Arms of Anu

By Christina Mercer

An adventurous tween/Young Adult Fantasy (sequel or stand alone) set in a Celtic-style world where magic, danger, and tests of love abound.

LIA yearns for the magic of trees, for freedom from the icy grip of prison, and for the loved ones she believes are lost to her forever. She must find a way out. She must break free not only to save her people, but to break the demon shade's spell now worming its way inside her.

KELVEN hides in the slums of Anu, striving for a way to save his beloved Lia and friend Wynn. A kingdom of tyrants, a raging war, and deceit lurking in every shadow have become his world, but nothing compares to the challenges he faces when darkness takes root inside Lia.

Excerpts:

"Pleasure and terror at what she could wreak had roared within her until her muscles were forged into unmoving parts, her eyes burned, and she heard only the voices of the fae chanting for revenge."

"The hypnotic flames flickered before his weary eyes, and his thoughts shifted back to Lia. His heart both sung and wept for her. Brume had transformed her, awakened her magic, and he knew high in the dark castle where she slept, her radiant soul outshone any the realm had ever seen."

Reviews:

"ARMS OF ANU is full of magic, an exciting adventure with rich settings and
characters you'll love." -Dawn Lairamore, Author of IVY'S EVER AFTER, a Bank Street Best Children's Book of the Year

"Christina Mercer's mythical realm in ARMS OF ANU is richly evocative of the natural world and echoes with lore and legend that might have been. Heroine Lia forges her own true path, igniting passion, loyalty and plant-magic where she wanders. A fresh, invigorating fantasy that spellbinds to the last enchanting page!" -Julia Park Tracey, Award-Winning Blogger, Journalist and Author

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christina Mercer
• Release date: Jun 12, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311034632

Christina Mercer

Christina Mercer is an award-winning author of fiction for children and young adults. Honored titles include Tween/YA Fantasy ARROW OF THE MIST and its sequel ARMS OF ANU, and YA Paranormal Romance HONEY QUEEN. She is also a once-upon-a-time CPA and the author of BEAN COUNTING FOR AUTHORS. Christina enjoys life in the foothills of Northern California with her husband and sons, a pack of large dogs, and about 100,000 honeybees. To learn more about her and her writing, visit www.christinamercer.com

Book preview

© 2014 Christina Mercer

Smashwords Edition

This is a work of fiction. The characters, names, places, incidents and dialogue are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form whatsoever without prior written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief passages embodied in critical reviews and articles.

Christina Mercer

P.O. Box 1845

Shingle Springs, CA 95682

http://www.christinamercer.com

Hosted by indie-visible ink

www.indie-visible.com

Cover art by Chelsea Starling

Formatted by Novel Ninjutsu

Edited by Julia Park Tracey

Dedication

Chapter 1: Broken Roots

Chapter 2: Plot

Chapter 3: Frostbite

Chapter 4: Rogue

Chapter 5: Creeper

Chapter 6: Stalk

Chapter 7: Tumbleweed

Chapter 8: Ring

Chapter 9: Rush

Chapter 10: Shoots

Chapter 11: Arms

Chapter 12: Entangled

Chapter 13: Weeping

Chapter 14: Dry Rot

Chapter 15: Dormant

Chapter 16: Petrified

Chapter 17: Heartwood

Chapter 18: Crowned

Acknowledgements

About the Author

For Dwayne and our boys,

Joshua and Quinton

Lia Griene folded birch-white arms against her chest. Wynn stood beside her with his wrists and ankles shackled in chains. Lia winced at the fresh blood seeping from her cousin’s wounds. She might have just enough knitbone sewn in the hem of her cloak to set a poultice on them after they returned to the cart.

If we return.

Royal Sage Conall eyed them, his mouth dripping with jellied pork and wine. I see your tempers have calmed since leaving Rockberg this morning. Amazing how rebels quiet under lock and key.

Lia tried to calm the loathing that brewed like bitter nightshade within her. She’d rather fight bog goblins for a thousand years than spend another minute before Nemetona’s nobility. But she held her composure. They still had a fortnight of travel to the royal city of Anu and she’d prefer to face the king with her tongue attached. She met the sage’s glare with silence.

