The Dragon Blade
Page 1
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
The Dragon Blade
by P.D. ATKERSON
The Dragon Blade (of Aleanare book 1)
Copyright © 2019 P.D. Atkerson
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 9781791550813
This is a work of fiction. Names, places and any reference, are the product of the author's imagination and are used fictitiously.
Cover design by Natasha Atkerson
Edited by Natasha and Lorna Atkerson
Published in the United States of America
Illustrations by Natasha Atkerson
Dedication to:
The Creator and His Son.
Chapter 1
"Tales are told and stories made, but legends are lived."
The Assassin's Son
Aroron sat bolt upright and glanced around. Moonlight from the window painted the room in an eerie blue light. His heart pounded against his chest, his finger nails digging into the blankets, as he tries to control his breathing.
As he sat there, he racked his brain. He couldn't remember why he'd woken up so scared. He knew he'd been shocked by something but couldn't remember anything that would have woken him like that.
The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, as a shadow fell over his bed. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and froze.
He sat there, as still as a statue, not sure what to do.
Before he knew what was happening, a cold hand touched his cheek. It clasped around his mouth, its long, skeleton like fingers dug into his skin and held tightly.
He stiffened, his heart starting to pound even harder. Was the person a killer? Is this how he was going to die? Wrapped up in his blankets? Without any way of defending himself? A sickening feeling entered his stomach. He didn't want to die, not like this!
His first instinct was to grab his attacker by the wrist and twist himself free. Then he would try and make a grab at his sword, lying on the table not more than three feet from his bedside.
His attacker sensed what he was thinking and moved behind him, making it impossible for Aroron to grab his wrist.
His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. Should he try and roll off the bed? Flip over and lunge at the man? Or just stay there and not move, hoping he'd live? Luckily for him he didn't have to choose.
"Quiet," his attacker whispered, in his ear.
At the same time, Aroron heard the sound of the night guard, passing his door. Aroron wondered if the guard could hear his pounding heart through the wall.
The two of them stood there, silent, waiting for the guard to pass. His attacker's hot breath sent a shiver down his back. But Aroron relaxed, and his breathing started to slow.
He knew the man's voice, almost as well as he knew his own. It was the voice of his father, Shon Normel, Loyal Guard and right-hand man to King Munay (ruler of Karlay).
Thank goodness! Aroron thought, as he took in a deep breath and tried to calm himself.
Shon let him go and took a step back. Shadows played on his face, as he struck his match box, and reached up to light the torch hanging above Aroron's bed. The red and orange flames flickered to life, banishing the shadows to the darkest corners of the bedroom chamber.
Aroron let out another deep breath and dropped back against his pillow. He blinked a couple of times as his eyes adjusted to the light.
The black roof above, looked back at him. He could imagine some strange creature living up there, just waiting to attack! A crazy thought to have after what just happened to him.
"What's going on?" Aroron asked. Yawning as he slid his legs out from under the warm covers, and into the cold night air. As his foot touched the stone floor, he shivered, and quickly pulled his leg back under the covers.
He was glad it was his father, and not a mad man out to kill him. Well, a mad man he didn't know.
Shon wasn't supposed to be back till late next week. It had been nearly a month since Aroron had seen him. Why is he back early? Aroron knew the reason wasn't good.
A cold breeze hit his face, causing the hair on his arms to stand up.
He shivered and glanced up at the wall behind him, the window above his bed, hung open. The wind knocked the shutter against the wall.
Aroron wondered if that was what had woken him up.
But why was he breathing so hard about that? It wasn't out of the normal to hear the shutters move at night.
He turned back to his father. "Why did you sneak into my room?" he asked.
Aroron's room was next to the outer wall of the castle, nearly two hundred feet from the ground, with no balcony and no windows to climb into until you reached his bedroom window.
Shon wore all black, except for the red lining of his cloak, which nearly reached the ground. A brown leather belt was tied around his waist, holding his sword, along with knives of a dozen different sizes.
Shon's dark gray eyes had a brightness about them Aroron had never seen before, not even when his mother was alive. What is going on? He wondered. What was his father up to?
He glanced down and noticed Shon's boots were scratched and his sleeves were pushed up, revealing a small dragon head tattoo on his left wrist, and small scars all over his upper and lower arms.
Shon slung his bag over his shoulder and turned to Aroron. His normally calm face etched with worry.
"Aroron, there are things about me you don't know and probably don't want to," he said, looking up at the roof with a sigh. "But I won't try and fool myself into believing I can hide the truth any longer from you." He looked back down and his eyes searched Aroron's. "You don't know this, but... there's no way around it!" He lowered his head and sighed. "Aroron, I'm an assassin for King Munay. I have been for the past fourteen years. The Loyal Warriors are all assassins," he blurted, his face paled and he quickly turned away.
