Lost Wanderer Awakened - Book One of the Airendell Chronicles Read online

  Lost Wanderer Awakened - Book One of the Airendell Chronicles

  By Audra Hart

  COPYRIGHT 2013 by Jen Bailey/Jenny Bailey

  ISBN: 9781310085543

  Cover by Jen Bailey

  Smashwords edition

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons, living or dead is coincidental.

  Lost Wanderer Awakened - Book One of the Airendell Chronicles

  PROLOGUE – Airendell Chronicler

  The tall, statuesque woman stands on the hill overlooking the group of mourners in the cemetery below. The icy wind whips her long silver hair across her face. She doesn’t really notice the mourners or the freezing rain soaking her hair and cape. Her memories have carried her nearly six hundred years back in time…

  Kyera knew she would arrive too late to save him. The vision she had received from their ally had been unmistakable: Marcus, her master and mate, comes across a beautiful bronze-haired Spell Weaver deep in a trance. The ancient vampire has a fondness for the blood of those touched by magic. His intense thirst makes him careless, so he doesn’t detect the approaching female Spell Weaver as she hurries to the glen to join her beloved.

  Marcus has nearly drained the male immortal’s body of blood when the victim’s wife comes upon them. Her boundless rage strengthens the iron-lion spell she weaves through her body. Her seething ire is fueled by terror that she has come too late to save her beloved, her man of light.

  The tiny Spell Weaver launches herself at the vampire. The sound like shattering granite fills the air as she crushes his jaw with a single blow, breaking the vampire’s hold on her mate’s neck. The ancient blood drinker falls on his hands and kneels as his body starts to heal itself. The fire-haired girl leaps onto his back and grabs his head in her hands, with a fierce twist and savage pull; she rips his head from his body. In her rage, she continues to rend the icy, stone hard body into pieces; the sound of shattering granite fills the glen.

  Finally, she recovers enough from the blood red rage that has seized her to check on her love. The ancient one’s venom is coursing through his body, and he writhes in agony. His tortured screams fill her ears and shred her heart. She fears his life force is ebbing away. She’s certain the ancient vampire had drained too much of his precious blood for him to be able to heal himself, or even to survive the change.

  The fire-haired Spell Weaver knows she has to dispose of the ancient vampire before she can safely tend to her lover. She quickly gathers the bloody, granite like pieces of the vampire’s body and piles them for burning. She grunts in satisfaction as she weaves the spell to start the blaze that will turn the stone cold monster to ash. The sickly sweet, thick and oily smoke fills the glen, and clears the last remnants of fury from her brain, replacing it with overwhelming fear for her beloved.

  The immortal female returns to her mate. She kneels and weaves the healing spells over his writhing body. His agonized screams fill their glen, and tear at her courage. In her heart she fears this won’t be enough to save her mate. Fear and utter desolation at the thought of losing the man she loves more than her own life chills her to the bone. She closes her eyes and prays for guidance. In utter desperation, she takes her dagger from her belt and slits her wrist. She holds her shaking hand over his mouth to allow her life’s blood to trickle down his throat. When she starts to feel faint she weaves a healing spell over the self-inflicted wound, and she prays that this frantic act will be enough to save her beloved. She cradles the beautiful bronze head in her lap and sings the healing songs over and over as he thrashes and screams in agony.

  She continues her vigil for three days until his agonized cries and writhing finally cease. Her voice is just a hint of a whisper from the continuous singing. Her strength is decimated from the repeated blood loss as she has continued to feed him her own blood to keep him alive during the long vigil. Only her love and stubborn determination has kept her upright and singing during the three days that she cradled his struggling form. Finally, she collapses in total exhaustion over his body.

  Kyera, the tall, beautiful silver haired spell-weaver, turned dark witch finds the pair in the glen an hour after the fire-haired female collapses. Her rage boils at the sight of the ancient vampire’s cold ashes. She sneers at the pair of lovers. Her fury and grief are fueled by the sure knowledge that she cannot kill the pair unless she is willing to forfeit her own immortality. No Spell Weaver can deliberately kill another ascended magical being without losing their own immortality, except to save their own life.

  The glen resounds with her blood-curdling scream. The pair stirs from their stupors in time to see the dark mists swirling in the glen, and feel the power of the dark witch’s spell as it splits the air like lightning, as it chills them to their very souls. The vicious words of her curse on their lives will be forever seared into their memories:

  “My love you have taken from me,

  The same I shall do to thee…

  Without reason or rhyme,

  Your lover shall chase you through time…

  Though I cannot take your life,

  I will fill your eternity with suffering and strife…

  Every time he finds you, from his arms you will be torn,

  And into a new life you will be born…

  Over and over through time you shall roam,

  Ever, just out of the reach of your blood thirsty man of stone.”

  CHAPTER 1 – CARNAGE

  Kyera drags herself back to the present time. Her lip pulls back in a sneer as she watches the mourners drift away from the graveside. Her hatred for the woman stroking the small coffin is a tangible thing. It is so strong, in fact, that the grief stricken mother raises her tear stained face to look up the hill. When she sees the tall silver-haired woman standing there watching, her heart is instantly filled with a deep sense foreboding that she can’t even begin to understand. She wipes her face with trembling hands to clear the freezing rain from her eyes. When she looks again, the silver haired woman is gone.

