Bonded: Book One of the ShadowLight Saga, an Epic Fantasy Adventure by Mande Matthews Page B
Authors: Mande Matthews
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head.
"For the sake of
the Mother, child, drink, or it will be my folly as well as yours."
Emma turned and her face
fell into a blanket of compassion.
"Forgive me, Bera. I
did not realize you would risk danger over my behavior."
"Shush child."
The woman fidgeted,
glancing down to examine the tiles in the floor, holding the cup further out
toward Emma.
Emma acquiesced. She
took the cup in her hand, placing the glass against her lips. The servant bowed
her head, unable or unwilling to watch. Erik swiped his hand at the goblet, but
it only passed through as if he didn't exist.
Emma hesitated. "Do
you think you could give me a moment to fix myself before we go?"
The servant raised her
lids, searching Emma’s face, and then nodded.
"Do not be long."
A tight smile stretched
Emma's lips. The servant hurried from the room with the tray. She hummed and
the door closed behind her. Erik wondered how the heavy stone door worked, but
couldn’t figure out a logical explanation. Emma sprung to the window, whistling
through her teeth. In answer to her call, the falcon circled once before
landing.
"Hello, my spotted
friend."
The bird cocked his head
back and forth. Emma sat the goblet on the ledge and cooed. To Erik's surprise,
the falcon responded by clutching the goblet in its beak. The creature flapped,
heaving his wings under the extra weight, then flew off toward the tree line.
Images spiraled in
Erik’s head as he tried to figure how Emma commanded the creature. He thought
of Emma on the Green cuddling a barn cat, a swallow perched upon her knee as
they lounged at Frey’s Festival, Avarr’s fiery gelding bending to Emma’s touch
and how she tamed the swan girl. He wondered at his love with new curiosity.
Before long, Emma’s
feathered friend sailed back. Emma stretched out her arm as the bird landed,
catching his talons in the material of her dress. She removed the empty goblet
from the falcon’s beak and cooed to him, smiling.
Nuzzling her lips into
his feathers, she whispered, "Thank you."
She dismissed him with a
click of her tongue and straightened the blue velvet of the gown clinging to
her curves.
Emma headed toward the
door and rapped upon the stone. A low hum answered her; the massive door swung
open. The corridor stretched before them and Erik strained to follow. When he
attempted to use his legs and arms to propel himself his progress slowed. So he
thought himself forward and discovered he floated along like a twig in a
stream.
Emma trailed behind the
servant, the length of her dress spilling over the tiles. The intricate
scrollwork formed archways every ten paces, a decorous display of leaves,
branches, flowers and wildlife, crafted by a meticulous hand. Erik wished his
little brother could view the mastery of artwork. Even the deftest carvings in
all of Birka looked like child's play in comparison.
The boundless hall rambled
onward and, although windowless, shone as bright as a summer day. The carved
ceiling glowed, emanating light from runes. Liveried servants passed, some
humming in a low voice. They were dressed in the same manner as the woman who
escorted Emma and all bore the same insignia on their sleeves—a tree digging
into the earth, a bubbling spring at the ground’s depths. All were taller and
fairer than anyone he had ever seen, even the plump escort. They reminded him
of Lothar. And Swan.
At length they reached a
double door, decorated with the crest of the tree. Humming again, the servant
passed her hand over a symbol on the doors. They opened as mysteriously as the
one in Emma's room. Erik thought he needed to learn the trick, but laughed at
himself, realizing it didn't matter one wit if he could open doors or not in
his present state.
A sumptuous outlay of
carved stone furniture, expensive drapery and velveteen cushions crowded the
massive room in front of them. Such a chamber would empty the coffers of the
entire Steadsby countryside ten times over. What a vain indulgence,
"For the sake of
the Mother, child, drink, or it will be my folly as well as yours."
Emma turned and her face
fell into a blanket of compassion.
"Forgive me, Bera. I
did not realize you would risk danger over my behavior."
"Shush child."
The woman fidgeted,
glancing down to examine the tiles in the floor, holding the cup further out
toward Emma.
Emma acquiesced. She
took the cup in her hand, placing the glass against her lips. The servant bowed
her head, unable or unwilling to watch. Erik swiped his hand at the goblet, but
it only passed through as if he didn't exist.
Emma hesitated. "Do
you think you could give me a moment to fix myself before we go?"
The servant raised her
lids, searching Emma’s face, and then nodded.
"Do not be long."
A tight smile stretched
Emma's lips. The servant hurried from the room with the tray. She hummed and
the door closed behind her. Erik wondered how the heavy stone door worked, but
couldn’t figure out a logical explanation. Emma sprung to the window, whistling
through her teeth. In answer to her call, the falcon circled once before
landing.
"Hello, my spotted
friend."
The bird cocked his head
back and forth. Emma sat the goblet on the ledge and cooed. To Erik's surprise,
the falcon responded by clutching the goblet in its beak. The creature flapped,
heaving his wings under the extra weight, then flew off toward the tree line.
Images spiraled in
Erik’s head as he tried to figure how Emma commanded the creature. He thought
of Emma on the Green cuddling a barn cat, a swallow perched upon her knee as
they lounged at Frey’s Festival, Avarr’s fiery gelding bending to Emma’s touch
and how she tamed the swan girl. He wondered at his love with new curiosity.
Before long, Emma’s
feathered friend sailed back. Emma stretched out her arm as the bird landed,
catching his talons in the material of her dress. She removed the empty goblet
from the falcon’s beak and cooed to him, smiling.
Nuzzling her lips into
his feathers, she whispered, "Thank you."
She dismissed him with a
click of her tongue and straightened the blue velvet of the gown clinging to
her curves.
Emma headed toward the
door and rapped upon the stone. A low hum answered her; the massive door swung
open. The corridor stretched before them and Erik strained to follow. When he
attempted to use his legs and arms to propel himself his progress slowed. So he
thought himself forward and discovered he floated along like a twig in a
stream.
Emma trailed behind the
servant, the length of her dress spilling over the tiles. The intricate
scrollwork formed archways every ten paces, a decorous display of leaves,
branches, flowers and wildlife, crafted by a meticulous hand. Erik wished his
little brother could view the mastery of artwork. Even the deftest carvings in
all of Birka looked like child's play in comparison.
The boundless hall rambled
onward and, although windowless, shone as bright as a summer day. The carved
ceiling glowed, emanating light from runes. Liveried servants passed, some
humming in a low voice. They were dressed in the same manner as the woman who
escorted Emma and all bore the same insignia on their sleeves—a tree digging
into the earth, a bubbling spring at the ground’s depths. All were taller and
fairer than anyone he had ever seen, even the plump escort. They reminded him
of Lothar. And Swan.
At length they reached a
double door, decorated with the crest of the tree. Humming again, the servant
passed her hand over a symbol on the doors. They opened as mysteriously as the
one in Emma's room. Erik thought he needed to learn the trick, but laughed at
himself, realizing it didn't matter one wit if he could open doors or not in
his present state.
A sumptuous outlay of
carved stone furniture, expensive drapery and velveteen cushions crowded the
massive room in front of them. Such a chamber would empty the coffers of the
entire Steadsby countryside ten times over. What a vain indulgence,
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