Cursed by Diamonds (A Dance with Destiny Book 1) Read online

  Cursed by Diamonds

  “In this amazing world of ours, there are many different shades of love and hate. Take care, Brothers and Sisters, for it is a dreadfully fine line which separates them.”

  JK Ensley

  Cursed

  by

  Diamonds

  Book One of

  A Dance with Destiny

  JK Ensley

  Copyright© 2012 by Jennifer Ensley

  Cursed by Diamonds is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance, or similarity to actual persons, living or dead, events, products or locales is entirely coincidental and unintentional.

  Artwork by Claudia McKinney. www.phatpuppyart.com/ and stock purchased from www.shutterstock.com/

  Cover Design by Ashley Dungan, The Bookish Brunette. www.bookish-brunette.com/

  Editing by Toni Rakestraw. www.rakestrawbookdesign.com/

  Additional Editing by Mel Carey.

  Proofing by Linda Ingle.

  Formatting by Jennifer Ensley. www.JKEnsley.com

  All rights are reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form, including but not limited to, characters, text, book design, and artwork all owned solely by Jennifer K. Ensley. Any unauthorized duplication and/or distribution of this work, characters, places, and story in whole or in part may result in civil liability and criminal prosecution.

  *Special Edition 2014*

  Download entire series here.

  This book is dedicated to my incredibly patient and beautiful children, Christian, Hannah, and Evie. Thanks for granting Mommy her me time to finish this work. You guys rock!

  I also want to thank my amazing friends, allies, and various partners in crime, Brandi Fox, Lee Tidball, Paul Ludwig, Charles Thomas, Jeanie Bowling, Vicki Surber and those whose shall remain nameless, for now. Without your support, suggestions, prodding, coaching, and guidance, I would never have been able to properly convey all the things hidden deep within the recesses of my jumbled (and a bit twisted) mind.

  I cannot possibly express enough appreciation toward my unbelievably talented editor, Toni Rakestraw, and her ever enlightening husband, John Rakestraw. You are an amazing team. Virtual fountains of wisdom, insight, and much needed encouragement. I send only love and healing thoughts your way, always.

  And to my awe-inspiring parents, Larry and Peggy Ensley, who will probably never read this book, and who will definitely never know just how much their unconditional love and guidance has made my life an enchanting, never-ending dream since day one. You are amazing gifts from God and I am humbly indebted, always.

  Gratitude!!!

  ***A very special thank you to Melissa Carey, without whom I would never have attempted this special edition. You have been my strength, dear friend, my light in a dark place. Gratitude, sweet sister.***

  Foreword from the Author

  The characters of my A Dance with Destiny series came to me via a daydream. That daydream turned into chapter one of Cursed by Diamonds. The remainder of the story flowed naturally through my mind—scenes playing out as I frantically wrote them down.

  In truth, it all started while I was looking into a snow globe, picturing a young woman sitting in an old tree swing. Her feet were dangling in the air just above a rippling little creek that edged a dense, darkened forest. I wondered what she must be thinking, what her life was really like. She had such a sense of calm about her—happiness, peace, serenity. I suddenly became jealous. Is anyone truly that blissful? No, they are not. At least, not in any world I’ve ever lived in. My curiosity grew. I wanted to know what it was that ultimately brought her to this peaceful little place. Was life always this good? Or (like most of us) did she have to go through some sort of hell… to find her own little heaven? What was her story?

  Pay close attention to the chapter names and you will understand why they are labeled thusly. As it is in life, there are many different stories and paths overlapping here. Naming the chapters after the characters helped pull my mind back to their individual sagas—sagas woven in a circular sort of tale, one that leaves you very near where you started.

  There are countless people who stroll through our lives—touching us, changing our destinies in some unimaginable ways. Many times we aren’t even blessed with their name or the knowledge of how they irrecoverably impacted our world… until they are gone. Yet, the many characters that dance in and out of our lives have their own story to tell, their very own take on our reality.

  Decisions and choices are grand focal points in every individual’s destiny. Although the goal may still be attainable, which path you choose and what you are willing to sacrifice becomes your true mark of worth.

  This is only the beginning. The whole could not be contained within just one cover. I hope you enjoy this enchantingly dark tale of curses, magic, joys, trials, and love.

  Know this… The path to your true destiny may be a very winding one indeed.

  JK Ensley

  “People can start out one way, and when life gets done with them, they’re someone else. As I lay dying, those cautious words echoed through my subconscious mind as the dreams came again. Strange and terrible dreams, ripping me from the peaceful slumber I so desperately sought.”

  ~ Jenevier

  Chapter Prologue

  “I feel a great darkness approaching, Mother. Have you seen nothing? Not a single vision?”

  “No, my son. I sense an entity, a ravenous soul, yet I see nothing clearly… not yet. Something dark approaches, but from whence it came and to what end it may go, I cannot tell.”

  “Does it concern her?”

