Fractured Darkness: A YA Fantasy Adventure (The Age of Alandria Book 3) Read online

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  Restless in her sleep, Kaeleigh tossed and turned as she dreamed in flashes.

  A familiar scene of endless trees sped by her as she moved swiftly through the familiar forest, her friends by her side. She could feel eyes on her—as they fled. Darkness was on the outskirts, she could feel it. Why she didn’t sense it sooner in reality, she wasn’t sure because here it was obvious they were being pursued... tracked... hunted. Brought to a clearing, she and her group were surrounded by the darkness, by the Droch-Shúil. There wasn’t hope of escape this time, but then a light brighter than she had ever seen exploded. Ella had helped rescue them.

  Her focus slowed as it paused on Aidón as she watched his glamour shift and shimmer and morph around him, but never fully lifting or stopping on an image that seemed to fit him. He looked back at her with an expression that pleaded with her to try again. He was trapped within himself, wanting out of his fleshly prison, being captive to a body that was not his own. Over and over she watched her magic seek entrance into the shell of glamour that seemed impenetrable to her. She wasn’t strong enough yet. She could see what needed to happen, but wasn’t quite able to reach it. There was an intense magic around him.

  Suddenly, the background changed. She was with Aidón at the base of a tall snowy mountain, nearby a flowing stream. Down on a knee, he awaited her as she drew upon her magic, stirring it to epic proportions within herself. She placed her hands on him, one on his chest and the other opposite it on his back. Her magic swirled around them as a funnel of wind. Still it was not enough. Approaching from behind, Daegan along with Finn and Chel surrounded Kaeleigh and a kneeling Aidón. Each placed their hands on Kaeleigh, uniting their magic and energy with her own. Again, a bright light exploded.

  Kaeleigh jolted upright in her bed. Forgetting where she was, she smacked her head on the bunk above her. “OW!”

  “Oh no... That was not quite the wake-up call I was hoping for,” Chel grumbled from the top bunk. “You okay?”

  “Forgot where I was,” Kaeleigh mumbled as she rubbed her head. Suddenly remembering what her dream was about, she practically shouted, “I know how to release him!”

  “What? Who?”

  “Aidón. I’ve been trying to break down his glamour.”

  “Oh. Are you sure that’s a good idea? We don’t even know him.” Chel swung her head down to look Kaeleigh in the eyes, hanging upside down with all her hair falling in and around her face.

  “You look like a bat,” Kaeleigh laughed.

  “You’ll regret that comment when I get my shifting abilities down. I might just turn into a bat and terrorize you.” They both laughed then quickly sobered.

  “He was making light of it, while we traveled... maybe to test me, I’m not sure. In a dream I saw him, he’s trapped in a glamour kind of like I was, except he knows it whereas I didn’t. He wants out... And I know how to do it,” Kaeleigh said with determined excitement. “But I’m going to need all of you.” Kaeleigh sought her friend’s expression, expecting uneasiness, but once again Chel bounced back.

  “Then let’s get this deliverance underway,” Chel said snarkily, wiggling her fingers in Kaeleigh’s face. Kaeleigh shook her head, smiling, as they both jumped out of their beds and straightened their clothing.

  “I feel gross,” Chel complained, swiping her hands down her shirt.

  “Yeah, a nice hot shower sounds heavenly about now, doesn’t it?”

  “And some new clothes,” Chel grumbled as she took in Kaeleigh’s and then her own attire—she refused to call the rags they were given in the prison an outfit; it so wasn’t even close.

  “Let’s get cleaned up first and then go see if we can find everyone,” Kaeleigh said as she grabbed a couple towels out of the open chest in the center of the room and threw one at Chel.

  “You go first, I’ll guard the door from any unsuspecting warriors that might come wandering in.” Chel winked.

  Several minutes later, Kaeleigh stuck her head out the door wrapped in a towel. “Remember when I said ‘nice warm shower’?” Chel nodded. “Yeah, they may have plumbing, but they are missing the ‘nice warm’ part.”

