Broken: Book 2 of the ShadowLight Saga

by Mande Matthews

  SHADOWLIGHT SAGA

  Book II: Broken

  By

  Mande Matthews

  PUBLISHED BY:

  Guardian Tree Press

  ShadowLight Saga: Book II - Broken

  Copyright 2013 by Mande Matthews

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  GET A FREE SHADOWLIGHT SHORT

  Sign up for Mande Matthew's newsletter and

  GET A FREE SHADOWLIGHT SHORT STORY

  plus you'll be notified about

  new releases, contests, prizes, freebies, and special offers

  SUBSCRIBE HERE

  Visit

  www.MandeMatthews.com

  for maps, character guides, quizzes and more!

  Books by Mande Matthews

  SHADOWLIGHT SAGA SERIES

  The Light Keepers – a ShadowLight Saga Prequel – Available for Free!

  Bonded – Book One of the ShadowLight Saga – Available Now!

  Broken – Book Two of the ShadowLight Saga – Available Now!

  QUEEN'S HONOR SERIES

  Queen's Honor – Book I: Betrothal – Available For Free!

  Queen's Honor – Book II: Quest – Available Now!

  Dedication

  For my husband, who has put up with my obsessive compulsive need to write for over a decade, thank you for your patience, belief, and support.

  Secondly, I would like to dedicate this book to my readers. I have been so blessed with enthusiastic readers who send wonderful correspondence. When I sent out an email for Beta readers, I had an overwhelming and instant response. The gesture moved me to tears. Without readers, I’d be just an author rereading my stories to myself in solitude. The fact that I get to share my stories with wonderful readers has made my life feel like a dream. I am so lucky to have each and every one of you to share my characters' journeys, so this one’s for you!

  *****

  BROKEN

  "Between darkness and light, there is truth…"

  *****

  Recommendation

  If you haven't read the prequel or Bonded, book one of the ShadowLight Saga, it's recommended you start with the free prequel.

  You can download the free prequel, The Light Keepers, by clicking HERE.

  You can purchase Bonded, book one of the ShadowLight Saga, by clicking HERE.

  The Ages

  The Ages as passed down by the Norns:

  Aldr Songr (Age of Song): The first epic of time. The Guardian spoke the word and the Mother sang heaven and earth into existence (Alvenheim and Scandia). The Guardian and Mother populated the two worlds with Alves and Humans. Then a dark child sprang from the breast of the Mother, born deaf to her songs. He was named Loki.

  Aldr Skilja (Age of Separation): Jealous and angry of his fair brothers and sisters born with song on their lips, Loki sought out the Mother’s wellspring of power beneath the roots of the Guardian and used the magic to create dark creatures—wolves, ravens, beetles, snakes and all slithering, crawling, poisonous and ravenous beasts known to the worlds. Horrified, the Guardian spoke the word and created the in-between world: a world between fire and ice; a world of shadows where Loki could never touch the magic of the Mother again.

  Aldr Draumr (Age of Dreams): When the first walkers appeared. No one knew where their power came from, but both Alvens and Scandians were born with the ability to dream, see, and even walk between the worlds.

  Aldr Mannfall (Age of Slaughter): Loki had been forgotten in his far away prison, until he touched the walkers and became known as the Shadow. He poisoned their minds with trickery and deceit, using them to do his evil bidding. The division between walkers and Alvens born with the touch of the Mother became apparent. Walkers were suspected to be allied with the Shadow and branded with the raven. Those born in Alvenheim without the touch of the Mother rose against her—raping her, pillaging her.

  Aldr Pagall (Age of Silence): The age yet to come. The age that is feared. When the Mother falls silent to all.

  Aldr Okunnigr (Age of the Unknown): The age that will rise after the silence.

  Excerpt from the Völuspá

  Brothers will fight

  and kill each other,

  sisters' children

  will defile kinship.

  It is harsh in the world,

  whoredom rife

  —an axe age, a sword age

  —shields are riven—

  a wind age, a wolf age—

  before the world goes headlong.

  No man will have

  mercy on another.

  Prologue

  The Guardian, exiled for ages on the Isle of Glittering Plains, knew it had begun—the two had been bonded; he sensed it through the tree roots, digging into the heart of the Mother. But he knew the dangers. He knew the traps. He’d fallen into those pitfalls himself. Still, he hoped beyond reason that the two’s shared bond would be strong enough to allow them to look beyond and see what was… before it was too late.

  Chapter 1

  The Palace of Glitner was never dark.

  Even in the blackest hours before dawn, rune stones illuminated the corridor as Astrid crept down the hallway. She lightened her step. Her foot fell noiselessly so as not to arouse attention; she feared her twin brother, Hallad, would be upset if he knew what she was up to.

