by SF Mazhar
Neriah, Skyler and Ella pressed themselves into the soft, mossy ground and peered over the edge of the hill. Aaron, Kate and Chris did the same. The first thing Aaron noticed was the thin, sparkling stream running through the forest. Sunlight bounced off the dazzling water, as if crystal jewels lay under the surface. Staring at the river, Aaron realised just how thirsty he was.
Then he saw what everyone else was looking at.
It was a woman with long white hair, crouching over the edge of the stream. Her pale grey dress hung off her skeletal frame. Aaron saw her thin, wrinkled arm extend to cup water in a trembling hand. Aaron glanced at the area around the old woman, but couldn’t see anyone else. Yet, everyone was staring in her direction with unblinking eyes.
Chris was the first to move. He brought up his arm and aimed his gun at the frail old woman.
Aaron couldn’t stop himself. “Dad?” he whispered. “What are you doing?”
Chris snapped his head around to look at Aaron with alarm. Everyone stilled. Breaths were pulled in but not let back out. Skyler cursed. Aaron turned to see the woman at the stream freeze, her hand halfway between the stream and her mouth. She whipped around and Aaron almost stopped breathing. Her face was barely more than thin skin stretched over bone. Her eyes glowed an eerie yellow and the moment they landed on him, she opened her mouth and screamed.
Only it wasn’t a human scream.
The sound that filled the air was one that made Aaron swear his ears were bleeding. A high-pitched screech, so intense it made Aaron’s teeth rattle, rang around them. Such was the volume of her cry that Aaron didn’t hear the guns go off next to him. The screaming stopped, and the woman turned and ran. Neriah raced down the hill after her, Skyler and Ella hot at his heels. The old, weak-looking woman bolted through the woods at a speed that left Aaron gaping in shock. There was no doubt as to what she was now. She wasn’t human and she wasn’t mage. Elementals were hunting her. She must be a demon.
Aaron stood up and spotted her past the trees, a little distance ahead. Aaron raised both hands, aiming a ripple at her, to slow her down.
Nothing happened. The ground stayed as it was. His fingers didn’t even tingle like they usually did.
Perplexed, Aaron looked at his hands, turning them over to examine them. He raised them again.
“It’s no use,” Chris said quietly by his side.
Aaron turned to him.
“Our powers don’t work here,” Chris explained.
“What?” Aaron asked. “Why not?”
“No power works on the ground that holds the Blades of Aric,” Chris explained. “The Blades draw power to themselves from the elements that surround them. If a mage gets too close, the Blades pull power from them too. That’s why we can’t open portals near them. The Blades would just swallow that energy.”
Aaron was stunned. “How am I going to use the sword if it drains my powers?”
Chris shared a look with his wife. “When you hold the Blade it will connect with the legacy inside you. Then the Blade will give you power rather than take it.”
A heavy sigh made Aaron turn to look at his mum. She didn’t look happy, in fact, she looked downright miserable at the prospect of Aaron wielding the Blade.
“Mum?” Aaron stepped towards her, reaching out to hold on to her arm.
“It’s your birthright,” she said quietly. “I know that. I just–” She shook her head and closed her eyes. “I wish you were older before you were forced into all of this.”
Aaron’s hand dropped from her arm. “No one is forcing me, Mum,” he said. “I want to be a part of this fight. I want to do this.”
“We know,” Chris said. He gave Aaron a small smile. “You’re not going to back down, we’ve accepted that now. If we can’t stop you, then at least we can protect you. You can take the Blade of Adams, but our job–” he gestured to himself and Kate “–is to make sure no one gets near enough for you to use it.”
Aaron stared at him. “Dad–”
But Chris looked over Aaron’s head and his expression changed. He stepped past him and Aaron turned to see the group of Elementals making their way back, guns clutched in their hands.
“Did you get it?” Chris asked.
Neriah shook his head. “It got away. We injured it, so it won’t get too far.”
“The Lurkers did a full sweep. They said it was all clear,” Skyler said, annoyed.
“It was alone. It must have wandered away from its nest,” Neriah replied.
