Trina L. Talma's fiction -- Morstan & Beyond

My current published work includes a five-book fantasy adventure series, the Zania Corthinn series. The books, in order of publication, are Silver and Blood, River's End, The Throne of the Sun, Return to Dawn and Dreams of Darkness. This series tells the stories of Zania Corthinn and her friends in the country of Morstan and the lands beyond it. Further descriptions can be found by clicking on the Amazon links below, or you can check out my Lulu storefront (link above). Then there is my short-story collection, Tellers of Tales. This collection includes fantasy, sci-fi, humor, and romance stories, as well as stand-alone stories that were originally published in my fantasy series. Tellers of Tales is also available on Amazon and other online retailers. If you would like an autographed copy of one of my books, you can buy directly from me through Amazon (look for seller hrtsmom) or through my Silkfair store

As noted above, I've just published a new book, Cherish the Fire. This book is currently available on Lulu as a paperback and as a direct download, and should soon be available on other online retailers.

I was born in the forest, in a larger version of our forester camp. My parents had been with the forester band for less than a year then. They originally came from a small village to the east of Ocrisia, but had gone into debt and lost their land. On their way to Ocrisia, they were lost in the forest and attacked by bandits. Our band found them half-dead and took them in.

It was a hard life for them both, but especially for my mother. She nearly died when I was born, but my father told me this was what helped convince them to stay with the foresters. They took care of my mother while she was ill, instead of abandoning her to her fate, as might have happened in the city. The foresters were a family to my parents, and to me as I grew up.

I was an ordinary child at first. I don't remember anything unusual happening to me until I was ten years old. Then one night -- it was at the beginning of winter, near the time of the Solstice -- I woke up very suddenly. I couldn't tell why at first. My family's tent was dark; my parents were asleep. The camp seemed quiet as well.

Then I heard a sound out in the forest: the long call of a wolf. It was joined by another, and another, until it sounded like a full pack in chorus, somewhere out amongst the trees. This was the wolves' song before hunting, but I knew they wouldn't hunt us. Nothing dared approach our fires. I wasn't afraid, but a shiver went up and down my spine. Somehow, I felt the wolves were calling me to join them.

I crept out through the flap of the tent, then moved into the shadows of the forest, making sure I wasn't seen by any of the guards. I didn't know where I was going, but something led me onward, to the wolves. I never thought about turning back.

When I found them at last, in a little clearing on top of a rise, they stopped their howling and turned to stare at me. The biggest of the males stepped toward me, growling as if ready for a fight. But I still wasn't afraid.

I'm not certain exactly how it happened. But it occurred to me if I wanted to stay with the wolves, and hunt with them, I couldn't do it as a human boy. With that thought in mind, I turned around in a circle where I stood. I felt my legs shorten and my face grow longer, and saw the fur appearing on my body as I dropped to all fours. I shook myself all over, getting a sense of my new body as the transformation took hold. I trembled with excitement and even let out a little bark: I had become a wolf like the rest.

As my body changed, the world around me seemed to change as well. I saw things less clearly. Even at night, there are some colors in the forest, but now those were gone. I saw everything in shades of gray and white. My nose had grown sharper, though, and the smells -- it's hard to describe, but they were like smells, and tastes, and colors, all together. The snow smelled cold and wet, the trees smelled gray. My companions each had their own particular scent, and I knew, from his scent, that the big fellow in front of me was the leader of the pack.

I could see my shadow in the snow -- four legs and a long body -- and felt my tail waving. The other wolves came over to sniff me and then to play with me. We rolled and wrestled on the ground, and I knew I was being tested as well as welcomed. At last the pack leader broke off the game with a sharp bark, and led us to the hunt.

I felt like the wind itself as I ran with them that night. It was as if I could have run forever. We killed and ate, and played in the moonlight. But at dawn I seemed to remember who I was, and where I belonged. I changed back to my own form again, and after a short time the wolves left me behind.

I followed our trail back to the hilltop where I had met them, and from there I started back to the camp. One of our scouts found me when I was halfway there, and brought me back with her. Needless to say, my parents were half-mad with worry over me. My father didn't believe a word of the story I told, and he was ready to give me a beating. I don't know which made him angrier: that I had run away, or that I seemed to be lying about it.

My mother, however, reminded my father that the rules of our band said any punishments of members were supposed to be decided by our leader, Hauerdon's father Varon. I'm not sure the rule applied in my case, but it did save me from a beating. Varon listened to my story, and then he looked at me for a long time. Finally he asked one question: "Has anyone looked at the boy's eyes?"

