Uprising

By Melody Hewson

Uprising, book one of The Wolfcaller Chronicles, follows the journey of a young tarin doe who must learn to survive in a hostile world where danger is everywhere and monsters lie waiting in the shadows. Nadirah, however, carries a dark secret from her past. A secret that keeps her separated from those around her. A secret that makes her a target of evil forces, determined to enslave the entire world in the icy grip of undeath. Time and again the solitary warrior is offered the help she is too proud to ask for, but can she change her very nature to accept it? And will it be enough?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Melody Hewson
• Release date: Jan 12, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311731760

Melody Hewson

I am an author, a teller of stories both long and short, real & imagined. So for the sake of my own amusement, here’s a bit of information about me, written in the form of a short story. Whatever information you can gleam from these words is what you are worthy of knowing about it's creator.Hazel eyes stared up at a cloudless sky before falling to take in the house below it. To some, it would be judged by its flaws ; it's fading paint and scuffed floors. But to her it was perfect. It was hers. And it was home. To one side, a wild forest whispered sweet nothings in the breeze, which was answered by some distant bird's call. "Life is good." She said softly to no one. "And today is a good day."The sudden squawking of wild fowl pulled her attention to the shaggy black and white dog that rarely strayed far from her side."God damn it, Jackalope! Quit chasing those turkeys!""I looked heavenward for angels, while beautiful demons showed me the way." - Shannon Nacyl

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Uprising

The Wolfcaller Chronicles vol. One

Written by: Melody Hewson

Smashwords Edition

Copyright Melody Hewson 2014

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Acknowledgments

I have so many people to thank for their help with this book. It's been a long time in coming and now Nadirah's story is finally a reality.

I think the biggest thank yous go to Dylan Robin Robinson and Soul Soulie Solfelis, who put up with my constant chattering on about the story and gave me endless amounts of encouragement to keep writing it.

My beta readers were also awesome and I greatly appreciate their generous donations of time to read over the book and give me valuable feedback. So thank you very much Robin, Sonia, and all the others who gave me their valuable feedback.

The beautiful illustrations were done by Amorrah Wolfmoon, who never ceased to impress me, and the amazing cover art was done by Elba Gutierrez-Preciado, whose beautiful work also continues to amaze me.

I also want to thank everyone else who lent me their encouragement during the writing process. You were all invaluable.

And of course, last but not least, I want to thank dad, for his unwavering support of my writing career. Even though he occasionally tries to convince me otherwise.

Due to some issues with my previous editor, this is a re-release of the original book, intended to fix the mistakes pointed out by various readers over the years. Very little of the original text has been changed outside of these corrections.

Uprising

The Wolfcaller Chronicles

vol. one

Hello there friend! Come in, come in! Have a seat, have a drink, have fun and relax! Would you like something to drink? A bite to eat perhaps? The stew is quite excellent tonight. Don't worry about paying, you're my guest and I treat my guests like royalty! Still no? Very well, but please let me know if you change your mind.

Now I will say, friend, you do look quite familiar, you do. I tell you, names may escape me but I never forget a face. And yours certainly does tickle my memory. What's that? Say we've never met, do you? Are you sure? Ah, well then I'm glad to meet you now! You know what they say, a stranger is only a friend you haven't met yet. So it's wonderful to meet you!

I am called Teller. Fetch us a story, Teller! they always say to me. Yes, I know all the stories, from the beginning of the world to the squirrel and his magical pebble. That one's pretty popular with the kids, you know. But you don't look like you've come all the way here to hear about a squirrel.

You have a story in mind do you? Ah, the tale of Nadirah Wolfcaller. Yes. Yes, I know her tale very well indeed. Everyone 'round here knows of her. Not from 'round here, eh? Well, no matter. She hasn't been seen in a while, but the ones like that, they never really go away for good, no, never for good. They just sleep a little while until they're called again by the darkness in us all. But let us not speak her name too loudly. You know what they say about that. Call and I shall answer.

In a hurry, you say? Well let me speak, friend, and I'll tell you all you want to hear! It's a long tale, so get yourself comfortable. Now then,...

Now, no one, not even me, knows where she came from, or why she came to that old village that she first appeared at. Some say she was formed from the darkness itself and given a familiar shape. Me, I think she was just as mortal as you an' me, and created in just the same fashion, if you know what I mean. But, I also think that maybe, whatever drove her to that village that day... just maybe it's better that story stays lost. Some stories are better left to their own, not fit for the ears of decent folk.

But it all began innocently enough, with a single request.....

Chapter 1

The clash of sword to shield was music to the old bull's ears. For the briefest of moments, he entertained the thought of smiling, but his mood was dashed by the hollow thunk of wood striking bone. STOP! he called with his booming voice, striding forward into the practice ring. Every eye turned to focus on him as he entered the dirt ring. With a loud, dramatic sigh, he came to a stop before the pair of training fighters. You weren't holding your shield like I showed you, were you. His words were not a question but an accusation of guilt.

