The Bonds of Blood Read online

  Copyright October, 2012 by Travis Simmons

  The Revenant Wyrd Saga Book One:

  The Bonds of Blood

  ISBN 978-1479218288

  Published by: Wyrding Ways Press at Smashwords

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or in any means – by electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise – without prior written permission.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events are either are the product of the authors’ imagination or are used factiously. Any resemblance to actual places, events, and people, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  Thank you for downloading this free ebook. Although this is a free book, it remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy at Smashwords.com, where they can also discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  EPILOGUE

  About The Revenant Wyrd Saga

  Coming Soon

  Catch Travis Online

  CHAPTER ONE

  Grace paced back and forth at the front of the classroom. “So tell me, who was Arael?” Her three students sat at their desks all rubbing tired eyes in rebellion against the morning’s lesson.

  “I don’t understand why we have to be in here when Jovian is off gallivanting around the countryside,” Angelica complained, peering out the window into the sunlit fields and budding flowerbeds beyond.

  “He finished this week’s work last week so that he could go; besides, you would not be allowed in the hunting party,” Grace smirked. “I think it would be deemed sacrilegious; after all, it is a manly time,” Grace scowled. “I guess it would be the equivalent to you three getting together to gossip over boys, except there is more itching and grunting in a hunting trip, and less giggling and hair combing.” This prompted a laugh out of Amber and Joya, but Angelica was still too busy surveying the beautiful day beyond the window to hear much of what Grace said.

  “Angelica,” Grace’s voice resounded as she walked to the window and shuttered it tight. “Tell me, who was Arael?”

  With a sigh, Angelica returned her stare to the front of the room.

  “Well?” Grace prodded.

  “Arael was the leader of the Fallen Ones, with Samazahd as his second in command, who was thrown out of the Ever After by the Holy Mother. It is said that his race mated with female humans and created the first of the giants,” Angelica repeated verbatim, leaning back in her chair and stretching her legs. A smart smack on the back of the head as Grace walked behind her brought her posture into more of a respectful, attentive position.

  “Good,” Grace said, and moved on to Amber. “Amber, tell me, why was Arael removed from the Ever After?”

  Amber, loved history and often spoke as though she had been there herself. “Arael was removed from the Ever After because he refused to bow down to mankind when we were first created by the Holy Mother. He said, ‘Why should I, a son of fire, an angel in my own right and power, fall down before a powerless human of clay?’ Back then, before he was removed, he was known as Iblis, but it wasn’t until after he had been ostracized that he became known as Arael, which means ‘impure.’ He stayed here on earth for many centuries before the Goddess sent down the Twin Flames—” Amber would have continued on and on if Grace hadn’t interrupted her.

  “Very good, Amber. As always, excellent in your history; maybe you can catch Angelica up to speed.” Amber stuck her tongue out at Angelica. “Now Joya,” Grace stopped behind the black-haired child sitting patiently waiting. Joya, unlike all the others on the plantation, resembled little of the characteristics of her fair-haired sisters. “Tell me how it was that the Twin Flames—Pharoh and Sylvie LaFaye—came to be manipulated by the dalua Arael.”

  Joya hastily flipped through her notes before Grace snatched them away from her. “Try telling me without the notes.”

  “Arael sensed their power when they came?” Joya ventured, taking up where Amber left off. There were a hundred different thoughts racing through her mind, several logical, but Joya knew this part of history was not exactly logical. “He came to them in the guise of a friend and made them trust him. In fact, the one ruled by wyrd and emotions, Pharoh, fell in love with him.” Joya stopped, hoping that was all that Grace wanted to know. The silver haired crone stared at Joya for some time, and the younger girl sighed. When Grace leaned forward on the desk at the front of the room, Joya realized she had to elaborate. “By that time the name of Iblis was all but forgotten in the Ever After, and when he supplied the Twin Flames with that name, they did not connect him with name of Arael. It wasn’t long before Pharoh and Arael—now wearing his old name Iblis—were married, and Pharoh became pregnant with her first child.”

  Grace nodded and handed Joya’s notes back to her.

  “Very well done, all of you. Of course, now it would be Jovian or Alhamar’s turn, but seeing how they are both off hunting, we will start all over. Angelica, what happened to the Twin Flames when Arael wedded Pharoh?”

  “They also fell from grace and became part of the Fallen Ones.”

  “But?” Grace urged.

  “But they didn’t believe themselves evil; in their minds they had done nothing wrong. Pharoh and Sylvie had no idea that Iblis was a dalua, and didn’t realize that for some time.”

  Grace nodded. “What finally opened their eyes to this truth?” she asked Amber.

