by J. E. Klimov
The Shadow Warrior
Also by J.E. Klimov
THE AEONIANS
The Aeonians
The Shadow Warrior
The Shadow
Warrior
The Aeonians, Book 2
By
J.E. Klimov
SILVER LEAF BOOKS LLC
HOLLISTON, MASSACHUSETTS
THE SHADOW WARRIOR
Copyright © 2018 by J.E. Klimov
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locations or persons, living or deceased, is entirely coincidental.
Printed and bound in the United States. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system—except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine, newspaper, or on the Web—without the express written consent of Silver Leaf Books, LLC.
The Silver Leaf Books logo is a registered trademarks of Silver Leaf Books, LLC.
All Silver Leaf Books characters, character names, and the distinctive likeness thereof are trademarks of Silver Leaf Books, LLC.
Cover Art by Sophie Edwards.
First printing September 2018
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
ISBN # 978-1-60975-231-6
ISBN (eBook) # 978-1-60975-232-3
LCCN # 2018946439
Silver Leaf Books, LLC
P.O. Box 6460
Holliston, MA 01746
+1-888-823-6450
Visit our web site at www.SilverLeafBooks.com
Acknowledgements
I would like to thank Silver Leaf Books. They have accepted me wholeheartedly into their publishing family and gave me a chance with my debut novel, “The Aeonians,” and still kept me on board for this sequel! Also, I’m grateful to those that took the time to help me polish this novel so it could shine, including Becky Van Niel, Katie Van Niel, and my dear friends from Scribophile. You know who you are.
To Ruth.
The Shadow Warrior
PROLOGUE
The butcher’s cleaver split the fowl in half. As feathers scattered into the air, his beady eyes remained glued on Tomas. The youth’s lips stretched into a thin line; he refused to be intimidated.
“Two goose thighs for the freak,” the butcher rumbled, slamming the bloody mess onto the counter.
Flecks of red rained on Tomas’ cheeks. Wiping it away with his snow-white sleeves, he steadied his breath. He jutted out his jaw. “Aren’t you going to wrap it?”
“I’ll wrap it when you wrap up those nasty piercings.”
In one fluid motion, Tomas pulled his leather necklace from beneath the collar of his tunic. A bloodstone hung from it, filling the space between them with an orange glow. Panic forked across the butcher’s face.
“I know what you’re doing,” Tomas asserted. “But until all Healers cease to exist, you will treat us like everyone else.” His heart thundered in between his ears. Only the Queen or Princess, the chiefs of each tribe, and the Healers were allowed to possess the blessed stones of power. Light faded from Tomas’ bloodstone as he frowned. An unwelcome fact forced its way into his thoughts: a recent decree had been issued to strip Healers from the privileged list, and that law was close to completion.
The crinkle of parchment resounded in the air, snapping Tomas from his reverie. When the butcher shoved the meat at Tomas, he nodded in triumph, swiveled in his leather boots, and passed a family of three. They shriveled against the wall, whispering to one another.
Tomas gripped the doorknob so tightly, his knuckles turned white. Today was a big day, and there was no time to fall victim to verbal daggers. After he exited the butcher’s shop, he sprinted home.
His lungs burned as greenery whipped past in a blur. Once the hint of incense hit his nose, Tomas smiled. He was almost home. A line of fir trees stood like huddled soldiers on top of a hill. Brushing past the thick branches, he waved at a figure with thick, flowing locks that stood in front of an alcove.
“Mother! I’m back!” Glee filled his voice.
The woman, draped in a white shawl, spread her arms wide. Tattoos covered both arms like a long-sleeved shirt. Tomas collided into her warm body. “Such a good boy. Or should I say, young man?” Her eyes crinkled at the corners. Brushing aside strands of raven hair from his forehead, she said, “You looked like your father just now.”
Tomas’ eyes lingered on her ears. One piercing held a bloodstone like his. It flickered to the beat of her heart. However, a lump on the ground a few feet behind her caught his attention. A little girl dressed in black knelt by what looked like a shroud.