He responded with a snort and continued to stuff his face with greasy meat. His brother, Royal Sage Lorne, cleared his throat and spat in a wrinkled cloth he kept gripped in his hand. He resembled Conall in crimson attire alone. Where Sage Conall was fat like the swine he feasted upon, Sage Lorne was akin to rotting leather over bone. He peered at Lia and Wynn from black hollows set too deep for the candlelight to reach.

His lips moved like threads as he spoke. In time, your fellow Northerners will discard your lies about enchanted creatures and miracle elixirs from the land of Brume—a land of nothing but icy mountains and sea crags. All will know the blight upon the North was an unfortunate spread of disease. One that many would have survived had there been more doctors trained by our academy.

Wynn tugged at his chains. "Our Granda died, Lia’s da nearly perished, and countless others fell to the Straif tree’s venom—"

Enough! Sage Lorne lifted his hand. He stared at Wynn, and Lia wondered if it was fear that rippled across the sage’s face. In spite of their predicament, she warmed with pride at Wynn’s boldness. Her cousin’s courage smoothed the edges of her fear, and she was reminded how they’d fought together against the perils of Brume.

The sage cleared his throat and lifted Wynn’s sword. Without its master’s touch, the blade’s radiance had dimmed. It took me the day to figure it out, but then it came to me, as it always does. His lips curled into a smile. ’Tis fluorspar, the trick that makes it glow. I’ve seen other shows of it, mostly where the mineral lights up blue or green when kept over a flame. You’ve found a rare specimen to hold such light, and quite a smith to forge it into a blade.

You see? Sage Conall cut in, spitting bits of pork across the table. He settled his hand upon his belly and belched. My brother and I are not fooled by such trickery, especially by insolent younglings.

And yet, Lia thought, your guards were foolish enough in their search for weaponry to miss the stone nestled beneath my tunic.

Sage Conall poked a pudgy finger in the air at Lia. And your pale skin and silver hair doesn’t fool us either. We’ve seen another like you, white from crown to toe, though his eyes were pink instead o’ green like your own. I’d think a bit of dyer’s woad could easily tint white hair to silver, but you should’ve kept it long. You look no more a lass than my stable boy.

His insult stung Lia. She missed her one vanity—long locks the color of fire. Wynn didn’t mind the bolt of white that cut across his own blond shag, and Kelven had assured Lia she was more beautiful now—that her skin and hair heralded her bravery in Brume. She wished she could believe him. She wished she was far away in a dense grove, warm within Kelven’s arms, listening to the voices of trees.

She forced aside such thoughts. She’d be lucky to survive Anu, lucky if she ever saw Kelven again. The royals proved just as she’d always figured: ignorant and power-hungry, and all the testaments cried out by those favoring Lia and Wynn’s deeds in Brume had only enhanced the sages’ need to cart them away as rebels.

The enchantments of Brume altered my appearance, Lia said. And Wynn’s blade was nothing more than steel before magic touched it.

Sage Conall scoffed, knocking over his goblet. His jaw hung, and food dangled from his teeth like tattered cloth.

More treason, Sage Lorne spat, rising like a reed. I suppose this magic would light up any such nonsense: this gold candlestick, or this silver spoon, or, with a sneer, he withdrew something from the inside of his cloak, perhaps this amber stone?

Lia’s heart raced. The fiends took it—they stole Grandma’s talisman!

Sage Lorne peered at Lia. He walked around the table with the honeyed stone displayed on his palm. One beach in all the land bestows amber, and the trek there is fierce by land and sea. Kings and nobles alone have the means to acquire such treasures. His words dangled as bait. Yet we found this rarity at your lowly cottage, snug in the hands of a girl with eyes to match her stone.

Holly!

A growl filled Wynn’s throat and he pulled at his chains, drawing a guard forward. Lia elbowed him to stay his anger. They had to remain calm. Injuries would only hinder their chances for escape.

What did you do to my cousin? Lia said, her voice as tight as a bowstring.

Sage Lorne pinned his eyes on her. He stepped closer, a corpse in animation. A sickly aroma of cabbage and pickled fish wafted from him. We named her a thief, and she fell to rambling when I ordered the guards to chop off her hands. ‘It came from my grandmother,’ she cried, ‘a family keepsake.’ Of course we had to know more before setting her free.

Wynn’s body shook. If you harmed my sister—

You’ll do what? You’re a prisoner at our mercy, a rebel against our doctrines of truth; you can do nothing but await an audience with King Brennus. We had to gain the facts, and the girl only suffered a little. Quite forthcoming, she was.

