Bonded: Book One of the ShadowLight Saga, an Epic Fantasy Adventure

by Matthews, Mande

  Lothar growled a deep, rasping noise. The pack stiffened, unable to look toward him and he snarled again, this time barring his teeth.

  “Do not defy me!” he yelled. “You obey me, not her!”

  But his creatures lowered their heads, turned tail and scampered back into the forest, leaving the lord alone. Hallad lifted himself from the ground, scrambling to attack Lothar, but the lord disappeared into the air faster than a blink.

  Confused at the beasts’ odd behavior, both Hallad and Erik stared across the distance at one another for a moment. Finally, Erik rushed forward. Hallad spread his arms to embrace him, warmth spreading his chest, but Erik dashed by him, his aim—Swan.

  As Erik neared, his sword angled straight outward. Rota spun around to protect Swan while Olrun swiveled to face the onslaught of Erik. The drengmaer’s longer sword would reach Erik before he was ever close enough to damage Swan, but Erik raged onward any way, speeding as he closed the distance.

  “Stop!” Hallad screamed.

  Erik ignored him, barreling toward the drengmaers and his target.

  “Erik! Blood brother! Stop!”

  “I am not your blood sworn!" Erik skidded to a stop, turning toward Hallad. "You have betrayed me!”

  “Nei, Erik, listen.” Hallad’s heart hammered at the fury filling his friend's face.

  “Nei! You listen for once! That,” he pointed his sword toward Swan, “shadow-thing imprisoned your sister.”

  “You’re wrong.” Hallad said, his tone level.

  “I saw her! Swirled with blackness. Emma screaming!”

  “Nei, Erik. Lothar imprisoned Emma and he holds Swan’s spirit as well. That must be what you saw.”

  Erik’s face strained, eyes flashing, mind working.

  “You know of Lothar?”

  “Ja,” said Hallad. “Both Emma and Swan’s spirit are there.” Hallad gestured toward the towering rock of Castle Grimnear looming above them. “There is nei point of us fighting, whatever you believe of me. But if you join me, we have a better chance to free them.”

  The veins in Erik’s temples receded, his anger fizzling. Reason won over, but Hallad pressed on.

  “With or without you, Erik, I must proceed.”

  The two locked eyes, examining one another for long moments until a faint intake of breath fluttered behind Hallad. Hallad surged. The place inside him belonging to his sister stirred then faded. Expiring. Spinning on his heel he sprinted to Rota, taking Swan from her—his sister’s body limp, cold and pale.

  “She dies,” said Hallad, his voice small in his throat.

  “She cannot,” said Ase.

  “I can feel her leaving me.” Hallad’s face flushed with heat, his teeth grinding into one another. A piercing pain flared in his chest. “Nei,” he whispered. “I have not even gotten to know you, sister. You cannot leave me.”

  The spot belonging to Swan trembled within him—weakening, waning, dwindling.

  “You must bond,” stated Ase. “Now. The bond must happen now, before she heaves her last breath.”

  “How?” Hallad looked up through bleary eyes.

  Rolf, a woman, and a dwarf approached from out of the cavern at the cliff’s edge.

  “Nine.” Ase glanced around her, counting. “We need nine to complete the circle. I do not have the powers needed for the bond, but we must try.”

  The woman alongside Rolf stepped forward, her tone light and rich at the same time.

  “I do. I am Seretta, a songvari touched with all the elements of the Mother.”

  Ase’s eyes widened at the woman’s statement.

  “What about these lands? Are they too broken for a connection?” the priestess asked.

  “For me alone,” said the woman. “But we have two.” She gestured for Rolf to come to her side. “This man has the touch, and I believe he is strong enough to be a songvari. Our joined song may be able reach the Mother, even here, where she lies dormant.”

  Ase nodded while recalculating Rolf. Then she gathered them in a circle as she addressed the drengmaers.

  “You know the words, taught to us by Serpent Mother for the bonding between sal drengmaers. For those of you who do not know them,” Ase gestured toward Rolf, the dwarf, Jorn and Erik, “you must concentrate on connecting these two souls. Join hands and let’s begin.”

  Erik stood apart, refusing to come to the circle.

  Ase gestured him forward.

  “We need nine,” she said.

  “Nei,” replied Erik.

