Playing With Fire (Power of Four Book 2) (21 page)

Aaron felt a sharp pain sear his chest. “I’m so sorry, Ella.”

Ella didn’t say anything but gave a small nod.

Neriah and Skyler came to a stop in front of a cave nestled at the base of a large hill. The mouth of the cave was almost closed by thick vegetation.

Neriah and Skyler cut away at it with their swords until there was enough room to squeeze into the cave. It was dark inside, even with the sunlight trying to flood in through the entrance. Neriah ran his hand over the walls until he found a small torch. He dug out a lighter from his bag and lit it.

Now that they had some light, Neriah made his way deeper into the cave. Aaron and the rest of them followed. The further they went, the more Aaron’s heart dropped. His mouth was incredibly dry and he was feeling light-headed. He wasn’t sure if that was the effect of the Blade or his nerves getting the best of him.

Their steps landed on stone, echoing in the small cave. Aaron tasted the stale, damp air when he took in a deep breath. Neriah stopped them suddenly.

“Wait here,” he commanded.

Aaron watched as Neriah walked over to the wall and held the torch up high, looking for something. He found it quickly – another torch. Neriah lit it, bringing a little more light into the cave. Aaron watched as Neriah made his way around the cave, lighting several torches. A warm glow filled the chamber. Only when Neriah stepped away from lighting the last torch did Aaron notice what lay before them.

Wedged in the stone ground, in the middle of a tremendous crack, stood a sword. Aaron had seen plenty of swords during his time in Salvador. The artillery hut had an entire wall dedicated to them. Even Kyran had a narrow, white-hilted sword in the weapons cabinet in his old cottage. But this sword wasn’t like anything Aaron had seen. Even with a part of it buried, what he could see was almost as long as Aaron’s arm. Symbols were engraved across the entire length of the gleaming silver. The light was too dim in the cave to make out exactly what they were. On the black hilt, set in tiny white stones, was Aric’s mark. It shone in the limited light, like the moon on dark nights. The Blade radiated power, an unseen force pulsating from the ground. Aaron could feel it, the pull of energy the Blade was demanding from the Earth. It made him dizzy to feel so much power around him.

Neriah came to rest next to Aaron. “Just walk over and pull the Blade out,” he instructed quietly.

Aaron’s gaze dropped to the end of the sword that was buried in the ground.

“Pull the sword out from the stone?” he asked.

“Yes,” Neriah replied.

Aaron smiled. “Like King Arthur?”

Neriah turned to give him a long look. “Who’s King Arthur?”

“Never mind.” Aaron shook his head. “But if Sam and Rose were here, they’d appreciate the humour.”

He stepped towards the Blade but paused to turn to his mum and dad. His dad looked worn thin with worry, but he managed a small nod and a shadow of a smile. His mum had pressed her lips into a line, her eyes gleaming in the limited light as she stared back at him. The orange flicker from the torches threw half of her face into shadow, but Aaron still saw the fear in her expression. He didn’t know what to do to dispel that fear. They knew, as did he, that from this day onwards, Aaron was going to be a major player in this war. Their plan to stay by his side, acting like shields, was their way of dealing with it, but that didn’t make watching him claim the Blade of Adams any easier. Aaron gave his mum a smile, trying to assure her that everything would be okay. He turned and began walking towards the sword.

The closer he came to the Blade of Adams, the more he felt his power seep out of him. By the time he reached the Blade, a fine sheen of sweat had covered him, leaving him feeling shaky and ill. But even so, when he stood before the sword, he found himself examining it closely. It was magnificent in every sense of the word. Despite being centuries old and left in this cave for what Aaron assumed was at least fourteen years, if not more, the sword looked like it had just been carved out of liquid silver. The engravings were symbols that didn’t make much sense to Aaron but they were mesmerising to look at.

His vision blurred suddenly and his knees threatened to buckle under him. Aaron had to fight to keep himself upright. He blinked to clear his eyes. His heart was beating against his ribcage with force, his breathing felt tighter. Aaron looked up to see Neriah standing with his mum and dad, waiting. Skyler and Ella stood to the side, watching him.

Neriah nodded at Aaron. “Push past it,” he instructed. “You’re standing close to the Blade, that’s why it’s affecting you. The moment you touch the sword, all the power of the Blade will connect with your legacy.”

Aaron swallowed and nodded. He extended his hand, trying to keep it steady. He almost touched the hilt before he stopped. He looked to his dad.

