Seers of Verde: The Legend Fulfilled: Book One (37 page)

COMING THE FALL

OF 2016

SEERS OF VERDE:

BOOK TWO

Excerpt from Book Two

Aron Nels hid in the branches of the giant fruit tree fighting to quiet his heavy breathing after the frantic chase. The attack had come so quickly, he barely had time to flee. The orchard keeper stood straight up in the crook of two heavy limbs, he flattened his back snug to the tree trunk. The heavy canopy of leaves and flowers hid him — for now.

After finally regaining control of his breathing, Aron cleared his mind. As sweat slowly trickled down his face, he concentrated on all the sounds and sights in his area.
A light breeze slightly swished the leaves around him. Bees and other insects flitted and buzzed among the flowers. A bird broke into a song in a nearby tree. All was as it should be.

What seemed forever but actually was only
several minutes later, a twig snapped nearby. The bird cut short its song and flew away.
Something moved through the underbrush near his tree. It stopped often, then continued slowly examining everything in its wake as if it was looking for something.

Aron knew what the hunter sought — him. This was the attacker who had ambushed him near the river. Somehow the assailant had tracked him to his hiding spot.
The orchard keeper begrudgingly admired the hunter. Not many could have followed his frantic escape as he sprinted in a zigzagging pattern through the trees.

The orchard keeper had done his best to elude the pursuer. He leaped over fallen logs and scuttled through heavy brush until he found a familiar, ancient tree that’s branches could support his weight.
However, now he could hear the searcher pace from tree to tree, looking for his prey. At each tree, the hunter clumsily scaled the lower branches. Finding nothing, he would drop back to the ground with a thud.

Aron followed the other’s progress. Finally, the assailant reached his tree. The branches shook as the other man scrambled up.
Moving slowly and quietly, Aron positioned himself directly above the other. Assuming he would have only one chance to strike, the orchard keeper poised in a ready-to-attack position.

The other man stepped out on a lower branch in attempt to better scan the upper branches. This was his chance.
Aron let his missile fly with tremendous force. Sensing movement from above, the pursuer moved with cat-like speed. But the large fruit still hit him, exploding after striking his shoulder, knocking him to the ground.

With a blood-curdling scream, Aron leaped from the tree to subdue his victim but found nothing when he landed on the ground. Out of the corner of his eye, a blurred shape shot toward his head, hitting him squarely in the face.

It was Aron’s turn to be knocked down. Before he could sit up, a foot pressed down on his chest, pinning him.
The two men stared at one another momentarily. Aron’s captor removed his foot and sat beside him smiling broadly, proud of his achievement.

“You’ll have to do better than a piece fruit to knock me down father,’’ Flyn Nels chuckled as he watched Aron sit up and clean the pulp off his face.

The elder Nels finally managed a smile.
“How did you find me so quickly? You don’t know the woods that well.’’

Flyn said nothing but let out a loud sniff and pointed to his father. “You were working very hard to escape father. You left a heavy trail of scent. I recognized your odor,’’ he said shrugging.

Aron raised his eyebrows questioningly.
“Scent?” he asked incredulously.

Flyn nodded matter of factly.
“On the ground, in the brush, even on some of trees where you must have stopped briefly. Why, are you looking at me so strangely?
You have told me you can smell rain coming when its hours away. I have seen you find a herd of grazer by smelling them from downwind.”

Aron shook his head in wonderment.
“I’ve never trailed prey by following scent like one of the predators.”
Trying to look stern, he grumbled, “You still sound like an old woman when you climb, son. You will never ambush prey if they hear you.’’

Flyn grinned, “That’s why I hunt the ravines and grasslands. I can see and smell the prey, plan my attack. Speed and a good aim with the bow will bring down most animals.’’

Tousling his son’s thick dark brown curly hair, Aron laughed, “Perhaps you are right, most of the grazers don’t run up trees when they’re being chased.”

Flyn laughed. “It would be quite a sight to see one of those fat grazers sitting in a tree, it would break all the branches.’’
Both men grinned at the amusing thought. Rising together, they sauntered back to the stream where Flyn initially “ambushed” his father by hurling a rotten windfall that exploded all over his back.

“Just in time, son, you can help me carry some of these fruit baskets back to the cabin,’’ Aron said.

Flyn grunted as he picked up one of the heavy baskets, “You will get your revenge on me yet.’’

