Akira Rides Read online

  Table of Contents

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  AKIRA RIDES

  AKIRA: BOOK TWO

  Copyright

  Copyright © Robyn Wideman

  Published: Aug 2017

  Publisher: Magicblood Media Corp

  Co-author: Nonie Wideman

  www.robynwideman.com

  PROLOGUE

  Excitement, fear, and sadness thrummed through the novice warrior’s veins. Her icy blue eyes, fringed with sooty black lashes, glanced back over her shoulder. The image of the lifeless body behind her, draped and tied over his horse, etched itself painfully in her memory. Her head, protected by a helm resembling a metal skull adorned with fur pieces, snapped forward quickly, eyes again forward, staring at but not seeing the broad back of the fierce looking warriors riding in front of her. The sound of pounding hooves behind and in front of her filled her ears. The black shadowing under her eyes gave her an exotic, dangerous look, but it left a black streak down one cheek. She wiped her eyes quickly.

  Her dead comrade, her teacher, her mentor, had admired her ability to never cry. She blamed the wind in her eyes for the annoying moisture that threatened to blur her vision. A vile, cowardly, poison arrow from a lone assassin, stopped his huge and brave heart. It beat no more inside his powerful chest. No breath. No warmth. The deadly arrow was meant for me. The thought jolted her back into an acute awareness of her surroundings. Another attack could come at anytime from anywhere. Danger could lurk in the most innocent looking shadows. Her eyes swept left, right, and forwards, like the eyes of her grim-faced companions, sweeping constantly for signs of ambush, signs of another lone assassin.

  Akira’s first taste of witnessed death was bitter. It overshadowed and subdued her earlier almost euphoric relief that she possessed more than an insipid half measure of magic. Her jaw clenched. Under almost any other circumstance, the discovery of how to unlock latent magic abilities would have been cause for celebration, a smile.

  Akira’s face was expressionless, a false illusion of calm, hiding a storm of emotions. She berated herself. A warrior must be able to look death in the eye, and not flinch. I have practiced the art of killing for many months, always pushing the thought of dying to the farthest recesses of my mind.

  Now there was no pushing the reality of death back into a corner of her mind for someday or sometime examination. Bravery would take more effort. Akira took a deep breath. She looked ahead again. This time she saw the backs of the men in front of her. Seasoned warriors with not only great physical strength, but inner strength surrounded her. She felt humble to be among them.

  As she rode, horse’s hooves flung clods of dirt into the air, she remembered her first kill. It wasn’t a man. It was a rabbit. She remembered the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. She remembered feeling compelled to thank the rabbit for its life, thanking mother earth for providing the rabbit for food for her friends. It eased the remorse of taking life. The remorse was nothing compared to the hollow feeling that paled her face now. Even when anger joined the hollow feeling, the hollow feeling wouldn’t budge.

  She felt older than her eighteen years, soon to be nineteen. An urge to scream was replaced with a deep growl in her throat. Her heavily muscled warhorse, Pegasus, tipped his sensitive equine ears back at the grating sound escaping tightly sealed lips. His galloping stride didn’t falter. His ears twitched as if checking to make certain he had not missed a verbal command.

  The beauty of the descent was lost on Akira as she and the grim-faced warriors travelled the mountain. The height of the evergreens in the rain forest escaped her notice. That the tall, thick trunked, towering trees could be hiding enemies, was uppermost in her thoughts. The lush moss cushioning the forest floor received less than a cursory glance, but enough of a glance to realize the moss would muffle footsteps. Any movement of leaf, limb, squirrel, or bird caught her attention. Akira was acutely aware that the warriors riding beside her, in front of her and behind her, were providing a moving shield. As much as she was thankful for their protection it rankled. Her first day as a warrior could be summed up in one word. Dreadful

  To make matters worse Akira could feel a new energy coursing throughout her body looking for an outlet. The strange restless feeling was building. It was fast becoming a new source of fear. Akira knew her strong emotions were feeding the energy. Her skin prickled. Akira remembered a relaxation exercise the mountain mages taught her. She shivered. Fear of the feeling building inside of her body was fast outpacing the fear of being assassinated. She swallowed hard. Instinctively she knew gaining control of her emotions was linked to controlling the frightening energy, building inside her adrenaline-charged body. The exercises she had been learning to control her emotions had been done in a quiet peaceful atmosphere, not practiced on the back of a horse thundering down a mountain road among a group of fierce warriors.

