The Blood Blade

By M. L. Reighven

Dreagen the Blood Chronicles

When the prophecies of the ancient ones invade the reality of the modern world, a young woman is thrust headlong into her destiny.

Gabi always considered herself a plain Jane, but levelheaded and very grounded until her dream job opportunity brought her to the Scottish Highlands on the cliffs of Bengill. Dunn Reagan Castle rose above the cliffs like a great stone giant, dreadful and menacing in all its rugged beauty. Little did Gabi know this stone fortress would hold the key to unlock her fate, written in the stars.

Prophecy of Roddin Sax--through the heart of the Royal, blood becomes stone, stone becomes blade, blade rewrites destiny.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Nov 3, 2022
• ISBN: 9781662404818

Book preview

Chapter 1

The Nightmare

The rhythm of the clock kept time with her own beating heart. Her pulse rang in her ears like the clanging of symbols. Her breathing began to quicken with anticipation of what was to come. The all-too-familiar burning pangs of pain threaded their way through the scarred flesh of her chest. The darkness of the night began to spin as the veil between the dream world and reality fell away, and the nightmare began.

It was colder than she had ever been! Dark and cold, like she imagined death or being buried alive would be. A storm raged about her like a great battle in an epic war. The rumble of thunder made a sound like that of a thousand horse hooves striking the earth with one great blow. There was water all around her—not a small body of water but a large one like that of the sea. The spray of the water burned her face, and the salt stung her eyes. Wiping the salt scales from her eyes, she tried to focus. Dragging her sleeve across her face, she removed the last remnants of salt and mist which clouded her vision. She could just make out five or six large blazes of light not too far from where she stood. Her eyes came to full focus. The lights were fires no less than ten feet high which the rains were unable to extinguish. As she peered into the storm, lightning illuminated the scene before her.

The sea was in great turmoil. Wave after wave came crashing toward her. She was standing in the water just off the shore but was unable to move her legs. She could only watch as the great sea did battle with the rocks and sand of the shoreline. The light from the fires and the constant fingers of lightning revealed a backdrop of mountains in the distance. The jagged peaks rose like giant soldiers standing guard.

Shadows began to appear and then took shape before her eyes. They appeared to be more beast than man. They had eyes black as coal, hollow and sunken in dark foreboding faces. Their lips curled back in a snarl to reveal mouths full of gnashed teeth that seemed better fit for a great white shark than a human. Their bodies were a little hunched with spiked ridges running down their spines. They had flesh that somewhat hung on them like a poorly fitted suit, tattered, leathery, and wrinkled from far too long of wear. Who were these creatures of the night? What did they want with her?

Fear began to grip her, tightening around her like a noose, making it almost impossible to breathe or scream. To scream was exactly what she wanted to do. The foreboding feeling robbed her of thought as her voice caught in her throat. Franticly, she searched for a way out, when, through the storm came a voice, soft and gentle like the coo of a dove. It enveloped her like a warm blanket, piercing the darkness like the point of a knife. These harbingers of death heard it too and retreated from her. She looked around for the source of the voice. She needed to find her safe haven.

Out of the gale, eyes peered at her, illuminated by the lights of the fires. They were eyes so blue they could almost be mistaken for sapphires. Such anguish, such sorrow in them, and something else. Something she had only seen shinning back at her from her own mother’s eyes, love, deep, and unwavering.

Who was this woman? What was it in her voice that could calm her every fear and keep the evil at bay?

The woman was young, with long and soft wavy hair that framed her face like a halo and was the color of sunrise, all ablaze from the firelight. She was slight of build but not tiny, having defined muscles showing through her water-soaked gown on her arms and upper torso. The young woman’s face looked like that of an angel except for the sadness about it. She sensed a great strength about the woman, one that goes beyond the physical. Looking more closely, she could see the young woman was bound at the hands and chained to a large plank of wood that had been driven into the seabed just off the shoreline in the water. The sea thrashed about her without mercy, driving at her with each wave. She faced this unrelenting foe without fear.

Lightning flashed across the sky, lighting up the shoreline again. There were people standing there as if waiting for something. It was strange that she hadn’t noticed them before. She tried to yell for help, but her screams went unanswered.

Help! Someone please, help her! What is wrong with you people? She is going to drown! Can’t you see that? she screamed into the night, but still to no avail.

In the distance came a frantic whisper on the wind: Aaleona, Aaleona!

Looking back to the woman, her eyes grew wide as the water from the sea swept over the young woman’s head. Where did she go? The unrelenting sea had taken her. She couldn’t find her, and the darkness began to close in around her again.

Thunder rumbled so loud it vibrated deep within her very soul. She opened her eyes to a flash, so bright it was as if she were gazing into the heart of the sun! Then pain, so much pain. It was as if every nerve ending in her body was on fire. She felt as if something was being thrust straight through her chest!

