The Black Forest (The Keeper Series Book 2), page 2
“No!” Savven cried as his mother gasped once and crumpled at his feet.
The scream that ripped from the King chilled the very air around them, and Nydeth caught her body as she fell, kneeling to the ground.
Savven turned back toward the tunnels and saw the archer. A primal snarl flew from his lips as he unsheathed his sword and charged. He lunged, slicing the once kin in two. More swarmed from the tunnel like ants, swords in hand.
Savven deflected, bringing his sword around lightly, parrying blows and striking when he saw an opening. Soon, the enemies’ numbers decreased, but Savven’s sensitive ears picked up rapidly approaching footfalls. He ran to his father’s side.
“What have you done!” his father screamed, his emotions feral.
Savven flinched as if he had been struck.
Nydeth knelt on the floor over his dead mate, silent tears streaming down his ashen face as he rocked her body in his arms, his copper hair a shield of fire around them.
“We will mourn later,” Savven said, his voice shaking despite himself. “She would not want you to die in her wake. By my breath, today will not be the last day you are king.”
Nydeth squeezed his eyes shut before he gave a short nod. With a snarl, he snapped the arrow from his mate’s back and cradled her in his arms, her blood soaking through his armour, ink-black hair spilling over. Standing, he turned to Savven. “I will take her to the seas of Ligorin. Can you hold them off long enough?”
“Yes, reinforcements are coming. Pass her onto the sea. I will send word for your return when all of this ends.” He bent down and kissed his mother’s brow. “Fair passage, Father.”
Nydeth paused, a coldness in his eyes Savven had never seen before. “Bring death to them all. Show them no kindness.” With those final words, he turned and ran. Away from the battle, apart from his son, his dead mate in his arms.
Savven turned toward the approaching enemy, his thin sword dripping with blood, his face grim. The oncoming footsteps shook the ground as he waited. A moment later revealed a mass of black eyes and snarling faces that had once been of his own race, falling through the tunnel’s arch like a black wave. They had been lured in by Ezra, drawn by the power he held. They were relentless and merciless.
Laudin stepped through the passage, surveying the hall calmly before his eyes landed on Savven.
Savven’s grip tightened on his blade, and he snarled. Thoughts of his mother and what they had done to her filled him with icy rage. He gave a great cry and lunged forward, slicing through the horde, all but a blur.
They would all die for what they had done. Of that, he was sure.
Fifty years later
The wind howled against the mountain, creating an eerie chill in the midnight hours of the summer night. A new moon was overhead, but the stars glowed against the blackness in a vibrant overcast of light.
The Black Forest lay in waiting behind a female figure as she stared up from the base of the mountain. A cloak of dark velvet green was clasped around her shoulders, and a hood thrown over her head concealed her in shadows.
The sound of wings met her ears. She turned to see the body of neither man nor beast land just feet away. His wings were leathery and the colour of the moonless night. His form was scarcely clad, revealing the body of a warrior marked with age-old scars that marred his chest and arms from battles previously fought and won. Black leather tightly encased his lower half. Golden eyes glowed out from the shadows as he stepped nearer to her.
Her voice was firm when she spoke, “Take me to Valdren.”
The male stepped forward and bowed his head, a deep gravelled tone filling the silence, “As you command, my lady.” He did not wait for her permission but raised her in his arms and expanded his wings. He pushed himself from the earth with one mighty shove, and in moments they were sky-borne.
The earth rushed away from them, and she looked down to see it becoming smaller with each thrust of his wings. The mountain’s peak loomed closer as the heavens came within her reach, and the earth was all but a pinprick.
Landing softly, the beat of his wings came to a halt. Setting her down, he stepped aside, bowing his head once and diving off the mountain’s ledge. Soaring high into the air seconds later.
Fire was encased in ornate golden globes suspended in the air, lining the smooth stone walls. The air shimmered with heat the further she transcended into the mountain. The walk curved, forking, and she followed it right. Each step allowed her to ease the building emotions that rallied through her chest, she took a calming breath and came to a halt in front of massive wooden doors.
