Shayna

By Austin T. Hildman

After an unexpected enemy tragically outcasts her into the wild, young 7-year-old Shayna must find her way through ice, blood, and tears in order to fight for her survival and discover the truth behind the disappearance of her father and the secrets to the wealthy estate of the city of Hemisturn.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Nov 15, 2013
• ISBN: 9781493102563

Austin T. Hildman

A.T. Hildman is a young student who attends college and writes in his free time. He aspires to obtain a Bachelor’s degree, continue writing and, hopefully, publish more books.

Book preview

Copyright © 2013 by A.T. Hildman.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Rev. Date: 11/13/2013

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

[e-mail]

141457

CONTENTS

Prelude

Fairytales

Hunting

A New Friend

Promises

The Center of The World

Begin Again

Wake Up

Vizagge Novenne (New View)

Excursion, of Our Own Accord

Ideoclause’s Workshop

Everything Good Must—

Luminescence

Happy Festivities

Et Turret Nichtd (The Black Tower)

For that idea in the back of my head.

PRELUDE

The moon shined down on the streets. It illuminated everything, especially the snow, which covered every available piece of what was otherwise grass. The white and yellow streetlights seemed dull and purposeless in comparison, though it made no difference. The distant houses seemed unusually close and the further ones seemed even closer. The night passed on, light snow covering the ground, disguising everything, except for a single man.

He stood beneath a large, trimmed pine tree. The branches were a meter above his head, but lowering as they took on more and more snow. He leaned against the tree, resting his head against its bark. It wasn’t very comfortable, but he hardly noticed it. He was exhausted. Had there been any passerby they would have wondered about his intentions, being there the way he was at that time of night, but there were none. Not a single other, but one.

In the man’s arms rested a child, faint and sleepy. She must have been a year old or less. Her head was pressed against the man’s shoulder, the only part of her body which wasn’t covered by some sort of blanket. Thanks to her father, she was completely oblivious to the snow and cold around her. Her eyes closed quickly and her head fell calmly, taken in by the warmth into a sweet and easy slumber. The night was quiet, but for the rustling of the pine overhead. The snow was falling ceaselessly, but it didn’t appear as if it would quicken. The branches of the pine grew even heavier yet.

The father shivered a little, his teeth chattering for but a moment. He took in a deep, cold breath and let it out. A large cloud of vapors extruded shakily from his lips and he began to cough. Quickly he covered his mouth, holding the child close to his chest and silencing himself. He curled himself up against the bark of the tree, bending over to cough into his elbow. The man coughed for a few moments before finally stopping. When he did he leaned his head once more against the bark of the tree, breathing out in exhaustion. He could barely keep his eyes open.

Suddenly, the pine branches above gave way and the snow tumbled down atop the man and child. The man saw it coming, but was too late to escape it. He ran away from the branches, but in vain, as the snow quickly heaped down on him, freezing him to the bone and awakening his child. Instantly, she began to cry loudly into the open air. Her father had the urge to cover her mouth, but the sense not to. Instead, he brushed off the snow on her head and blanket and rocked her back and forth in an attempt to put her back to sleep. It was a considerate thing to do, but again in vain, as it became apparent to the man that the child would not be falling asleep for a great deal longer. She was much too cold.

The man sighed. The baby still cried softly.

I just don’t know what to do with you, he smiled wearily.

He looked around on the street, yet nothing stirred. The houses were lit up festively, something he was very familiar with around this time of year. Most families had made at least one snowman in their yard and every house was outlined in a fantastic display of lights, the colors of which had no limit in range. The man felt that he should get the child somewhere warmer, but knew better. He had to stay where he was. He had to be patient. His eyes surveyed the street and houses once more and his mind grew doubtful. Perhaps he was making a mistake. Maybe he would fail anyways.

The child grew warmer and, to the man’s surprise, stopped crying. The man sighed again, relieved.

He smiled at her. See? Not so bad . . . just a little snow. He put the child closer to his chest, looking over the streets and houses again. We’ll be alright . . .

Again, had a passerby been present they would have questioned the man as to why he was standing where he was, in the way he was with a child, but there were none. If there had been, the man would have had no answer. The best he would have been able to give them would be a shrug, smile, and a small comment; something like, I’m waiting for something good.

Undoubtedly, the answer would not be received well. Surely the passerby would think him mad or desperate and chalk him off as some lunatic or idiot. The sight of a child in his arms might even prompt them to call in the proper authorities for the job. That is, the job that would, without question, separate him and his daughter from one another forever. That was something he would never allow. But, as it stood, the streets were empty and the night was old. Soon the sun would be up and he would have his chance, if a chance he really did have at all.