  Akira took a deep breath, held it, and let it out slowly. She repeated the breathing exercise. The prickling sensation started to subside. She redoubled her efforts. no longer scanning her surroundings searching for danger. Her eyes locked on the back of Pegasus’s noble equine head. Her focus confined itself to her breathing, to the sound of her heartbeat. Repeated deep breaths of air made her dizzy. Akira grabbed her saddle horn tightly. The warriors surrounding her were unaware of the battle she waged with her emotions. They were oblivious to the danger she posed to them all. They were oblivious to her deep sigh of relief when the battle was won.

  Akira let her eyes come into focus. Once again, she was aware of the sights and smell of her surroundings. She realized she needed to be analytical with her thinking. Strong emotions stimulated her burgeoning magical energy. Her frustrated and undirected magic energy would have caused chaos.

  Akira forced herself to think calmly. A comrade is dead, because of me. I have discovered the way to unlock my magic too late to save Nels. Until I know what magic I possess, learn to use all my magic powers, I need protection. The Dark One sent an assassin to kill me. Does he fear what I possess? Is he trying to eliminate me before I gain strength? What do I possess? Why me? Akira’s thoughts troubled her. She felt the agitation build and took a few more calming breaths. Is it my destiny to be a warrior or a mage? Have I made a huge error chasing my childhood dream to be a warrior? A warrior serves no man but by choice. I have longed for choices, fought for them. Why would the gods give me the body of a woman when I do not have the demeanor to be subservient to men? And now the gods allow me to realize I am a halfling with more than a halfling’s measure of watered-down abilities?

  She sighed and cleared her mind. The irony that she had just left the safest place for a vulnerable fledgling mage-to-be, wasn’t lost on her. The majestic volcanic stone walls of the Order of the White Rose sanctuary, high on the mountain behind her, protected great thinkers, healers, white monks, and powerful mages; the same powerful mages who tried to coax Akira into a receptive connection with any latent mystical talents. It was a place of healing. It was a place with ancient knowledge, secreted and preserved, deep within the bowels of the mountain.

  It was a wondrous place of revelations, revelations that changed Akira’s perception of who she truly was and what truths had been denied her. It was a happy place where she discovered she had mourned
for naught, over a mother still alive, a place where she learned her despised father was nothing more than an evil stepfather. It was the place where she learned the identity of, and met, her mage father, Mage Morgan.

  Resisting magic, fearing magic, denying her inherent magic had been a way of life until she found truth and sanctuary high in the mountain behind her. Her lifelong disdain for men, save her tolerance for her brothers, was no longer all encompassing. She found she could like and respect some men, if they would treat her no differently than they would another man.

  One man, in particular, she liked more than others. Her eyes bored into the broad shoulders ahead of her. He was a fine figure of a man, young for a leader, but a seasoned battle-hardened warrior with a noble title for services rendered to his king. He didn’t look or act like any marquis she had ever met in the house of her mother’s husband, the notorious Baron Rolfe. Had the man riding in front of her been made of the same metal of the men she had observed growing up she would have despised him as equally as the others. But she did not.

  He had agreed to train her as a warrior. It had been difficult, arduous work. Akira’s stubborn attitude and defiant nature served her well. She had earned her white shield, wore her new rose tattoo with pride.