“Will it hurt?” he asked and he hated the way his voice shook at the question.

Chris smiled, his eyes gleaming. “No,” he replied with a shake of his head. “It will feel like a part of you that’s always been missing has finally clicked into place.”

The tight coil in Aaron’s chest loosened a little and Aaron nodded. He pushed out a breath and fixed his eyes on the Blade. He reached for it again and out of nowhere, Kyran’s voice boomed in his head.

The minute you touch that sword, your life will never be the same again.

Aaron paused. His life had already changed irreversibly. What else was there left to fear? The Blade of Adams was his by birthright. At some point in his life, he was meant to stand here and pull out this sword. He was destined to wield one of the four most powerful weapons in this realm.

Aaron pushed away Kyran’s warning, locked away the bubbling fear, and took a hold of the hilt.

The second Aaron’s hand closed around the grip of the sword, a tremendous wave of agony tore through him. It felt like fire had entered his veins and was spreading throughout his body, intent on burning him from within. With a cry, Aaron let go of the sword and stumbled back, gripping his hand.

“AARON!”

He could hear his mum and dad’s yells, and the sound of pounding feet told him they were running towards him, but Aaron couldn’t call back. Screams were ripping out of him. Something was tearing his insides apart. White-hot agony swept through him, clouding his vision. The pain brought Aaron to his knees before he fell, face forward onto the stone ground, sending him reeling into unconsciousness before his parents or Neriah could reach him.

19

Being Ready

The rays of daylight peeked in through the net curtains, warming Aaron’s face, urging him to wake up. Aaron wanted to roll over and hide his face under the pillow and go on sleeping. He was so tired, his bones were aching. Did he have the flu? Why was he so sore? Was it the day of the full moon already? Or did Skyler give him a good thrashing again, under the pretence of training? Wait, Kyran was his teacher now. He had been training with him for months. No. Kyran wasn’t his teacher. Kyran was the Scorcher. He was the enemy. He came to Salvador to steal Neriah’s key so he could unlock Hadrian’s power and destroy this realm and take the human one down with it. But Kyran had also come to warn Aaron, to tell him not to fight the war. He told him not to touch the sword.

The sword.

One of Aric’s Blades.

The Blade of Adams.

The memory of the agonising pain that flooded him the moment he touched the Blade came back to Aaron and he snapped awake. He was breathing fast, his heart racing. His vision was still cloudy with stubborn sleep, but when he blinked a few times he made out the strangely familiar ceiling.

He was lying in a comfortable bed, in a quiet, peaceful room but Aaron’s heart was pounding like he had woken up in a dank dungeon. Every part of Aaron’s body hurt. A dull ache pounded in his head, in time with his heartbeat. He felt jittery and ill, weakened and sore.

Slowly, Aaron lifted his right arm, blinking at his hand. It looked perfectly fine – no burn, not even the faintest mark – yet Aaron could swear he’d felt his skin sear with heat when he held on to the sword. Had he been burned? Or was it just his imagination? Or had he been hurt and now healed?

“What happened?” Aaron asked himself out loud, his voice sounding scratchy to his own ears.

“Aaron?” a soft voice called, and Aaron turned his head to see a beautiful, fair-haired Empath at the door. “You’re awake already? I thought you would sleep well into the night.”

“Armana?” Aaron croaked in surprise. He looked around the room, finally figuring out where he was and why it looked so familiar. “How did I get to Salvador?”

Armana smiled and made her way over to him. “You were brought here a few hours ago,” she said. She felt the chair with her hands before sitting at his bedside. “Sensing how drained you were, I was certain you would be asleep for at least half the day.”

“The Blade,” Aaron breathed. “That’s what drained me?” He looked at Armana to see her gentle smile fade a little. “What happened?” he asked. “Why did the sword drain me?”

Armana shook her head. “Don’t you worry about that,” she said. She held out her hands. “Here, let me check–”

“Armana,” Aaron called. “Tell me what happened.” He swallowed past his dry throat. “Please.”

Armana pulled back her hands, letting them drop in her lap. Her unseeing gaze went past Aaron.

“Don’t get upset,” she said quietly. “This happens sometimes. It doesn’t mean anything’s wrong.”

“What?” Aaron asked. He pulled himself to sit up and the room spun. He closed his eyes and forced out a breath. “What...what do you mean?” he asked in a shaky voice. “What happens? What’s wrong?”

“You need to rest,” Armana said, her voice laced with concern. “Are you sitting up? You need to lie back down.”

