Bonded: Book One of the ShadowLight Saga, an Epic Fantasy Adventure (32 page)

“Love takes time.” Olrun’s
grin spread wider as she squeezed the warrior next to her, wrapping her arms
around his mass and pulling him tight against her big body.

“Meet Jorn. The only man
who can tame me.”

“You call that tame?”
said Jorn, his deep eyes flashing with adoration, or lust—Hallad couldn’t
decide which.

“We are in your debt,
Jorn.” Hallad nodded toward Jorn in acknowledgement. “We could not have escaped
without you.”

“I have not agreed with
the king’s rule for many seasons. My deciding factor was when he held a band of
helpless women against their will.” Jorn gave Olrun a naughty sideways glance.

She jabbed him in the
ribs, nearly doubling the big man to his knees.

Swan’s weight returned
Hallad to his present task, her breath a whisper against him as he turned and
led their group through the gates of Glitner.

Citizens milled in the interior
streets along smooth stone pathways that wove throughout elaborate lattice
worked building fronts. The people of Glitner wore lavish robes over fine
clothing. The women’s dresses clung scantily to their figures, adorned with a
seemingly endless variety of the deftest embroidery Hallad had ever seen. Billowing
sleeves of three-quarter-length shirts, belted around the middle, graced the
men. These were paired with trousers that bloomed at the thighs and slippers on
their feet.

A woman caught sight of
their group first; her face stricken, she covered her mouth with her hand. Her
companion, curious about her action, followed the woman’s stare toward them and
let out a high-pitched scream.

Within a breath, the
entire street ignited with fearful shrieks, people scrambling to escape the
intruders. One word echoed throughout the commotion.

“Conspirators!”

The drengmaers reacted,
taking their stance back to back, surrounding Hallad and Swan. Chaos erupted
around them. Men stood abreast, pushing women protectively behind them. Others
ran, stumbling over one another, falling in tangled piles of thrashing arms,
legs and bodies.

Movement ceased as
Hallad’s group continued to stand their ground. The citizens raised their hands
as their voices boomed with song. But the tune stopped short as a woman with
white flowing robes, trailed by other women in identical dress, parted the
crowd. The throng started, bowing at the woman’s descent down the pathway,
dividing to either side then remained motionless.

The black raven marring
Ravenna’s jaw line tightened across her skin as she spotted Hallad, bearing
Swan in his arms. She ended her procession ten paces from the two, greeting
them.

“Sacred Guardian, you
have arrived.”

Ravenna curtsied deeply.
Her pony tail, extending from the topknot of her head, fell in front of her
robes as she dipped her head downward, the sunlight catching her tresses and
turning the black strands a deep shade of mahogany.

Hallad tipped his head
downward in response, unsure of how to react.

Whispers trickled
through the onlookers as they realized the First Walker of the Norns had just
pronounced this stranger the long awaited Guardian. The river of rumors
increased until the word "Guardian"
played upon all their
lips. Then more fear suffused the gathering as speculation about the woman the
Guardian carried emerged.

“The Svenna?” questioned
the crowd.

“Is the Svenna dead?”
asked others.

Confusion riddled the
citizens as Ravenna waved Hallad and his band forward. She strode by his side
as they proceeded up the pathway leading to an enormous structure, formed like
the gates—intertwining branches and stone, dressed in flowering blooms,
creating an elaborate palace from natural elements. Hallad’s breath caught in
his throat at the unreality of the architecture.

“Entering as you did was
foolish," Ravenna said through tight lips. "Our people will always
view the Guardian with a sword drawn. Even I cannot undo the damage you have
just caused.”

*****

“Our scouts have
verified your sister’s location.”

Ravenna locked her arms
across her chest, standing at the head of a marble table, while the other Norns
were seated along with Hallad, Ase, Gisla and the Head Drengmaers. A cot had
been supplied for Swan, along with a white robed team of women who examined
her.

“Emma?” asked Hallad.

“We received a tip that
a Scandian woman was being held by Lord Lothar, Guardian of Holyfell, within
his holdings. His servant reluctantly confirmed.”

Hallad bowed his head,
thinking.

“And what of Swan?”

He turned his head to
gaze at his pale sister, the robed women hovering their hands over her entire
body, faces tight with concern.

“Our walkers have
located her soul essence somewhere in the Broken Lands. Because the lands have
been violated, the Mother’s touch lies dormant in that realm. Our walkers also
possess the Mother’s touch, so it is too painful for them to endure a stay
without the Mother’s caress. We had originally thought the Shadow held her, but
now we believe the abductor to be a master shadowwalker.”

“We must move. Get me to
Swan and send an army to Holyfell for Emma.”

One of the Norns cleared
her throat while another flicked her eyes at Ravenna.

“We cannot—” started
Ravenna, but Hallad cut her off.

“You must!”

“You do not understand
our situation. For the part of Emma, Lothar is highly respected amongst our
people. We cannot openly move against him without causing political strife. None
of Lothar’s rank has ever been publically accused of being Shadow Sworn. We
will need time to deliberate our best move in this situation. For the
Svenna—the Broken Lands are many days travel and those with the touch are
adversely affected by these lands. We cannot reach her in time.” Ravenna
exchanged a knowing glance with one of the woman inspecting Swan. “Only one day
remains for your sister before she is lost.”

“So you haven't any solutions,”
stated Hallad.

“We require time.”

“Time that my sister
does not have.” The muscles clenched in Hallad’s jaw.

A liveried man entered,
casting anxious glances at Ravenna.

After Ravenna consulted
the man, she returned to the head of the table, announcing, “Emma has been
moved to Castle Grimnear, in the Broken Lands.”

Murmurs broke out
amongst the Norns as they cast unbelieving glances at one another.