  “Great,” Chel grumbled sarcastically. “Well, at least Ella brought us some new clothes to wear.” Chel threw a wad of cream-colored linens at Kaeleigh, who almost dropped her towel to catch the haphazardly thrown clothes which only made Chel laugh.

  A moment later, Kaeleigh walked out wearing clothes that looked like those worn by many of the other residents that she had caught glances of when they took their tour. They were simple, but comfortable. Everything was a cotton-linen blend. For whatever reason, it reminded Kaeleigh of some kind of refugee camp or a new world resistance where everyone looked the same and dressed the same. It kind of gave her the creeps and left her feeling void and colorless. But at least they were clean.

  A high-pitched wolf whistle broke her out of her thoughts. “Nice duds,” Chel said from the bottom bunk near the bathroom door.

  “I am but a mere vision of what you have to look forward to,” Kaeleigh said sweetly as she twirled around playfully showing off her linens.

  “Lovely.” Chel jumped up and took her turn in the bathroom.

  ✧✧✧

  Standing under a tree a short distance off to the side of a clearing that was the training area, Daegan watched a group of young people, both men and women, Faeries, Elves, and even some shifters, training and practicing together. It wasn’t a sight he was use to seeing. In Elnye, the Ferrishyn all trained together but it consisted mostly of males. Something warmed in his chest as he continued to watch. They were lacking in their training and what he thought they should be able to do as warriors—even half-human ones, but there was something very right about how they functioned together. He continued to evaluate their weaponry, how they held it and how they wielded it, until someone noticed him.

  “Would you like to join us?” a young wisp of a girl with curly white-blonde hair asked.

  Just as Daegan was about to warn her that her partner was still coming at her with his sword, she turned swiftly and blocked his strike with her own weapon that resembled a staff or a spear without the point. In fact, as he looked closer he saw it was more a stick than anything. She quickly disarmed her partner who was bigger than her and waited for him to acknowledge defeat, then she turned back to Daegan’s awaiting smirk of approval.

  “Well done,” he said and nodded at her.

  She beamed up at him. “So would you like to join us?” Daegan approached their group of about twenty or so, all of whom had stopped what they were doing to watch his interaction with the young girl. “You came with that new group that got here earlier, right?”

  “I did.” He gave the group a quick glance.

  The girl’s partner, a young man of about seventeen, jumped up from the ground and stepped closer to her protectively, which Daegan found slightly humorous, as did the girl apparently since she rolled her eyes at him. A very human response reminding him of something Kaeleigh might do, and for sure Chel.

  “You could join us if you would like. We could use another warrior,” a different boy chimed in a little too excitedly.

  “All right.” Daegan nodded to the young boy. He found it a little hard to tell for certain what race of beings these younger ones belonged to. He had guesses based on certain characteristic markers or they way they fought, but they were not marked like those of Alandria. And their appearances were slightly off from what he would expect them to be since they were, of course, Twined—being part human and part Elf or Faerie or shifter. “I am not sure how I will fit in with your group and your normal routine, but I will do my best.” Daegan surveyed the response of the group which as a whole seemed to be accepting. “Where shall I begin?”

  “You can partner with me at first.” The fiery young girl who had just taken her partner down a notch had a gleam of excitement in her eyes.

  Daegan nodded at her and stepped back, pulling his shorter sword from his h
ip holster. Everyone around them took similar positions nearby. He could see her original partner standing not far off in case he needed to save her from the “big bad warrior” guy. Although lacking some formal training, as a whole, they seemed to be able to hold their own. To his surprise, his young new sparring partner, who looked like a mortal version of a pixie, was steady with her staff and more competent with it than he had originally given her credit for. Apparently, she had been holding back with her original partner when Daegan watched from the sidelines.

  “I know you are going easy on me, push me a bit more,” the young girl protested.

