Awakened: Revival series, #1

By J.L. Crandall

Through all his long life he'd been a hunter, a warrior, , fighting battle anfter battle, ever seeking, searching for the woman whose face appears to him in the flames of the campfire.  Through the ages she'd waited, watched, and longed for the day her hunter would find her. And ever the lords of darkness sought to keep them apart, but their time was drawing nearer, their destiny was at hand.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.L. Crandall
• Release date: May 23, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224464470

J.L. Crandall

J.L.Crandall Lives on a windswept island in the North Atlantic ocean where she makes no attempt to tame the imagination that is as wild as the seas that surround her home. Her hobbies are dogs, cooking, and spinning tales.  Enjoy.

Book preview

Prologue

Warrick stood on the battlements of Darkwood Keep, gazing out over the King’s army which surrounded the ancient castle. The king, even that weakling, at the urging of the Priesthood of Taratoth, had found his courage and turned against Warrick at the last. 

As the dawn drew nigh Warrick thought back to that night ten years past.  He could still feel the stab of the assassin’s knife as they fought.  He had won that battle, but had lost that which was most dear to him in life, his young mistress and their son.  Again he saw the torn and broken body of the boy and the battered face of the woman.  She had been like a part of him, and when the priests murdered her, they had killed him as well.  Warrick was just taking longer to die.

Warrick looked up as Galen the elf hurried toward him.  Galen was the last of his kind still alive, so it was said, and a great magic user.  News have I, my Lord, breathed Galen.

What care I for news? rumbled the huge warrior.  She is dead, Galen, long since, as will I be soon enough.  The old warrior sighed and waved his arm to indicate the army amassed at his gate.  How did it all come to this, Galen?  What drives the priests of Taratoth to such hate?

"Even as the spirits of the two lovers strive to reunite, the spirit of darkness calls to weak men to be His minions, His priests, twisting their minds, their very spirits.  He must find and keep the lovers apart, for love is the one true power that can defeat Him.

Her spirit is already reborn, my lord, said Galen.  To an elf woman, has she been born.  Find her again in this life, you will not I fear.

This I know, I do, growled Warrick.  He seized Galen by the cloak and shook him.  A spell on my spirit I would have, elf, in the next life to find her.

It has been prophesied so, my friend, replied Galen as he pried the old warrior’s hand from his cloak and gently squeezed his shoulder, and so it shall be.  I will away now to be about the task.  He turned and fled the wall.

Through the night Galen worked, calling the life force of the world to him, his tall companion lending His own strength to the spell, for they were opposed by a mighty force.

When the morning sun broke over the ridge, the attack came.  Within the hour the gate was down, and the enemy within the walls.  Warrick stood with his back to the towering stone battlements, swinging his huge broadsword back and forth like a scythe of death.  He was bleeding from a dozen wounds or more, any one of which should have been fatal.  As he slowly sank to one knee Warrick was heard to gasp, Now Galen, damn you, now.  As he spoke, a mist of golden light surrounded him for a few seconds. 

When the golden mist was gone, Lord Warrick, terror of the priesthood, lay dead in a pool of his own blood.  Far to the north, in a camp of the wild clansmen, a newborn child was suddenly surrounded with silvery light.  The midwife had thought him unlikely to survive, but in that light, he began to scream lustily. 

A bit to the south of Darkwood Keep, deep within a cavern, an old elf mage smiled to himself.  It is done, he sighed to his tall companion, but she is now elf born and will have a very long life indeed, he is only human.

His life will be as long as hers, I guarantee it, avowed a cold voice beside him.

Then this time they will find each other, and the prophesy will be fulfilled, and the power of their love will once again flow through the land, delivering the elder folk from their torment.

If we’ve got this right they will deliver more than that, the one-eyed god nodded His agreement and vanished. 

Forest Encounter

Silver the Hunter sat staring into the embers of the fire.  Blanking out all other thoughts as he concentrated, he sought the woman’s face as he had done so often before.  As her exquisite features came into focus, she spoke only one word and then vanished.  Danger!

With a tigerish leap he cleared the fire, just as a net settled where he had been sitting.  With a tuck and roll, the hunter was gone into the night. Five men with drawn swords and one hunting hound burst into the tiny campsite, cursing madly. 