  “The night of Mourner’s Eve, when the Goddess was entering the Realm of the Dead and facing Death’s Three Wisdoms, Arael slew Pharoh high up on the Ivory Tower.” Amber stopped then, not sure if Grace would cut her off or not. When the old lady turned watery blue eyes on her, Amber continued, “Arael, of course, didn’t know that Pharoh was pregnant with their child. Then he turned on Sylvie, but he was too late; Sylvie took up her sister’s Shin-Buto blade and killed Arael.”

  Grace nodded, and walked back to the front of the class.

  “Of course you all know that this is what caused the Splitting of the World?” They all nodded, but seeing how they were having a test on this soon, Grace continued. “The Goddess learned of this, learned that her two favorite angels had been killed, and she damned the earth that allowed it to happen. She removed the most coveted Realm of Spirit from the world, breaking all contact of
normal, everyday wyrd from the people of the land. As punishment, she marked us all.” The three girls flipped over their hands and peered at the round white dots in their palms, announcing to the world that they were inhabitants of the Holy Realm.

  “Those marks would forever remind us of our greed, our lust for power. After all, we were then all struggling to be separate nations, and the war was really a struggle for power, to see which one of all the realms was more dominant, who could rule all the rest.” Grace looked at the girls, now sitting solemnly watching her. “Joya,” Grace said, bringing them all back to themselves, “tell me, why was it that Pharoh and Sylvie were sent here?”

  “They were sent to bring calm and peace; they were sent to stop the warring and to bring the Goddess’s word back to the people.”

  Grace moved on. “Angelica, how does the Carloso describe Arael’s true form?”

  “The Carloso describes Arael as having several serpentine heads, seven in fact, each one bearing two faces, numbering fourteen. On his back rests twelve sets of black wings, allowing him to lift his gigantic body off the ground. Of course, this was not how he looked before he was cast out. It is said that he was one of the loveliest of all the angelic bodies. And he did not appear this way when Pharoh fell in love with him. It is said that at that time he had long flowing golden hair, and large sapphire eyes, creamy flawless skin, and full sumptuous lips—” Angelica’s voice took on a dreamy quality before Grace interceded.

  “That will do, Angelica. It would be best to remember that he was a dalua, and that the form he showed was not his true form, but only a form used to trick others into lusting for him.” Grace opened the window, the topic made her feel as though she needed the comfort of the sun. “Very good; very good indeed. I think that will do for history today. Now if you would all take out your Carlosos and flip to the verses on moon phases, we will continue there where we left off yesterday.”

  Grace traipsed back to the front of the room, pushed the sleeves of her grey robe higher on her plump arms, and sat down with her Holy Book open as well. “Angelica, if you would like to start at ‘Mark my passage’?”

  “It only seems to be getting thicker,” Alhamar indicated the ever thickening fog. Jovian’s father had announced earlier if the fog didn’t let up, they would have to return home from the hunt.

  “Yes, it does. I wager that we will be turning around tomorrow to head home.” At least I hope. Jovian eased his bow from his back and crouched down where he peered through the fog at the shadows beyond.

  “Your father is telling a lot of stories back there; I wouldn’t be surprised if he got the men all riled up for a hunt, and then couldn’t get them to turn around.” Alhamar knelt down beside Jovian, curious as to what he was looking at.

  “Alhamar, my good friend, have you ever noticed how strange the fog dances and swirls around?” Alhamar only grunted. “Or how off in the distance, just out of the range of light, shadows seem to drift in the fog?”

  “Well, Jovian, I don’t think it is odd. After all, fog is the bringer of evil. You did know that it originates in the Shadow Realm, right? It is the mantle those vile people use to creep into the Holy Realm each night.”

  “Alhamar, don’t be absurd. Fog is nothing more than the ground being warmer than the air.” Jovian began to rise, but then his eyes spotted something on the ground. Stooping back down, Jovian traced his fingers around a soft print in the dirt.

  “What did you find? Bison tracks?” Alhamar asked.

  “No, it looks like hooves, live boar’s hooves.” Jovian’s eyebrows knitted together.

  “Great, we didn’t come prepared for boar hunting.” Alhamar sighed, but Jovian shushed him.

  “I don’t think we will have to worry about boar hunting. These hooves are slightly different, more pointed. See the marking before each indentation? It looks like there are claws attached to those hooves.” Jovian was completely confused.

  Alhamar snickered. “Now it is you who are being absurd, Jovian. It must be something else that has made that mark; there are no creatures that fit that description.”

  Jovian once more shushed Alhamar, not because he was concentrating on the mark, but because his ears had quirked at a noise he had heard not far off.

  “Did you hear that?” His emerald eyes cut through the night in search of what had made the noise.

  “What?” Alhamar whispered, looking around. He hated fog, and he hated night, and he hated when someone was acting the way Jovian was now on a foggy night. Alhamar didn’t think of himself as a coward, but the truth was, though he didn’t see himself as a coward, others did.

  “What are we looking at?” a loud voice boomed behind them as Micah sprung out of the shadows.

