Guardian (The Alfurian Chronicles Book 2) Read online

  Guardian

  Book II of the Alfurian Chronicles

  Aaron Hodges

  Contents

  About the Author

  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

  Epilogue

  Note from the Author

  Warbringer

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Also by Aaron Hodges

  Proofread by Sara Houston

  Illustration by Eva Urbanikova

  Copyright © November 2021 Aaron Hodges.

  First Edition. All Rights Reserved.

  ISBN: 978-0-9951422-68

  About the Author

  Aaron Hodges was born in 1989 in the small town of Whakatane, New Zealand. He studied for five years at the University of Auckland, completing a Bachelors of Science in Biology and Geography, and a Masters of Environmental Engineering. After working as an environmental consultant for two years, he grew tired of office work and decided to quit his job in 2014 and see the world. One year later, he published his first novel - Stormwielder.

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  Prologue

  Serena Levaanton, Alfurian Princess to the city of Goma, strode down the corridor of Light. She enjoyed how it warmed her translucent skin, its energies seeping into her flesh, restoring her strength. It wasn’t quite the same as a proper meal, but it helped to sooth the pain of her recent injuries.

  It also gave her a much needed kick of adrenaline.

  Emerging from the Light, she turned onto one of the regular corridors that ran about the circumference of the Levaanton tower. A great wall of glass offered her a stunning view over the human city. The slums of Goma were far, far below, and partly concealed by the near-constant smog that hung about the rusted rooves and broken brick buildings.

  For just a moment, she wondered at the resilience of the humans that dwelled below. What must it be like, to breathe that poisoned air each and every day? To drink the poisoned waters and consume the flesh of dead creatures…

  Serena shuddered, glad she would never know such misery.

  Still, unlike many of her brethren, she harboured hopes that one day humanity might join the Alfur in their gilded towers. Her father claimed it was too dangerous to expose humanity to so much Light, but Serena was not convinced.

  Though after her encounter last week in the arena, she had to admit, she’d had her doubts.

  A shiver touched her and she reached unconsciously for the wound the human had opened on her arm. Left by the human’s Light, this was no ordinary injury. It resisted the administrations of her father’s healers, so that even a week later, the fiery pain lingered.

  It was healing though. That was more than she’d dared hope a week ago, when she’d lain helpless in the sands of the arena and looked up into the burning eyes of her foe. The human had had every reason to strike her dead. Afterall, she’d shown no such mercy to the gladiators who’d come against her when she’d fought as Rotin. By rights, she should be dead.

  Instead, the human had spared her.

  So much for mindless beasts.

  For Serena, that act had been proof she was right. That humans could be more than mindless beasts.

  That one day they might join the Alfur in the skies.

  If only she might convince her father of that.

  But Aiden Levaanton reminded frustratingly set in his ways. To him, the human’s ascendancy with the Light was proof his every fear had been correct. That the humans were a threat they could not ignore, one that might undo all the works of the Alfur.

  Serena paused in the corridor, coming to a stop outside a pair of finely wrought steel doors. An impossibly complex pattern of looping lines and spirals had been etched into the outside, continuing the patterns spread throughout the Levaanton complex. To those who knew how to read them, they told the story of her ancestors, before they had come to Talamh.

  Before they’d been trapped on the planet surface by the dark workings of the Haze.

  But Serena had no time for history legends this day. Her father and the other princes would already be inside. Her presence was not expected, but as her father’s only child, nor could they easily preclude her.

  Her gaze drifted to the slums beyond the window. To Goma. Fire still burned in the areas close to the arena. For seven days the humans had rioted. Every day since her defeat to the human.

  Her father and the princes had tried to hide it of course, but not even Aiden Levaanton had the power to stay the winds of rumour. The tale had spread through the city like wildfire, until every street was abuzz with the news.

  The true fires had soon followed.

  Serena wondered why they did it. Why a species capable of such wonder would burn their own homes. It certainly wasn’t like the flames would harm the Alfur high in their towers. Yet each night, the humans of Goma would break their curfew and run rampant through the streets, smashing and burning, even killing their own.

  Under other circumstances, she might have thought it a malfunction of their Manus readers. Every human was implanted with one of the devices before adolescence. The Manus readers suppressed their inherent Light, protecting the humans from the deleterious effects of the Haze. What was happening below was very much like what might happen had there been a mass failure of the devices.

  But every diagnostic test run by the Alfurian engineers showed the devices were functioning correctly.

  Which meant the humans were acting of their own volition.

  Serena shivered. Her species had no body hair like humans, and the effect was more of a fully body trembling. She clenched her fist in an effort to control the reaction. It would do no good to appear so disturbed before her father and the other princes.

