Shadow Thief, The Darkling Chronicles #3

By Tricia Zoeller

*This is the third book (novella-length) in The Darkling Chronicles series*

Natcha is a creature of fire, drawing in shadow to cloak herself from the dangers of the world. She has never known what she is or where she came from, but she knows her wings and claws make her different. The sea cliffs of Montenai are her home, the Aglatian Sea her playground, and the phantoms her family.

All her life, she has hidden in the Faunlier Mountains with her sister Nalene. Only the oath she swore as a child to a darkling father to watch over his son draws her toward the turmoil in Shadowland.

When unrest among the darklings, satyrs, nymphs, and dragon lords begins to bleed into her own life, Natcha wagers the welfare of one against the welfare of many. To protect all she holds dear, she must incur the wrath of Shadowland’s leaders and become... the Thief.

But when power and love collide, can either really win?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tricia Zoeller
• Release date: Apr 30, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311123664

Tricia Zoeller

Tricia lives in Marietta, Georgia with her husband, Lou, her little yappy dog, Lola Belle, and her big orange mutant cat, George. Her two stepsons, Joseph and Robert, make stopovers as well, making sure to keep life an adventure.Tricia earned a B.A. in Journalism and Anthropology from Indiana University in Bloomington. After moving to Atlanta in 1992, she obtained her Masters of Education in Communication Disorders from Georgia State University and spent a decade working as a Speech-Language Pathologist, most recently in the pediatric field treating children on the Autism Spectrum.Writing has always been a part of her life–like breathing and chocolate. To reach Tricia or get the latest stories, please visit: www.triciazoeller.com or find her on Goodreads http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17670526-first-born

Book preview

Copyright @ 2014 by Tricia Zoeller

Smashwords Edition 2014

Shadow Thief, The Darkling Chronicles #3

Copyright @ 2014 by Tricia Zoeller

Smashwords Edition 2014

Published by Blue Portal Press, LLC

http://www.triciazoeller.com/

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, institutions, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination, or, if real, used fictitiously. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the publisher except in the case of brief quotations in critical articles and reviews.

Book Formatting by Angela McLaurin, Fictional Formats

https://www.facebook.com/FictionalFormats

Editing by Nancy S. Thompson

https://www.facebook.com/NancySThompsonAuthor

Cover Art by Robin Harper, Wicked By Design

https://www.facebook.com/WickedByDesignRobinHarper

Map by Jared Blando, TheRedEpic.com

http://www.theredepic.com/

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

MAP OF MONTENAI

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

GLOSSARY OF MONTENAI TERMS & CHARACTERS

CONTINUE READING …

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

For my sisters, with love!

A heartfelt thank you to these amazing people: editor, Nancy S. Thompson, cover artist, Robin Harper of Wicked by Design, cartographer, Jared Blando of TheRedEpic.com, and formatter, Angela McLaurin with Fictional Formats. Thank you for your patience and dedication.

My deepest gratitude to my superheroes (beta readers): Martina McWilliams, Annalee Higginbottom, Crystal Marine Dorothy, Karen Chamberlain, Cheryl Puetz, Stacy Bailey Darnell, and Amanda Walsh.

A shout out to my shield maidens: Fiona Skye, Jennifer Ponce, and M.A. Ray. Thank you for answering questions at all hours of the night about swords, sheaths, and anything magical or mystical.

Thanks for the support and inspiration: Michele May, Barbara LaRochelle Cutrera, and Alison G. Bailey.

Finally, to the readers—thanks for taking a chance and stepping through the portal!

I am a creature of fire, directing my own concert of shadow and light to cloak myself from the dangers in the world. My concealment has been effective—I don’t even know who or what I am. The sea cliffs of Montenai have always been my home, the Aglatian Sea my private pool, and the phantoms my family.

Only one satyr and nymph have detected a whisper of my presence in the Faunlier Mountains. When I was a tiny hatchling, Cornelius Jeremiah of the Fardoragh herd, and Magda, the nymph mother of the kirka, heard my cries. Despite three protective phantoms hounding them, they braved the haunted woods each week to leave supplies for a baby they only believed existed but could not see. What if they had seen me—a fair-skinned Montenaian with wings, scales, and claws?

They tried to break through the phantom shield again when they heard the cries of another baby, my sister, Nalene. Apparently, my cloaking concealed her, too. My early years in Montenai were a blur until she appeared, bringing life into clear focus.

It was a starry night when the phantoms led me through fresh fallen snow to an abandoned baby at the river’s edge. From my phantom Serena’s stories, I guessed I was three years old when I wrapped my arms around the tiny, helpless creature. In an instant, I knew love. My fire surged to the surface, helping warm the baby, to restore color to her blue cheeks and steady breaths to her little body. For my sister, Nalene, breathing had not been automatic but a rigorous fight.

