Road To Shandara (Book One of The Safanarion Order) (6 page)

BOOK: Road To Shandara (Book One of The Safanarion Order)
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Aaron soon followed her and was locking the door to the stables when he noticed Bronwyn heading towards the sparring room. There was something in the way she moved that didn’t seem quite right, leaving an icy feeling sliding down to the pit of his stomach. He watched her pause at the door then, she turned abruptly and stared directly at him. The lifeless stare of depthless black eyes was like a blow that stole his breath. She flashed a bitter smile and went inside.

He stood there rooted in place.
Tarimus!
He sprinted to the sparring room, but as he came up to the door he stopped. He didn’t want to foolishly charge in. How did this happen? Tarimus only invaded his dreams until now. He stepped cautiously through the door into the darkness beyond. Aaron reached over and flipped the light switch, but the lights wouldn’t come on. It was so cold he could see his breath.
It’s the middle of June!
He halted just inside the door and looked back at his Jeep where his swords were nestled behind the backseat when he heard a voice call his name tauntingly.

“Aaarrronnn, come on inside Aaron.”

Aaron took a few steps inside and saw her standing before the fountain between the twin rose columns. She looked like Death’s Mistress with her skin pale as moonlight, and lifeless black eyes regarding him coldly. She held a long black staff, resting one end on the floor.

“Leave her out of this Tarimus,” Aaron warned.

Tarimus’s sinister laugh escaped Bronwyn’s lips leaving their voices juxtaposed sending shivers down his spine. Her beautiful face twisted into an evil cast. “Or what Ferasdiam marked, will you hurt me?” He laughed and leaped forward.

Aaron took a step back in spite of himself, “I won’t fight you like this.”

Bronwyn brought the staff up, “That’s good. All you have to do now is die!” Tarimus screamed.

Bronwyn launched herself towards him quicker than he thought possible raining down blows as she came. Aaron scrambled out of the way of the whirling staff. Her attacks came so fast that he didn’t have time to think. All his efforts were to avoid being hit as he began to maneuver around the room. He never took the attack to her, he would never do that and Tarimus must have known it. He must find a way to free Bronwyn but how?
Think!
Then an idea sprang to mind. He broke down the rhythm of attacks quickly in his mind and began grinning whenever Tarimus missed. Then he deftly caught the staff and locked his grip around it.

“What’s the matter Tarimus? Can’t you hit me?” Aaron sneered, smiling wolfishly, then shoved the staff back.

Tarimus howled in rage and attacked in earnest. The dance ensued between them taking them the length of the sparring room. The staff whirling in an exquisite medley of attacks that would have killed him had his grandfather not spent hours training him.

The goal here is not to fight, but to keep others from harming you and themselves. A true master can prevent both someone from hurting you and keep harm from coming to your opponent as well.

He never appreciated that lesson until now.

Aaron laughed as he avoided the staff. With each miss Tarimus’s rage grew. It wasn’t inherently obvious but something kept nagging at the back of his mind. Tarimus possessing Bronwyn’s body to try and kill him didn’t make sense. Why her when he could have possessed any number of people throughout the day and strike out when he would have least expected it. They were just alone...unless...

Aaron stopped abruptly as a piece of understanding clicked into place. He caught the staff again while looking into those nightmarish black eyes and tossed it aside. “You’re not trying to kill me.” Aaron stated.

Tarimus’s lips curled icily as a game master regards a pawn.

“What do you want from me?” Aaron asked.

Tarimus seemed to pause considering. His gaze drew downward then in a juxtaposed voice of his and Bronwyn’s whispered. “You couldn’t possibly imagine what I want or what I will take from you.”

The remaining warmth fled the room as Bronwyn turned and casually walked over to the wall, grabbed a short sword hanging among the rack of weapons and turned to face him. She brought her eyes up slowly, smiled, and in one fluid motion plunged the sword into her stomach.

Aaron caught her as she collapsed to the floor, her nightmarish eyes returning to normal. She looked at him in confusion and pain. The sword clanged on the floor dropping from her bloodied hands. Aaron laid her gently on the floor, tore off his shirt and tried to stop the blood. This can’t be happening!

