Grasping Shadows

By Bradley Counter

Having finally managed to claw his way back to The World of Light, Orlon Rin awakens to find himself being tended to by a timid girl that is much more than she seems. While trying to determine what to do about his injuries, a long-forgotten enemy from his past returns to plague him and force a confrontation. Worlds away in The Nightlands, Temin yearns to continue his quest to save his mysterious savior, The Faceless, but must set it aside due to his crippling injury. Aided by the fierce warrior Seed, he instead takes a gamble and heads toward Aurastur, one of the demon princes, who holds both the power to heal him and the power to destroy him.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bradley Counter
• Release date: Dec 20, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310797002

Bradley Counter

I am a loving husband and the father of three wonderful children. Reading and writing have always been interests of mine. Since before I can remember, I've been crafting worlds and creating interesting(and sometimes quite colorful) characters as well as delving into the minds of other authors through the amazing books they write. I sincerely hope that you all have as much fun reading about the worlds I've created as I did creating them.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Flickers of light passed before his eyes. Blurry, half-seen images flared to life and took shape all around. A man stood before him: short, spikey black hair crowned a face that seemed oddly familiar though he knew that he’d never seen it.

You must be Orlon Rin, the man called to him in a voice that was effortlessly sarcastic yet subtly charming. My name is Ashtos Entorah, and I have travelled a great distance to meet you.

Ashtos wore a long, sapphire coat that draped down nearly to his ankles. Numerous buckles held the coat together across the man’s narrow yet powerful frame and a tall collar at the top hid his neck and the tip of his chin. Both sleeves had been torn from the coat at the shoulder, and, in their place, the man’s arms were tightly wound in white linen bandages that trailed the full length of his arms down to his fingertips. A smug, cocky look adorned Ashtos’s youthful face as if he believed himself superior to everyone and everything.

Orlon raised his head in the direction of the strangely-clad man. The action was unnecessary as his blind eyes were incapable of seeing Ashtos, but he made the gesture out of habit and respect.

Why would you travel to see me? Orlon asked.

Because we share the same pain, you and I, Ashtos explained. The stories about you are true after all: you are indeed blind.

Orlon scowled at the rude comment; his brow furrowing beneath the heavy, black blindfold that he wore over his eyes. He absentmindedly turned his blind gaze downward for a moment and strands of his long, golden hair fell across his face.

That’s not quite the way that most would choose to introduce themselves, Orlon said as his face relaxed back to its usual, stoic expression.

Yeah, well, none of them are me, Ashtos replied with a sarcastic smirk. Besides, if you couldn’t tell, my arms were ruined in much the same way as your eyes.

A closer look at Ashtos’s arms revealed that they were completely unmoving. Most people made gestures with their arms and hands as they spoke, but the bandage-wrapped limbs of the man before him had not even twitched since he had arrived. They hung limp and useless at his sides as if sculpted entirely of lead.

And what exactly happened to your arms that makes you think we share so much in common? Orlon asked in curiosity.

I destroyed them with my lightwielder power, Ashtos bluntly replied.

Orlon could feel the color drain from his face; Ashtos’s unexpected admission hit him like a fist. He swallowed hard against a lump that had suddenly formed in his throat.

I guess that I should’ve mentioned that I’m a master lightwielder just like you, Ashtos continued. And if the stories are true, we became master lightwielders in the same way.

So, your gift was activated in the heat of battle as well?

Yes, Ashtos replied. My gift killed my adversary in an instant, cemented my status as a master lightwielder, and left me without the use of my arms.

I’m sorry to hear that, Orlon said sympathetically, but I don’t understand what you would want from me? I am no healer, nor can I do anything to help you.

I want you to join me, and the others like us, in our mission.

What others? What kind of mission are you talking about?

I thought it would’ve been obvious, Ashtos sarcastically replied as he turned his face from Orlon’s and closed his eyes. A moment later, the hard, gray eyes burst open and bore into Orlon even though Ashtos’s face was still turned slightly away. The others are all lightwielders like us, master lightwielders whose gifts have left them broken or crippled. The goddess betrayed us all and so I’ve made it my mission to gather all those like us and denounce Anedae!

You’re insane! Orlon said as he prepared his body for combat.

"I am what she made me!"

Images flashed by their bodies colliding and clashing at impossible speeds as if the universe around them had sped up uncontrollably. A barrage of noise accompanied the chaotic blur of motion; grunts, cries of rage, and the sound of forceful collisions.

Never, Orlon’s voice stated from the incomprehensible blur of motion. I would never betray her!

All at once, the world returned to normal speed. The previously blurred whirlwind of images snapped back into crystalline clarity. He saw himself standing over a battered, bloody Ashtos.

I will spare you this once, because it is not in me to take the life of another human, he told Ashtos. Leave this place and never return.

