Winter Warrior (Song of the Aura, Book Two)

by Gregory J. Downs

  It was sopping; it was bedraggled and half-dead. It was the best, most beautiful creature he had ever seen.

  It was his black falconhorse.

  “HA!” he yelled, swaying and almost toppling. The mount whinnied in surprise and reared back, then shot forward with a flap of its wings and put its neck under his arm before he could fall. “Yes,” he moaned weakly, “Loyal to the end. You survived, slave. I need you still.”

  The falconhorse blew a raspberry, as if to say You’ll die without me and you know it. I deserve more. Fine. Gramling decided he could live with that.

  Stepping back, he managed to stand on his own feet. “We will be equals, you and I, falconhorse. I know you have the power of speech, as do all enchanted beasts. So my first desire as an equal is this: tell me your name.”

  The falconhorse neighed, rearing up and pawing the air madly. Almost in a scream, it yelled out in a tongue almost identical to human speech.

  “I AM CALLED BONEDALE, MILORD! COMMAND ME, AND I WILL CARRY YOU WHEREVER YOU WISH. TO KERBUS OR HALLA ITSELF I WILL BEAR YOU! NONE WILL BE STRONG ENOUGH TO WITHSTAND US BOTH!”

  Gramling laughed, long and loud. This was a better start than he ever could have hoped for. “Hell’s bells, Bonedale! If all falconhorses are as well spoken as you, I wonder how you were ever enslaved to humans in the first place!”

  Bonedale did scream, then: a horse’s scream, deafeningly loud and ear-shatteringly high. Then he stood stone-still, and his red eyes glowed too brightly to look at.

  “Aura,” he said simply, and his voice dripped hatred- an overwhelming display of emotion in a usually unemotional animal… though Gramling now doubted Bonedale was simple enough to be classified as such. He grinned.

  “You’ve given me the inkling of a plan. Where are we, Bonedale?”

  “Hammerdrankdulaiin to my Air-born brethren. You would call it the Grymclaw.”

  “Good, I suspected as much. Fly me away from here, Bonedale. We will need food and shelter until we have both regained our strength and I have replenished my power.”

  “And then?”

  “Then, my vengeful wingéd friend, we will hunt down an Aura.”

  To Be Continued...

  CAST of CHARACTERS in SONG OF THE AURA

  Allfar: One of the legendary Aura. Not much is known of him, but he is commonly associated with Wind and Sky elements, in the old rites. Spectansis is his Nymphtongue name.

  Argoz Greenwood: The Cleric of Ymeer, who also succeeded Ymorio Highfast as the Dunelord of Ymeer.

  Amarand: The cleric of the Zain tribe, and master to Variand, the Zain scribe.

  Aura, The: Eleven ancient spirits sung into being by the Creator when he fashioned the world. They are the guardians of the many races inhabiting Vast and the lands beyond; however, in recent days belief in their existence has wavered. They now rarely show themselves to mortals, and only three have been reported to still frequent Vast at all.

  Avtar: A silverguard of Ymeer, who accompanies Gribly and Lauro on their journey to the Inkwell. Presumably killed in a Sea Demon attack.

  Bernarl: A Zain ship’s captain and former pirate, once an ally of the mysterious King Gram, the Lord of Rogues. Possibly the only exception to the general lacking among the Zain of a Second Form. Commonly called “Berne” by his friends and allies. By all gathered accounts, there is more to this sailor than meets the eye.

  Bonedale: A dark falconhorse, raised in the pits of Blast, currently serving the Pit Strider Gramling.

  Byornleo “Byorne” Hallifar: One of the oldest and deadliest rangers, and a friend to Old Murie. He frequented the fight pits of Ymeer, where he was known as “Longstrider.” His fighting prowess put him at the top of the pack, and in a perfect position to spy for Vastion.

  Creator, The: The God of all worlds, Who is responsible for the world of Sceptre and everything in it: Vast, Realm, Rune, Nation, and all the lands beyond.

  Crutus: A bouncer at the Old Pickpocket’s wine-shop, who also deals in the slave trade. He is the brother of Shele, a fight pit contestant.

  Elia: A Sea Nymph female of the Treele Tribe. Also a Wave Strider.

  Golden One, The: Master of Pit Striders. Possibly an escaped member of the Legion.

  Gramling: A Pit Strider with a strange resemblance to Gribly. His master, the mysterious Golden One, has tasked him with either converting or killing the young thief.

  Gribly: A street thief formerly of Ymeer. He has manifested extraordinary abilities in Sand Striding, and is rumored to be the Prophet of the Aura.

  Karmidigan: A prodigiously powerful Reethe Frost Strider

  Kell: A silverguard of Ymeer, who accompanies Gribly and Lauro on their journey to the Inkwell. Presumably killed in a Sea Demon attack.

  Larion Vale: King of Vastion, the last surviving kingdom in Vast.

  Lauro Vale: Prince of Vastion, and Gribly’s uneasy friend. He is seemingly on the run from his own father.

  Legion, The: Nine Archdemons bound in the underworld of Kerbus at the beginning of time. They were once Aura, but became corrupted with pride in their own power. They wished to rule the world, and were banished for it.