  Daegan’s eyes squinted in consideration. “Not yet. You are a skilled young warrioress but I can help you learn a few more strengthening skills and moves that will play to your advantage with your size.”

  The girl looked as if she were about to argue, but then took a deep breath and looked him square in the eyes and nodded.

  “What is your name?”

  “Metrí.”

  “And what is your race, Metrí?”

  Suddenly the atmosphere in the field shifted from camaraderie to an animosity that Daegan had not sensed in any of those present thus far. They had, of course, been apprehensive and skeptical of him and the others, but they had attempted to accept him into their circle nonetheless. Daegan did not step back and he did not apologize; however, he did hold a hand up asking them to wait.

  Metrí’s original partner stepped up next to her, showing he was ready to step up to the plate to interfere if he needed to.

  “I ask because in Alandria, where I come from, we are marked with a marking such as this one,” he spoke as he turned and presented his inner forearm with the circle crest of the Ferrishyn to those near him. “It distinguishes one tribe from another.”

  The young man next to Metrí spoke out. “Does it not also separate you? We are distinguished from one another, but are joined in what makes us different from other humans... from others of our kind.”

  Daegan considered what he had said before responding to him. “In a way, yes it does. There are positives and negatives to knowing your heritage. Why I am asking is so that I may know what particular strengths are attributed to your particular race. For example, within the shifter race, there is great strength and there can be great speed. Whatever strengths that come from the specific animals you are gifted to embody are yours as well. The race of Elves has extra speed, mobility, agility, and a great wisdom that comes from the depths of their magic. Faeries of Feraánmar, where I am from, have magic that cultivates and can be very useful in a fight only if necessary, but their true magic is vital after the battle for re-creating that which was destroyed.”

  He looked around to see almost all of them intrigued by the words he spoke, as if they had never heard it presented that way—and perhaps they hadn’t. “As it stands, there is much separation and division because of the races, but if they can come together as you do here on this field and work together with each strength unique to you as individuals, there would be great strength in Alandria.” Daegan’s voice grew quiet. “What I see here is the potential to realize a dream many have thought to be impossible... what I thought was impossible.”

  “Why haven’t you already done this in the realm of Alandria? Surely, we are not so unique?” a voice called out from the group.

  “It has been tried, but it is not easy. It is my belief that it was not attempted genuinely.” Daegan quickly shook off his contemplations and refocused on the group of would-be warriors. “Now, will you allow me to continue to practice with you?”

  He saw a few in the crowd shrug their shoulders indifferently and a few who appeared skeptical, but the overall feeling was acceptance and even hope. Metrí was nodding her head emphatically. She whispered, “Yes,” as her eyes caught Daegan’s while her companion stood protectively close with a scowl on his face. Daegan looked him directly in the eyes, not challenging his spirit but his mind to give the possibility a chance. After not even a few seconds, the young man nodded and relaxed his posture. Daegan noted the brief flicker of what he perceived to be possibilities bubble in the young warrior’s soul.

  “Let us begin again. But first if you would, could you inform me of your parentage so that I might understand how to assist you if I am able?”

  “How is it you think you can train a Shifter or an Elf?” another young female voice asked as she stood in the back of the gathered group.

  “I hold a position in the courts of Feraánmar that has ensured I am trained quite sufficiently in all types of combat, but I also have had the opportunity to work with several from various races that I may be able to pass on to you. Is that sufficient?”

  The warrior nodded, accepting the answer.

  “I only have one request: let’s refrain from the use of the word warrioress, shall we?” Metrí asked with light attitude.

  Daegan smirked playfully. “No? Where I am from, there are very few female warriors. Those there are, that is what they are referred to. I thought it to be a title of honor, but if you do not wish it, then it will be stricken from this field.” He awaited her answer.

  After a moment, she responded, “Hmmm, well, I will think about it then. I don’t want to miss out on any titles of honor.” She smiled playfully back.