Taking the packaged meat, she said, “Did the people in town give you a hard time today?”
“Not… really,” he replied, fiddling with the line of silver studs running up the bridge of his nose. When his mother opened her mouth, he held his hand up. “I’m not ashamed of staying here with you. I don’t care what the new law says; I still want to be a Healer, even if it means living in hiding.”
The girl approached them. She appeared about eleven years old, and her eyes shimmered beneath the fleeting rays of light. Dark clouds crept around the edges of the sun.
“Meet Olivia,” his mother said, voice gentle as a mid-summer breeze.
The girl stared at her feet. Tomas could barely make out her trembling shoulders. “Olivia? Named after the first Queen of Deran? It’s very pretty.” He knelt beside her and tilted her chin up.
Pain splintered across his chest. Olivia’s agony. That was the first sign of a Healer in training. Turning toward his mother, she nodded gravely. Closing his eyes, he focused on the sensation: it was searing hot, and stung as if rolling around in needles. It felt so real, tears soaked his lashes.
“Are you the one who will save Daddy?”
Her silky voice snapped his eyes open. He’d passed all stages of his training, received his traditional tattoos and piercings, and successfully healed minor injuries such as bruises and cuts. Now it was time to prove that he could perform the ultimate power of Healers. Tomas offered a warm smile. “Yes. I will do everything in my power to bring him back to life.”
His hands moved methodically around the shroud. Plucking the cloth like strings on a harp, Tomas hummed the prayers his mother taught him. He looked past the ghastly face and imagined a living, breathing soul. The bloodstone warmed against his chest as he traced his fingertips down the carotid artery. Broken blisters from the infection that had taken his life faded.
“Thank you for entrusting your father to our care. I’m confident my son will succeed,” his mother said to Olivia. She paused. “And after that, I hope the royal family will reconsider their decision and accept Healers once again.”
Smiling to himself, Tomas focused on his compassion and empathy. A fire sparked within his core as the bloodstone shined and vibrated. His hands glowed with iridescent light, and he hovered them over the man’s body from head to toe, pouring his life-force through his stone. When his knees started to shake, the man gasped.
“Papa!” Olivia cried in joy, replenishing Tomas’ exhaustion with satisfaction.
Her father blinked, still sucking in quick, shallow breaths. His eyes widened, gazing left and right. Tomas struggled to his feet. Offering his hand to the newly resurrected man, he said, “Welcome back, sir. Your daughter is waiting for you.”
Olivia hugged her father’s midsection. Facing his mother, Tomas beamed. Not every Healer could achieve what he had just done.
“I did it…” He stared at his hands. “I brought someone b
ack to life.”
“Yes, love. This proves that the Deranian royal family shouldn’t take our powers away. The work we do is good.”
Before he opened his mouth, a bone-grinding snap filled the air. Turning his head, Tomas shouted in horror. Olivia fell to the ground, on top of her father’s shroud. The man heaved and grunted, body jerking in various directions.
Tomas’ heart plummeted. He swung an arm in front of his mother as the man stalked over his dead daughter and toward them. “Stop! What are you doing?”
“It… it was eating my flesh!” the father shouted, voice orotund. Lines of blood leaked from scratch marks as he pawed his face.
“Mother,” he murmured while keeping an eye on the threat. “How could this be? The side effects are rare!”
“Should be rare.” His mother’s hot breath shot alarm up his spine.
In a flash of gray and maroon, the two-hundred-pound force collided with Tomas. Air rushed from his lungs. He pounded his fists against the cold mound of flesh. When the man rolled away, a scream pierced the air. Thunder responded.
Lightning sprawled across the sky, illuminating his mother, who was lifted a few feet off the ground. She struggled against the man’s grip on her neck. Her face blanched to the point where she looked as lifeless as the man Tomas had resurrected.
“Mother!” Tomas lunged.
