Alora

By Megan Linski

Alora has been queen for hundreds of years. 

 

Ruling over one of the most remote parts of the world, she spends her summers riding upon a wild stallion, her winters as a winged wolf, never changing, forever at an eternal sixteen.

 

Then he arrives. 

 

Against her better judgment, Alora finds herself falling for a young boy with a kind heart. Unable to tame her desire, Alora is forced to face the fact that humans and immortals can never be together. If she chooses to love August, she will lose her eternal life, and she will die. 

 

Yet there's a monster lurking in the shadows, a hunter determined to make Alora his prize. She must make the most challenging decision of her life. True love, or immortality?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gryfyn Publishing
• Release date: Nov 1, 2014
• ISBN: 9781516312818

Megan Linski

Megan Linski is the owner of Gryfyn Publishing and has had a passion for writing ever since she completed her first (short) novel at the age of 6. Her specializations are romance, fantasy, and contemporary fiction for people aged 14-24. When not writing she enjoys ice skating, horse riding, theatre, archery, fishing, and being outdoors. She is a passionate advocate for mental health awareness and suicide prevention, and is an active fighter against common variable immune deficiency disorder. She lives in Michigan. Megan Linski also writes under the pen name of Natalie Erin for the Creatures of the Lands Series, co-authored with Krisen Lison.

Book preview

1

THE PLACE WHERE SHE LIVED

The Anmortal lived in the woods, a forest that was made of tall majestic pines and birch trees whose bark glowed white in the dark. Kingly oaks thrummed deep mahogany in the light, leaves of more value than diamonds. When the trees bloomed in spring, they were greener and more precious than emeralds in the summer, more colors than a rainbow in the fall. At these trees' roots sprouted lady’s slippers and chrysanthemums, green shoots and mushroom sprouts. This woodland rolled over the earth in hills and slept by a large lake, which, back in the old times, was made of liquid sapphire, but now was simply a dulled turquoise.

The Anmortal was a female. She had lived there longer than perhaps time itself could remember. Her name was Alora, and she was the most beautiful creature the land had ever seen. Her knee-length hair was the rich brown color of the forest owls, cascading past her waist like the waterfalls that lay in secret beyond the trees. Her skin was the color of snow on an early morning’s sunrise, her cheekbones raised and elegant. The Anmortal’s lips shone of pale rose, her legs long and graceful as the deer that danced nearby. She wore a white deerskin dress, jewelry made of shells and stones she had collected from the lake. Her eyes shone the color the lake once had been, shining sapphire, with a ring of emerald around her black pupils. She could have passed for a young woman-- though no creature ever mistook her for one, or no human either, if they looked properly.

Even though she had lived for centuries, the Anmortal remained at the age of sixteen. And, like all Anmortals, she was set in a certain way. In the spring and the summer, Alora lived as a girl. As soon as the last leaf fell and the first snow fluttered to the ground, she would go into a deep sleep to awaken as a pearly pelted she-wolf, white coat flashing with the extravagance of clouds, on her back two large and graceful swan wings. She would fly high above the land that the humans called Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. It was the land the Anmortals refused to name, for the land was so achingly beautiful that if one allowed themselves to fall too far in love, their heart would only break.

Although there were no fellow Anmortals around and no humans populated the place for miles, Alora wasn’t lonely. She had the company of her horse, Tanglemane, to keep her happy and safe in the warm months. When winter came, Tanglemane would run off with the deer and come back once Alora had transformed into a girl again.

During the winter, Alora wandered alone. She had no family. Her parents, also Anmortals, had flown off together during the winter very long ago. They did not come back. Her younger brother Agathi had stayed until he had reached his own particular Anmortal age of twenty-one and would age no more. He left, lumbering into the snows with his great shaggy paws to catch whitefish and fight other bears.

In the way of the Anmortals, he did not come back either once he had left.

Alora missed them, but she did not want them to return. Anmortals always lived alone or with mates. They did not desire company, and so Alora was never lonely.

Time didn’t exist for Alora. She would walk through the forest barefoot in the spring. Flowers would sprout up where she had stepped. In summer she rode like lightning through the tall trees on Tanglemane, and he would scare off the badgers and wolverines that ventured too close. In autumn she would rise from beds of newly fallen leaves, and go to the lakeshore to inhale its fresh scent. She would stand in the sand and the waves would crash around her like magic, making her feel alive.

