Unchosen Mage (Legend of Ravenwood) Read online

  Krys was about to lecture his friend, but was stopped by a stiff wind that blew all around them. His cloak twisted and furled and the trees seemed to blow in all directions at once. The entire surface of the barrier vibrated. The grey interior turned blood-red and the currents within agitated in violent eddies. “Oh, no!”

  The barrier bulged outward. They had to get away from it. But grey appendages burst out of the slice and wrapped around Peter. They pulled him toward the barrier.

  Krys grabbed Peter’s cloak but almost immediately lost his grip. The tendrils reached out and snagged Krys. He dug his heels in the dirt and frantically tried to stop his motion.

  They were swept into the air and tumbled toward the wall.

  Krys’ feet hit the barrier first. A tingling sensation traveled up his legs and covered his body. He yelled, but the wind tore his shout away. The barrier drew him in, a second later, Peter popped through the opening. With a loud sucking noise, the hole in the barrier sealed.

  The tingling in his skin ceased as thick matter surrounded him.

  Terrified, Krys held his breath, frantically looking for a place to get air. He didn’t want to inhale the dense, gelatinous substance. He rubbed the material between his fingers and found it was not wet as he’d expected.

  He looked at Peter, whose eyes were wide and face pale.

  Unable to hold his breath any longer, he drew in a lungful, expecting to drown. But it felt like air entering his lungs. “What is this stuff?” His voice sounded hollow and distant in his own ears.

  Peter shook his head. Krys had never known his friend to be at a loss for words.

  Reaching out, Krys touched the wall they had been drawn through, then the wall bordering the dark section of Ravenwood Forest. He struggled, but didn’t find enough substance to allow him to move his entire body toward either. He looked down to find his feet no longer touched the ground. He and Peter were suspended several inches above the quiet stream.

  Krys glared at Peter, angry for doing something so dangerous. He tried to shove Peter, but was unable to move closer to him. “We’re trapped. Why did you do that?”

  “Hey, I got us in,” Peter said.

  Krys saw fear in his friend’s eyes. “We needed to get through, not in.” Krys struggled to push through the wall, but still couldn’t move in the thick material. He reached out with his dagger but was unable to make even the smallest slice. “What the hell’s the matter with you? I told you not to do it!”

  No answer came from Peter.

  “Now what do we do?” Krys kicked and clawed at the material.

  No matter how hard they thrashed, they remained stuck in the same place.

  After about an hour they gave up trying.

  “It’s no good.” Krys blew out a breath through pursed lips, still amazed he saw no bubbles in the thick material. “What is this stuff?”

  Peter shook his head.

  Exhausted, Krys closed his eyes. The sensation of floating within the material was pleasant. He opened his eyes and looked at the sun beyond the barrier. It’s higher in the trees now. How long have we been trapped? He glanced at Peter who rummaged in his food sac. “Quit eating! There’s no telling how long we’ll be in here.” He let out an exasperated sigh.

  Peter’s head whipped around to Krys. “Do you think we’ll be trapped forever?” The pitch in his voice rose with each word. He dug through his sack with increased fervor. Krys knew Peter was estimating how many days—or hours—in regards to Peter’s eating habits—they could survive on their supplies.

  “Not if we get out of here,” Krys said as he attempted another push toward the barrier’s edge.

  Their continued attempts to move were futile. No matter how hard they tried, there seemed to be no escape.

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  Chapter 7 - The Dark Forest

  Krys stopped struggling against the strange material of the barrier. He wondered how everything got so out of control. As he floated in the wall, a strange sensation moved along his feet and up his ankles. “Peter! I’m starting to lose the feeling in my legs!”

  He glanced sideways at his friend, who stared dead ahead at the place they had come from, unmoving.

  “Answer me,” he yelled. “We’ve got to get out of here! Something’s happening—something bad.” He struggled to move, but still could not. “What are you looking at?”

  “I’m imagining a pretty girl in the forest, coming to rescue us,” Peter said.

