Heir of Shandara (Book 4) (3 page)

Isaac, a former Elitesman who was a leader among the Resistance in Khamearra, had taken it upon himself to help watch over and keep track of the former Elitesmen to ensure they were staying in line. Isaac’s efforts had proven invaluable, but after many long discussions with leaders of the FNA it was decided that the most troublesome cases came to Aaron. He insisted that he get a chance to work with them before they were to be imprisoned or executed.
 

Gavril, who had been a colonel in the Hythariam military over a hundred years before Aaron had been born, had more than a few ideas as to how to handle those men. They were given a chance to serve within a specialized force of the FNA that was headed up by Verona and himself. Having a group of highly skilled and lethal fighting men and women earned them the riskiest of missions. Within their specialized force was a group of soldiers that were extremely loyal to Aaron, which helped with those who would get it into their head to test their mettle against the famed scion of Shandara.

“Sarik is in position,” Verona said.

Aaron nodded, expecting nothing less. The young man threw himself into everything that came his way until he mastered what was taught.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something, my friend,” Verona said.

“Now?” Aaron asked with a slight grin. “Oh, is this about Iranus?”

Verona wiped his hand across his brow and frowned. “I swear he doesn’t like me at all.”

“That’s not true,” Aaron said.

“You didn’t see the look on his face when he finally learned that Roselyn and I were together.”

Aaron chuckled. “You probably just caught him off guard.”

“That’s what I thought at first, but now whenever I enter the room, he draws himself up and looks at me as though something foul has just wandered in,” Verona said.

“All fathers disapprove of their daughter’s significant others in the beginning. Could be worse; at least he hasn’t tried to kill you.”

Verona was about to answer when a voice spoke over his comms device. “Do you guys realize that Verona’s comms channel is open?” Gavril asked, unable to keep the mirth from his voice.

“Thank you, Aaron,” Iranus said. “I hadn’t thought of trying to have Verona killed, but it’s something I will seriously consider in the near future. Now, don’t you have something else to be focusing on?”

Verona’s face turned several shades of red before he shook his head and shut off his comms device. Aaron tried to hold his laughter in, but when he heard Verona snicker he lost it. He shrugged his shoulders and turned his attention back to the Elitesmen stronghold.

“Do you love her?” Aaron asked.

“With everything that I am,” Verona answered.

“What I would do is tell him that. A little reassurance can go a long way. You may not need his blessing, but it would certainly mean a lot to Roselyn if both you and Iranus could at least see eye to eye on this.”

“You make it sound so easy and straightforward. As my uncle can attest, I was reckless in my pursuits until recently,” Verona said.

“Aw, hell,” Aaron said.

“What is it?” Verona asked, peering into the misty afternoon cold.

“Paven’s group is in the wrong place, and now he’s arguing with Sarik,” Aaron said, shifting his position along the branch.

“Remember what Gavril said about not swooping in. Let them sort it out,” Verona said.

Aaron frowned. “Even if at the cost of lives? It’s a wonder the whole stronghold doesn’t know we’re here.” His teeth clenched down, but Gavril was right: the FNA needed to learn to function on its own.

Verona looked through his spyglass. “This just got more interesting. This is the group that has been sacking the towns north of Duncan’s Port. Here, have a look,” Verona said, handing Aaron the spyglass.

Aaron squinted and looked to where Verona pointed. There was a line of men leading to a tent. All of them were carrying various items of value. He scanned the stronghold and saw a group of people being led away in chains.

“They’ve taken prisoners,” Aaron said.

Verona’s eyes drew up in surprise. “Why would they do that? They haven’t taken anyone before. Weren’t these groups suspected to be aligned with Rordan?”

The late high king’s son hadn’t been seen since the High King died at the battle at Rexel. Sarah had suspected that Rordan might return to Khamearra, but so far he’d seen fit not to show himself anywhere.

“I bet a group this large is headed up by a few masters,” Aaron said.

“The Elitesmen with the silver cloaks. I’m not sure our troops are prepared for something like that, and neither am I, to be honest, my friend.”