Kill! barked the leader as he released the hound. The great dog hurdled the fire and disappeared into the darkness after the outlaw. They heard sounds as the dog crashed through the undergrowth, then a yelp of pain and silence ensued.  The manhunters stood listening, trying to pinpoint the whereabouts of their quarry.  Suddenly the dog’s body hurtled into the firelight, knocking the leader to the ground.  This was followed by a dagger which took one man in the throat.  He sank slowly to the dirt, gurgling out his life.  Four men were left.

The manhunters faced the direction from which the dog’s body and the dagger had been thrown just as another of their group was taken from behind and pulled into the darkness.  There was a sound like dry wood snapping, and then his body was thrown into the campsite, knocking the leader to the ground again.  The man fell, cursing wildly; three men left.

As the remaining men moved back-to-back in a defensive formation, a jagged, broken branch was thrust out of the darkness.  It took one man full in the face, gouging his eye and piercing his brain.  He fell dead to the ground; two to go. 

The Silver the Hunter stepped from the shadows into the light.  He was smiling, but there was only the promise of death in his eyes.  The hunter limped slightly on his left leg as he rounded the fire toward the two men.  He was unarmed but seemed not to care.  As he neared, the leader of the band of marauders lunged with his sword.  Like lightning, Silver twisted to the right and the blade whistled between his arm and his body.  As the swordsman overreached himself, Silver caught his wrist and pulled him off balance.  The man staggered forward, and the hunter’s huge fist crashed into the swordsman’s head with a sickening crunch.  The man fell twitching with a broken neck.  One man was still standing.

Silver limped toward the last man.  You will see the sun rise with cold eyes, he growled in a deadly voice.  The young manhunter dropped his sword and fled into the darkness, followed by the big man’s mocking laughter.

Again she has saved my life, the hunter mused softly.  I will find her or die in the attempt.

That task would have been easier if he had known who, or where, she was.  Three days later she appeared in the coals again; this time the danger was not to himself.

Adopted

The night was cold and damp, but the little girl didn’t seem to notice.  She sat silently, listening, her legs folded under her.  Absentmindedly she pushed a strand of long auburn hair from her eyes as she concentrated on her task. 

Her mother had been taken two weeks past; the priest of Taratoth himself had accused her.  Now Kiya sat beside the cold stone wall sharpening the small knife in her hand.  She was listening to her mother’s tortured screams. 

With the coming of the dawn they would light the fires and her mother would perish in the flame. Darnah, the priest who had made the accusation, would die by her small hand, even as her mother died in the fire.  This Kiya vowed as she sat listening and waiting for the sun to rise. 

She knew she would die as well.  Kiya had seen nine summers.  She expected to see no more.  Tears streaked her face as she listened helplessly beside that cold stone wall.

THROUGH THE NIGHT THE big hunter continued his journey through the darkened forest, while a tall woman sat helplessly by the seeing fire, watching, urging him to hurry.  He was a powerfully built man, but in spite of his size, he moved as easily and silently as a hunting wolf. After several days of hard traveling, he still showed no signs of tiring. 

The woman’s face had appeared to him in the embers of the fire again and she shared her dream with him.  He had doused the fire and set out immediately.  As he journeyed, he held the vision of a young, gangly girl, sharpening a knife beside a stone wall.

The dawn broke cold, grey, and damp.  Under the watchful eye of Darnah’s assistant, Targah, men piled bundles of wood at the base of a tall stake.  Targah wanted to be sure there was plenty of wood; he liked a hot fire.  Darnah, Priest of the Suffering God, was a great believer in suffering, as long as it was someone else who suffered.  Darnah would be along soon and Targah wanted all in readiness when he arrived. 

Darnah loved to hear the screams as his victims were cleansed in the holy fires.  Today would be a great day.  First the woman who refused his bed would burn, then he would take her child to serve him.  The child had been missing since her mother had been accused, but surely she would emerge at the burning. 

Targah smiled as the oil was poured over the faggots of wood.  This would be a hot fire indeed.  He puffed himself up as the woman’s broken body was dragged out from her prison and lashed to the stake, but where was Darnah?  Still in his bed, so the guard said, a touch of the fever.  Targah would have to carry on alone. 