His destination was the Hemisturn Central Express, the train that would mask his escape. His chances were maybe decent, but only at best, limited there by the daunting number of security patrols who were not easily seen. They would not be dressed in uniform or patrolling publicly. They would blend into the crowd and make their way through it. If he were caught, they would detain him without his even knowing what had happened. His daughter would be out of his arms in a second’s time and he would be unconscious on the ground. All they would have to do is flash a badge and nobody would dare think of stopping them. Official business, they would say as they took away his crying child. Be on your way.

The man clenched his jaw as he thought of what he had to do. Worry and hope creased the lines on his face, which had grown from few to many in his last few months in Hemisturn. The opportunity was there, however small, and he would take it. Besides, he wasn’t completely alone. He had made some arrangements himself and some friends had been put in place to assist him. With any luck, if he made a mistake, they would not. Still, the man thought of his child and worried. His skill and diligence would near determine all of what would become of her. If he failed, she would be reduced so lowly, he dared not to think of it. If he succeeded, her life would be difficult, but there would be hope. If he could just make it to the train, if he could just get her out, then maybe he could prepare her for what would lie ahead. Her fate was a grand one, the man knew. He had seen it in his dreams. Felt the warmth of it in his chest when all else was dull. With any lucky, and the help of those who were to aid him, they would make it out. They could still have a future together, if only for a little while.

The man could see the sun begin to fold over the horizon. Its rays slipped through the crack between the clouds and distant trees. The sky grew red and restless while the snow fell heavily upon the man and child. In the distance and to the west of the horizon stood Hemisturn. The sun’s rays hit the top of the city, illuminating many of the buildings therein. They were old, most of them. A monstrous black building stood there against the clouds, taller than the rest and looming over all. The man furrowed his brows, setting his gaze upon it. It made him feel afraid, but not just that. It made him angry and beyond any other emotion. Quickly, the man redirected his eyes to the right of it and set his gaze anew upon a large bell tower.

The man took a few moments to look at the bell tower. It was old, but it was not weak. In fact, it was in better shape than it had been for many years. He grinned, an old sense of adventure coming across him, despite the scale at which he was gambling his life, and that of his daughter’s. The sun lifted and radiated his face. He looked down to his child, who was fast asleep, somehow.

However this turns out, he whispered assuredly, you will be safe.

FAIRYTALES

Inside of a cabin, within a forest, in a place very, very far away, there once was a little girl, who lived solely with her father. Her name was Shayna and, indeed, she wasn’t very old at all, though she’d lived with her father her whole entire life and had met no others besides. They lived in a very cold place, a great white tundra where nobody else lived for a tremendously long distance. They were very much alone and completely cut off from the rest of the world. That is, except for the train, which was much closer.

The train, a huge, industrial object made of steel and light, fascinated Shayna. It was the most beautiful, mysterious thing to Shayna’s mind. Many a time she’d fantasize in her head about what the inside was like, conjuring up completely new and foreign worlds which could only exist in the mind of a little girl. She’d ask herself: Who was in there? Were they great big men with mustaches screaming to one another for more fuel to keep the train in motion? Or maybe there was an army of soldiers waiting to be dropped off to their next battle! Even then maybe there were huge snow giants, like the ones her father had read to her about in his books. Maybe there was absolutely nothing but a dot of sand, and maybe that dot of sand was a tiny island, which only a few tiny people could get onto. Perhaps even there were large groups of elves, the exact characteristics of which only Shayna could imagine. They could be throwing tumults from their lips in a joyous upheaval of conversation, all the while creating magical toys and inventing strange mechanisms. There could be anything in it, and Shayna just kept filling and filling it, even making it bigger just to fit the amounts of things she thought of. All of these fantasies, small and large, were dreamt of again and again by the little girl. She thought of them throughout nearly every hour of every day that she wasn’t doing something else or sleeping.

And now it was late on a cold winter night, and inside the cabin a huge fire stirred, flicking lights onto the walls around her. They animated them, making little dancing creatures. Shayna loved to lose herself in the cabin’s walls and come up with great and small adventures that the tiny beings on them could take a place in. She could stare and dream for hours and hours, if it wasn’t for her father, who was much more interesting.

Shayna’s father made his way in from the outside, where he’d been attending to chores that needed doing, but that Shayna was too young to help him do. He didn’t mind though, and entered, smiling happily at her. Why, hello again, my little one! Whatever are you staring at those walls for?