Aaron nodded and handed back the spyglass. Elite Masters were among the most ruthless of the Order. They were highly skilled and could manipulate the flow of energy, depending on their own particular skill sets in working with the elements. He had faced them before at the arena in Khamearra. The silver-clad Elitesmen were as likely to kill their brethren as they were to focus upon their enemies.

“It looks like someone else took up position where Paven was supposed to be… You’re not going to like it,” Verona said.

Aaron frowned, drawing in the energy, and peered into the gloom. “It’s Sarah.”

“Wasn’t she sick again this morning?” Verona asked.

Soldiers in the stronghold raised the alarm and scrambled to the walls. The FNA forces were already attacking, closing the net around the stronghold so that none escaped. Aaron drew his swords with Verona doing the same. He couldn’t sit idly by while Sarah took it upon herself to join the attack. She was a match for any Elitesmen and probably the masters too, but he couldn’t take the chance. Not after everything they’d been through to be together.
 

Soldiers poured out of the tents with Elitesmen mixed between. Some howled their rage at their former brethren who had joined the Free Nations Army. With a nod to Verona, Aaron launched into the air, using the particles in the wind to extend his jump, and landed in the middle of the stronghold. Six Elitesmen streaked in his direction with their swords drawn.

Aaron brought up the Falcons, and a few notes of the bladesong pierced the air. He charged forward, meeting the Elitesmen’s attack. No longer were the Elitesmen put off by someone who could actually fight back, and they fought all the more ferociously because of it. Amid the storm of swords, the bladesong bit into the Elitesmen’s blades. One after another, they threw themselves at him, bringing all their training to bear. A few unleashed attack orbs, which Aaron deflected with his blades. The crystals in the pommels of his blades glowed with the energy, casting a white glow around them. Knowledge of souls past melded themselves into his style, allowing him to quickly unravel the pattern of Elitesmen attacks. They would never surrender, preferring to fight to the death, and while Aaron would fight, it still sickened him that he had no other choice but to kill the Elitesmen. He feared the day when killing Elitesmen didn’t matter to him. Then he would be like the High King, whose insatiable appetite to kill went hand in hand with his lust for power.
 

Verona fought by his side. His friend had grown in his abilities by leaps and bounds. Verona harbored a lifetime of fear and hatred for the Elitesmen and held no such misgivings where their deaths were concerned. Two Elitesmen sent attack orbs their way, which bounced harmlessly off an invisible shield created by Verona.

The medallion became as ice on Aaron’s chest. He spun around, scanning the area, and amid the shadows two glowing red eyes bored into him. Aaron charged, closing the distance between them. The Elite Master narrowed his baleful gaze and raised his swords. Aaron swung his Falcons, and as the blades met, sparks showered down around them. The Elite Master leaped away, and Aaron followed, quickly catching up to him. The Elitesman cut to the left, heading into the courtyard. Aaron caught a glimpse of Verona following and saw that the FNA forces were pushing in on all sides.

Aaron went over the wall and was met by three Elite Masters in their silver cloaks.
 

A trap it is then, but not enough for this quarry.
 

A squad of FNA soldiers charged in, and the Elite Masters lifted their hands. The squad of men screamed in pain, their skin blistering everywhere. Before Aaron could move, the squad was already dead, their bodies steaming husks. Their blood was boiled from within. Growling, Aaron spun, sucking in a torrent of energy, and swung his swords, sending a swath of pure energy into the Elite Masters. He was on them before their bodies hit the ground. His blades cut down two of them, but the third scrambled away and came to a halt before the portcullis.

“Surrender,” Aaron said.

The glowing red eyes of the Elite Master narrowed. “Never, Shandarian.”

Verona crested the wall, and more FNA soldiers led by Sarah appeared outside the portcullis.

The Elite Master glanced behind him and smirked. “Your weakness presents itself, Shandarian,” he said, and raised his hands.
 

A soldier stepped in front of Sarah and collapsed to the ground. Aaron dashed forward and was in front of the Elite Master in the span between moments. He brought down his blades, severing the Elite Master’s outstretched hand.