Two dragons were carved into the wood, faced away from each other with wings held high and inlaid with gold—the seal of the dragon council. The doors opened of their own accord with a soft creek, and she stepped inside.
A towering circular room greeted her. Black obsidian floors and sky-high pillars decorated the space, with orbs of fire hanging between each post, flooding the room with a light that bounced off the glassy walls, casting shadows. A golden council table stood curved against the backdrop of the sky, where the black and gold tapestry with the official seal of the dragon council lay as a marker behind it, its gold-fringed hem fluttering in a soft breeze.
At the head of the council sat Valdren, the dragon’s keeper, in gold robes cinched at the waist. His grey hair was combed neatly back at the nape of his neck, his bright gold eyes tracking her entrance. The chief of the Drago clan sat beside him; on his other side sat the general of his army and, beside him, the chief’s selected heir.
The great golden dragon, Forndýr, lay proudly around the back corner of the council, close to Valdren’s side. His massive tail swept idly along the stone floor, the black barbed end barely held high enough to avoid scraping against the stone. Golden scales the size of her head shimmered in the firelight, and long, twisting black horns curved out the top of Forndýr’s head. The council room barely held his massive size, and the female, still unused to the dragon’s sheer monstrous size, felt her heart stutter when the dragon turned large reptilian gold eyes to stare down at her.
The female took her place in front of them and lifted a hand to her face, slowly removing the hood of her cloak.
“Welcome, Anabelle, Keeper of the Forest.”
Anabelle bowed her head in acknowledgement to Forndýr when his voice filled her head, placing a soft hand over her heart in a salute, speaking down their silent connection, “My greetings, Forndýr.”
Valdren stood at the head, speaking clearly, “Welcome, Keeper.”
Anabelle turned her attention to the Dragon Keeper. “I came as you requested of me, Valdren.” Her black hair and violet-blue eyes glowed in the orange and yellow light of the fire. The ancient dragon script tattooed upon her skin shimmered like water in the sun every time she moved.
Valdren retook his seat, a look of deep thought etched onto his unmarked face. “We have gathered here to discuss the plight that has eaten at our world, destroyed our villages, and caused so much death.”
Anabelle said nothing.
“With this war raging, I must ask something of you that has never been done before. This will not be easy to ask this of you, Keeper.”
“What is it?” Her voice was quiet in contrast to Valdren’s.
“If there came a time where it was necessary for you to take Ezra’s life... would you be able to?”
His question was a simple one, and if it had been anyone else… but it was Ezra, how could she kill him, even after all he had done to this world. Anabelle heard the cries of the earth. They were sobbing. Pain littered everything she encountered, and it drained her significantly of her energy. But Ezra! How could she kill someone she called a friend and kin. He had given her life; she could not take his in return.
Anabelle’s heart clenched, and her head bowed, ashamed. “No, Valdren, I would not.”
“As I assumed,” Valdren said, his voice gentle.
Anabelle looked up at him and saw nothing but kindness, mingled with a sadness created by war, in his gaze.
“We fear the darkness is spreading again, and only the keeper will be strong enough to withstand. To fight at its core. Will you step down and allow this person to be your successor?”
Her brows furrowed. “Was that not my duty, no matter what?”
The chief of the Drago clan spoke up, his voice deep, his dark eyes warm though unwavering. “This will require you to step down within the coming years, perhaps sooner.”
Anabelle looked between the chief and Valdren before she shot wide eyes to Forndýr. “This is because of what you showed me, isn’t it?”
She remembered the day she received the dragon’s blessing almost three hundred years ago and the visions she received with them. Fire, ash, and golden eyes still burned into her memory, and every day since, when life is spilt, and Ezra’s name is called in the remnants of ruined villages, she is reminded.
“Yes, Keeper,” Forndýr said gently.
“You have served this world and its people well, a feat that is not easily accomplished. With Ezra’s dark powers shadowing this world, I fear there may come a time when death must call again by the keeper’s hands.”