She heard a scream in the distance, or was it right in her own ear? Yes, she heard her own voice. Sitting straight up in bed, Gabriella grabbed her chest as another scream escaped her lips.

She was covered in sweat, holding her chest where her scar was. She tried to catch her breath as she fought to clear her mind. Pulling her pajama shirt down, she beheld a frightening sight. The starburst scar which laying there glowed red for a moment and then faded back to the color of her flesh. Flashes of images faded as she began to regain some semblance of reality. Licking her lips, she tasted the lingering hint of salt there. The smell of a storm and sea hung heavy in the air. She shook her head to clear it as the last remnants of the dream vanished like a ghost. She looked around her room. Okay, Gabi, get a grip, she thought as she scanned her bedroom. She repeated to herself, Windows, walls, bed, armoire, and sax. Yup, I’m home. Safe.

Only a dream, she said into the darkness, trying to convince herself that it was (only) a dream. It always felt so real. Every smell, taste, and sound told her senses she was there, standing right there, in that freezing water with that tragic woman. She was experiencing everything the young woman felt. Each time this nightmare invaded her mind, she always had the same reaction. Today was different. The pain of the scar was the same, but she had never seen the glow before. Had she really seen it, or was it just her overactive imagination?

You’re being ridiculous, she scolded herself and turned her thoughts to the young woman.

Recalling her face, Gabi tried to put a name to the young woman.

Those eyes. I have never seen such eyes, she thought. Those eyes were so remarkable. Gabi was certain she never would have forgotten them.

So if I don’t know her, then why does this feel like a memory of the past? she asked herself.

She looked over at the clock. It’s 3:03 a.m. Damn, I have to be up in three hours, she complained to no one but her own thoughts.

She laid her head back down and attempted to go back to sleep. Her mind continued to race, denying her the sleep she so desperately wanted.

This tragic young woman consistently invaded her dreams. Gabriella tossed and turned for several more hours, but sleep evaded her.

This is crazy. It means nothing. It’s the same dream I always had, so why am I still awake?

Damn! she said to the early morning air with great frustration. She rolled out of bed at five thirty in the morning. Well, looks like sleep is not going to happen. Might as well get up and shower, damn, she thought as she kicked the covers back and threw her legs over the side of the bed.

The shower felt so good to her. As the hot water poured over her smooth skin, she could feel every muscle in her body relax. It felt as if she had just completed in an Ironman race. Taking a deep breath and enjoying the heat, she began the task of washing her long hair. The nightmare had really taken its toll on her long unbound hair. She always preferred to sleep with her hair loose; knots were a constant. She as somewhat regretting this habit now as it took conditioning her hair twice to remove all the tangles. After successfully washing and removing all the snarls the rough night had produced, she began with the rest of herself.

Today calls for my favorite jasmine vanilla sugar scrub, she said, unconsciously looking about her due to the habit of speaking her thoughts aloud. It was something her parents tried but failed to discourage her from. She nervously laughed at herself, another trait she was discouraged from. She shrugged her shoulders. Some things never change. Sorry, Mom and Dad. Returning her focus to the task at hand, she continued her shower.

Taking a fingertip full of the fragrant scrub, she began with her arms, then legs, and finally the rest of her body. She stopped at the scar on the left side of her chest. It was a mystery as to what had caused it. This mark had been a part of her for as long as she could remember. It was not ugly like some of her childhood scars, like the gash on her shin from wrecking her bike at ten or the stiches on her right wrist from falling out of the tree house at thirteen.

Not the most graceful of children. She sighed.

No, this scar was different. It was in the shape of a starburst, quite remarkable in its shape and design. It also burned and caused her great pain when she entered her dreams. The nightmare always intensified this pain, and this morning, it glowed—the new adaptation she hoped would not be a permanent fixture. Shaking off her thoughts, she began to rinse off the sugar scrub.

One last minute and I will get out, she murmured, enjoying the last of the hot water. Turning off the water, she reached for the towel. Stepping out of the shower and looking around the bathroom, she sighed. Oops, forgot to turn the exhaust fan on again. The bathroom was full of steam. Oh well, she thought and opened the door to let the steam out. Wrapping the towel around her, she stepped over to the mirror, wiping the mist off. She peered at herself. Something was different, she thought.

My eyes look a bit different.

The unremarkable blue eyes she was born with now contained tiny sparks of violet.

Not enough sleep, bad lighting, and pressure over trying to land this job. That’s all it is, she convinced herself, and her thoughts returned to the job.

I have to bring my A game if I’m going to get the antiquities position, she thought. With that in mind, she continued to get ready to go. Her hair was now dry and a little wavier than usual—well, waiver than it had ever been. She looked a little closer, and her hair seemed to contain icy white-blond streaks in it. Her hair had always been a drab blond and very straight.

