Road To Shandara (Book One of The Safanarion Order) (7 page)

Aaron shuddered as the voices trailed behind him. He gripped the Falcons in his lap, but when he looked back up at the window Tarimus was gone. He closed his eyes and began to stretch out with his feelings. The life energy of all those around him became apparent, but of the malevolent force that was Tarimus there was not a trace. Had he really been there? He needed to meet Tarimus on his own terms, but he never knew where or when he would come next. An idea popped into his head. Perhaps he could meet Tarimus on his own terms after all. With a plan formulating in his mind he sped off.

C
HAPTER
9

WHAT COMES NEXT

LIKE A LINE drawn in the sand he could wait no longer before the tide came in to wash him away. He knelt before a small fire whose flames danced rhythmically before him. Zeus sat beyond the fire watching intently sensing the power that gathered around him. Was this how it was supposed to happen? Tonight he would bring Tarimus to him the only way he knew how. Dreams.
You always have mastery over your dreams if you remember what they are
. His grandfather had recently told him of a world that existed between the dream world and the waking world. A world that had different rules where the threat of death was in fact a reality. It was a risk he was going to take, because doing nothing would have a greater price than this.

Aaron knelt poised before the fire, seemly not to blink as he gathered himself converging all thought to separate his consciousness from the waking world. Fire became his world, fanning the flames that became his center. All the anger could not replace the question of why this was happening. Figuring out why would become his quest, his constant thought until it was done, for he knew that he would have no peace in his life until he faced whatever hand that fate had dealt him. This was something he would have to accept. He drew deeper into a trance, the energy seeping from below the earth filling him with a power that he channeled inwardly. Focusing all his thoughts he let go of the last string keeping hold of him in the waking world and entered the dream state.

Aaron found himself in a burned out shell of a church. The proud walls held few remnants of its gleaming past, and the creamy pillars lining the main thoroughfare were dilapidated to an unfortunate state. The stained glass windows were all but gone allowing the soft glow of the moonlight to enter. The cavernous hall echoed his footsteps as he walked the length of the main chamber. Before him appeared a great chalice where a fire flared to life.

The fire illuminated the darkened church revealing a series of painted scenes off to the right. The first mural depicted a luminescent figure dancing amidst a forest glade while a lone shaft of moonlight beamed down from the heavens. The scene juxtaposed into a crowd gathered around a coffin. A dark menacing figure bowing slightly to the figure in white. Aaron froze. These murals were showing recent events from his life. He gasped as the torches along the columns burst to life revealing murals spanning the length of the room and then back again along the other side. He charged down the hall trying to see all of them and figure out their meaning. He came before one and stopped. The lightened figure knelt over a reddened figure before a great tree and for some unknown reason this struck a sense of forbidden and profound sadness weighing him down. The white figure began to move forming a circle of light around the reddened figure. The motion of the white figure beckoned to Aaron and his pulse raced. The white figure as if sensing his presence leaped from the mural in a blur. Everywhere he looked he saw the blurring motion of the figure in white. He felt the medallion grow warm against his chest and the white light drew towards him, filling him until he thought he would burst and still it came on. Aaron held his arms out and let out a mournful call releasing all the power that gathered in him. The murals disappeared in sudden clouds of smoke and dust. When he turned around Tarimus stood before the great chalice of fire. In this place Tarimus seemed more real than he had before, something more than a ghost. They were in the place between the waking world and the dream world and Aaron knew by the triumphant smile on Tarimus’s face that this is what he had wanted all along.

“Who pulls your strings Tarimus?” Aaron asked starting to close the gap between them. Tarimus’s face narrowed angrily for a moment before resuming his menacing composure, clearly he was used to men cowering in fear before him.

“Does a moth truly know fear while he draws helplessly towards the flame?” Tarimus replied coolly.

“Where is she?” Aaron demanded.

Tarimus slowly drew his sword echoing a metallic ring throughout. Aaron was struck with the abruptness of how close he stood before Tarimus...unarmed.
 

“She’s no longer your concern,” Tarimus smiled. “I’ve watched you heir of Shandara. You spurned her. Do you treat all your women with so little respect? What do you care?” He taunted.

