alandria against the darkness that stirs upheaval against the kingdoms.

The Droch-Shúil:
Is an evil entity. It is an ancient host collecting souls that went bad—the unforgiven dead. It grows with the strength and magic of the souls it consumes. Also considered a kind of demon.

Ferriers:
Not quite Faeries or Elves for that matter, an ancient creature nonetheless existing in Alandria but not of it. They are neither alive nor dead, but simply exist. They are not anchored to any particular realm as they are the ferriers. They escort souls to their beyond whether it be where they are transitioned into rest, reborn, or to Exhile. They are non-partial or so it is believed. They are not to be involved other than departures.

Ónarach:
A faction of Elves—mostly—that chose to go against their nature and against their race by taking the lives of Elders in order to consume their magic for their own gain transforming them into something dark. 

Paladin:
The governing rulers of a territory, specifically Feraánmar territory of the Faeries, that took reign when the King and Queen died.

Sol-lumieth:
A new power, a new magic, that was foretold in an ancient prophecy to return the light and life—the hope—of Alandria.

NaNai:
The ancient Oak trees that were originally used to contain and protect some of the ancient magic that was transported at the inception of Alandria. They were brought into Alandria and even scattered and deposited into the mortal realm by the original Elf lords of the forest. As the ancient magic fails, so do the great oaks.

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Several races that were used in The Age of Alandria series are inspired from various mythologies throughout history. 

As a special treat, please check out the following excerpts from authors S.M. Boyce and Quinn Loftis!!

An Excerpt from
Lichgates

Book One in the Grimoire Saga

an epic fantasy adventure with a contemporary twist

CHAPTER ONE

THE HUMAN

Kara Magari pushed her way down an unkempt trail in the Rocky Mountains, its trees hunching and swaying overhead as she crunched her way along the rotting foliage that served as a carpet. The canopy grew steadily thicker and swallowed the setting sunlight, casting a murky green glow over her pale skin as she hiked. Her hiker’s build made her look a year or two younger than she really was—a curse at twenty—but she knew she would be grateful for it someday.

She ran a hand through her blond hair as she examined the forest. This was a new path, one she found on the way back to her car after an early dinner at the visitor center. She bit her lip and scanned the empty forest. Even though there hadn’t been any empty beer cans or syringes littering the way, solo hiking on an unfamiliar trail was never safe. It would be dark in just a few hours.

She patted the side pocket of her backpack. The edges of her stun gun pushed against the cloth. Kara smirked—she would be fine.

Two minutes later, the footpath ended at a simple gazebo built from unpainted wood. Low-hanging branches hid half of its paneled roof, and a tree trunk on either side blocked the way around. Waist-high wooden railings surrounded most of the structure, but left a break in the fencing just wide enough to walk through. A path stretched from this opening across the gazebo to the other side, where yet another gap in the rails would let her through to the blinding daylight. Benches lined the miniature lane through the shelter.

The landscape on the other side was blurred and bright: a stark contrast to the heavy green glow of the forest, where only freckled rays of sunlight could break through the leaves. She narrowed her eyes as she got closer to the gazebo, but couldn’t distinguish anything through the sun’s sharp glare.

A plank of wood framed with odd carvings had been nailed to the space above the entrance, and she squinted in an effort to read the dull cuts and make out the word:

Lichgate.

She shrugged and stepped up onto the wooden aisle. As soon as she set foot inside, her stomach lurched. Her cheeks flushed, and she covered her mouth to suppress bile.

A blue light flared out of the corner of her eye. It had come from the edge of the lichgate, but as she leaned over to inspect the space by her head, she couldn’t find anything reflective or even blue. 

She took a deep breath before tossing her pack on one bench and lounging on the other until her stomach settled. Maybe she should have checked the sell-by date on the chicken salad she’d eaten at the visitor center.

Kara closed her eyes and listened to the wind rustling through the leaves, her body relishing the cool air as it coursed along her neck. She breathed deeply again, and her gut relaxed.

She leaned back against the bench and sighed. Since her dad had first strapped her to his back twenty years ago and trudged down the East Inlet to Adams Falls, she’d spent every summer of her life vacationing in the Rockies. Her family had hiked almost every trail, but this one was not on her worn and ripped map. 

Memories of past hiking trips slipped into her mind: her dad laughing as he tripped over a root; Kara discovering an antique diamond earring caught under a rock in a stream; her mom rattling off tips about hiking as she pointed out wildlife.

Kara’s shoulders tensed. Her breath caught. She wasn’t supposed to let herself think about her mom.  

Her heart sank as the pain rushed in anyway. Six months. She’d been forced to live without her mom—her best friend—for six whole months.

