Ria's Mark (Guardians of The Path book 2)

By Nicole DragonBeck

A person's Mark is the window to their soul.

But some windows should remain closed.

The Guardians are outnumbered, racing against the clock to save magyc and Demona.

New friends rally, while old foes draw ever closer.

Secrets are revealed, but the mystery grows deeper.

Will Ria choose to stay with the Guardians...

...or will she follow the Sorcerer on his path?

You’ll love the second installment of this epic fantasy adventure, because every person - great and small - has a part to play in the fate of the world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nicole DragonBeck
• Release date: Apr 12, 2021
• ISBN: 9781943121151

Nicole DragonBeck

Nicole DragonBeck was born in California one snowy summer long ago, the illegitimate offspring of an elf and a troll. At a young age her powers exploded and she was banished to the wilderness of South Africa because her spells kept going inexplicably awry. There she was raised by a tribe of pygmy Dragons and had tremendous adventures, including defeating a terrible Fire-Demon that had been tormenting a sect of Dwarf priests. In gratitude they taught her the arcane magic of writing and the rest is horribly misinterpreted history. She reads as much as she writes, is obsessed with dragons and Italians, enjoys cooking, listening to music and can often be heard fiddling on a keyboard or guitar.

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Ria's Mark, Guardians of the Path is a fictional work. The characters, places and events portrayed in this book are from the imagination of the author or are used fictitiously. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for the author or any third party websites or publications or their content.

Copyright © 2016 by Nicole DragonBeck

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means whatsoever without the prior written permission of the author or publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Cover image: © Elena Schweitzer | Dreamstime.com - Fantasy tree house

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To my parents, for nurturing my love of reading, writing, and the dragon inside me.

Acknowledgements

Believe it or not, this is one of the hardest parts of writing a book for me, yet one of my favorite parts as well. It's a fun little shout-out to the really cool people who helped make this world more awesome.

Firstly, I would like to thank Desi Matlock. This really should have gone into the first book, and would have been more appropriate there, but I'm afraid I didn't find out about this until I had already published, so it goes here. Desi was key in getting the transcription of my little song into a digital format that could be put on the back of my books. If not for her, that awesomeness wouldn't be nearly as awesome. So a very big albeit slightly tardy thanks goes to her.

To the intrepid Ink Slingers Guild: you guys are truly magnificent, and embody the spirit requisite to carry the ring to Mount Doom, destroy the Death Star, defeating He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and other such important historical events that preserved peace and goodness in the world.

To the amazing people at Witching Hour Publishing for helping me realize this dream. Lisa: someone described her as classic cool. I second that motion; Court: the person who pulls me through the perfecting of my book with my sanity intact and me in one piece. Erika: if you look up kind of a big deal in any dictionary, you'll find her picture. If you don't, you're using the wrong dictionary. Rhi: one of my favorite people in this whole universe, and several other universes, who inspires me to further greatness on a frequent basis.

To my family, I'm pretty sure you're aware of how awesome you are, but it can't hurt to say it again (here's lookin' at you Matthew). To my mom and dad for the continual support; to Danielle for being willing to be my unofficial PR person/cheerleader; to Andrew for inspiration and aggravation, though he still won't accept goblins can be good.

To my mentors and my muses, one can never have too many of either of those.

To Brooks, Tolkien, Gaiman, Salvatore, King, Jaques, Paolini, Rothfuss, Rowling, Lewis, Pullmen, Goodkind, Pratchett, Butcher, Lawhead, Martin, and everyone else who took me to other worlds with their words and inspired me to let others into my worlds.

To all my friends, who support and encourage me in my writing endeavors, and other endeavors as well; to those who bought and/or read the first book. By the way, those of you who did so should hang on to those books because the back cover was changed, which means the first edition is going to be a collector's item worth a gazillion dollars fairly soon - you're welcome.