  “Come brother,” pleaded Rolf, but again, the elder brother shook his head, defying their plea.

  Hallad turned his eyes, heavy with wetness, on his friend.

  “Erik. Please,” he begged.

  Erik stared at Hallad. His gaze flicked to Swan, draped over Hallad’s arms, limbs slack, skin so white she seemed tinted blue. Erik lowered his eyes to study the ground.

  “Her time runs short, Erik.”

  Erik twitched, digging the ground with the toe of his boot, lost in thought.

  “I owe you my life, Erik. I have not forgotten the bond that we have and I will always honor it whether you want me to or not.”

  Erik’s eyelids flicked, considering.

  The dwarf interrupted. “I have traveled with you, Erik, because I believe in your quest, but more so, because I believe in you.” The little man’s eyes lit with compassion. “Over the many days of our travel I have come to know the man behind the stoic face. He’s a man who risks his own life to save a fallen dwarf. He’s a man who holds his brother’s love above the call of the Shadow. He’s a man who would not turn his back on his friend’s plea.” The dwarf held his fist over his chest. “He’s a man whose heart is larger than his pride.”

  Erik bowed his head at the dwarf’s words, nodding, acknowledging the little man with a slight grimace. Reluctantly, Erik stalked into the circle, joining hands with the others.

  Hallad heaved air into his lungs, and whispered, “Thank you, Erik. I will never forget this.”

  But Erik still refused to meet his gaze.

  The bonding song filled the air around them. White light coursed through Seretta’s—then Rolf’s—hands, seeking an outlet through the others, lighting the participants with a glow. Rota's and Olrun’s voices joined, rough against the smooth tenor and falsetto of the songvaris. Rolf uncannily picked up the words as he watched Seretta’s lips, singing as if he already knew the song. Ase and Gisla sang as well, the foreign words flowing out of their mouths, while the dwarf squeezed his eyes shut in concentration. Jorn stared, his mouth hung wide as the beam of light spread, turning into a half circle above the ground, enveloping the circle.

  The radiance warmed Hallad as he turned his attention to his sister, cradled within his lap. He pulled her tighter into his arms, staring down upon her placid face, her features like a sculpture in ice. Tipping his forehead to hers, he closed his lids and took in the coolness of her skin against the heat of his own.

  Please, sister, he thought. I need you.

  As he said the words, understanding seized him. He could not live his life and uphold his duties alone. He needed her. Hallad had worn his responsibilities like a badge, seeking his honor in the fulfillment of everyone else’s needs. As he looked back over the past, he realized he bore the brunt of everyone else’s troubles—trying to fix difficulties that did not belong to him. What belonged to him was a shared destiny with Swan. And this woman—his sister—who lay in his arms, was the first person to ever stand by him and try to remove the overwhelming burdens from his shoulders. He loved her more than he imagined he could love anyone.

  Swan appeared in his mind. Black tendrils snaked around her white form. Her head lulled to one side, the blue-black of her irises hiding behind the curtain of her heavy lids.

  Sister, he said.

  Swan opened her eyes and lifted her head at his voice, her bottomless gaze searching out his own. A smile lifted the corners of her lips at the sight of him, but her strength failed, and th
ey sank to a half-grimace. Her voice chimed in his mind—a lilting song lifting his spirit like bells at Springtide, clear as the blue of the sky, soft as a spring rain.

  The Shadow comes, Swan said, defeat stomping out the light in her eyes.

  Only if you allow him to.

  Around them, a river of black undulated, pressing toward them. A circle of white separated the darkness from them, but blackness splotched over the light, like ink spreading over linen.

  My ward weakens and I cannot break free of the bonds that bind me. Lothar is too strong.

  Nei, sister. Lothar is not the cause. You can only be held in the walk by your own fear.

  A hole ripped through the curtain of white, tendrils of blackness pouring through like the rush of a river.

  What do you fear, sister? asked Hallad.

  I thought I could free Emma and make it right for you and Erik, she said. I felt the pain within you brother. I know I was the cause.

  The blackness snaked through the space heading toward Swan.

  Nei, Hallad said. I caused my own pains by my inflated belief in my importance, making me believe I had to shoulder everyone’s problems. He paused. But what is it that you fear? he asked again.

  The blackness reached Swan, swirling up before her, the river of dark turning into a figure.