  “I know not. It may well be within Ashgard, or even within her own family. Nothing has yet been made clear. Let us not guess. You will see trouble where none exists and miss the evil dancing within your grasp. When the time is right, I will see all.”

  *****

  The chill blew through Mangladune’s ancient trees the same as it did in the Thralldom Mountains. The unseen folk could feel the trembling elements and knew the tide of malice was fast approaching their lands. Even the animals bristled and hid their young. Ashgard would never be the same.

  “Something wicked this way comes, Sire.”

  “I felt it, Kias. My ancient bones rattle within me.”

  “Can you tell what it is, Father?”

  “Izadori, my child, I can tell who it is.”

  “Who? You don’t mean…”

  “Yes, dear one, he stirs. Revenge consumes him.”

  “What shall we do? Send forth commands, Sire, before all hope drains from the land.”

  “Nay, Kias. I will not move my hand against him. We will remain as we are.”

  “But, Father!”

  “No, Izadori. The Elves have withdrawn. We no longer interfere with the evils of man. We will observe and record, nothing more.”

  “Then, what good do we serve? What is our purpose here if we no longer protect and teach? Are you content with our entire race growing old and fading away? We have stood idle for so many years, our kind is no longer even recorded within their manuscripts.”

  “And, has that stopped your beating heart, my daughter? Have you lost the ability to draw air into your lungs because they no longer sing of your great beauty? No, dear one. They have their Guardians. We will not interfere.”

  “But the Guardians move not.”

  “They do not sleep. If their hand has been stayed in this matter, you would do well to remain far from it, my child.”

  *****


  The people of Ashgard had once known the warning signs, yes. Alas, their many years of ease had erased those darkened thoughts. Now, the cold wind only caused them to tighten their raiment. No one looked to the stars. The hand of death was upon them once more, and they noticed it not.

  Shibta had passed over Ashgard many years before. The demoness had brought with her a devastating plague. It was an epidemic, one which annihilated nearly half their population, leaving the decimated survivors roaming about in mournful despair.

  The mighty Guardians eventually restrained the demoness of disease. Shibta had been cast into darkness and was bound there still. But her twin brother, Shabriri, now sought his pound of flesh as payment.

  *****

  “Ah, Varick, I see him.”

  “Who is it, Mother?”

  “The master of the true darkness.”

  “No… Shabriri… anyone but him. Does the summons come? Is the time ripe?”

  “Yes, my son. The summons is here. Call every warrior to your side. If this chieftain of evil is allowed to touch even one—”

  “I know, Mother. I know.”

  The thunderous sound of wings filled the sky as the dogs of heaven gathered en masse, blotting out the very sun. Battle rage and blood lust consumed their every thought. As the cry went forth from each commander, legion upon legion disappeared into the swirling cloud bank.

  The graceful seer emerged to stand next to her son as he made ready his generals.

  “Fair news from blessed mother would go far to temper rising fears.”

  “A request I would gladly grant, but cannot.”

  “He has taken her, hasn’t he? By all that’s holy! I vow to you now, Mother, no soul will rest until I have cast that demon into the pits of hell by mine own hand. If he has harmed but a single golden hair upon her fair head—”

  “He will save her for last, to better savor her misery. Varick, he touched Marlise.”

  “No…”

  “Yes, my son. It has begun.”

  *****

  The majestic King of the Elven folk stood silent within their forest domain. The whispers and fears of his people circled about him.

  “The summons has come down.”

  “Do we join the Guardians once more?”

  “Nay, Kias. We will not interfere.”

  “Father, you diminish us all. Do not punish the whole of man for the acts of one. We are a blessed people for but one reason. If you withhold our purpose, you condemn us all.”

  “Izadori, if you step one foot outside Mangladune, you will join your sister in exile.”

  “How could exile be any worse than the forest cage you have locked us within?”

  “You know the answer to that, my child. Removed from your brethren, you fade.”

  “I fade with them as well. As do you, Father.”

  Book One

  The Beginning…

  Chapter 1

  Jenevier

  (ZHEN-ah-veer)

  Moonlight spread across her face, glistening off the beads of sweat covering her brow. She stirred, mumbling muffled words into her feather pillow. A creaking noise came from the adjacent hallway… then again. Her deep blue eyes sprang open, frantically searching the darkened room.

  Is someone there? Where am I? Wha-what was I— Ugh… Not again.

  She sat up, releasing a heavy sigh.

  Jenevier had always been a wildly vivid dreamer. But life, this life, her life, had transformed her sleeping mind into a tumultuous torrent of fear and panic.

  Once, she had dreamt of enchanting, mythical creatures playing in the morning sunlight as it slipped through the tree tops to the dew-soaked glades below. Alas, those frolicking fairytale creatures from her youth had now been transformed into fanged demons and grotesque atrocities. Monsters—their wings dipped in blood, roaming the night, devouring all the innocence and bliss this world once held. She couldn’t quite grasp what had changed her lovely dreams so drastically. The answer seemed to be out there teetering on the very edge of consciousness, just beyond her reach.

