Lightshield: Book One (The Lightshield Epic 1) Read online

  Lightshield

  The Lightshield Epic

  Matt Honorato

  Published by Matt Honorato, 2017.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  LIGHTSHIELD

  First edition. January 16, 2017.

  Copyright © 2017 Matt Honorato.

  Written by Matt Honorato.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  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

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Author’s Note

  Free Book!

  Chapter 1

  Places in the world were seldom as peaceful as the woods after the sun leaves the sky.

  A gentle breeze rustled leaves as they exhaled that sweet yet minty scent only bamboo forests give.

  Artos was crouching next to one of the very few non-bamboo trees he had seen in an hour. He took a gulp of water from his canteen and drew a long breath.

  How long has it been? Five? Six hours?

  He had left the castle days ago; hunting for something he didn't even know existed. A mouth-to-ear tale passed down by generations of this land's inhabitants. A creature supposed to be as powerful as it was elusive.

  Artos checked the ground again. These were definitely footsteps. Tracks of an animal unlike anything he had ever encountered. And yet, tracks meant the creature was real. And everything that is real can be killed.

  The dark haired man stood up, caressing the claw marks carved into a nearby tree. The rugged feeling that creature had left, the shape of those claws, their force. Those were the only things that could arouse a hunter the way they made Artos's insides tingle.

  He hadn't spoken a word to a living soul in over three days. Still, he didn't feel lonely. Here, in the wild, there was peace. A prey and a hunter, dancing a long and deadly ballad. One of them was likely oblivious to the other, but nature had its ways of warning its children that they were in danger.

  The claw marks and broken tree branches Artos was following had been appearing more frequently. The creature had sped up, probably warned about the presence of a threat in its territory. Artos took another gulp of water and resumed his walk. Knees slightly bent to muffle every last sound his feather-like feet made. He was close to his goal.

  She is close, I can feel it.

  The minty scent left by the mix of bamboo and eucalyptus trees grew stronger as he approached a hill. The tall trees let just enough light escape through their leaves for Artos to make out the moon up in the sky. It shone brightly with a slight tint of red. It was a harvest moon. A sign from the gods this would be the night he'd reap his efforts.

  A new rustling of leaves reached his ears. Was the wind picking up its pace?

  Crack!

  Artos dropped to the floor as soon as he made out the sound of a branch cracking. It was coming from the other side of the hill. Could it be?

  The hunter crawled his way to the top of the hill and peeked over.

  There she is.

  He wanted to celebrate, but this was only the first step, and judging by the size of that creature the second step could be a deadly one.

  Bears were not uncommon where Artos came from. However, he had never seen one like this. It was sitting down on the ground just like a person would, its gigantic paws braking lower branches from a young bamboo tree while its mouth took care of whatever fell from it.

  A herbivore? Artos was no stranger to admiring his prey before taking a shot, but that sight was baffling, to say the least. His fingertips were itching, begging to hold an arrow, begging to pull the string. The heart of a hunter teaches to admire the beauty of an animal, but at the same time, it can only be satisfied by conquest and blood. That giant bear seemed like couldn't be shorter than eight feet tall should it stand on its hind legs. A trophy unlike any other, a conquest unlike any other.

  Its body's coloration was odd. Back in the South, animals used their body colors as camouflage to hide from predators, but this bear's body was a mix of black and white that made it as easy to spot as a crow in the midst of all that frozen grass and snow.

  Artos's fingertips itched again and this time he gave them what they wanted. The hunter got up to a kneeling position, low enough that the bear wouldn't spot him, but high enough that he would be able to get a good shot off.

  The movement of his arms and back was swift. The result of countless years of practice and repetition. He lowered his breath to dissipate any little hint of shaking from his arms. One deep inhale and then a shot following a soft exhale.

  Tchi!

  The iron tip of his arrow cut the night sky, breaking the wind and finding its target. Artos watched as the arrow landed right where the bear's heart should be. He let out a relaxing sigh. The job was done.

  UUUUUOOOOOHHHHH!

  The ground and trees shook as the bear howled in pain. Artos jumped to his feet instinctively.

  It didn't die?

  A speckle of red tainted the bear's white fur as it stood up on its hind legs. The creature turned to where Artos was standing. The most imposing figure anyone had ever seen. With an arrow sticking out of its powerful chest the bear howled again, this time loud enough to make Artos's battle-hardened legs shake with the sound. He pulled another arrow from his quiver and let it fly at the creature. It landed right next to the first one. The bear howled in pain and dropped to all fours.

  Its eyes were locked on Artos, in them, there was something he couldn't quite pan out, but it was something that scared him nonetheless.

