Lone Wendy: The Girl and the Forest of the Gods Read online

  Lone Wendy:

  The Girl and the Forest of the Gods

  (The Lone Wendy Series)

  By D. E. Dunn (David Eric Dunn)

  Copyright 2015 David Eric Dunn

  Cover Art by: Arie Hong (ae-rie)

  Copyright 2015 Arie Hong

  http://ae-rie.deviantart.com

  This book is organized into chapters, that are broken into parts. Each chapter a different time and feeling, each part with its own theme. Sometimes the parts include broken passages of time.

  ( *** )

  Denotes a passage of time, how long depends situationally, look to the following passage for clues, if available. Most of all, enjoy ^_^

  Table of Contents

  World History -

  Pieces -

  Open -

  Chapter 1

  Part 1

  Journal 1

  Part 2

  Journal 2

  Part 3

  Chapter 2

  Part 1

  Journal 3

  Part 2

  Journal 4

  Part 3

  Chapter 3

  Part 1

  Journal 5

  Part 2

  Journal 6

  Part 3

  Chapter 4

  Part 1

  Journal 7

  Part 2

  Journal 8

  Part 3

  Journal 9

  Part 4

  Chapter 5

  Part 1

  Journal 10

  Part 2

  Chapter 6

  Part 1

  Journal 11

  Part 2

  Journal 12

  Part 3

  Chapter 7

  Part 1

  Journal 13

  Part 2

  Chapter 8

  Part 1

  Journal 14

  Part 2

  Chapter 9

  Part 1

  Journal 15

  Part 2

  Journal 16

  About The Author

  Contact

  The World and History in Brief

  In the world of Eniece, magic wanes, and technology begins its indomitable march. The fate of the world decided by a continent still young to the dominion of men. A land where the very earth lives, and Gods foreign of this world play.

  Long Ago, Eniece, like most worlds was formed by cosmic beings who filled the world with magic, and entrusted it to conscious Gods. But over the ages the Gods powers waned, and with them the magic of the world. Left behind in their absence, a world to be ruled by men. Humans quickly expanded to all known reaches, but soon found their large world to be quite small.

  Explorers set forth onto the unexplored oceans and discovered a new continent, later known as Elm. This continent was inhabited by druid peoples who worshiped Gods of foreign origin. The settlers founded different kingdoms and separated from their homelands. They fought the druids, but against the real and present Gods of the land, could not win. Until one day, one of the last great sorcerers from the kingdom known as Valasia, founded a cult of machines and took over most of the kingdoms.

  The sorcerer waged war on the druids and wreaked havoc on their lands leading some of the druid peoples to renounce their Gods and join the machinists. This angered the Gods who began to slaughter their own people. The survivors fled for machine lands and safety. Though sometime during the battles the sorcerer disappeared, the machinists built contraptions from his papers to contain the power of the Gods and pushed them back as far into the ancient forests as they could.

  The machinists made all other kingdoms their colonies and exploited them for resources. Though the machinists were brutal and uncaring towards their colonies, they brought centuries of relative peace. The people foreign and druidic blended, and eager to rid themselves of the chaos of war, all but forgot the way that the world was.

  With time though comes change, and with those centuries of peace powers reformed, and those days long forgotten beg to be remembered. The lies buried in the past long due to surface.

  In this time, the world is once again changing. The machinists are mysteriously pulling back all of their resources and armies from the outlying lands. As the forest of the Gods stirs again, whispers call in the wind, voices of the forgotten beckon to any that would hear them. The fate of the new world resting upon those who would listen. But most are deaf to the forces of the world, few would hear the call, and even fewer head it. The odds not a concern though for an old mind. A mind who knew the secrets of the past. The world changed by a lone man long ago, it would take only one to hear the call, the world changed once again by one lone soul.

  Pieces

  .... deep in the dark a glitter catches my eye, tossed in a stream ideas and dreams wrapped up and bound. To find such a thing here boggles the mind. In a place long forgotten by time.

  Farewell, a final word, but the ending pages are torn out. More, unsaid? The book is left behind. Perhaps the person was as well....

  Open

  Tides of change

  I was on an errand to get supplies from a neighboring village when I saw it. The task was a familiar one, something that I had done many times before, but as the smoke started to appear above the skyline, I knew this was no ordinary day. The scene was something so rare, I had never seen it in my life. This year it has happened twice, and my eyes couldn't believe, as I gazed upon the third.

  Long ago, we were simple fools, or so the tale goes. And being foolish, we worshiped fickle Gods of the wood. When the machinists conquered us, we were “informed” of our stupidity, and forced to abandon our Gods and worship the machine. But now, the machinists have abandoned us, and we face the wrath of men unafraid to die, and the old Gods unafraid to kill.

