Page 1 of Aofie's Quest
Chapter One
A sharp wind whistled,loosening the clustered balls of purple heather that clung like burs to the verdant bushes. They were crushed up against the ancient trees like woodland animals seeking shelter from a storm. Except this was no storm. Lifting my arms I let the wind sway them back and forth as I listened for a voice, a sign, anything. I strained to hear above the roar of the wind in the leaves and shrill hoots of the Amaca birds. I stood on a hillock in the Beluar Woods, land of the centaurs, hoping for guidance.
Wisps of white filtered through the air and I held my eyes open, fighting against the pain of the wind against my eyeballs, forcing tears to streak down my face. I had ascended the hillock to visit the gods, for I needed direction. It was my eighteenth birthday, which meant it was time to determine my next steps in the path of life and my purpose in Labraid.
I lived with the centaurs—a powerful race combining the strengths of human and horse. The centaurs ruled the Beluar Woods and dominated in battle, united to fight a common enemy: those who sought to hunt them. Huntsmen who entered the woods were brought to their knees, and those who survived spread the warning. To hunt in the sacred wood was a death sentence. People were only allowed to enter when escorted directly to the sacred hillocks to worship or beg the gods for a gift.
Ancient redwood trees rose in a circle above me, as old as the ground I stood on. Weighty branches reached to the heavens and the wide trunks were over twenty hands in diameter. It smelled like wisdom up there, with the rich red soil, the mossy tree limbs, white petals, and heather bushes. Even the rush of wind could not mask the deep knowing that life gave way on the hillock. New growth paid heed to the old and the young saplings bowed before the elder trees, requesting help on their journey to the sky, so that they, too, might pay homage to the sky and sun and grow in the blessing of warmth. I also desired a blessing, but unlike the trees, I did not belong in the wood. I was a human called Aofie.
A branch covered with bright green moss moved. At first, I thought it was the wind which blew in circles around me, creating smaller cyclones which twirled around my arms and even smaller ones that danced on my fingertips. A bubble of magic gurgled up within me. I opened my mouth to say a prayer, but the wind filled me, and the moss-covered branch walked toward me. Words faded, turned into useless thoughts. For unless one speaks aloud, the gods cannot hear and cannot grant one’s request. Goosebumps rose on my suntanned arms and my blood turned cold.
The branch walking toward me was not a branch at all, but a vague shape with the same coloring as the redwood trees. It towered over me, a luminous robe of moss green billowing in and out as it studied me out of dark eyes. It held out a hand, dry as dark tree bark. I tried to move, but my arms felt trapped in ice, the wind holding them tight. Strands of my blood-red hair tugged free from my braid and bounced back and forth in the wind. My breath came fast and heavy until I breathed through my mouth, each breath swept away by the relentless wind. I wanted to run, hide, but it was too late.
“Aofie Mor,” the wood-like shape said, pronouncing my name with a high, unbroken voice. It drew out the first syllable so it sounded likeeee-fie.
My mouth moved, but the wind was too strong, and all sound died in my throat.
“Why have you come to the glade of gods when you know who you are and what you must do? Why do you delay?”
The question came out reproachful, with a hint of hurt, like I should have left the safety of the Beluar Woods the moment I turned eighteen and could hold a sword by myself. Self-pitying excuses filled my thoughts, but the being continued.
“We have watched you grow in strength and knowledge. You feel less than, and that will help you, for humility is necessary when you have the ability to sway the fate of many lives. You have royalty in your blood, which calls you to a harsh path. A path you must not forsake if you wish to fulfill your destiny. However, the choice ultimately lies in your hands. It is you who must have the passion and the strength to do what needs to be done. If you do not understand the ways of men, visit the kingdom of men and learn. If you need supporters and allies, look at what you have now and what you could gain. Everything you need is already in your hands; all you need is the courage to take the first step, leave the woods, begin your quest.”
A surge of frustration blocked the coolness in my blood, and heat flared in my cheeks. I did not have everything I needed, which was why I’d made the journey to the hillock. I knew what the being spoke of, for I was the daughter of the king, Conan Mor, and the queen, Ceana Mor. A lump filled my throat as I thought of them. I never knew them, but the centaurs told me they had fled for their lives when the kingdom of men was taken by Kedron Abaddon, the angel of death.
I was brought to the centaurs—the strongest race—to be raised in hiding until the time came for me to take back my kingdom. Except I hadn’t the faintest clue how to defeat the angel of death, and more than anything, I wanted to seek out my mother. I did not feel like royalty either, but sometimes magic stirred in my fingertips, which told me it must be true. But who was I to rally armies and take back the kingdom? If I rallied the centaurs to fight the angel of death and his armies, surely many would die.
Kedron Abaddon had ruled, unchecked, for eighteen years. I knew nothing about ruling, power, or thrones, nor the kingdom of men. Just because I was the rightful heir did not mean I wanted the throne, or to be caught up in a war which cost lives and spilled blood. War was like a disease, a poison spreading throughout the body, destroying and weakening it. The centaurs had taught me to hunt, to fight, but war was different from sparring with the centaurs.
