Caller of Light Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Praise for CALLER OF LIGHT

  Dedication

  To my lovely editor, Lill Farrell, who gave me a chance, and to the Wild Rose Press for making a dream come true…thank you.

  1- FIRST LOOK

  2 – FIRESTRIKE

  3 – WALK

  4 – GETTING READY

  5 – TALK of KINGS

  6 – MOONLIGHT

  7 – AWAKENING

  8 – BREAKFAST NEWS

  9 – LIES and DECEIT

  10 – The END of a BEGINNING

  11 – FAREWELLS

  12 – FIRST NIGHT

  13 – MESSENGER

  14 – BRIDAL LANDS

  15 – MISUNDERSTANDINGS

  16 – FLAMES

  17 – PRECIPICE

  18 – ANGEL from ABOVE

  19 – ATTACK from BEHIND

  20 – RISE of an ANGEL

  21 – HOPE

  22 – ANTIDOTE

  23 – CONFUSION

  24 – SEARCH

  25 – BRINK of DEATH

  26 – FIRST FLIGHT

  27 – STIRRLAN

  28 – ACCUSATIONS

  29 – BETRAYAL

  30 – EXPLANATION

  31 – NEW BEGINNINGS

  32 – JUDGMENT DAY

  33 – The MAKING of a MISTRESS

  34 – MORNING AFTER

  35 – DREAMS

  36 – RETURN

  37 – CALL of the CRITON

  38 – BRANDING

  39 – CALLER of LIGHT

  40 – KINGS’ ARRIVAL

  41 – TIME to CHOOSE

  42 – HIDDEN MEANINGS

  43 – TRUTH BE TOLD

  44 – CALL of the MATRIARCH

  A word about the author…

  Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  Caller of Light

  by

  TJ Shaw

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

  Caller of Light

  COPYRIGHT © 2013 by TJ Shaw

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: [email protected]

  Cover Art by Debbie Taylor

  The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

  Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

  Publishing History

  First Faery Rose Edition, 2013

  Print ISBN 978-1-61217-706-9

  Digital ISBN 978-1-61217-707-6

  Published in the United States of America

  Praise for CALLER OF LIGHT

  “The story is shown through well crafted visual imagery as well as narrative. The heroine is deftly portrayed from the very start.”

  ~Marisa Corvisiero, L. Perkins Agency

  “This is classic high fantasy. STELLAR research & world-building. You are a GOOD writer, with super world-building and description. You were MADE to write fantasy.”

  ~Renee Wildes, Fantasy Romance Author

  “I was enticed from the beginning! I feel total admiration for Carina. Marek possesses all the qualities required of a stellar hero. The author used all the senses to establish an enchanting ‘otherworldliness’ of the setting.”

  ~Joelle Walker, Editor, MuseItUp Publishing

  “The world building is both fun and different.”

  ~Alicia Condon, Editorial Director, Kensington Books

  “This story was remarkable!”

  ~Dee Carney, Erotic Romance Author

  Awards

  2012 – Yellow Rose Winter Rose contest WINNER

  2012 – Cleveland Rocks contest finalist

  2012 – The Sandy contest finalist

  2012 – Great Beginnings contest finalist

  2012 – Smoky Mountain Laurie contest finalist

  2012 – Touch of Magic contest finalist

  2011 – Oklahoma Finally a Bride contest WINNER

  2011 – Heart of the West contest finalist

  2011 – Melody of Love contest finalist

  Dedication

  For my mom,

  who always provided encouraging words,

  a shoulder to lean on, and a swift kick in the pants

  during the times I stopped believing

  I could touch the stars.

  To my lovely editor, Lill Farrell, who gave me a chance, and to the Wild Rose Press for making a dream come true…thank you.

  To Debbie Taylor and D.C.A. Graphics, thanks for creating a fabulous cover.

  I’d also like to thank you, the reader, for purchasing Caller of Light and would love to hear from you. My e-mail is [email protected] and Website is www.TjShaw.com.

  1 – FIRST LOOK

  With a final grunt, Carina McKay scaled the remaining expanse to the top of the stark mountain. She crouched low, scanned the sky, and listened. Looking up at the Dorrado heavens, she gulped cold air into her lungs to calm her heart from the exerting climb. Even from a distance, only a few wispy clouds dotted an otherwise clear day, and aside from the wind whistling across the rocky surface, silence welcomed her. No voices or thunderous roars from angry Critons. No heavy footfalls from hundreds of soldiers running in the valley below, and no stomping hoofs or neighs from excited coursers.

  Satisfied no one watched, she stood and rubbed her arms, trying to warm them from the chilly breeze slicing through her thin blouse. She wished she’d brought her long, split tail riding jacket, but it remained tied to Mira’s saddle on the warmer, sheltered side of the summit.

  Mira, her young winged Criton, perched on a large overhang below, nestled under a strand of wide-leafed trees. Mira whined and stomped her feet, shaking the trees that would shelter her from the inquisitive eyes of animals and men flying overhead.

