Road To Shandara (Book One of The Safanarion Order) (4 page)

Aaron sighed, his selfish angst leaving him
.
“I’ll go," he said. How could he do otherwise?

The remainder of the morning flew by in a whirlwind of preparation. Aaron wore his only suit. The last time he wore this suit was at a formal dinner with Bronwyn’s family, that very same night when he learned of her betrayal with another guy. He clamped down with his teeth, but a new thought sparked into his mind. Maybe Tara was right and he should talk to her. In the face of death you have the opportunity to realize how trivial some things really are. People do make mistakes he mused, but the strangle hold his anger had on him wouldn’t let go. He just couldn’t let it go.

***

The funeral was outside at the local cemetery and the crowd that gathered surprised him. His grandfather had touched more lives than he realized and it filled him with a sense of pride that he was beloved by so many. He closed his eyes soaking in the noonday sun from a clear blue sky. A soft breeze toyed through the air while voices of those around him drifted away on the soft eddies of the wind. He began to focus within without realizing it. He drank in slow easy breaths that with each exhalation he could sense the energy of all things around him. He delved deeper within while projecting his own energy out. The energy danced all around and gathered to him. He felt the calling to move the way he did with the Falcons and then a presence was suddenly there. His breath caught in his throat as something cold and dark washed over him and his back stiffened. The world once vibrant with color faded to shadowy gray.

Aaron knew it was that very same presence that attacked him at the school. He didn’t know what to do. The presence felt more potent. Aaron could smell it’s foulness stealing away the freshness of the air. He opened his eyes and began to scan the crowd. He saw it walking among the people gathered for the funeral. Thunder boomed in the clear sky that no one else seemed to hear. The figure was hooded as it had been in his dreams. He made his way to the other side of the casket across from Aaron, so that all that separated them was the body of his grandfather. He drew his hands up to remove his hood in a slow deliberate motion. Aaron’s heart thundered in his chest as the hood fell away and he heard the sharp crack of a whip that stiffened all the muscles in his body. Soulless black eyes housed in a ghostly white head sneered at him. He had a strong imposing face of high cheekbones and a pronounced chin that dominated his chiseled features. He was completely hairless and he carried an air of absolute arrogance that all were beneath him. The shadows drew around him in direct contrast to Aaron’s light, but Aaron grudgingly met his gaze.

“Ferasdiam has laid her mark upon you, scion of the house Alenzar’seth." His voice was like granite. He gave a carnivorous smirk of knowing, “A pity," he said releasing Aaron from his gaze and instead studying his surroundings with disdain.

Aaron sucked in a breath and stood rooted in place as the whip cracked again and the being stood directly in front of him. His massive hand reaching toward him and the white pearl in his medallion flared to life. The being recoiled his hand and stepped back with a look of uncertainty flashing across those soulless black eyes.

“Beware, you have this day to mourn. Then you’re mine," he screeched the last word with such vehemence Aaron could feel his breath rush passed his face.

A hand gently gripped his shoulder and he looked up to see his mother prodding him to get up. The people at the funeral were beginning to disperse. He got up quickly and began to follow the crowd scanning the area, all the while hearing the echo of those last words and he shuddered.

Eventually he got to his Jeep preferring to drive by himself than ride with his family. He loosened his necktie tossing it into the center console when he heard her voice call his name from behind. There was a time when her smooth voice sounded like heaven to him, and despite all his efforts to banish her from his heart, her voice still affected him. Why couldn’t he just forget her? He took a deep breath and turned around.

“Hello Bronwyn." He said and his heart twisted up in knots as she stared back at him with her honey-brown eyes and rich brown hair spilling down her back. She wore a simple black dress which made her natural beauty appeared to be anything but simple.

“I’m so sorry about your grandfather, Aaron. I know how much he meant to you. Are you okay?” She asked.

“My sister said you stopped by yesterday. Thank you, but you didn’t have to do that."

“Yes I did," she challenged. “He meant something to me too and your family has always been good to me." She replied. When Aaron did not say anything, she continued. “I’ve wanted to see you, but I know..." She began.

All the anguish and betrayal welled up in him, “Why did you do it?” He blurted out.