Shayna watched him as he entered. He wasn’t an extremely large man, but of an average, but strong, disposition. He had a large brownish-blonde beard and icy blue eyes, just as Shayna’s eyes were. He wore a bulky fur made from the deerskin of an elk he had killed many years past. He always had a cheery demeanor, sometimes even laughing when there was seemingly nothing to laugh about. He was a funny man, but that was okay with Shayna. She liked him that way.

Shayna quickly went back to staring at the walls again and vividly answered her father. They’re little people, Papa. They’re on a quest!

A quest? her father inquired, always interested in hearing what his daughter had brought about in reminiscing through her thoughts. What do these little ones plan to do?

Shayna watched the wall a moment longer and thought to herself before answering. They’re going to go slay a dragon! They’re almost at the castle, but first they need to save the captured princess or the dragon will eat her!

Haha! her father laughed. "Oh, my! Little one, that sounds absolutely dreadful. It appears you’ve remembered the stories I’ve read you. Well, I advise they do it quickly, else I won’t have time to tell you a very new and more interesting story!"

Shayna ceased her staring and asked, You have an interesting story to tell?

Why yes! her father beamed. When have I ever never had an interesting story to tell, little one? Ha! I bet you couldn’t name a time!

Bet I could! giggled Shayna.

Oh, really now? her father questioned, leaning down in front of her. Well then, go on. Tell me one time!

Shayna looked ‘round, the blonde curls on the end of her hair bobbing up and down as she turned. She tried to think of a time, but couldn’t. Alright, Papa.

Haha! I’m sorry, little one. I couldn’t quite hear you.

I said alright, Papa! You heard me!

Oh, you’re very smart, Shayna. I can’t fool you anymore now can I? He grinned. I bet you could even tell me in Nortish by now!

Smoot! said Shayna yes joyously, expounding with delight. She loved to speak the word.

That is good, my little one! Now, would you like to hear my story?

Yes! said Shayna.

Well alright then! Just let me . . . Shayna’s father walked to the corner of the cabin and picked up one of his books, opening it up gently with his fingertips. He walked over from the large, wooden bookcase from which he’d retrieved it and sat down on his large wooden rocking chair. He crossed his legs, which was his custom, and held up the book to Shayna, showing her the cover.

Little Lively Pink Cheeks! exclaimed her father. The Patch of Darkness.

The cover showed a small girl with bright pink cheeks looking up to the sky with a sign of worry on her face. She wore all white winter clothing and was surrounded by four others who looked similar, three boys and one girl. What they were all looking at was a huge cloud of darkness that loomed overhead, creeping down from atop a mountain, making its way towards them.

What is it that black thing? asked Shayna.

Patience, responded her father. We’ll get to that very soon, promise.

Shayna waited for him as he began opening the cover.

Ah, little one! Now, here we are! her father said, attempting to open up the book. Oh, pesky pages! I’ll just . . . He licked his fingers and continued his work at turning the book’s first blank page. "Okay. Now, here we are! I think you will love this one. Shall I read it to you Ot Et Norticine tonight, since you’re getting so good?"

The Language of The North, or Nortish, was the unofficially established language of Nortisha, the wintry land where her father and she lived. It was a magnificent sounding language and Shayna loved to listen to her father speak it and teach her how, but she wanted something better.

Ne! said Shayna no in her first language, the language in which her and her father had spoken before he had taught her Nortish. I want Frepi!

Oh! said her father, who was surprised and had been hoping to teach to her more in Norticine. You know you would do just fine in Nortish, little one! You are as fluent as anybody. Are you sure?

Yes, I’m sure! Read it in our home language, that’s my favorite!

Her father grinned happily. "Well, of course. Of course, my girl! It is also my favorite! Well then let us begin . . ." He reached his right hand over to a small table that was next to his rocking chair and grabbed his reading glasses, which had been balanced atop two other, much larger books Shayna had seen that he’d been reading personally. He settled them on the crest of his somewhat crooked nose and, squinting to read, began.

Little Lively Pink Cheeks! She was a normal little girl, who strangely enough, though not to her dismay, had very rosy cheeks.

Like me? asked Shayna.

Why, yes! Quite like you, actually, said her father with a laugh. Little Pink, which was what her friends Rodgy, Westinne, Peneloppe, and Derekke called her, adored to play outside, especially with all four of her friends! She just couldn’t get enough of it. Every morning she went out and started her day by playing a game of Shade and Light with them all.

Her father paused to turn a page, licking the tips of his fingers once more.