“Leave her out of this. Where is she?” Aaron said through clenched teeth. “Tell me or…”

“Or what,” Tarimus spat. “You’ll kill me. I’m already dead and well beyond the reach of the likes of you and your kin.”

The swing of the sword whirled through the air striking the ground where Aaron stood a moment before. Aaron focused inward and called to the Falcons. He called up an image in his mind building it to the tiniest detail, but the image shattered.

“This is no dream boy," Tarimus spat before delivering a kick that sent Aaron sailing through the air into a stone column.

His thoughts scattered and he scrambled to get out of the way, but Tarimus was too quick and delivered another crushing blow sending him sprawling. A bluish orb of light rushed itself from afar to settle down between the two combatants giving Tarimus pause and drew closest to Aaron hovering before him.

A voice he had never heard before called from the orb. “Rise heir of Shandara.”

Aaron’s eyes widened as the orb flashed and the Falcons clanged into his lap. He grabbed each hilt and brought them up just as Tarimus’s sword thundered down. Deflecting the blow to the side, Aaron kicked out with his other leg sending Tarimus back in surprise.

“NOOOOOO!” Tarimus howled in rage. “You are forbidden to interfere,” he screamed out to the void.

When Tarimus turned back, Aaron stood ready to face him. He smirked and then began to wield the Falcons. The blades flashed into motion sending out their mysterious music filling the chamber. Tarimus for the first time looked fearful, then he bellowed his battle cry and unleashed a mighty wave of attacks. Wild cracks of steel echoed throughout the church. The power of the bladesong gathered to Aaron and with it an awareness of something much older that lives within the depths of the soul. Visions danced through his mind of the lives of people he’d never seen before. He could hear whispers upon the fringes of his hearing. The awareness became more acute and wild in the harsh majesty that binds nature together. The fierceness and golden beauty of the balance of life came to alignment within him and he drew upon that balance for strength to do what had to be done.

Tarimus could sense the change in him and howled in denial. “
Ferasdiam,
” he spat and charged yet again. Aaron stood perfectly still and at the last possible moment he dove to the side taking a grand swipe with his swords, but his blades passed through Tarimus without making any contact. Aaron reeled in confusion while Tarimus merely laughed.

“I’m not that easy to kill.” Tarimus cocked his head to the side, “Can I be killed? I wonder.” Dead black eyes regarded him coolly, “You fight me as if I am alive. I assure you I’m not. Death has no sway on me boy.”

“What about life. Does that sway you at all?” Aaron said warily.

“Life.” Tarimus said. “These are the halls of what could be your life. Shall I show you what comes next?”

Aaron lashed out with a series of vicious attacks driving Tarimus back. He had enough of these games and Tarimus was right in front of him. Aaron dove for Tarimus like a falcon on the hunt. He held nothing back and fought with everything he had. The medallion grew warm against his chest and the Falcons began to glow in his hands. Sparks emanated from the clashing blades. With a great sweep of his blades a jagged cut along the side of Tarimus’s face appeared. No blood spewed forth, but it was a wound nonetheless, which left Tarimus holding the side of his face in disbelief. Tarimus turned and with a sweeping gesture heaved the great chalice of fire off its pedestal hurling toward Aaron.

Aaron dove out of the way and scrambled to his feet putting the Falcons in motion. The bladesong echoed throughout the church. The Falcons were engulfed by a shimmering blue glow. Tarimus made another sweeping gesture sending a great oak bench hurling. With blades glowing blue he sliced through the oak bench scattering it to either side of him.

“Life is what matters to you isn’t it boy.” Said Tarimus circling with the appearance of a lazy stride, but Aaron knew better. “What would you do if you knew those that you loved were in danger?” He taunted. “And the all consuming madness that will ensue when you learn that no matter what happens you will never get there in time to stop it.”

Aaron could feel his heart pounding in his chest. Tarimus’s words had the ring of truth to them. “Tell me,” he said trying to keep his voice steady. What had he missed he kept thinking. He had been sure that facing Tarimus in this way would force a resolution. The fires in the abandoned church died out in unison plunging them in darkness save for the moonlit glow through the broken windows.