N-no, sir. One of the combatants mumbled with a bow of his head, injured hand cradled protectively to his chest. I'm sorry.

The old warrior gave a snort of disdain and plucked the wooden practice shield from his student's grasp. They were all young, barely entering adulthood, just like he was when he had first begun his training. And just like him when he was their age, they still felt themselves to be invulnerable. Now I'm going to show you this one more time. Pay close attention. He said, slipping the shield onto his arm and tightening the straps. Now then, once you have it good and snug, make sure your-

Excuse me. The old warrior froze in place as the soft voice drifted to his ear, interrupting his lecture. Never, in all of his years as trainer, had anyone ever interrupted him except to warn of a coming attack. Excuse me. The soft voice came again. Are you Rakthon Stoneheart? The warrior trainer?

Rakthon gave another irritated snort and turned around, fully intending to give a severe tongue-lashing to the interloper that would disrupt the training of the tribe's future protectors, but something made him catch his tongue just before he spoke. Yes. I am he. He said instead. What do you want, doe? Are you a messenger? If so your message had better be damned important.

Several feet away stood an adolescent tarin doe, no older than his students. Tattered and worn, her scant leather coverings spoke of hardship. The large claw of some predatory animal hung from a leather thong around her neck. Her amber colored eyes were bloodshot and unfocused, turned vaguely in his direction, although they seemed incapable of holding still as her gaze shifted constantly. Rakthon prided himself on knowing the name of every tarin for miles around, but he had never laid eyes on anyone that resembled the blood-bay doe addressing him.

No sir, I am not. She replied. Her voice was soft, but demanding, and reached the bull's ears clearly despite the distance between them. The strong and bitter stench of alcohol stung his sensitive nose as she spoke. I have no message, simply a request.

A request? Rakthon repeated, reaching up to scratch thoughtfully at the base of one of his large horns. Well, speak up then. What do you want from me?

I want to join your group for training. The strange doe said simply.

Several giggles erupted from the watching group behind the old warrior, but they were silenced with an angry glance. Why do you want to do that? He asked as he turned back to her.

I want to become a warrior. She replied softly, the words almost a demand.

Rakthon walked closer to the strange doe, trying to understand the feeling of wrongness that emanated from her. It made him nervous to even have her so close to his students unchallenged, although she had not made a single threatening gesture. He studied her further as he walked a slow circle around her. Her fur was covered in a fine layer of red dust and her short horns had been sharpened to unnatural points. Her black mane was tied back in a single tight braid. Her head did not move to follow him, yet he sensed that she was aware of his location at all times. There was a jumpy tenseness to her limbs that also made him uncomfortable with her presence. She reminded him of a rabid animal; wild, unpredictable, ready to bite unprovoked at a moment's notice.

No. He finally answered as he came around to face her again, his countenance as cold as his rejection. He then turned and began walking back toward the training ring where his pupils stood watching the exchange in rapt fascination. While he hated to turn his back on the stranger, he instinctively knew it would mean trouble to show any sign of the nervousness she was causing him.

No? She repeated in disbelief, a note of challenge entering her voice. I don't find that to be an acceptable answer.

Well that's too bad, Rakthon said over his shoulder, dismissing her with a wave of his hand. Because I refuse. Go talk to the druids, you might have better luck with them. They seem to like having their thoughts muddled by other substances.

I don't care about the druids. The strange doe replied, her voice becoming lower as her anger rose. Rakthon could feel the coiling tenseness in her, like a predator preparing to spring. I came to you because I want to be a warrior, and you will train me.

The older bull screwed his face into an expression of rage, fighting to hide his growing nervousness. He was unconcerned for himself, he could defend himself well enough, but if the strange doe went wild, she might hurt some of his inexperienced students; young warriors of the tribes, entrusted into his care. It would be better to send her away or lure her to a place where she could be dealt with safely. Coming to a decision, Rakthon threw the wooden shield to the ground and spun to face her, taken aback for a moment when he found her much closer than he had anticipated. He wondered briefly about how she had managed to walk up behind him so quietly before thrusting the thought out of his mind.

Hiding his surprise, Rakthon gave a disdainful snort and jabbed a thick finger into the doe's chest as he spoke, not allowing himself to be disturbed by her unfocused gaze. "I don't particularly care what you want, doe! You're a mess and a drunk! I could smell you a mile away! You can't even see straight can you?! You're not fit to so much as clean up after the horses and you want to be trained as a warrior? A position of responsibility, honor and a duty to protect those weaker than yourself? Ha! Get out of my sight before I lose my patience!" With his dismissal given, Rakthon raised his hand and slapped the younger tarin hard across her face. He expected her to collapse to the ground before crawling shamefully away.

But she did not fall. The doe's head snapped to the side as she was struck, and she stumbled back a step before she was able to regain her balance. She stayed that way for a moment before her head slowly turned back to face the old warrior, her eyes blazing with anger and deadly intent, focused directly on his face. Well... If that's the way you feel... She spoke softly, although her voice was sharply edged with barely restrained rage. Then I shall have to Change Your MIND!!

