EPIC: Fourteen Books of Fantasy (108 page)

“If you spill his blood in vengeance, you open yourself to the Shadow.”

“I do not care the cost!” spat Erik in reply. His hand trembled in rage, tightening against the hilt of his short sword.

“Erik, the price is your soul,” reasoned Hallad. “Do not do this thing. We will bring him to justice. We will deliver him to Glitner where he will be punished for his crimes.”

“The only justice for him is death!” Erik heaved his short sword back, gaining momentum for the kill. A smile spread Lothar’s lips, his eyes slithering with pleasure as his form began to dissolve into the stone behind him.

If Lothar escapes through the shadowwalk, Erik will pursue him. You will not be at full strength in the walk as I will have to deliver us both and I do not know if I am even capable of such power.

Hallad realized his sister suggested they kill Lothar before he fled, even though she did not say the words. His chest thundered at the implication. He had never taken a mortal life. His quick eyes took in Emma sobbing on the ground then Erik, his temples bulging with angry veins as his short sword penetrated the waxy skin of Lothar’s fading neck.
 

I am the Guardian
, he thought as his mind hit a resolve.
 

Sister, I will not let you bare the consequence alone. The burden belongs to us both.

Swan’s blue-black eyes met his own, holding him. She tipped her chin, acknowledging their decision. Within a blink, her body vanished and reappeared next to Lothar. Lothar’s form struggled to fade into the Shadow, but Swan’s own emerging figure met his, blocking his escape into the void. She strained against him. Hallad felt the man’s power through his connection to his sister. Swan could barely contain him.

Hallad hefted his swan sword like a javelin, over his shoulder, the polished silver catching the orangey-red of firelight. The weight of the sword pressed his arm tight over his collarbone as he extended his elbow into the air. With a heave, he sent the blade flying, whisking past Erik, thudding directly into Lothar’s chest.

Erik, unable to act faster than the twins, watched as a crimson spray released from Lothar, and the man’s head lulled backward. Erik released his grip on Lothar’s shoulder, as the lord’s dead form fell to the ground.
 

No rage existed as Erik turned and stared into Swan’s eyes.

“Why?” he asked, the anger and fury sputtering out, his features relaxing with relief.

“I owed you,” said Hallad. He gestured toward Swan as her words became his own. “We owed you.”

The flood in Erik’s eyes told Hallad all had been forgiven.
 

Instinctively, Erik sought Emma, still huddling in the corner with the limp polecat in her arms. Her wide gray eyes streaked with red, caught Erik’s wild green. He ran, bent and slid to her, reaching for her face with his fingers, exploring her cheeks and lips, as if making sure she existed. They embraced, their lips seeking one another, hungry for confirmation of their reality.

Hallad turned to Swan, still standing over Lothar’s slack body. He reached out for his sister, gesturing her to him. She came and sunk into his embrace.

Brother,
Swan said.
I do not know what doorway to the Shadow our actions opened this night.

Hallad squeezed her, feeling her skin upon his as an extension of his own.
 

Whatever may come, sister, we will face it together.

Chapter L

“I
CANNOT
GO
WITH
YOU
. Glitner will not welcome me.” Wisps of Seretta’s amber hair lifted in the breeze as they stood before the gates to Glitner.

“I understand,” said Hallad. “Know we are thankful for all you’ve done.”

“Thankful?” Emma bounded into Seretta, wrapping her arms around the woman’s neck.
 

Seretta stumbled back, teetering to regain her composure.
 

“More than thanks, brother! Seretta, you have my most sincere appreciation for as long as my heart beats. If not for you . . . ”
 

A pink nose popped out from the cascade of Emma’s sun-kissed hair, sniffing the songvari. Emma giggled.
 

“Whitefoot gives his deepest thanks for mending his back, too,” said Emma, turning her smile on Rolf. “And you!” She leapt from Seretta to Rolf, hugging him as high up as she could reach, burying her head into his chest. “Rolf, I am awestruck at your ability. You are truly a scald and a craftsman extraordinaire.”

Rolf flushed at Emma’s words. He shifted his gaze to Seretta, holding her eyes in silent gratitude. The sparks in his eyes hinted that more than gratefulness for Seretta ignited inside him.
 

Erik caught sight of his brother’s look.
 

“Go with Seretta, brother.”

Rolf shook his head. “Nei. My place is with you.”

“You’ve stood in my shadow for too long, now. It’s time you find your own happiness, Rolf.”
 

The younger brother hesitated.
 

Erik directed a question to Seretta. “And you will keep my little brother safe from those who seek to exploit the touch of the songvari?”

Seretta nodded, but Rolf interrupted.
 

“Brother, I am a man. I can protect myself.”

“You are a fool with a loose tongue and a big heart who is continually looking for trouble.”

“Ja, but you are the trouble I always find.”

Erik’s angled features broke into a grin. He extended his right arm and grabbed his brother’s shoulder with a tight grip.

Emma, still hugging Rolf, said, “I’ll miss you.”

Rolf whispered back, “He can be a handful, but I’m counting on you to keep him in line.”

Emma reached for Erik’s arm, tugging him into Rolf’s embrace. While the three said their goodbyes, Seretta plucked Hallad’s tunic, gesturing for him to follow her a few paces away from the others.

“Glitner will seek to use you and your sister for their own motives.”

“I figured as much,” said Hallad, nodding in agreement.

“The Palace will have a particular interest in Erik given his ability in the shadowwalk is the strongest known aside from, perhaps, your sister’s. But Erik has none of the Mother’s touch to keep him from the Shadow. Their means of manipulation will not be gentle. And Emma. It is not any caller who can single-mindedly call off a pack of hungry wolves under the control of another caller. She will be of interest to them as well.”