It’s only a matter of time, Orlon Rin, until your blind faith in Anedae causes you much more pain. You have so much more to lose than just your sight.

Ashtos slowly pushed himself back to his feet; his arms moving in small, twitchy movements that seemed wholly unnatural. As the warrior regained his footing, his gaze fell upon Orlon.

At 6 feet tall, Orlon was a few inches taller than Ashtos, but the difference in their height didn’t seem to matter to the battered renegade. Despite their difference in size and the fact that he’d just been beaten, Ashtos continued to glare at Orlon with a smug, cocky look on his face.

Our paths will cross again, Orlon Rin. When the price of your faith proves to be too much, then maybe you’ll finally join me.

That will never happen, Orlon assured him.

Or perhaps it will happen sooner than you think.

Orlon could feel Ashtos’s gray eyes boring into him. Despite his blindness, he could see the overwhelming arrogance on the renegade’s face.

This is wrong; all wrong. I must be dreaming.

Orlon forced himself to awaken from the strange dream immediately. He sat up and gazed around with his pseudo-sight. Sending his essence out into the area around him in short pulses, he was able to see his surroundings.

He ignored everything else around while he searched for any sign of Ashtos. The warrior’s hard, gray gaze from the last moments of the dream haunted him.

What was that just now? Why would I be dreaming of Ashtos, and, more importantly, why is it different from what really happened? When I met Ashtos, I’d already been blind for over a century, so why was I able to see him in my dream? I would dismiss it as just my imagination, but I can feel in my gut that that really is what Ashtos looks like. What could it mean?

Trying to distract himself from the bizarre dream of his past, Orlon focused on his immediate surroundings. The various forms that he’d overlooked before began to take shape, and he quickly forgot his frantic search for Ashtos, the rogue lightwielder from his past.

CHAPTER 1

A blanket of soft, plush fabric covered his legs and bunched up around his bare waist. Confused, Orlon sat on a downy bed covered by a slick, clean sheet.

Uncertain of where he was, he carefully took in his surroundings. The bed on which he sat was tucked between a pair of tall, hand-carved dressers at one end of a long, high room. After a moment, he realized that the room was actually the interior of a small cottage.

What’s going on? How did I get here?

On the other end of the cottage, by a large stone fireplace, stood a person. Though his eyes were blind, his pseudo-sight allowed him to view the essence of any living thing within several dozen feet of him regardless of what stood between him and the essence’s source. Weak and mortal, the essence was barely visible and he couldn’t tell whether it belonged to a man or a woman.

Who is that?

Orlon thought back to his three-week-long struggle to climb up out of Fellwater Valley. He remembered making it to the top of the cliff before collapsing from exhaustion. He recalled glimpsing an immensely powerful essence as his consciousness faded; a woman’s essence.

Was that really Anedae that saved me?

Oh, so you’re finally awake? called a sweet, feminine voice from across the cottage.

Orlon immediately realized that the speaker and the essence that he could see were one and the same. The speaker abruptly stepped away from the fireplace and moved toward him. As he watched the dim silhouette move toward him, watched the sway of hip and lightness of step, he knew immediately that he was looking at a woman.

You were asleep for the better part of a day, she explained in a sweet, timid voice.

What is this place? Orlon asked in confusion. How did I get here?

I brought you here after I found you outside, the woman explained. This is my cottage, my home.

How would I have ended up outside of this girl’s home? The powerful essence that I saw before, did that person bring me here? If so, then why? Why leave me here with this woman?

I’m sorry about your clothes, but they were so tattered and filthy that I had to remove them in order to properly wash and mend them.

Orlon suddenly realized that under the blanket bunched at his waist, he wore nothing but a loincloth. He momentarily felt his face flush with embarrassment.

It’s been a lifetime, longer even, since a woman has seen me like this. I purposely avoided this kind of thing back at the temple… the temple!

A wave of panic rolled through him as he recalled the purpose of his desperate climb out of Fellwater Valley. Like a madman, he tore the blankets from his waist and legs, and he moved his body as if to rise from the bed. A single thought burned in his mind.

I must hurry and warn the temple. They need to know that the demon has returned, and he is stronger than ever.

The girl turned her head from him as he threw off the blanket. Though he could not see the color of her skin, he could tell that she was embarrassed by his nearly naked state. He ignored her shyness and his own timidity; only his mission to warn the others mattered.

Please, she said as he moved to stand. You must remain in bed. Your body is severely injured. You mustn’t push yourself.

As his leg swung free of the bed’s surface, he realized the truth of her words. The sudden action sent waves of agony racing up through him from the shattered ruin of his right knee.

No. What cruelty is this?

He stared down at his leg with his unseeing eyes. The essence of life that churned within him was chaotic and broken around the wound in his leg allowing him to see the damage as no one else could.

