A Sword Between Light And Darkness: The Chronicles Of Aron

By Roberto Donini

Aron, a warrior without memory, find himself overpowered by a mysterious opponent. Saved by the last powers of his legendary sword, he is helped by a family of farmers. Before he can regain his strength, the war struck him and his saviors’. Stripped of his weapon, a journey begins for him between hope and despair, dragons and sorcerers, to search for the origin of his nemesis, and whose final goal will be learning the most important lesson of his life and, at the same time, save the whole realm before chaos overcomes everything.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Babelcube Inc.
• Release date: Dec 20, 2019
• ISBN: 9781547594788

Book preview

Kros

Roberto Donini

Translated by MMG 

A sword between light and darkness

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Written By Roberto Donini

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Copyright © 2019 Roberto Donini

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All rights reserved

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Distributed by Babelcube, Inc.

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www.babelcube.com

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Translated by MMG

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Cover Design © 2019 Roberto Donini

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Babelcube Books and Babelcube are trademarks of Babelcube Inc.

A sword between light and darkness (The Chronicles of Aron) by Roberto Donini

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Table of Contents

A sword between light and darkness (The Chronicles of Aron) by Roberto Donini..................1

Table of Contents...............................................................................................................1

SYNOPSIS.............................................................................................................................1

BIOGRAPHY.........................................................................................................................1

Between life and death.....................................................................................................2

Naril........................................................................................................................................3

A brave attempt..................................................................................................................8

Kanon’s army....................................................................................................................15

Ambush at Dragons’ caves............................................................................................18

Meetings at Oder’s castle..............................................................................................23

At Lanis’ gates..................................................................................................................26

Pursuit in the woods.......................................................................................................29

Aron’s fury..........................................................................................................................33

The White Sword..............................................................................................................35

Misha’s courage...............................................................................................................38

Preparations......................................................................................................................41

Battle in the Valley of Destiny.....................................................................................44

Aron against Kros............................................................................................................49

SYNOPSIS

Aron, a warrior without memory, find himself overpowered by a mysterious opponent. Saved by the last powers of his legendary sword, he is by a family of farmers. Before he can regain his strength, the war struck him and his saviors’. Stripped of his weapon, a journey begins for him between hope and despair, dragons and sorcerers begins, to search for the origin of his nemesis, and whose final goal will be learning the most important lesson of his life and, at the same time, save the whole realm before chaos overcomes everything.

BIOGRAPHY

I was born in 1982 and, growing up with an older sister who introduced me fantasy and sci-fi classics, nurtured this passion of mine, both trough cinema and reading. I am very interested in psychology, general culture and Eastern philosophy books I have been practicing Aikido for years and, in my books, I have united my passion for fantasy to something that I have come to know, and I am still learning about, of Eastern philosophy.

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-Under the high raised sword there is the hell that makes you tremble.

But go on and you’ll find the land of bliss-

(Musashi Miyamoto)

Between life and death

Eclipse had been broken. The tip of the sword stuck in the ground around twenty centimeters away from Aron, and, little by little, the warrior’s hand settled on the soil, in order to avoid for his body, now at end of its strength, to fall down completely powerless. Even though it seemed the time had come for him... And maybe it was not so bad, he thought between himself. What meaning could have the moment he was living in? He couldn’t even remember why he was in that place. The sky was gray, and it should have been around noon. Indeed, the sun had to be in the middle of its path in the sky, just like his life. His own age was unknown to him, but his still young hands, despite being marked by calluses due to the hilt of the sword, and the fervor with which he had fought, made him sense of having recently passed youth.

-Too bad- he thought almost ironically to himself -a little bit of more energy would have been useful to me in this situation-. But was he so sure? He knew by experience, even though his past was made only of resurfacing flashbacks, duels lasted few seconds. An assault, one alive and one dead, he would often remark. And in the past the alive one had always been him. But this time, things were going differently. It felt like he had been fighting against his opponent for eternity and, even this didn’t make sense. If he had really been more skilled than him, how come he didn’t run him through at the first failed attack? He couldn’t explain to himself with his own logic, and yet sensed the reason for all this. It was as if each knew what the other would have done, since forever. And so the duel went on to exhaustion. Neither of them had a scratch. Both knew the first mistake wouldn’t have lead to a simple wound, but death. Nevertheless, again something didn’t add up. He was still alive, but felt like he was already dead... Why had his legendary sword, that nobody had been able to tame, been broken? Who was he who could have done this? Aron lifted his gaze, as if he wanted to, at least, carry out one last act of bravery in his existence, which by now looked like had come to an end, and of which he knew very little. The warrior was before him, his sword raised on his nape, ready to end everything. He stared him in the eyes. His eyes were not dull, like Aron’s ones. They were alive, shining of an evil that no one could ever describe.