 
“Fate has finally caught up with you heir of Shandara.” Tarimus’s voice seemed to echo from every direction. A cold wind blew, “Tonight they shall weep in their own blood.” Tarimus’s voice came ahead of him in almost hushed tones. “I unleash
you
heir of Shandara. See what has been hidden from you.”

 
A blinding light burst forth from Tarimus’s out-stretched hand. The light coalesced into an image of Aaron’s home. Fire raged throughout the house. Nine men dressed in black stood before the house and screams could be heard coming from inside the burning home. His father burst forth charging through a window. The center most man in black lunged forward drawing his sword.

“Is this real

Aaron cried. “What have you done?”

“Is this real!” He demanded.

 
Aaron screamed as the light shimmered then winked out and he was once again kneeling before the fire, which was now but a few burning embers. Without a backwards glance he dashed off towards his car, but he couldn’t shrug off the arresting fear that he was already to late.

C
HAPTER
10

ANOTHER WORLD

“BEWARE OF THE man who has nothing left to lose. You might push to hard and he will be unable to fulfill his destiny,” he warned.

“On the contrary Tye, it is a man who has nothing left to lose that can accomplish great things.” Mactar advised the young prince.

“Think about it," Mactar continued, “The heir of Shandara is within our grasp. Think of the glory that would bring if it was you who brought him before your father. This lone act will put you first among your brothers. Think of it Tye, the last remnant of the house Alenzar’seth, holders of the keys to Shandara.” He noted the slight tension building within his young companion with satisfaction. Young power hungry fools were the easiest to bend to your will with the right motivation and this fool had means to fulfill this end. Tye was actually quite capable, but he has been forever shadowed by the deeds of his older brothers.
 

“Absolute secrecy is paramount, Mactar,” Tye insisted. “Only my own men will be used for this. The Elite will not be involved.”

“Of course my lord,” Mactar smiled. The Elite cannot know about the heir of Shandara, not for the moment anyway. The utter bitterness he felt upon learning that Reymius escaped with that wretched daughter of his tried even his patience. The house of Alenzar’seth once again had cheated annihilation. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but did help to explain why the rift between worlds continued to hold. The heir of Shandara holds the keys to great power and he will be brought to heel and deliver what was due. How would the Elite Grand Master receive the heir of Shandara he wondered? The complexities of the Elite Council were for another time, Mactar mused and returned to the task at hand.

“When can we be underway?” Tye pressed.

“Soon, my lord soon.” Mactar answered. “Make ready and I will send for you shortly.”

Tye took his leave and Mactar strode to a darkened room whose sole occupant was a large mirror. The engraving that encompassed the mirror held a powerful spell to allow someone to communicate through the ethereal planes between realities. Dangerous and unpredictable this mirror turned out to be as he had learned through another’s folly which had been to his benefit. Mactar lit the candles on each side and called forth to Tarimus.

“I am here, Master," Tarimus appeared instantly. Although Tarimus had answered to him in this manner for years this time there was a challenging glint to his depthless black eyes. The unspoken challenge had been there since the beginning, but a new emotion roiled beneath those cold black eyes. Hope. Tarimus had never succumbed to his prison, but he had been leashed so to speak. His stance betrayed a readiness for action and a hunger for Mactar’s destruction.

“The time has come. Tye will be going through.” Mactar said narrowing his gaze.

 
“Are you sure?” Tarimus taunted. “He is not like the others. Do not underestimate Reymius’s heir. He has grown strong. He is different...mindful.”

Again it was there albeit the last of that statement was added grudgingly. An unspoken challenge and hope, an uncharacteristically human emotion seemed foreign on Tarimus’s now demonic face. The pieces were falling into place, but this was something of which he knew nothing. What could have given Tarimus cause to hope?

“I trust you’ve done your part?” Mactar warned.

“Of course,” Tarimus answered stoned face.

“Then he will fall in line and perish when his usefulness is no longer apparent.” Mactar stated.