  Krys followed Peter’s gaze. He squinted and saw a girl standing by a tree outside the barrier, no older than he or his friend. His heart quickened. “That’s not your imagination.” He strained to see her clearly through the barrier. Dressed in brown pants tucked into knee-high boots, brown tunic, and a long dark green vest, she almost blended into the forest background.

  “Do you need some help?” She walked toward them. Her muffled voice, amplified by her cupped hands, permeated the barrier.

  Krys tried to walk toward her, but his feet still wouldn’t reach the ground. “This barrier is gonna kill us,” he yelled.

  The girl stepped to the edge of the wall and raised her gaze to Krys. Though distorted by the currents in the thick liquid, he could still make out her green eyes as they glimmered from the shadows of her brown wide-brimmed hat. “How, in all Lanterra, did you get in such a mess?”

  “It’s a long story.” He glared at Peter, and then looked back to the girl. “Can you help us get out of here?”

  “I think so.” She dropped her satchel on the ground, extracted a pair of leather gloves and pulled them on. She removed her vest, laying it and her hat on the satchel. She tied her long, light brown hair back with a leather cord.

  Turning her attention to the surface of the barrier, she poked it with a gloved finger. “It’s going to be tricky.”

  Walking up and down in front of the barrier, she looked at the ground. “—portal along the snow path. Do not waver, lest you become ensnared,” she recited.

  “You need to hurry,” Krys yelled and then realized what she had said. “How do you know those words?”

  She didn’t answer, but stopped at the stream that flowed over the white stones and watched the water run through the barrier just below Krys and Peter’s feet. Then she walked about five long strides each way. She never took her eyes off the edge of the barrier where it contacted the ground. She continued repeating the lines from the journal under her breath.

  Krys shouted to her again, “How do you know that passage?”

  Still, she did not answer, but continued to study the ground. At last she stopped, bent down and began to scrape at the top layer of soil next to the barrier, but about three strides from the stream.

  “What are you doing over there?” Peter yelled. “The passage is right here.” He pointed to the area below his feet.

  She picked something up and looked at it. Smiling, she rose and walked to where Krys and Peter hung in the barrier. She held up the white stone. “You tried to enter in the wrong place.”

  “But,” Krys said. “We followed the path of snow.” He pointed to the streambed.

  “The water way changed course over time,” she said. “The opening is over there.” She pointed to the place she had dug the rock out of the ground. “I’ll see if I can free you.” She walked to a nearby tree and cut a long branch twice her height and stripped the smaller shoots from it with a dagger. She returned to the path she uncovered and stepped into the barrier. Krys noticed she met no resistance. Inside, she turned toward them and extended the limb to the boys. “Grab this,” she said.

  “How did she do that?” Krys whispered.

  He extended his hand and took hold of the branch. When his fingers wrapped around it, he reached back and grabbed Peter’s outstretched arm and pulled him to the branch.

  “You have no idea how glad we are to see you,” Peter said.

  Hand over hand, the boys moved themselves through the thick material toward the girl.

  When Krys reached
the opening, he fell into a space devoid of the substance. He scrambled back into the safety of the tranquil woods. The thick goo appeared to be wrapped around him as he moved away from the barrier. It stretched and let go, snapping back to the undulating wall with a ‘pop’.

  It clung to, then let go of Peter the same way; but not to the girl.

  Krys looked down at his clothing. It was bone-dry. He shook his head. “What kind of stuff is in that barrier?” He looked up and down the surface of it.

  The girl’s brow furrowed. “Nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

  “Thanks for getting us out of there. I’m Krys from Ravenwood Village.” He extended his hand to her.

  Peter pushed himself between Krys and the girl. “Yeah, thanks. I’m Peter.” He had a broad smile on his face.

  Krys knew that look. His friend displayed it any time they met a pretty girl. He shoved Peter out of the way.

  The girl looked from one to the other, then back at Krys. “I’m Navashay Foxglove from Hibbard Village.”

