Secrets of the Stonechaser (The Law of Eight Book 1) (39 page)
Read Secrets of the Stonechaser (The Law of Eight Book 1) Online
Authors: Nicholas Andrews
The next morning, Nerris found himself skipping across stones, following Len-Ahl toward this mysterious lake. As they approached the shoreline, mist seemed to form out of nowhere, encircling them as if cutting off the outside world. He felt this place was either very old or housed something beyond ancient.
Len-Ahl stopped at the shore, where the waves lapped against her feet. “This is the place,” she said.
Nerris stared out across the water. All was still. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” she said. “Can you feel it, Nerris? This place is strongly attached to the Faery Realm. There is great power here.” She absentmindedly stroked the flute in her hands.
“Go ahead,” Nerris said. “I may not feel the power, but I will protect you from whatever comes out of that water.”
Len-Ahl nodded, and raised the fipple flute to her lips. She was improvising, he knew, yet the song which emerged was haunting and mournful, like a dirge. The notes seemed to come unbidden, and she did not stumble or hesitate as she played the song to its conclusion.
As she took the flute from her lips, nothing happened. But then the wind picked up and the water in front of them parted. A white form emerged, emanating a light which made it difficult to discern features. It hovered above the water, moving toward them.
It glided closer, and Nerris was able to get a better look. It was a woman, beautiful in the way Qabala was. Instead of a dress, she wore trousers and a leather vest which accentuated her feminine curves. Her long, brown hair flowed out from her head. Strands bobbed at random, as if she still floated beneath the water.
When she locked eyes with him, Nerris felt a sense of awe, but also danger. His hand instinctively went to Noruken’s hilt, but the entity merely gave him an amused smile.
“Stay thy fears, Catalyst,” she said. “I have not summoned thee to cause harm.” Her voice came in an echo, as if from somewhere far away.
“That is a very formal dialect, my lady,” Nerris said. “I am Nerris Palada and this is Len-Ahl. I do not believe I have had the pleasure.”
“I know thy names,” the spirit said. “They have resounded throughout the world for some time now. I shall introduce myself, though I fear thou wilt not place trust in my words forthwith. Once, I was a goddess. Over the centuries I have been named the Consumer, Lady Death, and the Bitch of Blood, but I have one name thou wilt recognize.” She fixed them with a sad stare. “My name is Yala.”
About the Author
Nicholas Andrews has been writing stories of various length and dubious quality for over twenty years. He attended both Ohio University and Wright State University, but was forced to drop out due to deteriorating sanity. He has worked in restaurants, grocery stores, an airfield (for four whole days) and as a video producer for independent pro wrestling companies. When not writing about himself in the third person, he enjoys reading, composing music, riffing bad movies, and playing retro video games.
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