The Light Keepers (ShadowLight Saga Book 0)

by Mande Matthews

  THE LIGHT KEEPERS

  A Short Story Prequel to the ShadowLight Saga

  By

  Mande Matthews

  PUBLISHED BY:

  The Light Keepers: A Prequel to the ShadowLight Saga

  Copyright 2012 by Mande Matthews

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Author's Note

  THIS IS A SHORT STORY PREQUEL to the SHADOWLIGHT SAGA. The following takes place a few moon cycles before Bonded begins. It is a self-contained story featuring the elusive character, Swan, called Astrid in this prequel. For anyone who has struggled, or doubted, or denied their own truth, this one's for you.

  PLEASE NOTE: at the end of this short prequel, you'll also find an eight chapter preview of book one. I hope you enjoy the journey.

  THE LIGHT KEEPERS

  "The epic begins . . ."

  Chapter 1

  Astrid carefully placed her boots over the frozen ground, hoping her footfalls would not be detected as she slunk along the edge of the creek bed. Early morning left a coating of hoarfrost on the branches that stuck up from the banks of the ice covered waters. The young woman slid around the dormant bushes so as not to disturb the delicate patterns of frost, while she hunted for enough cover to execute an ambush. Balin would come for her soon, and she needed to be prepared.

  "I can see your boot marks in the snow!"

  The thunder of Balin's voice startled Astrid. Even though she realized her mother's warrior hunted her, she did not expect him so soon. Her skin quivered underneath the layers of her mantle and tunic. She tensed, stopping in her tracks, holding herself still.

  "The snow betrays your path! You are easy prey to track, even in this morning's mist!"

  Astrid maneuvered closer to the creekside underbrush, seeking the concealment of the nearby thicket. Once positioned with adequate shelter, she crouched. She had hoped to reach higher ground for her standoff. Instead, she huddled a few paces down from the level of the field, spying over the edge of the bank into the wintry landscape above, searching for movement.

  The predawn light washed the starkness of the land in a lavender hue. A blanket of mist obscured long patches of ground, settling across a meadow that extended toward her makeshift home. Vapor clung in the dip of the creek bed, providing more camouflage. Astrid hoped it would be enough to gain the advantage lost by the inferior placement in her surroundings.

  Balin's bulk appeared out of the mist, a giant of a man with a battle sword drawn and ready. The sheer mass of him was enough to cow even a war hardened soldier. As tall as Astrid stood for a woman, she was, nevertheless, an ill match—in both size and experience—against her mother's chosen guardian.

  "A wise decision." Balin's voice boomed in the stillness. "The brush of the creek bed keeps snow off the earth. You can hide your passing."

  He knows where I am. A rush of blood shot into Astrid's limbs. She reached for her sword, feeling the cold, hard iron press against her palm. With a singular movement, she released the blade from its cover.

  "I can hear the ring of your metal!" Balin pointed his massive sword in her direction, gripping the hilt with both hands; he rumbled across the ground toward her like a landslide of boulders.

  I have betrayed my position.

  Astrid scrambled up the bank, flattening herself against the snow laden earth, hoping the whiteness of her hair and skin would blend with the mist and hide her from the warrior's sight. She slithered on her belly away from the oncoming earthquake of Balin, making a wide circle around him. She sprang to her feet and crept to his backside, training the tip of her blade at the back of his neck.

  Balin jerked around and smiled, splitting the muff of hair that covered his lower face. "Your stealth is superior, but I out reach you. How will you manage when my blade beats yours in length and heft? You should have taken your lead while you had one. Every fighter knows one hesitation can be fatal. Have you just committed that deadly mistake?"

  The man's constant jabber rattled her. Astrid knew it was meant to, but she did not share the same advantage. Silence was her only option. Silent from birth, her voice had never once sounded—not even a hum, a sigh of happiness, or a cry for help. The words she spoke remained locked in her own mind. Those thoughts fired up from her depths and fueled her fury toward Balin.

  She pressed forward, into the warrior's guard, forcing him to step backward in order to meet her blow.

  This is for the time you hunted me down, dragged me home, and stole my only chance at friendship.

  Astrid struck at the warrior, remembering the young villager who had wandered into a remote meadow near their encampment. The girl had befriended her and invited her back to her family’s farm on the far side of the valley. When her mother and Balin found Astrid, the brute threw her over his shoulder like a sack of grain and carried her off. They dismantled their home after her indiscretion with the outsider and moved yet again, deeper into the Scandian wilderness and away from the prying eyes of strangers.

  Balin blocked her blow, and Astrid thrust again.

  How could the companionship of one little girl have caused us harm?

  The clang of iron against iron spoiled the morning's quietude as the two jabbed and lunged.

  Do you know what it's like? Being so alone?

  "I sense anger in your swing." Balin said with a laugh.

  Of course, you don't. You have my mother. You follow her like a dog.

  "Anger prolongs your fight, but you cannot outlast one with my superior strength."