  “You’re a long way from home,” said Krys as the three youths walked to where Navashay had dropped her satchel. “Were you in Ravenwood for the Choosing?”

  “No,” she said. “I was chosen two years ago. I was the youngest healer-apprentice ever taken in Lanterra.”

  “How old are you?” Peter asked.

  “Fourteen.”

  “You were young!” said Krys. “So, how did you know that passage about the portal in the barrier?”

  “I was sent here.” She pulled her vest on and belted it. “I’m supposed to meet a wizard named Raven at—”

  “Ravenwood Castle,” Navashay and Krys said at the same time.

  “Raven! Who sent you?” Peter asked as he retrieved her satchel and handed it to her.

  “An old woman. I don’t know her name.”

  Krys and Peter looked at each other, then at Navashay.

  “And she told you—” Krys said.

  “Seek the Wizard Raven through the dark forest.” She looked around her. “It took me two moon cycles to figure out what forest she spoke of.” She put her gloves away, then plopped her hat on her head. “She read me a passage from an old book and told me to remember it.”

  Krys pulled the journal from his pouch and held it out. “This old book?”

  She looked at the journal and then into Krys’ eyes. “Well, yeah. But how did you get it?”

  “She visited me yesterday.” Krys dropped his gaze to the ground, remembering the vivid images of the old woman’s death and the fire that destroyed his home.

  The girl looked around. “Well, where is she?”

  Krys sighed and his shoulders drooped. “She was murdered.” He told her briefly what had happened back at his cottage.

  Navashay’s mouth dropped open. She stared at Krys for a moment, and then shook her head. “I can’t believe this. She’s dead? I didn’t get to ask her things I wanted to know.”

  “Well, she evidently spent even less time with us. I hardly learned anything.”

  Navashay cocked her head and narrowed her eyes. “You’re Krystomere Anderwood, aren’t you?”

  “Y-Yes. But—How did you know—”

  “The old woman,” Navashay and Krys said together.

  “Looks like we’re both involved in this,” Navashay said.

  “That old woman sure covered a lot of territory,” Peter said.

  She scrunched her brow. “You weren’t called by the old woman, were you—Peter, right?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, Peter, Peter Greenleaf.” He slapped Krys on the back. “I came along to help out.”

  “You may wish you didn’t, based on the impression I got from her,” Navashay said.

  Peter’s eyes opened wide. “Is it too late to go home?”

  Krys ignored his friend and faced Navashay. “Since we’re all heading for the same place, we should travel together.”

  Her face broke out in a smile. “That would be great. It’ll be nice to have someone to talk to for the rest of the journey.”

  A knot formed in Krys’ stomach and heat rose in his cheeks as he looked upon her. She had beautiful eyes that shone when she smiled. He turned quickly to Peter. “We better get going. Raven is waiting. Navashay won’t be able to meet him unless I free him first.”

  She adjusted her satchel on her shoulder. “It’s going to be a difficult journey. I didn’t realize the danger until the elder healer of Hibbard explained the curse all of Lanterra has suffered since Raven was lost. The magic will only get more unstable as time goes by. That’s why I came. Not because an old woman I’d never met before told me to, but because of what Grimm set in motion centuries ago. And that it all has something to do with me.” She pointed a finger at Krys. “And you.”

  A tremor rose from the pit of Krys’ gut. He swallowed his fear, turned, and led the way into the breach in the barrier. It seemed it was a tunnel of sorts, free of the thick material Krys and Peter had been trapped in. Krys hurried through.

  The dark interior of the cursed forest seemed to close in on Krys. A feeling of evil hung all around him. He turned to jump back through the passage and into the safe woods on the other side. But the hole had sealed. There was no going back now, no escape.

  “So, which way should we go?” Navashay scanned the oppressive darkness.

  “You didn’t have a plan to follow when you got here?” asked Peter. “Neither did we,” he added under his breath.

  “The old woman told me I would be shown the way. But she didn’t tell me how.”

