Awakening Dusk Chapter 1

Chapter 1

A Wade in the Valley

The axe arced through the air, making the final cut. With a groan, the tree collapsed to the ground. Raden cleared broken twigs and shrubbery from around the trunk. In rapid succession, he lopped off branches and began sorting them into piles. He worked his way down the tree as the sun rose higher. The natural quiet of Sunset Forest amplified his disruption, and the wild inhabitants skirted around the harsh echoes even as tranquility filled Raden’s mind.

There was beauty and irony in destroying one thing to build another. In the hours Raden had spent felling, hauling, and crafting alongside his grandfather, this principle had been instilled in him as deeply as the rings of the wood. It was the core of carpentry.

His family was known for their skill in utilizing the life of the forest for the betterment of Enicia. It was why King Monaro allowed them to live in Fang’s Edge, the closest vassal settlement to Valeria Palace and the capital. Fang’s Edge was entirely made up of master craftsmen. It was a gift to live and work there. A gift Raden opened daily by the swing of his axe.

A methodical rhythm fell over Raden as he worked. The process was as familiar as extending his own arm. He applied only as much force as necessary, ensuring the accuracy of his aim and conservation of his energy. Even after years of repetition, he wouldn’t allow himself to grow careless. He knew the cost too well. Aiming around a knot in the wood, he had lifted his axe when Nestoo growled a warning.

The small rodent had abandoned his makeshift nest and stood on his hind legs a mere pace away. His nose tipped toward the southeastern breeze. He darted about and whined. Raden sheathed his axe and grabbed the staff he’d left propped on a nearby tree. He patted his pocket. Nestoo, brown tail twitching, scurried around a pile of branches toward him. A panicked deer bounded over the felled tree, ignoring their presence. Nestoo climbed up Raden’s leg and dove into his shirt pocket. Raden grimaced as the rodent’s needlelike claws punctured skin.

He could smell it now. The cool southeastern breeze had grown warm and dry. An acrid taste clung to his tongue.

Smoke!

The old trees of Sunset Forest afforded little view, but Raden knew of a clearing nearby. He sprinted west, toward the mountains, and used his staff to propel himself up the sloping hill. A pair of rabbits burst out of a thicket. Raden stumbled, his frayed soles slipping on a moss-covered rock. Nestoo pushed his face into the corner seam of Raden’s pocket. His claws pricked as he grew frantic with every jolt.

Raden crested the hill. His stomach dropped. Plumes of smoke billowed out from the mountains. Orange flames leaped beneath a gray shroud and rapidly devoured the hillside.

A valley lay between the fire and Sunset Forest. Because of the late-summer drought, the creeks webbing across it were nothing more than withered veins. With the changing of the season, the fire would spread easily, kindled by the first drop of leaves coating the forest floor. Raden’s chest tightened. He thought of his grandparents and the other townsfolk. He had to warn Fang’s Edge.

Turning back to retrieve his timber, Raden jumped at the sound of falling rocks. He spun to see a wiry old woman running toward him. Her tattered cloak spilled out and twisted in a bramble. She tugged it free. Raden’s eyes drifted to the dried mud caking her legs.

Where did she come from?

Strands of gray hair flew out of her tangled braid, blowing across her face and sticking to the sweat and soot on her skin.

Raden half ran, half slid down the embankment to meet her. She stumbled and seized his arms, her grip uncommonly strong in one so old. Dried blood contrasted with her pale fingers, staining the leather bracers strapped to her forearms even darker. On her left shoulder, an owl stitched in silver thread soared over a battlefield. Raden assessed her quickly but couldn’t find an injury that would cause so much blood. Her gray eyes skimmed over him, taking in his red hair, freckles, and lean frame. He glanced up at her hair and gasped.

She isn’t human.

Tapered ears flicked in his direction.

“Your name?” She coughed. “Tell me your name.” Flecks of ash peeked out of her fraying braid like the rocks of Mosari River. A minor cut lined her wrinkled cheekbone. He’d never seen an elf so lowly.

“Raden.” He swallowed. “Raden Wade.”

“Wade.” The word lingered on her tongue. She closed her eyes and began mumbling to herself, as if reading an invisible script. “A good name, a carpenter’s name, belonging to Fang’s Edge—it can’t be! A Wade in the valley.” She stopped and stared at him. “The birds. They killed them!”

“Birds? What birds?”

Her gray eyes widened. “The birds, you fool! Owl’s wisdom, they took Corrinne also.” She shook, her grip loosening.

“Corrinne? Your daughter?”

“My sister. I have no daughters—save the birds. They’re like daughters to me. Now all dead!” she cried as his bewilderment grew.

“Who are you?”

“I am Mistress Natalia of Owl’s Wing.”