“We had thought Grimnear
a myth," Ravenna explained. "We had not been able to get close enough
to confirm its existence, but new information points to the fact that your
sister, Emma, has been taken there by a master shadowwalker. We now believe
that walker to be Lothar.”

Discourse erupted from
the women, some protesting, and some praying to the Mother. Ravenna held her
hand in front of them, staving off comments. The raven bleeding into her skin
deepened.

“What is Grimnear?”
asked Hallad.

“Nothing short of an
abomination—the core of the Broken Lands. These lands exist, void of the
Mother, because the Conspirators abuse her, burning, raping, pillaging her
fruits until all has withered and died. We have heard rumors of an army being
gathered in the Broken Lands under the direction of a master shadowwalker
residing in Grimnear, but until now, we have not had confirmation. Apparently
their leader is Lothar.”

Hallad cut in, “Grimnear
is where Swan is.”

All eyes rounded to him.

“How do you know?” asked
Ravenna.

“She told me she would
make it right with Emma. I know she has gone to her.”

The Norns turned gazes
upon one another, considering Hallad’s statement. Hallad pulled the dyrr from
his pocket and placed it on the slick surface of the tabletop. The intake of
breath rounded within the room. Ravenna reached for the medallion and picked it
up, studying the smoothed gold.

“A dyrr. We thought
these a myth as well.” Ravenna stated as she scrutinized Hallad. “How did you
come by it?”

“It was given to me by
the ward that killed Thyre.” As Hallad said the words, numbness toward his
mother
spread. “I used it to cross to Glitner. Now we will use the dyrr to open a
doorway to Castle Grimnear before it is too late.”

“It could be a trap.” Ravenna
studied the air around Hallad’s head, her eyes never settling upon him.

“We have nei other
options.”

“Then you must take a
small party, slip into Grimnear unnoticed and break the Svenna free, Return
here with her and bond so your strengths can be joined and you will not run
this risk of separation again.”

Hallad nodded as he
lifted himself from his seat, reaching for the dyrr. The First of the Norns
pulled the dyrr back with a smooth movement, giving her final warning.

“A walker can only be
held in the walk if she allows herself to be consumed by her own fears. As
powerful as Lothar is, it is not his binds that keep her.”

Rolf bent at his middle,
holding his gut, while Seretta placed her long fingers upon his back, stroking it.

“Can’t you sing? Sooth
him?” asked Erik as he watched his little brother.

Rolf coughed, the sound
rumbling in his throat as if he would heave.

“My touch wanes here.” Seretta
glanced up at Erik then extended her gaze outward, toward the landscape.

“The land is pained. The
Mother lies buried under mounds of destruction. I, alone, cannot coax her
forth.”

Before them, spread a
mighty forest, reaching over the horizon. Only the trees bore no leaves, no
lushness, no sweet smell of pine. Burnt and blackened, bark clung in seared
lumps to their blanched and dead insides, rising from the ground like thousands
of ashen spikes against the sky. The air crackled with cold and a permanent
layer of frost remained upon the ground. The overcast sky spread above them,
darkening the land below even though daytime still lingered.

“Rolf,” said Erik,
extending a hand to his brother.

Rolf ignored the gesture
and stood upright, swallowing hard in his throat.

“I am fine, only winded.
We have traveled quickly.”

Seretta turned a
concerned gaze upon him.

“You feel the Mother’s
pain at this destruction. Your reaction is natural and always worst the first
time you feel such devastation. Your touch is great, Rolf Sigtrigson. It is a
miracle you ever survived in Scandia for all those years, so far away from her
heart.”

The dwarf fumbled in the
pouch tied around his waist. Within moments he approached with a tin cup in
hand.

“Drink this,” said
Andvarri. “It will settle your stomach and numb the pain in your heart.”

Rolf obliged, gulping
with little gags as he tried to hold down the concoction. He finished, wiping
dribbles of the liquid from his lips.

“Thank you, Andvarri.”

“I am glad I could
finally do something to help,” said the dwarf, a smile working the ends of his
lips.

“What is this place?” asked
Rolf as he adjusted his crimson cape underneath his outer coat. They had all
donned their fur-lined leathers when the temperatures dropped, with the
exception of Seretta who refused to wear the abominations, citing them as
unnatural cruelties.

“Blakkrwood,” replied
Seretta.

The songvari's
complexion took on a white pallor as they continued their travels in the Broken
Lands. Dark circles wore underneath her eyes and her skin stretched in
weariness, robbing her beauty.

“How could you have
survived here?” Even though Rolf paled, his face lit when he looked at the
songvari, as if in a constant state of stupor and adoration.

“It was not easy.” Seretta's
face remained flat. “If we are here too long we wither and die.” She glanced at
Erik, as if to warn him of the consequence of this journey. “I was only here
for a brief time. Once Lothar figured out I could not be contained, he walked
me into Grimnear against my will. I escaped and was traveling to Asheim,
seeking sanctuary, when you stumbled upon me.”

With horses in tow, they
moved into the barren ground of the Blakkrwood. The frost cracked under their
feet as they walked. With every step, Erik felt Emma nearer.

“When I met Lothar, I
thought he was a kind and gentle man.” Seretta spoke to Rolf. “Glitner’s policy
against those without the touch continued to harden. Their punishments were
cruel. In secret, Lothar would tell me of his dreams to save those who were
persecuted by the Palace. He said the Mother would not agree with our treatment
of them, even though they were deaf to her. And I agreed. In fact,” she smiled,
though no light touched her eyes, “my outspoken opinions on the subject got me
dispelled from Glitner.”

Erik tried to absorb her
story, but his mind wandered. The voice of the Shadow had not returned since
Erik’s reunion with Rolf at the edge of Ginnungagap, and with his mind finally his
own, it filled with thoughts of Emma.