“No.” Aaron pushed the covers back and tried to get out of bed, but he couldn’t manage it. “Not until you tell me what’s happening?” His body protested to the minimal movement and Aaron had to fight not to collapse onto his back.

“Aaron,” Armana started, leaning forward, her hands outstretched for him. “You’re in pain. I can feel it in your voice.” Her pale blue eyes were glistening. “Lie back, please.”

“I will,” Aaron said. “But first, tell me the truth. What happened? Why did the Blade drain me?”

“Because you’re not ready.”

The voice came from the other side of the room. Aaron turned to see Neriah, looking weary and tired. He walked into the room and Armana quickly got to her feet.

“I’ll come and check on you later,” she said to Aaron. “Please, lie down and let your body heal.”

She left, passing Neriah, who came to stand at the foot of Aaron’s bed. Aaron didn’t do as Armana asked. He stubbornly stayed sitting, fighting with the last morsel of strength he had to stay upright.

“What do you mean, I’m not ready?” he asked.

Neriah walked to the seat Armana had vacated and sat down. He rubbed a hand over his face before letting out a sigh. “It’s not very common,” he started, “but it’s also not unheard of for the Blade to reject its holder.”

Aaron locked his arms at his sides to keep himself sitting. “That’s what that was? Rejection?” he asked. He closed his eyes and sighed. “No wonder it was so painful.”

Neriah didn’t smile.

“So what now?” Aaron asked, looking at Neriah. “How do I get the sword to accept me? What do I have to do to be deemed
ready
?”

Neriah didn’t speak right away. “Aaron,” he said in a quiet voice. “If a legacy holder isn’t ready, it’s because their legacy isn’t awake yet. That’s why the Blade rejects them, because it can’t connect to the legacy, so it drains them like it would any other mage who tries to wield it. Legacies are supposed to awaken with the core, but sometimes they don’t until the core matures.” He held Aaron’s eyes. “Your core matures when you come of age.”

The impact of his words hit Aaron like a physical kick to the gut. “When I’m of age?” he asked. “You mean, I can’t use the Blade until I’m eighteen?”

“Nineteen,” Neriah corrected quietly.

Aaron stared at him. “Will there be a war left to fight in five years?”

Neriah smiled, but it was a sad, heartbroken one. “God, I hope not,” he breathed. He sat back in the chair with his shoulders dropped. “I’ve been fighting this war for far too long. But now that Hadrian’s powers are unlocked, the battle will truly start.” He held Aaron’s eyes. “And I don’t expect it to last very long.”

Aaron swung his legs over the side of the bed, but his body refused to be pushed to the point of standing.

“You’re giving up?” he asked, fear and anger pumping inside him.

Neriah laughed, a deep rumbling sound that filled the room. He tilted his head to the side and gave Aaron a long look. “I’d sooner face death than give up, Aaron.”

“So why are you saying we’re gonna lose?” Aaron asked.

“I didn’t say that,” Neriah objected.

“It’s what you’re implying,” Aaron said. His body ached but Aaron shoved that pain aside. He was too angry to care about it. “There must be a way to awaken my legacy now so I can use the Blade,” he said.

“There may be,” Neriah replied. “But now isn’t the time to discuss that. For now, I think it’s best for you to return to Marwa with your parents.”

Aaron couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Wait a minute,” he said, his chest heaving with the effort it took to breathe. “You’re the one who came to my house,” he said. “
You
came to get
me
. I fought with my parents, finally got them to agree to let me take part, and now you’re telling me to go back home?”

“Without the Blade of Aric, there isn’t much you can bring to the fight,” Neriah said. “I can’t send you into the battlefield with a few months of Hunter training. You won’t last an hour.”

“I’m still an Elemental,” Aaron argued. “You can train me to fight.”

“There’s no time,” Neriah said with a heavy heart. “Without the Blade–”

“To hell with the Blade!” Aaron snapped and his whole body shook with pain and anger. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m not a toy, Neriah! You can’t just use me when you see fit and then throw me in a corner when–”

A spasm of pain seized him, cutting him off. Aaron’s hand shot to his chest and he doubled over, gasping for breath. It felt like a hand had closed around his heart and twisted it.

Neriah was at his side, strong and firm hands gently guided him to lie back. “You should rest,” Neriah said. “It’s the only way you’ll heal.”

Aaron grabbed hold of his hand before he could pull away. “Blade or not,” Aaron panted. “I’m still fighting.”

