Bonded: Book One of the ShadowLight Saga, an Epic Fantasy Adventure (33 page)

The first time Erik ever
saw her, he was six. She was five. She played with a sparrow in the Green,
chasing after the feathered creature. Emma would turn, laugh and run in the
other direction while the sparrow darted through the sky, spinning and chasing
her back. He had watched her game with the little bird for long moments, when
he decided to join in. He approached, but Emma was not watching where she was
going. Upon turning, she ran directly into him and they both tumbled to the
ground. Instead of getting angry, Emma had looked up at him with those giant
gray eyes and smiled. With a laugh, she had grabbed his hand and pulled him up
to play with her. From that moment forward, he had loved her.

“Lothar was powerful and
I thought he was the epitome of the Guardian—loyal, caring, strong and
protective. But, after our union, I began to unravel his secrets. He was a
caller, but also something darker. His dreams were plagued and on many nights
he would scream in his sleep. I tried to help. I was concerned my husband had
fallen into battle with the Shadow. I was right, but there was nei helping him.
He embraced the Shadow.”

“I’m sorry,” said Rolf.

“It was then he began to
use me. I guess he always did. I just did not see it for what it was. He
implored me in ways I could not refuse. His touch of the Shadow was as great as
my touch of the Mother. He convinced me we could bridge the gap between the two
if we worked together. We developed two dyrrs . . . ” Seretta paused when she
realized none of them understood what she spoke of. “A dyrr, it is the old
tongue for doorway. Through our combined touch, we designed two dyrrs that
would allow any who spoke the runes to cross through the shadowwalk.”

“You could go anywhere?”
asked Rolf.

“Anywhere except
Grimnear. Lothar insisted we make restrictions to protect ourselves. The
intention was that Glitner would finally see the usefulness of those touched by
the Shadow. Or at least that is what Lothar told me.
His
intention was
to bring armies of Conspirators through the doorways to destroy Glitner.”

“And that’s when you
ran?” Rolf slung his arm around Seretta’s waist as they walked, pulling her
into him.

“Ja,” she admitted. “But
divorce is a crime here. I could not report him because I played a part in his
betrayal of the Mother. I did not want to risk anyone abusing me for the power
of my touch again. So I hid. I suppose I am a coward.”

“Nei,” said Rolf,
tightening his grip on her. “You are a survivor.”

Ahead of them a wolf
howled. The cry echoed through the crisp air. Behind them, another wolf
returned the call. Almost immediately, howls rose on all sides.

“We must quicken our
pace.” Seretta started to jog. “Wolves hunt the Blakkrwood at Lothar’s control,
though I do not remember so many. He has gathered an army with these
creatures.”

“To the horses,”
commanded Erik.

Seretta’s eyes widened
at his statement.

“I will not let you
fall.” Rolf pulled her back to him, smiling down at her, his white teeth
showing themselves after days in hiding.

The dwarf struggled with
the reins of Rolf’s mare, the white snorting and hoofing the ground at the
sound of the wolves. Andvarri willingly let Rolf take over as Rolf hoisted
Seretta to the mare’s back, clambering up after her.

Erik grabbed the dwarf
and pushed him onto Beyla while Andvarri protested, “I am not such an invalid. I
can mount a horse on my own.”

Erik ignored him,
shoving the little man onto the mare’s croup then jumping up in front of him. The
yowls increased, turning to yips and growls, as Rolf and Erik kicked their
mounts into a gallop.

Seretta, pressing her
body back into Rolf’s grip, yelled back to Erik, “There’s a cave at the base of
the hill. If we can get there, we can defend against the wolves.”

She pointed toward a
hill in the distance. The mountain jutted up out of the spikes of dead trees, a
massive mound of rock and dirt. Nothing lived within the crags, but a huge
stone structure jutted outward from the cliff face. Square stones defied their
position as they poked from the mountainside, forming a dismal looking
castle—dull walls spiking into towers against the lifeless backdrop of rock.

A horde of wolves
appeared on their heels, eyes yellow lights against the darkening sky. Beyla’s girth
labored underneath them. At the sight of the predators, Andvarri squeezed Erik so
hard he thought the little man would crush his lungs. The pack gave chase,
lunging forward with split mouths and canines dripping saliva.

Frost sprayed Erik’s
face as they raced behind Rolf’s white mare. Andvarri let loose his grip to
grope for something inside his waist pack. Within a moment's passing, a boom
resounded. Erik chanced a glance backward. The dwarf threw little balls from
his pack. The orbs hit the ground, exploding in front of the wolves, snow and
dirt flying. The creatures dodged in and out behind them, but continued their
onward attack.

*****

A bang from outside
captured Emma’s attention and she rushed toward the window. She peered through
the smudged glass, trying to find the cause, but could not see anything more
than a blur of shapes barreling through the dimness of the frozen forest below.
Closing her eyes, she communicated with the polecat.

Whitefoot. Spy on
Lord Lothar. See what's the matter.

The polecat unraveled
himself from Emma’s hair and scurried down her silver-blue dress to the floor. He
hopped back and forth with excitement for a moment before dashing forward and
squeezing through the space between the slate floor and door. Though Grimnear
did not possess the complicated runes of Holyfell, Lothar kept Emma’s chambers
locked with iron bolts from the outside, stating her confinement was for her
own safety.

Emma sent one last
thought to the polecat as he disappeared.

Be careful Whitefoot.
Do not let the lord discover you.

I am too clever for his
slow wits
, replied the polecat,
and Emma’s face spread in a smile despite the fact she wore her wedding dress.

Emma returned to the
window and waited, staring outward. She caught her reflection in the dark glass.
Her eyes took on a melancholy even she did not recognize. Her hair had been
piled high on top of her head. Ringlets escaped and sprayed over her neck and
down her back. The dress clung to her as all the others she’d worn since
arriving in these strange lands did, but this one shone with silver throughout,
making it shimmer with every movement she made.

