Spirit Rider: The Series of Kanesha's Heart, Book 1

By A. Grace Martin

Like a beacon of light in a dark world, the soul of a young magician walks the border between this world and the next. The spirit rider must unify her kingdom of magic, or all shall perish. The lands of dragons, trolls, goblins, unicorns, fairies, warriors, and magicians collide as the spirit rider seeks unity. Her journey unveils the great strength that each individual on Earth inherently has within them. For great strength lives within us all

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press
• Release date: Mar 14, 2014
• ISBN: 9781452592886

A. Grace Martin

A. Grace Martin has been passionate about writing since a young age. The Kingdom of Ralshur that appears in her fantasy world of Kahesh is a wonderful break from her everyday reality working in biophysics. She has a wide array of interests, including family, friends, sports, nature, animals, teaching, writing, spirituality, and personal development. She is currently pursuing a career in science education in Alberta, Canada, where she lives with her husband, dog, and cat.

Book preview

Copyright © 2014 A. Grace Martin.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Balboa Press books may be ordered through booksellers or by contacting:

Balboa Press

A Division of Hay House

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.balboapress.com

1 [phone]

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

The author of this book does not dispense medical advice or prescribe the use of any technique as a form of treatment for physical, emotional, or medical problems without the advice of a physician, either directly or indirectly. The intent of the author is only to offer information of a general nature to help you in your quest for emotional and spiritual well-being. In the event you use any of the information in this book for yourself, which is your constitutional right, the author and the publisher assume no responsibility for your actions.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-4525-9289-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4525-9287-9 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4525-9288-6 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014903215

Balboa Press rev. date: 2/14/2014

Contents

Prologue

PART I

Chapter 1: The Beginning

Chapter 2: Magical Beings

Chapter 3: Eagle Eyes and Owl’s Wisdom

Chapter 4: A Royal Man

Chapter 5: Skin of Fire

Chapter 6: High-Running Emotions

Chapter 7: An Unexpected Challenge

Chapter 8: Across the North

Chapter 9: The Warrior Tribe

Chapter 10: Masters and Masterminds

Chapter 11: Training

Chapter 12: Gremlins of the Deep

Chapter 13: Journey to the Estuary

Chapter 14: Water Wizard

Chapter 15: The Estuary of Mysteries

PART II

Chapter 16: The Collapse

Chapter 17: Rescue Mission

Chapter 18: Crashing Thunder

With love,

for all those who are walking the lonely road.

Know that you are never alone,

for great power lives within us all.

Prologue

I t was getting dark, and the moon was rising over the treetops, as the cry of a newborn babe pierced the air. The sound erupted only momentarily from within the thin walls of the house, yet the Kingdom of Ralshur had never heard such song in a baby’s cry.

Inside, the new father surrendered his child back to his wife’s open arms. But the mother hastily wrapped her daughter in a white cloth and handed the bundle to her maid.

Panting from the pains of childbirth, her dark blonde hair clinging to her still sweat-soaked face, she gasped, Go as fast as you can with her to Daithi the Wizard. He shall know what to do. Her green eyes filled with tears, mirroring a deeper sorrow. Take a horse from the stable. Now go!

The maid did not move. Mesmerized, she stared down at the babe in her arms. Its cries had faded now, but its tiny body gave off a faint blue glow. The protective magic surrounded the cloth in a tight embrace, its blue light dancing around the infant’s skin.

Go! Do not return. Do not look back. Do not let yourself be followed, the mother said, reaching up from her bed to shake the younger woman’s sleeve.

The maid snapped out of her daze, clutched the child to her chest, and dashed away. The father took one step after her, seeing the last of his only child. The mother sobbed and sank back into her pillows and he returned to her side. He clutched her hand in his.

She will be safe, my love, he whispered into her ear. She has your strength. Did you not hear the song of the forests in her cry? She is safe with the maid. She will be safe with Daithi.

Bitter tears of despair broke from the woman’s eyes as sobs overtook her.

In a barely audible voice, she vowed, My heart will live to see our love defeat all evil.

PART I

CHAPTER ONE

The Beginning

T he morning sun was just awakening on the horizon as a rooster proclaimed the new day from atop the chicken coop.

Already Nabrie was hard at work milking the goats. She looked up at the rooster, still crowing vigorously, and sighed to herself. Wouldn’t it be nice to not do any chores today?

