Read Online Bonded: Book One of the ShadowLight Saga, an Epic Fantasy Adventure by Mande Matthews - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Mande Matthews
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stood to face his
friend, but was unable to answer. In his gut, he knew where his path must lead.
As his father had told him, she will guide you. He intended to honor his
father’s command but words of explanation refused to form on his lips.
Erik spat at the ground
in front of him.
"I curse you Hallad
Avarson! Your sister, your real sister, renounces you as do I!"
Erik yanked a knife from
his belt. Swan glided to Hallad’s side, but Hallad stayed her with his hand on
her forearm.
Erik waved the knife at
the two of them then turned the blade on himself, cutting deep into the flesh
of his palm. Blood rolled off his hand, dripping down to the dirt floor below.
"You’re not my blood
sworn anymore!"
His hand shook as he
made a fist, squeezing the crimson blood between his fingers. Tears broke free
and streamed down his face.
Erik turned from them,
storming through the doors, swinging them hard so they pounded against the
outer wall. Rolf, glaring at Hallad with disgust, followed his brother. Hallad
shook as he watched the two leave, listening as they mounted and road off down
the trail, their hoof beats pounding in time with the throbbing of his
shattered heart.
Chapter 12
Night pressed down upon
their camp. They had traveled for five moons, stopping briefly on the craggy
outskirts of Egil’s Heights to buy supplies and seagull eggs, gathered by the
villagers by scaling the steep cliffs. Gisla insisted on the eggs, poaching
them with herbs she collected on their travels, a pleasant change from Rolf’s
burnt rabbit. Hallad watched the industrious girl at her work as he sat by the
fire, sharpening his swan sword. She would make a man a fine wife someday—not
that he would ever have the freedom from his responsibilities to take a wife. Even
as a child, he always knew he’d be alone—until Swan arrived.
Hallad scraped at his
blade with a stone. The rhythm of metal against rock matched with the beat of
his heart as he reflected on all those souls he loved and had failed. Emma. Erik.
His father. His sworn duty to Swan incited unanswerable questions and
unfathomable repercussions.
Without a sound, Swan
appeared in front of him. Hallad sensed her before seeing her. He avoided her
gaze and concentrated on the sword. Since the rift with Erik, Swan had been
attentive—always by his side, smiling, brushing against his arm as if to say
she understood. She cannot know my distress, but as soon as the
statement formed, he knew the sentiment to be wrong. He knew because he could
feel how she felt, her emotions flooding him like a tidal wave ready to take
him under. Even now, concern swelled from her and into him, suffocating him.
When he didn’t
acknowledge her, she sat next to him, so close the sleeve of her tunic pressed
against his side. He had many questions for her: how she grew up, where she had
been, what their mother was like, why she and their mother had left him, who
wanted her, and why?
The song from the Great
Wood tinkled inside his head.
The sky is dark and the hills are white
As the storm-king speeds from the nordr tonight.
And this is the song the storm-king sings,
As over the world his cloak he flings.
"Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep;"
He rustles his wings and gruffly sings:
"Sleep, little one, sleep."
Hallad turned to look at his twin, her eyes closed in
concentration.
"Is that you singing?"
he asked.
Swan started, turning to
Hallad in surprise. Her brows crumpled in confusion. Then she nodded
confirmation.
"Why
don’t you speak?" Hallad pressed on. Swan shook her head back at him, her
features stiff with hurt.
"You
spoke. In Steadsby, you spoke in my head."
She
nodded, unsure.
"And
since then, nothing. I know you know how I feel, yet you let me blunder in
ignorance, not speaking. Not letting me know what it is I fight for." She
can speak to me. She only chooses not to.
Even as
the thought entered his mind, he knew more hid behind the simple fact. He
waited, but no words came.
She
friend, but was unable to answer. In his gut, he knew where his path must lead.
As his father had told him, she will guide you. He intended to honor his
father’s command but words of explanation refused to form on his lips.
Erik spat at the ground
in front of him.
"I curse you Hallad
Avarson! Your sister, your real sister, renounces you as do I!"
Erik yanked a knife from
his belt. Swan glided to Hallad’s side, but Hallad stayed her with his hand on
her forearm.
Erik waved the knife at
the two of them then turned the blade on himself, cutting deep into the flesh
of his palm. Blood rolled off his hand, dripping down to the dirt floor below.
"You’re not my blood
sworn anymore!"
His hand shook as he
made a fist, squeezing the crimson blood between his fingers. Tears broke free
and streamed down his face.
Erik turned from them,
storming through the doors, swinging them hard so they pounded against the
outer wall. Rolf, glaring at Hallad with disgust, followed his brother. Hallad
shook as he watched the two leave, listening as they mounted and road off down
the trail, their hoof beats pounding in time with the throbbing of his
shattered heart.
Chapter 12
Night pressed down upon
their camp. They had traveled for five moons, stopping briefly on the craggy
outskirts of Egil’s Heights to buy supplies and seagull eggs, gathered by the
villagers by scaling the steep cliffs. Gisla insisted on the eggs, poaching
them with herbs she collected on their travels, a pleasant change from Rolf’s
burnt rabbit. Hallad watched the industrious girl at her work as he sat by the
fire, sharpening his swan sword. She would make a man a fine wife someday—not
that he would ever have the freedom from his responsibilities to take a wife. Even
as a child, he always knew he’d be alone—until Swan arrived.
Hallad scraped at his
blade with a stone. The rhythm of metal against rock matched with the beat of
his heart as he reflected on all those souls he loved and had failed. Emma. Erik.
His father. His sworn duty to Swan incited unanswerable questions and
unfathomable repercussions.
Without a sound, Swan
appeared in front of him. Hallad sensed her before seeing her. He avoided her
gaze and concentrated on the sword. Since the rift with Erik, Swan had been
attentive—always by his side, smiling, brushing against his arm as if to say
she understood. She cannot know my distress, but as soon as the
statement formed, he knew the sentiment to be wrong. He knew because he could
feel how she felt, her emotions flooding him like a tidal wave ready to take
him under. Even now, concern swelled from her and into him, suffocating him.
When he didn’t
acknowledge her, she sat next to him, so close the sleeve of her tunic pressed
against his side. He had many questions for her: how she grew up, where she had
been, what their mother was like, why she and their mother had left him, who
wanted her, and why?
The song from the Great
Wood tinkled inside his head.
The sky is dark and the hills are white
As the storm-king speeds from the nordr tonight.
And this is the song the storm-king sings,
As over the world his cloak he flings.
"Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep;"
He rustles his wings and gruffly sings:
"Sleep, little one, sleep."
Hallad turned to look at his twin, her eyes closed in
concentration.
"Is that you singing?"
he asked.
Swan started, turning to
Hallad in surprise. Her brows crumpled in confusion. Then she nodded
confirmation.
"Why
don’t you speak?" Hallad pressed on. Swan shook her head back at him, her
features stiff with hurt.
"You
spoke. In Steadsby, you spoke in my head."
She
nodded, unsure.
"And
since then, nothing. I know you know how I feel, yet you let me blunder in
ignorance, not speaking. Not letting me know what it is I fight for." She
can speak to me. She only chooses not to.
Even as
the thought entered his mind, he knew more hid behind the simple fact. He
waited, but no words came.
She
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