A special thanks goes out to those people who told me they loved the first book and wanted to read the second immediately, so much so that I became terrified of not living up to expectations with the second, which (I hope) caused me to write a better book. I love you guys.

And finally to everyone who got this book. I'm truly excited to be able to be doing what I do, I am glad you are along for the ride, and I hope you enjoy this next installment of the story of Ria and the Guardians of the Path.  

Historiographer's Note

The legend of Cedar Rün, the First Guardian (not to be confused with Cedar Jal, Guardian of the Present Span), has many versions depending upon who does the telling. Throughout the ages, people have speculated, theorized, and passed on stories of the man and his deeds. Many of these are a sea of fantasy with few grains of fact amongst the hyperbole.

Some hundred years ago, a select team of Demonan, Ghoris, and Nyican historians with ties to the Guardians compiled the following account. It is a compilation of letters the Witch, V'Ronica of Lii, wrote to the Coven, memoirs of Camore Rün and Sinora Rün (nee In'Orain), and pictographs on the walls of the Guardians' Hall in the Crescent Temple. It is the most complete and verified of any in existence.

Currently, it is kept by the High Elves in Carallión, placed alongside the accounts of Dymitri Spyne, the Sorcerer, the Builders of the Crescent Temple, and the eight-volume History of the Races on the Gilded Shelves of the Tyomewaerr (Elvish library, lit. receptacle of tales).

The Amber Torch

Cedar Rün woke as he had each time before and grimaced at the sight that greeted his tired eyes, an unexciting whiteness devoid of all perspective and feature. He sighed and debated whether it was simply wiser to close his eyes again and go back to the state that was sleep and yet not sleep. At least then I can dream.

There was no way to keep track of time in this flat and empty place. Perhaps time did not even exist. Cedar lay back and closed his eyes. In his mind, he tried to go back to before, but the memory was getting dimmer. He hardly remembered the feel of the thing the elves called the Path, the honey glow that surrounded and caressed everything with its warm light. Straining, he tried again to recapture the memory of something other than this place.

Just as Cedar began to feel he could reach out and touch the little sliver of tree-studded world he had managed to create, his head exploded in pain. He never thought he would be so glad to hurt so much and his eyes opened a crack of their own accord. A pyramid of green and black grew up in front of him. The Demon stepped out of it, its casual movement sinister as a taloned foot lit on the ground like a hawk diving with dispassionate hunger upon a rabbit.

Adrenaline coursed through Cedar as he watched through slitted eyes, determined not to give the Demon the satisfaction of a reaction.

Cedar Rün of Hahlvetia, the Demon growled, its mouth too full of teeth to properly form the sounds of the language.

Cedar opened one eye and looked surprised. Oh, it's you. Why don't you close the door?

With an impatient wave of a taloned paw, the flames disappeared.

Don't you get tired of that trick? Cedar asked, leaning his head back and closing his eyes once more. How many times now? A hundred? A thousand? More?

Your numbers mean nothing to me, the Demon said.

Cedar could hear its footsteps as it stalked towards him, but he carefully kept his eyes closed and his face slack even when the Demon grabbed him and hauled him to his feet.

How are you enjoying your stay? the Demon said, breathing hot breath into Cedar's face.

Cedar coughed and the Demon laughed. I see someone has been trying to teach you some manners, Cedar said. If you must know, it could use a little color.

Like red? the Demon said, clicking its curved talons on its chest plate. Blood red?

Cedar refused to rise to the bait. He shrugged. Whatever you like. It's your place after all.

The Demon glared. It is not my place! This place is just for you, to teach you a lesson.

Well, what can I say? I must not be very bright, Cedar said as he sat down again and closed his eyes. Call me when you come up with a better method of education.

It is interesting that you say that, for I have just had one presented to me.

Despite his resolve, Cedar's insides turned to icy sludge, the cold seeping into his limbs. Though he had no idea how long he had been here, Cedar Rün was well aware of how often the Demons had come, how many ways they could devise to bring pain, corporeal and otherwise.