As he began to preach and whip up the onlookers, Targah saw neither the cloaked child slipping through the crowd toward him, nor the old man limping into the village square.  As the priest continued to bawl out the virtues of suffering, the old man began to edge his way through the crowd.  Beneath his cloak he gripped a dagger in one hand and a large rock in the other.  The rock was for the first man with a torch, the dagger was for the priest’s heart.  Silver the Hunter was only halfway to the front when there was a commotion.

Kiya was quick, but Targah’s eyes were sharp, and he saw her coming.  With a primal scream of rage, the child struck with her small knife.  As Targah leaped aside, Kiya’s knife missed his heart and only grazed his arm.  The nearest guardsman grabbed her wrist and twisted it painfully into the air.  Screaming in pain now, Kiya turned and delivered a kick to the guardsman’s groin.  He dropped her instantly.  As she fell, Kiya spun and aimed another kick, this time at Targah’s groin.  She missed and he struck her a savage blow to the head which knocked her to the ground.  Kiya lay there sobbing in pain and frustration.

Tie her beside her mother, Targah barked to his guardsmen.  The fires will cleanse yet another this day.

As the child was tied to the stake with her mother, a huge man with greying hair and beard elbowed his way to the front of the crowd.  He was withdrawn into his cloak, but his eyes took in everything.  Those eyes burned with a rage hotter than a dwarven forge fire.  Choosing his targets, Silver tensed to spring, but then he locked eyes with the woman at the stake. 

The fires leaped up as the oil soaked wood was torched, yet the woman’s eyes held his.  Silver could see that her body had been broken and he could not save her.  Her eyes swept to her daughter and back to his, pleading with him.  In his burning eyes she saw the only possible hope for her child’s survival.  As the flames leaped up between them, Silver nodded slightly and saw the thank you that formed on her lips; then he exploded into action.

With a scream of rage and challenge, the big hunter leaped from his cloak and charged.  His right arm snapped forward and the stone he threw struck the woman tied in the fire.  Her skull cracked under that blow; she would feel no more pain in this lifetime.  At the hunter’s charge, Targah threw himself backward.  It was lucky that he did, for the blow that felled him was meant to kill.  Had he been standing still his skull would have cracked like an eggshell.  As it was Targah was only knocked unconscious.  The flashing dagger took the first guardsman in the throat and the second in the chest.  Both men fell as the hunter passed them on his way to the fire. 

Silver had killed two men and felled a third without slowing his stride.  Like a maddened bear he tore into the fire, hurling burning faggots in all directions.  The crowd began to scream and flee as some of their clothing caught fire.  A swift pass of his weapon and the child was free.

Run, he bellowed as he threw her in the general direction of the forest.  Kiya leaped from the ground where she fell and fled toward the trees.  Glancing back, she saw the big hunter cut a path through the men who foolishly tried to block his way.  She turned toward the forest and fled on.

Gasping for air, Kiya burst into the trees and looked over her shoulder once again.  As she turned her head the hunter was on her.  Kiya was swept into the air and thrown over a powerful shoulder.  Somewhat detached, Kiya watched as the pursuing villagers were slowly left far behind.  She squirmed a bit trying to get more comfortable.

At length he put her down.  Run, he urged her as he slowed his pace to hers.  When he became impatient, he scooped her up again and ran on.  It was nearly dark before he stopped and put her down.  Breathing deeply, the big man sank to the ground with his back against a tree.  For a long moment their eyes locked.

I am called Silver the Hunter, he said.  I will take you to the Wolf Clan.  They are my kinfolk.  You will be safe there."  The child didn’t speak; she just continued to search his eyes.

You have more courage than most men. What are you called, my little warrior?

Kiya, she replied in a small voice, still holding his eyes.  Suddenly the dam broke, she fell into his arms and wept away the fears, pain, and sorrow of the past two weeks.  Silver gently rocked back and forth as he held the sobbing child. 