A light laugh filled the chamber. “My, my, you are surely the most dramatic old male I have ever heard.”
All eyes whipped to the shadows, where an adolescent girl emerged. Her pin-straight black hair came just below her chin, her eyes nearly black, and her skin pale. Her thin mouth pulled into a smirk as she eyed Valdren.
“Tatius,” the Dragon Keeper greeted warily, eyeing her up and down. “You’ve grown.”
“Valdren, war does that to a God of Death,” she purred, a glint in her eyes as she stalked forward. A black floor-length gown sheathed her slight frame like shadows as she hopped onto the council table.
The clan leader stood, mouth twisting, his fists anchored to the table. “Why do you come?” he demanded.
Tatius raised a brow, sliding a look to the male. “Tut, tut, Kladine, where are your manners? This involves me too, wouldn’t you think?”
His face turned red at her scolding despite her enquiring tone. “I will not listen to the likes of a child!” he blustered, cutting his eyes to Valdren, who sat patiently, watching the girl.
Tatius’s face turned deadly, walking slowly on bare feet to Kladine.
The fire flickered in the chamber, dimming as the shadows grew, and Kladine was pushed back into his seat with a thud. Bands of air restrained him as Tatius bent forward, her lips curling back into a sneer. “Child I may look, but I am also the God of Immortality. And while you may be immortal, oh precious clan leader, I am the one who gifted it to you… do not make me change my mind.”
Her words were barely above a whisper, but Anabelle shivered as ice crawled down her spine.
The flames grew brighter, and the shadows retreated. Tatius skipped down the table and jumped off. Kladine’s face had paled, but something simmered behind his dark eyes. Anabelle couldn’t place it before her attention went to the small God.
Anabelle knelt before Tatius, going to eye level with her.
A whisper of a smile lifted her lips as Tatius said, “You were never meant to be keeper for its entirety, Anabelle. The world is at play, and change is swift approaching.”
Her words struck her, and Anabelle’s eyes glittered in the light with unshed tears. “This isn’t about Ezra, is it?”
Tatius was silent, and Anabelle found her answer in that silence as the small God tilted her head like a cat eyeing a canary.
Forndýr spoke so all would hear his thoughts, “Your strength and love for this world is why you were chosen as keeper—Anabelle, you are at no fault.”
His voice ran through the chamber in a warm gravelled wave, and Tatius’s eyes rolled in exasperation as the dragon tried to ease the ache evident on Anabelle’s face.
“You served this world proudly. We ask now that you allow a successor to come before the time in which the laws of the Fae have been decreed. This one, chosen by the dragons.”
Anabelle stared at Forndýr, his words ringing in the hall. She balled her hands into fists, hidden within the folds of her cloak, as her heart raced behind its cage.
Taking a slow, deep breath, she raised her chin and sealed away her emotions, stating, “I have given everything to this world, and while it has given me everything in return, it has also taken much of what I hold dear. I want only to protect those residing in her and the light that this world craves to survive. If I am not the one to do that, I will accept this new successor against all laws if they deem to take on the role.” She looked directly at Valdren. “I will fight for you, both as keeper and as nothing more than a soldier. Please do not disappoint me with the one you choose.”
Kladine’s heir stood abruptly, a winged male with ink-black hair and a cruel face. “You dare make demands?! You dare assume there is fallibility within the dragons?!” His voice was harsh with anger, and his near-black eyes flashed dangerously.
Forndýr lifted his head and looked at the male standing. A deep, rumbling growl filled the chamber until the fire flickered, vibrating the mountain beneath her feet. Menacing and filled with warning, his lips curled back, revealing fangs as long as Anabelle’s forearm, and a plume of hot steam billowed from his nostrils. Those gold eyes fixated on the male whose teeth were bared at Anabelle, anger and pride flashing in his dark gaze.
Unlike the heir, the Drago army’s general stayed seated, utterly unbothered by the angry dragon at his back. Though his green eyes flashed with annoyance at the heir. It was there and gone before Anabelle could discern it.
