Storm of Chaos and Shadows Read online

  STORM OF CHAOS AND SHADOWS

  C.L. BRIAR

  Storm of Chaos and Shadows

  Copyright © 2021 by C. L. Briar

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  First Edition published March 2022

  Map Design © 2021 by C.L. Briar

  Cover Design © 2021 Tairelei

  Edited by Second Pass Editing

  Identifiers:

  ISBN: 978-1-956829-00-6 (ebook)

  ISBN: 978-1-956829-02-0 (paperback)

  ISBN: 978-1-956829-01-3 (hardback)

  Content Warning:

  Violence, Language, Sexual Situations, Homophobia

  Created with Vellum

  To those of us who struggle with our own darkness: You are not alone.

  CONTENTS

  Book One

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  BOOK ONE

  Storm of Chaos and Shadows

  C.L. Briar

  CHAPTER 1

  The fluttering wings of roguish pixies whipped and whirled around me, celebrating their freedom on a brisk, winter breeze. They hovered over my head, iridescent wings and pale skin swirling between escaped strands of my chestnut curls. Mischievous grins met my glare as their agile forms darted into the branches above.

  Shielding my eyes, I shrieked as snow tumbled down. The sting of sleet pierced my neck, jerking my body upright as the icy chill slid down my spine. I leapt up, shaking off the frost-covered pine needles with a slew of curses on the tip of my tongue, but before I could give life to the words, the pixies were gone.

  Already off on their next adventure.

  How I envied those beautiful, wicked creatures. No larger than my smallest finger and yet granted with the power to choose their own destinies. While I was stuck trudging through mine.

  Sighing, I turned back to the task at hand.

  “How is this possible? No wonder we haven’t had any meat this week,” I grumbled while hunched over a tangled lump of rope, scolding myself for letting Will help. I knew better than to trust my younger brother with something as important as this.

  The chill of snow pressed through my worn, oversized boots as my numb fingers pulled and stretched the jumbled mess to no avail. Without the snares set properly, we would be dependent on the limited amount of vegetation peeking through the melting snowbanks, which wasn’t nearly enough.

  My sisters had gone foraging the day before last but had found only a measly handful of winter roots. We had agreed to save the remaining bits of dried hare for young Will, but if I didn’t manage to bring something back tonight, we’d have to split what was left between the four of us. Even then, it would only last another night or two.

  My stomach twisted as I considered the alternative. I could venture north, just outside of the human village where I knew other hungry families had snares set. It wasn’t ideal, stealing food from others who were in situations just as precarious as mine, but if I had to sacrifice another sliver of my soul to ensure my family survived, I would.

  I’d done it before.

  I hated these woods. Hated the time I was forced to spend trekking through them. It hadn’t always been that way. There had been a time when I’d begged to join my older brothers and father in the forest—a time when I had yearned for the adventure that came from stalking through the thick trees, reveling in the scent of pine, knowing I was safe within the Borderlands.

  But that was before. Back when we had enough strength to defend our borders and offer respite to other humans fleeing the innate brutality of the fae. Before humans had started dying.

  We were left with only a fraction of the force we once had. Our government was in ruins. There simply were not enough humans left to sustain it. What remained of the military force had pulled together, attempting to keep the scraps of our civilization alive, but their power was limited. Especially with the human death toll continuing to climb.

  The world changed the day that terrible storm had ravaged our world, claiming nearly half of all human lives. Attacks against human villages started soon after and had been growing ever since. Entire towns—destroyed.

  Most thought a rogue group of rebels from the vicious Dark Kingdom were responsible, intent on ridding this world of us—humans—once and for all. Others thought it was the coming of days, foretold by the ancient prophecies that had somehow been lost over time, only circulating in bits and pieces of sacred text.

  But me? I didn’t care what had brought about this fate, prophecies or otherwise. The outcome was still the same. My parents, my older brothers… they were dead. And that dreadful reality would never change.

  My fingers pulled and twisted, but the tangled heap of rope didn’t loosen. I’d had enough of hunting, enough of the constant hunger gnawing my belly, enough of the guilt that raked me at not being able to give my family a better life.

  The days of carefree happiness were at an end. This forest had become a prison, one that was capricious with her blessings, begrudgingly offering the minimum amount of nourishment to keep my family from starving.

