Lost and Found

By Maya Elle Russell

She closed her eyes. This would be the most dangerous thing she had ever done.
“Are you ready, Callin?”
Callin opened her eyes and looked straight at Lord Almor.
“I am ready.”

Callin, a fourteen year old girl who is apprenticed to the head hunter of the Aaren clàn, has lived a simple and ordinary life. But everything changes when a sudden war no one is prepared for looms on the horizon, and she is given a mission: track the ruthless and savage creatures called bogwarts, and find out what their part plays in the war. On the way she makes friends and foes, and finds much darker creatures than bogwarts waiting for her among the trees. When she makes a startling discovery, she is forced to choose: continue with the task her clàn trusted her with, or risk her and newfound friend’s lives to try and do the impossible, and give her their side in the war a fighting chance? And who will pay the price for her decision?

This is the story of a girl who decided to dare Fate.
This is the story of those who are lost and found.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Maya Elle Russell
• Release date: Feb 14, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005533861

Book preview

LOST AND FOUND

Copyright © 2021 Maya Elle Russell

Published by Maya Elle Russell publishing at Smashwords

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 any information storage or retrieval system without permission from the copyright holder.

The Author has made every effort to trace and acknowledge sources/resources/individuals. In the event that any images/information have been incorrectly attributed or credited, the Author will be pleased to rectify these omissions at the earliest opportunity.

Published by Maya Elle Russell using Reach Publishers’ services,

P O Box 1384, Wandsbeck, South Africa, 3631

Cover designed by Tori Mitchell

Website: www.reachpublishers.co.za

E-mail: [e-mail]

This book is dedicated to Dad.

Without you, I would never have finished my story.

Acknowledgments

I owe so much to the following people. I’m incredibly lucky to know you all.

To mum and dad, to whom I owe everything. I don’t know what I would do without you. To Aerin, my sister and the first person to hear this story, thank you for believing in my writing and for your eagerness to hear the next chapter.

To Dale, my aunt and editor, thank you for everything. My book would not be what it is without you.

To Tori, my cousin and illustrator, thank you for the beautiful cover, the ceaseless enthusiasm, and for introducing me to Monument Valley.

Of course, to the rest of my family, my aunts, my uncles, grandparents and cousins. Thank you for your endless support. I love you all.

To all my friends, for the smiles and hugs and laughter. You’re all some of the kindest and most amazing people I know. Without you all, Callin would have never found such good friends.

To Nicole Wright and Sharon Hall, my grade four and grade six teachers, for believing me from early on. You are amazing teachers.

To J.K. Rowling, Rick Riordan, Erin Morgenstern and many other authors. Thank you for inspiring me with your stories.

Table of Contents

Acknowledgments

Silence

In a Dark, Quiet Castle

A Sudden Quest

Introducing Faith and Ro

The Blue Fox

And Forth They Go

Smoking Boggart

The Quartz Slate

The Lake

Rescue

With the Elves

The Second Surprise

A Dragon

The First Hunt

The Dragon Warriors

Challas Brook

A Well Planned Trap

A Dagger Finds its Mark

Cuimhneastrum

Forgotten Memories

The Castle and Two Armies

Found

Seven months later

Chapter 1

Silence

It was a dark, eerie night in Stray Forest.

This in itself was not strange. It was a forest with a fearsome reputation, with bogwarts and werewolves and towering trees and dark shadows, and many went to great lengths to avoid it, save the Aaren Clàn, who lived in its heart.

But it was a lively forest, with rushing waterfalls and bounding deer and hares, and the howl of the werewolves at night. So, you could imagine that many felt perturbed by the dark and menacing silence that crept over the forest. It was cold and absolute, and even the River Narlien seemed to gurgle and gush with less sound. The bullfrogs did not croak, nor did the crickets chirp, as if the night was a dark blanket, smothering everything. The moon hid behind the clouds, reluctant to come out and bathe everything in its silver light.

The silence was one of the first signs that evil was stirring, but the Clàn had yet to realise it.

Callin charged through the forest, breaking the silence.

She had been hunting rabbits when a loud rumble announced the arrival of her least favourite thing, so she had immediately made haste to flee the rumbling, shooting the occasional arrow into the trees behind her as the forest floor churned in pursuit.

Finally, the first of the bogwarts made it through the soil, covered in mud.

They had small, wrinkled and mushed-up faces. They had black, beady eyes and large snarling mouths. Their skin was an unpleasant grey, and they had unusually large hands, ideal for digging. Their culture, a sick, twisted thing, involved tearing down trees, as they believed that their gods, the Gulhein, dwelled under the ground, and that the roots of trees had trapped and ensnared them. As the Aaren Clàn strove to protect the forest, the bogwarts had come to hate them and curse their name.