“What was that thing?” Aaron asked.
“A Banshee,” Ella replied, scrunching up her nose. “Nasty things.”
Banshees. That’s what Kyran had claimed had been in that village he burned down.
“I thought Banshees were bad omens,” Aaron mumbled, trying to get Kyran and his words out of his mind.
He recalled an assignment he had to complete on folklore last year. His mum had made him focus in particular on Banshees. He remembered reading that their screams were their defence mechanisms, but some folklore suggested it was an offence. When they were attacked or killed, their screams were normal-sounding human cries that caused no damage. But according to different myths, their Banshee scream could do anything from kill, to warn of approaching death.
“They are bad omens,” Skyler said. “Considering they eat those they meet, I’d say they’re the worst type of omens.”
Aaron threw him a glare but otherwise ignored him.
“Come,” Neriah said. “We don’t have time to waste.”
He led the way back. Aaron and the others followed after him. Ella jogged forward to fall into step with Aaron.
“Hey,” she called. “You doing okay?”
“Yeah,” Aaron replied. “I’m good.”
“You should know, Banshees have a super sense of hearing,” she said. “That one heard you whispering.”
“I’m sorry,” Aaron said. “I didn’t realise–”
“It was already pretty weak, it won’t make it too far,” Ella said. “At least we know there’s a nest somewhere in the vicinity.” She smiled. “Maybe later on, you can come with your Blade and hunt it out.” She elbowed him in good humour.
“Are Banshees really all that dangerous?” Aaron asked. “That one didn’t look like it could do much.” He couldn’t stop thinking about how thin and frail it was.
“Looks are deceiving,” Ella replied. “Banshees are really vile creatures. They feast on mage flesh. They usually prey on babies and infants. Their screams paralyse the young, so Banshees can easily carry them back to their nest to feed on.”
Aaron shuddered at the thought. “So, pretty dangerous, then.”
“Not as bad as some, but yeah, Banshees are plenty troublesome,” Ella said.
Aaron thought for a moment. “Who are the really bad ones?”
Ella looked over at him. “I think you already know.”
“Vamages,” Aaron said, hating how the word now associated with his mental picture of Kyran.
Ella nodded. “And Lycans.”
As soon as she said the name, Skyler looked around at both her and Aaron with serious eyes and a furrowed brow. He didn’t say anything and turned back, following behind Neriah.
“Skyler’s sensitive to that word,” Aaron commented.
“Why wouldn’t he be?” Ella said quietly. “He lost everything to Lycans.”
Aaron remembered what Neriah had yelled at his dad – how Skyler was forced to watch as Lycans murdered his whole family. He felt pity well up inside him.
“He’s not the only one,” Ella continued, her voice barely above a whisper.
Aaron looked at her. He knew Neriah was her only family.
“What age were you when...?” Aaron faltered, wondering how best to ask such a personal question.
“My father died before I was born, in one of the worst attacks by Lycans,” Ella said. “My mother...” She closed her eyes and took in a breath. “She was killed by Lycans a year later.”
Aaron felt a sharp pain sear his chest. “I’m so sorry, Ella.”
Ella didn’t say anything but gave a small nod.
Neriah and Skyler came to a stop in front of a cave nestled at the base of a large hill. The mouth of the cave was almost closed by thick vegetation.
Neriah and Skyler cut away at it with their swords until there was enough room to squeeze into the cave. It was dark inside, even with the sunlight trying to flood in through the entrance. Neriah ran his hand over the walls until he found a small torch. He dug out a lighter from his bag and lit it.
Now that they had some light, Neriah made his way deeper into the cave. Aaron and the rest of them followed. The further they went, the more Aaron’s heart dropped. His mouth was incredibly dry and he was feeling light-headed. He wasn’t sure if that was the effect of the Blade or his nerves getting the best of him.
Their steps landed on stone, echoing in the small cave. Aaron tasted the stale, damp air when he took in a deep breath. Neriah stopped them suddenly.
“Wait here,” he commanded.