Cedar opened his eyes and looked up at the Demon, staring silently into its red eyes. He took a deep breath and then offered an insouciant grin. Raising his eyebrow, he said, So what are you waiting for?

The green-edged flames stretched upward, beckoning them forward.

The air felt thick and abrasive against Cedar's skin and eyes. Rubbing his watering eyes, Cedar tried to make out the blurry shapes in front of him. Smoke from the fiery doorway tickled his nose and made it run. He coughed and choked, stumbling away from the Demon. After a moment, his various orifices cleared and he looked around. It was reminiscent of the place he'd imagined moments before, though devoid of trees. Cedar didn't think Demons could read minds, but this gave him an uncomfortable pause.

What is this? he asked.

The plains stretched away to the horizon. A city rose out of the green like a white stone rose, gleaming against the blue sky.

What do you think it is?

Cedar swallowed. "Is...is that...Torin?"

The Demon did not answer and instead stalked forward. Cedar refused to move, knowing that somewhere in this was a plan for terrible torture. Cedar wiped his mind blank and turned his heart to stone, knowing that whatever the Demon did would hurt like liquid flame no matter how much he prepared himself, but at least it wouldn't show as much.

So this is Hahlvetia? Cedar said, hurrying after the Demon. Or is this one of your jokes?

Not a joke, the Demon said.

Cedar finally gave the Demon his full attention. It was taller than a man, black as night with growing red eyes. Its shoulders hunched around its long-snouted head, and wicked spikes with barbed tips protruded like an awkward upturned collar. One of the Nine. But which?

The Nine Demons who had claimed Hahlvetia and become gods each had names and distinctive features to distinguish them, though Cedar suspected they may look different in their Void.

Stone had a scar across the shoulder which Cedar had given him before he was captured. Bone had a tail, sometimes whip-like and sometimes clubbed, and Air had protruding shoulder blades, as though he had tried to grow wings and failed. Fire had curving horns, and Blood had uneven spines down its back. Ice was paler than the rest, and nondescript otherwise. Shadow had blue eyes. That left Metal or Water.

Water, Cedar decided. I don't recall that Metal had barbs. But why did it bring me here? Where are its brothers?

What is going on?

Surely you must know, the Demon said, turning back to face him.

When Cedar said nothing, the Demon stretched out its angular arms and scratched the back of its neck. "This is a day that must be celebrated. It has been One Year since we made you that Void." The odd emphasis the Demon gave the words made Cedar tense, expecting something to come flying at him, but nothing happened.

Cedar frowned in confusion. I don't understand. It has only been a year?

So they tell me, Cedar Rün, the Demon said.

"So who tells you?" Cedar pressed.

The three who came to find me, the Demon said. Very foolish of them.

Cedar! three voices chorused, strained joy making it through the underlying fear in their tones.

Cedar turned and fainted.

The world became clear with a suddenness that left Cedar without breath, and he sat bolt upright, looking around in bewilderment. The first thing he saw was the Demon. The next thing he saw were the three women, standing close together as though trying to avoid losing heat on a cold night. His mind withheld certainty of their identity lest he blinked and they disappeared. Cedar blinked, but they remained in front of him. His heart forgot it was supposed to be made of stone and began to patter erratically in his chest.

What are they doing here? Cedar asked, staggering to his feet, reeling as he peered past the Demon, still trying to disbelieve his eyes.

They wished to visit you, the Demon said in a voice that was all flame and coal.

Cedar's heart sank when he beheld the three looking at him timidly. One gave him a small wave. He glared at the Demon. Let them be. You have me. You have no need of them.

A harsh rumble from deep within the Demon sent shivers down Cedar's back and his fingers itched to tear whatever heart the thing had from its body.

You spoke truly saying you were not very bright, the Demon told him. It is time for you to learn your lesson...

No, Cedar said through gritted teeth. No, you mustn't do this.