Aroron stood, hot tears beginning to form in his eyes. He'd known, deep down. I'm not stupid, he thought, as he wiped the tears away. How could he not know?
All those nights when he was younger, and he'd heard his mother crying when Shon was gone for more than a week. The whispering between his parents, which always turned to yelling. And there was the fact that his father had been so callous when she died! He didn't even seem to grieve. It was like he'd known it was going to happen. He probably did!
Aroron hated the way he was feeling. But at the same time, he wanted to make Shon pay! For as long as he could remember, Shon had taught him to control his emotions. But right then, Aroron didn't want to control them.
He wanted to hate his father! For some strange reason, it took some of the pain of losing his mother away. It made him feel better.
He'd always feared Munay was behind his mother's death and Shon had known and did nothing about it. This proved it. Munay was a killer, why wouldn't he kill Aroron's mother too?
It took months after her death
before he even spoke to his father, and years before he forgave him, or at least he'd tried to forgive him. Now, he wasn't sure he wanted to.
So, in a way, he'd known! But to hear it come out of his father's mouth made it worse.
He killed her, I just know it! Aroron thought, as his hands began to shake.
Shon knelt and placed a hand on his shoulder. But Aroron quickly pulled away.
"Get away from me!" Aroron yelled. "You're a killer! Who knows how many lives you've taken!" he said, as a tear slid down his face. "I knew it! It was your fault mother died. You were probably the one who killed her! You're nothing but a..." he started to say more, but Shon clasped a hand over his mouth.
Aroron glared at his father, as he bit down, and Shon pulled away with a yelp.
"I hate you!" Aroron said, as he scooted his back up against the wall.
Shon glanced towards the door, then back at Aroron. "If you want to get us killed, then keep yelling," Shon whispered, nursing his injured hand.
Aroron looked at Shon's hand and watched as blood dripped down his knuckles. He hadn't meant to bite him that hard.
Shon glared at him, slowly he realized what Aroron had just said to him and stiffened. "You think I killed her?" he asked. "You think I killed my own wife?!" He stepped towards Aroron. "You can hate me all you want, but you better never, ever say something like that ever again!" he said, pointing a finger at Aroron.
"What am I supposed to think?" Aroron asked. "You were gone, and I know she didn't die naturally. You just admitted to being an assassin!"
Shon turned away and rubbed the back of his neck. There was a long pause before he spoke again. "Why didn't you ever ask me?"
Is he mad? Aroron wondered.
"Ask you?" He almost laughed. "Ask the man I thought killed my mother? Yeah... that would have been a great idea."
Shon spun around, and for the first time in Aroron's life, he saw his father cry. "I would never have hurt her, or you..." he said. "But you're right, Aroron. It was my fault she died," he said, covering his face with his hands. "I was stupid enough to tell Munay she was a follower of the Restorer!"
Aroron rolled his eyes. "The Restorer? That's crazy!" He snorted. "Even if that's true, it doesn't make up for what you did. How many families have you destroyed? How many men, and probably women, have you killed for King Munay? Dozens? Hundreds? How many lives have you ruined?!"
Shon dropped his hands from his face and looked at Aroron. "Hundreds," Shon whispered. "Happy now?"
No, no I'm not, Aroron thought. "Yes, because I want to know the truth of who you are. You're a murderer and I wish you were dead!" he said, flopping back on his bed.
Shon's face whitened and he quickly turned away. "You have no idea how many times I've wished that myself," he said. "When I wake up in the night, with the face of one of the people I've killed burned into my memory."
Aroron sat up, his mind a mess. It's true, he's a killer... "Why are you telling me all of this now? After all this time?" he asked, his throat tightening as he fought back tears.
Shon moved over and knelt next to Aroron. "Aroron, tonight I... I heard..." He sighed and his head dropped down onto the bed and he groaned. "I heard... the King talking." He wasn't looking at Aroron any longer, but at the wall behind him. "King Munay has a weapon, a weapon more powerful than anything else in existence. He's going to use it to take over the world." Shon paused. "He also heard how well you fight and he... he wants to make you a Loyal Warrior, like... me. Now if you don't want that to happen, we have to leave."
In that moment, Aroron's mind completely changed. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, he thought. He could make a name for himself, maybe one day he could become a king, like Munay.
"No!"
Aroron froze, he didn't audibly hear the voice, but he knew it had spoken. It was like a small part of him, when it spoke it was always right. Aroron knew it was right this time too. Then the other voice spoke,
"But think about it..." it seemed to hiss. "If you were powerful, people would fear you and you would be great!" Aroron groaned and bent down. I don't care. I'm not going to be like him! I don't want to be a king. Aroron sat up, he looked at his father. "I... I... don't want to be an... an assassin." he stuttered, as he glanced towards his sword.
It's too far away, he thought, then it hit him. What was I going to do? Kill him? I wouldn't be any better than him, you idiot! He wanted to slap himself for even thinking it.