  The grieving mother tries to wipe the image from her mind. Her family is worried. She must collect herself and go to them. Her pain over the loss of her precious son, Aiden is so intense she can barely breathe, but her other two children, Kyle and Nora still need their mother. She takes a deep breath, and composes her face then turns toward her little family.

  Rolan, her husband of nineteen years is waiting for her. He is tall and strong, with dark hair and eyes. His handsome face radiates open displeasure at her slow pace. She tries to give him a tiny smile, but only manages a grimace. He extends his hand to her, and looks over his shoulder to their waiting children when she hesitates. She nods, but walks past him to the children.

  Kyle, at age fourteen, is tall like his parents with his sire’s darker coloring, but has his mother‘s strong facial features and emerald eyes. He stands a few feet behind Rolan. He is holding an umbrella in one hand, and his other hand is placed protectively on the shoulder of his six year old sister, Nora. She’s tiny for her age with a heart shaped face and a pert, little upturned nose. She has her mother’s red hair and bright green eyes that are red and swollen from crying.

  Both children have tear stained faces that reveal their deep sense
of loss and their concern for their mother. She tries to smile at them, and pats them gently on their heads as she walks by. She moves like someone in a trance toward the family’s blue minivan. She reminds herself of her duty, and she calls softly over her shoulder, “Come along babies, and let’s go home.”

  Once her family is loaded in their car, Deidra looks out the window. Rolan is complaining bitterly about being caught out in the freak Oklahoma ice storm in mid-April. Dee knows he’s angry with her for taking so long at the graveside and she feels a bit of her own anger rise up inside of her. She tamps it down and continues to stare out the window of the mini-van. But she doesn’t see the freezing rain that’s collecting on the van’s windows, or the world around her. Her thoughts are on her son that they just buried; all she sees is Aiden’s sweet face contorted in agony as that last horrible seizure rips through his body.

  Finally the seizures stop, Deidra is relieved until she realizes that Aiden, her baby, isn’t breathing. She screams for the nurse, and starts performing CPR on her child. The nurse quickly enters the room, calls the code, she then forces Deidra out of the way and takes over the CPR. Within moments, the doctor and the rest of the team enter the hospital room. They try in vain for 48 minutes to revive the tiny ten year old boy, but it’s no use. His frail little body has been so weakened by cerebral palsy and a seizure disorder that he never really had a chance. The doctor, puts the paddles back on the crash cart, “Time of death, 11:35 p.m.,” he says.

  When the doctor turns to exit the room he is shocked to see the child’s mother standing there silently, with tears streaming down her face. She has watched the epic struggle to save her son’s life. She looks up into the doctor‘s face, the look of pity she sees there makes her scream and collapse. She knows there is no hope. Her baby is truly gone! And it’s her fault, she could have saved him… she just knows it, but she just doesn’t know how.

  Deidra squeezes her eyes shut, trying to block out the memories. She fervently wishes she could die too so that she doesn’t have to endure this horrible loss. Guilt washes over her as she thinks of her other two children, and her duty, no her mission to be a good mother to them as well. But she can’t deny her strong desire to die. She’s trying to pull herself back into the moment. She can hear Nora talking to Kyle in the backseat, but she’s not paying enough attention to know what she is saying.

  The horrific reverie is shattered as something rips into Deidra’s chest and she hears the screams of her family, the screech of smashing metal, and the crash of shattering glass. A giant semi-truck has crashed into the family’s minivan. Slamming the hapless auto and its riders through the intersection and into the concrete and steel of the overpass column. Deidra’s last thought before everything goes black, is; “Please, not my family! Not my family!”

  The silver-haired witch smiles maliciously as she watches from her vantage point at the top of the overpass. Suddenly, she feels the mother’s life force leaving her body. Kyera panics! “If she dies, I will be called to judgment and lose my immortality.” she hisses. She floats down from the overpass and runs over to find the bitch’s body in the carnage. She touches the woman’s brow just in time to weave a brief spell.

  Kyera has successfully stopped the life force from leaving the wrecked body of her enemy. The silver haired witch spits in her victim’s face and then she looks around and admires her handiwork. The husband and children’s broken and lifeless bodies are trapped in the demolished minivan. The vehicle is on fire and will soon explode. Kyera reaches down to yank a jagged piece of mangled steel out of her enemy’s chest before grabbing the woman by the hair, and dragging her away from the carnage.

  She sees the semi driver approaching on foot. He is coming out from under the influence of her spell. He’s watching her in terror. Kyera laughs thunderously and then weaves an invisibility spell before the rescuers arrive. The semi driver has seen it all. He’s terrified and confused. He just can’t understand why his truck accelerated against the red light and into the minivan. The tall woman with wild silver hair terrifies him. He instinctively knows this woman is pure evil.

