The Bonding
Published in the U.S. by:
OakTara Publishers
P.O. Box 8, Waterford, VA 20197
www.oaktara.com
Cover design by Yvonne Parks at www.pearcreative.ca
Cover images © thinkstockphotos.ca: portrait of a young man/Jupiterimages, 80376611; castle ruins landscape/Matt Gibson, 147435042; Celtic national ornaments, 140010230; ancient knightly sword/Ivan Gusev, 99229072; dragon/beast/Ral Kraft, 101076579
Author photo © 2007 by Mary Jones
Copyright © 2013 by Brian C. Hager. All rights reserved.
Cover and interior design © 2013, OakTara Publishers. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in professional reviews.
ISBN-13: 978-1-60290-373-9 ▪ ISBN-10: 1-60290-373-5
eISBN-13: 978-1-60290-416-3 ▪ eISBN-10: 1-60290-416-2
The Bonding is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locales are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity and are used fictitiously. All other characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination.
The perspective, opinions, and worldview represented by this book are those of the author and are not intended to be a reflection or endorsement of the publisher’s views.
* * *
THIS BOOK IS FOR MY FATHER,
ROY THOMAS HAGER,
who, with annoying simplicity,
can solve even the most formidable writerly dilemma.
Thanks, Dad, for always being willing to offer counsel,
even when you’re not sure exactly what my problem is.
Acknowledgments
As usual, there are too many people who gave their time and consideration to help make this book what it is to adequately thank them all here, though chief among them this time are Jeff, Melissa, Young, Mom, and Dad. Thanks also to the Dojo crew who helped with fight choreography. As with anything I write, I deeply appreciate all those who are willing to read, and sometimes re-read, what I give them. I am truly blessed to have such willing servants to help me in my endeavors.
Most of all, I thank God in Heaven for giving me a gift that brings me such joy.
Prologue
SUNLIGHT STREAKED DOWN FROM THE TREES OVERHEAD, spotting the ground with pools of light and dark. The close air felt warmer here amongst the trees, but the breeze blew cooler, even though the wide trunks blocked most of it.
Sean Matthews ducked around a protruding branch and stepped over a low bush, searching for a more open place to fight. He disliked such close quarters, more because an inconvenient tree might snap his wooden sword than because it would hinder his strikes. He enjoyed the challenge of avoiding the natural obstacles while sword fighting; he just didn’t want anything to happen to his sword. It had taken most of a day to create it, and he hated the idea of losing it by accident.
He had cut it from these same woods a few weeks back. He and his best friend, David, had been hunting for new swords after a particularly hard fight had shattered both their weapons. He had wanted to find a curved tree branch that would make a fine sword, but most of the time those types of branches curved either too much or in two directions. Frustration had driven him to cut straight branches for his last three swords, but this time he was determined to have a curved weapon.
David had grown tired of searching even before he found an acceptable branch for himself, mumbling about being too old for this kind of thing now. After that, he had become downright irritating—complaining that his arms and legs hurt, and that it was quickly getting dark. Their parents didn’t like them staying out late on a school night. He still had a whole lot of homework to do. It was almost dinner time. And other such parental admonitions.
But Sean hadn’t listened; he’d simply kept searching. Several times he’d stopped and closely inspected a potential weapon, even going so far as to climb into a couple of trees. But he’d found a flaw every time. As the branches had become harder and harder to see with the oncoming night, he’d thought he would either have to abandon his search until the next day or settle for yet another straight sword.
But finally, in the last rays of the dying sun, Sean had spotted his sword. Even from ten yards away, he’d known it was what he was looking for, almost as if it had called out to him. Approaching it slowly, he’d been awestruck at how perfect it was. The graceful curve, the perfect length, the—
A branch snapped, yanking Sean out of his daydream. He glanced quickly around but saw no one. He shook his head to rid himself of the silliness his imagination had added to his memory and tried to focus on his surroundings.
It had been nothing like that, of course. David had suggested the branch as just an excuse to get Sean out of the woods. Sean had nearly rejected it without looking at it, not trusting his friend’s biased opinion. But he had looked it over anyway and found it acceptable, although he had no idea what kind of wood it was. He’d had to stretch up on his toes to cut it, which took longer, but it had been worth it. After much work, it had turned out to be the best one he’d ever made, which to him wasn’t much compared to the ones anybody else could make.
Sean hefted the weapon. The crossguard he’d nailed on it had proven useful for turning aside Charlie’s habitual thrusts and had saved his fingers from several bruisings by Matt, who always hit too hard.
It was a good weapon, though it curved a little too much toward the end and had a knot that wouldn’t be sanded down. He’d had to cut length off it twice before it felt manageable, for it was heavy toward the tip. The wrapping on the hilt needed changing again, and he swore David had cracked it during their last fight. Still, it served to beat his friends, and Sean wondered not for the first time if it would save him from real enemies, provided the sword itself was real. And he would have to be more than what he thought he was—a goofy kid swinging a cleverly disguised stick.
