Scion Rising

by R. Michael Card

  I tried to tell you at the time. You were getting too close to his mind. He’d pulled you into his dream. You were there with him. It was real for you both even though it was only in his mind.

  Oh… well then.

  It remained only for her to tell him how she felt or perhaps, even better, show him.

  “This isn’t a dream, Tirol,” she said as she started toward him. “I’m here. I don’t know why you left, but I wanted to tell you to come back, to be with me.” She held out Eaglewing and said “Guard” then released the weapon. It floated there, string pulled by some invisible hand, arrow nocked, ready to attack any unwanted intruders.

  “This must be a dream,” he said, rising to stand before her. “You’ve never been this forthcoming.”

  “I’m not one to express my emotions easily. That and I kept getting interrupted by people trying to kill us.” She reached out, putting a hand on his cheek. With the contact, her mind linked to his, and all of his thoughts of her flashed before her. The intensity and sheer amount of his thoughts for her overwhelmed her for a moment. All of his desires, his love, his longing filled her. She drew in a shuddering breath to calm herself. “Perhaps this will show you,” she said and opened her mind to his, revealing all of her thoughts of him, her own deepest secret desires.

  “Oh! By all the gods!” he said, his breath clipped. “I never… oh.”

  His breath returned to normal, and his eyes focused on her. Then he stepped in, arms grasping her and pulling her to him. His lips found hers with a kiss so impassioned and deep it stole her breath.

  She grasped him tightly, returning the kiss with all the pent-up desire she’d held within her.

  He groaned, but it wasn’t a pleasant sound. She released him, stepping back.

  He smiled. “Blazes, but you’re unnaturally strong.”

  “Oh, sorry. I’ll try to be more gentle,” she said, blushing. Gods! She never blushed.

  “Don’t get me wrong. I’m good with forceful, but just not quite so forceful.”

  She smiled. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  They embraced again. Lips, tongues, and bodies pressing and moving together, warm in the summer’s night.

  The link between their minds remained, and all of their deepest secret desires were laid bare. They communicated through joined images and knew in an instant what the other longed for and needed.

  She grabbed the collar of his shirt and ripped it open, tearing it fully down the front. Her hands caressed the planes of his chest, then down over the firm muscles of his torso. She slid her arms around him under the shirt, in a rough embrace. Her nails clawed at his back. His breath left him as his mind flashed images of all manner of thoughts about her… and him.

  His hand pulled at her tunic, certain and unashamed. She let the shirt be removed, holding her arms above her head so he could lift it off and away.

  With a grin, she tore the rest of his shirt from him as well.

  “There, now we’re even.” She pressed against him, seeing his pleased smile at the touch of her flesh to his. “What-so-ever shall we do now?”

  “No more words,” he said running a hand up through her hair pushed her lips to his.

  And there were no more words after that.

  Well, almost no words. There were definitely some screams and yelps, some of them containing words, others just expressions of the purity of emotion between them. She was more than pleased that she was the one doing the majority of such cries. Tirol, if nothing else, was a very persistent and dedicated lover.

  “Don’t you want something?” she gasped, her body trembling with radiant pleasure, her breath catching and quick. Yet her mind belied her words, through their link she flashed a thousand images of her own desires.

  “I’ll get there in time,” he teased. “Do you want me to stop what I’m doing?

  “Gods no. Shut up and keep going.”

  He did.

  There was more screaming.

  Until finally he brought her to a singular moment of euphoria, tense and quivering with the intensity of her ecstasy. She’d been on top again, like that magical dream they’d shared, and after a moment she simply collapsed onto him, their lips meeting and playing at kisses as her body continued to tremble and shake with everlasting bliss.

  “Gods, but you’re a patient man,” she breathed.

  “Not anymore, I’m not.” And it was his turn to be forceful.

  And she’d thought she’d been screaming before… She threw her head back, moaning or screaming, too far gone into bliss to care.

  And when he finally met his own rapture, they cried out together as one. Then he too collapsed into her warm embrace.

  They lay there for some time as the night cooled their bodies.

  Wyllea stroked some damp hair out of Tirol’s face, her eyes meeting his.

  “You know I love you.” It wasn’t a question.

  He smiled. “And you know I couldn’t imagine a life without you. I love you with everything I am, Wyllea.”

  She smiled.

  He kissed her softly, sealing their union once and for all.

  Tirol returned to their small room in St. Antin Abbey awash in sweat. It had been weeks since they’d come back to the abbey. Wyllea trained and studied relentlessly every day, nearly all day, strengthening her Guardian abilities. So with all his free time, and having committed himself to being a part of the war against The Blacklord, he’d figured why not have some of the best warriors in the known lands teach him how to fight? It was challenging, but he was a quick study. All of his instructors had commented on his natural speed and agility, even if he did have a long way to go before he was a master of any weapon or fighting style. He enjoyed it.

  His body ached, both from exertion and bruising. He was exhausted and dirty and sweaty, but even so, he smiled as he stripped off his clothes and began washing himself from the large basin in their room.