  The streets below were mostly quiet this morning, absent of the usual bustle of daylight hours. She wondered why the humans left it to the night to do their damage, rather than daylight. With Light itself burning in their veins, the Alfur could see perfectly fine in the night. Perhaps it was just a leftover instinct, a remnant of the beasts from which humanity had evolved…

  Serena shook herself.

  She couldn’t fall into that mindset. Of looking upon humanity as simple animals. It was an easy trap, living as they did so high above their subjects. Those few humans she glimpsed below appeared as ants beyond the glass. No wonder so many of her people had come to view them as inconsequential, insects to be squashed beneath Alfurian boots.

  That needed to change.

  The doors hissed open as Serena stepped towards them, detecting her personal signature in the Manus reader implanted in her palm. It appeared like those of the humans, a metallic cylinder with an orb of crystal in its centre.

  The similarities ended there. Where those of the humans was designed to sypher away Light, hers allowed her to channel the energy that pulsed in her
veins. It granted her incredible abilities, the power to move like death itself, or to heal, whichever she chose.

  Silence fell within the council chambers as she entered. A dozen pale faces turned to watch her approach. The five princes of Talamh sat in their gilded thrones around a circular table. No other heirs were present, but that was not unexpected. While technically invited, the heirs held no power in these chambers.

  Serena was no exception, but she liked to show up on occasion anyway.

  A tension hung in the air as she approached the princes’ table. She held her head high, eyes unbowed before the Alfur who controlled the fate of every being upon Talamh.

  Of the five, one watched her with outright hostility. Darryl Sandoval, prince of the dessert city of Riesor was no friend of humanity—or Serena for that matter. He’d made his opinion on mouthy heirs quite clear on any number of occasions. He was also a warmonger, and hated the humans beneath their cities with a passion that seemed almost personal.

  “Sandoval!” she exclaimed. “I heard a rumour you’d choked on a vial of Light. I’m so glad to find your demise was mostly overstated.”

  A rumble of discontent slid from the eldest prince as he started to his feet. “Insolent child,” he growled, “the day you—”

  But Serena was already moving on to a friendlier face at the table—that of her former compatriot, prince Willis Gardiner, who had only risen to prince in recent years after the death of his father.

  “Willis,” she said, her warmth genuine now. “So good to see you again. How goes things in Boustor?”

  “Cold,” Willis replied. “Though no colder than usual, sadly. Are you sure you do not wish to trade cities?”

  Serena chuckled. “Again, I must politely decline, my prince. The mountain climate does not suit me.”

  Willis grunted. Truth was, the harsh mountains of Boustor didn’t suit any of the Alfur, but someone needed to oversee the mineral rich mines of the region.

  “Daughter,” her father was next around the table. Wearing long flowing robes of emerald silk, he rose at her approach. His face remained carefully free of emotion, but she knew him too well, and could see the anger behind his eyes. Those eyes, a golden yellow rather than the usual Alfurian silver, were the symbol of their royalty—and their power. All those around the table possessed the same golden hue.

  “You are late,” her father continued after a moment’s pause. “This is most improper—”

  “Improper, Father?” she asked, coming to a stop beside his place at the table and adopting her voice to his haughty tone. “Why I thought it improper that you neglected to send my invitation to this meeting.”

  “We thought it wise to allow you to rest after your injuries,” her father replied, the slightest of frowns creasing his brow.

  “I see,” she mused, “and yet, you didn’t think it might be wise to include me in your discussion on how to punish the one who gave me those injuries?

  “That is not what we are here to discuss.”

  “Oh?”

  There was an awkward pause, and Serena allowed herself the slightest of smiles. A smaller chair stood alongside her father’s throne, as one did beside each of the princes, but Serena made no move to take her seat. She allowed her eyes to roam around the circular table instead.

  “Pray, tell me then, what are we here to discuss?” she asked lightly.

  “The riots in your damned city, of course,” Sandoval snapped. “Riots, I’ll remined you, that I predicted would be the result of your antics in the arena.”

  “Did you?” Serena asked sweetly, fluttering her eyes in a distinctly human manner. “I don’t recall…oh! Yes, I do remember something of the sort. Were not your exact words ‘riots before the year is out’?” She looked around the table, eyes lifted in question. “Does anyone know if a prediction still counts when its fifty years out of date?”

  An audible growl came from the chest of Sandoval, but Willis interrupted before the Alfur could scold Serena further:

  “Alfur, Alfur,” he said lightly, raising his hands in a gesture of peace.

  He was lightly built beneath his black robes, and practically scrawny beside the bulk of the Riesoran prince, but Serena had always appreciated his calm words. Even when what was needed was action.