Raden frowned. He didn’t know of anywhere by that name, and he’d traveled over much of East Enicia, trading his family’s wares. It didn’t surprise him. While elves enjoyed the freedom of citizenship, humans worked and died as tradesmen, their hands ever crafting and their hearts ever bleeding. She could be speaking of anywhere or nowhere, for all he knew. He didn’t have time for elven riddles. He had to warn Fang’s Edge of the approaching wildfire.

“Let me fetch my donkey. Once I’ve hauled my timber to safety, we can—”

“You must take me to my sisters!”

“I thought you said she was taken. Wait, you have more than one?” He wanted to help her, but the more she spoke, the less she made sense.

Elven families were small. With life spans lasting two hundred years, they weren’t pressed to sire heirs. Maybe the smoke had confused her. Maybe she didn’t have a sister. Raden couldn’t imagine anyone “taking” an elf, especially if Corrinne was as old as the crone in front of him.

“Where is Owl’s Wing?”

“Don’t you see? I cannot return there.” Her nails dug into his arms. “You’re only a Wade. Why should I expect you to understand? But I need assistance. You appear physically able. Young, but all men are. Yes, you’ll do splendidly.”

Raden shook his head. “I’m a carpenter. I haul timber, not people.”

“A dim-witted one at that! Your sticks”—she gestured vaguely—“are of little consequence. Soon to burn to ash.”

“Sticks? I fell grown trees, elf.” He winced at his words.

“That no longer matters. Don’t you see? They killed the birds.”

“I don’t have time for this.” He brushed a frustrated hand through his ruddy hair. “My family’s in danger.” And I’m arguing with a mad elf.

“Lack of time is the point!” Mistress Natalia persisted. “We must get to my other sisters before they are killed.” Her eyes sagged, the wrinkles wreathing them growing more pronounced. “Poor Corrinne. If only her training had been complete.” She pinned Raden with a glare and all but shouted, “I thought even humans had ears! Use yours, even if they are so little.” Tears pooled in her eyes, smudging her ashy cheeks like uneven wood stain. “Please, take me to my sisters! Or all will be as the birds.”

Nestoo’s beady eyes peeked out of Raden’s shirt pocket. The elf’s breath sputtered as the rodent leaped onto her shoulder. Pink nose twitching, Nestoo sniffed Mistress Natalia’s hair, ignoring the silver earrings dangling over his head. Raden was dumbfounded. His mouth fell open as Nestoo licked the cut on her weathered cheek.

“Oh.” Mistress Natalia’s wrinkled face transformed into a smile. “Hello, handsome. What a delightful marlenk! Why in heaven’s name has he chosen you for a companion? A carpenter. A feller of trees!” She laughed.

Nestoo puffed out his fur in a proud display.

“A what? We just call them finder rodents.”

Mistress Natalia tilted her head. “Ah, yes, the human name for them.” She brushed a crooked finger between Nestoo’s tufted ears.

“He doesn’t like people.” Raden eyed her earrings before turning his attention to the darkening sky. The air felt heavy, the burgeoning smoke extinguishing its vitality.

He grabbed Mistress Natalia’s hand. “Come with me.” He dug his staff into the leaf-covered hill. “I need to reach my family before the fire gets to our town. My cart is close by. I’ll give you a ride.”

She jerked away, nearly tripping on a tree root. “The birds are dead! Young Wade, why can’t you see your sticks don’t matter?”

Nestoo flinched. The finder rodent spread his webbed limbs and glided onto Raden’s staff. His claws left fresh nicks in the oak as he scurried to the top.

Raden’s green eyes hardened. “My family does matter. I can’t help you if you won’t let me. We have to go.”

Mistress Natalia fell to her knees as Raden turned back to the incline. He hesitated.

He couldn’t leave her on the ground. He wouldn’t abandon her to the fire. Reaching down to lift her to her feet, he noticed her ratty clothing had shifted, revealing a strange tattoo on her shoulder.

A dark oak stood in a valley between two hills. Strong leafy branches stretched over the valley to the hills on either side. Below the curve of the land, tree roots fanned out widely. In the heart of the roots, two diamonds overlapped to form a vertical wooden chain. The tattoo spanned across her entire shoulder, with swirls of ink encasing the image. Raden froze as if the hot air were laden with snow.

He knew that symbol. He remembered the wintry night his grandfather had hung a leather cord about his neck, an intricately carved wooden pendant falling against his chest, heavy with the warning that bearing the Wade crest took strength. The strength of an oak rising above two hills. Unease twisted Raden’s memory. Why is our family crest tattooed on an Enician elf?

He pulled Mistress Natalia to her feet. “Are . . . are your sisters nearby?”

“I cannot say.”

Smoke billowed out over the valley. Flames danced on the last hill in a sultry haze.

Raden scowled. “I’ll bring you to my town, and we’ll figure it out there. C’mon.”

Mistress Natalia nodded slowly. “Very well. But we can’t stay long, or blood will fall.”

Raden propelled her uphill in the direction of his timber.

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