Those two bullies who’d beaten him up last year reinforced that thought. They’d come upon him during a hard practice and had taunted him about being so strange. Then one of them, Mark, took his wooden sword away from him and had hit him with it when he’d tried to take it back. That had begun a rather vicious beating, the two of them taking turns with his sword to do it, and Sean even now cursed himself for being such a coward. If he were as good as everybody said, he should’ve been able to prevent what those boys did to him. But he’d been too scared to act. Too scared he might hurt them. If only he’d been a great warrior...
The dark-haired youth sighed almost sadly at the thought of living in a fantasy world, knowing if he lived in such a place he would’ve lopped the heads off those two bullies before they’d even thought to attack him. His blood began to boil at the memory and the vengeful fantasies it created, and he took a deep breath to calm himself. Now was not the time to let his imagination get the best of him. He looked around again, almost laughing at himself for the way he let his mind run on and on, and barely had time to leap out of the way of David’s charge.
His friend’s sword missed him by mere inches, and Sean tripped over a low bush as he dodged. The way things seemed to be going for him right at the start, he might suffer his first loss in a year and a half.
David halted his rush just in time to avoid running into the tree Sean had been crouched against and whirled to press his advantage. Something told Sean he was about to lose. He wasn’t sure what it was that told him and had never figured it out the other times it had happened. It always seemed to occur when he was in the most danger, and he�
��d learned to trust it implicitly.
Without taking his eyes off the bush, or halting the unpleasant things he had to say about this particular piece of flora and all its kind, he swept his sword around and blocked David’s strike. Then he purposely fell over backwards to escape the confining plant. The first few years they’d done this, Sean hadn’t been nearly so proficient; he’d get beat as often as everyone else. Lately, though, nothing seemed to touch him.
Pressing his advantage over his now fallen opponent, David surged forward. He jumped around the bush and planted himself over his friend, who attempted to rise. Lowering his wooden blade, he pointed it at Sean’s face. “Surrender or die, Sean.”
“My name’s not Sean. You should know that, Danar.” Sean searched for a possible escape route at the same time he crossly regarded his friend.
David frowned. “Excuse me, Vaun Tarsus. I forgot. And I don’t go by my other name anymore, remember?”
“So? Just because you don’t acknowledge your other self doesn’t mean the rest of us have to ignore it also.”
David rolled his eyes. “Why are you so weird?” He stepped forward as Sean tried to slide out from under him. “And stop trying to get away, man. I’ve got you.”
“I’m not that weird. I simply like to feed my overactive imagination.”
“Maybe. But it’s getting a little old. I mean, it is childish. We’re teenagers now, remember?” David shook his head. “Anyway, that’s beside the point.” He straightened to look imposing. “Surrender, Vaun Tarsus, or whatever your name is, or taste death.”
“Childish!” Sean snapped his sword up, striking David in the groin. It wasn’t a hard hit, but neither was it a soft one. He figured David deserved it after what he’d said.
David grunted, his eyes widening in agony. His wooden sword fell from limp fingers, and he collapsed onto his knees, muttering about his unfair-playing friend.
Sean rolled over and moved to stand by David. “It was a completely fair move, David. You know that. You did the same thing to Matt last time.”
David moaned. “I know, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
Sean smiled and tapped David on the back of the neck with his wooden sword. “You’re dead, my friend, so stop complaining.”
David glared at Sean, then tried to rise. “You could at least help me up. It would be really nice after the dirty trick you played on me.”
Sean couldn’t help grinning. “Dirty trick? Me? I wouldn’t do that. And, anyway, you deserved it.”
“Whatever, dude.” David took the hand Sean extended and allowed his friend to help him to his feet. “You could at least admit defeat once in a while, you know.” David bent to retrieve his dropped weapon and again grunted in pain, muttering an ugly phrase.
“A good warrior never admits defeat, Danar. It’s how he stays alive. And at least I don’t try to swear my way out of trouble.”
David shook his head. “Very funny. But I do think you take this stuff too seriously sometimes, Sean.” Sean frowned at him. “I mean, Vaun.”
Sean patted his friend on the shoulder. “Maybe you’re right. I know the world isn’t what I’d like it to be, but you can’t blame me for dreaming.” He spread his arms in a gesture that took in the whole of the woods around them. “This is my escape from the real world. I use it for pure fun. I know for a while I had trouble separating fantasy from reality, but I grew out of that. I know who I am and where I am, but I also know I’d go crazy if I couldn’t escape every now and then. My imagination needs the release. Besides, something’s got to distract me from how clumsy and stupid I am.”
David usually protested Sean’s self-abuse, but this time he simply nodded his sandy brown head. “I think I’d go nuts, too, but it’s good to see you’re not totally crazy. I thought we’d lost you for a while.”
Sean laughed.
David smiled wryly. “Good luck, Vaun Tarsus. And be warned, I will beat you one day.”
Sean chuckled. “I’m looking forward to it.” He tried his best to grin wolfishly. “But be assured it won’t be easy...Danar.” So saying, he headed off into the woods toward the distant clacking of wooden swords.