Something stirred deep within him as he rocked her to sleep.  Softly he swore the Guardian’s Oath over her sleeping form.  In a lifetime too long to be natural, the hunter had never sworn an oath he couldn’t keep.  Unknown to Kiya, she had gained a mentor and a guardian for life.

Through the night Kiya’s sleep was disturbed by strange dreams.  Once she dreamed that she was curled up with a pack of dogs to keep away the cold.  She snuggled into their deep fur and felt the warmth of their bodies drive away the dampness.  Later she was aware that someone had thrown a warm woolly blanket over her.  She dreamed that she was with her father. 

Kiya awakened in the grey light just before dawn.  The air was cold and damp, but it was warm under the big hunting cloak, so she snuggled deeper.  As she cuddled into the cloak something was nagging at the back of her mind.  Suddenly she sat bolt upright, eyes wide as her memory of the preceding day came rushing back.  Where had that cloak come from? 

The big hunter was hunched over a dying fire, staring into the coals.  It was a posture she would become familiar with over the next five years.  Awake are you? he rumbled.  We are safe here.  Sleep more if you wish.

Where did this cloak come from? she asked in a suspicious voice.  I saw you drop yours in the village.

Went back for it in the night, he replied, a grin playing at the corners of his mouth.  Had it a long time.  Loathe I am to part with it.

You left me alone here in the night? Kiya asked with a bit of fear in her voice.

You were well protected, he replied.  Quite safe for all that.  He nodded toward the nearby trees.  Kiya looked in time to see a wolf pack rise and trot off into the gathering dawn.  It had been no dream; she had been snuggled in the pack of wolves all night while he was gone.

Who are you, who calls the wolves to guard me? she asked as she watched them disappear.

No one commands the wolves, he replied, but they will occasionally do a favour for a friend.

Then you must be a wolf yourself, Kiya said thoughtfully. 

Silver just grinned wider.  I’ve been called that from time to time.

Are you my father? Kiya asked, suddenly looking deeply into his eyes.

No child, Silver replied gently.  What made you ask me that?

Mother always said father was the mightiest warrior who ever lived, answered the child, her eyes misting over as she spoke of her mother.

Did you not know your father?

He went to the wars when I was a babe, she replied, regaining some of her composure.  He did not return.

Silver sighed deeply.  His heart ached for this child of courage.  A child who attacked her enemies without fear for her own life and who seemed to be adapting to her new mentor at an amazing rate.  She showed no fear of the wolves; truly she belonged with the Wolf Clan.  Since you have no parents, and I have no children, we seem to be in good company.

What happens to children with no mother or father where we are going?

They choose new ones as soon as they’re ready.

The children choose?

Aye, that they do, he nodded in reply.  It is thought that children are much wiser in these matters.

Then I choose you, she said rising to her feet and placing her hands on her hips.

By careful child, he said gently, looking deeply into her eyes.  There’s no need to rush, there isn’t.  Make no choice in haste.

Kiya flung herself into his arms sobbing.  I choose you, I do, she sobbed into his chest.  You said the children get to choose, and I choose you.

I accept your choice then, Silver whispered into the child’s hair.  From this day forward, Kiya of the Forest is the daughter of Silver the Hunter.  So will we both swear before the fires of our kinsmen for all to hear.  Come daughter, we have far to go, and I would reach the Wolf Clan before the snows fly.  With Kiya tucked under his arm, Silver the Hunter set out on the long journey northwest toward the hunting grounds of the Wolf Clan. 

The tall woman sat back from her fire and sighed deeply.  Finally she could rest, the child was safe.  She did not know why this was so important, but it was.

New Clothes

Kiya awakened early on her third day in the forest.  She was aware of something moving nearby, although she could hear no sound.  Slowly and carefully she turned her head to get a better view of their tiny camp.  Kiya held her breath as she caught sight of a dancing bear near the fire. 

On closer inspection it became clear to her that it was no bear, it was Silver the Hunter.  She had no idea what he was doing, but instinctively she knew it was of great importance, and something that she must learn.  As quietly as she could, Kiya rose from her mossy bed.

For only an instant Silver’s every instinct screamed a warning as he realized he had a shadow.  Sweeping gracefully through his warrior’s exercises, he pivoted about to see his tiny shadow mimicking his every move.  Do you know what we’re doing? he asked as he continued the dance.