  He falls to knees screaming in horror because he knows that his truck has taken the lives of all in the van. He knows that no one will ever believe that he wasn’t controlling his truck, nor will they believe him if he tells them about the silver haired woman. He has no family, no one who will stand with him. Now, he knows he never will. He knows his life is over just as surely as the lives of those in the burning vehicle.

  Kyera remains at the scene of the carnage until the mortals load the bitch into the ambulance and drive away. She is reluctant to leave, but she never knows when Lucian will arrive. She is reveling in her victory. In this incarnation, she has again found Morna before he could. She feels gleefully triumphant over this small victory, yet still fearful.

  Her coven will probably order a death warrant for her for this day’s work, but it was well worth it. But more importantly, she’s worried about her enemy’s mate. Once the Spell Weaver turned vampire catches up with his mate, Kyera is reluctant to engage him because he is very powerful and full of rage. Kyera knows that he would gladly risk forfeiting his immortality to take her life because of what she has done to his beloved mate, this day and in the past as well.

  CHAPTER 2 - AFTERMATH – Deidra

  What the hell is he saying? I am trying to comprehend what this doctor is telling me, but nothing he’s saying makes any damned sense. Semi-truck? Ice storm? Brain swelling? Seven surgeries? Coma? None of this makes any sense!

  “Doctor, who is taking care of my children?” I demand, a little less patiently this time. Jeez, that can’t be that hard of a question to answer. Either Rolan has them… or someone else. Speak up Doc! I mean I won‘t exactly be thrilled if Rolan has them, he‘s not exactly Father of the Year, but he is their father.

  “Cat got your tongue, Doc? I asked you, who is taking care of my children?”

  The short, balding surgeon runs his hand across his shiny bald dome and looks at the nurse standing beside him. What’s he looking for? Guidance? Does this quack not even know enough about his patient to know who has my kids?

  “Doc, please just tell me who has my kids?”

  “Mrs. Montfort, I am so sorry to have to tell you this, but your children did not survive the car crash.”

  NO! NO! NO! He’s lying! There was no car crash! This is Rolan’s sick idea of a joke.

  “Get the hell out of here!” I scream at the doctor and his timid little nurse standing beside him. I want to throw the water pitcher at the man. But I don’t. Innately, I am far too polite to ever do such a thing. So I just stare at him and wish him to hell for being so cruel.

  “Mrs. Montfort, I know this is a lot to absorb and I truly wish that I did not have to be the one to tell you this. Your children and your husband did not survive the crash. You were on your way home from your youngest son’s funeral. There was a freak ice storm and… well, apparently the semi was going too fast and could not stop at the intersection. He crashed into your family’s minivan. The only reason you survived is because you were thrown from the vehicle. I never thought I would see the day that I was glad someone wasn’t wearing their seat belt.”

  I always wear my seat belt, what is this guy talking about?

  “Everyone else in the car died before the first responders could get there,” the doctor is still speaking, but he isn’t making any sense to Dee.

  Several long moments pass without Dee responding. Bald Doctor looks at Timid Nurse and says, “Her blood pressure is going too high, give her another dose of the sedative.”

  “I don’t want a damned sedative,” I rage at the doctor. “I want the truth.” But I can see the truth in Bald Doctor’s eyes. My babies really are gone! This isn’t some horrendous bad joke. “Go away, please. I need a moment alone.”

  Bald Doctor looks up when Timid Nurse comes back with my shot to go into I.V. I watch her put the medicine in there, and wonder vaguely if all of this a
drug induced nightmare. Soon I drift off into a drug induced sleep. I dream about searching for my kids. They are out there somewhere, needing their mother and I am letting them down.

  The next time I open my eyes, Janice Smith is sitting at my bedside. Janice and I have taught school in the same district for over twenty years. We were hired at the same time. She’s the closest thing I have to a best friend. We are only work friends, we don’t share intimate details of our lives with each other, but we’ve always been honest with each other. She is looking at me with such a sad smile on her face and I know that the damned nightmare about the doctor telling me I had been the only survivor of a horrific car crash is real.

  My babies are really gone!

  I try to sit up in the bed, and the pain is excruciating. “Easy Dee.” Jan says quietly. “Your body is still in pretty bad shape. Let me call the nurse to help you.”

  Timid Nurse comes back and helps me sit up. I want to yell at her because it hurts so damned bad when she moves me, but I know it’s not her fault. I hurt all over. I look down at myself and think, it’s no small wonder. My left leg and left arm are both in some kind of apparatus… with metal frames around them and what appears to be bolts sticking into my body, apparently holding my bones in place so they can heal.

  SHIT!

  I look at Jan, “So it’s true? There really was a crash? My babies are gone?”

  Jan just looks like she wants to cry when she nods. “Yeah, Dee, it’s true.”

  “How?”

  Jan hands me a manila folder. “I kept the newspaper clippings. The doctor says you may never get your memory back of the crash, and maybe that’s a good thing.”

  I take the folder in my right hand and lie it on my waist. I am looking at it like it contains rattlesnakes. Hell, I wish it did. That would be easier to deal with than what is actually in there. I know that folder contains proof that my family is gone.