Bronwyn took a step closer and put her hand on his arm, her eyes brimming. “I’m sorry Aaron. I made a mistake. I didn’t know what I was doing." She paused, “No that isn’t right, I won’t offer you any excuses. What I did was wrong, Aaron.”

Hearing his name from her lips cut his heart in two. Both halves were fighting, one wanting nothing more than to take her in his arms, the other wanted to get as far away from her as possible so the pain would go away.

“How can I know if you won’t make another mistake like this again? I mean, you’ve taken everything we had and tossed it away. I thought what we had was special and enduring, and you ruined it! You can’t get that back!” The bitterness of his words cut him as he saw the pain in her eyes.

“It is special, I can only say I’m sorry. I want to be with you. Please won’t you give me another chance?” She asked.

It would be so easy to just take her in his arms and hold her. How he yearned to do that even now in the midst of all the anger and pain, but his anger would not relent. “I don’t think you deserve another chance." He sneered. “You stay away from me." He screamed. Earning them some worried looks from the departing funeral procession. “All that we’ve had is dead!” The words left his lips without any thought. His anger taking him to a place where reason and clarity had no home, and the wisdom of his core began to rebel against grief’s foolishness.
She doesn’t deserve this.

“That’s not true. This wouldn’t hurt so bad if there wasn’t something there. Aaron please, can’t you find it in your heart to forgive me?” She said desperately. “What we have is not dead," she said defiantly.

“I can’t be with you," he growled. Those cruel words broke her resolve. Let her be the one to hurt for a while. He glared at her as he got into his Jeep and sped off leaving her there with tears streaming down her face. His own tears came in bitter defiance to his anger.
You are a fool,
he thought to himself and struck the steering wheel with his fist over and over again.

He looked into the rear view mirror and soulless black eyes stared back at him. After a moment they flashed and disappeared, but he heard the echo of mirthless laughter that drained the heat from his blood.
One day soon you will discover that your life is nothing like you thought it would be.
The words from his grandfather’s letter lurked in the back of his mind. He glared at the rear view mirror and his fist shattered it and all the while the mirthless laughter never ceased in his mind.

C
HAPTER
5

ANOTHER WORLD

THE TIME WAS noon in the cursed kingdom of Shandara, but one would never know it. Life was all but forsaken as the lands were covered in decay and darkness reigned supreme. Whispers of a glorious past lived in the stone remnants found throughout this once proud kingdom in the land known as Safanar. Nothing but wasteland dominated this once lush and fertile kingdom. The old kingdom of Shandara was a jewel upon Safanar that was unparalleled and the palace, a triumph of human and Hythariam kind. Now it was all but a corpse. A cold result of his own recklessness. This was his prison, an outcast banished to this forsaken land where he had once been the guardian for all, but now he was just a shadow. How he longed to feel the warmth of sunlight on his face, to drink clean water and eat food. Oh how he missed food, even more he missed the sunlight on his face, but his prison forbade both.

He was a shadow, his soul was ripped from his body, which remained imprisoned in the earth fiendishly preserved as a reminder of a prison he couldn’t escape. Sunlight was deadly to him as it could erase his very essence. The shadows were where he had been now for more than a score of years. Despair claimed him in the beginning, then madness where he roamed like any other specter, and now a bitter contempt for a prison that had no walls. He was cursed to forever be a witness to the life of others. This was the price he paid for not having faith to accept the truth of things. The truth may be presented, but if you are blind there are consequences for your actions or in, his case, inaction. But what parent isn’t blind to a child’s shortcomings? A feeble argument compared to the destruction it caused and the silence from all the lives lost at the fall of Shandara was his answer.

Here where darkness reigned supreme he had little worry about the sun, which was safely tucked away behind a perpetual wall of clouds. He could still remember with unwavering clarity, those last days. The days when his old friend Reymius had fled Safanar with his only daughter Carlowen to stop the evil that was unleashed. He felt the faint stirrings of a heart that was no longer there. It began yesterday like an itch that needed to be scratched. Beckoning and constant, yet unobtrusive and gaining in urgency.
Come to Shandara. Return to the palace, Colind your role is not yet finished.
The resolute tone was reminiscent of Reymius, but how could that be? If Reymius did in fact return to Safanar that could only mean one thing. Reymius was dead. Only he could reach across the planes of death to Colind if there was great need. A scant flicker of hope that the winds were indeed changing began to stir within him.

