Chains of a Promise - Wolfheart (best ereader for academics .TXT) 📗

Prologue

The nightfall was a reprieve to a lone, single girl walking in the darkness of the wilderness. She limped toward a shallow stream and a single tree as the sun vanished behind the mountains far ahead of her. The heat had all but killed her, burning any of her fair, pale skin that had been exposed. The child, no older than seven, slumped down in the shade of the old tree, gasping for air. Leaning down, she cupped her hands and bathed in the water the tree’s roots drank from. Then she took small sips of it to cool her parched throat.
How will I mend these burns?

She thought weakly, her eyes watching the three moons. One was blue, and full. Another was red, and it was split in half. The third one was white, and remained present by only a sliver. The child's eyes didn't seem to be dirrectly looking at anything; they weren't focused.
Why did you have to leave me so alone, mother? Why did father not help us?

The grief in her silver-gray gaze would make a soulless brute bawl. She curled into a ball, protected by the roots, and fell to sleep.


For five nights, this was the child’s routine; bath, drink, sleep. She ate the rabbits and birds that came to the stream for water, as well as the fish from it. The child slept in the day and hunted at night. She dug a hole in the roots with sticks from the tree to hide from the wolves and otters, covering the entrance with their blood the moment they came to close.
One the sixth night, a different kind of presence surrounded her. Her sunburn was blisters. She had wounds and was sick off from the meat and fish she wasn’t cooking before she ate; she didn’t know how to make a fire. But she stood and stepped slowly away from the tree, hardly able to stand. The wound on her leg that made her limp was festering.
There was something not far from her…
There are…others like me…

She could feel it. But…it wasn’t time yet.
No…I will wait here. It isn’t time yet.

She fished that night, and drank from the water as if it were any other night. Gazing at the sky, she saw that there were only two moons. The red moon was waxing; it was nearly full. The blue moon was waning; it was about half. The white moon was new.
The child bowed her head and muttered a prayer.
“Moon of Andoreous, guide me…look upon me…I will give you my soul…if you save my life before your blood-red brother is full and your ocean-blue sister is new.”
As if in answer, the dark clouds of the sky shone white for a split second. In the trees, a bird cawed. The child jumped. Gazing at the branch, she gasped. The bird was almost as big as her, and as white as the moon itself. Its left eye was blue, its right eye red. The bird’s eyes met hers, and the child heard words in her thoughts.
I am the Messenger of Andoreous. Your prayer has been heard. If you can prove yourself by calling out your name and submitting to Him, I will take your plea to my lord and spare your life.

The child looked the bird in her eye. Terror shook her frail, weak body. But she lifted her chin and called at the top of her lungs; “I am Rift Sylva Desha, and I give my soul and life to serve my god, Andoreous! He will always be my lord and master! I am loyal to him and him alone!”
The bird cawed again, spread its wings and took flight.
Well done, Rift. When a woman, a boy and a man come to you tonight, say your first name and your first name alone. The woman will ask you ten questions four times. Answer only your name. Even if she threatens to kill you, give her your first name alone. Do not show fear or pain. Then you will be saved. You will know if you are saved if the woman tells you her name.

“I hear your will and shall obey.” She called after the bird.
He was gone from the sky of blue and red light, forever hidden from the young girl’s sight.

It was nearing dawn when the three shadows yanked Rift from her root-dug den. She cried out in shocked pain. The hands of a man and a boy sat her down roughly. Rift gazed with defiance at the three who treated her so obscenely. And she said nothing.
“What do we have here?” A woman asked. She was lean and tall, but lithe with the blue eyes of a Singer. Her hair was long and black as a night during the Night of No Moons “A child, burned by the sun and festering under a tree?”
“She looks filthy.” The boy responded. He looked to be twice her age – and therefore twice her training. “Let’s leave her.”
“Wait…those eyes…” She looked closer. Rift glimpsed the tattoos of Andoreous and knew. “Who are you, child?”
“Rift.” She said the word stubbornly, with bitterness.
“Rift who?”
She didn’t say anything.
Understanding filled her eyes.
“Leave us. I need to teach this child some respect. Find a site away from the tree, down the river to camp. Catch enough fish for four people, but only cook enough for three.” The woman – the Chosen – spoke to the other two. “Do this for four days. I will return on the fourth.”
“What?” The man demanded, sounding shocked.
“Did I stutter?” She demanded. “I will send a messenger every night. But I cannot answer any questions.”
“Yes, my lady.” He bowed and yanked the boy after him, heading up the river and away from them.
She pulled out medicine and set them in front of Rift.
“Use them to treat your wounds, child.”
The girl hesitated. She tried to scrape her memory for clues not to use what she was given, but found no warnings. Rift thoroughly checked the medicine, but saw nothing dangerous.
Then she must not be an enemy. She’s just here as a test.

