Lost Wanderer Awakened - Book One of the Airendell Chronicles

Lost Wanderer Awakened - Book One of the
Airendell Chronicles

By Audra Hart

COPYRIGHT 2013 by Jen Bailey/Jenny Bailey

ISBN: 9781310085543

Cover by Jen Bailey

Smashwords edition

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or
distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this
book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without
written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied
in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All names,
characters, and places are fictitious or used fictitiously. Any
resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons,
living or dead is coincidental.

Lost Wanderer Awakened - Book One of the
Airendell Chronicles

PROLOGUE – Airendell Chronicler

The tall, statuesque woman stands on the hill
overlooking the group of mourners in the cemetery below. The icy
wind whips her long silver hair across her face. She doesn’t really
notice the mourners or the freezing rain soaking her hair and cape.
Her memories have carried her nearly six hundred years back in
time…

Kyera knew she would arrive too late to save
him. The vision she had received from their ally had been
unmistakable: Marcus, her master and mate, comes across a beautiful
bronze-haired Spell Weaver deep in a trance. The ancient vampire
has a fondness for the blood of those touched by magic. His intense
thirst makes him careless, so he doesn’t detect the approaching
female Spell Weaver as she hurries to the glen to join her
beloved.

Marcus has nearly drained the male immortal’s
body of blood when the victim’s wife comes upon them. Her boundless
rage strengthens the iron-lion spell she weaves through her body.
Her seething ire is fueled by terror that she has come too late to
save her beloved, her man of light.

The tiny Spell Weaver launches herself at the
vampire. The sound like shattering granite fills the air as she
crushes his jaw with a single blow, breaking the vampire’s hold on
her mate’s neck. The ancient blood drinker falls on his hands and
kneels as his body starts to heal itself. The fire-haired girl
leaps onto his back and grabs his head in her hands, with a fierce
twist and savage pull; she rips his head from his body. In her
rage, she continues to rend the icy, stone hard body into pieces;
the sound of shattering granite fills the glen.

Finally, she recovers enough from the blood
red rage that has seized her to check on her love. The ancient
one’s venom is coursing through his body, and he writhes in agony.
His tortured screams fill her ears and shred her heart. She fears
his life force is ebbing away. She’s certain the ancient vampire
had drained too much of his precious blood for him to be able to
heal himself, or even to survive the change.

The fire-haired Spell Weaver knows she has to
dispose of the ancient vampire before she can safely tend to her
lover. She quickly gathers the bloody, granite like pieces of the
vampire’s body and piles them for burning. She grunts in
satisfaction as she weaves the spell to start the blaze that will
turn the stone cold monster to ash. The sickly sweet, thick and
oily smoke fills the glen, and clears the last remnants of fury
from her brain, replacing it with overwhelming fear for her
beloved.

The immortal female returns to her mate. She
kneels and weaves the healing spells over his writhing body. His
agonized screams fill their glen, and tear at her courage. In her
heart she fears this won’t be enough to save her mate. Fear and
utter desolation at the thought of losing the man she loves more
than her own life chills her to the bone. She closes her eyes and
prays for guidance. In utter desperation, she takes her dagger from
her belt and slits her wrist. She holds her shaking hand over his
mouth to allow her life’s blood to trickle down his throat. When
she starts to feel faint she weaves a healing spell over the
self-inflicted wound, and she prays that this frantic act will be
enough to save her beloved. She cradles the beautiful bronze head
in her lap and sings the healing songs over and over as he thrashes
and screams in agony.

She continues her vigil for three days until
his agonized cries and writhing finally cease. Her voice is just a
hint of a whisper from the continuous singing. Her strength is
decimated from the repeated blood loss as she has continued to feed
him her own blood to keep him alive during the long vigil. Only her
love and stubborn determination has kept her upright and singing
during the three days that she cradled his struggling form.
Finally, she collapses in total exhaustion over his body.

Kyera, the tall, beautiful silver haired
spell-weaver, turned dark witch finds the pair in the glen an hour
after the fire-haired female collapses. Her rage boils at the sight
of the ancient vampire’s cold ashes. She sneers at the pair of
lovers. Her fury and grief are fueled by the sure knowledge that
she cannot kill the pair unless she is willing to forfeit her own
immortality. No Spell Weaver can deliberately kill another ascended
magical being without losing their own immortality, except to save
their own life.

The glen resounds with her blood-curdling
scream. The pair stirs from their stupors in time to see the dark
mists swirling in the glen, and feel the power of the dark witch’s
spell as it splits the air like lightning, as it chills them to
their very souls. The vicious words of her curse on their lives
will be forever seared into their memories:

“My love you have taken from me,

The same I shall do to thee…

Without reason or rhyme,

Your lover shall chase you through time…

Though I cannot take your life,

I will fill your eternity with suffering and
strife…

Every time he finds you, from his arms you
will be torn,

And into a new life you will be born…

Over and over through time you shall
roam,

Ever, just out of the reach of your blood
thirsty man of stone.”

CHAPTER 1 – CARNAGE

Kyera drags herself back to the present time.
Her lip pulls back in a sneer as she watches the mourners drift
away from the graveside. Her hatred for the woman stroking the
small coffin is a tangible thing. It is so strong, in fact, that
the grief stricken mother raises her tear stained face to look up
the hill. When she sees the tall silver-haired woman standing there
watching, her heart is instantly filled with a deep sense
foreboding that she can’t even begin to understand. She wipes her
face with trembling hands to clear the freezing rain from her eyes.
When she looks again, the silver haired woman is gone.

