The Aether Blade (Greatborn Book 1) Read online

  The Aether Blade

  Greatborn Book One

  “The Aether Blade” by EA Hooper

  “Greatborn” book series by EA Hooper

  Copyright © 2017 | All rights reserved

  Cover by Ace Book Covers

  Thank you to everyone who has supported my dream of being a writer, and a special thanks to my friends Daniel and Harley for the original concepts of Pyre and Radu.

  Content

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  Amikah Delgard sat at her dining room table in the soundless hours beyond midnight with a bottle of rum in her hand. She stared at the sheathed dress sword sitting on two rusted nails on the wall. Amikah often awoke at night and found herself drawn to the old weapon. She had taken the curved sword to the market several times but always turned home instead of selling the blade. Amikah reached across the table and took the sword from its resting place. Her left hand grabbed the hilt while she held the cherrybark sheath between her ribs and the stump that remained of her right arm.

  The half-drunk woman pulled the blade from its scabbard with one silent movement. She placed the sword on the countertop and ran two fingers across the flat side of the blade. “Battle of Gray Ridge,” she whispered as her fingers passed over a chip in the edge. “The defense of Far Hold.” Amikah smiled when her fingers touched a scrape on the side of the blade. “Yaarnu Lake Massacre.” She frowned, touching a discoloration. Then her hand fell on a crack in the hilt guard. “Battle of Crystal Fjord.”

  She lowered her head, and her white hair fell between her eyes and the dress sword. “I miss those bastards,” she said, burying her face into her hand. “We did so many wonderful and terrible things. It’s a damn shame that life is behind me.” She grabbed the bottle and chugged spiced rum while tears warmed her cheeks.

  “Mommy?” a five-year-old boy called from the doorway. His drowsy eyes couldn’t see his mother’s tears in the dark.

  “Valx!” Amikah hid the bottle under the table and rubbed her tears away. She stood from the chair and smiled. You never used to smile except in battle, she remembered, but you have to for him. “Why aren’t you in bed?”

  “I can’t sleep,” Valx murmured. “Can you tell me one of your stories?”

  Amikah nodded and led her son to his room. Valx climbed into bed and squirmed around beneath the sheets until he found a comfortable position. Once settled, he laid his head on his pillow with his hands placed together by his face. The small boy grinned, wide-eyed and blinking, as Amikah seated herself in a chair by his bed.

  “What kind of story do you want to hear?” the mother asked.

  “How did you lose your arm?” the child whispered.

  Amikah’s mouth opened halfway. She lifted her left hand and touched what remained of her right arm. Amikah could still feel the pain of her lost arm. People in town often stared and asked her questions about the arm, but nothing bothered her as much as the physical agony. She sometimes thought that the pain was her punishment for the things she had done in her previous life. That arm is waiting for me in hell, she told herself.

  “Why don’t I tell you more about the old heroes?” Amikah asked. “The greatborn with the power of gods. You love those stories.”

  “Where did they come from?” the boy asked.

  “The same place that all people come from,” Amikah answered. “The Old Empire.”

  “The Old Empire?”

  “That’s what it’s called in legends. Years and years ago, before anyone laid eyes on the continent of Ter’al, people lived in the Old Empire far across the ocean in a land called Fey’al. Even there, those people with strange power were thought legends. At least until one of the emperors became enthralled with stories about them. The emperor searched his lands for people born with incredible gifts and discovered them living as regular citizens across his empire.”

  “Did the emperor become their friends?” Valx’s eyes shined.

  “Sadly, no. He tried to find out how they could do such amazing things, but not even they understood their power. You see, they were born with their unique gifts. But none of them knew why, and that made the emperor angry.”

  “Why did he get mad?”

  “He wanted their power. His citizens didn’t like him, and the emperor wanted to use their power to stop rebellions. So, he made a plan. He gathered those people together and made them prisoners. Of course, they would never follow him, but he would raise their children to obey him.”

  “This isn’t a very nice story.” Valx pulled his blanket to just below his eyes.

  “No, but it’s an important story. The emperor made the strongest of the greatborn have children and found their progeny were even stronger. By the time the emperor’s grandson became emperor, the greatborn had nearly unstoppable power. But the empire couldn’t control them forever. Some turned on the emperor and started an uprising. The empire fell into a terrible civil war with powerful greatborn on both sides.”

  “Who won?”

  “No one. The Old Empire tore itself apart. Individual cities became city-states that began to fight over land and resources. There was no hope for their civilization. A few individuals realized all was lost, and they came up with an idea to escape and start anew. They gathered hundreds of gigantic ships and headed for a new land.”

  “They came here, right?” His voice waned, and Valx’s eyes blinked between open and closed.