  A few choice words issued from my mouth as I launched the useless ball through the forest. I’d have to make do with the other snares, poaching or otherwise, or risk delving further into the treacherous lands of the west. My stomach twisted at the thought of going into the Wild Kingdom. At least if I ran into one of the beasts, it would serve as a good distraction.

  The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as a huffed surprise pierced the surrounding silence. My head shot up, eyes combing through the trees for the source, but I kept my kneeling position, not wanting to give away more than I already had.

  A hulking figure emerged from the still lingering morning shadows, untangling itself from the mess of rope I’d tossed. Closely kept sandy blond hair reflected the rays of the late winter sun, as did the white of his winter-issued military uniform.

  My stomach lurched at the sight. Men from the base didn’t
normally stray this far south. Most were said to be honorable, but I was well aware that even the most adored beings had a dark side. I had no intention of being at another’s mercy.

  My hand reached for my dagger on reflex, only to find the sheath along my boot empty. A curse flew from my lips. I knew better than to be unarmed in these woods. Yet another careless oversight on my part, but it was hard to think straight when you hadn’t had a proper meal in weeks.

  Get it together, Elara.

  I stood and took a cautious step backwards, toward the large pine tree where my blade sat tucked within my pack. It was nestled among the gnarled roots, just beside my bow and quiver.

  The crunching of dried leaves and twigs grew louder, snapping my attention back to the looming figure. No weapons were visible upon quick examination, but I was smart enough to know there were probably a few tucked beneath his clothes.

  His lofty frame shifted as he worked through the maze of branches. A broad chest gave way to thick, muscular arms, one holding the twisted rope, and the other supporting the swaying weight of two juicy hares dangling from his left shoulder.

  Just one of those animals would keep my family fed for the next week. My mouth watered at the thought of fresh meat and the feeling of a full belly. I wouldn't have to steal from other families, not today, at least. There was only one obstacle blocking that future from being fulfilled, and he was walking right toward me.

  My fingers twitched, eager for the familiar weight of a blade in my hand, but if he were truly from the base, he would be difficult to defeat. Only the best fighters were accepted within their walls. What he didn’t know was that I had spent countless hours hovering on the outskirts of the military base, probably the very one he resided in. I knew it was an unattainable dream, the last of my childhood hopes, but I couldn’t find it within myself to relinquish the desire to one day join them.

  He stepped through the last of the trees, pausing in a patch of soft sunlight. Astonishment flashed across emerald eyes as he took in my appearance, eyes sweeping the length of me.

  I kept my chin dipped, grateful for the encompassing hood hiding me from his curious gaze, though I couldn’t hide the tips of my hair from tumbling past its cover. His lips slanted up, easing his strong jaw line dotted with the hint of what promised to be a full beard. His once-sleek nose had a small kink, probably from a previous break, but rather than stripping an ounce from his beauty, the irregularity added to it. How annoying.

  “Hello,” his deep voice soothed. “I must confess, I am surprised to find anyone out in the forest, let alone a young girl. Was that you I overheard?”

  It took all the self-control I had not to scoff. I was twenty, the eldest of my family and hardly a ‘young girl’. But if I were going to have a chance at those hares, I needed to use every advantage I could.

  Content to let him think I was an abandoned child, I chose not to answer, and instead crept further toward my pack.

  His lips quirked as he took a hesitant step in my direction. “Such strong language for someone so young. Can I be of assistance with something?”

  Strong language, indeed. As if he hadn’t heard worse living at the base. I chanced another step back. His eyes tracked the movement, drifting along the oversized coat dwarfing me with its bulk.

  “It’s okay. I mean you no harm, little one,” he soothed, his voice dropping as if to calm a skittish doe. “Is your father nearby? Or perhaps an older brother?” My gut twisted with the unintended blow as the memories of their ghosts surfaced. There was no one else in these haunted woods but me. And the unsuspecting man before me.

  My ravenous eyes tracked the hares as they swung forward with the soldier’s approach. They were thick; large despite the ruthless frost still lingering. I hadn’t yet needed to kill for our survival, but a cold, rational part of my mind knew it was only a matter of time. My foot crunched across bare, brittle branches littering the frost-covered floor as I cautioned another step away. A few more and I’d be in reach of my pack and the blade within.

  His green eyes narrowed at the movement, darting from the gnarled mess of rope and my retreat. A calculated look crossed his features as he inspected my clothing once more, as if trying to decipher a clever puzzle without having all the pieces.

