Road To Shandara (Book One of The Safanarion Order) (11 page)

“What are you doing to me,” Tarimus demanded becoming disoriented. Covering his face with his hands in a feeble attempt at denial he cried, “What sorcery is this!”

Truth.
Life. That which you’ve forgotten.
Aaron spoke the words in his mind and was in turn conveyed through the dance. The pure white light stretched out its brilliance to encompass all.

Shaking from the struggle within, Tarimus peeled his hands from his eyes and with a guttural roar he charged, his dark sword attempting to swallow the light.

Aaron stood his ground both blurring blades carried a motion too fast for his mind to track. Thinking at this point was an obstacle, it was his training and awareness unlocked through wielding the Falcons that saved him. The ability to let go, to trust his feelings and allow nature to take its course would determine this outcome. At last a final lesson preached by Reymius was understood, and no matter how hard he trained this lesson could not be learned in a sparring room. He engaged Tarimus, because there was no other choice, but in his heart he knew his fate lay with Tarimus upon these crossroads between the realms of Earth and Safanar, for Tarimus was the gatekeeper.

Each swing of the blade was countered and Tarimus howled in rage, but no matter how hard he pressed he couldn’t break through the bladesong. Tarimus at last broke off his attack. Although Aaron stopped the bladesong the power that gathered did not dissipate, rather it stayed with him heightening his perceptions.

“Your father never gave up on you,” Aaron said.

“Are you still trying to
save
me boy,” said Tarimus. “Don’t speak to me of that fool boy, I have no father,” Tarimus spat.

There was no audible snap within Aaron, but his thoughts and emotions coalesced with his own father’s demise. It was too fresh in his mind. Like thunder rumbling of a gathering storm, Aaron at last came for Tarimus. Aaron unleashed the power of the bladesong with each blow and Tarimus was thrown back unable to stand against such a force that went beyond the strength of his arms. Aaron’s blades cut him again and again, but no blood spilt forth from Tarimus. Their blades locked at the cross-sections and Aaron sent the dark blade spinning away. Sweeping out his leg Tarimus was brought to his knees. Aaron’s vision was hued in red with the blood rage, but he stopped poised to strike. He could strike Tarimus down with the power gathered and utterly destroy him, but he hesitated, something wasn’t right. If Tarimus dwelt between the realms of life and death then what could he possibly do? You can’t kill what should already be dead. He was battling a ghost. To destroy a soul was something he knew nothing about and if he did could he use that knowledge, even on Tarimus?

Yes!
A voice demanded.
Destroy him.

Tarimus, he realized was but a vessel through someone else’s machinations. A prisoner desperately seeking revenge on his jailer. All Aaron needed to do was win his way passed Tarimus.

“Colind spoke to me of Mactar. Is it he who holds you within this prison?” Aaron asked. “If I stop him will that release you?” he pressed.

Tarimus regarded him with a mix of contempt and surprise, then with a fluid motion he held his hand up and his sword flew to his hand seemingly of its own accord. Though the Coliseum’s occupants were silent their gaze was deafening. It was then that Tarimus sheathed his sword driving it home and a sense of finality filled the air. Aaron watched warily as Tarimus brought his hands together and a purple orb of crackling light gathered growing with intensity above his head. The medallion grew warm against Aaron’s chest.
Ferasdiam,
was spoken in hushed tones throughout the coliseum. The gong of a church bell rang in cadence banishing the whispers into silence. Zeus howled, eerily reminiscent of the night he first tapped into the power of the bladesong. The howl held a calling and Aaron wanted to heed that call. The columned stone doorway stood with its opening ajar, a shimmering curtain of silvery light blocking the view to the other side.

“I can settle it for both of us.” Aaron said focusing his gaze on Tarimus seeing him in a light other than a monster. Taking a few precious steps toward his pack where the cylinder glowed. He needed that cylinder if he was going to get to Safanar.

“What will
you
do in Safanar?” Tarimus asked.

“I seek those responsible for the murder of my family. They shall all pay, this
I swear
,” said Aaron in a harsh tone. “I will seek out Mactar.”

“Vengeance is the path of death. I am responsible for the deaths.” Tarimus paused turning his back to Aaron slowly shaking his head, the purplish orb hung between them. Aaron wondered what ghosts haunted this demon who had once been a man, Colind’s son. Tarimus abruptly turned toward Aaron and the words he spoke seemed reluctant to come out of his mouth, but his facial expression was oddly lucid.