Hallad nodded his understanding.
 

After Seretta’s warning the songvari turned, gathering Rolf to her side. Rolf hoisted her into Idunn’s saddle and mounted behind her, clutching her about the waist. He kicked the white into a gallop. They sped across the meadow, heading away from the wash of predawn light rising opposite of their destination.

A glow of warmth settled upon the rest of the travelers as the sun rose, casting a pink tint upon the glistening gates of Glitner. Hallad gathered everyone’s weapons, stowing them in his mantle and tying them to the cantle of Erik’s black.

They entered into Glitner as the sun glided higher in the sky, sending beams of light down through the clouds, casting curtains of pinkish-white to the ground below.

“The Guardian,” said someone from the crowd, as they traveled the path to the Palace.
 

Glitner’s residents piqued at the word, gathering to view the group heading toward the towers.

“The Svenna!” exclaimed another, as they spotted Swan. She still wore the white robes, fluttering behind her like the wings of her elegant namesake. As usual, she towered over the bystanders, her outward appearance like a blade of iron—strong, sleek and unbreakable, but her bunched nerves crackled underneath her skin as the onlookers crowded into them.

After a wave of silence, a cheer rose amongst the people of Glitner.
 

“Svenna! Svenna! Svenna!”
 

The chant extended to include “Guardian! Svenna!” as the twins, trailed by the drengmaers, Jorn, Erik and Emma, Ase, Gisla and Andvarri made their way across the sleek stone of the roadway.

Ravenna emerged at the top of the road. The distinct mark of the raven on her cheek, her dark hair shining with mahogany highlights against the starkness of her clothing and her robed Norns close on her heels, gave her the air of royalty. At the sight of the First Walker of the Norns, apprehension inundated Hallad as he sensed his sister’s nerves jangle.
 

Suddenly, Swan’s bell-like tone burst into Hallad’s mind.

The sky is dark and the hills are white

As the storm-king speeds from the nordr to-night;

And this is the song the storm-king sings,

As over the world his cloak he flings:

“Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep;”

He rustles his wings and gruffly sings:

“Sleep, little one, sleep.”

What is the song you sing, sister?
asked Hallad.

A lullaby. Our mother sang it to us when we were babes, and I would sing it over the seasons to calm my nerves. I had nei idea you could hear me by the cove. None had ever heard me before, except within the dream.

“Our bond is strong,” said Hallad aloud.

Swan smiled, but her muscles continued to tighten beneath her skin. Hallad could barely discern between his own tension and hers, as if she was an extension of his body.

There is so much I need to tell you brother—of my past, of our mother. And I worry for what is to come.

Ravenna approached, stopping a few paces away. The crowd continued their cheer as the First Walker of the Norns curtsied before Hallad and Swan. The blackness of the raven glistened like feathers in the early morning light.

There is time, sister,
said Hallad.
We have our time now.

Swan pressed against Hallad’s side. He reached out and wrapped his arm around her shoulder as they walked forward, side by side, and the song once again bloomed inside his head.

On yonder mountain-side a vine

Clings at the foot of a mother pine;

The tree bends over the trembling thing,

And only the vine can hear her sing:

“Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep;

What shall you fear when I am here?

Sleep, little one, sleep.”

- - HERE ENDS BOOK ONE OF THE SHADOWLIGHT SAGA - -

Afterword

M
ANDE
M
ATTHEWS
IS
THE
AUTHOR
of the
ShadowLight Saga
and the mini-series
Queen's Honor
. While attending a performing arts college for writing and arranging, Mande discovered Joseph Cambell's
Masks of God
series. Her desire to understand humanity through myth and legend mingled with her love of fantasy fiction, birthing her life-long quest to create original new worlds for readers. A hermit at heart, Mande recedes into the realms of imagination where she occasionally surfaces to face the real world aided by her minions: a husband who plays the dog drum (the belly of their border collie), and a menagerie of furred, feathered, and mostly magical friends.

You can sign up for her email list to receive a free ShadowLight Short story at:
http://mandematthews.com/contact

Or visit her website at:
http://mandematthews.com/

The
ShadowLight Saga
currently contains:

The Light Keepers
, A Short Story Prequel, available for free at most ebook retailers

Bonded
, Book One of the ShadowLight Saga

Broken
, Book Two of the ShadowLight Saga

Coming Soon: Two ShadowLight Side Adventures and the final book to the trilogy. For latest updates, visit Mande Matthew's website.

mandematthews.com/contact

twitter.com/MandeMatthews

www.facebook.com/MandeMatthewsAuthor

T
HE
S
ORCERY
C
ODE
: V
OLUME
1

Dima Zales

Prologue

I
N
THE
VASTNESS
OF
ITS
realm, a spark of thought tried to cling to consciousness. A new being, it wasn’t sure what consciousness meant, but it desired that state. It wanted to think, to ponder its existence. Who was it? Why was it there?

The being knew that it had limited time to dwell on these questions. The visions were about to begin again—the visions that shaped it and, at the same time, frustrated it. These visions never gave the being a reprieve. Never gave it a chance to contemplate its strange reality.

In the visions, everything was simple. The being knew things. It was usually a
she
—though on occasion, it experienced being a
he
, too. It knew who it was, even though every time it was someone different. Inside these visions, the world was easy. Understandable. But it was just an illusion. Outside these visions was the being’s reality. The reality of not knowing, not understanding. The world outside the visions was starkly different from the world inside.

And now another vision seemed to be approaching.

The being prepared itself, knowing it would lose consciousness again.