  As if to prove his point, Balin's next strike sent a tremor through Astrid's body. Her muscles gelled inside her skin as she struggled to meet his blow. She pushed back, but could not match him. Instead, she released, rolling to one side as the warrior's sword sliced into the snow. She continued to spin into a crouch, using the force of the momentum to thwack the blunt side of her sword against the back of Balin's knees. The warrior buckled and crashed downward, catching himself with his free hand. He scooped a mound of snow into his fist.

  "You've discovered my weakness. Height can be a disadvantage as well as a benefit."

  At least I can enter the shadowwalk to ease my loneliness, and you cannot block me. Guilt seized her at the thought of the forbidden power, and she hesitated, losing sight of her surroundings for a moment.

  A shower of snow hit her face, blinding her. She heard Balin grunt as he moved. Astrid reached up to rub the freezing wet powder from her eyes, but when her vision cleared Balin was nowhere to be seen.

  She spun, but something whacked her across the middle of her back, sending her flying. The force of the blow knocked her several paces forward, plunging her into the snow. Her face met the bite of frost as she fell flat on the ground. A chill spread through her. She spat flurries from her mouth, struggling to get upright.

  The frigid tip of Balin's blade pinched the side of her neck, pressing her back down. Caught, she allowed herself to be guided by his sword as she turned on her back and looked up at the bear of a man. His bulk hunke
red over her as his breath joined the nip of the morning breeze. Every muscle under her skin tensed.

  "You let your thoughts get the best of you, and now you're a dead woman."

  The warrior pulled his sword upward, as if to gain impetus for the drive through Astrid's skull. She watched the metal recede, transfixed as the sun's rays caught the iron, casting beams of light upon her.

  "Once you engage, you fight to kill or be killed. Nothing else should cloud your mind or cause you doubt."

  Balin drove the sword downward. Astrid held still, denying the desire to flinch; she refused to acknowledge the man or his weapon. The sunbeams blurred as the warrior spiked the tip of his blade into the ground—a hair's width from Astrid's head.

  "Enough sword practice for today." The warrior extended his hand to help her up.

  Astrid ignored his outstretched arm and sprung to her feet, dusting the whiteness from her mantle and trousers.

  Balin reached for her shoulder, forcing her to engage him with her gaze. "Trust yourself to be in the flow. Let instinct take you. Your ability in swiftness and stealth make you a formidable opponent. You would have defeated me had you not been battling your thoughts as well."

  The familiar pang of tightness formed in Astrid's throat. She clenched her jaw and turned away.

  All my complaints unheard, all my frustrations remain, and Balin tells me to forget them and focus on an imaginary fight.

  The warrior gripped her shoulder.

  Astrid sloughed off his touch and stalked off. The frigid air whipped around her, causing her long ice-white hair to lift from her mantle and extend into the wind as if reaching for the comfort of another human being. But none would be found. None ever were, except within the shadowwalk, which she knew was forbidden. For as long as she could remember, her mother and the warrior had been her only companions. Others were not permitted in her presence.

  "I do not speak lightly, Astrid," he called at her back, "you would have bested me today. That is a valiant accomplishment."

  She bristled at his compliment, continuing toward the huff of wood smoke smudging the horizon.

  "Your mother is expecting you for your lessons in song. Do not make her wait. She tires easily these days."

  Astrid sheathed her sword as she marched. Their hut appeared in the distance, a vague outline in the morning's mist. The pain in her throat increased as she approached.

  I'd rather wrestle a wolverine than battle through one of my mother's lessons.

  Chapter 2

  "Concentrate."

  Astrid lay on her back with her eyes closed, listening to her mother's command. Isla's voice drifted above her. The older woman's speech still held a melodic quality, like a fine tune sung over a summer breeze, yet the tone waned, as if her vocal chords wilted inside her throat.

  "You must stay completely tranquil. Empty your thoughts and feel for the Mother."

  Frustrations from the morning's instruction with Balin still raged. Her pulse quickened at her mother's demand for inner stillness. Her head spun with her desires for companionship. The young woman's inability to communicate her needs clenched her muscles, like a noose tightening around her neck.

  "Nei, my child."

  Her mother grabbed hold of Astrid's shoulder. Even Isla's touch had weakened over the seasons—still firm, but lacking the inner strength Astrid feared since childhood.

  "Calm yourself and listen."

  The young woman drew in a breath, trying to obey. Isla's voice turned melodic and her touch sent a vibration through Astrid's shoulder. The sensation spread throughout her limbs, and her mind quieted. Astrid suspected her mother used the touch of the Mother in order to calm her. She melted at the timbre of her Isla's words and the softness of her fingers upon her, drifting, nearly to the point of sleep.

  An image flashed behind her eyelids. Hallad, the boy her mother often spoke of as Astrid's future—now a man—appeared in front of her. He sat upon a plank, watching two younger men squabble across the room from him. Hallad's muscles bunched under his linen tunic as he fiddled with a green bow in his lap. His hands were broad, like his shoulders. His legs and arms overpowered the short bench, like a tree reaching for both the depth of the earth and the height of the sun at the same time. Light from the longhouse's vent holes shone down upon him, illuminating his tousled hair and skin with a golden wash. While the young man observed the others as they bantered, Astrid realized Hallad stayed apart from them—wanting to join in, but unable. When she had viewed him through the shadowwalk before, jealousy for his life full of companionship sprang up inside her, but now she understood his connection to others was merely an illusion. For whatever reason, he felt alone—like her.