The grieving mother tries to wipe the image
from her mind. Her family is worried. She must collect herself and
go to them. Her pain over the loss of her precious son, Aiden is so
intense she can barely breathe, but her other two children, Kyle
and Nora still need their mother. She takes a deep breath, and
composes her face then turns toward her little family.

Rolan, her husband of nineteen years is
waiting for her. He is tall and strong, with dark hair and eyes.
His handsome face radiates open displeasure at her slow pace. She
tries to give him a tiny smile, but only manages a grimace. He
extends his hand to her, and looks over his shoulder to their
waiting children when she hesitates. She nods, but walks past him
to the children.

Kyle, at age fourteen, is tall like his
parents with his sire’s darker coloring, but has his mother‘s
strong facial features and emerald eyes. He stands a few feet
behind Rolan. He is holding an umbrella in one hand, and his other
hand is placed protectively on the shoulder of his six year old
sister, Nora. She’s tiny for her age with a heart shaped face and a
pert, little upturned nose. She has her mother’s red hair and
bright green eyes that are red and swollen from crying.

Both children have tear stained faces that
reveal their deep sense of loss and their concern for their mother.
She tries to smile at them, and pats them gently on their heads as
she walks by. She moves like someone in a trance toward the
family’s blue minivan. She reminds herself of her duty, and she
calls softly over her shoulder, “Come along babies, and let’s go
home.”

Once her family is loaded in their car,
Deidra looks out the window. Rolan is complaining bitterly about
being caught out in the freak Oklahoma ice storm in mid-April. Dee
knows he’s angry with her for taking so long at the graveside and
she feels a bit of her own anger rise up inside of her. She tamps
it down and continues to stare out the window of the mini-van. But
she doesn’t see the freezing rain that’s collecting on the van’s
windows, or the world around her. Her thoughts are on her son that
they just buried; all she sees is Aiden’s sweet face contorted in
agony as that last horrible seizure rips through his body.

Finally the seizures stop, Deidra is relieved
until she realizes that Aiden, her baby, isn’t breathing. She
screams for the nurse, and starts performing CPR on her child. The
nurse quickly enters the room, calls the code, she then forces
Deidra out of the way and takes over the CPR. Within moments, the
doctor and the rest of the team enter the hospital room. They try
in vain for 48 minutes to revive the tiny ten year old boy, but
it’s no use. His frail little body has been so weakened by cerebral
palsy and a seizure disorder that he never really had a chance. The
doctor, puts the paddles back on the crash cart, “Time of death,
11:35 p.m.,” he says.

When the doctor turns to exit the room he is
shocked to see the child’s mother standing there silently, with
tears streaming down her face. She has watched the epic struggle to
save her son’s life. She looks up into the doctor‘s face, the look
of pity she sees there makes her scream and collapse. She knows
there is no hope. Her baby is truly gone! And it’s her fault, she
could have saved him… she just knows it, but she just doesn’t know
how.

Deidra squeezes her eyes shut, trying to
block out the memories. She fervently wishes she could die too so
that she doesn’t have to endure this horrible loss. Guilt washes
over her as she thinks of her other two children, and her duty, no
her mission to be a good mother to them as well. But she can’t deny
her strong desire to die. She’s trying to pull herself back into
the moment. She can hear Nora talking to Kyle in the backseat, but
she’s not paying enough attention to know what she is saying.

The horrific reverie is shattered as
something rips into Deidra’s chest and she hears the screams of her
family, the screech of smashing metal, and the crash of shattering
glass. A giant semi-truck has crashed into the family’s minivan.
Slamming the hapless auto and its riders through the intersection
and into the concrete and steel of the overpass column. Deidra’s
last thought before everything goes black, is; “Please, not my
family! Not my family!”

The silver-haired witch smiles maliciously as
she watches from her vantage point at the top of the overpass.
Suddenly, she feels the mother’s life force leaving her body. Kyera
panics! “If she dies, I will be called to judgment and lose my
immortality.” she hisses. She floats down from the overpass and
runs over to find the bitch’s body in the carnage. She touches the
woman’s brow just in time to weave a brief spell.

Kyera has successfully stopped the life force
from leaving the wrecked body of her enemy. The silver haired witch
spits in her victim’s face and then she looks around and admires
her handiwork. The husband and children’s broken and lifeless
bodies are trapped in the demolished minivan. The vehicle is on
fire and will soon explode. Kyera reaches down to yank a jagged
piece of mangled steel out of her enemy’s chest before grabbing the
woman by the hair, and dragging her away from the carnage.

She sees the semi driver approaching on foot.
He is coming out from under the influence of her spell. He’s
watching her in terror. Kyera laughs thunderously and then weaves
an invisibility spell before the rescuers arrive. The semi driver
has seen it all. He’s terrified and confused. He just can’t
understand why his truck accelerated against the red light and into
the minivan. The tall woman with wild silver hair terrifies him. He
instinctively knows this woman is pure evil.

He falls to knees screaming in horror because
he knows that his truck has taken the lives of all in the van. He
knows that no one will ever believe that he wasn’t controlling his
truck, nor will they believe him if he tells them about the silver
haired woman. He has no family, no one who will stand with him.
Now, he knows he never will. He knows his life is over just as
surely as the lives of those in the burning vehicle.

Kyera remains at the scene of the carnage
until the mortals load the bitch into the ambulance and drive away.
She is reluctant to leave, but she never knows when Lucian will
arrive. She is reveling in her victory. In this incarnation, she
has again found Morna before he could. She feels gleefully
triumphant over this small victory, yet still fearful.