Aaron watched as Neriah walked over to the wall and held the torch up high, looking for something. He found it quickly – another torch. Neriah lit it, bringing a little more light into the cave. Aaron watched as Neriah made his way around the cave, lighting several torches. A warm glow filled the chamber. Only when Neriah stepped away from lighting the last torch did Aaron notice what lay before them.
Wedged in the stone ground, in the middle of a tremendous crack, stood a sword. Aaron had seen plenty of swords during his time in Salvador. The artillery hut had an entire wall dedicated to them. Even Kyran had a narrow, white-hilted sword in the weapons cabinet in his old cottage. But this sword wasn’t like anything Aaron had seen. Even with a part of it buried, what he could see was almost as long as Aaron’s arm. Symbols were engraved across the entire length of the gleaming silver. The light was too dim in the cave to make out exactly what they were. On the black hilt, set in tiny white stones, was Aric’s mark. It shone in the limited light, like the moon on dark nights. The Blade radiated power, an unseen force pulsating from the ground. Aaron could feel it, the pull of energy the Blade was demanding from the Earth. It made him dizzy to feel so much power around him.
Neriah came to rest next to Aaron. “Just walk over and pull the Blade out,” he instructed quietly.
Aaron’s gaze dropped to the end of the sword that was buried in the ground.
“Pull the sword out from the stone?” he asked.
“Yes,” Neriah replied.
Aaron smiled. “Like King Arthur?”
Neriah turned to give him a long look. “Who’s King Arthur?”
“Never mind.” Aaron shook his head. “But if Sam and Rose were here, they’d appreciate the humour.”
He stepped towards the Blade but paused to turn to his mum and dad. His dad looked worn thin with worry, but he managed a small nod and a shadow of a smile. His mum had pressed her lips into a line, her eyes gleaming in the limited light as she stared back at him. The orange flicker from the torches threw half of her face into shadow, but Aaron still saw the fear in her expression. He didn’t know what to do to dispel that fear. They knew, as did he, that from this day onwards, Aaron was going to be a major player in this war. Their plan to stay by his side, acting like shields, was their way of dealing with it, but that didn’t make watching him claim the Blade of Adams any easier. Aaron gave his mum a smile, trying to assure her that everything would be okay. He turned and began walking towards the sword.
The closer he came to the Blade of Adams, the more he felt his power seep out of him. By the time he reached the Blade, a fine sheen of sweat had covered him, leaving him feeling shaky and ill. But even so, when he stood before the sword, he found himself examining it closely. It was magnificent in every sense of the word. Despite being centuries old and left in this cave for what Aaron assumed was at least fourteen years, if not more, the sword looked like it had just been carved out of liquid silver. The engravings were symbols that didn’t make much sense to Aaron but they were mesmerising to look at.
His vision blurred suddenly and his knees threatened to buckle under him. Aaron had to fight to keep himself upright. He blinked to clear his eyes. His heart was beating against his ribcage with force, his breathing felt tighter. Aaron looked up to see Neriah standing with his mum and dad, waiting. Skyler and Ella stood to the side, watching him.
Neriah nodded at Aaron. “Push past it,” he instructed. “You’re standing close to the Blade, that’s why it’s affecting you. The moment you touch the sword, all the power of the Blade will connect with your legacy.”
Aaron swallowed and nodded. He extended his hand, trying to keep it steady. He almost touched the hilt before he stopped. He looked to his dad.
“Will it hurt?” he asked and he hated the way his voice shook at the question.
Chris smiled, his eyes gleaming. “No,” he replied with a shake of his head. “It will feel like a part of you that’s always been missing has finally clicked into place.”
The tight coil in Aaron’s chest loosened a little and Aaron nodded. He pushed out a breath and fixed his eyes on the Blade. He reached for it again and out of nowhere, Kyran’s voice boomed in his head.
The minute you touch that sword, your life will never be the same again.
Aaron paused. His life had already changed irreversibly. What else was there left to fear? The Blade of Adams was his by birthright. At some point in his life, he was meant to stand here and pull out this sword. He was destined to wield one of the four most powerful weapons in this realm.
Aaron pushed away Kyran’s warning, locked away the bubbling fear, and took a hold of the hilt.