  Lithric: The nymph cleric of Mythigrad.

  M’tant, The: A mysterious tribe of Wood Nymphs residing in the Blackwood, Northeast of the Grymclaw.

  Marmat: A silverguard of Ymeer, who accompanies Gribly and Lauro on their journey to the Inkwell. Presumably killed in a Sea Demon attack.

  Murie: A Vastic Ranger stationed in Ymeer. Called “Old Murie” by most of the inhabitants, she disguised herself as a gypsy to blend in, allowing her to care for and protect Gribly as he grew older and learned to use his gift.

  Old Pickpocket, The: A former thief and black market trader specializing in strong drink. He is crippled from the waist down.

  Reethe, The: The northernmost of the three Sea Nymph tribes. Their Second Form resembles the icy snow they inhabit. It is stronger than the Second Form of the Treele, and most often used in combat or in the harsh winter storms that often lash the Inkwell.

  Roko Smallword: Head Cook in Vastion’s capital city.

  Shele: A mysterious woman living in the underbelly of Ymeer. Her brother Crutus pressured her to put her martial skills to use in the fight pits, which she reluctantly agreed to. Her recent losses have put the freedom of her only daughter at risk. She goes by the alias “Shadow.”

  Steamclaw: A pit draik of Blast. Called Nebulekef in the Nymphtongue.

  Traveller: One of the many names taken by the Gray Aura. Commonly called Viator among the Sea Nymphs of the Inkwell.

  Treele, The: The easternmost of the three Sea Nymph tribes. Their Second Form is watery and translucent, much like the waves they commonly inhabit.

  Varstis: Raitharch of Mythigrad, Lord of the Sanquegrad, King of the Reethe. He is a nymph of more than respectable reputation, though there are rumors he had dealt with pirates in his youth.

  Wanderwillow: The commonly used name for the Brown Aura, who is rumored to reside in the Grymclaw.

  Windfellow: A falconhorse under the service of Traveller, the Gray Aura. Wendfilo in the nymphtongue.

  Ymorio Highfast: Dunelord of Ymeer. Ruthless, intelligent and handsome, Ymorio kept himself in power far longer than any previous Dunelord; partially due to his more than competent Sand Striding abilities.

  Zain, The: The southernmost of the three Sea Nymph tribes. Unlike their brethren, they are restricted to a single mortal form. This may be due to the long periods of time spent on the land, or on the crafted wooden ships they use for trade.

  STRIDING the ELEMENTS in SONG OF THE AURA

  In the land of Vast, it is commonly held that the physical world consists of Five Elements. Three are of the World, and Two are of the Otherworld. The three World Elements are Sea, Sky, and Stone. The two Otherworld Elements are Spirit and Pit.

  Occasionally, a man or nymph will be born with the ability to manipulate part of an Element. Such a being is known as a Strider, and their ability is re
ffered to as Striding. Most Striders are born with the ability to Stride only part of a World Element. This ability usually manifests itself sometime in early adolescence.

  The precepts and limits of Striding an Otherworld Element are unknown; however, it is generally accepted among scholarly circles that the so-called sorcerers and magicians are really just common men and women who have discovered some aspect of Pit Striding. The power of cleric “prayers” is sometimes attributed to Spirit Striding.

  In ancient times, Striders could manipulate an entire World Element, and sometimes even combine their power with some part of an Otherworld Element. The abilities of Striding have genetically decreased over time, however, and Striding an entire element is now unheard of.

  At the time of the events recorded in the Song of the Aura, some of the aforementioned facts have begun to be disputed. It is even prophesied by some of the less orthodox clerics in Vastion and beyond that there will soon arise those capable of surpassing even the most talented Striders of the past. Whether or not this is true remains to be seen…

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS for SONG OF THE AURA

  Well, this book has been a journey. It began as a short book, which became a long book, which became another short book, which became a very long book, which was split into three parts. Eventually it was decided to be a nine-part series… and then, even that changed. What you’re reading is one of what is now six parts, and I have several special people to thank for helping it get to the point it's at.

  Firstly, I thank God. He's given me my talent, and He's swept me off my feet with what He can do.

  Secondly, through God, I've had the grace to work with some amazing people, who I'd like to thank individually.

  My mom: for doing an incredible job refining and pruning my story to a readable point.

  My brother: for being the first reader and the first fan.

  Nathanael: for reading through and pointing out the dumb mistakes that slip by me constantly.

  Thirdly, I thank the teen writing workshop members from the spring program at my library: they don't know it, but without them the character of Gribly would never have been invented... and there would have been no story to tell.

  Lastly, I thank all the people and groups who gave me support and fellowship on the path of writing: my friends, my family, my heroes, my helpers. We're Striders together, all of us…

  ABOUT the AUTHOR and the BOOK

  I’m the author of several novels, including the standalone Arthurian novel Mordred, as well as the Song of the Aura series. Having grown up reading the likes of Tolkien, Jacques, Lewis, and Jordan, it was only a matter of time before my imagination grew too explosive to contain, and one day it spilled out onto paper as the first lines of my first story.