To Aroron's shock and relief, Shon laughed. He bent over and kissed him on the forehead. Okay... Aroron thought, unsure of what was happening or what had changed his father so much in such a short time.
"You have no idea how glad I am to hear you say that!" Shon said. "A few weeks ago, it might have been different. But I don't want to see you live with the regrets I have," Shon said, as he placed a hand on Aroron's shoulder, this time Aroron didn't pull away. "I rolled the dice and I will take responsibility for my actions," Shon said. "Aroron, I know you probably won't believe me. But I cared for you and your mother, with all my heart, even if it might be a small heart. The day you came into my life, was the best day ever. You seemed to be the only light in this dark world." Shon gripped Aroron's shoulder. "I may not deserve you, but I do care what happens to you and I don't want you to ever doubt that. You have a bright future, I'd rather die than see you become like me." Shon looked at the ground. "I love you too much to let that happen."
For some reason, the last sentence was like a knife to Aroron's heart. His father had never said he loved him before. What had come over him? What had changed him so quickly?
Aroron didn't know why, but he stood up and wrapped his arms around his father's neck. "I... I... love you too." It was then Aroron realized he meant it. He's my father, how can I not? He's the one who raised me! He was the only one Aroron loved, even if it was a strange kind of love, that neither of them understood.
Shon cleared his throat and pulled away. He quickly wiped away the tears forming in his eyes. "I don't deserve your love, but I will try and be worthy of it." He bit his lip, lowered his head and looked away. "Aroron, there's something else I need to tell you..."
"Dong! Dong! Dong!" They both fell silent as they heard the bell toll.
Shon's voice was low when he spoke again, "It's the warning bell, someone knows what I did."
Aroron's eyes grew wide. "What did you do?"
"I let my anger get the best of me. I... I set fire to the throne room!" Shon grabbed something off the floor and handed it to Aroron. "Hurry and put this on," he said.
It was Aroron's dark blue cloak, not much different from Shon's.
Aroron didn't hesitate, he stood and pulled it around his shoulders, clipping it around his neck. He pulled on it, as the metal clip dug into his neck.
"And get your boots on," Shon ordered. "Now that they know about the fire in the throne room, we don't have much time."
Aroron sat on his bed, grabbed his boots and slid his feet into them. They were made of scratched up, black leather and they went nearly to his knees, with three buckles holding them against his legs. Aroron smiled to himself, as he tightened one of the buckles.
It feels strangely good to finally have everything out in the open, he thought to himself.
"What are we going to do now?" Aroron asked, finishing tightening the buckles. He grabbed his sword off the table, tied it around his waist and looked up at his father.
"Now is not the time to talk. We're leaving the castle and traveling a long way away from here." Before Aroron could say another word, Shon blew out the torch and stepped away.
As the darkness engulfed the room, his father's hand wrapped around his arm and pulled him towards the door.
When they reached the door, Aroron took one last glance back, and wondered if he'd ever see this room again.
Chapter 2
Cold Night
Once in the cold, dark corridor, Shon pulled his hood up and Aroron quickly followed suit. A strange feeling sweeping over him.
Even though Aroron was thirteen years into his life, and as skilled with the sword as anyone twice his age, these corridors inside the castle were endless, dark and eerie, and he hated them!
It's as if they hold an ancient secret of dread and death. The thought caused him to tighten the cloak around himself. Who knew how many people had died within these walls?
Even in daylight, the place caused goosebumps to form on his arms and the hairs to stand up on his neck. It was nothing compared to how he felt right then, as he walked through the hall, his hood pulled up over his head, his father, a thin lurking shadow ahead of him.
Aroron shivered and rubbed his arms, he had to get over this!
It was madness to fear the dark.
He'd had the fear since his mother's death, and knew he was going to have it for a long time. He still remembered being scared out of his mind when he found his dead mother and knew someone had been in their cabin. He hadn't seen anything in the darkness, the killer had gotten away.
Seeing the killer in his sleep was just one of the many consequences because of it. He'd never told his father, and he wasn't going to. His father would laugh and tell him to get over it.
Aroron was sure his father wasn't afraid of anything.
He clenched his fists and looked around. The darkness swallowed up everything and everyone, in the murky blackness. Although there were curtains and torches on both sides of the hallway, they did little to light their way. The flames flickered and moved. A gust of wind blew through, from seemingly nowhere.
Aroron closed his eyes and listened.
The wind whispered in his ears, words he couldn't understand.
Words long forgotten by humanity, known only by the old Elouns in the East.
For some reason Aroron longed to know what they were saying. Maybe one day he would travel to the Moonlight Forest. Perhaps meet an Eloun who knew the old language and would tell him what it said. He laughed at the thought, he knew both the Elouns and the Moonlight Forest were just stories.