And Callin, apprentice to the head hunter of the Aaren Clàn, had chased a rabbit right into their territory.

As the bogwarts poured out of the ground, Callin hurriedly reached for more arrows, well aware that they were running out far too quickly.

Suddenly the rumbling increased a hundredfold.

Varken, this way, boy! Callin whispered anxiously to her steed, leading him behind a thicket of brambles that obscured them from view.

Only moments after Callin had ducked behind the brambles, a gigantic bogwart, the size of a silver birch tree, came tearing out of the ground, causing large amounts of rock and soil to rain upon everything below.

(Callin had to stuff her cloak in her mouth to keep from screaming.)

He stepped out of the mound of soil, and the rest followed after him, looking up at him with respect and adoration. His status as a leader was marked by the red war paint on his brow, which was painted into a triangle with two dots underneath. He was known as Brobow.

Brobow skulked over to a big tree.

He grabbed two of the main branches and pulled them in opposite directions, his brow furrowing with strain. For a minute, nothing happened, and then, with an ear splitting tearing noise, the trunk ripped apart. Satisfied, Brobow sat down between the two parts of the trunk as if it was a grand throne. Turning to his left, he pulled a long, thin branch off the tree and stripped it entirely of leaves. He bellowed out at the gathered bogwarts, and one loped forward holding a large bucket filled with more red war paint. Brobow leaned forward and dipped the bare branch into the bucket, staining it red. He then planted the branch into the ground next to his throne, as one might plant a flag, and began talking to the assembled bogwarts in a steady stream of their harsh language, Werk.

Callin scrunched her forehead, wishing she had paid more attention to the language lessons she had received when she was younger.

We have succeeded in claiming our new territory! Brobow boomed. The Gulhein will be pleased! So come, paint your brows with war paint and sharpen tooth and claw! The master will reward us, come this war’s victory!

While the bogwarts cheered and ran to the bucket of war paint, Brobow frowned and, standing up, sniffed the air. Suddenly, he let out an angry bellow.

A spy! A filthy Aaren spy! He roared. Catch it, and let it be our sacrifice to the Gulhein! Callin jumped, and terrified, hurriedly climbed back onto Varken’s back.

She immediately pressed him into a gallop, and the horse obliged, just as eager to get away from the bogwarts as she was.

Brobow came after her, tearing down the trees in his way as he went.

You will pay, Aaren scum! he yelled.

Callin galloped away, towards the Aaren Clàn’s citadel, and safety. She was worried. From what she could see, a war was brewing and while the bogwarts seemed to be prepared, the Aareners weren’t...

The Aaren city was backed against a cliff, so there was only one way in, and one way out. It was a sprawling citadel, the huts and houses made of wood and stone, with dirt paths leading through the maze. The River Narlien began here, a gushing waterfall falling ten meters down the cliff before winding through the citadel, cutting it in half, the two halves re-joined by the many bridges.

Callin ran to the hut, where she lived alone with the hunter, for her parents had died before she had any memory of them. She dropped her pack, the rabbits she had caught, and her bow, inside the door before hastening towards the palace, where the Lord of the Aaren Clàn lived.

She ran up the steps of the palace into the large brightly lit hall. At the far end, there was a desk in front of large double doors, through which lay the room the Lord held audiences and meetings.

She rushed to the desk.

I need to see the Lord, it is very urgent, Callin said, panting from running. Without looking up from her paper work, the assistant, Mural, waved her past. Callin hastened around the desk towards the doors.

But first, said Mural suddenly. You must answer a riddle.

Callin walked back to her.

I didn’t know that, she said.

The Lord’s orders, Mural answered, still not looking up.

I need to see the Lord urgently, Callin pleaded, it really cannot wait. Mural raised her head slowly and frowned at her. Child, she said. Do you really want to defy a direct order from Lord Almor himself? 

Callin sighed, and glared at Mural (she thought this a pointless exercise and did not like Mural calling her ‘child’). "Very well. What is your riddle?"

Mural closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. She stood up and her perfectly white dress turned a black so dark it was green.

She began chanting the riddle, but it wasn’t her voice.

It was female, but it was a deep, hollow voice. It was a voice that could whisper fear into your heart, a voice that could control you and haunt your dreams.

A voice that could drive anyone mad.

What’’, whispered the voice, causes a room to be brighter than light, yet darker than night?"

Callin paused for a moment, unsure of the answer and Mural smiled, the smile almost as disturbing as the voice.

Struggling, child? Mural said,