  "Astrid!" Her mother's voice hit like a slap. The vision disappeared. "You are not sleeping, are you?"

  Astrid shook her head.

  I wandered into the shadowwalk without the ward, and with mother watching!

  "What is that look upon your face?"

  The young woman realized her lips had formed a smile. She pressed them back into a straight line.

  "You do not enter the shadowwalk without shielding your whereabouts! You know how important that is, Astrid. I have lectured you time and time again. You must always guard against the Shadow before you sleep, and you never willingly go into the walk. You understand this, do you not?"

  Astrid nodded, unable to admit her guilt. Even if she managed to control the shadowwalk, she would never purposely cut herself off from the only solace to her loneliness. Viewing others through the walk wasn't the same as seeing them in the flesh and blood, but it was the only window to life she had.

  Isla huffed, drawing out her breath. "I've schooled you on the dangers of the Shadow since childhood. I've warded you for your entire life to keep you safe. It is high time you learn for yourself."

  Her mother firmed her grip upon Astrid's shoulder.

  If she knew I went into the walk every night, after she'd sung the ward, what would she do?

  "Listen, my light, listen for your heart."

  I've seen him, Mamma, the boy you call my destiny, and I long to go to him.

  "Do you hear your heart beating?"

  A thump resounded within Astrid's chest. She nodded. Her throat tightened another notch at the thought of slipping back into the walk. She struggled to focus on her mother's words, but a rush of images pushed at the corner of her mind.

  "The Mother's life blood beats along with yours." Isla patted her fingers against her daughter's collar bone, matching the rhythm of Astrid's heart. "Now, set the ward by saying the word algiz."

  Astrid twisted her lips, trying to form the first syllable—her mouth awkward, unruly, and unwilling to comply.

  With my eyes closed it would be so easy to slip away and see him again.

  "Al…giz." Her mother enunciated the rune name, drawing out the vowels as if speaking to a child.

  Astrid squeezed her eyelids tight, grimacing, forcing back her thoughts of the young man as she tried to speak. Her tongue thickened as she twisted it inside her mouth. She bit her lower lip in frustration, and shot upright, opening her eyes.

  Isla struggled to stand from where she knelt by her daughter's side. Her frailty startled Astrid. With her eyes closed, she could imagine her mother as she had once been, a striking, towering figure, resonating with quiet power. But now her mother's legs wobbled as she straightened, and her body wasted and thinned.

  Isla's amber eyes shone with concern; the color matched the low-lights of her blonde hair. Even though her face retained a peculiar agelessness, the sickness wore through, hollowing her cheeks, as if eating her away from the inside out.

  Astrid reached out to steady her mother, but Isla backed up, unfolding her hands to reveal a stone marked with the algiz rune.

  "Watch me, then, but do not give up." Her mother's voice fell, heavy with effort. "You must learn to fight the darkness. I will not always be here to ward the Shadow for you and my strength…"

  Astrid's brows
knitted with worry at her mother's inference. She reached toward Isla, but once again, her mother stepped backwards.

  A rumble started in the back of Isla's throat, as if clearing a pathway. Then, her song blossomed, filling their one-room hut.

  "Algiz," sang Isla, but the word took on multi-layered intonations as her mother weaved a melody throughout the two syllables, drawing them out. The room buzzed. The rune floated from Isla's hand. The round stone hovered above her palms, glowing white, casting beams on Isla's thin cheeks.

  In an instant, a cocoon snugged around them, like a layer of invisible down-feathers. The once dead space vibrated with energy. Astrid stretched her arms outward to revel in the sensation.

  "Some hear her as a pulse. Others hear a hum, or a song, or a whisper within them." Isla cocked her head, studying her daughter. "See? You can feel the Mother. You just need to open to her."

  Astrid stared up at the gleaming figure of Isla, stunned by her power. She could not imagine anything inside her could be as beautiful. She knew darkness lingered in the corners of her being. Why else would she be so willing to risk the shadowwalk when her mother preached against its dangers? The young woman shook her head to argue.

  I cannot.

  "You must learn!"

  The demand struck Astrid like another blow. A sharp note escaped her mother's lips, and the rune stone dropped back into Isla's hand. The light extinguished along with the energy that had saturated the room.

  "These are not games we play Astrid! You possess more power than anyone who has ever lived, save perhaps, the Mother herself. I know. I have seen it. Much rides on you. And you sit here in your stubbornness, refusing to try."

  But I've tried for so long and I don't know how!

  Astrid's neck constricted again, until she registered a sharp pain in her throat. She pushed down a swallow as her mother glared at her.

  Then Isla wobbled, reaching for the hut's center pole to steady herself.