  He turned as the door opened, and Wyllea stepped in. She looked worn and tired and was only slightly less sweaty than he had been.

  But when she looked up and saw him, her eyes lit and her weariness faded. She grinned broadly.

  “Senia is one blazes of a sparring partner. I’ve never seen anyone so fast.”

  “You should see Master Elia or Ahrn,” he replied.

  “I have.” She nodded. “You’ve got your work cut out for you.” She only then seemed to notice he was undressed and let her gaze slowly take in his form.

  “You’re putting on muscle.” A pause as her breath quickened. “Gods, but you’re sexy.”

  With that, she released Eaglewing and came, almost literally, flying into his arms. Their lips met and he was lost in her embrace.

  His heart swelled as their minds linked, their passions set ablaze.

  He had found a home, a meaning, a purpose, and a love. What more could a man want?

  Epilogue

  Davar was alone for the first time in his life.

  He’d always been separate, apart from the rest of The Blacklord’s men because of his abilities and status, but he’d never been alone. He’d always had his father’s presence, a voice within him, guiding and commanding him. But that was gone.

  He’d studied St. Antin Abbey in preparations for the army’s assault on the fortress. He knew that centuries of protection spells had been woven into these thick stone walls. And where he was now, in the deepest bowels of the fortress, those spells were the strongest.

  There was no light in his cell, but he was a friend of the darkness. It was the silence, not the darkness, which terrified him most.

  He knew his standing orders: capture any scion or artifact and bring it to his father; kill anyone else who got in his way. Yet that didn’t help him now without Shadowfang. Oh, he was dangerous enough without his sword. His powers were still enough to take nearly anyone here, except a scion. But like most scions, Shadowfang was a part of him, and that connection was severed, at least for now, by his own magically enhanced manacles wr
apped around his wrists.

  They were the same ones he’d used on Senia to keep her from accessing her sword when he’d captured her, imbued with the dark magic of his father, keeping scion and artifact separated.

  He didn’t fear his captors. They’d try to break him, get information from him, but his will and mind were strong and he would hold. Perhaps not forever, but hopefully long enough for the armies outside to tear down these walls. Though with two scions now guarding the fortress, that outcome seemed less likely. He was also now painfully aware of the new scion’s ability to tap into his mind.

  He’d thought his mind impregnable. As a multitalented wizard, he could access all four of the higher domains, spirit, soul, body, and mind, and his mind talent was strongest. Yet still, a scion with mind powers would most likely be more powerful, as Wyllea had proven herself. He could hold against her for a while, but he knew now he wouldn’t be able to keep her out forever. She was simply too strong.

  No, his only real option was escape.

  Footfalls in the hallway outside his cell and a growing light through the small grating high in his door told him someone approached.

  A key slid into the lock. Perhaps his time to escape had come. Aside from the magical manacles on his hands, they had also put mundane cuffs around his ankles, chained to the wall. He had made a show of trying to break them, to settle his jailers, but he knew with his strength it wouldn’t be an issue if he truly wished to snap those chains. His talent with earth magic and the ability to manipulate one’s own body was nearly as strong as his mental abilities. He could surge his strength to incredible heights when he wished to.

  The door opened and he stood, ready.

  Then he stopped.

  There in the doorway stood the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Pure blond hair falling in waves to just below her shoulders framed an oval face with light brown eyes that shimmered like gold in the flickering torchlight. She was tall, with a well filled out figure, not thin and willowy like Senia. No, she was shapely and curvy, full of bust and hips. She was cloaked in a long blue dress and cloak of darker blue. He’d never seen her before and had no idea why she’d be at his cell. Behind her were two burly guards.

  She spoke, and her voice was a harmony of sound to his ears. “I’ve been asked to look in on you.” There was a certain distaste in her voice. “To see if your heart is truly as black as they say.”

  “It is,” he said with a grin.

  She peered at him. It was a palpable gaze, he could feel it penetrating him, searching his soul. It wasn’t an unpleasant sensation, and yet he felt somehow defenseless, violated. That wasn’t right at all. If anyone was doing any violating, it should be him.

  “Interesting,” she said after a long moment.

  “What?” What had she seen in him?

  “It would seem you’re not as black of soul as everyone thinks. There is good in you.”

  Like blazes there was!

  He ripped his feet forward, tearing his chains in two quick steps. Before the guards could react, he was at the woman. She screamed as he grabbed her, turned her, one arm going around her neck. His thick bicep pushed her head back, her soft hair brushing his face. It smelled of roses.

  “Either of you move, and she dies,” he said, forcing his arm tighter around her neck. Her labored breathing and sounds of choking were enough to keep the two guards at bay.

  “Please,” she gasped, the only word she could get out. And for a moment he hesitated, his heart pricked by the plea. Never before had he had any doubt about killing an innocent if needed, but her…

  He shouted at the guards. “Both of you. There is a key to these manacles. Find it or she dies!”

  The guards stood there, hesitating.

  “Now!” he barked, and they ran.

  He waited until their footfalls and torches were distant, then released his death grip on the woman but kept his arm around her

  She gasped and coughed as she regained air.