  She looked back to the mountain behind her, avoiding a downward look at the body tied to his horse. The mountain’s color was paling as they distanced themselves from it. It was too late to turn back now. She wished she could tell Mage Morgan he was right, that a strong mystical energy was vibrating through her body right then. Previously, Akira believed the influence of the bloodline she inherited from her mother was stronger than her father’s bloodline. Akira believed her mother’s bloodline diluted whatever magical energy her true father gifted her through his elite bloodline. Akira was happy enough to credit her lightness on her feet, her ability to move fast, to her father’s bloodline gifts. As a halfling, she was thankful for her simple, uncomplicated gift. The ability to be light and fast suited her desire to be a warrior. It wasn’t a frightening gift with evil connotations. It hardly seemed like the magic at all. What she lacked in physical strength was compensated by her ability to move fast, dipping and diving with the grace of a hummingbird in flight. All efforts to find and use mystical energy had for the most part been futile.

  Until now.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Red and yellow flames, half as high as a castle wall, reached into the star-studded night sky. The oil-soaked funeral pyre built with pitch-laden pine logs and branches forced onlookers to step back. Nels’ wife stood solemnly flanked by her children. Their faces were smudged with black ash. Their clothing showed rips, slashes, symbolic of the deep cutting pain of parting with a loved one.

  Nels’ home village lay at the foot of the hills below the mountain. It looked like every man, woman and child from the Village of Tall Timber was in attendance. It was an impressive circle of one hundred plus, watching the pyre burn. Drums pounded, vibrating their forceful sound throughout the early evening air to summon the spirit guide, Ojiba, to guide Nels’s spirit to the afterlife.

  Akira, like the warriors she stood shoulder to shoulder with, had a black streak smeared from her forehead, down the length of her nose to her chin. The village customs were foreign to her, but it seemed fitting.

  Her warrior companion, Cronus, leaned towards her whispering, “When the fire has freed Nels’ spirit from his body, the ashes will be scattered to the wind. After that, we will wash the mourning ashes from our bodies. Then, we’ll celebrate Nels’ journey to the spirit world where the honored dwell, waiting for their families to join them. He will be in good company. His father is in the afterlife world.”

  Akira frowned. “Your customs are strange to me. A celebration?” Her voice was a whisper.

  “Yes, it is an honor to die as a warrior. No better way to die. His family can be proud of his accomplishments, proud of his prowess as a warrior.”

  “But will his family not be vulnerable, unprotected? How will they manage without a warrior’s wages?” Akira’s eyes sympathetically swept over Nels’ family.

  “The widow of a warrior is provided for by our people. Dimitri will give Nels’ widow a pension.” Cronus nudged Akira’s elbow. His eyes stared into the flames as he spoke quietly. “I find your people’s customs strange if they don’t look after warrior’s widows.”

  Akira nodded as she watched showers of sparks float high, glowing until they disappeared and blended with the stars. “It is good to provide for widows of warriors.” She did not know the god of Nels, but she prayed silently to it in the hope that his god would hear her. Please grant your faithful servant a swift journey to your spirit world. In this world of men, he was a good man, and I’m told an honorable warrior, defender of your servants.

  Akira lowered her eyes from looking at the heavens above and let them sweep across the blackened faces of all those in the firelight gathered to witness the release of Nels’ spirit. Her eyes settled on Dimitri, the warrior leader, that had this winter just past, agreed to train her as a warrior. She studied the face of the only man that stirred the type of feelings that she swore to never have, or accept.

  Dimitri, the man who promised to awaken her body and help her finish her journey into womanhood, allowed his eyes to lock with hers momentarily. Dimitri looked away first.

