AMULET by Nancy Lee Parish Kindle Edition Copyright © 2011 Nancy Lee Parish This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the work of this author. With special thanks and appreciation to Michael Bastow and Jennifer Bastow for their enormous contributions to this book, And my deepest gratitude for my husband, Patrick, Without whom this book might never have been. I would also like to thank Lisa Cox who, by the magic of thin threads, has truly been a blessing to the pages you are about to read. This book is dedicated to anyone who has ever had a dream. You are the magic. Sometimes the greatest legends are born from the darkest hearts. ~Patrick A. Parish PROLOGUE Darius ran. The moonlight lit his path where it dipped between the silvery branches above. The Dardan Riders had picked up his trail and were closing in. He knew they would not stop pursuing him. He might be able to get away. Maybe. At least he had gotten the bundle to its destination. That was more important than even Darius’ life. He was certain Tristan would find it where he had left it. He was just as certain that Tristan wouldn’t know what any of it meant yet, but he had to risk it. His soft leather boots at least afforded him silent passage through the forest he now ran through. Darius let one arrow loose to lead the Riders away from Tristan. Even the Ecli, the dark wizards that ruled all of Ranaria, were not yet aware of what role this child might someday play. Tristan wasn’t really a child anymore, Darius mused. He was eighteen now, but Darius had been keeping watch over Tristan from a distance ever since his mother, Celeste, had been killed in a fire eleven years earlier. She had passed along the bundle to Darius the day before she died. The contents were to be revealed to Tristan when he was another year older, but circumstances had changed. It had to be now. He dodged in and out of the trees, hoping to confuse the Riders, when a sudden pain seared through his shoulder blade. He looked down and saw a crossbow bolt protruding from his chest. It had pierced right through, the blood running in rivulets down onto the soft forest floor. Four Dardan Riders closed in around him, their black cloaks with the silver and red crest of Dardanos and the Ecli hiding their faces. Faces, Darius knew, that had lifeless eyes. Darius sank to his knees and wondered at the trees as they swirled about him, becoming a torrent of leaves and trunks blurred into a mist of spiraling green, fading until all became blackness but not before he saw the brilliant green eye of a dragon as it soared high above the trees. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The first rays of sunlight streamed through the window into the small bedroom of the farmhouse, softly filtered by the old oak standing guard next to the meadow. Tristan opened his sleepy eyes and stretched, smelling the bacon his father, Elias, always cooked in the mornings. Tristan got up and walked over to the nightstand to splash water on his face before going outside to his favorite bench. He loved the feel of that old bench, worn smooth by years of wear and many stories read and told while sitting on it. As he sat down, he noticed a small bundle underneath wrapped in leather and cinched with twine. Puzzled, he pulled it out from its hiding place then stopped abruptly. He felt something pass through him, something subtly strong and warm, tingling. Slowly, he opened the bundle and stared in awe. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ PART ONE: DISCOVERY CHAPTER 1 Almost three months had passed, but Tristan thought back almost every day to the morning he had found the mysterious bundle beneath the bench out back. He thought of it now as he stood at the bedroom window, running his fingers absently over the amulet around his neck. When he had first found the amulet, he had kept it hidden in the bundle under his bed, but lately he had taken to wearing it. He liked the warm tingle that ran through his fingers whenever he touched it. There were other things in the bundle. A crude map of somewhere Tristan had never seen, a strange drawing of a device of some kind, a small silver cylinder, and a crystal, green, flat and twelve sided, that fit snugly into the back of the amulet. It was the amulet that intrigued Tristan the most. It was made up of twelve straight, finely crafted, burnished gold bars that formed a circle, and in the center was an intricately carved dragon, its wings arched and feathered. The eye of the dragon was a brilliant green emerald. The amulet hung from a fine leather lace that slipped easily over his head. Tristan lived with his father and his sister in Thavin Valley in the far northern corner of Adriana, one of the provinces of Ranaria, a land that was once home to a prosperous people. Slowly over the last five hundred years, Ranaria had fallen into complacency. There used to be wizards, of a sort, who were overseers of the three provinces of Ranaria. They were gentle beings who took the needs and desires of the Ranarians seriously and did what they could to resolve differences, but generally they left the people to govern their own affairs. Gradually, the wizards fell to one fate or another. It was not clear exactly what had happened to them. Usually it was simply said to be old age or some sort of accident. Many of them had perished in the great fires that ravaged Dardanos one night nearly five hundred years ago. Very few people questioned the deaths of the wizards. A lot of them disappeared over such a slow and gradual stretch of years, that it didn’t seem all that strange to anyone. Just as gradually, there emerged a select few wizards whose different ideas began to take root in Ranaria, ideas of what an overseer should be. It was subtle at first. Most folks didn’t even notice the changes. Point of fact, most people actually accepted the changes because with every new rule that came into being, there was also a benefit for the Ranarians. What most folks failed to see, however, was that the so called benefit really covered up yet another small way the wizards could now interfere in the lives of all Ranarians. Four of these wizards believed that the people couldn’t govern their own affairs, thus they appointed themselves for that role. They became known as the Ecli. “Tristan! This bacon is getting cold!” his father, Elias, called from the kitchen, interrupting Tristan’s thoughts. Elias still cooked bacon every morning, and today he had added fresh eggs from their chickens. Tristan tucked the amulet back under his tunic as he made his way to the bright kitchen. It was an old, well worn home of wood, polished by use and love. He pulled up a wooden chair and looked across the table at his sister Andra. She just giggled at him then chomped down rather viciously on a piece of bacon. She seemed to be at an