“Bronwyn you’re going to be okay,” he pleaded as her eyes shut. “No!”
This is all my fault.
She let a gasp of air and breathed no more. Aaron withdrew deep inside a gathering rage that went beyond rational thought. A black void of rushing nothingness propelled him forward until the utter denial that Bronwyn was dead came to the forefront of his mind.

He drew deep into his core and his awareness for the world sharpened. The barriers fell away, but understanding still remained a breath away. A mighty force built within him and remained clouded in mystery.
What am I supposed to do?
He sank into despair still holding Bronwyn’s lifeless body, his eyes locked shut. The medallion warmed against his chest spreading through his arms and legs. He opened his eyes and took in the shambles of the once proud training room, remnants of the battle that raged just moments before. His gaze drew downward to fall upon Bronwyn’s lifeless body he still clutched. An icy wind blew into Aaron sucking the air from his lungs. Bronwyn’s eyes opened revealing sinister black eyes and with a sudden heave he pushed her body away from him. He scrambled to his feet watching in horror as the thing that he thought was Bronwyn slowly rose. A shimmering purple glow emanated from it flashing in waves of darkness until Aaron could see it no more. The ferocious howl of the wind rattled the windows until they shattered.

The glass fragments were sucked into the black void. Bolts of deep purple lightening flared brilliantly coalescing until a beam struck Aaron full in the chest. The force of the blow cleared him through the windows but held him firmly off the ground.

Aaron reeled in pain that rattled his bones and every second of agony he felt as if his life was being drained from him. Somewhere amidst the pain he felt the medallion burn into his chest. With tremendous effort he closed his mind to the pain. The raw energy of the bladesong drew up mightily from within, enclosing him in an azure glow. The pain didn’t subside, instead it rose in ferocity threatening to break his will, but his connection to the orb of blackness began to waver.

A hand reached inside his shirt, grabbed the medallion and thrust it directly into the light. The medallion flared to life blazing and the pain melted away from him. A gong sounded from without and then everything went still.

Aaron looked up and saw his mother standing over him with the medallion thrust forward like a talisman then everything went dark.

C
HAPTER
8

FAMILY CREST

HE WOKE UP in a bed and swallowed the dryness out of his mouth. He didn’t know how long he slept, but became increasingly aware of his aching body which voiced its protest as he sat up. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes he realized he was in the guest bedroom at his grandfather’s house. Candles were lit and their soothing glow seeped their warmth into Aaron. Sitting in the chair opposite the bed was his mother. She had the Falcons resting in her lap as she ran her fingers methodically over the engraved blade and pommel.

“Next time perhaps you should keep these a little closer,” she said looking up at him.

“Thanks, I’ll try to remember that,” Aaron answered coolly. He felt a presence in the room, a lingering sensation that seemed familiar and yet he didn’t question how he knew something was watching them, he just felt it.

“Are you okay?” Carlowen asked placing her hand on his arm.

“No I’m not okay," Aaron blurted out. “Ever since
he
died nothing has been the same. Things keep happening to me.” He struggled trying to find the words and then scanned the room. “Things are getting so out of control and I don’t know how to stop it. I don’t know what to do. I feel as if there is a trap closing in all around me.”

There was no need to identify who
he
was, but the recent revelations about her life, like her son, left her grasping for a handle on the moment herself. It seemed as if Safanar had finally caught up with them and it left her feeling angry and resentful. Such an evil so great in its wrath that it could reach across worlds to hunt her son down could only mean one thing. Fate was calling her son to return to Safanar. Why else would the power that had been in their family for generations begin to stir within him? Fate was calling him. She took a breath and looked into her son’s expectant eyes that demanded an answer, for there was no one else left.

“I’m not sure…” she started, “We are from another world called Safanar. A year before you were born we were forced to flee our home. Your grandmother sacrificed herself so that we could get free and you would have a chance to grow into a man. She knew I would bear a son who would one day return. Your grandfather almost never spoke of her because the pain of her passing was always with him. The price of her death afforded us the protection that we needed so desperately, but is now gone with his passing. He came to accept that it would eventually catch up to us and that he would not be able to protect us any longer. He was named Keeper of the Faiths and given the Falcons to pass to you for whom they were meant to serve.”