-Tell me your name, before you end me-, he begged.

-I am your death, you called me, and I have come to take you. My name is Kros-.

In that moment, clouds showed a glimpse of sky and everything became clearer. Now the lack of light, for that hour, could be explained. The sun was half darkened. Aron was at the end of his strength, and his sight started to become blurry. Yet, he managed to look up again, even higher, where it seemed like the shadows, enveloping who was about to finish him, darkened the sun itself. It was an annular eclipse, and a thought occurred to him. That day, the sun would never be completely obscured. In that same instant, two of Eclipse’s fragments created an abnormal reflection, aiming straight to Kros’ sword, robbing the powerful weapon and the warrior of their powers. The creature panicked and, for a moment, wanted to jump on his opponent, already helpless, to finish him off with his own hands. But then, he realized it wasn’t supposed to go that way, not that time... It was a strange feeling, he couldn’t explain. He sheathed the black sword, which was now useless, and, after letting out an indescribable noise, full of the most savage hatred toward Aron, left running away. The moon began coming out of sun’s circumference and the warrior, overwhelmed by a feeling of impotence, lost consciousness, and collapsed next to the broken sword, that had saved his life.

Eclipse was again untouched, kept as always in its sheath. The sky was clear, and Aron was crossing a completely deserted territory, where it seemed no man had ever gone. The scent of grass filled the air and peace appeared to rule. Walking along a path, he found himself in front of a river, flowing slowly and placidly in the spring air. He didn’t even have to look for a bridge, he only needed to cross the stream where stones, smoothed by relentless flow, could be seen just below the water’ surface. As soon as he had passed the ford, he noticed something that, strangely, had escaped him. The path was forked. On one side, it went on flanking the river for miles and miles, along an easy route, but that looked endless. On the other one, it cut through a forest that seemed to rise on a small hillock, behind which both roads probably rejoined. Why hadn’t he noticed the sudden change of landscape, even before crossing the creek? Little mattered, he felt confident and chose the shortest route. He took off for the woods, ridding his pants of the algae that had stuck to him while crossing the stream. When he was done, raised his gaze and couldn’t believe his own eyes. He was totally enveloped by darkness. He turned back, asking himself how was possible for him to have covered so much distance through those branches without realizing the time gone by. But he didn’t have way to think. He heard some soft and fast steps nearing from his right side. Carefully he observed, ready to prevent any danger, and, when he realized which creature was approaching, a sneer was drawn on his lips. It was a wolf, a simple and lousy wolf, and also rather beaten and mangy at first sight. Strange, usually wolves didn’t attack men, unless they were desperate. -Too bad for you-, he said aloud, -I won’t be thinking about why you decide to end your suffering! -. He stepped back to draw out Eclipse, and regretted a little having to dirty his sword for such a miserable creature. But he had no way of feeling sorry. The sword wouldn’t come out its sheath! He could firmly feel the hilt in his hands, but no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t unsheathe it. He was making such an effort, and realized his arm was starting to feel a stabbing pain. It was as if the sword had its own will, and, for some reason, didn’t want to be drawn out. He noticed he was slow, terribly slow. Each movement required a huge strain, almost like a force field had enveloped him slowing him greatly. The wolf, instead... Well, it was no longer where he though it would be... Its fangs dug in his arm, right where the pain had blossomed while he tried to unsheathe the blade...

Aron realized soon enough that reality was far worse than the dream. The beast was tearing up his arm, and he was totally at its mercy, unable to free himself from its grip. The moon shone high in the sky, as mocking him, like it had come back to witness his death, which had missed only few hours prior. While he tried desperately to wriggle out, dragging himself back, with his left hand he found a stone. He gripped it as firmly as he could and, with all the strength left in his body, hit the animal’s head.

The beast moved back, like it was surprised by its victim’s sudden reaction, having already savored the coppery taste of his blood. The head wound of the animal was not serious, and Aron understood that if he had attacked again he would have not had any possibility of pushing it back. But something unexpected happened. An arrow, thrown by expert hands, struck the beast at the jugular, making it crash on the ground. The warrior started to feel cold and noticed his arm didn’t hurt anymore and the moon was becoming darker...

