Road To Shandara (Book One of The Safanarion Order) by Ken Lozito Page A

looked at Tarimus and noticed that he still had the cut on his cheek put there from his blade. He cut him, but how could he kill Tarimus. With his mouth going dry he scanned the crowd of the coliseum. All the onlookers watched silently, like judges on a panel. He dropped his backpack to the ground and drew his Falcons.
    Let’s do this.
    If this was going to be his end then he would be sport for no man or demon alike.
    Tarimus wickedly bared his teeth and drew his black sword that drank the light. They each regarded the other, poised, and at the same instant they both charged. The single clash of blades rippled through the air.
    Aaron spun and was ready for Tarimus bringing his great dark blade to bear. The fury of each hack from the dark blade rattled his hands and arms, but he numbingly held on. How can he be so quick with a sword that big? Scrambling he managed to deflect or dodge the onslaught of attacks. Not blocking quick enough earned him a shallow slice burning down his side and a blurring kick sent him into the air. Aaron stumbled to get up and Tarimus kicked him down again in a furious howl.
    “Ferasdiam marked or not, you will never survive this!” Tarimus spat and after an explosive combination sent Aaron reeling to the ground once again.
    “This is no dream world boy. Here you are a master of nothing.”
    A thundering kick sent Aaron down again raining blow after blow until it felt as if it were happening to someone else. Part of Aaron wondered when he would stop feeling the pain and the other part of him raged for him to get up. That deep core where the greatest reserves of strength reside began to defy logic and he rose shakily to his feet yet again.
    “Why do you do it? Why get up?” Tarimus stopped kicking him, breathing heavily.
    “Why fight a battle you cannot hope to win? Are you so eager to die?” Tarimus screamed with his nightmarish blade held at the ready. “Would it be so bad to give yourself over to me?” he asked calmly.
    Aaron looked up steeling himself for another blow. He hurt everywhere, but the fire within him hadn’t diminished in the slightest. He planted his fist into the ground and rose to one knee.
    “Why, why do you persist,” Tarimus asked through clenched teeth.
    Aaron struggled to get to his feet, his eyes meeting Tarimus raising his chin, “Because I choose to .”
    Tarimus was right about one thing, this was a fight he could not win, not here in this place, but perhaps he could survive and that was enough.
    “Tarimus dwells in the plains between life and death with a foothold in each world, but is denied the release for which he truly yearns.” Colind had told him a golden truth which became apparent to Aaron in this moment of bruised clarity. Tarimus needed to learn to let go. This truth gave him purpose and with that his strength began to return with warm waves flowing through his body. The medallion grew warm against his chest and a faint blue glow began to emanate from his discarded backpack.
    “It’s not too late for you,” Aaron said still hunched feigning weakness.
    “For what,” Tarimus replied contemptuously.
    Aaron paused, giving Tarimus a long look standing straight up before he answered. “To do the right thing, to let it all go and be at peace.” Aaron said mildly. A flash of disbelief crossed Tarimus’s face before he began laughing with a maddening glint to his eyes. He expected as much, but sometimes words spoken have an uncanny way of coming back to haunt you.
    “Do you seek to save me boy,” Tarimus sneered.
    “No, to remind you," Aaron brought up the Falcons and released the bladesong into a swirling harmony that comprised his soul’s heartbeat. The voices and life force of those who had come before eagerly came to the brink, their knowledge readily available, but Aaron held them there. This was his fight. The crystals in his swords began to glow casting off a pure white light blurring in the speed of Aaron’s dance. The silent audience