Warrior from the Shadowland by Cassandra Gannon Read Free Book Online Page A

something even worse happened to her.  Just about everyone else Cross
had ever known was dead, so odds seemed high that being around him would
eventually kill her, too.
    It
made him feel sick to even think about it.
    Unfortunately,
Cross was realizing that his stepfather had been right about him all along.  He
was a selfish bastard, because, even as he stared at Nia’s bloody arm, he knew
that he was never going to let her go.
    He
couldn’t.
    She
was the only thing that let him think past the pain.  The only quiet spot he
had against the constant roar on his head.
    It
had taken a full year for Cross to withstand the agonizing pressure of the
Shadows enough to function, at all.  It felt like his skull was trying to crack
open; like branding irons were scorching his forehead, while hammers beat on
the inside of his brain.  And, even worse, there was a constant, overwhelming
fear that he’d slip again and the world would end permanently, taking his
Phase-Match with it.
    For
that first year, he’d lived in total isolation.  When he was lucky, anyway. 
Sometimes other Phases would show up, wondering how he was still alive.  He
made sure they never stayed long.  Ordinarily, Phases couldn’t enter the
territory of other Houses without permission.  Unless they were incredibly
powerful, they had to be granted access.  For a long time, Cross didn’t have
the control to work the Shadowland’s barriers, though.  So, Phases came and
went.  Cross had vague memories of several of them, but Job was the only one he
attached a face to.
    Job,
of the Earth House.  The oldest, most powerful Elemental alive.  The Earth
House was the largest of the Elemental Houses and Job supported most of it
himself.  They guy no doubt only paid Cross a weekly visit out of duty. 
Because he thought it was right .  He sure didn’t hang out in the
Shadowland for the company.  But, Job’s robotic quest for perfection wouldn’t
allow him to ignore Cross’ predicament, no matter how much he wanted to. 
Still, Cross had never asked Job to stop coming to see him.  Never tried to
chase him off, like he did with the others.
    As
stupid as it seemed, he liked to listen to Job talk.
    Job’s
musical voice turned everything into a story.  Cross had never heard any
bedtime stories as a child.  Hell, he hadn’t even had a bed.  But, something
about Job’s tales soothed him even through the agony in his skull.  Job spoke
of times long past and Phases who existed now only in his memories.  He told
Cross about his efforts to restore order to the Elementals and save them from
extinction.
    And,
sometimes, he’d complained about Nia, of the Water House.
    Job’s
perfect voice would become awash with irritated affection as he detailed
whatever new plan the woman was cooking up and arguing in front of the
Council.  Job cared for Nia.  Cross had always heard that in the stories.  But,
she wore him out with her endless, defiant ideas.  In his throbbing mind, Cross
had always pictured her as a gigantic, fearsome creature, trying to beat Job
and the Council into submission with nothing but her own moral certainty.
    A
crusader.
    The
image intrigued him.  Deep inside, Cross knew that he was broken.  As a child,
as an adult, and certainly after the Fall, he’d proven that he was flawed.
    Useless.
    Weak.
    Wrong.
    Nia
of the Water House had the purity of focus that Cross had always wanted.  The
courage to stand up to anyone and fight for what she believed in.  The strength
to actually hope and work for something better.
    Of
course, Phases like Nia and Job survived the Fall.  Even Cross’s own ephemeral
sense of right and wrong saw that as just.  They would never let their Houses
crumble or the world end.  They were righteous.  Selflessly committed to saving
the universe.  Cross only hung on because he wanted his Phase-Match even more
than he wanted the pressure in his head to finally stop.
    Sometimes,
deep in the night, when the pain got so