“Perhaps you will succeed where I have failed,” pausing taking in Aaron’s measure. “But perhaps not,” he hissed and a menacing glint overtook his face. His arms rose and the purplish orb flared brighter. “I will have you scion of Shandara!”

Aaron barely had time to even flinch before the beam of light shot out of the orb slamming him in the chest. The beam split between the pearl in his medallion and the crystals in the hilt of his swords forming a blazing pyramid of deep purplish light. The medallion became the focus point and a blinding pain seared his chest bringing Aaron to his knees. With all his might he brought up his swords cutting off the beam sending it back to its source.

Tarimus stumbled back in shock, but before he could renew his attack Aaron scooped up his pack and sprinted towards the door to Safanar. Tarimus howled in rage behind him but Aaron didn’t dare turn back, the door to Safanar was his destination. He ran as if the ground were giving away beneath his feet, as if each step could be his last. Closing in on the door Aaron brought out the cylinder, its bluish glow gaining in intensity.

Aaron thrust the cylinder out and the shimmering silvery curtain parted and the stone doors began to close. He risked a glance back to Tarimus, but all he saw was the purple orb barreling toward him screeching louder as it drew in. With the stone doors closing and with Zeus beside him, Aaron leaped through the door to Safanar.

 
The coliseum and its mysterious occupants returned to their seats and as one stared into the space before them. A dismissal hung in the air and they were all swept away like sand blown away in a strong breeze. Tarimus remained there for a few brief moments, “So be it,” he whispered and disappeared.

***

The earth shook snatching the attention of its people, as it was foretold, the lords of Shandara would once again walk the lands of Safanar. Ferasdiam has left her mark upon him and he will be her champion, but the path would be of his choosing. A cold wind blasted its way bringing an ounce of relief from the scorching heat of the deserts of Deitmar to the far off plains of the Waylands. Deep in an ancient forest, well protected from the realms of men the old one stood. The wind carrying a strange scent swept his graying hair back. His eyes scanned the canopy of trees above. He is coming finally, and it set his mind at ease that Reymius did not fail in his task. The last of the ancient house of Shandara has returned. It was left to him to find Reymius's heir and keep him safe above all things even from himself. Let the forces of shadow be wary, the Hythariam will once again enter the world of men. His golden eyes flashed briefly while he took his first steps on what would be a long journey.

C
HAPTER
14

A HERO, A FRIEND

AARON COLLAPSED TO the earth writhing in pain. The burning on his chest intensified as he struggled to remove his shirt. Coming through the doorway was like plunging into icy waters, but without getting wet. The cold was so sudden that the air was sucked from his lungs. He squeezed his eyes shut hoping fervently that the pain would pass. Then his feet touched the ground and he drew in his first breath of air in gasps. All the pain from his stand off with Tarimus came crashing down bringing him to his knees. He took a few steadying breaths centering himself. Thunder rumbled and he looked up at the dome shaped ceiling covered with cobwebs. A shadow passed over an opening in the roof then sunlight streamed lazily in.

Aaron looked down at his chest expecting to see blistering skin but instead saw a perfect reproduction of the carved relief from the medallion. The dragon with his wings folded out holding a rose with the white pearl in the center. The pain subsided fading to a harsh burning ache. The brand was more like a tattoo rather than a burn, because it had a silvery shimmer reflecting from the dragon scales. With each breath he took it appeared as if the dragon was breathing.

The room was home to four statues that were equal distances apart like the points of a compass. A ray of sunshine coming in set the fountain in the center of the room ablaze and the water reflected the light in glistening waves dancing throughout. Aaron slowly got to his feet still getting his bearings, but his head wouldn’t stop spinning. He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, returning to the basics of life and the dizziness slowly faded. He made it, the fact that he was a long way from home kept at the forefront of his mind and he never felt so alone in all of his life. There would be no going home for him. He walked over to the fountain and eagerly dipped both his hands in for a drink and then filled the two metal water bottles from his backpack.