From that night on, we have always been each other’s balance. We have lived an isolated but safe existence in the sea cliffs. To her, I’m Natcha—sister and mother. To the satyr and nymph, I’m a mysterious secret. To the darklings, I’ve been nothing for over twenty-three years.

Until today.

Now, I’m the thief.

Lord Akton was the tallest of the dragon lords—and the palest. His lighter skin caused the sprinkling of red scales to stand out more on his face. They lined his hairline, touched the scarring by his missing eye, and trailed off his cheek like a path of tears. Although I didn’t think this dragon lord ever cried, I imagined he had made many weep.

His reputation of seeing with his one golden eye motivated me to take caution when spying in Shadowland. I usually avoided the Wishing Tree. Tonight, I braved the closeness due to my fascination with the Salvas. Nalene and I spied on their family shamelessly because the son, Zack, was my sister’s age.

His father, Alexander Salva, had been the head chef for the dragon lords until recently when he lost his job in the Wishing Tree. Zack’s mother, Marta, was the cordwainer for a new shop in the South Village called Good for the Sole. While she worked long hours making shoes, her husband drank…and drank. Most nights he found his way home to the apartment above their shop.

We often shadowed Zack. He never knew because my cloaking hid us from sight. We were drawn to him because he seemed so alone. It was difficult to watch him deal with his father, who once was responsible and loving, but now known as the town drunk.

Hidden from everyone, we saw things, heard things. Nalene didn’t always comprehend, but I did. I had seen the fear in the dragon lords’ eyes. All three dragon lords, Akton, Leasith, and Bulosk, had been watching Mr. Salva. I’m only twelve, but I recognize when a creature feels threatened. Tonight, I was so scared for Mr. Salva, fear roared inside my head. It made focusing on my cloaking difficult. Still, I drew from the shadows and shaped the light to cover my presence.

I’d left my little sister in the care of my phantom, Serena. Maybe not the best sitter for your fledgling but not the worst. If she needed me, Nalene could always communicate in my head.

I wasn’t worried for my sister tonight but for the grown darkling who stood in the shadows of the Wishing Tree all alone with the leader of the darklings. Not even the usual door attendant was present at the entrance of the Wishing Tree, the grand sequoia where the lords lived.

Cicada played their music at full volume in the clear summer night while colonies of bats squeaked from the top of the tree. My excellent hearing allowed me to catch every word of the unfolding conversation.

Alexander. Thanks for coming.

Yesss, m’ Lord. Mr. Salva slurred and swayed in place. A dress shirt hung from him, wrinkled and soiled, the collar half up/half down.

Akton’s golden eye glowed softly in the dark. I studied the scarring on the right side of his face, marks made by his father’s clawed hand. It caused me to shiver even in Montenai’s summer heat.

You don’t look well, my friend. I think we should talk about what unsettles you.

Lies. You spit filth n’ lies.

The dragon leader relaxed against the trunk of the Wishing Tree and waited, one long leg bent at the knee. The lords wore fitted shirts underneath their finely tailored suits. His casual stance looked awkward with such fancy clothes.

I held my breath. Please don’t, Mr. Salva. Please don’t.

You, you mean to shhhhame my family. Tellin’ all-a-Shadahlan’ I’us f-fired. Come unhinged.

Lord Akton folded his arms across his chest.

I quit. Anyaknow sssomethin’…I’m not soooree. I know somethin’s not right with you or this tree.

Alexander. I’m going to ask you one last time. What is it you think you heard from the tree?

He shook his head. Doesn’matter. Doesn’matter. With a wave of his hand, he turned toward the boardwalk, dismissing the lord.

Why don’t you go home, Alexander. Skip the pub tonight.

Grumbling, the darkling wavered his way down the path. Lord Akton watched for a moment before entering the doorway beneath a golden shield that showed a dragon looking down at its shadow.

Everything felt off. For some sick reason, I followed the drunk darkling and waited patiently outside the pub for him. I knew Zack would come looking for his father, as he had done almost every night this week.

While I waited, I daydreamed about living in Shadowland as one of them. I would definitely live in the North Village, close to the portal to earth and in the shade of the Sequoia Forest. I’d drink coffee every morning at Mr. Rehmling’s shop, Chocolate Syncope. The thought of chocolate-covered strawberries had me drooling. I don’t know how long I sat on that bench along the boardwalk. Maybe an hour. When Mr. Salva stumbled out of III Brothers’ Pub mumbling to himself about demons, I forgot about desserts and nice things.