  “Nothing,” Jovian said matter-of-factly, scuffing out the track. He turned to look at the pale man behind him. “What is going on?”

  “Just wondering if you were taking first watch?”

  Jovian nodded.

  “Good night then,” and Micah turned back to camp.

  Alhamar took his bow from his back and stepped a few feet from Jovian, where he, too, kept watch. “So what was the noise you heard?” he asked after a few moments, peering out into the darkness after a beast he was not sure existed yet his fear made him believe in.

  “I thought it sounded like laughter,” Jovian said.

  “Well,” Alhamar half laughed, half sighed in relief, “that was the men from the camp.”

  “No, I don’t think it was.” Jovian looked off in the other direction. “It came from over there.” Pointing to the north, Jovian’s outstretched arm signaled some far-off destination enveloped in the dense cloud.

  “Jovian, now you have to be reasonable. The fog can make strange things seem to happen. It was most likely an echo from camp.” It was apparent that Alhamar was grasping at straws.

  “No, Alhamar, it wasn’t.” The sarcasm in Jovian’s voice was unmistakable. Getting fed up with all this useless jabbering, he returned his thoughts to the sound. “Fog muffles sound, remember?”

  “What do you think it was then?”

  “I don’t know, Alhamar. Look, if you want to go to bed, I can carry out this watch myself.”

  Alhamar snuffed, “I am not a coward.”

  It was mid-afternoon the next day when the hunting party stopped for lunch. The fog was now thinning the farther from home they got. The line of men had already split into groups of three, and in due time arrows would be flying at their prey. Only a few more miles until they reached their hunting spot.

  All day Jovian had been contemplating the tracks from the night before, but he didn’t say much about it. There was slight conversation between Alhamar and Micah, but Jovian was too intent on his thoughts to join in. As luck would have it, Dauin paired Jovian with Alhamar. Dear Goddess, why?

  They had all been traveling a few hours in their current groups when Micah pulled up short.

  “What is—?”

  “Shut up, Alhamar,” Micah hissed, listening intently. Jovian perked his ears and cocked his head. He hadn’t heard anything, but obviously Micah had. He sat like that for several minutes, listening to nothing, but then as he was just about to turn back to the path before him, Jovian heard it.

  The laughter was far off at first, but then seemed to rapidly approach behind them, before quickly retreating. Jovian stopped dead, reminding himself every now and then to breathe. Again he strained his ears, but heard nothing.

  “Did you hear it?” Micah asked after the laughter ceased.

  “Yes,” Alhamar quavered. “You guys and your damn laughing. Next time I am riding with Alec and Melvin; they don’t try to scare themselves.”

  “Be still, you coward,” Micah spat. “That was a hyena.”

  “What?” Jovian asked, astonished.

  “A hyena; it is a wild animal, damn good hunter, too.”

  “I know what the Otherworld a hyena is. What is it doing in the Holy Realm? They are native to the Realm of Fire.”

 
“I know they are, but believe me, my hunting troop was stalked by a herd of them the whole time we were in the Realm of Fire hunting. That was a hyena we heard just now,” Micah said matter-of-factly.

  “Isn’t that a little strange though?” Alhamar asked. “That there is only one?”

  Micah shrugged and spat on the ground. “Not really. It could be off on its own for several reasons. I am a little more alarmed that it is this far north than I am that it is alone.”

  A few moments of silence passed over them, and when they heard nothing else, the threesome nudged their horses forward. It wasn’t long before a horn blew off in the distance, sounding mournful and eerie in the renewed fog descending on them as if wyrded.

  At the sound of the horn, the three exchanged a worried glance, for they had not even gotten to the hunting grounds yet. All the men around them nudged their horses into a gallop, and the thunder of horse hooves shook the earth as the hunting party launched themselves to the right, where the horn blast pierced the air.

  Jovian also nudged his horse into a gallop, but somehow the other men outpaced him, and he was left bringing up the rear. He galloped for what seemed like hours when he heard the horn blast behind him, very far off behind him. Slowing his horse’s gait, he tried to figure out where he was. He had been traveling east when he heard the horn blow to his left, and then turned for the horn that would put him facing north. If he kept traveling north, that would take him …

  Jovian stopped dead in his tracks, his breath wheezing loudly and painfully to his ears even as his heartbeat threatened to drown out all other noise. A growing unease surrounded him as he realized if he had traveled much farther he would have found himself entering the accursed Shadow Realm.

  With a grimace at his ill luck, Jovian turned Methos back and headed for the main hunting party, or at least where he thought the group should be. He traveled for a time, and when he heard the horn blow again—for they obviously missed Jovian—he realized this time it was on his left, which would mean he was traveling south.

  “What the Otherworld?” Jovian cursed under his breath as he brought the horse to heel. The fog was growing thicker. He figured the best way to fix this problem was to let the men find him.