Winter, however, was her favorite. She would glide along the tips of pines, howling her way to the half moon as the essence of clouds, cold and dignified, floated down and made a cloak upon her back as if crowning her queen. She would dance in the rain and scream to the thunder, proclaiming her love to the Sanctifier, the one who was in the earth, that who owned her soul and would take it back one day when the world finally turned to stone and Anmortals were no more.

She was free. Nothing mattered more to Alora than her freedom. She never wanted anything more.

But her rule could not last forever. The world that she knew changed forever the day that he came.

2

SHOTS IN THE CABIN

She first saw him on a summer’s day as warm as the sun’s embrace. Alora and Tanglemane walked freely along a shelf of land above a river, their steps sending sand and rocks tumbling into the water.

Tanglemane himself was as handsome as Alora was beautiful. He was coal black, with a white blaze down his forehead that sharpened into an arrow point upon his nose, a patch of white on his haunches that was dotted with black spots. His spindly legs had two white socks in the front, hooves of darkest garnet. A stripe of silver appeared in his black tail, which was combed clean. It was the opposite of his mane, which hung in impossible knots and had been braided that morning with eagle feathers by Alora.

His black eyes were young and patient. Like Alora, Tanglemane didn’t age.

Alora was hunting. She ate no meat until the winter and she was in her wolf skin, preferring to survive on the berries and plants she harvested instead. Yet she had spotted an old injured stag only an hour ago, and planned to put the poor animal out of his misery. She would gather what meat she could in her fur bag and take enough hide to make another dress. She then would leave the rest to the wolves.

A quiver of homemade arrows hung from the bag, an elder bow strung across her back. Her father had made it for her before he left, and it had never shown a sign of age after decades of use. Before her wolf skin she would hide it in the same pelt hut she called home, and go back to retrieve it in the spring.

A child’s giggle made them halt and turn their heads toward the river. They peered through the branches and saw two people fishing in a boat out on the water.

One was a very large man, hair the color of grain and arms as big around as tree trunks. He tossed a fishing rod into the water and showed his son how to do the same. He was a three-year-old with brass colored hair, a very round nose with red cheeks. The child laughed and imitated him, giving out a cheer as the fly hit the water.

Alora watched with interest. She had not seen Man since the days when great chiefs and their warriors roamed the lands. That had been centuries ago, but to Alora, it seemed like a couple of months. The boat itself was motorized. Tanglemane’s ears flickered back and forth in interest at the engine’s hum.

Now easy there, August. Reel it in nice and slow, the father said, demonstrating how.

Like this, Daddy? The boy jerked the bait roughly out of the water. The man had to duck to avoid being hit.

Don’t take out my eye! The man grabbed the boy’s arms and chuckled, smiling at his son.

The child dropped his head and said, I’m never gonna catch a fish.

The man clapped his hand on the boy’s tiny shoulder. Yes, you will. Besides… that’s what this is for.

The man pulled out a long rifle and shot it into the water. Tanglemane was spooked by the noise and ran off. Alora, who knew what guns were but had never seen one before, merely looked on with curiosity. Several stunned fish floated to the top of the river. The man gathered them up by hand, throwing them into a plastic box.

I think that’s called cheating, Daddy, the boy said with a giggle.

The man’s back was turned, so his face was impossible to read. I think it’s called dinner. Your mother won’t be happy if I come home empty handed.

Alora took a step backward and her foot cracked on a branch. The man whipped his rifle around, pointing at the exact spot where Alora lay hidden behind the reeds.

Daddy, what are you doing? the boy asked.

Shush, the man commanded. There’s something in the woods.

Alora froze. The man was still, his finger on the trigger. Alora looked into the barrel of the gun that was aimed directly between her eyes.

Finally, he let the gun down. Must’ve been a bird, he said. Come on, little man. Let’s go home.

The man fired up the engine and Alora watched it sail away. It was long gone before she turned around to call for Tanglemane.

It’s too dangerous here, my friend, she told him softly. From now on, we must learn to be careful.

While Alora was picking flowers by a pond one day, she and Tanglemane heard the brush crackling.

Tanglemane’s head rose up. He put his ears back as a warning, but Alora shooed him into the trees. The girl gathered up the wet ends of her deerskin dress and hid behind the reeds, peering out to observe what was disturbing her peaceful afternoon.