The statue on the far side of the temple caught his eye seeming to glow of its own luminescence. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but he ruled it out as he approached. The statue was of a man grand in size stretching towards the high ceiling. He was cloaked with the hood drawn back revealing a proud face that hinted of mirth. His right hand held the remnants of a staff whose broken heft would have went down to the floor. The pedestal upon which the statue stood was adorned with an intricate design of laurel work drawing the eyes to the center. Aaron traced his fingers across the patterns in an almost hypnotic state. His fingers glided along and the faint whisperings of the bladesong began to awaken within him urging him on. The center of the laurel work was indented and an idea sprang to his mind. Aaron reached for the medallion with his family crest and pressed it firmly into the indentation at the base of the statue. There was a faint audible click and the white pearl in the center began to glow. A stone doorway revealed itself off to the right and faint glowing orbs began to get brighter, lighting the pathway as the door finished opening. Aaron retrieved his medallion and whistled to Zeus, then went through the doorway.

The passageway sloped twisting to the left. His footsteps echoed his unhurried pace until he came to the end of the passageway, which opened into a large windowless room. Glowing orbs grew brighter as they spawned to life around the room. In the center was a long wooden staff driven into the rock floor and a black cloak hung from the top. Runes were etched along the length of the staff and a faint breeze toyed with the draping cloak. The musky air almost made him sneeze. Aaron stretched his hand out to the staff and as his fingers closed around, the runes flared to life. He tried to recoil his hand but he couldn’t.

“So the heir of Shandara of the house Alenzar’seth has returned.” A deep cavernous voice called out. “Do you dare claim my Rune Staff for your own?” the voice asked.

Aaron thought for a moment, “I just got here and the road ahead is long, please, I could use a good walking stick.” He said with half a smirk, but the words were sincere.

There was a moment of silence then a mirthful chuckle, “As did I when fate came knocking at my door young one.”

A ghostly apparition of an old man appeared before Aaron. The man had once been powerfully built, but now stooped with age. His eyes twinkled showing no signs of age at all. His bushy white brows moved as his face lifted into a smile. Something in his features seemed oddly familiar yet foreign at the same time.

“Uh...Hello,” said Aaron. “How do you know who I am and who are you?” He asked.

“I had a name once, but that was long ago,” the old man mused tiredly. “I am simply known as the Keeper. This staff can light the path of all, even amongst the darker places of the earth. And there are dark places you will be traveling to be sure. But know this, as with all things, there is a balance with the taking of this staff. To bring light invites the darkness to come take it from you.”

“I’m already hunted. Keep the staff,” Aaron said firmly beginning to step away.

“You don’t understand. This staff was meant for you as it was for me during my time. You cannot run from your destiny.” The old man insisted.

“I walk my own path,” said Aaron. “And I make my own destiny.”

The old man smiled in a knowing way, “Fate uses us all son. Failure to play in her game will cost you more than you know.”

Aaron unclenched his teeth, “It has already cost me.”

“Take the staff use it well in your journey that is all I ask. Ferasdiam has already marked you. Take with you another weapon to fight against the maelstrom arrayed against you. Think of it as a long lost family heirloom. ” As the old man said the last he faded away.

“Wait,” Aaron cried. “Who are you, please tell me your name,” he pleaded.

The silence hung in the air for a moment, but Aaron was sure that the Keeper was still there.

“My name once was Daverim Alenzar’seth, your ancestor. I too served the goddess once upon a time, and now I have a beloved whom I’ve kept waiting for far too long and a well-deserved eternal rest. Farewell and good luck.”

His ancestor
? What were the odds of that? This wasn’t at all what he expected. What should he have expected anyway? His life had been anything but normal since his grandfather died and a good deal more brutal. It was a bitter thought now, because of all the secrets that emerged from Reymius’s passing. He carefully removed the black cloak from the staff and put it on. Aaron had never worn a cloak before and it seemed to fit him well, not restricting his movements at all. His swords were well concealed on his hips and the cloak would make blending in with the people here easier or so he hoped. Donning his backpack Aaron reached out for the rune marked staff once again. At least his sister was safe. He had accomplished that much in coming here. He gripped the Rune Staff and easily pulled it from the ground. As the staff left the earth a vision of a glowing yellow reptilian eye seemed to lock onto him instantly. A mighty roar echoed in his mind as Aaron threw down the staff. He shook his head gasping, then stared at the staff lying on the ground. Zeus eyed him intently whining softly. Aaron looked back at Zeus bewildered.