Resting here in this cottage has helped replenish my powers, but the physical wounds that I’ve suffered will take much longer to heal. And that doesn’t include my missing hand… that will never mend. But I can’t afford to waste so much time simply sitting here, I must hurry!

Willpower defeating wisdom, he forced himself to stand and immediately regretted it. He cried out in pain as his leg buckled, unable to support his weight, and he toppled sideways.

Something soft caught him, preventing his collapse, and he quickly realized that the girl’s arms were wrapped around his chest holding him aloft. Though her essence was dim and weak, that of a mortal, the arms that held him were soft but unyielding like steel wrapped in velvet.

I tried to warn you, she insisted, her voice wrought with concern. You need to finish resting and recover your strength.

He watched as her head inclined upward toward his face. An intense heat flooded through him as he realized that her eyes had locked onto his own.

What is this odd sensation?

A dreadful realization shattered the spell that had fallen over him as he became aware that his eyes were no longer covered by the thick blindfold that he always wore. Turning his head, he pushed himself from her arms and fell back onto the soft bed in a seated position.

He winced at the painful twinge that raced up his leg, but he tried to ignore it as he reached up to cover his eyes with his remaining hand.

My clothes, that’s one thing, but without my blindfold… I feel truly naked. She’s seen my eyes: she probably assumes that I’m some kind of monster.

A barrage of emotions welled up within him. A wave of helplessness warred with his stoic confidence and sense of dedication. Self-pity tugged at him to collapse into a state of despair, while his unshakable devotion sought to propel him forward.

A touch, soft and subtle, on the back of his hand caused him to tense up instantly. As the warm sensation spread through him again, however, he quickly relaxed.

Your eyes... why do you hide them? she asked in a quiet, sweet voice. They’re beautiful.

They’re nothing but a painful memory and a constant source of grief.

Is that why you had them hidden behind that heavy cloth when I found you?

He didn’t answer. Words began to form in his mind, but before they could reach his tongue, they seemed inadequate and fell to pieces. He sat in confusion and uncertainty, unsure of what to say; his breathing still slightly erratic. Then, he felt the gentle yet insistent force of her hand drawing his own away from his eyes.

Please, she insisted, you need to rest, but I don’t want you to be afraid.

I’m not afraid for me, he said, finally finding his voice. It is rare for someone to see my eyes and not be overcome by a sense of terror.

Well then, you have nothing to worry about, she said as she once again looked him in the eye. As I said, I think that your eyes are beautiful.

Who are you, girl? Orlon asked in awe of her fearlessness.

He could all but see her smiling as she replied, Myara. My name is Myara.

I wish the circumstances of our meeting were better, but nevertheless, I am pleased to meet you. My name is Orlon Rin.

Orlon Rin? I like that name, it suits you, she said sweetly, but then her voice took on a slightly more stern edge. Now, you need to lie back down and rest. With injuries such as yours, you’ll be bedridden for a while.

I can’t afford to wait for these injuries to heal, he said even as her hand forced him back down onto the bed.

"I don’t see how you have much choice in the matter, Orlon Rin."

They look bad, I know, but I’m an immortal. My wounds will heal much faster than an ordinary person’s would, but even so, I can’t afford to wait. Thousands of lives are hanging in the balance.

I could tell that you were an immortal from the moment that I met you, and as for your claim that thousands of lives are hanging in the balance: this is Fellwater Valley. The threat of death is constant around here.

That’s precisely why I need to go, he said feeling his ire rise. Right now everyone around Fellwater Valley, possibly all of LuCraesia, is in danger. A fiercely powerful demon has somehow been returned to life just on the other side of the bridge, and is likely planning an invasion right now!

How could you know such things? Myara asked softly.

Because I am Orlon Rin, Master Lightwielder, and I was sent to The Nightlands to slay the demon... but I failed.

And yet you survived, she said timidly. How powerful could the demon really be if you managed to escape with injuries such as those?

Very. It had already claimed the lives of three lightwielders before I was sent to slay it. I took my apprentice, Temin, with me to show him what it’s like to truly fight demons. I-I had no idea what I would be up against.

I found only you, there was no evidence of anyone else with you.

You assumed that I escaped, but the truth is I didn’t escape: my life was spared, Orlon explained, his voice heavy with grief. Temin wasn’t so fortunate. He was cut down by the demon without the slightest hint of mercy.

I’m sorry, Myara offered, her voice tinged with sadness. If what you say is true, then it is all the more reason for you to rest before you set out, again.

He began to object, but her hands held him fast. A moment later, he felt the blankets being pulled up over his body.

If you insist on setting out as soon as possible, then I will bind your leg and help you prepare to leave tomorrow. For now, though, you need to rest and recover what strength you can.

I don’t like the idea of simply sitting here, but she’s right: I’m still much too weak to make the trip back to the temple in my current state.

Fine, he said, I’ll wait until tomorrow.