  “You’re coming with me, my dear.” It made sense. He didn’t need to kill her. A hostage might come in handy. “Try anything and you die.”

  It was dark in the dungeons, but that did not matter to him. He could see in darkness as in daylight, at home in shadow. Yet even without seeing her, the brush of her body so close against his sent thrills through him. He couldn’t understand this. No woman had ever bewitched him like this before. He tried to block it from his mind, focus on his escape.

  “Go!” he commanded.

  “You aren’t waiting for the key?”

  “I don’t need it. Besides, they’ll only come back with help.”

  The manacles were nearly indestructible, but there was one thing that could break them, a combination of all four of the primary magical elements: earth, wind, fire, and water. True, he possessed all of these magicks, but the shackles prevented the wearer from using any magic directly on the bindings themselves. As long as he could get out of the abbey, there were wizards in the army who could help him.

  Besides, he had one ability that would get him out safe. He cloaked them both in shadow, not noticeable in the darkness, but a comfort to him. As long as it was dark outside, no one would see him pass.

  “I’m going to walk right out of this abbey and take you with me.”

  He’d been given a way out, and he would exploit it.

  To learn more about R. Michael’s books and to sign up for his newsletter to receive exclusive announcements and new release notifications visit:

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  Don’t miss the next book in the series!

  SCION’S SACRIFICE

  The Guardians Of Light: Book 3

  She’ll fight for his very soul

  Davar is the son of The Blacklord, a man of pure evil. He’s never questioned the wishes of his father, never even thought to go against the most powerful man in the world. He thought he was irredeemable… until he met Cass. There is something about the pure-hearted woman, and the way she sees the world and him, which eats away at him. He doesn’t want to change… or does he?

  Cassine has lived a simple life, if a hidden one. She wishes only to help others, to cure the sick and wounded. As a healer for the armies that oppose The Blacklord, she’s had plenty of opportunity to do so. This duty has always come first in her life and she’s never had the time or desire to be with a man. But when she finds herself stranded with Davar—the enemy—she sees an opportunity to do the impossible and help him see the light within him… and to love a man who’s known only hate.

  PROLOGUE

  Master Elia rushed to the High Abbot’s chambers. She wasn’t pleased at having been summoned, not when she was needed out on the walls.

  Outside and all around St. Antin Abbey the Blacklord’s army pressed their offensive, attacking yet again, throwing ever more of their seemingly innumerable men against the fifty-foot walls and battle-ready monks of Embreth. The monks were far better trained and for every monk that fell in battle, twenty to fifty of the enemy fell. Still, Elia feared it wouldn’t be enough. There were far more of the enemy than her monks.

  Two factors helped to level the playing field. The first were the sisters of Ehlani, healers who could bring a monk back from the brink of death. The second and far more influential in this fight, were the two scions who battled to defend St. Antin.

  Senia and Wyllea were a blessing. Two Guardians of Aehryn in an age when all were thought to be lost. Long ago The Greatest of the Gods, Aehryn of All Things, had given of herself, dying in order to bless certain people with powerful magic weapons. These special few and their descendants, or scions, became the Guardians of Aehryn. One scion was worth a hundred monks, if not more. The two women were both fierce warriors and an inspiration to her monks. She thanked Embreth for those scions every night. More recently, the armies of the west had also arrived to help. But since they were unable to fit within the confines of the abbey. They were camped in the mountains to the west. As of yet they had only sent out a few
parties to skirmish with the enemy — as it was difficult to find any good battleground in the forested hills. These armies could be a great boon if they could somehow manage to coordinate their efforts.

  Elia stopped before the High Abbot’s door and pounded on the door.

  Impatient and frustrated that she’d been taken away from helping those she’d trained and raised — her monks, her people — she tried to put on a pleasant face. She could be civil, if she wanted to be. She should be fighting, but when the High Abbot called, she obeyed. Besides, the high abbot was never disturbed or distressed, always serene. So she knew her agitation would serve her little in this meeting.

  A quiet attendant ushered her into the sitting room of the High Abbot’s modest suite. The room was large for private quarters, but when compared to many other rooms in the massive abbey it was still quite small. To Elia’s left stood a long table with several simple wooden chairs around it. The tabletop was set with maps and papers, the defense of St. Antin. Beyond the table was a wall with a single door, which led to the sleeping chambers of the High Abbot. On the wall to her right and continuing around to the wall behind her were floor to ceiling bookshelves, filled with the High Abbot’s private collection of tomes and scrolls. Before her was a large sitting area defined by a large, thick rug in front of the great hearth, which roared with a new fire. Four comfortable, well-cushioned high back chairs had been set out. Two of those chairs were occupied, one by the High Abbot herself, the other by High Sister Olinda, the ranking member of the Daughters of Ehlani in the Abbey. This made Master Elia even more curious.

  She took a seat and glanced at the fourth chair, a further curiosity. Was someone else expected?

  “High Abbot, if I may ask, are we waiting on another?” Elia asked, all formal courtesy despite the urgency within her to be back out on the walls in the fight.