Faster than Rakthon could have expected, the doe's hands shot up and grabbed his large horns, pulling his head forward until it crashed into her own with a loud thunk and sending a blinding flash of white pain through the older bull's head. With a sharp twist of her arms, she threw him roughly to the ground while he was disoriented. Rakthon's breath left him with a hard cough as he landed on his back. He managed to roll away mere moments before her large cloven hooves crashed down in the spot where his head had been.

Rising to his feet to face his much younger opponent, Rakthon drew upon his many long years of training and experience. He had faced plenty of young upstarts that thought they had the advantage on the older warrior by merit of their age and strength alone, and while the doe staring at him obviously had some experience, she was still sloppy, uncoordinated and didn't seem to know the proper stance she should be in to keep her balance.

When she finally charged him, he dodged her and easily deflected her initial blows, waiting before returning any attacks while he gauged her skill. She was powerful, and while her attacks were vicious, they were mostly uncoordinated and wild; her movements inefficient and wasteful. Rakthon reasoned that if he could engage her long enough, dodging and blocking, her youthful energy would quickly expire and he would again have the upper hand.

The doe seemed to have other plans, however. An unexpected kick to his knee while he was already ducking her swinging arm, nearly sent the old warrior tumbling. He swung out, hoping to knock her back a bit and give himself time to recover, but his arm met with only air as she ducked and kicked out again, her hoof striking the center of his chest and sending him stumbling backwards and barely able to get his balance again.

Infuriated that her target had not fallen, the young fighter barely gave Rakthan time to prepare himself before she suddenly shifted her direction and rammed her head into his abdomen. He felt the jab of her sharpened horns as she twisted her head and was thankful for the thick leather jerkin that protected him from being gored as they tumbled to the ground together. Clasping his hands together in one large mallet-like fist, he slammed it down with all his weight on the back of the doe's unprotected neck.

The doe gave a loud bellow and rolled off of him, her hands moving to her injured neck. As she lay rocking back and forth, yelling in agony, Rakthon scrambled to his feet and deliver a sharp kick to her side. This caused her to curl protectively inward, surrounding his leg with her body. He tried to step back, but she clung tightly and refused to let go. Without warning, her arm jutted upward, her fist slamming hard into the back of his other knee. A second blow struck just below the hock.

Rakthon roared in surprise, rage and pain as he lost his balance and once again crashed to the ground. He tried to kick free, but blow after painful blow was delivered to his flailing legs. In desperation, he looked around and spotted the wooden practice shield close by. Grabbing it firmly, he swung it at the female's head, causing it to connect solidly with her right temple.

The old battered wood shattered upon impact, sending a rain of splinters and fragments in all directions. The doe gave a small cry as she was struck, then collapsed limply across the old warrior's legs. Rakthon shoved her off and rose to his feet, favoring one leg as he watched the doe closely, but she didn't stir. Ready to defend himself against another surprise attack, the old warrior cautiously reached out, jabbing her hard with stiff fingers. When she still failed to respond, he turned to his gathered audience, which included not only his students but several curious members of the village. Clean this mess up! He yelled to no one in particular. And see to the doe. If she's alive, get her to the healer's tent. If she's dead, you know what to do with the corpse. I want to talk to her if she ever wakes up again.

His final orders given, Rakthon turned away and hobbled back toward the village, muttering softly to himself.

Despite being left in the care of the most skillful healer in the village, it was three days before the injured doe opened her eyes again. Ugh, this is worse than my first hangover. She muttered darkly as she came awake. Blinking several times, she began to look around at her surroundings, finding herself lying on a padded cot inside a darkened tent, the scent of drying herbs hanging heavily in the air. Her clothes had been removed, and there were bandages on various parts of her body.

The doe tried to sit up, but was immediately overcome with an overpowering wave of dizziness. Oh! Oh good! You're awake! A strange voice spoke up before the painted face of a tarin druid came into the doe's vision. I'm so glad! We thought we'd lost you for a while there! That was a rather nasty bump you had!

I've had worse. The doe replied earnestly, waiting patiently as the druid checked her over. Do you suppose you could give me my flask? I could really use a drink.

Oh! Oh, of course, you poor thing! The druid replied before hurrying out of the tent. The doe watched her go then looked down to see a pile of her clothing, which had been folded neatly and rested on the ground beside the cot where she lay, the requested flask resting on top of the pile. She was just beginning to reach for it when the healer returned, carrying a small clay water pitcher and a bone cup. She filled the cup and offered it to her patient as she stammered an apology. I'm terribly sorry. I don't know why I didn't think to have water ready for you today. I swear I've had some every other day since you came here but it must have just-

The doe carefully lifted her head to take a sip, assisted by the druid, then grimaced and gently set the cup aside before laying her head back down and closing her eyes. I would prefer my own flask, if you would. She requested, interrupting the healer's rambling.

Leave us. Came a sudden gruff command before the healer could respond. She left without a word, leaving the injured doe alone with Rakthon and the pair of guards flanking him. The doe's eyes remained closed, but