  “That’s correct, my sweet son. They arrived here in Ter’al and made a new home. But that was a very long time ago, and few people still know this story. Most who hear it don’t believe it, but I know we all descended from the people on those boats. The reason I can tell you so many stories of heroes and villains with the powers of gods is that a few greatborn made it to those boats. Some of the same people who had caused the destruction of the Old Empire joined with common people to find a new home away from the fighting. All the myths you hear about wizards or demons or gods coming down to our world are actually the descendants of those people. People who had the power to defeat armies. People who brought ruin to an empire. People who made great mistakes in their lives and gave up everything to find peace. When you hear stories about how they’ve slain kings and monsters alike, you need to remember they’re not wizards. Or demons. Or gods. They’re still people like you and me.”

  Amikah realized Valx had fallen asleep. The mother departed from the room and knew her son would dream about the heroes of old and the stories she had told him. Maybe Valx would even dream of being a great hero himself. I hope he never becomes part of those stories, Amikah thought.

  Chapter 1

  Valx Delgard stirred to find the first rays of light reflecting off dust in the air of his bedroom. He watched the dust sparkle, and then he slipped back into his dream. The second time the young man awoke, rough light greeted his eyes. He rolled onto his stomach with a bothered grunt and pushed his face into his pillow.

  The floor creaked outside his door. “Valx, are you getting up soon?” his mother’s voice called from the doorway.

  “A few minutes,” the seventeen-year-old groaned.

  “I brought up water and heated it,” his mother said. “You should clean while it’s warm. Breakfast will be ready soon.” Her presence faded with squeaks of the hallway floor.

  After several minutes, Valx forced himself out of bed. He walked down the narrow hall outside his room and entered the cramped washroom by the backdoor. He grabbed a rag and soap from the counter, undressed, and kneeled at the pot of warm water in the center of the room.

  The young man cleaned his tanned body, a common trait of citizens of the Western Kingdom. After scrubbing his body, he closed his silvery-blue eyes and dunked his head into the water to wash his cloud-white hair.

  Valx dried himself and changed into clean clothes. He dumped the water out of the backdoor and headed to the dining room. The auburn floors groaned as he stepped through his dark and cozy house. Valx entered the dining room where bread and fish waited for him on a plate with an apple and a cup of water on the side. He approached a cabinet where he found a small knife. Valx tucked the knife into the back of his trousers and pulled his linen shirt over it before he sat to eat.

  His eyes fixated on the dress sword on the wall. As a child, he thought the old weapon was only a decoration, but sometimes he walked into the room and caught his mother transfixed by the sword. Amikah had told Valx that she and his father, Iximir Delgard, used to travel with a caravan when they were younger, trading goods from town to town. Valx assumed they had carried the sword for self-defense. His mother had also told him that his father had died in the same
bandit attack when she lost her arm, but she had never given him more than vague details.

  Valx shoveled the bread and fish into his mouth and drowned it with water.

  The young man was nearly finished eating when his mother entered the room. “You better not sleep that late tomorrow,” she said. “We have to get to the shop early.”

  “Don’t worry,” Valx grumbled. He cleared his plate, but the apple remained untouched. “I’m leaving now. Roz and Xulthen are probably waiting for me.” He stood from the table and slipped on his sandals by the front door.

  “Hold on.” Amikah snatched the apple off the table. “Can you stop by the market and check the shop? A few of the nearby stores were broken into the other night, and I’m worried about ours.”

  “I guess.” Valx grabbed the shop key from the counter by the kitchen doorway and started for the front door.

  “Wait, son.” Amikah stopped Valx and handed him the apple. “Enjoy your day with your friends.”

  Valx nodded and stepped outside. His house sat up the road from the nearby harbor in an area called the Fishermen’s District, although less than half of the families in the district worked in the local fishing industry. Most of the families in the district, like Amikah, owned shops in Tunra’s marketplace, which was famed in the Western Kingdom.

  Across the road from Valx’s house, Sal Isluun tended her garden with help from her seven-year-old son, Touyu. The boy’s round face showed a smile as he ripped weeds from the ground. Valx moved onto the brick road and waved to his neighbors.

  “Hi, Wight!” Sal said, calling Valx his nickname since childhood. Touyu waved and then pulled up a weed with both hands. Valx waved and continued down the road. He took two bites from the apple before tossing it into a ditch.

  Valx traveled east past Tunra Tower. The three-hundred-year-old tower stood sturdy, although some walls had been rebuilt from centuries of storms and assaults. The bottom floor included the town courtroom. The Tunra Council, who worked for the king himself, met on the second floor. Two bells hung at the top of the tower. The smaller bell had a high-pitched tone and rang during times of celebration. The older bell would ring to warn citizens of an attack, but Valx had never heard its sound. The city gallows sat beyond the tower before the hillside that separated the Market District from the Farmers’ District on the northern side of Tunra.

  Valx arrived at the marketplace and began his journey through the crowds. He followed back alleys and roundabout paths to avoid the masses of buyers, sellers, traders, caravans, beggars, and street performers that crowded the expansive market. He entered a passage between two rival metalsmiths, climbed over a short wall, and dropped to the other side where small stands lined a narrow street between larger buildings. Local kids hopped the wall while they chased each other around the market, and even though Valx was too old for childish games, the path saved him time.