  “Well, she told you more than she told us,” Krys said. “Of course, she was in a big hurry when she came to me.” He opened the journal in the darkness. Pointing his finger at the pages, he tried to produce light several times, but failed. He could feel his face flushing. Why did this always happen at the worst times?

  Peter conjured a small glowing orb and handed it to his friend.

  Krys ignored the questioning look Navashay gave him. “The castle is east of here.” He strained to see, but the darkness obscured most of the wooded land. He squinted past Peter and saw a huge tree, larger than Krys had ever seen in the lighter part of the forest on the other side of the barrier. “Everything’s pretty overgrown. I doubt we’ll be able to keep a steady course or pace through all this.” He looked at the page again. “Wow!” He looked up at the other two. “There’s new writing.” He held out the journal and let go of the light ball. It hovered above their heads.

  Among the sleeping fairies of the hollow,

  Discover that of nary insistent need.

  No passage to this place will remain,

  For what will be required in time.

  “I guess we have to find something here in the forest,” Peter said as he scanned the darkness.

  “Why can’t this journal talk in real words?” Krys asked.

  “They are real words,” Navashay said. “We have to look for something that we’ll need eventually. We’ll find it among some sleeping fairies. And if we don’t find it now, we won’t be able to come back for it later.”

  “You related to Peter or something?” Krys asked.

  Navashay lifted an eyebrow. “No. Why?”

  “That sounded like something he would say.” Krys waved his hand. “Never mind.” He blew out a breath and looked at the journal page again. “It can’t be that simple,”

  “But it is.” Peter smirked. “It makes perfect sense.”

  Krys looked from one to the other. “Okay, we’ll do it your way.” He closed the journal and returned it to his pouch. He tried to take a step forward when he felt something wrap around his ankles and wind up his legs. “What the—” He tried to jump away from the spot.

  “Something’s got me too,” Peter cried out.

  “Capture vines!” Navashay swatted an orange vine with small suction cups opening and closing along fuzzy stems as they neared her feet. It made a shrieking noise and recoiled. “Their magic is still working. If we don’t move now, we’ll be
trapped—forever.”

  Krys poked at the entangled vines around his leg with a stick. One particularly thick vine didn’t budge and its coiling fingers tightened. “Get it off me.” He kicked his leg, trying to dislodge the parasite.

  Peter grabbed the vine and it wound around his hands and arms.

  Navashay whacked the creepers loose with a broken branch. “Move away. They have a limited reach.”

  The trio jogged between the shaded trunks of enormous trees. The limbs and tangled brush reached for them as they passed. The glowing ball Peter had conjured drifted through the forest above their heads. Shadows danced amongst the trees and tangled growth around them.

  “You were going to travel through this forest alone?” Peter asked.

  “I’m not some scared little girl, you know.” She raised her chin.

  “You sure she’s not related to you?” Krys whispered to Peter.

  “Her? Not a chance. Why?” Peter whispered back.

  “Oh, no reason.” Krys chuckled. He felt scratchy fingers tickling his face from above. He looked up. Large clusters of stringy moss hung from the branches. He jumped away from them, fearing what the moss might be hiding.

  He felt suffocated as he inhaled the thick, humid air. “It’s getting harder to breathe.” He strained to see through the dim light. Ahead, Peter tripped and fell.

  Krys and Navashay ran to him.

  Peter was lying on a thick carpet of hornwort moss. Like the capture vines, thread-like offshoots snaked out of the mat and began to ensnare him, but each sprout was as thin as a single hair. He thrashed, panic in his eyes. “Do something!” He strained against his bonds. “I can’t move!”

  The healer extended her hands above the growth. Krys had no idea what she was doing, or why. Her face bore the look of intense concentration. Moments later, the moss began to recede.

  Peter struggled. He kicked his legs and thrashed his arms, and finally freed himself. He jumped up and stared at the dim patch of undulating moss. “Kerkotimon borwista,” he said. Another intense white light came alive at his fingertip. He held his hand down to illuminate the growth. “This is some strange moss!”