He closed in on the palace and reluctantly looked up. The legendary ivory walls were scorched and riddled with cracks where they hadn’t shattered altogether. Of the twenty towers, a mere six remained standing. His guilt crushed down upon him as he entered through the south gate. He cast his eyes to the ground unable to stand the sight of Shandara in such a state. He made his way to the sacred grove that lay in the heart of the palace.

Years of living in the shadows allowed him to instinctively sense when the sunlight was near and those instincts saved him. Within one pace the line of darkness gave way to the light and Colind looked to the sky in awe as shafts of sunlight dotted this once proud city. His gaze drew downward to the heart of the sacred grove and what he saw almost caused him to run perilously into the light. The ancient tree of Shandara gleamed under the sun.

A figure shrouded in his own luminescence sat at the base of the sacred tree slowly looked up and smiled sadly. Colind stopped unable to go any further and inched forward despite the danger. A barrage of memories swept over him.
Reymius?
The figure nodded in understanding.

“My friend, please tell me that you and Carlowen were spared, that you escaped the fall?” He asked desperately falling to his knees. The apparition nodded again and Colind sagged with relief as a great weight lifted from his shoulders. Colind began to speak again and the luminescent shade of Reymius glided forth coming before his slumped form. His eyes were full of patient understanding and loving friendship that warmed Colind’s lonely heart. For a few fleeting moments he thought he could feel the ground beneath his knees and taste the sweet air of the sacred grove once again. In one fluid motion Reymius raised his hand to Colind’s forehead linking them. Images of a young man fanned through Colind’s mind.

The heir of Shandara, my grandson
.

Reymius’s grandson has been marked by fate and he must go to him. The Dark One was already on the hunt and the trials were about to begin. Colind felt desperation through the link and backed away knowing what he must do. He must guide Reymius’s heir to transverse the crossroads between worlds facing the perils between life and death.

You are meant to guide, not to interfere. Colind you are forbidden to interfere. Aaron must choose his own path if there is to be any hope. These are his trials to overcome.

Those cruel words echoed in his mind.
Once again he still would be the observer.
Well we’ll see about that.
The shade of Reymius as if hearing his thoughts fixed him with a rigid gaze then faded into the sacred tree and disappeared. Colind glared at the sacred tree of Shandara for a few moments. He would accept his charge despite his imprisonment. He was
still
a guardian of the land and he had a debt to the house of Alenzar’seth.

Both he and Reymius had given an oath to protect the land and to keep his heir safe. He would do all that he must in service of the goddess despite his loyalty to the house of Alenzar’seth, the keepers of Shandara.

Colind withdrew from the sacred grove and eventually made his way to the gates of the palace. The journey would have been much easier had he simply traveled through the walls, but the part of him that clung to remnants of his humanity refused to give in. He must travel to the crossroads in order to journey to the heir of Shandara. He must not balk at this task, he chided himself. The goddess saw fit to give him a second chance and he must not falter. This could be the redemption that he had waited so long for. He would have a chance to set right some of the wrongs that occurred so long ago. To do this he would need to confront Tarimus once again. Thoughts of Tarimus tore his heart in two and a single name appeared in his mind with utter contempt.
Mactar. All roads of betrayal lead to your doorstep and we shall meet again.

C
HAPTER
6

THE FOG BEGINS TO LIFT

A GREAT MARBLE statue of a dragon peered its thunderous gaze down at him. Its massive wings spread and Aaron stood there taking in the awesome presence before him. The moonlight silhouette of the dragon gave the appearance of it glowing from its own luminescence. The fringes of his vision were blurred to his surroundings, as if he were peering through a window with water streaming down the edges. But the statue was clear and unwavering in his dream. Since he first slept with the medallion around his neck his nights had been filled with dreams of places he had never seen before. But no matter the dream, sooner or later he was in a colosseum with marble columns running down each side to a statue at the end. The statue would sometimes be a tree, intricate in its design and detail as if the stone were once a living entity. His gaze returned to the dragon, which was now a giant clock with its minute hand counting backwards. Counting down to something. He spun in time to see walls of the temple stripped away revealing a black void. He turned to the clock and it shattered into nothingness. A sudden cold ripped the breath from his lungs and the sinister laughter began.