Thank you, she said in a sweet voice that he found soothing.

Without another word, Myara moved away from him. She crossed the cottage and returned to the fireplace. Orlon watched as she slowly stirred something that he couldn’t see. Absentmindedly, he sent out a subtle pulse of his essence illuminating the long, low room, and rendering it visible to his pseudo-sight. Immediately, the kettle before Myara came into view, and he realized that she’d been preparing a meal for the two of them when he’d awakened earlier.

With a deep, silent sigh, he allowed himself to relax down into the bed’s soft, silky surface. A feeling of desperation persisted in his mind, but he forced it aside.

I guess I have no choice but to rest for now and try to regain my strength.

He lay on his back with his right arm propped under his head and the freshly bound, remainder of his left arm resting on his stomach. He focused on the stump where his left hand and wrist should’ve been for a moment, and then diverted his attention away in disgust. He purposely allowed his pseudo-sight to wander over the room at random; focusing on nothing in particular. Other, more important questions arose in his mind.

Who is this girl Myara? How did she find me, or was it that I was brought here to her? What became of the powerful essence that I saw before I collapsed at the top of the cliff?

Though he wanted answers for his many questions, he realized as he thought them that they were not at the heart of his uneasiness. Far more personal questions suddenly crept into his thoughts.

More importantly, how is Myara able to disarm me so easily? I’ve never talked to anyone so readily about my feelings; how is she able to compel me to talk so effortlessly?

The sound of soft footsteps drew his attention. All at once, his pseudo-sight sharpened into focus on Myara’s approaching silhouette. She held a small bowl in her hands as she moved toward him, and he knew that the contents were meant for him.

Here, she said as she reached him. I made some soup for you. It will help you recover your strength.

Thank you.

He grasped the offered bowl as he sat up. A powerful aroma hit him like a physical blow as he moved the bowl in front of him. Instantly, his stomach growled in anticipation and his mouth watered in desire.

Greedily, he sipped at the hearty broth. An explosion of flavor washed over his tongue and he nearly moaned aloud in pleasure. Weeks of starvation had robbed his senses of the pleasures of food, so the simple broth satisfied him as if it were a succulent feast.

Thank you, he repeated between mouthfuls of broth.

You’re welcome, she replied coyly. It’s not often that I am able to entertain guests. Very few visit Fellwater Valley by choice.

If you don’t mind my asking, what are you doing out here? As you said, not many would choose to come here.

I’m not entirely sure myself. I’ve always enjoyed the isolation, but as to what initially drew me here, I can’t say.

Orlon frowned at her explanation, but decided not to press the issue. He knew all too well the desire to be left alone.

Would you like more? Myara asked as he finished downing the small bowl of broth.

I’m not sure my stomach will hold much more, but yes, I’ll take another bowl.

Without a word, Myara gingerly took the bowl from his hand and stood up. As she began to step away from him, a feeling of anxiety washed over him.

What am I doing, really? How can I just sit here and calmly drink broth while danger looms on the horizon?

He watched her move away from him; studied the delicate, feminine shape of her silhouette, but he could not distract himself from his worries. A sense of impending doom gripped him as he lay upon the bed, and his thoughts became muddled.

To his surprise, as Myara reached the kettle, her silhouette vanished and the cottage around him fell away.

CHAPTER 2

Screams cut through the still air and Orlon abruptly turned his head in the direction of their source. He stood in the doorway of an unfamiliar house looking out over a village that was completely unknown to him.

What’s happening?

As he watched, a body flew out from behind one of the houses before him, propelled by inhuman strength. The body immediately hit the side of another house hard enough to crack the wooden exterior, and then slumped to the ground; unmoving.

This is a dream. It has to be a dream: I’ve never been to this village, nor have I ever seen any of this.

Bloody and wounded, a woman staggered out from behind the same house that the previous body had been thrown out from behind. Clutching at her chest and gasping for a breath that she apparently could not draw, the woman collapsed.

No. Even if this is a dream, I cannot stand by and watch this.

Orlon stepped forward as he simultaneously tried to send a wave of enhancement through his body. When nothing happened, he stopped and glanced down in confusion.

What is this? What happened to my body?

As he glanced down, the body that he saw was not his own. The robes that he usually wore were gone and in their place, he wore the loose, ragged garb of a fisherman. A shabby gray tunic was stretched over a rotund belly that was completely alien to him. He moved to touch it and see if it was actually his own, but stopped as he caught sight of his arms. Leathery, weathered skin much darker than his natural tone encased the thick, meaty arms.

Not only do I not have my lightwielder powers, I don’t even have my own body. What kind of dream is this?

Screams continued to drift toward him from the village, and he clenched his teeth in frustration.

I need to do something to help these people, but what can I do? I don’t even know what’s attacking them.

Movement to his right accompanied by a flash of white light drew his attention.