  I step into the village's main street, the feeling of turmoil still filling the air. The smoke wafts and waves where ever the wind pleases to push it, as remnant flames lick the sky. Scattered corpses line the roads, their eyes open wide, dead, and glassy. Laying there with a look as though someone had just switched them off, but the spatters of blood and torn clothing proved that it was much worse than that. They lay there, chucked about, among the lives they used to have. The products of their toil burned amongst the scattered ashes of their memories. Walking through the wreckage, curious, as if in a dream of sorts. I could only imagine where everything was the last time I was here, who I saw. And hope to not see them this time. Not the way that I met with the faces of everyone else. Cold amongst the flames, limp and life weary.

  I went on in shock through the village, a gentle shuffling breaking the crackling fire.

  'Could there be survivors?' I wonder.

  I call out, but no one returns. I continue, in a daze, my body pulling at me to run, to flee, but I’m captivated by curiosity.

  'What could have done this?' I think to myself as the ruins crumble beside me. I turn to look, suddenly through a gap, a man, covered in dirt and dried blood. I notice the blade only for an instant before he charges me. Over come with fear I fall, and claw desperately to escape. But to no avail. The feeling as the blade falls into me is surreal, a cold burn, and I feel as though I'm leaving myself...

  My heart pounds out of my chest, my legs shaking, the vision of it almost too real. A dog falls over the pile of ruins and runs back into the smoke as quickly as he came. To be in a place like this with such an active imagination is a terrible thing. I can barely catch my breath. I kick myself for a moment, to be so afraid, it's childish. But then it hits me, the real danger I'm in. I quickly search the ruins for any real threat, and shaking, I take my leave.

  Chapter 1

  Life


  Season – Late Summer

  It's strange to think of being yourself. Born of another, and learning to walk in their shadow. Knowing only as they know, of wrong and right. Forever as we know, being one.

  One day breaking from them, lost, and alone. Not even they, as a guide. The turmoil, as they look upon you without knowing. The fear, as you discover yourself.

  A new entity rises from the experience, though the bond will always remain...

  Part 1

  When the day comes

  The sun breaks over the ledge of my window, casting it's warm glow across my closed eyes. Slowly I warm to life and gently stretch. A cool breeze shuffles the leaves of the tree outside the window, and softly caresses my face. A new morning rises, and I rise to greet it. I shamble down the stairs as the workers shuffle out. The humored grunting of unmarried men echoing through the antique wooden beams of the barn like “lodge”. The kitchen is a wreck, mom greets me as always, a loving smile on a worn face. She manages to serve me breakfast as she hurries about cleaning up. The day has just started and she's already exhausted. The only attendant in a workers house filled with loggers, mom does all the work that she can, and I do what she can't. Not much, some would say, but she doesn't seem to like help. She wants me to have time to find myself, though sometimes I'm not sure she likes who that is.

  After breakfast I begin my day with chores. I open the door and push the screen, carefully, as to not let it fall from its hinges. It's a long walk to town from the outskirts, along a rough forested road. When I arrive, I’m greeted with a snicker. Mom has been an outcast among the townspeople for as long as I can remember. I was a child born outside of marriage, and in this kingdom that brings great dishonor to a family name. Were I born to another, I would have been left out in the woods to die. But my mom gave up everything, and moved to the farthest reach of civilization to keep me. Even out here we're not accepted, only tolerated. And I guess I don't help myself, me and my dreams. The area isn't safe anymore and I want to do something about it. Today is the day! I tell myself that at least. In truth, another day to be mocked. In between Gods at the moment, no one knows what to do. So they laugh at me, and do nothing.

  The town is made up of aged wooden buildings and dirt roads. No structures more than two stories tall, except for the town hall which is three. The roads are lined with signs directing you to each place in an orderly manner, something no local would ever do. You would think that this is the only place on earth if it weren't for the machinist propaganda in the middle of town. Intricate artwork of machines and mecha all with the Valasian brand. But Propaganda is where the Valasian aid ends. We get neither the heavy machinery of the industry towns, nor the heavy arms of the border that separates God from man. We are almost forgotten to live in another time. They exist mostly to take the lions share of what we produce. They rely totally on machines in their home country. Everything is made and done by their impressive metal monsters. But here, life is more simple. Hand spun cloths, water wells, and axes to chop trees. That's about all this town is here for, to contain us as we barely care for ourselves, and produce lumber to keep us busy.

  I push myself through the old wooden door of the towns only shop, a basket of things to sell, and a list of things to buy. Maybe today will be the day that the former out weighs the latter, I joke to myself, as the old man behind the counter tells me what a “youngster” I am for the fiftieth time. I guess I'm glad to be called a youngster. 'Others in town have called me worse' I think to myself, as just one such person slams through the door.