The second Aaron’s hand closed around the grip of the sword, a tremendous wave of agony tore through him. It felt like fire had entered his veins and was spreading throughout his body, intent on burning him from within. With a cry, Aaron let go of the sword and stumbled back, gripping his hand.
“AARON!”
He could hear his mum and dad’s yells, and the sound of pounding feet told him they were running towards him, but Aaron couldn’t call back. Screams were ripping out of him. Something was tearing his insides apart. White-hot agony swept through him, clouding his vision. The pain brought Aaron to his knees before he fell, face forward onto the stone ground, sending him reeling into unconsciousness before his parents or Neriah could reach him.
19
Being Ready
The rays of daylight peeked in through the net curtains, warming Aaron’s face, urging him to wake up. Aaron wanted to roll over and hide his face under the pillow and go on sleeping. He was so tired, his bones were aching. Did he have the flu? Why was he so sore? Was it the day of the full moon already? Or did Skyler give him a good thrashing again, under the pretence of training? Wait, Kyran was his teacher now. He had been training with him for months. No. Kyran wasn’t his teacher. Kyran was the Scorcher. He was the enemy. He came to Salvador to steal Neriah’s key so he could unlock Hadrian’s power and destroy this realm and take the human one down with it. But Kyran had also come to warn Aaron, to tell him not to fight the war. He told him not to touch the sword.
The sword.
One of Aric’s Blades.
The Blade of Adams.
The memory of the agonising pain that flooded him the moment he touched the Blade came back to Aaron and he snapped awake. He was breathing fast, his heart racing. His vision was still cloudy with stubborn sleep, but when he blinked a few times he made out the strangely familiar ceiling.
He was lying in a comfortable bed, in a quiet, peaceful room but Aaron’s heart was pounding like he had woken up in a dank dungeon. Every part of Aaron’s body hurt. A dull ache pounded in his head, in time with his heartbeat. He felt jittery and ill, weakened and sore.
Slowly, Aaron lifted his right arm, blinking at his hand. It looked perfectly fine – no burn, not even the faintest mark – yet Aaron could swear he’d felt his skin sear with
heat when he held on to the sword. Had he been burned? Or was it just his imagination? Or had he been hurt and now healed?
“What happened?” Aaron asked himself out loud, his voice sounding scratchy to his own ears.
“Aaron?” a soft voice called, and Aaron turned his head to see a beautiful, fair-haired Empath at the door. “You’re awake already? I thought you would sleep well into the night.”
“Armana?” Aaron croaked in surprise. He looked around the room, finally figuring out where he was and why it looked so familiar. “How did I get to Salvador?”
Armana smiled and made her way over to him. “You were brought here a few hours ago,” she said. She felt the chair with her hands before sitting at his bedside. “Sensing how drained you were, I was certain you would be asleep for at least half the day.”
“The Blade,” Aaron breathed. “That’s what drained me?” He looked at Armana to see her gentle smile fade a little. “What happened?” he asked. “Why did the sword drain me?”
Armana shook her head. “Don’t you worry about that,” she said. She held out her hands. “Here, let me check–”
“Armana,” Aaron called. “Tell me what happened.” He swallowed past his dry throat. “Please.”
Armana pulled back her hands, letting them drop in her lap. Her unseeing gaze went past Aaron.
“Don’t get upset,” she said quietly. “This happens sometimes. It doesn’t mean anything’s wrong.”
“What?” Aaron asked. He pulled himself to sit up and the room spun. He closed his eyes and forced out a breath. “What...what do you mean?” he asked in a shaky voice. “What happens? What’s wrong?”
“You need to rest,” Armana said, her voice laced with concern. “Are you sitting up? You need to lie back down.”
“No.” Aaron pushed the covers back and tried to get out of bed, but he couldn’t manage it. “Not until you tell me what’s happening?” His body protested to the minimal movement and Aaron had to fight not to collapse onto his back.
“Aaron,” Armana started, leaning forward, her hands outstretched for him. “You’re in pain. I can feel it in your voice.” Her pale blue eyes were glistening. “Lie back, please.”
