Bonded: Book One of the ShadowLight Saga, an Epic Fantasy Adventure by Mande Matthews Read Free Book Online Page A

wishing the dream would seize him again.
    Hallad and Rolf
exchanged hushed words from the other side of their camp. Erik suspected they
discussed him, but ignored them both. He lay awake until the others settled
down. Emma’s sweet face floated in his memory as he fought off the stinging
under his eyelids.
    After the others nodded
off, Erik rummaged through his saddlebag until he found Emma’s golden key. He
fumbled with his fingers, affixing the charm around his neck, tucking the piece
beneath his tunic. He placed his hand over the key, his heartbeat thrumming
under the metal, as a dreamless sleep captured him.
     

Chapter 9
     
     
    After days of travel,
they stood upon a rocky precipice surveying the landscape below. The wild
waters of the river Syrra, with the gulf of the Sea of Gods gulping at her
head, cut into the canyon banks and separated the group from their destination.
Their path led to a wooden bridge strung across a chasm hundreds of feet above
the raging waters. Bridge met road and continued downward into the tangle of
the city. The bustling port city of Birka ranged from nordr to sudr. It was the
largest establishment Hallad had ever seen, spread beneath them like a jewel at
the edge of a boundless sea.
    As they descended, an
array of fish and salt smells burned Hallad’s nostrils. His stomach groaned. His
father had packed plenty of dried meats and breads but Hallad longed for the
taste of fresh food, especially after a few nights of Rolf’s burnt rabbit.
    "We'll get a hot
meal, supplies and a warm bed for the night before we seek the Temple."
    Rolf stuck his chin in
the air. His sparse hairs—an attempt at growing a beard—poked in all
directions.
    "I don't take
orders from the godhi's son."
    "We should have
left you at home embroidering with the women," Erik replied.
    The elder brother grew
more irritable with each day of their travel. Hallad spent most of his time
worrying over Erik’s wellbeing, defusing fights between the brothers and trying
to keep Erik from hounding Swan, the name they had taken to calling their
travel companion. Though Swan stayed close by his side she remained elusive,
even refusing Hallad when he tried to tend to her bandage. A stolen peek of the
wound he had inflicted the night they had met rested his mind though; the
incision had healed quickly, forming over with pink skin.
    "It's all right,
Erik. What would you have us do, Rolf?"
    "I would . . . "
Rolf hesitated, glancing at Erik. "I would find a good meal, supplies and
a soft bed." He smiled his toothy grin. "And a horn of warm ale for
my belly."
    Hallad rolled his eyes. Erik
hinted at a smile. Swan bore what resembled a smirk. Hallad swiveled his head
to hers—he'd never seen her smile—but by the time he looked again her carved
face appeared as straight as a sword. For the first time he wondered if she
understood their conversations and cursed his presumptions.
    "And a fine young
maid's bottom to pinch," added Rolf.
    Erik and Hallad both
sniggered. Hallad chanced a glance at Swan, but her face remained stone. As
they continued down the path, Rolf recited Lokesenna , acting out the
contest of insults between the gods with exaggerated gestures.
    Finally, they passed
under the thick beams of the entry way to Birka, the weighty doors swung wide
open in welcome. The city bustled. People bumped into one another—some offered
a hearty pardon, while others fought over the unexcused offense. The aroma of
fresh fish, oysters, mussels, grains, spices and whale fat wafted through the
streets as merchants hawked their wares in any space they found that would fit
their carts and blankets.
    "We’ll find lodging
and stables for the horses first," said Hallad. "We should have time
for supplies before dusk."
    Hallad led the crew,
horses in tow, through the packed streets. As civilians noted Swan’s leather
breastplate and impressive broadsword, they backed away, giving her wide berth.
An occasional passerby crossed their index