  The cheers from the crowd as she and Hallad had walked through Glitner's streets the night before continued to pound in her skull. She could still see them in her head: hopeful, shining faces hailing their arrival as if they were gods. The First of Glitner had met them as they proceeded through the city, and it had seemed as if the entire population crowded the streets to witness the arrival of the Guardian and the Svenna—titles Astrid still couldn't fathom, titles that remained a mystery as to what they meant for her and Hallad's futures. Though her mother had always told her how important she was to the fate of the lands, Astrid had never understood the gravity of that proclamation until then.

  After their entrance into the city, the First had escorted them back to the Palace and had shown them their quarters; a full wing of the castle-like creation that sat atop of Glitner's highest point. The buildings glowed white in the sunlight with towering turrets wrapped in flader vines, and at night the power of song bound into rune stones illuminated the interior as if a warm wash of sunset filtered throughout every corner and crevice.

  But, the Palace didn't feel warm to Astrid.

  Once settled into their accommodations, Ravenna, First of Glitner, had warned them. “Beware. Though the crowd received you well this evening, there are reports of unrest due to Hallad's previous entrance to our city with sword in hand. Never mind for tonight though. Rest well, for the days to follow will test your stamina as the fate of the Mother has fallen upon you. We will deal with what is to come on the morrow.”

  With a word from the First’s lips and a swipe of her hand, branches had sprung from the walls and entwined into an impassable mass, locking them in their portion of the Palace. Trapping them.

  Even though
the First had claimed it was for their safety, even though they retained an entire wing with several chambers and hallways for their use, it seemed more like imprisonment to Astrid.

  What did these people expect from us? To be heroes? To save them?

  Astrid's pulse quaked as she rounded another corner in the never-ending hallways of the Palace. Since arriving in Glitner, since the crowd hailed Hallad and her as the land's saviors, Astrid’s nerves pinched, and she craved one object and one object alone—the weapon she was forbidden to use.

  She reached up to soothe the throb in her temples as she accelerated into a jog, but the sensation of her fingers digging into her forehead did little to relieve the constant buzz of worry.

  If she does not sing, the Shadow will devour us all.

  Her mother's long ago prediction spiraled through her memory, then sparked an even darker thought.

  What if Balin didn't succeed in returning Mamma to Alvenheim? What if she's—

  Astrid pushed the question away, unable to endure the possibility of having lost her mother for good. The last time she'd seen her mother, Isla had been so frail, but Astrid had hoped Balin would find a way to make good on his promise and return her mother to Alvenheim where contact with the Mother might heal her. Yet since they had arrived, there had been no sign of either Isla or her warrior.

  Even Hallad’s steady breath couldn’t settle her as she snuck through another winding hallway. She sensed him in that special spot inside her mind that belonged to him. Since their bonding, that space had expanded within her, nearly encompassing her. She knew his thoughts, his emotions, and his whereabouts without thinking about them. They were just there as if they were her own.

  At that moment she knew he slept in a nearby chamber, fallen late from exhaustion. His constant presence, regardless of his whereabouts, soothed her like a balm over burned skin. But it was just that—a balm. Underneath, even though they had bonded, even though she sensed his strength running through her, an inkling of darkness still remained slithering somewhere inside. She’d hoped their connection would change her mother’s prophecy, but the darkness she’d always felt was still there.

  Just buried.

  Astrid shielded her thoughts so as not to wake Hallad with her worries while she crept down one more corridor and through a doorway until she finally spotted her target.

  Rota sat upright—eyes closed, muscles tight, spiked hair a blaze of red—guarding a pile of weaponry. Her muscled arm spread over the heap as if to protect their forbidden treasures even while she dozed. They had relinquished their weapons upon entering the Palace as a promise to keep the peace in a land that outlawed the use of such instruments. The hall’s light revealed the object of Astrid’s desire—the hilt of her sword. She exhaled as she settled her gaze upon it.

  Glancing around, she quickly scanned the room, wondering where Emma, Olrun and Jorn were. The other members of the Lion Clan, along with the dwarf, camped on the floor in their bedrolls while the old priestess, Ase, and her apprentice, Gisla, shared the bed, but the three others were nowhere to be seen.

  Astrid tiptoed around Rota, mindful not to disturb her… just yet. As her hand gripped the cool, hard iron, her eyelids sunk, sending a rush of relief throughout her body. She understood the need to abandon her weapon in the heart of a land that feared the sight of steel—the slice of a blade through a branch possessed the ability to hurt the land—but her arms longed to heft its weight. She wedged her sword from the pile, causing a faint ring to accompany the removal.

  Rota shot to her feet, snatched her own weapon and swirled to face Astrid; the tip of her blade stopped a hair’s width from Astrid’s breastplate.

  The young woman did not budge; she stood as straight as her sword, as if Rota’s blade was meant for spreading butter.

  "Sweet Freyja, woman! I almost ran you through!"

  The surrounding warriors popped open their eyes, but Rota signed the "all is well" command with a wriggle of her fingers. Some rolled over; others grunted while rearranging their bedding, and a chorus of snores resumed.