Hollow echoes of sirens and shrieking tires tugged at her mind, but she pushed them away. Even on a secluded path hidden from the world, she couldn’t give into thoughts like those. She would lose it and start crying. After that, there would be no telling when she would get it together enough to drive back to the rental house. 

Her dad couldn’t be doing too great, either. He was probably at the rental, eyes out of focus as he stared at the same page of a crime novel for hours. 

Neither of them handled grief well. 

Kara promised herself she would hug him when she got back—a good old Magari bear hug. Maybe mimicking one of his painful cuddles would get a little laugh out of him.

Early this morning, Kara had tiptoed by his bedroom before he even woke up. She’d wanted to wait around and check on him before she left, but she’d written him a note instead. She couldn’t stay in the house. The first thought to hit her that morning had been:
Mom died exactly six months ago. You’ll never get her back.

Not a happy wake up call.

Kara cleared her throat and tried to focus on cheerful things. She had to distract herself, or she really would lose what little control she had.

Tony. Last summer, Kara’s stomach tied in knots every time she walked into the trail café because she knew she would see him—the gorgeous cashier with green eyes and dark hair. According to the white plastic square on his shirt, his name was Tony. She and her mom always giggled over how Kara would turn red as a tomato when he made eye contact, and her mom even dared Kara to ask him out, once. He always smiled when they walked in, as if he liked that he could make Kara blush without even speaking, but she could never quite muster the courage to actually follow through on her mother’s dare.  

But she’d changed. Life had lost its flavor since her mom died.

When Kara had gone to the café on her first day back this summer, she saw Tony through the window. She’d waited for that familiar surge of adrenaline and desire, but it never came. She didn’t even blush when Tony smiled from his place at the front. She’d forced a smile in return, but it must have come out as a grimace. The boy had faltered and looked quickly away. He had avoided her eye since then.

She didn’t mind the isolation, though. Not really. In a strange way, she kind of liked it. She often saw family friends on the paths, and they never just let her enjoy the peace that came from a silent hike. She’d already been trapped in a chat with her dad’s previous tennis partner once today. And on her way back to the car, her mother’s old yoga buddy had appeared around a bend. If Kara hadn’t doubled back and slipped onto the first trail she’d seen—the one that led her to the gazebo—the woman might have made eye contact, which meant an inevitable hour-long conversation. Kara just didn’t have the energy.

Kara wanted to enjoy talking to people, but she just didn’t. She could only think about how to get away from the discomfort of inevitably having to answer questions about her mother, whom nearly everyone had loved.

Since the funeral, Kara’s only escape came while hiking. The Montana Rockies were her haven. And when she hiked, she did so alone. 

Kara spent a lot of time alone, lately. Probably too much, but she liked the reprieve. When she hiked, she could finally clear her mind. She could forget. A bit of her fear and anger dissolved away with every breeze that rustled the canopy. She simply walked, and nature entertained her. The woods were her home away from home. They were safe. They didn’t pity her or offer tissues or send her to therapy.

She would feel alive again someday, even though the grief made that difficult. For now, she would just hike.

But in the darkest pit of her mind—the one she most ignored—she knew solitude wasn’t the answer. Kara’s hikes only helped her avoid the real problem: that, deep down, she blamed herself for  her mother’s death. She had no idea what to do about that guilt.

A tear built up in Kara’s eye, but she used the heel of her palm to wipe it away. She cleared her throat and pushed herself to her feet. 

No more thinking.

She glanced around to get her bearings, a ball already forming in her throat. She needed to distract herself, and focusing on happy things had just led to more terrible memories. She instead focused on trying to figure out where she was. 

Now that she was sitting in the gazebo—or lichgate, whatever—she could see the view previously blocked by the low-hanging branches. The structure hugged the edge of a cliff and overlooked a valley surrounded on all sides by a mountain range. A river flowed into a broad lake about a half mile into the distance. This wasn’t Lone Pine Lake, since there wasn’t a waterfall nearby. She craned her neck and stood, leaning against the frame for a better view. It didn’t look like Bluebird Lake, or Mills Lake, either. The wind picked up and carried the stale musk of dried leaves and grass.

Where am I?

She pulled her compass from her bag and checked it before glancing up at a pack of clouds that partially hid the sun.  The path hadn’t turned south, and she knew her fair share of the Montana trails by heart. This had to be a new valley, one she’d somehow never explored. Her mom would’ve loved this!

Kara sighed. Her hand reached to the locket around her neck, but she stopped. Hikes were for letting go, not remembering.

She stepped off the other side of the gazebo. Again, there was a kick in her gut and a flash of blue light. Her stomach tightened, and she leaned against a tree for support. Bark caught in her fingernails.