It was only the child, August. But what was he doing here? His parents weren’t around. Alora suspected that he wasn’t supposed to be out on his own, not at such a young age. The boy threw rocks into the water and watched the ripples, his eye catching the sight of a spotted green toad.

The child squealed. His hands reached out to catch it, only to have his sandals slip on the sleek rock, tumbling into the water.

The pond was several feet deep at its lowest places. The boy sank right down to the bottom like weights were on his legs. Alora sprang into action, jumping into the water and swimming forward with the skill of a river trout. She took a deep breath and dove down, groping through the muggy water for the toddler’s fingers.

She couldn’t see! It was like sloughing through slimy moss. Every particle of filth clung to her as she struggled to seek the boy out through the plants and the darkness…

Finally, she had his arm. Alora swam upward, kicking her feet until her legs burned. Her eyes sought upward, to the surface twelve feet above. Her body became entangled in the weeds and she was trapped, struggling as she tried to force her way to blissful freedom.

She needed to breathe… she was going to be imprisoned here, forever…

The boy must be saved, she thought, and as a last resort she tried pushing the boy above her.

The pond splashed. Alora wretched herself free, glimpsing Tanglemane’s legs and grabbing onto his neck with one hand while the other held the boy. She gasped for air as Tanglemane pulled them to land and freedom, each intake of air feeling like a dagger repeatedly stabbing in and out of her throat.

She lay the boy on his back and pressed into his chest a few times. Minutes passed, and he did not stir.

Breathe, child! she said, exhaling deeply into his throat. He came around, sputtering water out of his mouth with tears in his eyes.

When his eyes opened she saw that they were the same colors of the things she loved. The rustic brown of forest wood, the deep mahogany she treasured most.

His mouth dropped open when he saw her and he stuttered, Who… who are you?

She smiled at him, her mouth forming dimples. I am Alora, August.

How do you know my name? he asked in wonder.

She pulled him to his feet and responded honestly, "I’ve seen you before. I am concerned about you. Why are you here

Reviews for Alora

[saharafoley · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

The story starts as a light, fanciful tale as Alora flits around in her selfish, magical world of being an Anmortal. But as the years progress, she starts feeling seeds of loneliness and doubt. Is she the only Annortal left? Is the Windcomer real, or just a myth? And if he is real, will he devour her too? Megan does a wonderful job depicting the world that Alora lives in. I really enjoyed the winter seasons, when she would turn into her winged-wolf form. Megan’s descriptions of how Alora feels while in her wolf-form makes you feel a part of her as she’s soaring over the tree tops, hungry for prey.Then she runs across August, and her life is changed forever. August is a small boy when Alora first meets him, but as the years pass, she finds herself drawn to the human boy. I really didn’t quite get what she saw in August, I couldn’t connect with him at all. He has a wishy-washy personality, sorta like a Charlie Brown. His personality changed, depending on the people he surrounded himself with. I also didn’t like the relationship between him & his mother, and then at the end, his mother and father get back together again. Too fairy tale for me.When this story turned dark, and Alora found herself stuck in her wolf-form, I got upset and put this story away for awhile. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it struck a nerve in me. So good job, Megan. You made me feel an emotional response to the plight of your character. I also liked the interplay between Alora and Windcomer. I wasn’t really sure what Windcomer’s motives were. Did he really want to devour her, or was he in love with her? Their relationship was oddly appealing to me. Once I got past the dark-side of Alora, and she grew to realize what her destiny was, the rest of the story was pretty predictable.Here are my major points of contention. Even though this is a fantasy world, the author still has to follow laws of physics. How could Tanglemane pass through the briar patch in front of Alora’s cave, when August couldn’t? Windcomer wreaked havoc in the woods, flattening trees as he went. Why didn’t any humans notice him, or for that matter, that Alora never aged? When Alora, August and Claret are fighting Windomer on the island, how could Claret climb back down a steep cliff with a severely injured leg. After Alora and August climbed up that steep cliff, there was suddenly a small boat, next to Claret’s head. How did they get it back down the cliff? These types of implausible actions caused me to jump out of the story.In spite of the above, I did enjoy the story and recommend it for anyone who loves fairy tales with a HEA. I give it 4 feathers.