  "Savior or not, why do you have to sneak up on people all the time?"

  Rota glared, her brows collapsing into her stubby face. The head drengmaer of the Lion Clan—with sworn loyalty to Astrid and her brother—squatted, attempting to ease back into her position, but Astrid whisked her sword from its sheath and prodded Rota’s rump with the point of her steel.

  A scowl flashed across the drengmaer’s face. She stopped her descent to the floor in mid-squat.

  Astrid replied by raising her brows into a challenge. My nerves require the solace of my sword, she wanted to explain.

  It bothered her that she still couldn't speak outside of the shadowwalk. The bond to her brother had opened up a channel to communicate directly with his mind, but otherwise she remained as mute as she had ever been and that frustrated the young woman—especially with all of Glitner's expectations weighing heavily on her shoulders.

  Regardless of the young woman’s inability to speak, Rota understood. The fire-haired drengmaer rolled with the quickness of a she-lion, scampered to her feet and bolted into the hallway. She swiveled around to face Astrid’s pursuit.

  "Not so quick now are you, white rabbit?" The shorter woman thrust her sword, reaching to advance on Astrid.

  Quick enough to keep your stumpy arms out of reach! Astrid dodged to the side, spun around and sliced.

  The drengmaer’s metal met her own and the force of iron against iron sent a tremor of pleasure through Astrid’s muscles. The clang echoed in the hallway, and the women paced backwards together—steel pressing against steel—seeking a spot further away from their companions so as not to disturb them.

  Entwined flader bush vines served as doors; all in the immediate section remained open except the entrance to their wing of the Palace, where the First had locked them in the night before for their safety, leaving the warriors space for their exercise. As the women thrust and blocked one another’s attacks, the tension rolled from Astrid. Her thoughts stilled, relieving her pressures. The whiz of her blade against the air blanketed her like warm comfort in a cold night.

  Until a crowd of angry voices sounded in the stillness.

  Sister? Hallad’s voice swamped Astrid’s head. Any trace of tiredness fled from his tone. She sensed him—even though he remained several corridors and chambers away—scramble from his coverings, pull on his trousers and race toward the hallway.

  The noise grew to a clamor.

  I'm here, Brother.

  Astrid and Rota ceased their practice, spun and sped toward the sealed exit. The young woman sent her twin a mental flash of her whereabouts but knew, that even without the communication, he’d find her by his senses alone.

  The women skidded to the end of the corridor, facing the massive vine-entwined door.

  The indecipherable shouting rebounded down the hallways.

  What’s happening? asked Hallad. Are you in danger?

  Astrid sensed his panic and replied to calm him, Nei, Brother. I am well, but I don’t know what’s going on.

  The shouting intensified, as if an arguing mass of hundreds milled outside the Palace.

  Rota searched for a release to open the door. Finding none, she banged her fist against the wall and yelled, "By the fury of Freyja, open up!"

  When no one answered, Rota pressed her fingers into the vines, searching for a stronghold to force the branches apart.

  Hallad’s presence flooded Astrid as he bounded up beside her—she didn’t need to turn to realize he was there; he filled every corner of her being as if her limbs had just rejoined her body. She also didn’t need to hear his voice to know he questioned the sword in her hand; she sensed his raised brow as if it were her own.

  Hallad’s broad hand covered Rota’s, prying her fingers back from the door. "You cannot untangle it by force, Rota. Only the Mother’s song works here."

  The drengmaer snorted, desisting. The rest of the Lion Clan scuttled in behind
the twins and Rota with their own swords and axes in hand.

  "Nei, weapons," Hallad scolded.

  Glares met his command, and he continued inside his head, That goes for you, too, Sister.

  But we don’t know what’s happening.

  Regardless, we’ll meet it with reason, not force. We have promised to lay down our weapons, and I intend on keeping my word.

  Astrid loosened her grip on her hilt. She didn’t want to disappoint him more than she already had, but her nerves still clanged the alarm bells underneath her skin; her instincts told her to keep on alert.

  The Lion Clan lowered their weapons at Hallad’s command. Rota hand signaled her crew. Identical drengmaer twins advanced, retrieving the weapons from their sisters, but Astrid refused to give hers over, ignoring both the girls.

  Hallad’s gaze swept disapprovingly over Astrid's sword before he knocked on the wall and yelled, "Is anyone there?"

  Silence responded.

  Hallad tried again. "We require assistance opening the door."

  A timid voice replied from the other side. "I cannot, Guardian. The First ordered the door to remain closed for your safety."

  We do not require protection!

  Nei, Sister, soothed Hallad. The answer is not in anger.

  "Then tell us what is happening."

  The woman remained silent.

  "We require the knowledge to remain safe. Surely you understand as much," Hallad reasoned.

  "I fear," the woman’s tone cracked as she spoke, "it is a riot, My Lord."