Neriah smiled and gently pulled his hand out of Aaron’s. “Sleep,” he said. “Your family and friends are waiting to see you, but the Empaths won’t let them in until you’re better.”

“You came in,” Aaron wheezed.

Neriah smiled. “Not many can refuse me.” He patted Aaron on the head and walked away.

Before Neriah could even step outside, exhaustion pulled Aaron into a peaceful slumber.

***

“Please, Armana.”

“No, Aaron, absolutely not.”

“I’ll go mad if I have to stay here any longer.”

“You’ve been here a day.”

“I’m fine now,” Aaron insisted. “I’m sitting up in bed and everything.”

Armana’s pale blue eyes widened. “You’re doing what? Lie back down, right now!”

Aaron sighed. “Honestly, I feel much better. My headache is almost all gone and I don’t feel as drained.”

“I can tell from your voice that you’re still fatigued,” Armana said.

“I need to get out of here,” Aaron argued. “You won’t even let my friends in to sit with me.”

Armana perched on the edge of the bed, staring past Aaron’s head. “I let Sam and Rose sit with you for half an hour yesterday. That’s more than what the other Empaths would allow.” She smiled kindly. “Besides, tomorrow is the day of the full moon. I want you to stay here until it passes.”

Aaron let out a frustrated sigh. “I don’t want to stay here, Armana,” he said honestly. “I need a distraction, something – anything – that will take my mind off the Blade.”

Armana reached out, searching for Aaron’s hand. She held it tightly. “I know you’re upset about the rejection, but you just have to be patient.”

“You sound like my dad,” Aaron said. “He keeps telling me the same thing.”

“You should listen to us, then,” Armana said with a smile.

“There’s no time to be patient,” he said. “I have the legacy but if it doesn’t awaken until I’m nineteen, then there’s nothing I can do to help in this war. It’s just down to Neriah and Skyler.”

Armana’s expression changed at the mention of the Air Elemental but she didn’t say anything. She took a moment before tightening her grip on Aaron’s hand, squeezing it gently. “I know you want to help, Aaron, but you’re just learning how to control your powers. It’s not safe for you to fight in this war.”

“I know,” Aaron said. “Which is why having a Blade of Aric in my hand would have greatly tilted the odds in my favour.” He let out a pent up breath. “There must be something I can do. There has to be some way, someone that can help me awaken my legacy. Neriah said now wasn’t the time to discuss it, but that means he knows something that can help me.”

Armana pulled back her hand.

“You shouldn’t force these matters,” she said in a quiet voice. “Sometimes it’s best to let things happen by themselves. Your legacy will awaken when it’s ready.”

“Yeah, when I’m nineteen,” Aaron grouched. “Not much point then.”

“Looking for shortcuts sometimes leads to more trouble,” Armana said.

Aaron frowned. “What do you mean?”

Armana took a moment to answer. “Decades ago, the Elementals of that time discovered a presence. It wasn’t demonic, but it didn’t come from the mages either. They called it the Influence.”

Aaron frowned. “The Influence?”

“It was a different force, very powerful,” Armana said. “The Elementals thought they could work with it, use the Influence to their benefit.” She closed her eyes and breathed out a sigh. “From the very beginning, mages were able to heal themselves from most injuries. It took time and a lot of
rest…
” She stressed the word, but Aaron stubbornly remained sitting. “…but generally we recovered on our own. As the demonic forces we fought got stronger, the mages often found themselves needing days to recover from injuries. When we came across Lycans and vampires, mages couldn’t fight the poison from their bites, and would die. The Elementals used the Influence to help, to give them the ability to heal faster, to heal better.” Armana paused for a moment, gathering herself. “The Influence gave them what they asked for: Empaths – mages born with the ability to heal others with a simple touch.” She held up a hand. “But what the mages didn’t know was that the Influence gave the gift of healing in return for something equally precious.” Her hand moved to her eyes.

Aaron’s breath caught in his chest. The Influence was the reason Empaths were born blind.

“They took our sight,” Armana continued. “They didn’t say that was the price. They simply gave one ability, and took away another.” She dropped her hands into her lap. “After that, the Elementals prohibited the use of the Influence. No matter what the reason, how desperate the need, no one is allowed to use the Influence.”

“Has anyone tried since?” Aaron asked.

Armana shook her head. “There’s no doubt in anyone’s mind that the Influence will give you what you desire, but it will cost you more than you are willing to give.” She stood up. “Take my advice, Aaron, let things be with your legacy. When it’s ready, it will awaken itself.”