  “Come now,” he continued, “let us show some decorum. Are we not Alfur? Serena, enough with your needling.”

  Serena gave an overly dramatic sigh. “Very well, Willis, you win.” She sank into her tiny chair, though not before she flashed her friend a grin.

  “Seven days the humans have rioted.” A quiet voice spoke from the back. Konad Hassan, Prince of the island city of Mayenken and eldest of the council—of all the Alfur on Talamh, in fact. Such was his age, dark patches had formed on his skin where the Light no longer circulated, giving him a rather mottled look for an Alfur. “Seven days. I recall the last time they rose for such a time.”

  “Exactly!” Darryl Sandoval exclaimed. “Not since the Arrival have we faced such a threat to our people. And all because this…this girl decided to play with fire.”

  “I beg to disagree.” Serena bristled. “The humans resist because you refuse to treat them as equals.”

  “They are beasts, scrounging in the mud for the dregs of our civilisation,” the hulking Riesoran prince said dismissively. “How can the noble eagle align itself with the rats that are its super?”

  “Perhaps when the rats threaten the eagle’s nest,” Malachy Zavala spoke up.

  Serena was surprised to find him speaking on her behalf. She and the Lutryden Prince rarely saw eye to eye—he certainly hadn’t been in support of her venture into the gladiatorial arena. Though none of the council had supported that particular venture—not even Willis.

  But then, that was why she’d done it, wasn’t it? To open their eyes. To show these old Alfur they were no better than the humans. They might sit here in their gilded towers and pretend they were noble, far above the creatures crawling in the mud below. But the truth was their people were capable of just as much blood violence.

  Afterall, the weapons of humanity paled in comparison to those the Alfur had created. What was a sword compared to a Manus reader? A spear to the shock sticks they armed their Enforcers with? A bow, beside the airships and their destructive blasters.

  No, the council might pretend, but she knew the truth.

  Serena had felt it in the arena, in the rush of Light, the pounding of her hearts.

  She might have become Rotin to spite her father.

  But to her great shame, she had continued because she’d enjoyed it.

  “The greatest threat since the Arrival?” Willis spoke up for her, his voice incredulous. “Surely you gest, Sandoval. Back then the humans had access to their Light, and were in the full grips of the Haze. These…disturbances are trivial, surely…”

  “No great gathering of humans may be considered trivial,” Hassan said quietly.

  “By the stars, Gardiner” Sandoval growled. “I mourn the day your father passed from our ranks. At least he understood true threat posed by humanity.”

  “I think we have all had a fair glimpse of that threat,” Zavala chuckled. “Thanks to the antics of our dear Serena. That was quite the performance, I must admit. I really thought the human would kill you.”

  Serena winced at the reminder. Truth be told, so had she. The fury of the Haze had burned in the human’s eyes as he’d stood over her. But only for a moment. Then, inexplicably, it had retreated. Enough that he’d regained control. For how long, no one knew. It wasn’t even supposed to be possible. Better for everyone that her father had exiled him far from the city.

  Better for the Alfur, at least…

  “That mess in the arena is exactly why—”

  “Yes, yes, my daughter should have never been there,” her Father interrupted yet more rambling from Sandoval. “It is done. Now we must decide on a resolution to end the violence in our cities.”

  Serena blinked. “Cities?”
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  “Yes,” Willis said, somewhat guiltily. “It would appear the rumours of your…encounter, have somehow spread.”

  “The merchants,” Malachy Zavala surmised. He pursed his lips in disapproval “There is no such thing is a hard border with their species. Their words spread almost as quickly as their offspring.”

  “We must finally take a firm hand,” Sandoval snapped.

  Tempers were fraying, despite her father’s best efforts. Serena laughed to add fuel to the fire.

  “Is that not what you have tried these past five hundred years?” she asked. “Pray tell, how much further into the mud would you press the poor humans?”

  “A cull.”

  Silence fell around the table as the eldest Alfur spoke. The lighter patches of Hassan’s face dimmed with his words, as though the Light had been drained by the weight of his words. He looked around the table, meeting each of their eyes.

  “Zavala and Sandoval are right,” he continued at last. “The human population has grown too large for Talamh to sustain. Numbers must be culled, to prevent their own destruction—and ours.”

  Serena’s hearts stilled. She could not have heard the old Alfur correctly. There hadn’t been a cull since…well, never in her short hundred years of life. Surely what he said was in jest. Yet as Serena looked around the table, she saw Sandoval nodding his enthusiastic approval and Zavala looking thoughtful. Only her father and Willis had not leapt on the idea—

  “The suggestion has merits,” her father announced.