  I fear I am a burden to you, brother—that your life would have been better off without me in it.

  My whole existence has been spent alone. Until you. You fill the space inside me I always knew existed. I need you, sister.

  My strength wanes. I cannot hold back the Shadow any longer.

  You have me, sister. I am your strength, said Hallad, finally understanding his role as Guardian.

  He reached toward his sister and within a breath he stood next to her, blocking the ooze threatening to form in front of her. He grasped her hand through the spirals of black swirling about her. As he touched her, he focused on sending all his strength to her. A brilliant light bloomed where he held his sister's hand and the darkness binding Swan disappeared.

  The glow of white intensified. Hallad felt Swan's power return as her limbs and body lit, glowing around the edges. He sensed her draw a rune within her mind. The symbol illuminated the air, beaming in front of them then burst into a cloud of white, pushing back the Shadow until they stood alone inside the gray landscape.

  How is it that I am here with you? How are we speaking without saying the words aloud? asked Hallad.

  We are bonded. I feel your strength running through me.

  Swan smiled, the blue in her eyes bright against the burst of black.

  Hallad felt the truth of her statement. The place within him that had belonged to his sister bloomed with renewed potency, filling him up, the emptiness vanquished and for the first time in his life, he felt whole.

  We must free our sister from Lothar.

  Hallad nodded in agreement, belatedly realizing that Emma was her sister too.

  I will take us out of the shadowwalk.

  Swan’s voice echoed in Hallad’s mind as he opened his eyes. His sister still lay in his lap, but her face flushed. Her eyes opened, meeting his, and a smile spread her face, breaking the illusion of an ice carving.

  The circle of onlookers, still grasping hands, beheld the twins as their song ended. Silence pervaded, except for the occasional yip in the distance. Swan stood, testing her legs.

  Olrun barreled toward Swan, wrapping her massive arms around the young woman. Hallad felt the air squeezing from Swan’s lungs as the drengmaer lifted his sister and swung her in circles. Rota broke Olrun’s grip, rescuing Swan from her sal drengmaer’s hug, nudging in to deliver a hearty pat on Swan’s shoulder. The drengmaer turned to Hallad and slapped him on his back as well.

  “You truly are sal drengrs,” said Rota, a smile cracking her rocky façade.

  As the others congratulated Swan on her recovery and their new bond, Swan searched for Erik, but he refused to meet her gaze.

  Suddenly, from high above, a scream broke loose—a high pitched, terror-stricken, scream—Emma’s scream.

  Chapter 4 9

  “What have you done?” cried Emma as she caught sight of Whitefoot hanging from Lothar’s clenched fist. Emma knew she should stay clear, but instinct caused her to rush forward, grasping for the polecat.

  “You called off my wolves.” Flatness deadened Lothar’s black eyes as he stared at her.

  “They are not yours to command, or to starve until they’ve gone mad. They are gentle creatures and you abuse them to make them cruel.”

  Emma lunged for Whitefoot, but Lothar lifted his arm upward, the polecat out of her reach, Whitefoot's long body flopping with the movement. With his free hand the lord clutched the front of Emma's dress, wrinkling the sparkly material into a knot underneath his fist.

  “Stop it!” she cried. “You’re hurting him.”

  The sting of tears burnt her lids, breaking over her cheeks as she stared helplessly at Whitefoot. The polecat shifted, blinking his button eyes at her.

  Run, Emma.

  Whitefoot’s faint images played through Emma’s mind, but she shook her head at him.

  I will not leave you.

  Go. It’s too late for me. My back is broken.

  Emma heaved out a shriek from deep in her belly at the extent of Whitefoot’s injury.

  Lothar laughed, his waxy lips spreading over his teeth.

  “I have given you everything—dresses, jewelry, pastries, palaces. Finery nei Scandian woman has ever known. And you, you betray me.” Lothar’s grip on her gown dug deeper, catching the skin of her chest as he pressed her backward, his torso pressing into hers.

  “Give Whitefoot to me,” Emma begged.

  Lothar laughed again, a high-pitched squeak ending on a sharp note.

  “I wanted you to love me. Am I so terrible that you could not find it in your heart to love someone like me?”

  Emma registered the pain in the man’s eyes. She knew he’d been hurt in his past. Perhaps one time too many, but it didn’t excuse the damage he’d inflicted on the polecat.

