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  The Wood Kael

  The Metal Kael

  The Fire Kael

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  The Wood Kael

  The Book of Kaels

  Vol. 2

  By

  Wendy Wang

  Copyright © 2015 by Wendy Wang

  Wendywangauthor.com

  One

  Eryn Hill crossed her arms and stared at the bag her father had put on her bed. Her father kept flitting in and out of her room and up and down the hall, ordering her to get a move on. His frantic thoughts pierced her mind, leaving little puncture wounds. The trip had not even begun yet and already her skin prickled. She closed her eyes and tried to push his panic and fear away from her, but the more she pushed the more persistent his thoughts were. She bowed her head, pinching the bridge of her nose. Why couldn’t they just stay here? Where it was peaceful and quiet?

  Each time he passed her room, his thick, gray hair grew messier. Finally, he stopped in her doorway. “Well?” He frowned and put his hands on his hips. His gray hair glowed from the bright light of the hallway. Eryn clenched her teeth and pulled her arms tighter around her.

  “I don’t want to go,” she said softly. Always softly. Just in case it sent him into a rant.

  “We talked about this.” Impatience burned around the edges of his voice, a flame ready to flare. He had some Fire Kael in him. Sometimes she wished she had that fire inside her. It might have made standing up to him easier. “He’s going to come for us. I’m surprised he hasn’t already.”

  “We’re his family,” she said. Her eyes darted sideways, taking in the details of her father’s tall, wide-shouldered frame. Shadows filled the lines of his face, and the usual light in his hazel eyes was dimmed with agitation and urgency.

  Her stare settled on the heavy canvas bag again. “Peter and Cai are the closest thing to brothers I’ll ever have. I refuse to believe Peter would harm us.” She didn’t dare look at her father as she said the words. Not with his fuse this short.

  “He killed my sister. His own mother,” her father said, his voice rising on the last word. “Don’t be a fool, daughter. He won’t spare us.”

  It was so hard to believe the cousin she had known and loved as a child, who had played games with her in the forest and told her stories about Wood Kaels, could have done the things her father said he’d done. What would drive him to attack the capital of Tamarik and kill not only his mother, but the queen and the heir? Her father had wanted to flee as soon as word had come of the queen’s death but the borders of Ethavia had closed before he could spirit them away. Men in black uniforms with blue stripes calling themselves Guardsmen had begun patrolling the streets. Several of her father’s friends were just gone one day. Missing posters were in almost every window of the shops in the capital of Eschela.

  In the weeks since the borders of Ethavia closed, one thought constantly circled her father’s head. It became so strong in the last two days it had almost taken form. A pale, iridescent halo of fear. We must get to safety. His thoughts rarely escaped his head and she knew he wanted her to hear it. Wanted her to understand his motives. She wrapped her arms tighter across her small breasts, refusing to be swayed.

  “Yes,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “He will.”

  His hand connected with the wood frame of the door and the thunderous sound reverberated around her. She jumped and stole another quick glance. He stared at her, his thick, salt and pepper brows drawn together, causing the line between them—the line that never went away anymore—to grow dark and deep. His nostrils flared and she could feel him fighting his impatience.

  His boots were heavy on the wood floor and she braced herself for something to be broken or thrown. Behind her, the closet door slammed against the wall with such force it made her twist towards the noise. The door, now cracked down the middle, hung loosely on one hinge. Her father rifled through her things, grabbing dresses and trousers and blouses from the wooden hangers, throwing them over the crook of his arm. Normally, she would be angry at such an intrusion but today she didn’t want to tempt the fates. Her father’s hands could be heavy if he was disobeyed. Another Fire Kael trait. One she didn’t ever wish to share.

  His shoulder brushed against hers as he passed, pushing her sideways, and she almost lost her balance. He threw the pile of clothes on the bed.

  “Pack. Now.” Yes, his patience was gone. He clenched his jaw as he spoke. “You have fifteen minutes, or otherwise you will have to make do with what you have on your back.” He turned and left the room. Eryn stared at the pile of rumpled cotton and linen, refusing to move for just a minute more. A small act of rebellion. Finally, she picked up her favorite lilac dress, folded it and placed it inside the canvas bag.

  ******

  They waited till dark before setting off into the woods behind their lovely little cottage. Eryn cast one glance back, her heart aching. This was her home. Where she’d been born. Where her mother died when Eryn was seven. Where she had played and laughed and loved her life. A pang of worry filled her chest as she followed her father into the thick darkness of the trees. Would she ever see her home again?

  “Come on, now,” her father said, motioning her forward. “Keep up.” She took two steps for every one of his, but forced herself to stay close to him.

  The darkness pressed in on them. As a Wood Kael, she could sense the trees and was able to steer clear of them, but the zigging and zagging grew tiresome after a while.

  “Where are we going?” Leaves crunched beneath her boots and she moved the heavy canvas bag from one shoulder to the other.

  “The Sylvae,” her father said.

  Eryn stopped, unable to see anything more than the vague shape of her father’s wide shoulders. “What? That’s the escape plan? A mythical ring of trees? That no one has actually ever seen?” Her stringent tone risked his anger, but she couldn’t help herself.