No, she replied, as she concentrated on copying his movements.

It is called the Warrior’s Dance.  Do you know why we do this?  She replied with a small shake of her head as she continued to focus on his movements.  We do this so it becomes a habit.  Someday, one of these movements may save our lives.  They have for me many times before.  We practice every day so when we need them, they are as natural to us as breathing.  Do you understand?

Kiya stopped and put her hand on her hips, her brow creased in thought as she digested this information.  Silver grinned at the serious look on her face.  Finally she nodded her head.  Kiya had grasped the full significance of what he had said.  Can we start again? she asked.  I want to learn it the right way.

Silver stood beside her and assumed a relaxed posture.  Kiya mimicked him perfectly.  There are only six basic movements, he said, smiling at her, three to one side and three to the other. All others grow from those six.  We will start with these.  He began the movements slowly with Kiya carefully shadowing his every move.  Slowly he increased the speed until she could no longer follow him, then he stopped. 

You amaze me daughter, he said with a smile.

What do you mean?  Her disappointment at not being able to keep up was evident on her face.

It was weeks before I could do as much as you have done this day, he said gently.  We will do more tomorrow, and each day thereafter. 

Thus began a lifelong habit that would serve Kiya well.  From that day onward she began each morning with the Warrior’s Dance.

They finished their meal and erased any sign of their small camp before setting out.  After walking for some time, Silver stopped and motioned her to silence.  After assuring himself that they were alone and unobserved, he turned to her with a grin.  Spoke of a certain plant yesterday I did, he grinned.  Do you remember what it was?

Kiya answered his grin with one of her own.  Stingweed, you called it, she said smartly.  Good to eat only after you cook it.  Must be careful when picking it, or it will sting you badly.

Can you find it then?

Kiya started to hunt about, and then stopped.  Think first, then act with purpose, you told me yesterday. It grows in the shade of tall trees, she said, looking for the tallest nearby tree.  Likes some sun, but not too much.  Kiya moved purposefully toward a tall tree, then casting about for a likely spot she pointed.  There. 

Pulling out the small dagger he had given her, she advanced on the stingweed.  Bending the plant over with her foot, she cut off a small bunch of the spiny leaves with her knife.  Careful not to touch them, Kiya folded the leaves into a larger harmless leaf she pulled from a plant that always grows near the stingweed.  Tucking her prize into her pocket she announced she would cook it with the evening meal.

Well done, Kiya. I’ll teach you about another plant this day.  Silver was amazed.  Kiya learned fast, and no lesson was ever forgotten. In the years to come, Silver would impart to her every bit of useful knowledge he had gained in his unnaturally long lifetime.

Kiya awakened early the next day. Wait for me, Father, she called as she hurried to Silver’s side for the Warrior’s Dance. He grinned and waited until she was ready. After she could no longer keep up, he moved into a more elaborate set of exercises.  Kiya returned to her basic six and continued to practice until he was ready to stop. They ate then set out toward the north again. As they travelled, Kiya’s lessons continued.

It was near high sun when the sounds of distant battle reached their ears.  Silver was steering them well away from the sounds of clashing swords until they heard the woman’s scream.

Stay here, he barked and vanished into the forest, heading toward the sounds of conflict.  Silver stopped and took in the scene before deciding what course of action to take. His eyes were sweeping the clearing before him when the crack of a snapping branch behind him sent him leaping into the branches of the nearest tree.  With a muttered curse, he dropped back to the ground beside a red faced Kiya.  She was holding a small piece of her gown which had caught the branch and snapped it.

Sorry, she whispered.

This time stay here, Kiya, he growled sternly.  She knew by the sound of his voice that he meant it.  She sat and did not speak.

In the clearing a merchantman was backed against the side of his wagon trying to fend off three armed robbers.  He was slowly losing the battle, as he was bleeding from several wounds.  A woman lay still on the ground at his feet, bleeding from a gash in her head. 

The three highwaymen were pressing their advantage when they were suddenly challenged from behind.  They spun about to see an old grizzled forest runner limp out of the trees toward them.  Leave off I say, he bellowed as he made his way