An elbow knocked him back onto the ground. Streaks of pain radiated down his skull. After thunder crashed and ebbed, his mother’s voice faded. Rubbing his eyes, Tomas gleaned every ounce of energy to sit up. He jolted at a body landing beside him.
A broken whisper came out as a wheeze. “Tomas.”
As soon as his mother came into focus, Tomas bit his tongue and climbed on top of her. “Let me try and heal you,” he said, no longer able to restrain his voice from the unshakable tremor. However, his bloodstone remained dull. Tomas barely had the strength to move.
She raised a finger to her bloodstone earring. “Don’t let anyone take it away from you.” Blood filled the corners of her lips.
“Maybe Princess Febe was right.” His chest ached as memories flooded his mind. All the bloodstones had been successfully shattered at the hands of Deranian guards one by one, except his and his mother’s, because of healing powers gone wrong.
“Hush!” she coughed.
Footsteps splashed in the mud.
“We’re good people. This is… a good power.” With a final sigh, she was gone.
Tomas unhooked her earring and faced the monster he had created. “What’s wrong with you? I gave you a second chance at life!”
“I should be dead! Dead, I say!” The man’s features hardened as he tensed, like a wolf about to pounce.
Tomas popped his mother’s stone into his mouth. He gagged, but forced it down his throat.
Grabbing his collar, the man lifted Tomas. “Reverse it! End me right now!”
Tomas cycled his legs. His mind brewed like the storm above. This wasn’t his destiny. He was supposed to appeal to the royal family and continue the Healer legacy. But his creation stared him in the eye with inhuman rage.
Bright orange burst between the two. Tomas’ stone of power burned against his flesh. “I can’t harm you. It’s not in my blood. Besides, your life is now tied to my own.”
“Okay, then.” The man cracked a gap-toothed smile.
The world spun upside down. A lone lightning bolt zipped above. As meaty hands thrust him downward, Tomas squeezed his eyes shut and braced for impact.
CHAPTER
1
Bence’s stomach sank as Lea Island faded into the horizon like an emerald slipping into the depths of the sea. His fingers curled around the side of the boat. The tropical island with cream white sand off the coast of Deran should’ve been his sanctuary after the Aeonian War. Uninhabited, it was the ideal place for him to live out the remainder of his days, tucked away from the wrath of the Deranian kingdom.
The sail flapped above Bence’s head. Waves sloshed around the boat’s hull, testing every nerve in his body. He was not used to traveling on water. Bence swallowed the bile that crept up his throat and fixed his eyes on the distant speck. The sun washed over the entire island. Isabel had to be awake by now.
Bence flinched as if slapped. Uncertainty weighed on his shoulders like a Dunya sitting on him.
I left her. I actually left her.
Racing thoughts had plagued him like a never-ending nightmare ever since he’d run into Princess Isabel last night. He would never say it out loud, but she looked like an angel beneath the glow of the two moons, Adin and Deva.
Wide orbs of hazel, her eyes had grown sheen with tears that cascaded down her face. He had dropped the branches he gathered, speechless as if his throat closed up. She stole his breath away. The moment he had laid eyes on her, joy and guilt wrestled through his veins. Even though he had turned against his brethren, pledged his allegiance to her, and defeated the Aeonians, he still remained an Aeonian. And as an Aeonian, he had done unspeakable things.
There had been no sudden movements. All she said was that she had traveled to Lea Island to seek peace. He eyed her magical armlet, but the four stones embedded in gold remained dormant. When he realized she wasn’t there to arrest him, he gestured to a tree stump. They sat together in silence beside a crackling fire. No questions asked.
She rested her head on his shoulder, and as she drifted to sleep, she said, “Thank you.”
Maybe she was simply shocked to find him alive. But today was a new day, and Princess Isabel would have to return to her kingdom. And she probably would’ve tried to convince him to accompany her. His insides twisted like restless hands. Each time Bence blinked, he saw the lives of people and creatures he had taken in the name of his parents. With a heart as heavy as steel, he had abandoned her sleeping beneath his cloak. It was the least he could do to leave her that simple warmth.