  As far as my life goes, I like all sorts of fantasy games, movies, and books. I’m a soccer player, a wannabe musician, and an active Catholic. I was homeschooled for most of my life, allowing me to finish my first novel by age 16. By 17, I’d written four. Into college and beyond, I hope to continue writing novels that both inspire and enlighten you, the reader… just make sure to have fun while you’re at it, OK?

  I hope you've enjoyed this book- but whether you liked it or hated it, I value your opinion. Reviews are hugely appreciated. Thank you, and May the great Creator of the world send His Aura to protect you!

  To visit my blog, go to www.epicbloggjd.blogspot.com.

  To become a fan of the Song of the Aura series, go to www.facebook.com/songoftheaura.

  To become a fan of Mordred, go to www.facebook.com/Excather.

  BOOKS by GREGORY J. DOWNS

  SONG OF THE AURA

  Brother Thief

  Winter Warrior

  Grym Prophet

  Golden Tide

  Dire Sparks

  Storm Kings

  THE EXCATHER CYCLE

  Mordred

  Book Two, coming late 2012

  SHORT STORY COLLECTIONS

  Dreams of Steel

  STANDALONE FANTASY

  Ghostwalker, coming Summer 2012

  PREVIEW OF

  -THE SONG OF THE AURA-

  BOOK THREE

  -GRYM PROPHET-

  …From the smooth white floorboards beneath his bed, Lauro produced a tough gray satchel and slung it over his shoulder, then bent down and brought out an extra pillow and heavy blanket. With these he soon created a passable imitation of a prone body, which he stuffed under his sheets and covered with the lip of another blanket. As good a decoy as could be made.

  Straightening, Lauro headed for the door with a grin on his face, taking care not to make sounds that could wake Gribly. Time for another quest- and this time, he would not fail.

  Two more stops, and he’d be free.

  Sliding down dark, frosty hallways and quietly descending drafty staircases, the prince was soon at his first destination: the Reethe armory.

  “Wind Strider?” the guard’s voice was curious but unafraid as Lauro approached from down the wide, frostrock hallway.

  “Hail, Patnel,” the prince answered, bowing slightly. “Sleep escapes me tonight. How goes your watch?” He had spent a large amount of his time befriending this and other members of the fortress guard who dwelt in the Sanquegrad, all in preparation for this one night. Now his efforts would pay off, if he kept his head.

  He was soon deep in casual conversation with Patnel, who seemed as willing as any man to have jovial company in the lonely night’s watch. Soon, seated at a low whitewood table in one corner of the armory, they shared a bottle of the strange blue wine perfected by the Reethe. As they talked animatedly of the events that had so recently rocked the Reethe city of Mythigrad to its core, Lauro stealthily scanned the tall racks of weapons and armor that lined each wall of the armory, twenty feet high, twice as wide, and almost four times as long. There was no doubt at all in his mind that he could find a suitable weapon here to replace the shortsword he had lost in the wreck of the Mirrorwave almost two weeks ago.

  “…As I was saying,” Patnel continued in the high-pitched, slow accent most nymphs who could speak the common tongue acquired, “there isn’t much we can know- or hope to know, really- about the Aura who dwells in the Grymclaw. We Reethe have had few enough dealings with the outside world in the past, and even fewer now that we’ve split with our M’tant brethren in the Blackwood. Not to mention the fact that no one’s actually ever met one of the Aura before… it’s only rumors that say one lives in the Grymclaw at all…” And on and on.

  Lauro had heard most of it already, and from more reliable sources than Patnel. There were few towns and no cities in the bleak peninsula of the Grymclaw, but if he was to survive he would need to find at least one of them. He thought he could, without much trouble; then it would just be a matter of time before he could figure out from rumors where the legendary being was said to abide. With his ever-increasing powers over the wind, he could easily move on from there.

  “…do you suppose?” finished Patnel, sitting back and propping his feet up on the table, obviously waiting for an answer to his question. Lauro’s mind raced- what had the guard been saying? Suddenly, the answer came to him, and he almost laughed.

  “I don’t know about the others,” Lauro answered, a little too quickly, “But my wind-striding will help me find the Aura the quickest, for sure.”

  “How so?” Patnel asked, raising an eyebrow and swigging more wine from a whitewood tumbler. Lauro sipped at his own, eyeing Patnel’s for a second before meeting the nymph’s eyes.

  “You’re draining the drink rather quickly, aren’t you?” Lauro chuckled, and Patnel grinned, his teeth stained blue. “More?”

  “Indeed- hic!” smiled the guard, passing his cup. Lauro swayed as he took it, acting more inebriated than he actually was. When he grasped for the wine bottle, it fell on its side, spilling out over Patnel’s side of the table. The nymph cursed good-naturedly, hiccupping as he righted it. Two seconds for his gaze to be distracted, but it was enough. Lauro took th
e bottle from him and poured the rest of its contents into Patnel’s tumbler before passing it back. “Thankee,” the nymph grinned, sounding for all the world like any common human drunk that Lauro had ever encountered. The prince nodded shakily, acknowledging the thanks, and mopped up the spill with a rag lying nearby, usually used to polish blades.