  “I’ve seen it.” He rounded on her, towering over her, forcing her to crane her neck to look into his darkened face. “And yes. That, my daughter, is the plan.”

  “You’ve seen it?” She took a step backwards. Why had he never mentioned this before? A sapling dug its sharp branches into her shoulder, pushing her towards him again.

  “Yes.” His voice softened. “How do you think it became so mythical if no one has seen it? I can assure you, my love. I have seen it. And it will save us. We will find the Tree of Zoie and it will let us pass through to wherever our heart desires, as long as we are worthy.” He brushed his calloused thumb over her cheek and she pressed her face against his palm. Despite his temper, he was her safe place, had been for all eighteen years of her life.

  Her teeth found her bottom lip and chewed on it for a moment. She debated asking the question but she needed to know. “How will we know if we’re worthy?”

  “It will let us find it.”

  She nodded, still unsure. “When did you see it?”

  He blew a heavy breath through his nose. Even in the deep gloom of the forest, she could see scowl. He always scowled when he thought she lacked faith.

  “When I was a boy. My friends and I got lost in the forest. We stumbled around in the gloom for hours. And the Sylvae appeared. I will never forget seeing the Zoie tree. It was the most mystical moment of my life.” His eyes stared over her should
er for a moment before he smiled at her. “Now, that’s enough questions. We need to go.” He turned and began to walk again.

  “Won’t everyone be looking for it? Even Peter?”

  “Maybe, but he won’t find it.” He shrugged. “And anyway, I’m the one who knows where it is.” He threw the words over his shoulder at her, peppering her with his faith. For a moment, it drove back the cloud of worry surrounding her heart and she picked up her pace, rushing to keep up with him, not wanting to be left in the dark.

  ******

  Her feet and legs ached and she wished she had packed fewer clothes. Hours had passed and a few times her father stopped, dragged his fingertips over a piece of parchment and then continued on. They said very little and didn’t stop to eat or drink anything, even though she knew he’d packed food and two goatskin bags of water.

  The heaviness in her shoulders diminished when the sky lightened, turning the thick darkness into hazy gloom. Her father marched on, though, a madman on a mission to get his daughter to safety. Safety. The word buzzed from his thoughts into hers, a black fly that could never be swatted away. He often accused her of being a worrywart but at the core of it, he worried as much as she did. Maybe even more.

  “We’re almost there.” Excitement filled his voice and he walked a little faster. His hand clutched the parchment tightly, crinkling it. “Take a deep breath, my little Wood Kael. We’ll be safe soon.”

  Her stomach gurgled. “Papa, can we rest a moment?”

  “We’ll rest when we’ve reached our destination.”

  She stopped, dropping her bag on the ground with a thud. “Please, Papa. I’m thirsty and hungry and it’s been hours.”

  Her father turned, his shoulders slumping a little as he looked over his daughter. His eyes drifted back towards the invisible path only he seemed to see. A heavy sigh escaped his lips. “All right, but just for a few minutes.” He led her to a fallen tree and they dropped their load of bags at their feet. Her father handed her one of the goatskins and she drank from the smooth, carved tips. The water slid down her parched throat and she held the last gulp in her mouth, letting it cool her tongue, before swallowing it.

  “How much farther do we have to go?” Eryn asked, pouring a little bit of water into her cupped hand. She leaned forward and washed it over her face and neck.

  “Not too much longer. Maybe fifteen more minutes or so.” Her father took the goatskin from her and drank his fill before plugging the nozzle with the cork. A crow cawed overhead and the tree leaves began to rustle. The forest seemed too quiet for a place normally so full of life. Her father had noticed, too, and quickly scanned the forest. “We need to get going,” he said. The timbre of his tone made the hair on her arms stand up.

  “What is it?” She glanced around, watching the trees for any sign of movement.

  “It’s probably nothing but we should go,” he said, picking up his bag, slinging it onto his shoulders. Eryn hopped to her feet and followed her father as he resumed course.

  Not too much farther ahead of them, her father began a slow run.

  “Come, daughter,” he said over his shoulder. “I see it. It’s just ahead.”

  Eryn slung her bag across her body and tried to catch up. Her breath sounded harsh in her ears and her footfalls too heavy. The skin on the back of her neck tingled and she glanced over her shoulder, unable to shake the feeling of being watched. Then she saw it. A silver ring of trees surrounding an ancient oak, whose branches dipped and dragged on the ground in places. Her heart pounded in her throat and she pushed through the stinging in her thighs.

  “Papa, wait!” she called after him. He passed through the ring of trees and the gigantic oak’s leaves rustled. Then as her father reached it, he fell to his knees, bowing down before it, making his plea to the goddess to find them worthy of passage. A thunderous crack echoed through the ring of trees and the oak split down the middle. She stopped for a second to catch her breath and stare. Was what she seeing real or were her eyes playing tricks on her? The tree split — yes, but it was not split into halves. It became two trees, mirror images of one another.

  “Come on, Eryn!” her father called again, waving his arms madly at her. She waved back, her chest heaving.