“You will never be able to protect them all, Shandarian.”

Without another word, Aaron plunged his sword into the Elite Master’s heart.

Sarah helped the soldier regain his feet and closed the distance to Aaron, while the FNA soldiers fanned out through the courtyard.

“My Queen, I thought you were feeling ill,” Aaron said with half a smile.
 

“I felt better and wanted a bit of fresh air,” Sarah said.

Sarah had become the High Queen of Khamearra after they had defeated her father, the High King. Aaron had taken to calling her his queen ever since, and it had been a running joke between them.
 

A deep, cavernous roar echoed through the courtyard. The roar appeared to come from within the castle. In moments, more Elitesmen and renegade soldiers poured out of it. Behind them followed an immense creature easily fifteen feet tall. Dark armor covered it from head to toe, with the exception of the thick horns that protruded from its forehead. Something about the armored beast tugged at Aaron’s memory.

Verona came to his side with a crystal-tipped arrow nocked in his bow. The arrow flew into the giant beast, but the exploding dust of the crystal-laden arrow barely slowed it down.
 

The beast’s armor ended in spikes, and it carried a large twin mooned ax. FNA soldiers armed with plasma rifles fired at the beast, but the bolts were absorbed into the armor.
 

That’s no creature of Safanar. It’s one of the Zekara!
Aaron thought.

The Zekara were of the Hythariam military led by General Halcylon, who had sworn to enslave the people of Safanar.

The giant ax was swung through the air, dealing crushing blows upon the FNA soldiers. The Elitesmen surrounding the beast attacked. Aaron rushed forward, heading straight for the beast. He ducked under a swing of the giant ax and hammered down upon the armored leg, but the Falcons bounced back, jarring his arms.

Elitesmen closed in behind him, and Aaron scrambled around looking for a vulnerable spot in the beast’s armor. He unleashed an energy-fused kick to the beast’s knee, driving it down, but the beast sprang back up and spun around, focusing on Aaron as a hound on prey.
 

Aaron taunted the beast, drawing it away from the others, and it roared in pursuit. As the distance between them increased, the beast came to halt and lifted the haft of the ax as if it were aiming a rifle. Aaron threw himself behind a wall. The blast of the Zekara weapon thundered against the wall.

“Aaron.” Gavril’s voice came through his comms device. “The beast is from the Zekara. Try to take it alive.”

Another blast from the Zekaran weapon blasted a hole through the rock wall near his head.

Capture it? Yeah, right.

Aaron leaped over the wall and charged the beast. The FNA was engaged with the Elitesmen. The beast’s ax swung past him, and Aaron brought the Falcons down upon the haft, cutting through it. A bolt of energy ran along the remaining haft of the ax, and the beast howled in pain, dropping its weapon. The beast’s boulder-sized hands smashed at the ground, trying to get at him. Aaron backed away, looking for a way to capture the beast. A gauntleted fist sailed toward him, and he brought up his swords, funneling energy into his muscles and limbs. The gauntleted fists slammed into him, and the beast bore down upon him, using its massive weight. The corded muscles in Aaron’s back groaned in protest, and they each struggled against the other. Deep within the helm were glowing yellow eyes, eerily reminiscent of the Drake. The beast roared, as did Aaron, each refusing to yield. Aaron pushed with his legs, and the ground beneath the beast’s feet gave way as it slid on the ground.

Aaron heaved to the side, using the beast’s forward momentum, causing it to lose its balance. The horns protruding from the helmet slammed into the wall. Aaron brought his swords down and cut one of the horns. The beast reared back in pain. Yellowish liquid dripped from the stump. The beast tore its helmet off, revealing bronze skin and white hair similar to those of the Hythariam. The beast focused its rage-filled eyes upon Aaron. The beast charged. Aaron ducked to the other side and cut through the remaining husk. With the beast’s head exposed upon its armored body, Aaron waited for it to attack again. The yellowish liquid dripped to the ground and hissed as it made contact.