Young and slender, with golden hair and green eyes, Nabrie was not yet fifteen. She wore a ragged white blouse torn from hard wear, and a long and shabby brown skirt. As she strode with her milk bucket from the goat pen to the house, she moved with natural grace. As a servant for the Gregory homestead, Nabrie had worked as hard as an adult woman from the time she was eight. Until that time, Mrs. Gregory had her clean the house every morning, but then she was allowed to play outside. It was a strange relationship; Nabrie was treated more as a working guest than a formal servant, and yet she still felt a division between herself and the rest of the family.

As she reached the farmhouse, smoke was rising from the brick chimney above the straw thatch roof that rose to a high peak at the middle of the house, and sloped down as low as Nabrie’s elbow at the edges. It was a simple farmhouse, like thousands of others around the Kingdom of Mar.

Mrs. Gregory joined her in the kitchen and stretched her thick arms above her head as she yawned.

Up afore that cock crows ag’in? said the plump woman with a smile. She teased, Ye don’ need to work alone; there’ll be nothin’ fer me to do all day!

Nabrie grinned at the motherly Mrs. Gregory, set down the goat’s milk, and began to make breakfast.

Mr. Gregory’s laugh echoed through the small house.

Mah lad! Tis mornin,’ get up! he said.

Mr. Gregory ducked through the doorway, playfully hauling his youngest son over his broad shoulder. The other three boys, who were all hungry and eager to be fed, followed them shortly.

When the meal was over, the men went out to the field to tend the cattle and sheep.

Nabrie and Mrs. Gregory collected eggs and vegetables, drew water from the well, and tidied the house and yard. For lunch, they took cheese and fresh bread out to the men. Then Mrs. Gregory sat on the porch to knit while Nabrie took a reed basket of the family’s dirty clothes down to the river.

She was thankful to be alone. It was the end of the week and she allowed herself to work casually. The spring afternoon was balmy, so she shed her own clothes and washed them along with the others.

Once she had hung the clean clothes from a rope between two trees, she climbed onto a large rock that jutted out over the bank. She jumped upwards, her body curving through the air, and dived neatly into the water. With powerful strokes, she swam against the current before turning onto her back and floating downstream.

When she emerged from the water, she used her pocketknife to fashion a comb from a piece of wood and tidied her long golden-blonde hair before binding it back with a cloth. She lay down to let the sunshine and the breeze dry her, enjoying a few precious minutes of rest.

Nabrie was a hard worker, but she never complained and was thankful for the Gregorys’ generosity. Sometimes, in the depths of her heart, she longed to sail the winds far away from here. She could not help feeling that she was meant to do something greater than daily chores. She wanted to meet people and see different towns and cities.

In the intervals between housework, Mrs. Gregory had taught her how to read, and the few books at the farmhouse had inspired her imagination. Her conscious mind scoffed at dreams of a different life—she was nothing more than a humble servant—but her heart longed for more.

When the shadows began to grow long, Nabrie dressed and collected her laundry in the reed basket and set back to the homestead to make supper. Little did she know that she would never again visit the river.

*      *      *

With no inkling of what was about to happen to her, Nabrie helped Mrs. Gregory roast a lamb for the family’s evening meal. They were sitting down to eat when the sheepdogs’ barking warned of a stranger’s approach. Almost immediately, there came a knock at the door.

Mr. Gregory rose to answer it, then led a guest inside—the most absurd and eccentric creature that Nabrie had ever seen or imagined. He was a lean man, a little shorter than Mr. Gregory, with fire-red hair and a short red beard. He was dressed in forest-green robes that looked like fancy drapery, and his silver eyes shone like beacons.

Dah-hee! Its bin fifteen years since we last seen ye! Mr. Gregory cried nervously.

The stranger replied in an odd, husky voice like surging water, wasting no time on small talk. You know why I am here. You have taken good care of her, and not breathed a word?

To Nabrie’s amazement, Mr. Gregory turned and motioned for her to stand.

Bewildered, she watched the daunting-looking man stride across the kitchen toward her. She had only seen such blind confidence in the strutting young men of the village, in front of a seemly girl. As he stood in front of her and looked into her face, the man’s harsh features softened with a boyish grin—one that made him look absurdly like a chipmunk.

Ah, little Nabrie! You are the very image of your mother, he said. Nabrie could see now that affection filled his silver eyes as he introduced himself: I am Daithi. His red beard puffed all the way up to his cheekbones as he smiled.

Wouldn’t ye share a bite wi’ us, Dah-hee? Mr. Gregory interjected. Roasted a lamb tonight; ye wouldn’t find its like even in royal kitchens.