This new shampoo is really doing the trick. Lots of volume and glow. She admired. One last glance in the mirror and she was satisfied with her reflection. Going over to the closet, she began to pick out the perfect outfit for this very important day.

"It has to speak of professionalism, but not too stuffy. Classic glamor with a hint of Vogue." She smiled.

The charcoal gray pinstripe suit was the winner. The skirt was long. It hit just above the ankles. It was a mermaid cut, fitted to the knees, with five buttons off center to the left. The jacket was short and hit just at the waist, cut very slim with small pleats on the bottom at the back. It was paired with a pale pink silk shirt which was cut a little low.

Well, it shows the girls off to their best advantage. She admired.

If you’ve got them, proudly show them! She slyly smiled. It was a little dirty trick she knew, but this was a man’s world, and she needed every advantage. This was a quote her best friend, Constance, always used. Or Remi, as Gabi called her, for she had the most beautiful and unusual middle name—Remay, the female version of her father’s name, Rime. Wow, did she miss her. She thought back on how they had met; it seemed so long ago.

Gabriella had only been attending Yale University for a semester when the tragedy of her parents’ death had happened. She had received the phone call late on a Friday evening just after returning from Christmas break. Her mother and father had died in a fire which had consumed the entire house and most of the garage. There had only been ashes to bury. The fire investigators had ruled it accidental, Christmas lights being the cause. The fire had burned so hot the firemen on scene could only keep the fire from spreading to the rest of the neighborhood.

Life had completely changed for Gabi after losing her only family. Her grades began to fall, and she had even considered leaving Yale.

I can’t even remember why I’m here, she had thought.

Yale had been her parents’ alma mater, and it had been their dream for her to follow in their footsteps. Her parents were her whole world. They were so loving, caring, and so thankful for Gabi. She was their miracle child. They had tried many years to have children, but these precious gifts had eluded them, until she was born. By the time she had left for Yale, her mother was sixty and her father sixty-two. Gabi had been a very late-in-life child for them. She had always taken it upon herself to follow her parents’ wishes. She had always felt she was responsible for carrying on the family tradition. It was a great burden for which she gladly carried without complaint.

Remi had been her saving grace, a light in the darkness. Anna-Marie had been the other. Anna-Marie had helped Remi three years ago when she lost both her parents in a tragic plane crash. From then on, they were more like friends than student and counselor.

Gabi had begun to make plans to leave Yale when her student counselor, Anna-Marie Janae, called her in for a short talk. Anna-Marie had tried to help her through this tragedy. She had asked Gabi to remain at Yale for one more semester and not to give up on her dreams.

My dear child, I know life feels as if it is over, but you are so young, and I see such greatness in you, cher, she spoke softly.

Anna-Marie had the most beautiful New Orleans accent. She was Creole, a lovey mocha-skinned beauty with great wisdom and compassion.

Cher, I have someone I would like for you to meet. Will you come with me? she asked.

I don’t know if I would be good company right now, Mrs. Janae, Gabi whispered.

Oh, now, child. Haven’t I asked you to call me Anna-Marie? Mrs. Janae is so impersonal. She smiled.

Sorry, Anna-Marie. Slip of the tongue, she replied.

Oh, that’s all right, child. Now Constance won’t mind your company. Can you be ready in an hour? she asked.

Yes, but where are we going? she wondered out loud.

Not far, cher. Not far, Anna-Marie replied. Now meet me back here in an hour, she ordered. Gabi left Anna-Marie’s office feeling a bit dazed and a little confused.

She didn’t even remember the walk back to her dorm room. The next thing she knew, she had changed, brushed her hair, and was headed back to Anna-Marie’s office, where she was waiting for her.

Come, cher. It’s only a short walk, Anna-Marie said.

They arrived at the training facility just a bit down the road from Anna-Marie’s office. Gabi had never been to this part of the campus. She had never considered herself very athletic. She was more of a bookworm, actually.

The training facility looked more like a museum. Beautifully carved hardwood pillars lined the room. There were classic Victorian paintings on the walls and marble tile on the floors. What appeared to be every sword known to man were displayed in glass cases littered about the room. This is a training facility, she thought and nervously laughed under her breath.

Wow, this is an amazing room! Gabi gushed.

I thought you would appreciate it, cher. Anna-Marie smiled.

They took seats just beyond the arena floor. The chairs were high-back, carved claw-foot, and upholstered. Ha! And these were bleachers. What kind of sporting event would be played here among all this beauty? The room was large enough to seat two hundred people. The floors slanted from the bottom and elevated up the walls so that every seat in the room offered a wonderful view. She remembered her mother telling her not to play inside for fear of breaking something; this felt just like that. She seemed to be the only one among the crowd to feel this way. Everyone else was at ease, awaiting the event. The feeling in the room became electric with energy as a single trumpet sounded and the crowed lunged to their feet. Gabi and Anna-Marie followed suit. Suddenly, to the cheers and standing salute from the crowd, the opponents entered the room with heads held high, shoulders back, and a gleam in their eyes. Was it confidence or arrogance Gabi witnessed? She wasn’t sure, but she liked it.