  The creature charged. Artos let another arrow fly at it. The arrow was precise, piercing the side of the bear's neck. It tilted a bit to the side but quickly regained its composure and resumed the charge. With the gap closing between them, Artos couldn't come up with a backup plan. He cursed himself for not brainstorming in advance. And yet, how could he blame himself? Two arrows to the heart and one to the neck should be more than enough to kill anything.

  He turned his back to the charging bear and ran down the hill. Without having to care for muffling his footsteps, Artos was quick. Running and gliding on the icy grass he reached the bottom of the hill just as his pursuer reached the top.

  The bear growled again from under the moonlight. It was a scene worth a painting, but Artos's pounding heart distracted him from the beauty of i
t. He shot another arrow at the bear. This time it only grazed the creature's shoulder and disappeared into the night sky. He looked around for an escape route, but there was nowhere to hide from that beast.

  The ground started shaking again as the bear pounded the ground on his way down the hill. To his left, Artos spotted the tree covered in claw marks and came up with the only possible escape plan. He had to attack that bear from a distance. Should it get close enough, there was no amount of speed and dexterity that would save Artos from the power of those claws and teeth.

  He swung his bow around his shoulder and leaped to the lowest branch of that tree. Unlike the bamboos all around them, this should be easy enough to climb and stay up until his assailant was gone.

  It was hard to tell which hurt more; having his pride as a hunter turned upside down as he became a prey rather than a predator, or the fact that his heart seemed keen on trying to pound its way out of his chest in fear. Sweaty palms made for a tough climb, but Artos managed to get up on the tree and away from the reach of that monstrosity. The bear reached the tree just as Artos climbed a third branch. It slammed into the tree.

  The world shook like an earthquake under and around Artos. He grabbed the branch as if he was a frightened child holding on to his mother's skirts in the face of fear. The tree stopped shaking after a few heart-wrenching seconds, but that was not when the fear stopped.

  Artos looked down. All he saw was a pair of deep blue eyes, focused on him. The bear had its arms around the tree as if it was hugging it. Soon it reached up and slammed its claws into the trunk. The damn thing was climbing the tree.

  They were separated by twelve feet at most.

  Bam!

  The sound of wood breaking as the claws dug themselves into the tree trunk hazed Artos's mind. What should I do?

  He stood on the branch and readied his bow one more time. If it was time to go, he'd better go down fighting. Artos's hands trembled as he picked up another arrow from his quiver. It had been a long time since he was terrified enough for fear to cloud his mind and make his legs start shaking.

  Nevertheless, the survival instinct of a warrior is not something to be taken lightly. The bear was quickly closing the short gap between them. Time was not on his side, and a single miss could mean certain death. Artos's mind calmed itself the way only the minds of those who had been on the brink of the veil of death knew how to. He fired the first shot.

  The arrow landed on top of the bear's head. It growled and almost lost its balance as one of its arms came off the tree trunk. Artos took the opening. He leaped down from the branch, flying towards the creature. It swung its free paw at the arrow sticking out of its head. The arrow broke in half and the bear looked up again. Artos hit it just before the blue eyes found their way back to him. The hunter stomped on the broken arrow stump sticking out of his assailant's head with the heel of his boot. The bear growled in pain one more time and swung its claws towards the falling man.

  Blood damped Artos's ankle as a sting on his leg signaled one of the bear's claws tore the back of his right calf open. Had it not been for the rush of adrenaline the pain would've been enough to knock him out. Nevertheless, he was ready for the pain and what had to happen next. He landed on his left leg and rolled to break the impact. The rush of pain went to his knee this time. Doing his best to disregard it he quickly turned back to the tree.

  The bear was already falling right after him. Its mouth was wide open in a cry of pain. Its once white chest was now a pool of scarlet-red blood, as were his shoulder and neck. The arrow on top of its head was barely visible. Artos's last resort attack seemed to have finally caused some damage. He jumped back a few yards before the bloodied bear landed on the ground. A small hazy cloud of snow powder went up in the air and the ground shook again at the weight of the beast.

  Far from dead, the bear's blue eyes were on Artos again. They seemed clouded, but Artos was finally able to make out what they had been portraying all this time. Anger.

  He shot an arrow at the bear just as it took the first step towards him. This arrow landed near the monster's nose. It twitched a bit but took another step. Artos shot again, hitting the other side of the beast's face. It stumbled but didn't fall.

  Tchi! Tchi! Tchi! Tchi!

  Like a meteor shower, the arrows kept flying from Artos's bow. Shot after shot, piercing the thick hide of the black and white bear. It relentlessly kept moving forward towards the man shooting the arrows in spite of the pain. The fear was starting to tingle in Artos's head again as he doubted the creature would ever fall.