Daithi turned away from Nabrie, releasing her from the spell of his personality. He became once again a man of stature, businesslike and brusque.

No, thank you, no hospitality is required, he said. After your dinner, send Nabrie out to the front porch—I would speak with her alone. I shall return in the morning and then we will be on our way.

Mrs. Gregory started to protest, but Mr. Gregory silenced her with an urgent wave of his hand.

Of course, he said, nodding subserviently. He bowed low, and the stranger left with a fluid ripple of robes.

Da, who was that? the youngest boy asked, perplexed.

Mr. Gregory only shook his head, and Mrs. Gregory shushed the child. The parents turned their attention to their food. The rest of the family had to stifle their curiosity and do the same.

No one spoke; they only ate. The boys seemed to feel the strangeness of the visitor as much as Nabrie did. Everyone’s eyes questioned Mr. and Mrs. Gregory, but they would not look up.

Nabrie knew that the strange man was still outside the house, waiting for her. What did he want? How did he know her mother? What had he meant by Mr. Gregory not breathing a word?

As soon as the meal was over, Mrs. Gregory shooed her toward the door. Nabrie hesitated, her thoughts racing. Might the man Daithi know both of her parents? She was told that she had been abandoned as a babe upon the Gregorys’ doorstep; she had often wondered who her real parents were. Her life was so confined and narrow that sometimes she thought she would always live here, in this bar-less cage, her dreams of travel turning to dust. Was she really meant to be here?

Perhaps, she thought, this man has some important news about my parents.

She felt in her bones that something was different now. Something deep inside her had stirred with the look from the strange man’s silvery eyes.

Nabrie took a deep breath, opened the door, and stepped out onto the porch. Nothing alarming seemed to be there; Daithi was lounging in the old rocking chair, smoking a carved pipe and watching the evening fields. The trees rustled, whispering in the gentle breeze that lazily dragged a few clouds across the sky. The barnyard smells wafted towards the house, and Nabrie could hear the horses nickering in the distance.

Come here, girl, do not be frightened, he invited.

She approached him with downcast eyes, and sat on a footstool, her hands folded meekly as she waited to hear what he had to say.

Nabrie Kanesha Rosaline, tomorrow is your fifteenth turn of years, Daithi began. I know this because you were brought to me on the night of your birth. I have not seen you since you were a few days old, but now that I look at you, I can see that you have grown to fulfill the Rosaline family name.

Nabrie wondered what that meant. She thought, what’s the Rosaline name? And how might I fulfill it? Her heart began to beat faster.

Now that you are a young woman, it is time for you to learn about the past, Daithi said. For a moment his face creased into a troubled old man, burdened by decades of strife. I must begin my story in times of long ago, in a place that you know nothing of: the Kingdom of Ralshur.

He settled deeper into his chair as he continued:

Ralshur stood above all the other kingdoms, for within its borders dwelled the most powerful magic in the world. This kingdom, Mar, was nothing beside Ralshur. All the Kingdom of Mar could do was trade raw materials—like the crops the Gregorys grow—for wondrous magical objects from Ralshur. Once there were several royal clans that ruled there, and each was connected to a certain region. They had an obligation to justly rule both the humans and magical creatures who dwelled in their territory. The sacred capital city, where the clan leaders gathered, was named Ascendance. Each clan chieftain had two homes: one in his or her state and one in Ascendance—this connected them to their duties of governing the whole kingdom, for the sake of cooperation and strength.

He paused and slowly puffed at his pipe. But that was all long ago; today, only fragments of the powerful ancient kingdom remain. What is left of the states now is weak and divided, and borders no longer exist. The people and beasts who still live there oppose all strangers. There are vast areas of emptiness where no one dwells any longer. The original clans have dwindled to only a few families, and none will lay claim to their former territory. The Rolph family of Clearwater believes the throne is theirs by right, but they will neither fight for it nor take any responsibility for the kingdom’s problems.

Nabrie kept her eyes downcast.

Daithi returned his attention to the sky. Then there is the Rosaline family. Your father, Jacques, was born just before your grandparents were both killed in a peasant rebellion. Jacques was raised by a couple in Dreams Bay who could not have children of their own. But your father was never enlightened—that is, because he was raised from a babe by commoners, they did not pray for him upon the altar of the spirits, so that he would be granted the ancient powers of magic. You see, Nabrie, Daithi said seriously, you come from a long line of magicians. Your bloodline gives you a direct connection to the magic that was once so strong in Ralshur.

