Powers That Be by Mary Perkins (interesting novels in english TXT) 📕

Wren opened her eyes to the voice of her brother, Glyn singing. She peeked out the flap of their shelter and saw the shadow he cast before the flames of the camp fire. The purple moon changed everything to a rose and lavendar color, the fire was dark blue and ochre.

Sitting up and moving the blanket aside, Wren grabs her weapons and leaves the tent.

Smiling, Glyn looks up at her. "Ahh sis, did I wake you with my little tune for the moonlight?", he asks.

"Yes, you did, as you do every night." she laughs softly. "But you know that I don't mind. It's beautiful to me."

They touch hands in the familiar family way, palm to palm, before she sits at the fire. She picks up a twig nearby and casts it onto the flames and watches as it turns green, then begans to glow orange. She loves the heat of the fire, for even though it is destructive, it has a life of it's own. And she loves all that has life.

"Sing a little more, brother", she whispers, "Sing the suns up."

Glyn grins and picks up his three stringed labo. "Anything for you, my dear."

It's a tradition between brother and sister, one of the West and one of the East. Glyn loves the setting suns and Wren desires the suns' risings. Though they were born opposite powers they are as close as siblings could be, realizing that one could not exist without the other. In the evenings, Glyn will 'sing the suns down and the moons up', but at his sister's request, he will also sing the morning back.

They are united in this hour before sunsrise with all the other West and East Folk on Tarven. Everywhere, other Powers of the same are joining and singing to the heavens. They know that the suns and the moons rise and set on their own, but they also know that this ritual keeps them tuned to the nature of Tarven. Even a small step away from tradition will lead their people away from their powers.

Glyn plucks at his labo and hums a bit. The colors of the late night and early morning flicker, purple, blue, white and lavendar. The moon's rays are weak but a beautiful amethyst shining down on their campsite.

At the exact moment that Glyn would begin to sing in his baritone voice, Wren flies across the campfire and knocks him from his seat on a fallen tree trunk.

"Whaaa...!" Glyn lands on his back hard and tries to recover, automatically reaching for his fire darts, kept always at his side.

"Shhhhhh!" Wren breathes into his ear, trying to convey her urgency in whispers, "something's close!"

They both recover quickly and assume crouching positions behind the fallen tree. One look between the two and they know that they are in communication with their parents, Mem and Willow, who are still inside the shelter. There's no movement beyond the flap of the tent, but both Glyn and Wren know that the North and South Powers are on alert.

Silently they creep forward, Glyn's power has darkened the flames of their campfire,the only light is from the purple rays of the setting moons and they move forward in shadow. Wren's hands are locked on her shield and short sword, and Glyn has a grip on his fire darts.

As they approach the tent, Mem ducks from the opening and assumes a standing at alert position, his sword at the ready. Willow follows close behind, her weapon held ready also. The air around them vibrates with danger.

Mem moves to close the circle of power quickly. Standing at the North end of the camp, he reaches for Glyn the West Power. Wren and Willow swiftly follow, East and South, all joining hands and the Circle is complete.

Mem-Dur begins the call:

"From the North....POWER!

Willow and Glyn quickly answer:From the South....STRENGTH!

From the West....COURAGE!

Wren speaks the closing words:

From the East....LIFE!"

With a gold colored flash that only they see, the Four Powers are suddenly changed into the warriors that their birth has given them.

Mem quickly turns his back on the circle and faces the river that borders the North side of their camp. Through the purple and blue trees, he can make out the silver flow of icy water tumbling over rocks. No danger there.

Glyn turns to the West and sees only trees and undergrowth, bathed in pale lavendar light. The sounds of nightlife that he had heard before are strangely silent. Something is there, he thinks.

Willow faces the South. A huge and seemingly impenetrable forest rises before her. Trees in every shade of purple loom close by and lavendar shaded snow covers the ground. She trembles as she senses an evilness moving closer.

Wren grips her shield and short sword and peers into the East. More forest of purple trees, more lavendar snow. A hint of danger wafts to her from the darkness.

Before Wren can react to her senses, Willow moves forward, bow and arrow held before her. "AAAHHHHH!" she screams and releases arrows faster than the eye can see.

Instantly, the other three Powers are at her side, ready to fight to the death. Willow's arrows fly fast and snow falls from the trees as they pass.

Wren raises her shield and brings up her sword. Mem growls under his breath and takes one step forward, with Glyn close behind.