The sun was setting and the sky had taken a blood-red color, that soon enough changed into an almost gloomy blue. A blast of wind hit him, making him turn. Behind him stood a great forest that looked way too familiar. He fell down on his knees, feeling weaker than usual and stared at the ground, as to ponder. Just where he had set his foot, the two roads rejoined. Understanding of having, finally, surpassed that area, he started to turn around and look what future held for him, but a new gust of wind, stronger than before, sent him flying to the ground.

Naril

Aron saw the darkness enveloping him brightening, and opened his eyes. He found himself laying on a modest bed, and could feel the touch of rough sheets on his cheek. A ray of sunlight filtered through the curtains covering the window, and struck him straight in the eyes. He was about to get up, but he found himself in difficulty when he pivoted on his right arm. He felt a sharp pain and, like lightning, it made him remember what had happened. The forearm was bandaged, tight enough to keep the dressings firm but without stopping the blood flow, and he could smell some kind of disinfectant applied on the wound to stop infection. He tried again, managing, at least, to lift his torso. He looked better at the room where he was. It was probably the storeroom of some farmers’ house, designed at its best to welcome an unexpected guest such as he was; from the walls hung some working tools, old crockery, now unusable, bags to probably contain animal fodder, and... a portrait. It was a familiar face, but he couldn’t remember. Without doubt, he was a character endowed with such strong charisma and sense of responsibility, anyone could feel it from the depth of his gaze that the painter had managed to recreate. But who he was remained a mystery. And he was certainly not the only or the most important one tormenting his confused mind. He braced himself, and finally managed to stand up. He still felt very weak, but he could, at least, walk on his own legs. He stared himself in a mirror, also decorated with a poor frame. So, that was his appearance? Long black hair falling messily on the shoulders, and an unkempt beard at least three-days-old covered his face. The eyes, well, looked familiar. He thought about the last time he had stared at his reflection in a mirror. Not even that, he could remember.  -This is so not my day- said aloud -well, at least I am alive- he concluded. He realized he had been wearing some typical farmer clothes, comfortable pants and a shirt meant only to keep warm and protect from the wind, surely not to appear in the latest fashion. He looked out the window, and as he saw the bell tower of a small church, he heard bells ring. It was a sound with a grandiose feeling, a noble one, just like the face painted in the portrait. A king, that who he was. Not just any king, but the King. The one who had been maintaining peace in the kingdom for years, engaged in endless negotiations with neighboring territories, so that his soldiers would no longer have to fight absurd wars. And he remembered his voice too... Yes, he had known him. -But then, who am I! -. He looked in the mirror, but he didn’t get any answer from his reflection. He noticed a certain resemblance with... -No, that’s not possible! It doesn’t make sense! - He must have thought out loud once again, and someone realized he had regained consciousness. He abruptly turned, and instinctively, brought his hands to his left hip. But the sword was gone. At that moment, a brunette girl appeared at the door, probably the daughter of the house owner. She wasn’t really eye-catching, but yet charming, and her compassionate gaze made him quickly understand she had been the one who had treated him with such care. He looked at his arm, and tried to say something.

-Don’t worry, the infection has been stopped- she revealed.

-Thank you, but where am I? -

-You are in Naril, and this is my father’s house. My name is Misha-

-Thanks... Mine is Aron. -

-They found you few kilometers from here, while a jaguar was attacking you, remember? -

-Yes, I do very well. You saved my life. I’ll honor my debt-

-Don’t worry, you look smart, I am sure you’ll manage. Now I’ll go preparing lunch. When you are up to it, you can come into the other room, so you’ll meet my father. Ah, I almost forgot, he is the one who shot the arrow. -

-Thanks again... Just one thing, Misha. Was there anything close to where you found me? Such as a sword’s shards...-

-Sure, and how could they not notice. My father said it shone of its own light. They approached the placer where you were due to being intrigued by its mysterious glow. I do not know about these things, but I could swear it is one of the legendary magic swords from my childhood’s the fairy tales...-. Aron lowered his gaze.

The girl understood she had been too nosy. -Anyway, it’s in the sack in the corner of the room. Check if you want, but don’t take too long or the soup will get cold-, she finished.

Misha left. Aron looked at the corner and saw a travel bag he had not noticed before. He neared himself and opened it; inside he found his clothes, boots, silver sheath and a piece of rough cloth enveloping something. He opened the bundle and found Eclipse. The sword had been shattered into pieces by the tremendous blow it suffered, but Aron felt it wasn’t dead, at least not completely. Just like him. He closed the sack and headed towards the kitchen.

It was just after noon, and Misha and her father had just sat down at the table, when he entered the room. As soon as Aron