  Squirming at her Criton’s noisy commotion, Carina peered over the edge. Knowing the animal could hear her even from the distance separating them, she whispered, “Shhh Mira. They’d see you up here.” Carina frowned when Mira thumped her tail against a tree, making the leaves shiver, but the little Criton quieted under the canopy.

  Feeling exposed on top of the desolate mountaintop, Carina scouted for a place to hide. The barren peak didn’t offer much protection, sporting jagged boulders and deep crevices. With cautious steps, she crossed over the shards of blackened rock to avoid slashing an ankle and spotted a crack underneath a boulder large enough to conceal her from anyone flying overhead. After another glance across the bluff to confirm there was nowhere else to hide, she scrambled into the dark hole, praying nothing lived inside the blackness that would bite or sting. She knelt against the cold rock and tried to get comfortable.

  During the last few days she’d ridden Mira to the edge of her father’s lands, hoping to get a glimpse of King Duncan and his Criton riders. After finishing her chores, she’d sneak away to soar on the wind currents and calm an unexplainable restlessness building inside her. A rising awareness poked at her mind, needling her with a sense that her life was about to change forever. No matter how hard she tried to quash the sensation, the unease festered and swelled until it lived within her consciousness. The desperation had spiraled into an unbearable ache, her only solace found on the beating wings of her beloved Criton.

  A growing burn in her thighs from kneeling forced her to slide down to a
seated position and draw her legs up to her chest in the cramped space. If Father discovered her riding Mira, she’d be punished. He never liked her riding Critons because he considered the large, fire-breathing creatures, with rows of sharp teeth, as beasts for war and inappropriate for a noblewoman. Why he even considered her of noble blood made no sense to her anyway because of her mixed heritage.

  She learned at a young age that she’d never be a true daughter to her father. The little things hurt the most—the hugs Father offered her half sister Marissa, the gentle teasing to goad Marissa before kissing her cheek in apology, the well-spoken comments about his only daughter to visiting royals—just small moments in time that pricked Carina’s heart with each occurrence. After twenty-two years of life with a hollow ache in her heart Carina realized Father would never love her.

  When Mira’s screech pierced the silence of her dark cocoon, Carina jumped and cracked her skull against the roof of her hideout. “Ouch,” she stammered, clambering out of the crevice.

  “Mira, I told you to be quiet.” She probed the top of her head, exploring with her fingers in search of a bloody wound. Satisfied she wouldn’t die from blunt trauma, she stomped over to the ledge and murmured in her most authoritative whispering voice. “Be still down there.”

  Mira wailed and slammed her tail into the trees, peppering the already irritated Criton in a shower of dislodged leaves.

  Carina leaned over the rock face, trying to see through the treetops. Something was bothering the usually obedient Criton, but she couldn’t determine what was troubling her green friend. She decided to climb down for a closer look when a resounding roar thundered across the sky.

  She turned to witness Criton riders flying overhead while squads of men riding their mighty war coursers and fleet-footed soldiers approached in the valley below, flooding her veins with adrenaline. King Duncan and his men stormed toward her, shattering the silence of the countryside with every thud of a hoof, swoosh of leathery wings, and scream from an angry Criton.

  ****

  Marek Duncan couldn’t find any comfort in the steady beat of FireStrike’s wings. Even the impressive display of eleven bonded Criton riders spread out in a wide arc below him didn’t lighten his mood. He’d spent the last two weeks traveling hundreds of miles from his home, Stirrlan, to court King McKay’s daughter, Marissa. Just the thought of another arranged marriage after the first miserable attempt—or a mistress, for that matter—angered him more.

  The crisp air chilled his skin, matching the iciness in his heart. During his twenty-second year, he’d agreed to a marriage union with the daughter of a neighboring king, believing he would have a lifetime to fall in love with Saffron, his new bride. However, the love he’d so hoped for never happened, not even friendship. Five years later, at her request, he released her so she could journey home.

  His black leather gloves crackled when his grip tightened on FireStrike’s reins. He needed an heir to his throne to protect his lands from Outlanders. Sampson VelMar, his captain and trusted friend, had suggested he either marry another noble or find a mistress. He chose Marissa because rumor suggested she might be the next Caller of Light.

  FireStrike jerked his red head sideways to stare at a nearby mountain. “What do you see, boy?” Marek asked, focusing on the peak.

  Sampson flew up on Reeza, his dappled grey Criton with silver-tipped accents, and settled into formation behind and to the left of FireStrike. He pointed toward the summit. “Do you see him?”

  “Aye,” Marek grumbled. A lone man this far out raised some concern. Although the man might just be a lookout for King McKay, he could also be a spy with questionable intentions.

  “Do you want to send some men?”

  He heard the anticipation in Sampson’s voice. They had traveled hard for several days and the monotony of an uneventful trip had drained their spirit. Fighters at heart, journeying to another kingdom without so much as a hint of trouble left everyone restless. He smiled. He too had grown listless and needed to stir things up a bit. “Why don’t we all go?”