Anabelle’s mouth pursed at his biting tone, her eyes narrowing slightly, and she rolled her shoulders back as she looked at the male. “Yes, I do,” she replied smoothly. “Because I am the keeper, I will step down only if I feel they will be selfless in their duties and protect every living thing in this world. We are willing to die to protect what we love. That is the role of the keeper. So yes, I dare to make demands and presumptions against your infallibility. Until such times come, I am the keeper. I must protect this world. So, bring this chosen one. Let us see their strength.”
Another rumbling growl filled with approval, and Forndýr laid his head back down, his gold eyes blinking at her and his tail curling behind the table. If Anabelle could guess, those black barbs at the end were waiting directly behind the heir’s chair.
The council was silent in her challenge besides Tatius’s amused scoff.
“Well, well, Keeper, how far you have come since the day you gave your life to me,” mused Tatius, a wicked glint in her eye.
They would bring this chosen one, and Anabelle would soon see if they were worthy of upholding the challenges of this world.
Chapter One
“Now boarding flight 9104 departing to Hornberg, Germany.”
Hazel eyes stared up at the ceiling for a moment, as if trying to find a face to match the voice that spoke out of the intercom. With a low groan, Hazen grabbed her laptop bag and stood, pushing her blonde hair out of the way as it got caught in the strap. Following her parents to the terminal gate, where a smiling woman was checking their tickets.
“Have a nice flight,” she said pleasantly as Hazen handed her the ticket.
“Thank you,” she said softly, following the line into the terminal.
“Hazen, wait,” called her mother, and she slowed her steps.
Claris Solvaya lengthened her strides to catch up to her daughter, her ash blonde bun wobbling atop her head. “Hazen, are you okay, love?” Her mouth was pulled into a slight frown, her brows furrowed in worry.
Hazen gave her mother a small smile, squeezing her bicep softly. “Mum, I’m fine, I promise. I’m just tired.”
“You just seem so… withdrawn. Are you sure you’re okay?”
She hummed, nodding her head and readjusting the strap of her bag. “I’m okay, I promise.”
“Is everything okay with Robbie?”
Hazen rubbed her eyes, taking in a deep breath. “We broke up, Mum.”
“No!” Claris exclaimed, taking several steps forward as the queue moved, but her gaze was solely on her daughter. “What happened?”
Life had happened. Robbie and she started dating in year eleven of secondary school, and they wanted to take a gap year after they finished their A-levels. For a whole year, Hazen did nothing but work a part-time job at her local pub in Eastbourne and travel a bit locally.
At the end of last year, she had started to look into going to university, but Robbie had other plans; those plans were located in Bali. While Bali seemed like a fantastic idea, Hazen couldn’t see herself there with Robbie. So she ended things, and he hopped on a flight to Indonesia the next day.
Hazen shrugged. “I saw us going in different directions, so I ended things.”
Claris sighed, looping her arm around her daughter’s shoulders. “Well, what if I promise you this is a boy-free vacation, minus the old men. And you can laze around all you want if you promise me that you’ll try and have a good time. It’s been years since your father has gone home, and I know the grandparents will probably want to spoil you rotten.” She stopped and turned Hazen, a fierce look in her eyes. “Good riddance to him. He was never good enough for you.”
Hazen raised a brow, noting her mother’s hazel eyes pleading with her own; her mother’s were more green, whereas hers were more gold. Laughing under her breath, she kissed her mother’s cheek quickly. “No boys, you promised.”
She laughed, giving her hand an affectionate squeeze. “I’ll even pinkie promise if that’s what you want!” She looked over her shoulder. “We’re holding up the queue. Come on.”
Hazen glanced behind them, seeing the line starting to form and the impatient stares that followed. Sighing, she followed her mother into the small jet plane.
Her father, Jorg, followed behind shortly after they found their seats and shoved his carry-on in the top compartment before joining his wife and daughter. Starting up a conversation with Claris just as he sat down.