  “Please, let me have Whitefoot,” she pleaded again.

  With her final appeal, Lothar’s eyes sharpened, dilating. He dropped the creature to the floor and Emma squealed out in agony for her companion as Whitefoot hit stone. She scrambled to reach him, but Lothar pulled her back by the fabric of her dress, forcing her against the wall.

  “You look beautiful in your wedding gown,” he said, smiling down upon her. The leer in his face sent a shiver through her body.

  “Erik is almost here.” Emma stared back into his flat black eyes, lifting her chin in defiance.

  “Nei, there is no way into the castle aside from the shadowwalk. He cannot scale the walls. You and I will have our union and I will call the wolves back to finish him and your brother.”

  “Hallad is here?”

  Lothar’s heat sunk into Emma, seeping through her gown, but the thought of Hallad sent her a surge of hope.

  “Not for long. I will collect your half-sister and return her to my Lord, but first, you must be silenced.”

  Lothar thrust his mouth onto Emma's, pressing her backward until her back flattened against the cold wall. With his free hand, he piled her skirts in his fists, pulling them upward, exposing her legs and grabbing at her flesh.

  *****

  Swan squeezed her eyes shut. Another scream raged above them, dissolving into a cry. Erik pitched forward, scrambling for a way up the cliff face. He stormed the base, reaching up with shaking hands to grip rocks, trying to find footholds as he climbed, but the stone gave way and Erik tumbled to the ground in an avalanche of rubble.

  Images erupted in Hallad’s mind: the pale, wax-colored lord squeezing Emma at her shoulders, pushing her against a stone wall, the back of Emma’s head smacked against the stone causing her lids to flutter, the glint of a blade piercing her neck, the man’s body pressed angrily to hers. He realized the images came from Swan as she viewed the
lord and their little sister through the shadowwalk.

  “Erik, you must go to Emma now. Go through the shadowwalk, not the dream. Think yourself there and go before Lothar takes her life.” As Swan’s command filled his head, Hallad spoke the words aloud to direct Erik. He reveled in the ease of their newfound connection.

  Erik’s face turned to the color of sour milk as he acknowledged the warning. His eyes bulged in concentration. His jaw fluttered as his teeth ground. For a moment, Hallad thought nothing would happen, but abruptly Erik’s body began to shimmer. The barren rock behind him shone clear through his form. A shot of coldness blasted from the vicinity of Erik's body. Hallad blinked and Erik disappeared into the dusk.

  We must help him. Swan’s voice boomed in Hallad’s head.

  Hallad plied the dyrr from his pocket in response. His sister reached for him, grabbing his hand in hers. She brushed her eyes sideways, sending him a readying glance with her blue-black eyes, and squeezed his hand once. Hallad inhaled. He read the runes flashing across the face of the dyrr.

  Hallad heard Rota's and Olrun’s footsteps in thunderous thumps as they ran toward them but the dyrr did not open a doorway in front of them. Instead, with his connection to Swan, the dyrr joined with her shadowwalk and their bodies flashed.

  Nausea filled the pit of Hallad’s stomach. A chill pierced his bones. The images around him spun. Olrun’s freckled face and Rota’s grimace melded with the landscape as they approached. The whirling world dizzied Hallad, spinning, swirling and darkening, but he stood hand in hand with his sister. When he realized the sensation of stomach sickness belonged to Swan, he willed himself to surrender his strength to her, entwining her fingers in his own and sensing her body respond by clearing the bile in her gut as they propelled themselves into the shadowwalk.

  A whirl of gray whipped. The feel of his sister’s palm cupping his own, her fingers between his, sent a wave of vigor throughout Hallad’s muscles.

  The whir around them settled. Erik came into view as Hallad struggled to keep both Swan and himself upright, as if sailors finding their sea legs on their first voyage. Behind Erik, Emma curled against the wall, peering at Lothar with hatred. Runaway strands of her hair strung over her face. Blood stained the sun-kissed locks. The crimson stream continued to spread down her neck, spoiling the magnificent dress she wore. Her skirts bore savage tears and Hallad’s muscles fired at the implication. Emma supported the lax body of a polecat within her arms as tears streamed over her cheeks. Erik planted himself between Lothar and Emma, his sword bearing witness to a slash in Lothar’s skin.