  Sweet rest shall not visit me this night, she thought.

  Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she surveyed her quaint, moonlit room. Pillows were strewn about, covers mussed and partially off the bed. A book lay face down, its pages crumpled upon the floor—undeniable evidence of her restless mind.

  Opening the tiny drawer in her nightstand, she drew out the matches and stumbled to the kitchen.

  Her reflection appeared ghostly within those squared windowpanes. She stared absently out into the waning night as the first rays of the newly breaking dawn tried desperately to reach down and touch her peaceful little home.

  The keen whistle from the boiling teapot snapped her mind from its nebulous roaming.

  *****

  Letting her head loll back, Jenevier looked up into the expansive canopy of the ancient winslet tree that all but covered her side lawn. Sunlight was dancing across the emerald leaves, playing peek-a-boo with the breeze. This was her heaven. She closed her eyes and listened… listened to the gentle melodic bubbling of the tiny trickling stream. Listened to the soft creaking sound of the old weathered ropes as her favorite chair swung back and forth, wearing a remembered path into those mighty limbs overhead. She smiled.

  This is my favorite place in the whole world. My own little paradise.

  She was constantly amazed at just how perfect this place truly was. The dainty little cottage was surrounded by a deliciously fragrant flower garden. She would sit amongst the many-blooming lilies at dusk, drink in their deliciously intoxicating scent. The elegant garden wound around the house and sloped down the rolling hill, almost touching the edge of her sleepy little stream. Ahh, that stream. She loved it. Loved wading through it, loved balancing atop the smooth stones peaking up through the surface, loved uncovering its tiny hidden secrets. Playing in that stream was her secret joy, her child-like moment of the day. It was clear—ice cold and filled with life—carrying little creatures along its gentle current as it slid lazily behind her modest stables. Who could argue? This was paradise. A secret little haven of rest encompassed about by a magical looking forest sworn to always guard this little gem of a home.

  She was blessed, yes. Blessed with a peaceful happiness. Blessed with nature’s rare beauty. Blessed with calm, tranquil thoughts… until the dreams came.

  Breathing in the floral aroma of her steaming tea, Jenevier was morbidly captivated with the first tiny ray of morning light as it touched her swinging toe—in and out of the light, back and forth. She watched absently as the determined little beam grew to touch the top of her foot and then started its slow ascent up her outstretched leg.

  “In the light… in the darkness… in the day… in the night…”

  She watched the hungry little ray grab for her foot only to lose it once more to the shadows.

  “Horrid dreams,” she mumbled.

  Relishing in the glorious morning glow now spreading across her face, she let its nurturing warmth cover her a few moments more before she stood, turning toward the stables.

  Therein lives my heart.

  Her golden curls lost their sunlit glow when she swung wide the old wooden doors and entered.

  Raven was the first to respond. He ran toward her, anxiously awaiting her touch upon his majestic brow. This horse seemed always in tune with her emotions. She knew without knowing, their souls were connected in some strange way.

  Her mare, Epona, was a stunning beauty. She sparkled like spun gold. Crowned with a ghostly white mane and luxurious tail that fell fluidly to the ground, Epona was powerful and alluring. Holding her head aloft, she seemed to look down upon all other creatures.

  Jenevier loved Epona, yes, loved her madly. But for some odd reason, she didn’t share the same deep connection with the mare as she did with Raven.

  Raven… he was a creature unlike any other. A huge stallion, he boasted hair darker than a moonless night. This enchanting beast claimed a silken mane and tail so
black they flamed blue in the vibrant midday sun. He was a rare treasure indeed—ebony glory given breath by the gods.

  In her dreams Raven often came to her rescue, protected her from the horrors rampaging ferociously through her once quiescent world. Jenevier often carried on entire conversations with the horse. And… he seemed to listen. She was all but certain his deep black eyes welled-up with compassion and understanding.

  These majestic creatures were her life. They would never betray her, nor she them. She would protect them always… even unto death.

  “Come. Walk with me.”

  The three friends strolled out into the breathtaking brilliance of another perfect day.

  Epona immediately kicked up her heels, running large circles near the edge of the darkened tree line. Jenevier was captivated by the enchanting scene that golden horse made—shining wildly in the sun, shadowed by the forest. She smiled.

  “I wish to play by the river, Raven.”

  Placing her hand against his powerful neck, together they walked down the hill to the outmost edge of the western trees.

  As they strolled by the deep, still waters, she recounted what she could remember of her epically bizarre dreams.

  “I cannot recall the whole of it. My surroundings were blurred. But the demons were real, Raven. Well, as real as you can get in a dream. They were horribly vivid—ravaging about, destroying all the things I loved, all the things I treasured.”

  The horse snorted as he gently placed his forehead against her back, rubbing up and down her spine, nudging her along. She giggled.

  *****

  Jenevier spent the better part of that day soaking up the precious sun, tossing stones in the water. She would count the rolling ripples as they sloshed back against the bank, calling the numbers aloud as Raven tried to match them by tapping his hoof.