The words from his grandfather’s letter flashed like fire in his mind,
“There are things about me that I have never told you, about both my past and where your true home is.”

Aaron shook his head, “How is it that you know all this now, but not before?”

His mother regarded him calmly and pointed to the medallion resting on his chest. “When I saw our family crest again it was like a long forgotten world awakened within me.”

Aaron traced his fingers along the foreign symbols that surrounded the white pearl in the center. The carved relief of a dragon cradling a single rose caught the candle light and danced mysteriously with the shadows.

“Mother, who is Tarimus?” his question didn’t quite catch her off guard as he expected, but her breath did catch in her throat and a look of fear flashed through her eyes.

“He is a demon sentinel cursed to roam between the world of the living and the world of the dead. He is what stands between you and Safanar. It is he that hunts you.”

“Safanar,” said Aaron standing up. “I’m not going to Safanar.” He stood there for a moment collecting his thoughts, “He seems more like an assassin, but even that isn’t right. He wants something otherwise why wouldn’t he just try to kill me and be done with it? With every encounter he seems more powerful. I don’t know how to face him.”

Carlowen regarded her son helplessly. She stood slowly and resolutely walked over to him and held out the Falcons. “He needs you to be strong before he feeds upon you. Only then can he claim the power bestowed upon our family for himself.”

“What am I supposed to do with those?”

“Keep them with you. You’ve keyed them,” she said. “What happens when you wield them in the dance?”

“I feel as if the life force of everything around me gathers itself into me. I feel invigorated with the intensity of a gathering storm. I can sense the life force of all around me, filling me, but I can do that now without wielding the Falcons.” He paused for a moment, “There’s music when I wield them and although I’ve never heard it before I know the song is mine, it’s part of me.”

Aaron recounted everything that happened since his grandfather’s death. He left nothing out and watched as his mother’s face became paler with the telling of the tale. “I feel so alone,” he finished.

 
“Son you’re not alone. Not ever.” A firm voice said from outside the room.

The candles in the room flickered and the bedroom door opened slowly as his father stepped in. His parents shared a look and something unspoken passed between them. Then he walked up to Aaron and gripped his shoulder firmly. “No matter what happens son we will stand by you," he said firmly.

Aaron was comforted by his father’s words, but nothing would change the fact that he would have to face Tarimus alone. Something kept gnawing at the back of his mind, a frustratingly elusive point that he was missing.
Bronwyn!

“I have to go. I think he’s taken Bronwyn.” Aaron said.

“You don’t know that Aaron.” Carlowen said. “He will try to confuse you. Use all that you love against you. He is a monster.”

“You’re right, but I need to find out. I need to know if she’s ok. If he has her…” His words trailed off with a shiver. Then he rushed from the room without a backwards glance.

***

Colind watched Reymius’s daughter and her husband from the shadows beyond the candlelight. He could tell that Carlowen’s husband had a genuine quality about him that he knew Reymius approved. He was a good man. It was the tragedies that befell good men that made him truly sick at heart and on a night like tonight…He could smell blood in the air. Death was coming this night, it was just a matter of when and where.

***

Aaron barely lifted his foot off the gas pedal and neither the screech of tires, nor blasts of horns swayed him. All fell upon deaf ears as Aaron made his final turn down Orchid street. Red lights flashed above two police cars parked in front of Bronwyn’s house and his heart sank to his stomach.

Slowly, almost mechanically he approached the house fearing the truth before his eyes. He was too late. Neighbors gathered on the sidewalks speaking in hushed tones. He turned and looked up at the giant bay window of Bronwyn’s house and for a moment Tarimus’s cold dead eyes stared back at him sending an icy drip to the pit of his stomach and the medallion grew cool against his skin.

“Is she dead?” Someone asked.

“They don’t know. The ambulance just left. The daughter came home acting strange and started screaming frantically. “The Day of reckoning is coming, you can hide no longer”, over and over again she kept screaming it. Then she took off. The police are looking for her.”

BOOK: Road To Shandara (Book One of The Safanarion Order)
5.92Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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