A measure of relief filled Lia. They had spared Holly. But then a new fear seized her. Wynn’s and her crimes of venturing to Brume and concocting a magic elixir would pale under the truth of Grandma’s lineage. Whatever hope they’d had to defend their actions was smothering under the weight of the amber.

Both sages stared at them in silence—two wolves assessing a tricky hunt. Sage Lorne wrapped his fingers like spider legs around the stone. That your grandmother was raised by a couple of poor widows only strengthened our charge of thievery. But the fact that your kinswoman was a babe orphaned in the Bronach Mountains made all the difference to me.

A shiver ran up Lia’s spine. Grandma’s place of birth was rare, indeed.

Sage Lorne’s eyes turned upward, as if he searched his memory. I was a boy when I sailed to the Bronach cliffs with King Gorsedd. His Majesty knew a young woman of the mountain tribes; Damara was her name, a wild vixen painted with woad.

His eyes fell back onto Lia. She had fiery hair and green eyes—much like your mother’s. The king sought out Damara’s amber and her people desired his gold.

Lia stifled a gasp, but the sage caught her reaction and peered at her like a cobra. The feral woman said the time of her kind was near its end, only a few left to bear young. No other people, save a handful of banished hags, dwelt in those craggy mountains. This woman could have . . . no, I’m quite sure this woman was, in fact, your kin.

Perhaps. Lia’s breath quickened. Who’s to know for sure?

Sage Lorne continued, The timing’s right, she was the one entrusted to gather amber from the sea, and no other held the honor.

Maybe she was our kin. Lia’s hands were slick with dread. She gathered amber for the king, took his gold, and one day gave birth to our grandmother. End of tale.

The sage leaned in toward Lia, triumph glinting across his eyes. Not end of tale. For she, my dear, was King Gorsedd’s lover.

Lia’s heart sank. It had taken a perilous journey to Brume, the old dwarf scout’s tale, and a vision shown by her stone to reveal Grandma Myrna’s royal lineage. It had only taken the existence of Grandma’s amber in the hands of a frightened girl to reveal this same truth to the royal sages.

Be glad your little cousin spilled the truth; it’s the only reason you’re not already dangling from a rope. With teeth gleaming like fangs, Sage Lorne motioned for his guards. Take the prisoners back to their cart. We continue to Anu at first light.

Two guards marched Lia and Wynn from the pavilion, and locked them away in the small cart. The cousins pondered their fate in the darkness, with only a hint of the soldiers’ campfires glowing through their slotted window. Lia’s only comfort was a nearby grove, the trees’ essence brushing the edges of her mind.

She managed to apply herbs to Wynn’s wrists and secure them with cloth. He remained silent while she worked, though rage shone from his eyes. When she leaned back on her bench he spoke. I suppose we should be grateful we’re worth something to those vermin.

Lia nibbled on her thumbnail. If not for their discovery, the sages would’ve already seen them hung. As direct threats to Brennus’s throne, they were not only worth keeping alive, but were sure to prove their weight in rewards. She supposed the king would have to give the sages whatever they asked for to discard their findings and carry out the executions as planned.

Wynn tried to straighten his legs in the cramped space. At least we didn’t have to die in front of our family. And we’ll have a little time while they haggle with the king.

Lia shivered. Yes, they’d have a little time, but then the truth of their bloodline would unleash a wrath beyond killing Lia and Wynn. The heirless king made it clear to his people that if he didn’t sire a son by his queen, he’d name one of his bastards as heir. Either way, he’d choose one from his own seed. And he’d cut down everyone in Lia and Wynn’s family to ensure there were no stray roots. The thought caused a lump to form in her throat.

She pressed her lips together and swallowed hard, keeping the notion to herself. She’d let Wynn ponder the coming days in his own way. The sages’ torment of Holly was enough for him to chew on right now. It was hard for Lia to think of her young cousin, shy as a fawn in spring, terrorized by beasts too vile to be called men. She could only imagine how many soldiers it must’ve taken to keep Aunt Brina from tearing down the walls of the cottage to get to her.

Wynn drew a hand through his blond shag and took a swig from his water skin. I should have run those sages through while I had the chance.

You had no choice, Lia said. They had your ma and mine, Holly and my da, and they’d have killed them if you hadn’t surrendered your sword.