  Akira looked at him for a second longer then averted her eyes. My awakening must wait. She thought about the promises Dimitri made when they were finally free on the mountain top to admit their attraction to each other. Adhering to a code of honor, Dimitri had made no advances, welcome or not, towards herself in his position as a teacher. Gaining her status of warrior changed everything. Thinking about the promised awakening helped take her mind off the funeral pyre in front of her. This custom of the people of the Tall Timber Village celebrating a death journey will not lift my spirits, and I can take no pleasure of the flesh until I have finished mourning my comrade, as is in my own custom. Akira’s eyes traveled again and settled on Nels’ wife. Suddenly Akira felt ashamed for thinking about promised pleasure with Dimitri. She forced her eyes to look at the flames reaching into the night. The flames sent showers of sparks upwards. Akira imagined the sparks guiding Nels’ spirit towards the stars.

  Cronus, ever alert, noticed an approaching figure. His large scarred hand moved swiftly to the hilt of his sword, before relaxing. Akira was deep in thought when the approaching man, wearing a ground sweeping hooded cape, moved to stand beside her. It was the familiar scent of incense clinging to his clothing that alerted her to his presence, and identity. She turned to face him, eyes wide. There was a definite look of relief on her face. It made the man facing her soften his expression.

  “Mage Morgan … Father? How’d you come to be here?” She started pulling him back behind the crowd. Cronus nodded at her, permitting her to leave his side. He too stepped back discreetly, allowing private conversation between Akira and the mage, but staying within striking distance of any man who approached Akira in a threatening way. The imposing looking warrior searched for any signs of danger. He nodded at another warrior who also moved into a better position to watch over Akira.

  “I came because you are in danger, my daughter.” Mage Morgan refrained from hugging her. A quick smile softened his craggy face. “You called me father. It pleases me.”

  Akira looked uncomfortable. She wasn’t used to kind words. Her stepfather had been anything but kind. Akira then frowned. “You know the Dark One sent an assassin to kill me?” Akira looked at him intently.

  The mage’s eyes grew stormy “No I didn’t know that! Cursed ogre’s breath and rotting putrid bone! We must have a spy atop the mountain for the Dark One to know of your a’kil powers already, and try to eliminate you so soon.” The stormy looking mage pounded his staff once against the earth, sputtering. “Curses, curses, curses! That isn’t the danger that compelled me to come to you. Now, this attack upon your person concerns me more. There are other lesser dangers you must be mad
e aware of. They can wait.”

  Akira had never seen any angry display by the mage before. It wasn’t a huge display. He was normally a controlled, unflappable man. It was a relief that he regained his calm composure quickly. “How did you get here so fast? Did you follow us down the mountain?” said Akira, looking puzzled. What danger does he see that is not so pressing as that of an assassin attack? She looked around, instinctively rather than deliberately, looking for danger. She noted Cronus doing the same. His presence was a comfort. The big burly warrior took his duties seriously. Dimitri had assigned him as her bodyguard. She shivered involuntarily. It was disconcerting to need a bodyguard. It was a small comfort for which she was grateful.

  “Daughter, you forget I’m a mage. I flew here straight away.”

  “You flew as in flap your wings, or robes, or what?”

  “It suited me to save my energy and fly by dragon.”

  Akira shook her head in obvious disbelief. “Dragons no longer exist.” She paused at the amused look on the mage’s face. His expression said volumes, gently mocking her misbelief. Akira’s voice took on an incredulous tone. She whispered, “They still exist?”. She paused. Her mind whirled. “They were not destroyed by Kalifar, the Dark One, for siding with humans in the great rebellion of old?”.

  “They exist. They hide while their numbers grow. Hide, while they gather strength.” Mage Morgan held his daughter’s eyes. The amused look was gone. His train of thought changed. “A lone assassin?”

  Akira nodded. She shuddered involuntarily. “His deadly arrow narrowly missed me.” Sadness filled her eyes, and furrowed her brow. “The arrow struck Nels in the shoulder. It wasn’t a mortal wound, but the arrow was poisoned. It is his send-off to the spirit world we are witnessing now.”

  Mage Morgan nodded knowingly. “Akira put your palms on top of mine. I want to see your memory of the event.”