What is Shade and Light, Papa? asked Shayna eagerly in between pages.

Shade and Light, my girl? It is a game played behind a ginormous mountain! he said making a huge sweeping motion with his free arm, which can only be played in the morning right when the sun comes up.

Well . . . why can’t you play it any other time? asked Shayna.

Well, that’s because there is no shade! explained her father. You see, when the sun comes up in the morning on one side of a mountain, its light begins to hit the mountain and once it reaches the right angle in regard to the mountain’s peak, it creates a shadow!

Just like mine in the morning, Papa!

Why, yes. It is exactly like yours, except much, much bigger. In fact . . . her father trailed off, speaking factually about a large, foreign and far away mountain that Shayna had never heard of. She didn’t care to listen and waited rather impatiently.

Mmhm . . . , murmured Shayna on various occasions of interest her father would point out. Mhhmmm . . .

Yes, quite right! said her father, noticing her impatience. Well, anyways, the game is played in the shadow until there is only one player remaining, or until the sun becomes too high over the mountain and the shadow disappears.

But how do you play, Papa? asked Shayna, anticipating her father to go on a long explanation.

Haha, well that, little one, is the fun part of the game! You just . . . he rocked forward closer to Shayna, who was sitting up, and nudged her over. Do that!

Shayna fell backwards onto her back, while her father nearly fell over himself laughing. She hadn’t expected him to do that.

Hey! You pushed me! said Shayna in a pouting way.

Yes, little one! That’s how you play the game! You have to push the other players out of the shadow and into the light!

Shayna jumped up to her feet and, charging forward as fast as she could muster, ran at her father, who she was attempting to make fall over, but who she couldn’t seem to even budge. She bounced off of him and tumbled to the floor, sprawled out and just a bit annoyed. She wanted to push him back.

Woah, little one! Hahaha, you’re getting very strong! Perhaps if we find a mountain sometime we can try playing that game together.

Yes! said Shayna, eager for another chance to knock her father over.

"Maybe if he’s standing up . . . ," she thought quietly to herself before speaking aloud. Let’s find one tomorrow and play it!

Oh, I’m not sure about tomorrow, little one. Sit down and listen to the rest of the story. One day we’ll play it.

Promise? asked Shayna.

Of course, Shayna. Her father smiled at her.

Okay . . . , said Shayna. Keep reading, please.

Well, you’re just a little leader, aren’t you? Just like your father, giving out instructions, probably too much! Okay, now . . . he moved his finger to the top of the page, beginning anew.

They would play it for hours, Shade and Light, until finally there was only one remaining, even though all of them had usually been pushed out at least once before the end of the game. They didn’t mind much if anyone wanted to come back in without the game ending. They just wanted to keep playing.

Her father flipped another page and continued, But Derekke was, undoubtedly, the best at Shade and Light. Everyone agreed upon it, even Rodgy, who hardly wanted to. Eventually, they stopped, though not because they’d wanted to, but rather because of the matter of time. When the shadow had disappeared or Little Pink’s mother, who was a parent, like me, added her father, called them to the inside of her cabin they would have to leave.

He licked his fingers and turned the page again. He started reading, but stopped when he noticed Shayna’s curious gaze, which wasn’t at all out of the ordinary. It was just . . . she was quiet, which still wasn’t unusual for her. It was just that she looked different. To her father, she was looking older. She just gazed, silently thinking. Her father had a hunch about what she could be pondering.

Papa? asked Shayna.

There was a rather long pause before her father answered. He anticipated her question and was hoping to find a good answer before he answered it. He thought and thought, though he knew there was no good answer. She’d asked the question before, but it’d been many years ago when she was even younger than she was then. Her father had answered her calmly and with great care, as he would once more.

With a sigh, he asked, yes, little one? What is your question?

Um . . . she started hesitantly. Never mind. She looked away, wondering whether or not she should ask.

What is it, little one? It’s not like you to be shy. I’m your father, you can tell me anything you want. he smiled reassuringly.

It might make you sad.

Her father sat expectantly and said kindly, Shayna, you won’t upset me. Promise! You can go ahead and ask me what you want.

Well . . . okay. She waited for a moment. Um . . . Well . . . Do I have a mother too?

Her father sighed, not surprised to hear her asking him about her mother, but mustered what he could of a reassuring smile. It was what he had anticipated. He set down the book on the small table to his right and beckoned Shayna to come to him. She did and sat in his lap, his arms wrapped around her. You have me, little one. And we have each other. That is the most important thing. When you’re older you will learn, but please be patient with me, child. He smiled reassuringly once