At least now they can flee before more soldiers return, Lia thought. Da knew the Bryns as well as his own hands and he’d surely tuck Ma and the rest of the family away there.

Wynn folded his arms and let out a sigh that sounded more like a snarl. He closed his eyes, and Lia hoped sleep would grant him a reprieve from their plight.

She shifted her position on the hard bench in an attempt to get comfortable. Rolling up the bottom of her cloak to create a cushion for her back helped. She leaned her head against the rough wood of the cart and grabbed the pouch dangling against her chest. Her crystal stone warmed against the leather, but she didn’t dare release it. Its light would shine through the narrow window for all to see, and she wasn’t sure how its magic could help them anyway. Not yet at least.

So far, she’d used her stone to call forth visions of the past, enchant a sword and shield for Wynn, repel the Scalach shades, and defeat, if only for a while, the shades’ master, Draugyrd. She was sure the stone harbored other types of magic, but for now it served purely as a comfort—a piece of home.

They spent the rest of the journey across Nemetona confined to the prison cart. They relied on the pack of food allowed them before they set out from Rockberg, and Lia tried to ignore the taunts from the guards whenever she was let out of the cart to empty their privy pot. The extent of their scoffs toward Wynn was renaming him Lord Lightning, but Lia’s unique appearance gave the men ample fodder for her torment. That’d be my helm you’re wearing, they’d tease, or, Where’s the ice storm? Or the one that made her stomach turn, I wonder if you’re as lily-white under those breeches.

Lia didn’t know whether to be relieved or more despairing that the sages didn’t summon them again. She only caught glimpses of their crimson pavilion when they stopped for the nights. King Brennus’s father, King Arlan, had chosen the two horrid brothers as Nemetona’s Royal Sages, granting them the power to impose their wisdom upon the people. King Arlan’s harsh reign had changed royal law across the land, forbidding the old crafts and denouncing the existence of magic. And during the past decade, King Brennus had proved even harsher than his father.

The route the sages chose led them far from Nemetona’s groves, intensifying Lia’s misery. The occasional apple or hazelnut tree helped fill the emptiness that plagued her whenever too much distance came between her and the trees. She wondered if the sages avoided the groves on purpose. Perhaps they hadn’t altogether discarded the North’s claims about a deadly, enchanted tree.

Halfway to Anu, she spotted a few slender birch, or Beth trees, shining like ghosts in the night. She shot her mind out to them as if grasping for air, filling her core with their graceful essence. Thoughts rushed in of silvery springs and cleansing rain, white stags and new moons, and sweet whispers offering a place to rest her head. For a moment, the ache in her body washed away and her worries faded under salves of wintergreen. But as the cart moved farther from them, her yearning consumed her once more.

Two weeks of travel from Rockberg finally brought them to the walls of Anu under a gray afternoon sky. Lia peered from their tiny window at the armored guards lining the gatehouse. The long days of their journey had dulled her fear, but now, as the royal sages’ procession entered the city, her insides twisted like bindweed.

A few of the guards shouted to make way for the caravan, and they rolled down the main road. Lia gazed at the shabby dwellings and makeshift shops swarming with city folk, their faces as thin and drawn as the clothing draped over their backs. Side streets teemed with merchants calling out the nature of their wares, people haggling for better prices, and soldiers shoving in and out of the crowds. Cook fires burned under cauldrons and skewers, sending out aromas that battled the stench of muck and filth lining the roadway. Despite her fear, the hint of roasted meat caused Lia’s stomach to grumble.

She peeled her gaze from the window and grabbed their food pack. We’ve still a measure of bread. She tore a hunk of each and handed the fare to Wynn, then divvied out a helping for herself.

Stinking city. Gimme a farm in Kilnsgate any day—open air and skies, green pastures to roam free. These overrun Southlands are nothing more than the rotting face of Nemetona. Wynn leaned back with a scowl, and stuffed the bread into his mouth.

Lia sighed, all too aware of the barren soil beneath them. The deeper they went into the walled city, the hollower she felt. King Brennus has disgraced us all.

Yeah, and we’re related to that grobian, Wynn spouted, spitting breadcrumbs.

Lia pinched her lips and pushed several strands of hair behind her ear. She attempted to calm her nerves by shifting focus to her body. The cart didn’t allow for much movement, but she stretched her neck and arms as best she could. Her lean muscles had started to soften in their days trapped in the cart.

How I wish to run free, she thought, far from these