Bonded: Book One of the ShadowLight Saga, an Epic Fantasy Adventure (30 page)

Finally, she asked, “So
you don’t want to hurt Hallad?”

The woman’s answer came
swift.
Harming him would be like harming myself. I would rather die.

Emma knew she spoke the
truth. The woman’s—her sister’s—motives were easy for her to read, as open as
an animal’s—pure and straightforward, with no intention to deceive. Just as she
had felt when they had met at Prophetess Cove, however many moons before; her
sister would not harm her. Nor would she harm their brother.

Happiness warmed Emma
and she reached forward to embrace her sister. Her sister’s image winked and
her face blanched. Emma could tell she grappled to remain there, remembering
how sick she felt when Lothar brought her through the shadowwalk to Grimnear.

“Does it hurt to be
here?” asked Emma, concerned.

It is difficult
, admitted her sister.
The Shadow hunts in the
walk and it takes much effort to fend him off. Plus I must retain my strength
for a greater cause, and without Hallad, my power dwindles. We haven’t much
time
. Again, her image rippled.

“Where is our brother?”
asked Emma.

The woman’s face melted
at Emma’s shared reference, giving Emma an instant rapport with her newly found
sister.

He is with a group of
warriors who will protect him, but I must find a way to return you to him.

“Lord Lothar holds me
prisoner in a place called Grimnear, though I do not know where that is. It is
surrounded by a vast, burned forest.”

I will come for you
sister
, promised the woman.

Blackness inched in
around her sister’s white form. The warrior woman shifted, eyes flickering back
and forth, and Emma recalled her actions the night in the forest, at the edge
of the cove.

“What is it?” asked
Emma, panic rising in her tone.

But the woman blinked in
and out, not replying. Her whiteness turned gray, and then washed with streaks
of black.

“Is it the Shadow?”
Emma’s voice turned shrill as she watched. She grabbed onto her sister’s form,
but only caught air.

“Sister!” she screamed.

The blackness whirled,
eclipsing the young woman, until nothing remained.

A black web wrapped
around Erik. He had fallen asleep with the intention of finding Emma and
talking to her. The memory of their last moment together burned into him; he
could not believe she meant what she said. She couldn’t have. It was that
man
.
Lothar. He had poisoned her or threatened her. Erik could feel it deep within
his bones and he knew if he could speak with her again, without
that man
there, he could get to the truth.

Erik focused, trying to
visualize himself in Emma’s room, but he could not. The night before, he had
sensed a shift in her location. A powerful surge had ripped her from one spot, putting
her in another faraway place. At first, Erik tried to deny the impression,
rationalizing his emotions had gotten away with him and he was confused. But
the more he tried to view her, the clearer it became. She had been moved. And
now she was shielded from his sight.

So Erik pushed through
the dark web, seeking Emma. When he pressed into the mass, his fingers stuck in
the inky blackness. If he tried to think his way around the net, his mind met
with more darkness. He thought of her—her sun-kissed hair, the sweet scent of
linnea flowers, her gentle smile, her wide mist-gray eyes, her constant concern
for others—and she appeared, winking in and out through a spot in the mesh of
black.

Emma’s face spread with
urgency. A swirl of shadows blended with the whiteness of Swan. The mass of
black mixed with Emma. Terror spread in Emma’s eyes as she viewed Swan,
encompassed in shadows and she screamed again, but Erik could not understand
her words. The mesh morphed, covering up the scene. Erik jabbed through the
tangle, but the web transformed at his stabs, wrapping tightly around his
fists.

Swan.
He winced.
She hunts Emma.

Madness ignited in Erik,
wiring his limbs, coursing through his blood. At that moment, it did not matter
if Emma had forsaken him or promised herself to another. He would not allow her
to be in danger.

Swan’s voice pierced his
mind, echoing through him.

Do not come for her!

Stay away from her!
screamed Erik.

Swan’s song rang through
him again, tainted with urgency, causing her voice to surge.

If you come for her
in the shadowwalk, you will die!

Then her voice expired,
smothered by the void.

Had the woman threatened
to kill him? Or did she warn him of an impending fate? Recalling Emma
horror-struck at the sight of Swan, Erik concluded the warrior woman intended
to cause Emma harm.

Loki’s voice replaced
Swan’s, booming within the abyss.

I can take you to
Emma.

How?
asked Erik.

You must leave your
companions. Only you alone can cross through the shadowwalk.

Erik remained silent as
he considered the option. His efforts to find Emma had failed. He feared her
danger eminent, her time short.

Come to me. Cross
through the orchard. Travel vestr until you reach a wide canyon. I will show
you how to cross through the shadowwalk in physical form. You will be with her,
where Lothar holds her in Castle Grimnear, within moments of my instruction, but
you must come alone.

Erik’s mind sped.

If I agree?

You and I will seal
our pact. We will be allies.

*****

Dawn broke over the
horizon as Erik opened his eyes. Dim light created silhouettes out of the
surrounding trees, a pink-purple hue washing the skyline. Rolf and Seretta sang
in the distance, Rolf’s tenor harmonizing with Seretta’s clear soprano. Andvarri
snored, wrapped in rabbit furs, his eyelids flinching in a dream filled sleep.

Edging forward, Erik
strained to hear his brother and the songvari, their voices blending in a
perfect complement to one another. Rolf sang words Erik could not understand,
and he wondered how his brother had learned them so quickly. As he crept
closer, he could see they worked their hands in unison over a stone, as if
dancing together, mirroring one another. The stone yielded at their fluid
gestures, molding into the shape of a tree—reaching branches, full with bloom,
gnarled roots, thick with age. Erik had never, in his entire life, seen his
little brother so proficient, so graceful, and so joyful.