Nabrie was stunned by this news. Was this what lay behind her stolen dreams and imaginings? In her books magic was unpredictable, and magicians were evil. What kind of family am I from? she thought. Panicked, she sat frozen and said nothing.

"However, not being a magician made your father Jacques a powerful man, Daithi explained. His natural talents were great; even without the use of magic he was able to amass both wealth and prestige. He built an honest reputation among the commoners of the kingdom and became a powerful lord in his own right. When he fell in love with a Stanhope woman—your mother—he was able to persuade her to wed secretly because she was of a magical lineage. Marrying a known magician would have tarnished Jacques’ reputation. Yet powerful magic was still in his veins, and its dormancy only made the bloodline stronger.

And Kanesha Stanhope was not just a loving woman, she also had extraordinary talents. For one thing, she strove to learn all she could about the world—both the magical world and the common world. He chuckled briefly. That is a trait I assume you have inherited! The books I left in Mrs. Gregory’s parlor have been well-worn. It would be strange for a woman such as Mrs. Gregory, who takes little interest in anything beyond her homestead, to read adventure stories so avidly.

It had never before occurred to Nabrie to ask how the Gregorys could afford so many books that were only read by their servant girl. She frowned at her folded hands and wondered how she had been so naïve.

Daithi peered at her through the dusk, and for the first time seemed to realize how stunned she was by what he had told her.

I dare say you’ve never heard much about magic, have you? he asked. "But magic is not as foreign as the adventure-books convey. It is difficult to describe magic as anything other than energy. It usually takes the form of colored light, and it is far easier to use magic for good than for evil.

I am the only wizard left in Ralshur, he continued gravely. "So on the one hand I am the most powerful wizard of my time—but on the other hand, the duty is a heavy burden to me. I can feel the disintegration of magic in Ralshur. I am not as powerful as my predecessors because the magical energy of the kingdom has lessened greatly.

By contrast, Mar lost all its magic long ago. The kingdom is pleasant, but ignorant. Farmers such as the Gregorys are friendly, but think that I am a wealthy foreigner, nothing more. They have no idea that I could take their lives within a single moment. However, magic is not about taking life, but about giving it—enhancing it, really. All the colors of the rainbow do not even begin to compare with the diverse spectrum of magical energy.

Nabrie was listening avidly, but kept her eyes downcast in respect. She felt overwhelmed by this influx of knowledge.

Daithi tapped his pipe contemplatively against the wooden rocker, gazing at the darkening horizon.

Not all in magic is good, he sighed. "Years ago, there was a girl named Stella who grew up in a loving magical family. She was talented, but her youngest sister was much more skilled. Everyone praised her sister, and that made Stella jealous. Eager to outdo her sister, she went to a witch—Tatiana, the protector of Sanctuary. Tatiana knew both black magic and healing magic, though she practiced only the latter. Stella begged Tatiana to train her in both disciplines. Since Tatiana saw that she had natural talent she agreed, though she cautioned Stella to keep control of the dark spirits when practicing darker spells.

"Stella was far too eager to learn, and she did not heed the warning. The evil spirits welcomed her, consuming her will and her beating heart, until they had full control over her. The witch Tatiana saw this, and refused to teach Stella any of the deepest secrets of her powers.

"Stella became so enraged that she tried to destroy Tatiana and her Sanctuary. Thankfully, the witch was still more powerful than her student; and with her forces of light and dark in balance, she was able to protect herself. She banished Stella from Sanctuary and its land.

"Tatiana thought that Stella would go back to her family, but she did not. Instead, she set her sights on becoming the most powerful magician ever. Her goal was to become the queen. But first, she would have to eliminate her enemies, in order to buy herself enough time to build an army.

"She travelled for a while. Word has it that she went to the now-ruined Temple of Ascendance, where she declared herself Emperor Agrona—as though taking a masculine title would give her more power. Henceforth, Stella was known only as Agrona; and she began the destruction of magicians who would not join her.

"Even fate seemed on her side. That year was a terrible drought, which wreaked havoc on crops and hunting, so the peasants starved. They blamed the magicians and revolted against their rule, and in so doing, they unintentionally aided Agrona. Even Agrona’s own family was not spared: her parents and sisters were brutally murdered. Her brother Peter fled, I know not where to; but I suppose that he passed over the Great Water to the Kingdoms of Enary and Jacinth.

"It was about that time that your parents wed. The Rosalines had suffered the greatest losses from the peasant uprisings, and the Stanhopes were thinning in numbers, too. It was the opportune moment for Agrona to attack them; and your mother, then pregnant with you, was one of her targets.