They were all dressed in white suits, large mesh-covered hoods under one arm, and long swords in the other. The opponents walked to the center of the arena, placing their mesh helmets on the floor in front of them. They waited for the crowd to become silent. She had never seen anything like this before. Turning toward Anna-Marie, she asked, What is this?

This is a fencing match, cher, she whispered to Gabi.

Turning back to the arena, she stared in disbelief. All were men but for three women! For Gabi, being raised by humanitarian philanthropists, fighting was simply out of the question! She had been taught to value mankind and knowledge above all else. To solve her problems peacefully, this had been the hardest lesson for her to learn. A fighter’s spirit had always burned deep inside her, but she kept it hidden for love of her parents.

A knowing smile crossed Anna-Marie’s lips. This was what Gabi needed to unlock the secret strength hidden deep within her—the power we all had deep in our very being which helps us all overcome loss, pain, and even death.

With everyone in the room now standing and silent, all the fencers standing ramrod straight in the middle of the floor, the American flag was lowered from the ceiling. All the athletes drew their swords in their right hands, legs together, and left arms straight by their side, placing their sword and hand over their hearts as the national anthem began. The crowd followed suit. When the national anthem had concluded, the crowd was seated. The athletes were again the center of attention. They had not moved, waiting instead for the entire room to be seated and silent. Gabi’s heart was beating out of her chest. Eyes wide, not wanting to miss a single moment, she watched and waited.

The athletes, with their bodies straight as an arrow, brought their swords from their hearts to their heads. The handle, with thumb pressed to the forehead, they all looked straight ahead. They remained like this for what seemed to Gabi as an hour. In reality, it had only been thirty seconds, but the anticipation was overwhelming for her. The athletes moved as one, stepping their left legs to the side so that they all stood in a straddle position. They all then brought their left arms behind their backs, heads falling back and swords straight up to the carved wood ceilings. They remained this way for another thirty seconds. The last movement, wow, again they all moved as one. Legs were brought back together with a swift click of the heels. The left arm was brought back to the left side in attention. Their heads dropped so the eyes were looking to the floor, and the swords sliced the air and came to rest with the tip touching the floor. This last movement brought a gasp and then a cheer from the crowd. Still the athletes remained this way for another thirty seconds to the increasing cheers of the crowd. Like statues, they stood, not even blinking. This brought the crowd to their feet in a cheer which resembled a roar! Moving as one again, they came to attention and then walked to their awaiting chairs, eyes straight ahead as if not even hearing the cheering crowds. Once they were seated, the crowd grew silent again and seated themselves.

Gabi was breathing heavy now, waiting for the matches to begin.

If this was just the opening ceremonies, what will the matches be like? she wondered to herself.

As the matches began, Anna-Marie watched the look of fear etched upon Gabi’s face soon turn to delight. She was on the edge of her chair, knuckles white from gripping the armrests, a smile on her face which Anna-Marie was certain couldn’t be removed with a hammer and chisel. The first two matches were over so quickly, Gabi hardly knew they had begun. For the third match, the duelers were evenly balanced.

En garde! echoed through the air as the match began.

What are the moves they are doing called? Gabi whispered to Anna-Marie.

That one there is called a lunge, and that one is called a parry. Did you see that? He just scored a point with a touch, and it was riposted or answered back by another touch. The one there is on the attack. He just disengaged the other! As she spoke, the opponent’s foil dropped to the floor. Turning her full attention to Anna-Marie, she cocked her head to the side in a questioning look.

Yes, cher. Disengaged means just that. He circled the other man’s foil with his own, forcing him to drop it. Not many are able to do that. It’s very impressive.

Arret! resounded in the air.

The director or the head judge just said stop. The bout is over. Anna-Marie offered the explanation before Gabi could ask the question.

The winner scored fifteen points and the loser twelve. In fencing, this is called a conversation, and these bouts only last three minutes.

Conversation? A very polite word for what could be an extremely deadly game without all their protective gear.

So true, cher. So true, Anna-Marie agreed.

She was nearly off the end of her chair when the last bout of the evening began. The opponents looked unevenly matched. One was a large well-built man with blond hair, blue eyes, and a chiseled jawline. Very handsome, she thought. The other was a young woman, slim of build, standing no more than five feet two inches tall. Her hair was short to the shoulders, jet-black but for the several dark-purple streaks in it. Gabi watched her walk into the center of the room as if she owned