* * *
David turned and marched resolutely to the Field of the Slain to await the battle’s outcome, marveling at how Sean could always emerge victorious even when caught off guard. It was almost like he’d been given a gift.
* * *
As Sean headed out of the woods, he thought about the victories he had won this day. They hadn’t been as difficult as they sometimes were, and he was beginning to believe he might be good at something.
After he’d defeated David, he had snuck about for some time until he came upon Will engaged in a desperate fight against Charlie. Joseph stood not too far away and only watched—something that struck Sean as odd. Will and Joseph, a year behind everybody else, always fought together. Shrugging, Sean crept toward the combatants, trying to come upon Charlie from behind while still closely observing the fight. Charlie had refused to share his history homework last week, so Sean felt a little payback was in order.
Will ducked and blocked Charlie’s overhead strike but was slow enough on his return attack that Charlie dodged out of the way. He then forced Will back with a barrage of attacks, carrying the two of them farther away from Sean.
Sean adjusted his course but was brought up short by a sudden, unusual sound. He cocked his head to one side in an effort to hear it better, but it didn’t repeat itself. After a few more seconds of silence, he disregarded it as his imagination and went back to watching the fight.
Will had gone on the offensive. He’d pulled his wooden dagger and struck at Charlie with renewed fervor. To Sean’s mind, Will was the best two-weapon fighter he’d ever seen, and he was glad this was only a game with fake weapons. Had this been real, Will would probably have killed them all long ago. Will’s quickness more than made up for his weak frame, and he forced the stockier Charlie back against a tree. Sean could see the desperation in the older boy, especially since he couldn’t backpedal anymore. He was stuck trying to block two weapons with his one, and he was too slow to keep up his defense for long.
As Sean expected, Will’s speed allowed him to slide his dagger inside his opponent’s guard and jab him in the ribs.
Charlie grunted and bent over, swearing so profusely that Sean became convinced his friend’s ability to swear was a gift.
“You didn’t have to hit me so hard.” Charlie rubbed his side vigorously. He was panting heavily, as was his victorious opponent, and he couldn’t stand fully upright.
Will grinned. “I didn’t hit you that hard, Charles. You just don’t like the blow to your ego. And you deserved it after what you did to Joseph.”
Joseph nodded agreeably. “Yeah, you are so lame.”
Charlie scowled, more because Will had called him by his full name than because he’d lost the fight. Sean knew he hated that, because Charles was what his mother called him when he was in trouble. Still muttering under his breath, Charlie started walking rather stiffly towards the Field of the Slain.
Sean ignored his teammates, focusing instead on determining where that strange noise had come from when Will had beaten Charlie. It had sounded the same as before, but he still couldn’t tell what had caused it. It seemed almost as if it came from inside his head, but also from the direction of the fight. Dismissing the thought, he headed in the opposite direction as Will and walked straight into an ambush.
Matt and Billy, a full two years ahead of Sean and David, had stalked Sean after they’d seen him defeat his best friend and had waited while he watched Charlie get whacked by Will. They’d then backtracked quickly to make short work of the exhausted Will, after which they crept silently through the woods ahead of Sean. Upon reaching a thick cluster of bushes, they hid until he approached. As one, they leapt out screaming when he strolled close enough.
In thinking over the attack, Sean grinned at the looks on his friends’ faces when he’d sli
d smoothly from between them, causing Matt’s clumsy sword to hit Billy rather hard in the stomach. Once Billy had fallen, Sean swiftly disposed of the shocked Matt, and the combat ended.
Sean didn’t recall exactly what he’d done, only remembering that Matt’s sword had sailed about ten feet just before his weapon tapped his friend’s forehead. Billy had demanded to know how Sean had known they were there, and Sean had told him Matt always wore too much cologne. Sean left out the part about that strange noise springing up again; it had alerted him long before Matt’s smell. Billy then told Matt he’d warned him, but Matt tried to deny it, as usual. The two left Sean to practice alone and argued the whole way to the Field of the Slain.
Sean’s mind returned to his surroundings as he exited the woods. Seeing his fellow warriors grouped in the middle of the open field, he grinned as he made his way toward them.
It was only at these times that he was truly happy, and he couldn’t fathom why anyone who stopped by to watch him and his friends battle each other questioned the boys’ collective sanity. It proved to Sean that grown-ups didn’t fully understand the concept of fun.
1
BLACKNESS ENVELOPED THE MAN STOOPED OVER THE PIT. Gazing into the dark depths, he could see nothing. This forsaken place could quite possibly have swallowed the sun itself, had the wizard been able to bring it here. But he did not care about the darkness, for he needed no light to aid his search.
He incanted softly, letting the dark powers wash over him. As they engulfed him, he could hear water never seen by human eyes dripping into a pool far below him. He could smell the forest on the surface high above and taste the fear of a mouse as it ran from an owl. But, most important of all, he could see a speck of light at the bottom of the pit. Calling upon his magic, the dark wizard commanded it to grasp that which he desired so greatly.
The Bonding (The Song and the Rhythm) Page 1