Dark One Rising by Leandra Martin Page A

chill so deep, he could feel it in his toes.
    He rode through the woods, maneuvering his horse around the large trees. He had traveled these woods and back roads so often, he could safely pass through them at this speed with his eyes closed. But today he needed to keep sharp, his eyes needed to see every movement and be wary of every person he came in contact with. He was not worried about being seen at Sol’s cottage, for the sorcery kept it hidden from those he didn’t want to find him. Only friends could find Sol’s house. If he was indeed going to keep the princess safe, away from the spying eyes of those who would report to Fallon, he would need Sol’s help.
    He approached the spot where he would have to dismount and lead his horse on foot. The way into Sol’s place was tricky to those who had never been there before, but even he was nervous that he might get lost in the hidden woods if he was not careful.
    He jumped down from his horse and grabbed the reins, leading it around the bole of a huge tree. He took a quick moment to stretch his back and legs that had gotten stiff from the cold hard ride. He let the reins of his mount fall, his horse leaning down to graze on whatever foliage he could still find on the hard forest floor.
    Alekzand’r leaned up against the tree, calling out, “Sol, it’s Alek. I need a favor.”
    He waited for a few minutes, then felt the air around him change. He grabbed the reins of his horse again and walked around the same tree he had been leaning on. The forest was the same, but there was now a small path leading off to the right, that had not been there a few moments before. He took the path, winding through the trees for approximately a half mile before he saw a small cottage with a plume of smoke coming from out of the chimney. He walked to the front door, tied his horse to the rail just outside, and knocked. He waited for a few moments, then the door creaked open just slightly, and Alekzand’r pushed it open the rest of the way, stepping into the plain, but warm house.
    There wasn’t much to adorn the roughly built cottage: a table with two chairs near the kitchen area on the right, a door leading to a tiny bedroom off to the left. A large bookcase stood against one wall with heavy leather bound books, maps and parchment strewn haphazardly on the shelves. There was a fireplace with two chairs in front of it toward the back of the room. Sol was sitting in one of the chairs, feet propped up on an overturned bucket, smoking a pipe.
    Alekzand’r approached Sol, who looked his way for a moment, nodding, then turned back to the fire, the light of it dancing in his eyes.
    Sol was older than Alek, but Alek never had the guts to ask how old he really was. He suspected he wouldn’t believe it even if he told him the truth. His face was wrinkled and pale, with crinkly lines at the edges of his eyes. His hair was straight and gray, and it touched his shoulders. He was wise but quiet, and he knew every inch of Aelethia better than all the map makers combined. He had strange ways and powers that Alek didn’t understand, or wanted to understand. But he was loyal and a good friend.
    He continued to remain silent, puffing on his pipe and making halos over his head. Alek sat down in the other chair, removed his gloves and leaned forward, holding his now bare palms out toward the flames, rubbing them together to fight away the numbness from the cold.
    Sol puffed on his pipe a few more times, then stood up and went to the pot that was hanging from a hook over the fire. He stirred the contents, grabbed a cup from off another shelf in the kitchen, and ladled a bit of the concoction into it. He handed it to Alek, who took it gratefully, sipping the liquid and feeling the warmth soothe his raw throat. Sol ladled more into another cup and sat down with it in the chair he had recently occupied. He sipped the liquid too, then sighed. “What brings you back to my doorstep, Alek, after so much time