A few days after you were born, your parents became victims of Agrona. I know this because a stable-hand was peering through the window when he heard a noise. He followed the tracks of the maidservant who brought you to me, and told me all that had happened. Luckily, Agrona did not realize that the bedridden Kanesha had given birth to you prematurely, and had sent you away.

Shock and hurt struck her chest. Nabrie wondered, If this is true, why did Daithi not raise me?

As if reading her mind, Daithi continued, I am sorry that I could not keep you in Ralshur. It is far too dangerous a place. And I would have been an absentee guardian. But before bringing you here, I kept you for a few weeks to Enlighten you. I named you Nabrie, after your father’s mother, and Kanesha, after your mother. Until tonight, did you ever know your full name?

Daithi looked directly into Nabrie’s face. She felt his gaze, and raised her head slightly. His silvery eyes looked soft in the growing moonlight. In the twilight, his red hair no longer clashed with his green robes.

She felt no more fear of him; but how was she supposed to answer? What did you say, when you were told that your entire life had been a lie? Of course Nabrie had never known her true name, she had never known about her parents, and she had never known about magic except what she had read in books. She could find no words, and did not trust her voice to speak. She only shook her head at Daithi; but he seemed to understand her feelings.

I know it was difficult for you not to know who you truly are—but it was for the best, I assure you, he said. Your mother was very dear to me, and she loved you very much. I hope that one day, you will become just like her.

Her mother had been a powerful magician, Nabrie thought—and Daithi had said something about Enlightening her as a baby.

Does that mean I am magical? Nabrie wanted to ask. But she was too timid, and Daithi returned to his story.

"Agrona churned the kingdom into turmoil. She slaughtered magicians like livestock, and despoiled the power of any magical tools she could find. But even for her, ‘The Times of Bloodshed’ were a strain. She underestimated the strength needed to destroy so much good in the world. Eventually she retreated into the mountains. That was about thirteen years ago; and this past winter she was once again spotted, south of the town of Netia, and in good health.

But Ralshur is not in good health. Energy is being sapped from the land and animals; all magicians are feeling a little weaker. The earth is dying, losing its eternal spark of magic. The people of Ralshur live in great fear of what the future must bring.

Daithi stopped speaking and looked up, as though searching among the just-appearing stars for an answer. Apparently, they did not hold one for him.

That is enough for tonight, he declared, standing up. Tomorrow morning, you and I will leave for Ralshur. I need all the help I can acquire in finding ways to stop Agrona from taking over our kingdom. If you even have the slightest spirit of your mother within you—which I feel you do—then you may be powerful enough to change the winds of Agrona’s good fortunes.

Daithi reached into his pocket before placing a tiny wrapped object into her hands.

I have a birthday gift for you. It is a sweet from the eastern shores of Dreams Bay. I hope you enjoy it, it is made of hardened honey and peppermint. Joyful turn of fifteen years, he blessed with a genuine smile.

With that, Daithi walked off into the night. Nabrie gazed after him, her heart full of bewilderment. She had just been told that she could help save an entire kingdom.

What? was Nabrie’s only thought.

*      *      *

When she lay down in her small, straw-stuffed bed, Nabrie could not sleep. Tossing and turning, she recalled times in the past when strange things had happened to her, or around her.

There had been that time, for instance, when she was about five, and had thrown a tantrum—angered by some household task she had to perform. It had been a peaceful autumn morning, with a clear sky when a freak storm blew up. Thunder had cracked across the clouds, and lightning shot towards the ground in sudden bolts. One bolt struck a tree outside the house, setting it on fire. The family was in a panic.

The shock of seeing the tree burn made Nabrie’s fit subside. The thunder and lightning passed away, and were replaced by light rain that fell all afternoon. Nabrie was allowed to join the Gregory boys as they splashed about in the puddles, and had a gleeful game of mud-throwing.

Another time, when she was older, Mrs. Gregory had taken her to the marketplace in the village. Nabrie loved to look at the pretty cloth and knitting materials, but she hated the fat, mean-spirited man who sold them. One day, as she admired a piece of pink satin, he scoffed at her.

Why waste yer time lookin’ at cloth ye cain’t afford? he snarled.

Nabrie grew hot all over with distaste for the man; her hatred seemed like a physical force inside her. She glared at him and wished he would suffer. As he turned away from her, a sudden gigantic wind blew through the air, ripping through his stand and sending his precious fabrics flying into the dirt, or down into the nearby