age where everything was either terribly funny or indignantly appalling, but Tristan knew she was also very clever. Tristan and Andra looked nothing alike. While he had blonde curls tied back and brown eyes, Andra had long dark hair, usually braided, and blue eyes. She was only eleven. When Andra had finished her breakfast and had left to go visit her friend, Vaisa, at the farm just over the hill, Tristan turned to Elias. “Father, tell me again of the Volanari.” “Tristan, you know it is not wise to speak of these things. I am always looking over my shoulder expecting to see one of the Dardan Riders whenever you ask of such matters.” Elias took Andra’s dishes to the sink. “I know Father,” Tristan said, grinning and sliding his fork under one of the eggs. “That’s why I checked for signs of them before bringing it up. Unless they have learned to climb trees, there is not a Dardan Rider within a league of here.” Tristan knew that his father would be more inclined to talk of the Volanari if he could be assured that no Riders were about. He hadn’t seen any near their farm. The Dardan Riders were mounted guards from the city of Dardanos, many leagues to the south. Dardanos had stood for more time than anyone could remember and was now home to the Ecli, the ruling wizards. “Very well.” Elias picked up his pipe and settled into the chair opposite Tristan. He looked strained, as he always did when Tristan asked about these things, as if he bore the weight of great secrets. Tristan wondered if his father knew more than he spoke of. Elias was a stocky man, his hair now grey, pulled back and tied at the nape of his thick neck. His tunic was a deep forest green, and his breeches were of leather. His bright, golden brown eyes dimmed as he began to speak. “The Volanari oppose the Ecli, as you know, which of course is not wise according to most folks. It is dangerous to speak against them, and so far none do openly. But it is said that the Volanari do just that in secret. One cannot join forces with them, unless invited. The Dardan spies are everywhere and suspect there is a resistance to the Ecli, though they have not been able to find them.” “How do you know that one cannot join the Volanari unless invited?” Tristan asked, breaking off a crisp piece of bacon. Had his father been invited? Elias pondered, gazing at some unseen sight before him. Finally, he spoke. “Someone I knew was once asked to join them, many years ago.” There was a sudden knock at the door. Elias seemed to jump out of his skin at the sound. He took a deep breath, then rose to answer the door giving Tristan a warning glance as he passed by. Opening the door, he visibly relaxed when he saw Thoral, their neighbor, standing there with his unruly beard and long shock of red hair. “Aye, ’tis me, Elias! You look as though you’ve seen a ghost, you do!” Elias waved Thoral in and closed the door. “Just startled me, is all. Tristan was asking about the Volanari again, and you know how I get.” He quickly changed the subject. “How is the corn doing this fine morning?” Thoral was known all over these parts for his corn, the finest to be had. He was also well known for his corn whiskey, popcorn, and fritters, though frowned upon by some as “tedious waste.” Thoral let out a hardy guffaw. “Depends on who you ask, my friend! Now if you ask them no good Riders, my corn is fine when sent to the Ecli. But those bastards wouldn’t know a good fritter if it jumped up and bit their hiney, supposin’ they got one!” Tristan grinned. He liked Thoral and his brusque manner. Thoral tended to say what others only thought, yet he was smart and had a way of seeing things for what they really were. Elias looked uneasy. “Thoral, perhaps….” “Calm yourself, Elias. Them pesky Riders stopped by my farm and I sent’em off in the other direction. Which is why I stopped by, actually. Wonderin’ if they’d already been ’round here askin’ about some disturbance or other.” Thoral pulled up a chair and sat next to Elias. “Disturbance?” Tristan asked, pushing his plate aside. “Yeah, they always seem to have their knickers in a bunch about something. Now they’re asking about some flying creature. They could all use a hefty swig of my corn whiskey. Might actually relax them!” Flying creatures? Tristan wondered if Thoral had been into his corn whiskey already. “Well, there are plenty of birds….” began Elias, though he doubted that was what the Riders were asking about. “You don’t think….?” “Naah” said Thoral. “Just old wives tales, those are. Probably just old Hughet down the way trying to conjure up something again. Last time he got to experimenting, he blew up his barn, the old fool!” “What did they ask you about flying creatures?” asked Elias, bringing the rest of the bacon to the table. “Oh, they said they had reports of an unauthorized flying creature, and they were aiming to find whoever was responsible. Pity the poor bastard they pick to blame this one on.” Thoral eyed the bacon, and Elias pushed the plate to him. Elias rested his chin on his fist as he sat at the table staring, once again, at something Tristan couldn’t see. His eyes darkened as if whatever memory before him was troubling, yet at the same time he looked like he was wrestling with a hopeful possibility. “What are you two talking about?” asked Tristan, feeling as though he’d missed something important. Thoral picked at the bacon. Elias stared out the window. No one spoke for a long moment. “Well?” Tristan pushed. Elias took a deep breath and glanced over at Thoral, who merely shrugged and ran a burly hand over his beard. “The world was not always as it is now, Tristan,” began Elias. “There was once a great Empire, many centuries past, that began with the best interests of its people in mind, but over the years power fell into the hands of a select few who became very corrupt. These few only cared about their own interests, and with their power they were soon able to rule over all.” Elias gave Thoral a questioning look, and again Thoral merely shrugged. Elias continued. “When the Empire finally fell, they say that a dark wizard came forth who was aided by…” he paused, and seemed to gather his strength, “dragons.” “But don’t you be talkin’ dragons within earshot of any Riders, Tristan,” interjected Thoral. “Even though the Ecli claim to have proven that dragons are just folklore, they seem to get mighty riled at even the mention of them.” Tristan barely heard Thoral. Dragons? Could they really exist? There was something strange about his amulet after all. Maybe it held some kind of power…but what did that have to do with dragons? Then again, the amulet had a dragon in its center. Tristan’s mind was bursting with questions. Questions he couldn’t ask just yet. Just then a loud crash came from outside. “Probably one of the horses kicked over the trough again. I’ll go see to it,”