He began to move forward, reaching for the warmth he remembered. Startled to find only cold, he faltered. It...it cannot be! Hahlvetia cannot be dead. Dead, dead, dead, began to chant in his head. Tears stung his eyes, wetting his cheeks and blurring his vision. The Demon hissed with pleasure.

Then the Demon staggered, half-turning with a startled grunt. One of the women was crouched down, her hand flung out, eyes fixed on the Demon. The glint of a knife drew Cedar's attention to the Demon's shoulder. What in the world...

A moment later, the second woman was throwing something as well, a dark blue cloud that shot true as an arrow to the Demon's head. The Demon began to thrash, beating at the swirling mist. The third woman dashed forward and grabbed Cedar's arm. Her face blurred through his tears. Confused, he tried to jerk away.

Don't worry, she told him, not letting him go. It's part of the plan.

The Demon howled, trying to rid itself of the blue mist that clung stubbornly to its body, tearing at it with its claws, but the blue simply settled back into place.

Cedar and the woman ducked a flailing limb and joined the other two.

We must hurry, the one who had thrown the mist said. It will not hold for long.

What are you doing here? Cedar said, dredging the owner of the sharp voice from forgotten memory. What...

Everything will become clear, but we don't have time for explanations now, the mist-thrower snapped. Take my hand!

She held her hand out. There was a scar on her hand, a series of loops like a three-petaled flower. It was familiar, burned into his mind just as it was burned into her hand. Cedar did as she bid without thinking, grabbing the woman's cool hand. His other was clasped by a much warmer hand.

Now! one of the women shouted.

Cedar's insides froze. His heart literally stopped beating and his lungs would not contract or expand no matter how hard he tried.

Hold still! someone hissed into his ear. This is not easy and you're not helping!

Cedar stopped fighting, and allowed himself to be pulled down into blackness, becoming still as though he were carved in stone. He tried to close his eyes, but he had lost control of them too. He hoped this would be over soon and that he didn't die in the process. Then something grabbed his leg. His head arched backwards as he let out a bloodcurdling scream of pain. My leg!

The two hands holding his tightened their grasp but Cedar felt himself slipping away, the pain in his leg increasing as the Demon dug its claws deeper, pulling him. Just as Cedar was about give up and allow the Demon to pull him back, a fresh breeze cooled his temple, whispering softly to him in a long-forgotten language. Though he did not quite understand the musical words, he understood the meaning and a waterfall of hope rushed through him.

It gave him strength to kick his leg out at the Demon. Cedar was rewarded with a burning pain as the talons raked down his shin, his own blood warm on his leg. With the effort of lifting a hundred men, Cedar jerked his leg once more and felt his flesh shred as the Demon lost its grip.

Jolted fiercely backwards, Cedar sank into the icy breath of a winter wind that pulled at his body and dragged him along without mercy until all he could feel was pressure, and one cold hand and one warm in each of his.

Cedar's leg was being consumed by fire, burning midway up his thigh. Someone was pouring acid onto it when he came to, yelping and thrashing to make them stop.

Hold still, an unsympathetic voice said. This will help, if you let me actually get some of it onto the wound.

Cedar bit his lip, balled his hands into fists and allowed the torture to continue. True to the words of the torturer, the pain slowly subsided to a faint throb and Cedar opened his eyes, steeling himself for whatever might be there.

He was in the back of a small cave. Faint light flowed in from the mouth, and he glimpsed a pale grey sky. From outside came the sounds of water and soft voices. A fire burned in a crude hearth nearby, smokeless and bright as a fallen star. A woman knelt over Cedar, a curtain of black hair hiding her face as she worked. Cedar propped himself up on his elbows, grunting in pain, and the woman paused.

Will you stop moving and let me do my work?

The sound of the voice was almost as painful as his leg, but the compunction to ignore it was as strong today as it had been however long ago. Cedar craned his head to the side so he could take a look at his leg.