When the two stopped
their song, Seretta said, “You have a strong touch, Rolf. You could advance to
songvari with practice.”

Color rose in Rolf’s
cheeks at her compliment. A grin spread his face, but within a breath, fear
replaced his smile.

“What do you think will
happen to my brother?”

Seretta reached for him,
placing her long fingers over his lanky ones.

“I have done what I can.
The Mother’s touch can only do so much with one who has been seduced by the
Shadow.”

Rolf stared down at his
stone creation, nodding his head.

“The best you can do for
him is to stay close. Keep him near. Support him and let him know you love him.
The love of a brother can rival even the Shadow.”

Erik drew back at their
conversation. His heart thudded at Rolf’s devotion to him. He drew in a breath
and held it, telling himself he was doing the right thing—for Emma’s sake, he
had to.

Erik snuck back to their
campsite and picked up his belongings. He stuffed what he needed in his
saddlebag, leaving the rest for Rolf. He tiptoed to his mare. The elder brother
brushed Beyla as she nickered at him, flicking her eyes backward at his hasty
movements, switching her ears back and forward again. With a pat of her chest
he grabbed his saddle, threw it over her back and cinched the strap tight, then
attached his bag behind the cantle. Erik mounted and nudged the horse forward
with a click of his tongue and tap of his heels.

*****

Beyla's hooves thundered
against the ground as Erik raced. Sweat beaded on his brow and upper lip. He
swiped at the wetness with the back of his forearm and hammered on, urging his
mount faster and faster. Images flashed: Emma, her face struck with terror, the
black-white swirl of Swan facing her, Rolf’s defeated posture, his head hanging
as he spoke of his brother, Lothar’s vulpine smile as he stood by Emma, holding
her hand. The visions rushed at him with crushing force, pounding into his mind
as the horse’s hooves beat the ground.

Neighing, Beyla stopped
short and pranced in place. She snorted and bucked her head up and down,
pulling at the reins. Before them spread a vast canyon as deep as it was wide. Several
paces ahead, the land broke into a cliff, spiraling thousands of paces straight
down. The craggy edges of rock poked from the gap’s sides. The meadow thinned
from grass to rubble, a brief warning of the drop ahead.

Erik slid off Beyla,
pacing toward the cliff’s edge. Stones tumbled downward as he neared the rim,
taking a silent dive into the chasm below. Peeking over the side, he could make
out the outline of a river cutting through rock at the bottom of the gap, so
far below the water appeared no larger than a thin blue line.

As Erik backed away from
the cliff, he searched for Loki. The rumble of hooves caught his ear and he
turned. A white mare carrying two forms rushed down the path behind him. Rolf’s
scarlet mantle waved in the air and Seretta’s amber hair flew. The songvari
clenched her arms around his little brother’s waist, struggling to stay
upright, bobbing around on the mare’s back as if she had never ridden in her
entire life. Rolf’s skin flushed, redness blazing his cheeks. They skidded to a
stop in front of Erik and Rolf launched off the horse’s back. He thundered to
Erik, planting himself in front of his brother.

“You were going to leave
me?” he accused. Rolf’s cheeks stretched in an unbelieving grimace.

“I—” Erik started, but
Rolf interrupted.

“You were going to leave
me in Steadsby. And now you are going to leave me here, in a strange land,
where I do not know where to go or what to do. I have followed you from the
moment I could walk. I have loved you from the moment I was born. And all you
ever want to do is leave me.” Rolf’s eyes flashed with rage, the rims reddening
along with his skin.

Erik stared at his
little brother unable to form words. His head buzzed.

“And you have nothing to
say to me,” prodded Rolf.

Seretta found Rolf’s arm
in an attempt to sooth him, but he jerked away, closing the distance between
Erik and himself.

Loki’s voice invaded
Erik’s head.

You must leave him if
you want to be with Emma.

Erik shook his head back
and forth, as if to dislodge the Shadow from his mind.

Rolf thought the gesture
supplied an answer to his question and he snorted.

“Perfect. Just perfect.”
Rolf threw his hands up, huffing air.

Struggling to keep the
conversations straight, Erik tried to answer. “Brother, you don’t understand,
I—”

“I understand my entire
life I have done everything to get your attention. Everything! I follow you
around like a puppy and you barely even notice me. But when you do realize I'm
around, you never approve of me. I’m some appendage you can cut away and leave
behind.”

“Nei, brother,” started
Erik, but Loki assaulted again.

If you do not leave
him and follow me, Emma will be lost to you forever.

Erik reached up to grab
his hair, tugging hard, scrunching his eyelids closed.

“Nei!” he screamed.

His breath came hard and
fast. He opened his eyes to view his little brother.

Rolf stammered, backing
away.

“Nei.” Erik’s voice
boomed again. “You don’t understand. I have to get to Emma. She is in grave
danger. Lothar moved her to a place called Castle Grimnear.”

Seretta’s face paled at
the mention of Grimnear.

“If I don’t do this . .
. If I don’t leave—”

“You cannot leave me.” Rolf’s
tone shrunk, sounding ten seasons old. “I am your brother.” His shoulders
shook.

Now,
commanded Loki.
I will only give you one
chance.

“Please,” begged Rolf. The
red rims of his eyes welled.

The vulnerability of his
little brother wrecked Erik. Rolf’s loyalty over the years proved unmatched.

“I won’t leave you,” said
Erik.

Rolf lunged forward,
enveloping Erik in a hard embrace, thumping his back with the palm of his hand.
Erik stiffened at first, then loosened into Rolf’s grip—then hugged him back
fiercely.