Combing his fingers through his blood-orange hair and down his face, he felt it. The Aeonian scar on his neck. His hand continued down to his satchel. Past the bundle of coconuts, mangoes, and bananas, he fingered a ring that couldn’t slide past his first knuckle. When he withdrew the metallic circle, Bence frowned. An engraving of a phoenix, the Deranian seal, adorned the oval face. Grains of sand wedged in the fine lines. Like the scoundrel he was, he had twisted it from Isabel’s hand before taking off. He stared intently. Cursing beneath his breath, Bence couldn’t shake the anxiety swelling in his chest like a balloon.
The woman he had been taught was the enemy had turned out to be his most trustworthy companion. A part of him screamed betrayal for abandoning her, but another part argued that there was no other way. Bence couldn’t task her with bringing him to Deran where he was sure to be executed─whether Princess Isabel wanted it or not. He had killed too much. Stolen. Tortured.
His jaw clenched. Her people would demand it.
As these thoughts whirled between his ears like a cyclone, Bence forgot his seasickness. Lea Island disappeared from view. Ocean stretched across the horizon. Panic pricked his skin from the soles of his feet to his scalp. Bence had no idea what sea travel was like, and whether or not he was going to survive this journey.
He had no other choice. He had to leave his shameful past in Deran behind and establish a new life as a regular citizen, and not a pawn in someone else’s fight. There were two possible destinations: Irelle and Waaken.
The homeland of his parents, Echidna and Damian, piqued his curiosity. Maybe there was some closure he could seek by visiting their place of birth or discover a relative. And more importantly, settle down in peace.
Bence scanned the skies. It was close to mid-day, making it difficult to decipher which direction he was headed, but he had to sail north. Irelle was much closer than Waaken. That was all he knew.
A rumble vibrated through the air. Gray clouds rolled in from his right, filling the space below it with a dark haze. Waves swelled. Drops of ice-cold sea water splattered on his face, stinging his sunburnt chee
ks.
“I should’ve covered my face. Damn it,” he croaked as thirst came to the forefront to his mind. Even the passing breeze felt like sand rubbing against his skin.
Sweat and salt filled his nostrils as the wind picked up. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. There were no signs of land anywhere. Bence adjusted the sailboat’s rudder, and ducked as the boom swung over his head. His confidence on maneuvering a modest boat teetered at best, but he had to figure it out before the storm caught up. Once he directed the vessel away from the wall of darkness, he wrapped his arms around his satchel. All he could do was wait. Eyeing a succulent mango, he drew his dagger and peeled the skin off. The juice dripped down his fingertips as he tried to catch every single drop.
When thunder echoed louder, he forced his attention to the sweet meat of the fruit that melted in his mouth. Hunger dominated his concern of the inevitable storm as he gobbled down four bananas and one coconut. Once he was satisfied, Bence leaned back. Peeking at his satchel, Bence’s shoulders slumped. If it took that much to fill him, his supply wouldn’t sustain him for longer than twenty-four hours.
Sighing, Bence took inventory of exactly how much food he had. His fingers grazed over a lump in a side-pocket. Raising a brow, he pulled the lip of the pocket open and gasped. A black pearl the size of his thumbnail glistened. As he racked his brain, he realized this was the pearl he stole during his adventures at Kai’s Sanctuary. If Isabel had known he stole from them, she’d be furious. Not that it mattered anymore. He rolled the smooth orb in between his fingers and recalled the memory from that day.
Like a lodestone, the pearl drew his thoughts to the present. To Isabel, whom he left behind. To the tempest that was drawing closer. Bence grasped the pearl, squeezing hard. A part of him wished he could crush this little reminder of Isabel. When he lifted his fingers one by one, he growled at the pearl staring back at him. It glimmered in mockery. Bence wound his arm back. Every fiber in his bicep tensed in preparation to hurl the pearl into the ocean, but he froze.