It was not as bad as he had imagined. The flesh was torn and inflamed, purple veins writhing under his skin like snakes, but his leg was in one piece and the angry red color was draining as the potion did its work.

What is that? Cedar croaked.

An infusion of willow, comfrey, and Everbræth, the woman said from behind her hair, the quick, efficient movements of her hands pulling the pain away. Now lie still.

Cedar watched as she wrapped his leg in cool strips of cloth soaked in something thick and yellow.

Where am I? he said.

The Mountains, the woman said.

In Hahlvetia?

No, in Death's Realm, she snapped. Please let me work.

How did I get here?

The woman blew her hair from her eyes in an inpatient huff. Sinora! Camore! He's awake and annoying me and I might let him die if you don't come and rescue him.

Cedar felt his throat constrict as the voices from outside fell silent. He turned his eyes to the mouth of the cave. After a moment, the other two women entered. Cedar's heart began to beat overtime in his chest and he blinked, still afraid he was hallucinating or it was some Demon-devised torture.

First his eyes met purple ones, a delicate shade of blue-violet Cedar had always adored. Sinora In'Orain smiled and it made him ache. He wanted to reach out to her, kiss her and hold her close, but part of him was not ready to trust that she was real.

Next he met soft brown eyes, darker than Cedar's gold but the same shade, that looked with uncertain adoration at him. His little sister had been only seventeen years old the last time Cedar had seen her and this woman was in her late-twenties, but there was not a doubt it was indeed Camore. Glinting at the hollow of her throat was the gold-and-tigers-eye pendant, the only thing left of their parents.

Last, Cedar turned to the woman next to him, a woman with silver eyes, sharper than a blade and twice as cold. V'Ronica of Lii was the same sultry, dark-haired beauty as the last time Cedar had set eyes on her. He winced as he remembered the encounter had not gone well, ending with her knife at his throat and his knife at her side, glaring at each other in a silent battle of wills. He had won, and that had not sat well with the Witch.

Is this real? Cedar whispered. It's...it's not possible.

Sinora and Camore looked confused and glanced at V'Ronica for direction.

He thinks he's hallucinating, the Witch said, her voice as sympathetic as a frozen boulder.

Relief flooded the two women's faces. Camore spoke. It is real, Cedar. We rescued you.

I don't believe this, Cedar said, taking a deep breath of the rich air of Hahlvetia, air his lungs had forgotten after being trapped in the Demon Void for so long. I don't know what to say.

How about 'hello'? Sinora said, her hands twisting nervously at her breast.

"I still can't...is it really you? Cedar whispered, his hand reaching out to her. If this is a Demon trick..."

Sinora knelt by his side, taking his hand. No, it's really me. Cami is here as well.

Hearing his sister's childhood nickname brought a smile to Cedar's face. As Camore took his other hand, the tears came as his self-inflicted heart of stone melted, tears the Void had taken and dried up with a slow suffocating pressure, spilling over as he buried his face in their sweet-smelling hair. Pulling away, he looked at them.

How did you find me? How...

It was V'Ronica, Camore looked at the woman who now stood apart, arms crossed and a hard expression on her face. She planned the whole thing.

It wasn't hard, V'Ronica said, turning away. Demons do not understand time as it passes in Demona or other worlds. I simply told them one year had passed and that anniversaries are significant in Demona.

Where? Cedar said.

V'Ronica turned to face him, spreading her arms. Welcome to Demona.

Cedar looked to Camore and Sinora for clarification.

After you left, the name changed, Sinora said. This is Demona now.

Cedar didn't know if he could accept that, but he would deal with it later. He swallowed and tried to concentrate on what V'Ronica had said.

It can't have been a year, Cedar said, glancing at his sister Camore, now a young woman, much more mature than the girl he had last seen.

No. It's been more than nine years, Sinora said, stoking his hand. But the Demon would have no way of knowing that.