  Then a voice rang out from the group, followed by another and another as one by one, the eager warriors in the field started speaking out their race. Daegan sat down cross-legged on the ground, indicating to the others around him to do the same, as many took turns sharing a brief history of what they knew of their parentage. Some had been left in the dark as their parents had either hoped they would not need to know this side of the heritage for their own safety or they simply never had the chance to tell them. Many of them did not know if their parents were still alive or not. Overall, there seemed to be a large number of Shifters in the group, only a handful of Faeries, and an even smaller amount of Elves; most not knowing much about their non-human side.

  As they continued to share their stories, the young warriors watched his every move and his every reaction with eager observation. Daegan remained stoic, listening and absorbing the new information. The last to share her story was Metrí, the fiery little slip of a girl who wielded a staff like one of Alandria. Her white-blond hair was piled up high on her head in a messy bun, her gray eyes intense like the coming of a storm, and the pinkish tints on her cheeks stood out from her porcelain white skin. There was something akin to shame or unworthiness in her eyes as Daegan watched her closely, waiting for her to announce her parentage. She took a deep breath and looked up at him like not many of the others would dare to do.

  “I don’t know.”

  “You do not know who your parents are?” Daegan asked carefully.

  “No. I know nothing of my family and I do not know which race I belong to. I have no extra powers that I am aware of.”

  “How did you know to come here then?”

  “They found me. I mean Ella. She found me. She said that her grandfather sent her and that I was to be a part of this world. She told me that it would be ‘revealed in the right time.’” Metrí used air quotes as her youthful eyes betrayed weariness and sadness. She continued, “I don’t know what that means though. Anyway, I had nowhere else to be and no ties so I figured it couldn’t hurt. Plus something about her felt right, so I went with her.”

  Metrí looked around at everyone else, realizing that they had never asked nor had she ever explained herself to them. “She never told me what my race was or any gifts I might have, just that I would have some and to learn whatever skills I could while I was here.” She shrugged it off. “So, now that I’ve gone all emo on everyone, can I get back to kicking everyone’s asses? I think we’ve all shared our sob stories. It’s time to start training.” She paused, “Teach us, sir. Please?”

  Daegan smiled at Metrí’s spunky attitude. “Yes. Pair off again and begin your routines like you were doing before I stepped in. I will walk around and give comment
s and adjust as needed. Begin.” Daegan turned to Metrí. “Practice with your original partner once more, and I will observe.”

  “His name is Peter,” she informed him.

  Daegan nodded at Peter. He then turned to watch the others get into their formations, expecting them all to do as he asked. They did. The sounds of swords clashing together was like a soothing balm to his ears. There was something that ministered to his being within the sounds of metal scraping against metal. He did not enjoy the acts nor the results of war, but there was something that sang a song into his very soul when he was being who he was created to be. It was refreshing.

  He watched carefully as the men and women of this camp moved and flowed with their strikes and parries. Walking around each group, he would make a comment here and there critiquing, but also praising, their skills. Overall, Daegan was impressed with what he saw for a group that had no true warrior training or that barely knew what skills they should have being part magical. His eye kept being drawn toward Metrí and her partner, Peter. She was a little thing, but she had fire in her eyes and a determination to prove she could be good at what she was doing; clinging to it as if it was all she had, the only thing she had ever wanted to hold onto—and maybe it was. Just by watching for a mere moments, Daegan could see that she was already better than Peter, but she held herself back for his sake. She needed to be pushed, to be challenged to see what she was really capable of. There was something inside him that was drawn to the potential he saw there. He knew he could make her great. Daegan felt something stir within him. Something he hadn’t felt in quite some time... a reason... a purpose—one that felt true and genuine.

  Continuing to walk amongst the group, he would raise an arm holding a sword and tip it at slightly various angles, or adjust someone else’s stance or grip on their weapon. He could feel their initial hesitation but then their response and acceptance. More than once, he would even feel their anticipation as he approached, their hunger to learn and excel. Pride began to rise in his chest just as a tickle of awareness slid up the back of his neck; he was being watched.