“Can you stay for second meal?’’ Aron asked as they trekked toward the cabin with their loads of fruit. “Romal will be happy to see you.’’

An older man walked out the orchard, carrying more of the golden fruit.
“Why should I be happy to see this cub?” Romal growled. “He never comes around to help anymore now that he finally learned how to use a bow.”

Flyn sauntered up to Romal, “Good to see you, too, uncle,’’ he said slapping the older man on the back.

“Well, as long as you’re here, we might as well feed you,’’ Romal said, his eyes twinkling, revealing his good humor.

Flyn licked his lips, “Sounds good after the trip here, but it will have to be quick.”
The two other men looked at him questioningly.
Flyn looked away for a second then faced Aron.

“This is what I came to tell you father. The Tarylans have captured another Defender. A death duel will be held tomorrow, two hours after first light.

“I’m sorry father, I wanted you to hear it from me instead of some gossip who would have gotten the details wrong.
Uh, there’s one other thing,” he paused, looking embarrassed. “My hunter circle wants me to go with them to watch the duel. I’ve never seen a Defender before.”

Aron’s face paled at the news. Saying nothing, he snatched up his basket of fruit and stomped angrily toward the cabin.

Romal glared at Flyn.
“You know your father fought with the Defenders at Temple Darya, where he was wounded. He thinks one of them saved his life, dragged him to safety.”

Flyn looked down at the ground, scratching a line with his boot toe.
“I know how he feels uncle, but it’s a chance to see a real Defender. Perhaps this duel will be different.

“Maybe the Defender will defeat more Sankari than the last one did. That would make father happy.”

Romal shrugged as he picked up his basket.
“Yes, but they always kill the Defenders don’t they? How many of them have been killed so far?”

Flyn looked at his uncle, “This is the eighth one to have come forward.”

Romal looked surprised, “Eight already. That probably means only two are left. Those damn Sankari won’t be happy until all the Defenders are dead,’’ he said sadly as he followed his brother to the cabin.

Nothing was said during the meal. Aron concentrated on his food, angrily stabbing the pieces of meat as he ate.
Finishing, he pushed his plate away. Aron folded his hands together, his elbows were propped on the table.
“Why do you want to go?” he said in a low voice, not doing a good job of masking his anger.

Flyn met his father’s gaze.
“I want to see one of the heroes of our people you have told me about since I was a crawler.’’

Aron’s eyes narrowed, “Which side?”
Romal stopped eating but said nothing. He looked at his nephew questioningly.

Flyn looked up and smiled.
“Nuvan,” he said proudly. “My circle brothers all have Nuvan blood. Don’t worry father, I will cheer for the Defender.”

Aron rose slowly from the table looking very tired. He said nothing, but the sorrow his eyes told his son exactly how he felt.
Flyn rose to follow his father outside but stopped to squeeze his uncle’s shoulder.

“Next time, stay longer pup,” Romal growled good-naturedly. “We could use the help. Our backs aren’t as young as they once were.”

Flyn smiled, “I promise uncle.”
Aron did not look up when his son approached. He was busy rearranging fruit in small baskets, which would make for easier delivery to their customers. Without warning, Aron tossed two large golden apples to Flyn, who easily snatched them with both hands.

“Which one is the honey fruit?” Aron asked, testing his son.
Flyn felt both apples then carefully sniffed each one.
“This one,” he said holding the apple in his left hand triumphantly aloft as if it were a prize. A deep bite of the fruit confirmed his declaration.

Rising, Aron reached out taking Flyn’s face in his hands. Two sets of blue-green eyes stared into each other.
“Your Nuvan blood is strong son, always remember that.”

Father and son embraced, giving each other hearty pats on the back. “Don’t worry father, I’m sure the Defender will give a good account of himself in the arena.”

Aron allowed himself to smile, “May he send many Sankari to their ancestors.”
With a wave and a smile, Flyn turned and jogged steadily through the orchard.

Romal joined his brother on the porch to watch as Flyn disappeared into trees.
“You don’t have to worry about that one, he’s grown into a fine man. Why, he’s already a better hunter than you.’’

Aron snorted, giving Romal a strong brotherly shove.
“There’s more fruit to harvest or do you need a nap old man?” Aron said grinning.

“See if you can keep up for once,” Romal answered as he grabbed two large empty baskets and headed for the orchard.