  My spine straightened under his gaze, knowing what those intrusive eyes of his would find and refusing to be ashamed by it. The coat, which had only been waist length on Papa, dropped to my knees. It was worn, with fraying material along the hem, but it was the warmest item of clothing I had. Likewise, the leather boots had once belonged to my older brother, Jem. The toes were scoffed with small holes that let in flakes of melted snow, but the balled-up bits of material I used to stuff the tips blocked most of the cold and helped to keep my balance.

  “Is there no one with you?” he questioned in a soft, worried tone.

  A quick shake of my head was my only answer.

  His shoulders dipped, as if my response imparted an added weight to his already heavy shoulders. Voiced laced with pity, he spoke, “Do you need help learning how to set a snare, little one?”

  “I don’t need your assistance. I’m quite capable of handling things on my own,” I snapped, irritation overwhelming my better judgement. I hated pity. It was a worthless emotion, used only to differentiate the strong from the weak. And I refused to be weak.

  I wasn’t helpless. And I wasn’t little. I was a perfectly reasonable height. In fact, most would consider me tall, at least by human standards, though I suppose nearly everyone would seem insignificant to a person of his stature. My eyes flickered over his ears, half expecting him to be fae based on his size alone. Rounded tips. So, he was human.

  With a condescending tilt of his head and a twitch of his lips, he resumed his approach. “Come now, is that any way to speak to your rescuer? I may even share one of these juicy hares with you, if you ask nicely.”

  To my utter humiliation, my stomach chose that moment to issue a raucous grumble. Maybe there was a chance he hadn’t heard it.

  A capricious laugh rumbled from him. “It seems like your stomach is in agreement with me.”

  Hating the amused glint lingering in his eyes, I groaned as I risked a glance over my shoulder. The tree was further away than I had anticipated, and he was approaching quicker now, at ease with the knowledge that I was alone.

  I wouldn't make it to my blade before he was upon me. Shifting my stance, I staggered my feet, readying to defend myself. I’d heard horrific stories before of young women bewitched by handsome strangers only to be deceived, but I refused to buy into the noble rescuer ploy.

  The agonizing truth was there were very few decent people left in this world. Not after the storm that rocked Pax to its very foundations. I’d been the naïve girl once, and my family had suffered for it. I refused to fail them again.

  This last year had been harder than the rest. The creatures of the forest were growing bolder, flushed out from the dark corners of the world by the mounting attacks. Though humans appeared to be the primary target, all of Pax was suffering. It was as if the earth herself were unsettled, as if she were trying to warn us of something worse looming nearer.

  Not that any of that bothered the approaching man. Handsome, confident, and if the thickness of his legs and the strength displayed across his forearms were any indication, he hadn’t been forced to skip meals. He looked happy.

  The thought spurred my anger, igniting it into a deep-seated rage. He looked light, content with his life, while my family struggled to make it through each night.

  “Don’t be upset. I can help. I know it may seem like a complex task for someone such as yourself, but snares are actually quite simple.”

  Quirking a brow at his arrogance, I watched as his powerful legs propelled him forward. The insignia of the guard flashed in the corner of his bulky, white coat. His boots were smudged with mud, but his outfit was otherwise in pristine condition.

  I wondered if this was the man the others had spoken of at
the trading market some months ago.

  I’d retired to the local bar, sipping on a pint of honey-flavored ale when a rowdy cluster of swaying men chatted about a military influx. They had praised a renowned fighter, a general, who was to join their ranks, sure to strengthen the human resistance and fortify our grossly under prepared defenses against the increasing fae attacks. They spoke of him as if he were a legend. As if the gods themselves had delivered him to us.

  My eyes drifted over the man before me, noting the self-assured strides and the cocky tilt of his lips, the very man who still thought me an ill prepared, silly girl lost in the woods. If this was the savior of humanity, we were surely doomed.

  “I’ve taught many. I’m sure instructing you will be no different. Though, really,” he reprimanded. “You’ll never be successful if you can’t keep your rope organized. The snares should be checked every few days and adjusted as needed.”

  Heat flooded my cheeks as I fought to keep a response from flying off my tongue. Did he really think I was responsible for that tangled mess? That I didn’t know how to set a simple snare? Gods, every surviving being, human and fae alike, knew how to set one. You learned or you died. And here was this arrogant prick acting like I had less knowledge than my eight-year-old brother.