And so it just decided to let me out? Cedar said.

Not quite, a slight smile twitched at the corner of V'Ronica's mouth. I told it that seeing Demona for a while would be an appropriate way to celebrate and would cause you great distress and pain, to see your home for a very brief moment and then have it taken away. After that, the Demon was delighted to do exactly as I said.

And how did you spirit us away? Cedar said. It was like being pulled through frozen stone.

V'Ronica lifted her chin and gazed at him in haughty disdain. Just because I risked my life to pull you from the Void, I wouldn't share my secrets with you if you were the last person alive.

The incongruous statement was typical of the Witch. Right, Cedar said. I should have remembered.

A thought occurred to him and he looked back at the Witch suspiciously. Wait a moment. If it's true you are the one who organized the escape, why did you do it? What did you rescue me for? These two I can believe did it for love, but you?

We'll talk about that later, V'Ronica said, turning away. We should eat something and you should sleep. You need to rest in order to heal.

Cedar looked at V'Ronica of Lii. She was still beautiful, but she looked much older. Not all of it was in the lines that creased her face, lines which had not been there before. Her silver eyes were tired and there was a weight that bowed her slim shoulders.

The Witch would not tell him what she had done or how, but Cedar could guess. Along with the herblore and medicine, which Cedar respected, and the divination and fortune telling, which Cedar did not, the Witches of Lii possessed a unique skill he did not quite understand.

A unique magyc, Cedar corrected.

The magyc of the Coven of Witches of Lii was the magyc of shifting energy and force, of moving it from object to object, person to person or place to place, or any combination thereof. With this, they had the unique ability to travel into, out of, and between worlds.

In the old days, it took a long time, half a hundred or more years, to gather the knowledge and attain the required proficiency to be ordained as a Witch of Lii and trade the white robes for black. It gave rise to the stereotypical image of a Witch as a woman with grey hair, bent with age in billowy black robes, though Cedar had found the warts and single remaining tooth to be the product of children's imaginations.

Most of the old women were teachers who passed on the distilled wisdom to the chosen young women of the Coven. A vast contrast to the slim woman in white tending to Cedar now, but V'Ronica could not be far from being a fully ordained Witch, which made her a very dangerous foe.

And Cedar had no idea what she wanted with him.

The sun rose early the next morning, bathing the world in brightness. The light crept into the cave and woke Cedar with a gentle touch. He was lying on blankets on a shelf of stone which made a surprisingly comfortable bed. His eyes fluttered open and he gazed at his surroundings, thinking he was caught in a dream. A stirring drew his gaze, and he found Sinora and Camore sleeping nearby on a bed of rushes.

Moving gingerly, Cedar sat up and swung his legs over the side of the stone. His leg had returned to its normal size and the color was improving. He pressed it against the floor, testing its reaction to pressure. Pain came, but it was bearable, and he attempted to stand.

You should not be trying to walk just yet, a displeased voice told him. The wound has only begun to mend. You should wait at least a day or two.

You, Cedar said, effort making his voice breathy as he pulled himself upright, are not my mother.

A blessing on you, for I would have left you for the wolves the moment you left my womb, V'Ronica commented. I still say you should not be walking.

Cedar bit his tongue and concentrated on slowly evening the weight on his legs. V'Ronica crossed her arms and refused to help him. This irked Cedar, and he stepped forward before he was ready. He stumbled, and would have fallen, but the Witch caught him and kept him on his feet.

Where am I supposed to relieve myself? he asked, jerking out of her grasp.

I have a pan...

I am not a complete invalid, Cedar said.

She sighed. There is a latrine outside.

She moved to take his arm again, but Cedar shied from her and used the shelf of stone and the uneven wall of the cave to pull himself along instead, refusing to look at V'Ronica. She clenched her teeth but did not interfere. She nudged the other two girls with her foot to wake them.

Our invalid is up and about. I think he could use a hand in relieving himself.

The Witch turned