In these last days, she
had wracked her mind for a solution to help those she loved, and still nothing
came until today, when Lothar announced she would be prepared for their union. She
did not know how to escape, so she had dressed, hoping at some point before her
delivery to Lothar she would find a way to break free and make a run for it.

Within the long,
sleepless nights she had made connection with the wolves swarming Castle
Grimnear. They feared her at first, but Emma realized their trepidation sprung
from their lack—lack of food, lack of security, lack of comfort.

Whitefoot entered her
mind.

Intruders,
he said.
The lord calls one Erik. He’s
furious he is here. He has called the wolves to corner and destroy him, but to
save the woman who travels with them. He is confused about the woman—angry and
eager at the same time.

Erik!
Emma spun from the window, covering her mouth
with her hands to control a squeal.
Are you sure?
She held her breath,
waiting for Whitefoot’s confirmation.

An image of Lothar
speaking Erik’s name to his wolves bloomed in her head.

Emma’s heart thudded. Her
breath quickened.

Come back to me
Whitefoot,
she said.

Another image shot
through her mind—the polecat scrambling along the corridor, slipper adorned
feet giving chase, a waxy hand grabbing and squeezing. Then nothing. Her mind
went blank.

Whitefoot!
Emma called to him, but the polecat did not
reply.

Whitefoot!
she cried again.

Not a single image
filled her mind. Her chest tightened, as her mind worked frantically.

Think, Emma, think.
She told herself.
I have to act now!

Emma closed her eyes,
pressing them shut as she called to the pack of wolves outside Castle Grimnear.

The guttural growl of
wolves reverberated through the doorway of the dyrr. As Hallad exited the rift
caused by the medallion, he tightened his cloak around him, against the icy
air, and spotted the pack pinning its unseen prey against the base of a cliff. The
creatures’ hackles spiked, engorging their size. He drew his swan sword to
defend against them as Rota, carrying Swan, Olrun, Jorn, Ase, and Gisla
appeared behind him. The rest of the Lion Clan had been left behind so their
small party would risk less notice. Ase had insisted on traveling with them,
arguing she was needed to ensure Swan's care, and towed Gisla along, claiming
the apprentice as a necessary companion. Hallad hadn't agreed, citing they
should remain safe in the Palace but conceded when Ravenna maintained that a
priestess would be a necessary ally.

As the opening blinked
out of existence, Hallad realized the dyrr delivering them to this spot had
been a trap. When he had concentrated on his desired destination before
departing Glitner, he had envisioned himself inside Grimnear, but he could not
hold the thought, always blocked by darkness. The secondary endpoint outside
the castle seemed suitable, until now.

Jorn, Olrun and Rota
readied their blades. Rota balanced Swan on her shoulder as she took position
with Olrun. Jorn waved the priestess and her attendant behind them, but the
wolves remained trained on their target.

An explosion hit the
pack. Ice, dirt and rock streamed through air, separating the wolves momentarily.

Hallad glimpsed Erik’s
face through the parted beasts and screamed out, “Erik!”

Erik jolted at the
sound, seeking Hallad across the distance.

Hallad could not read
his expression—certainly startled, but relieved? Glad? At Hallad’s call, a wolf
swiveled its enormous head around, hackles raised, canines piercing through
pulled up lips. The creature stared at him, eyes glinting against the darkening
sky. Then the beast raised its head skyward and yowled, its call resounding
through the deadened forest surrounding them.

Branches cracked in
reply, a brittle break in the night. Canine bodies entered Hallad’s line of
sight, masses of shadows low to the ground, tearing in from every direction. More
wolves sped toward the group, pads pounding against ice.

Rota placed Swan on the
ground, while Ase and Gisla hovered over her. The warriors formed a tight
circle around Swan, Gisla and the priestess, as the onslaught washed over them.

Wolves sprang from the
dark, leaping through the air, meeting their swords. Though the creatures fell,
more replaced the initial wave, until each of the warriors fought off several
of the beasts at a time. The wolves' jaws lunged, grabbed, and ripped at their
arms and legs as the warriors continued to fight.

“Stand back!” Ase’s
voice commanded over the tumult.

Hallad chanced a glance
backward, giving a wolf the opportunity to pummel through the air, smacking
into Hallad’s chest and sending him onto his back.

A man appeared in the
center of their circle, his skin white as wax, his hair the color of winter's
frost. Two wolves flanked him, growling at Ase. Rota and Olrun rounded in
unison, but more creatures leaped from the dark, dragging them downward. Jorn,
struggling with two of the beasts on each arm, rushed forward, but the weight
of the wolves sent him to his knees.

From his appearance out
of thin air, Hallad assumed the man was none other than Lothar. The lord
gestured with a slight flick of his wrist and the two animals at his side
lunged, taking Ase and Gisla with them to the ground.

Gisla screamed, but Ase
hit the ground with a silent thud.

 Lothar stepped over
Swan, peering down at her, examining her.

As the lord reached his
hand downward, the two wolves pinning the priestess and her attendant raised
their heads. Their ears flicked. Their eyes shot upward, toward the tower. In
another breath, the rest of the army of beasts repeated the action. A whimper
broke through them as their hackles dropped, tails folding under them.

Lothar growled a deep,
rasping noise. The pack stiffened, unable to look toward him and he snarled
again, this time barring his teeth.

 “Do not defy me!” he
yelled. “You obey me, not her!”

But his creatures
lowered their heads, turned tail and scampered back into the forest, leaving
the lord alone. Hallad lifted himself from the ground, scrambling to attack
Lothar, but the lord disappeared into the air faster than a blink.