  “well have you slayed the giant yet!” he waltzes into the room to stare me down, cronies in toe.

  Duke. A large man, balding, with wild eyes, and a squared smirk on his wrinkled face. A well known town leader, or in my opinion, village idiot, we've taken stabs at each other for as long as I can remember.

  “I'm still deciding which giant should go down” I say to him sarcastically, as if eying him as a giant – which he is, in waist anyway.

  His smugness turns to anger, and he looks me down like today is the day that he'll finally do me in. His face tightening, his eyes beady. His anger building as we stay locked in a gaze. Suddenly the tone is broken as the old shopkeeper returns, and hands me my load, and bill. I pay It quickly while the other patrons eye me. Some of them smile, in a mean way. A few spout out some kind of ribbing from back in their day, they think they're funny. And some look upon me solemnly, as if I’m a dumb kitten, hell bent on killing myself from stupidity. It's never easy, to pretend I like these people. They certainly don't pretend with me.

  The people aren't all bad though, some are quite nice. But when you go around spouting nonsense that most are afraid to even think about, the average reaction is to hate you. The world is not the same now. I grew up in a time of peace and harmony. The machinists of Valasia are the most advanced kingdom on the planet. They treated us like slaves and prisoners. But for all of the bad things that machines brought, they also brought stability. A massive army, unkillable mecha, a barrier that pushed back the old Gods power, and unparalleled infrastructure. They built towns, roads, and factories that brought work. We depended on them for almost everything, and now with them gone the kingdom has fallen apart. Many without jobs. Only the few and poorly equipped town guards to defend us. No word from our king, or any news from the outside. And worst of all, bandits roam freely, and the old Gods enraged by centuries of betrayal and neglect, are rumored to have set their terrible power upon us as well. I want to do something about it. What I don't know. Some myths here and there, a rebellion to join, it all strikes terror into me. And yet if we do nothing, we'll burn like all of the others. That's were I take odds with everyone, they hope to hunker down and wish for the best, too afraid to act, and equally afraid to do nothing, but it's easier. And, “something has to kill you”, right?

  Journal

  In the trees, I’m understood. No one speaking, and yet listening, and that's all I need. To be heard, without criticism. All that I think, and believe, may not be right, but it's not so wrong. I want, I need, encouragement. To think that all that is my life, what I believe in, is worth something. To have someone understand. To have help. Anyone. Anything. Who knows how I feel.

  -Wendy

  Part 2

  Understanding

  I sit alone in the forest, my back against a huge old tree. This is my spot, my place to be when the world is overwhelming. I meditate, drawing comfort from my mind as the clouds sail by. I usually sit here unwinding from the common jabs of the village. When I was younger I played with the other kids and felt accepted. Everyone gave my mom a look, something between disdain and pity, and I never knew why when they were so nice to me. But as I grew and longed to let my wild spirit free I would catch the same looks being cast at me. Over time the village began to shun me as well, and those I knew as friends mocked and hated me. I wandered the village alone looking for a place to belong. Soon the empty library became my place to be, but it lacked something, the peace of the open world that only the woods could bring. The breeze drowning out the frowns and smirks. But today is different. The wind blows and I see flames leaping. The grasses roll like scattering ashes. Months ago I had heard of unrest and travesty, but the realness of it never hit me until I saw a village burning. I close my eyes and push my worries aside for a time. But before I know it, it's dusk. The world dimming through my closed eyes. My time is over.

  I stretch, gather myself, and head for home, cutting through the forest to get there quicker. Walking along plowing through the thicket with the grace of a boulder, I finally find the path that I was looking for, when suddenly a hand grabs my arm, twisting it behind my back, another hand swoops in around my mouth and pulls my head back tightly. Just as I begin to panic, a familiar voice.

  “Wendy?” a man sighs as his grip loosens and frees me. “what are you doing so far out here?”

  Through a strangers eyes he is a tall man, wearing a dressy coat over his armor. A warm smile, sad eyes, on
a face you could trust. To the townspeople, he is ex royal guard, and head of our town guard. A man to be respected and feared. To me, a man I know well, Wil, a friend.

  “I was thinking, before you tried to kidnap me” I joke with a smile

  “It's not safe this close to the boundary” he says unimpressed

  “I don't live that far from here”

  “yeah, well... you're unlucky”

  “you mean poor” I quip

  “Same thing. Come on, I'll walk you back to the old road”

  We walk together chatting leisurely, catching up. He tries to bring up my mom every other sentence, his love who just happens to ignore him completely. When we get to the road, I feel awkward. I want to tell him goodbye, that I'm leaving to find our salvation, but will he understand?