  Slowly, it stopped moving forward. Stuck time after time until it looked like a porcupine, the majestic bear finally trembled in its step. Its legs shook ever so slightly and lastly it fell on the snowy ground. Painting the frozen grass with its blood, unable to keep going, unable to move, unable to think, unable to breathe. Conquered.

  Chapter 2

  The castle walls looked nowhere near as grim as they had the first time Artos laid eyes on them. Of course, the first time he laid eyes on those walls he was spearheading a small army, beginning a siege to depose the previous rulers of that land. War was the only way he knew for most of his life. Blood and bones were the only two things you could be sure were under a man's skin. Artos's father had made sure to imprint that into his mind as well as his brother's. Trusting another person entirely was the beginning of the end for all men.

  His father was a good man, a good father. He raised both his sons with iron fists, prepared them for anything the world could throw at them. Their tribe was nothing more than a lost little civilization in a southern prairie. A land that was never forgotten by the outside world because the outside world had never learned of it. Well, at least until the first Pale Men came to their land.

  They took everything that shined and quickly disposed of elders and warriors of the village alike. Artos's father was no exception.

  Revenge was indeed a meal best-served cold. And although it took them some time, Artos and his brother managed to get their revenge on the men who killed their father. They ruled in a far away land, full of snow and icy peaks, unlike the southern grasslands where Artos and his brother grew up.

  The brothers grew stronger and captivated the hearts of many followers on their way North. Tribes of people who were also ravaged by the Pale Men.

  By the time they reached the Pale Men's stronghold, all they had to do was wait until the tyrants starved behind their stone walls. Of course, the Pale Men refused to perish and tried to escape.

  The banners hanging on the walls of the castle were a kind reminder that their escape was not a successful enterprise. With their revenge accomplished, Artos and his brother settled into the stronghold they later named the Castle of Light. With their many followers also satisfied by the vengeance they attained, the masses settled in the lands near the castle and formed villages. Life went on as their purpose for revenge was no more. They lacked a push, a goal, so they simply lived out their lives.

  Artos swung the doors to the main hall open. Inside the main hall was a fair portrayal of what most days inside the Castle of Light looked like.

  "Artos!" A young-looking man opened his arms as he recognized the figure entering the hall. "You have been gone for too long, brother."

  Artos smirked as he unloaded his packs on the floor. "I have been away for only a few days, Terric," Artos said. "You, on the other hand, seem to be doing exactly what you were doing when I departed, little brother."

  The smile on Terric's face dimmed ever so slightly. Even after all these years, he was still thrown off whenever Artos called him little brother. Terric was little over a year younger than Artos, but unlike his older brother he was blessed with fair skin that seemed never to age. He kept his composure and removed an adorned golden crown from his head and placed it on a pillow.

  "Off off," he swatted away one of the women lying at the foot of his throne. They quickly scattered and stepped away as Terric stood up.

  "What have you
brought me, big brother?" Terric didn't even bother hiding the sarcasm in his voice.

  Artos smiled under his thick beard and lifted the severed black and white head of the bear he had slain. Terric's eyes widened at the sight as a true, jovial, smile filled his face. Like a young kid he hurried from the throne to admire his brother's latest trophy from up close.

  "It was real then," Terric ran his fingers through one of the many arrow holes on the creature's head. "What is it?"

  Artos shrugged. "A bear of some sorts. Bigger than anything I had ever seen."

  "I see," Terric's eyes shifted from the severed head to his brother's legs. "You were injured," he waved one of the servant girls. "Fetch the healer."

  Artos swung his cloak over the leg to hide the cut on his leg. "It looks worse than it is," he laughed. Times, when he and his brother shared genuine interest about something, grew sparser as the years went by. Postponing a visit to the healer was worth a few minutes with Terric.

  After they had taken the Castle of Light, the brothers faced the task of choosing who should rule over this new land. Artos was quick to refuse the job, almost as fast as Terric was to take it.

  As time went by, that golden crown seemed to have a certain effect on Terric. Slowly, he grew hungry with power and lustful with the perks of possessing it. He spent most of his time with the many wives he wed and just as many eating and drinking with their old brothers' in arms.

  Unlike the other men, Artos found little pleasure in the life of royalty they earned after their conquest. He itched for a link to a distant past. A past when things were easier. A past when he and Terric had a common goal rather than opposing lives. A past when their father still took them out on hunts.

  After settling in these lands, Artos devoted his life to hunting. For food, for excitement, for glory, it didn't matter. He searched for creatures unknown to other men, legends made of skin and bones rather than words and petty folklore. And whenever he encountered such creatures, those were the times of joy. Times when he could go back to the castle and watch his little brother's eyes filled with excitement and wonder just as they did when they were younger.