  “I’m coming,” she grumbled, resting her palm against a nearby sapling for support. Why had she packed so much into the bag? The tree rustled and an image flashed through her mind — men in black uniforms striped with blue, faceless, moving in small groups, surrounded them. Her eyes scanned the shadows for movement and even in the murkiness of early morning, she could see them. Her heart hammered its way up to her throat.

  “Papa!” Eryn choked out a warning, but it was too late. A bolt of blue light erupted from the umbra.

  “Eryn!” her father screamed. “Move!” Eryn dropped her bag and her legs moved without much coaxing. She pumped her arms as hard as she could, her father motioning her forward as she passed through the ring of trees. A delicate mist hung shimmering between the twin trees. Another bolt of light screeched past her head, striking the base of one of the oaks.

  “Hurry, child,” her father said, sounding farther away now. When she glanced up, he had one foot in the mist and one foot in the realm of Ethavia.

  Something searing hit her between her shoulder blades, sending her sailing forward face first, into the moldy carpet of leaves. Her legs wouldn’t move.

  “Papa!” she cried. She saw him, tearing at his hair, unsure what to do. “Go! Papa, go!”

  “I’ll come back for you!” he yelled. Tears streaked his face, pooling into his shaggy beard. “I swear it to Jerugia.”

  She wanted to lift her arms, to wave him on. If one of them made it to safety, wasn’t the trip worth it, then? But her body wouldn’t cooperate.

  “Go!” she yelled again. It was the best she could do. When she looked up, he was gone and the two trees had joined together again. Five men surrounded her limp body and feet. She could no longer quiet her breath or the pain sawing its way down her spine.

  A guardsman knelt down next to her and shifted her onto her back. A yelp escaped her, followed by hot tears. He aimed his shiny, black baton straight at her heart. His pale blue eyes glittered despite the shadows. “I’ll stop your pain right now. Are you going to be trouble when I do?”

  “No, sir,” she said, shaking her head. He couldn’t have been too much older than she was. He touched his hand to her shoulder and the pain wracking her body disappeared into nothingness.

  “Stick out your hands,” he said. Eryn did as she was told, stifling her urge to burst into another round of tears. He pulled a jute binding rope from his pocket and wound it around her wrists, touching it with the tip of his baton to tighten it.

  “My father’s gone,” she whispered. He had escaped. Without her.

  “Come on,” he said, ignoring her words. His fingers dug into her upper arm, forcing her to her feet. “The commander’s been looking for you.”

  “You could just let me go. Pretend you never found me,” she said, hating herself for begging. Her father wouldn’t have wheedled so shamelessly. She searched his mind looking for some thought of empathy but all she found was void. Nothingness. She’d encountered petty, small and even cruel minds before but never had there been just nothing. The only Kaels she knew that could not be read in some capacity were Water Kaels.

  “Keep moving,” he said eyes forward. She thought about running but she didn’t know if the Zoie would open for her as it had for her father and the fight went out of her before it even got started. What would Peter do with her? Why had he been looking for her? She hung her head and as they marched her out of the forest, the trees began to quiver, the sound of their leaves rustling a chorus of lament. Please, goddess, if I’m to die, let it be swift and painless, she prayed, afraid it would fall on deaf ears. In the last few weeks, it seemed as if the goddess had abandoned them all.

  Two

  When they arrived in the capital city of Eschela, the guardsman walked her
down the center of the streets and people stopped on the sidewalks, watching as she was marched towards the governor’s mansion. It almost made sense that Peter would have taken up residence in the house where his mother had spent so many years governing the realm. The marble and granite structure, with its beautiful, carved columns, reeked of power.

  The guardsman guided her up the steps towards the wide front doors. Eryn glimpsed a pale, blond, elf-like child in one of the windows. Could it be that Peter had brought Harbee Fein and their bastard daughter to live here? Perhaps it was a good thing his mother was dead after all. She would never have approved.

  When they got inside the great hall of the governor’s mansion, the guardsman dragged her up the steps and through a maze of hallways before finally arriving at a pair of heavy, carved doors. One of the guardsmen stepped forward and knocked three times. She glanced sideways at the guardsman who had caught her. His short, blond hair shimmered despite the dimness of the corridor. He was handsome, more handsome than any of the boys her age, and she’d never seen eyes quite that color blue before.

  He glanced at her and scowled, and her eyes darted to her feet, her cheeks burning at being caught staring. Still, something about him seemed odd. She closed her eyes for just a few seconds and envisioned herself as a tree with roots reaching through the floor, winding their pale, iridescent tendrils up his legs, torso and finally taking root in his head. She waited for the usual sense of connection but it never came. A dark blue cloud filled her vision. It was as if his entire head was empty.

  The guardsman in front pushed open the door and her attempted connection broke. The blond guardsman squeezed her upper arm, prodding her forward into the room.

  The thick scent of pine wafted through her senses as they entered the room, and immediately her body relaxed. A strange thought filled her head. This is what they do to cattle, isn’t it? Right before the slaughter? She had read about it in one of her father’s books, but she couldn’t remember which one. The slaughterhouses filled the holding room with the comforting scent of grass and alfalfa. It put the cattle at ease and made leading them to slaughter less difficult.