  A wide, toothy grin spread across Sampson’s face as both Critons banked in unison, followed by the other riders in a tight formation.

  Carina shielded her eyes from the sun to better glimpse the riders and their glorious beasts. The graceful animals soared above the foot soldiers and coursers. They glimmered in the bright light as the sun’s rays reflected off the sheen of polished saddles, head gear, and body armor. Flying wingtip to wingtip, they formed a wide V spanning the valley.

  Mira squealed, drawing Carina’s attention away from the riders. “Mira, shhh.”

  A shadow descended upon Carina and her breath caught in her throat. She recognized the distinct silhouettes of Criton wings dancing on the black rocks beneath her feet. The riders’ flight pattern had changed, blotting out the sun with their approach.

  Although in her heart she already knew she’d been spotted, she still hoped otherwise. Maybe they hadn’t seen her. Maybe the riders had simply adjusted their course. So, instead of fleeing the summit, she chanced another glimpse at the sky. To her dismay, all the riders bore down on her.

  She stared at the magnificent beasts, the beat of their wings moving in a unified, sweeping dance. Although the glare from the sun made it difficult to see, the Alpha Criton looked to be solid red, a rare color.

  She would’ve continued to watch if she hadn’t snuck away from home, but another yowl from Mira jolted her into action. She spun and ran, trying not to fall on the uneven ground. The cold wind swirled around her, whipping through her hair and bringing tears to her eyes as she raced across the mountaintop.

  Fear rippled down her spine, throwing her heart into a sputtering, flip-flopping rhythm. She resisted the urge to glance over her shoulder to assess the shrinking distance of the approaching riders and summoned the courage to hurtle herself over the edge of the mountain. She landed on her heels with a painful grunt and somehow managed not to tumble headfirst. She tried to maintain control in an almost uncontrollable descent as she dodged rocks and prickly bushes.

  As soon as her feet touched the level outcropping, she sprinted toward Mira. Sensing the riders were almost upon her spurred her reckless behavior. Without so much as a quiet greeting to her little Criton, she untied Mira and vaulted into the saddle.

  Trees whipped back and forth in the strong currents caused by the powerful beating wings of Critons overhead, forcing Mira to dodge the swinging branches as she navigated through the dense grove. They paused at the cliff overlooking a vast valley below. Mira had to leap away from the mountain and freefall before she could extend her wings to catch a draft. If her little Criton didn’t jump out far enough, they’d never clear the rock face and tumble off the steep ledge. Carina squeezed the reins in a death grip and crouched, her body vibrating with fear, anticipating Mira’s plunge.

  ****

  As they neared, Marek scowled in confusion. Their quarry’s long hair flowed behind him. When Marek saw shapely curves, he realized his mistake. What in Criton’s breath? The scout was a woman.

  He had watched her scurry across the peak, jumping over crevices and skirting around boulders. She had run as if her life had depended on it, like he was the hunter and she the prey. And when she had flung herself over the side of the mountain in one long stride, he had pursued her until she disappeared into a thicket.

  He reined FireStrike into an abrupt hover. The Criton’s red wings flapped up and down in an effortless rhythm. “Continue with the men,” he ordered to Sampson.

  “Sire, let me go. It might be a trap.”

  Marek grinned. “Don’t worry, my friend. I’ll meet up with you before Brookshire.”

  Leaning forward in the saddle, he encouraged FireStrike to circle the timbered sanctuary sheltering his prize. She had nowhere to go, except off a very steep embankment she could not traverse by foot. So how did she even get up there? He soon had his answer when he glimpsed a small Criton teetering on the edge of the mountain. The gir
l hunched low on the beast’s back—a Criton rider. His brow furrowed. Except for a very narrow gap, the wide canopied trees covered the entire rock shelf. She had no room to take off.

  “No,” he yelled. “Stop!” But his words scattered in the wind, going unheeded as the Criton’s muscles tensed and she leapt into the air.

  Marek gasped as the little animal clamped her wings against her body and plummeted. When the mountainside fell away her wings snapped open, but she continued her rapid descent toward the wooded valley below.

  Never taking his eyes off the foolish twosome, he urged FireStrike to shadow them from above. Once animal and rider reached the forest, they’d have to climb to avoid the trees and he’d be waiting. His pulse quickened as he watched them follow the angle of the mountain. The agile beast hugged the uneven terrain, skimming so close to the ground she almost touched it with every downstroke of her wings. They soared to the bottom of the slope, but instead of rising, the pair surprised him when the Criton tucked her wings and disappeared into the woods.

  He straightened in the saddle and laughed, shaking his head in astonishment. His mount snorted in frustration, chomping at the bit, eager to follow. “We’re too big,” he chuckled, petting FireStrike’s neck with powerful strokes. “They got the best of us. But in our defense, they know the lay of the land.”