Suddenly the drifts of snow seem to rise up and transform into a shape, no more than one. Three, at least!

" Get back!" Willow screams to Wren, who has stepped to the side of her mother. "Move back! Those are Worvens!"

Willow retreats even as she continutes to fire arrow after arrow. Her family closes in tightly and they form a circle of defense.

Worvens! What and why would Worvens be here, attacking their camp? All four had the same thought simutaneously. It didn't make sense, but whatever the reason, they moved as one and prepared to take the offensive.

The air suddenly drops to below freezing and they know that Mem-dur has called his power forth. Freezing cold slows anything and everyone, no matter how acclimated they are. It's a desperate move, because it also affects the other three Powers, yet they realize that desperation is their only hope.

Wren crouches low and raises her shield high as she watches the Worvens advance. Three of them in varying shades of black and evil. Their eyes glow in the purple darkness, shining in shades of red and yellow that send shivers up her arms.

Worvens are something so unnatural to Tarven that The Folk don't really know what they are. Most believe that they are a creation of the Elite, since they always seem to threaten Folk and Fayllon alone. In fact, rumors of the last few years have filtered through to The Folk, that the Worven acted in packs as directed by the Elite. Another plot, and a powerful one that had cost the lives of many.

Standing six foot tall at the shoulder, Worvens were muscled, hairy creatures that could move on two feet, but preferred four, just as the Northern Callox. They were similar to the Callox, wolflike and all teeth and ferocity. But there, the similarity ended. Worven also had a sickening human-ness about them. The intelligence in their eyes, their ability to walk two-footed and the unnerving tendacy to laugh as they attacked,  were just a few of the characteristics that frightened even the bravest of Folk.

And even as Wren thinks this, the Worven let loose with their echoing cry, letting it ring out across the campsite. "OOOOoooooOOOO!" crouching low, they prepared to attack. Wren felt every muscle in her body tense and she prepared to fight her last battle.

Mem stood tall and brought his mighty sword forward. Willow called out, even as she continued to throw arrows in the direction of the Worvens. Glyn was silent, yet he  began to glow as his Power came to the fore.

Suddenly, the Worvens were airborne, headed straight toward the Four, claws extended, teeth bared and their laughter filling the clearing eerily.

In spite of her training, Wren screamed as she struck the Worven closest to her. He kept coming, even though she'd made a solid strike to his mid-section. Black blood poured over the ground, melting the snow and sending up steam in it's wake. The Worven covered her body as it landed on top of her. She felt it's horrid breath as it came in for the kill. Wren could hear her family fighting, Willow's chant, Mem's growls and the sizzle of Glyn's fire darts.

Then Wren's world went white.

Violet light filtered into my senses and I caught the scent of burning juniper before I jerked fully awake. I tried to sit up and was pushed back into a prone position.

"Lie still, Wren!" Willow's voice was filled with caution, and I obeyed immediately.

My mother's voice had always had that effect on me...instant obedience. I couldn't help the groan that escaped my lips however.

I felt as if I'd been attacked by a pack of Worven.... I sat up and reached for my short sword and shield, heedless of the hands that held me down.

"No!" I screamed, before my father's voice cut me off.

"Wren-Mur! You are safe, child!"

His voice echoed in my head and I sank down on the pallet under me. I did not loosen the grip on my weapons.

I turned my head to the right, and the image of Willow, filled my vision.

"Wren, little bird, rest easy. All is well." As my eyesight cleared, the world crashed back into my senses.

Cold, purple air filled my lungs, and once again, I sat up but only to take a deeper breath of Tarven's beautiful atmosphere.

My mother crouched before me, her hair blowing in the breeze. Willow's face was dark green with concern and I realized how worried she was. I relaxed just a bit and took a deep breath.

I wanted to ask what had happened with the Worven, but before I could form the words, I saw a glow emanating from Willow's side.

Enclosed in the crook of her left arm was a jewel of indescribable beauty. This jewel was a shining orb, yet as I watched, I could see it's shape change from a circle to an oval and then to something starlike, with four brilliant points. Constantly moving and constantly changing shape and color. Blue, purple, green, gold, and finally, yellow.

As I watched, the glowing orb left Willow's arm and moved towards me. I was face to face with a creation that I had never truly believed existed.

"Mother!" I whispered, "it's a Tryfanll!"

"Yes, little bird, it is." Willow whispered back, her eyes enormous and dark purple in the night. "This Tryfanll, her name is Qua'O Le, is the reason that we're still alive on