Rift carefully used as little of the medicine as possible to treat her wounds.
“While you’re doing that, where are you from?”
Nice try.

She kept going, ignoring her. The woman looked a little frustrated.
“What is your name, child? Do you not know what respect is?”
That’s…two questions, or one?

But she couldn’t ask; she couldn’t speak anything but her first name.
“Rift.”
“Rift is your first name, yes; what of the rest of your name?” There was anger in the woman’s voice now; anger that Rift instantly identified as a false emotion.
You’re good at tests…if I weren’t blind, I'd think you were really angry.

She gave the medicine back and bowed, showing respect but not speaking it.
“Fine; sleep for now. I will guard this hovel of yours.”
Again, Rift hesitated. Then she slipped into the den with a sharp stick. The amused laugh from the woman made her feel small, but defense was important. And both of them needed sleep.

For four nights, the woman pressed ten questions into the child. All the while, she protected her in the day and cooked for her in the night. But she wouldn’t hunt for the child, and taught her nothing. She would go from being gentle and nice to even hitting her once or twice when she was disrespectful. When the woman nearly broke Rift’s jaw for spitting on her, the girl vowed never to do that again.
On the fourth night, the woman rose and looked the child in the eye. She nodded her head once.
“You have passed the test, child. I am Tiff Lyn Desha…and I was your mother’s sister.” She held out her hand. Rift grasped it. “I am Andoreous’s Chosen, and the Singer who will teach you the ways of the Necromancer.”

Chapter One

Omen was shocked to see the child who’d called herself Rift following Tiff. He was shocked and a bit jealous. She was scrawny, weak and blind. But the determination that swarmed her aura and the way the child limped with agony clear in her useless eyes showed why she followed Andoreous’s Chosen. There was no doubt that the child would be intelligent and powerful.
As long as she keeps up and splits chores with me when she’s healed, I’ll have no problem with her at all. Hmm…there’s something…different about her features…

“Chaos…” The boy called to his mentor. “Is that girl with Lady Tiff Singer or Caster?”
The man, tall and powerfully built with green eyes and red-brown hair, gazed at her for a time before quietly answering. “Perhaps she is both.”
The boy shrugged, and said no more as he checked on the salted fish.
“Keep up, Rift.”
The girl didn’t answer, but just hurried her tiny legs faster.
She won’t survive long with Tiff as a mentor…poor girl. I’ll give her a week.

“Prepare half of the fish you saved for these days.” Tiff ordered Omen and Chaos without looking at them.
Omen nodded and put half the fish back in his carrier, putting the other half on a block of split wood. Chaos added wood to the fire as Omen refilled the cooking bucket, making sure the wood was damp enough. He put the bucket on the fire as his mentor flayed the fish. All the while, the boy watched the girl.
Her gaze was dead, but he felt as if she were still watching him. She sat as Tiff addressed a terrible gash along her right knee; it looked like something sharp had pierced the bone slightly, and perpetually damaged the nerves. She would probably be in pain and limp for the rest of her life – however short that would be; now that Tiff was training her.
“Stop staring at me.” He heard a tone of fear in her voice.
“Never mind Omen.” Tiff answered her. “He’s just a Contractor boy. He’s here to learn how to obey and protect us.”
“Why should I obey a little girl?” He demanded angrily. “She ain’t my boss.”
Chaos hit the back of his head in warning. “She will be your Chosen one day.” He told him. “Andoreous has Tiff training her for a reason.”
“She’s seven years old!”
“The age doesn’t matter, Omen. Now put these in the bucket.”
He bowed, still furious, and plopped them in the bucket.
“Show her disrespect, boy, and I assure you it will not go over well.” Tiff warned him, her tone as even and cold as it was quiet. He could barely hear her.
I think it’s time to shut up now…

And Omen did. He sat on the other side of the fire and stopped staring at Rift, though it was hard. He was curious.
Why isn’t she doing anything?

He finally wondered. She was just sitting there, shivering with fever. Tiff watched her closely out of the corner of her eye. Omen noticed the look of affection and concern that he’d seen on her face only once; when she’d left her sister and the new-born baby alone.
Didn’t the Caster mate leave them on a mission and die?

That was strange…the kid looked similar to Tiff…
Wait…could that