  “Beautiful day isn’t it, Wight?” greeted Kulo Yorner, who owned a stand by the wall. The scrawny, gray-haired man had located his stand there after the previous stand owner became annoyed with kids interrupting his business and sometimes knocking over tables. Kulo didn’t mind the kids and often gave them treats.

  “It certainly is,” Valx replied. “Good luck with your sells today, Mr. Yorner. Don’t let the kids around here cause you too much trouble.”

  Valx took another alley and arrived in a large area filled with small shops. The Lionhead Fountain stood in the center of the district. Water poured from the mouths of the silver-gray lion heads, carved from sparkling glistenstone, and into the pool below. A juggler balanced on the ledge by the rustling pool and tossed six balls through the air. Flutists played music on a rug by the fountain, and a wyrgen with untrimmed fur strung sad notes on his lute and sang a tragic love song with his wolfish voice. On the other side of the fountain, a raggedy jester tried to make pedestrians laugh with various tricks and jokes.

  “Why hello, my liege,” the jester called to Valx. The scruffy joker stood by the fountain every day and often slept at its base at night.

  “Hello there, funnyman,” Valx said. The white-haired young man didn’t know the jester’s name but often gave him copper pieces. One time when Valx was furious from being cheated in a trade, the jester had managed to calm him and make him laugh. Valx had given him a nickel piece that day, and ever since, the jester referred to him as his liege or sire.

  Most of the small, family-owned shops sat past the fountain. People approached windows of the shacks to buy or trade goods over the counter. Amikah’s shop sat just beyond sight of the fountain. The window was closed over with a board that lifted and locked from the inside, and a door allowed entrance from the opposite side.

  A cat sat on top of Amikah’s shack. The gray and white stray had appeared a few years before and prowled around the Market District for scraps, but it had chosen Amikah’s shop as her favorite perch. Valx sometimes tossed her leftovers, but mostly, the cat annoyed him.

  “Get off the damn roof,” he commanded, waving his arms to scare her.

  She watched him with old, gray eyes.

  Valx sighed and headed around to the door. He rattled the handle and found it locked. Then he went back to the front and tried to lift the board over the window, but it was locked in place. “Good enough for me,” Valx said. He eyed the cat. “Stay up there and starve to death then,” he told her. The cat mewed, but Valx ignored her.

  The young man went east to the end of the city opposite of the harbor. After half an hour, he reached a road going out of Tunra. Valx stepped off the path, approached a dirt incline, and marched up the slope. Valx slipped early on and slid several feet down to the bottom and later stopped at a steep point to figure out the best angle of approach to avoid another setback. Finally, he reached the top and faced the edge of Grimwood. Valx turned and looked at the city. Much of Tunra was visible at the top of the slope. The market and the tower were most noticeable. The harbor could be seen, and ships appeared as specks from his viewpoint. To Valx’s right, he could see patches of farmland to the north.

  Two people, a male wyrgen and a young woman, approached the bottom of the incline and ascended. The wyrgen scaled the slope in one smooth motion. His slouched body scaled the hill faster than a human was capable as his shoeless feet and clawed hands dragged him to the top. A toothy grin appeared across his wolf-like face when he saw Valx.

  The wyrgen dusted the dirt from his gray and black-striped fur, and he picked a piece of grass from his shirtless chest. “You’re late, Valx,” he said. “Ros’se and I just left to look for you when we saw you climbing the hill.”

  “Sorry Xulthen,” Valx replied. “I overslept.”

  The young woman followed close behind Xulthen. She stomped forward where Valx had faltered as she climbed the slope. Her skinny but toned arms, exposed because she had cut the sleeves from her blouse, pulled her to the top with ease. The young woman used her thumb to brush messy crimson hair away from her light-green eyes. “I started to think you got scared,” Ros’se Balr teased.

  “I’m not scared, Roz,” Valx said. “A bit anxious, sure, but not scared. Everyone says it’s dangerous in Grimwood.”

  “Luckily, you have me as your friend,” Xulthen told him. “I’ve been near the deepest parts of the forest.”

  “Your pack members know what parts of Grimwood to avoid, though,” Valx said.

  “I’ve led a few successful hunts in there,” Xulthen responded. “I know these woods well enough.”

  “I’m coming too,” Roz said.

  “Weren’t you going to see us off and then head back to your parents?” Valx questioned. “They’re leaving in a few days. You should spend time with them.”

  “They left this morning,” Roz explained. “Their caravan got their shipments from the Bay Nation earlier than expected, and they decided to leave early. They’re going to the Wetland Nation and then probably the Eastern Kingdom. I doubt I’ll see them again until next year.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” Valx said.

  “I don’t really care,” she replied, shrugging. “I’m used to it. Su and the orphans feel more like my family. At least my dad gave me a little money this time. But it’s no more than Su gives me from two months of working for her at the orphanage.”