I didn't know what he meant, and my parents had been too busy scolding me to notice anything. But when Varon said that, they both turned to look at me, and they seemed astonished. I must have looked puzzled, because Varon smiled, brought a small mirror out of his tent and handed it to me.

I looked at my eyes in my reflection and saw why my parents were so surprised. My eyes had both been blue the night before. Now one was brown, like the eye of a wolf.

"It seems very possible to me that Risch is telling the truth," Varon said. "There are strange powers at work in the forest, and we don't know as much about them as we perhaps should." Then he turned to me and smiled. I can still remember him there, on his seat underneath the old oak. He was like an older version of Hauerdon -- always trying to do his best for all of us.

"Were you frightened when this happened, Risch?" he asked.

I thought about it for a moment, then I said, "No. It was fun."

He laughed. "Good. You shouldn't be afraid of this power. It's a gift. But you mustn't misuse it, either. There's a reason why it was given to you -- a purpose. It's up to you to find out what your purpose is."

You might think this was a heavy burden to place on a child. But I had grown up a bit that night as well. I felt surer of myself. I stood up a little straighter and said, "I'll try, sir."

"That's all anyone can ask of you," he told me.

I tried not to spend too much time playing with this new power of mine. I knew my mother worried whenever I went into the forest with the wolves. But after a time the temptation became too great. Every time I changed the transformation was easier and quicker, until I could become a wolf almost without thinking about it. Some nights I stayed with the wolf pack, which had accepted me as a member, from dusk until dawn. Other times I was away for more than a day, as the pack followed a herd of deer or other animals. There were so many children in the camp then, hardly anyone except my parents noticed when I was gone.

Running with the wolves helped me grow strong and swift. In my human form I was still a boy, but in less than a year I was an adult wolf. Soon I felt more comfortable as a wolf than as a boy. I liked looking at my reflection when the pack stopped to drink at a stream, because unlike the rest of the wolves, I had a coat of white that glowed in the moonlight. I loved having this power. But I couldn't imagine the purpose in my having it. As my father was fond of pointing out, there seemed to be no practical use in the ability to turn myself into a wolf.

One horrible day, however, I found that purpose.

That fall, I was fourteen years old. I had started learning the use of weapons, mainly the longbow and knives. I preferred the natural weapons I had at my disposal, though, and I learned to juggle the throwing-knives sooner than I learned to fight and hunt with them. I used any excuse I could to get away from my lessons.

On this particular day, I slipped away from the camp in the late afternoon, and spent some hours with my pack, dozing in the shade or playing under the trees. It wasn't until nearly sunset that I noticed something wrong. There was a strange smell in the forest: people who were strangers to mine. There were so many of them, and they brought torches and weapons.

I knew at once I should warn the camp, and I started back as fast as I could. A few of the wolves came with me, perhaps thinking I was playing some new game. My heart jumped into my throat when we came across the body of a forester scout. As I ran on, I knew I was already too late.

The camp had become a battleground. My friends -- my family -- were fighting and dying everywhere. Their attackers were a band of men dressed in forest clothing like our own, but much more heavily armed than my people. The strangers had my band outnumbered.

Suddenly I saw my father fall with an arrow in his throat, and everything became clear. I knew what I had to do. Running back into the forest, I sent up a call for my packmates. They all came running: the she-wolves and the gray elders, the strong adults and the young ones barely past puppyhood. The leader came too, and let me know he was at my service. Ordinarily this human battle would have sent the pack into hiding. But they knew what I was, and they followed me.

I led them straight into the battle. The pack knew the foresters; they knew which side of the fight they were on. As for me, I was better at fighting in my wolf form than in my other one. I didn't hesitate to attack the first stranger I came to.

The battle passed in a blur. I didn't know what was happening for a long time, until I realized the fight was over. The strangers had retreated, leaving my people as quickly as they had attacked.

When we sorted ourselves out, we found nearly half our band had been killed or seriously injured. Not even the children had been spared: only the older ones who could fight had stood a chance. My parents were both dead, and Varon was dying. I was back in my own form again, kneeling beside my mother's body, when Kierran called me. "My father wants to speak to you," he told me when I went to him.

I am currently working on four books, all of which tie into the world of my fantasy series. One of these books takes place in the distant past of Morstan, and is what I would describe as speculative fiction. In other words, it is a story that could mostly take place in our own world, but also has elements of supernatural fiction. The other three books are fantasy adventure. I have a long timeline written out and am working on filling in the stories that take place along that timeline.

I'm also in the process of putting together another short-story collection, which I'm hoping to publish before the end of 2010. I've been writing short stories here and there over the past year or so, and I finally have enough that I had to admit there should be another collection!