Demons?

He carried a large satchel over his shoulder and turned his head from side to side as he walked. I tiptoed behind him, passed the Wishing Tree to the river’s edge, just at the mouth of the haunted Ballatian Woods.

So not the right direction for making it home. I didn’t like the wild look in his eye or the fact he’d chosen the river’s edge as his place to sober up.

I kept looking through the trees, hoping someone would come collect him.

Dad?

The sound of Zack’s voice off in the distance brought me both relief and dread. I retraced my steps along the path of South Village to find him walking along the wooden boardwalk beside the Montenai River. Wearing shirt, shorts, and soft leather moccasins, he didn’t move like most nine-year-olds. His stance reminded me of an adult, his pace serious. He was the parent trying to find the wandering child.

Most nights, I let him figure things out on his own. Tonight, I broke twigs and rustled leaves up ahead to draw him on the correct course toward his confused father.

Dad? Zack yelled as he pushed aside the overgrown branches of mountain laurel. He never hesitated as he stepped onto the pitch-black path of the Ballatian Woods. He didn’t draw the attention of the phantoms who guarded the woods like a dragon does its treasure. They usually nipped at a creature, freezing its will, until it turned from the borders of their home. But even my phantoms understood the troubled situation between the father and son.

My breath caught when we reached the river. Alexander Salva was not where I’d left him. The frogs croaked so loudly, I couldn’t hear myself think. Where did he go? His satchel lay crumpled on the bank.

Panic twisted the features of Zack’s face as he scanned the water. Dad? He paced the small opening between the trees. Dad! His voice cracked, and tears streamed down his cheeks. What have you done? he asked the river.

My vision is better than my hearing. I spotted movement twenty yards out and spread my wings. Mr. Salva’s eyes widened at my approach, the whites showing under the starlight. He could see me. Soaking wet, he trembled on a wide boulder. Sand and grit clung to his black beard.

Demon, he hissed.

What?

"You look like a fledgling. I guess that’s the sick way of the dark. It tries to confuse me with a young face." He had been holding something down at his side but drew the object up in front of him. The heavy, steel longsword shook in Mr. Salva’s hand.

My cloaking was still on. I knew by the soft whisper it made in my ears. Why could Mr. Salva suddenly see me? I stood still. Nalene had told me my shimmering wings were pretty, not symbols of evil. Why did he think I was a demon? My heart raced in my chest. I didn’t know what to do with an armed, drunk darkling who was apparently scared of me.

I’m just a hatchling. You look like you need help. My eyes darted back and forth from him to the immense sword with beautiful etchings of stars running up and down its blade. Where did he get it? I didn’t remember him carrying anything when he spoke to Lord Akton. He had the satchel when he left the pub.

I don’t need your kind of help! The tree told me what I needed to do. I’ve lost everything because of this sword, and I will not let you or the demons within this vessel destroy my family or Shadowland.

The Wishing Tree talked to him? Why hadn’t he confided in the lords? What did the tree say? My voice trembled.

Maneuvering the sword’s tip much closer to my face, he tilted his head.

I put my hands up. Mr. Salva, could you please lower that away from me. I like my face the way it is.

His jaw dropped. A demon who knows my name? I’m more cursed than I ever imagined.

He lowered the sword for a moment, allowing me to see the wings that comprised the branched handguard. With his shoulders sagging, he looked down. His soaked shirt clung to him and was bunched up and twisted around his middle. Blood dripped from his wrist to the rock.

Face pale, he brought his attention back to me. You’re a beautiful demon-child, but your eyes give you away.

When I’m sad, nervous, or frightened, my fire surfaces, causing my pupils to change and eyes to glow in a nondarkling way. I tried to think of nothing but the cool Aglatian Sea. It usually brought my dragon down, and restored my eyes to their normal blue.

Apparently, this didn’t change Mr. Salva’s opinion of me. He drew the sword over his head with both hands.

Dad?

With the sharp sword glinting over me in the moonlight, I’d forgotten about Zack on the bank. There was no way Zack could see his father this far out in the river, but he could have heard snatches of the heated exchange, especially the loud shouts of demon.

At the sound of his son’s voice, Mr. Salva clenched his jaw tight and spun away from me, toward the opposite bank. He moved to throw the sword into the dark water beyond, but he went with it. Ten seconds went by before he surfaced. His blood-curdling screams startled birds from nearby trees. My sister’s shrieks in my head accompanied his cries.

Natcha! Natcha!

I’ll be there in a minute, Leeni.

I’m scared.

You’ll be fine with Serena, I said.

I blocked her out as I launched myself toward Mr. Salva. I found him clinging to