The wind released me and I dropped to the ground like a disgraced tree branch. I caught myself with my palms, but they still scraped against twigs and stone, rubbing my skin raw. Tears, forced by the wind, dripped from my chin, but I lifted my head, searching for the being whose feet I knelt before. I wondered which of the gods he was and why he told me I had a choice. I didn’t have a choice in what had happened to my parents, or being born like nothing, squalling in the mud of the woods. The centaurs had taught and trained me to be a warrior princess, but they would not accept me if I came down from the hillock and announced I was staying. Nay, the Beluar wood was no place for me anymore. I had to go forth, like a warrior in training, and take first blood. I had no choice, but I needed direction.
Opening my mouth, I found the wind no longer held my tongue. Keeping my head down and eyes focused on the being’s root-like feet, I spoke. “Pardon me, oh great one, for speaking in your presence. I ask for your guidance on my quest, for I do not know where to begin. If I leave the forest, the whole of the land is open to me.”
A pressure touched my head and the smell of rich soil increased as a hand pushed me down until I lay flat on my belly like a wounded beast, ready to be skinned. I choked, gasping for air, and tried to turn my head before it was pushed into the dirt. Tears streamed out of my eyes as I struggled in vain. A voice bellowed. My nose sank into the soil and my eyes, although closed, could see the tangled root system beneath the ground. The roots stretched toward water, where they drank heavily and greedily. The stream turned into a river and twisted through the woods, following a path out to the wild moors where hills and valleys rose like the crisp, clear notes of a flute. There, on the edge of the river, perched a log house, and when the door opened, I knew I needed to speak to whoever was inside. I wheezed. The vision faded and the pressure on my head disappeared. I sat up fast, coughing and spitting mud out of my mouth. Wiping my eyes with the back of my sleeve, I struggled to regain my vision. When I stood upright again, I was alone on the hillock and the wind was gone.
Chapter Two
Red rubble churnedunder my bare feet as I ran down the wooded hill, back to the habitation where the centaurs dwelled. Dirt clung to my face and clogged my ears and nose, but the vision of that log house rippled into my memory again and again. I had to see if my mother lived there, for understanding my past was the key to unlocking my future. Meeting my mother would give me enough knowledge to make a choice. Hope stirred in my heart at the thought of finding my parents, although I also considered a reality where they were lost to me forever. One day we would unite again, perhaps across the sacred battle plains in the glorious heavens where the gods and goddesses brought the pure, faithful, and true to live in eternity.
“Aofie, what happened to you?”
The question gave me pause. I lurched to a stop, seeking the voice I recognized—my surrogate mother, Epona. She was an imposing figure, standing under the broad leaves of a fig tree. Her dark hair rippled over her shoulders, the muscles of her arms and stomach strong and taut. She wore a breastplate across her chest, and a mesh shirt covered her arms. She carried none of her hunting weapons, for tradition taught us that weapons should not be carried up to the hillock, lest one be struck down for displeasing the gods.
I stumbled to her, knowing I must look a sight with mud caked on my clothes and tear streaks on my face. Epona had taken great care that morning to tightly plait my unruly red hair and dress me in a simple white robe, sleeveless but held together by a crimson ribbon. All that work had gone to waste when the being rubbed my face in the mud.
“The gods have granted me mercy,” I breathed, unable to keep the quiver of anticipation out of my voice. “Much is still hidden from me, but they gave me a quest that I hope will unlock the key to what I should do next.”
Epona’s lips curved back in a smile. Although she did not show her teeth, her deep eyes—black like the night sky—spoke volumes. Concern lined her face, and she reached for me, squeezing my hands until it felt like my bones would crack under her powerful grip. She did not want me to leave, but it was the way and resistance was futile. A human could not stay with the centaurs forever. Even eighteen years had been too long, although the concession had been made because of the centaurs’ loyalty to royal blood. “Blessed be the gods for showing you mercy. Walk with me. We shall go to the brook and cleanse you from your meeting. Tell me all as we walk.”
She let go of my hands, but she did not embrace me. Affection was not common among the centaurs. Their faces were sharp and hard, like chiseled stone, and they spoke truth and wisdom. They worshipped the forest and the bounty it gave them, yet did not shy away from hunting the woodland creatures. They appreciated what could be grown and gathered in the forest. I had grown up under their tutelage and viewed the world from their perspective. At times I felt like I belonged with them, and at other times, especially now, I knew I did not.
Epona set a quick pace through the forest, and I trotted beside her. Her height was impressive and although I was well over five feet tall, my head only came to her waist. All centaurs, once they were no longer children, were much taller than I. Epona wore her jet-black hair unbound and armor on her body to mark her status as a warrior. When I was young, her coat was pure black but now threads of white blended with her tail and around her hooves. She taught the young ones, which was why I was given to her when I was born, so she might teach me the ways of the centaurs and the Beluar woods.
“A being appeared to me,” I started, trotting to keep up with Epona’s long gait.
“What did it look like?” Epona spoke in a hushed voice, her tone laced with reverence.
I furrowed my brow and sucked on the inside of my cheek before answering. Regardless of what I said, my description of the being would sound impudent. “He looked like a moss-covered tree,” I admitted, and explained the vision I’d seen. When I told her about the house, I placed a hand on my lower abdomen. Desire and knowledge quickened within me. “That’s where I have to go first,” I ended.
