Heir of Shandara (Book 4) Read Free Page B

future. Now, don’t you have something else to be focusing on?”
    Verona’s face turned several shades of red before he shook his head and shut off his comms device. Aaron tried to hold his laughter in, but when he heard Verona snicker he lost it. He shrugged his shoulders and turned his attention back to the Elitesmen stronghold.
    “Do you love her?” Aaron asked.
    “With everything that I am,” Verona answered.
    “What I would do is tell him that. A little reassurance can go a long way. You may not need his blessing, but it would certainly mean a lot to Roselyn if both you and Iranus could at least see eye to eye on this.”
    “You make it sound so easy and straightforward. As my uncle can attest, I was reckless in my pursuits until recently,” Verona said.
    “Aw, hell,” Aaron said.
    “What is it?” Verona asked, peering into the misty afternoon cold.
    “Paven’s group is in the wrong place, and now he’s arguing with Sarik,” Aaron said, shifting his position along the branch.
    “Remember what Gavril said about not swooping in. Let them sort it out,” Verona said.
    Aaron frowned. “Even if at the cost of lives? It’s a wonder the whole stronghold doesn’t know we’re here.” His teeth clenched down, but Gavril was right: the FNA needed to learn to function on its own.
    Verona looked through his spyglass. “This just got more interesting. This is the group that has been sacking the towns north of Duncan’s Port. Here, have a look,” Verona said, handing Aaron the spyglass.
    Aaron squinted and looked to where Verona pointed. There was a line of men leading to a tent. All of them were carrying various items of value. He scanned the stronghold and saw a group of people being led away in chains.
    “They’ve taken prisoners,” Aaron said.
    Verona’s eyes drew up in surprise. “Why would they do that? They haven’t taken anyone before. Weren’t these groups suspected to be aligned with Rordan?”
    The late high king’s son hadn’t been seen since the High King died at the battle at Rexel. Sarah had suspected that Rordan might return to Khamearra, but so far he’d seen fit not to show himself anywhere.
    “I bet a group this large is headed up by a few masters,” Aaron said.
    “The Elitesmen with the silver cloaks. I’m not sure our troops are prepared for something like that, and neither am I, to be honest, my friend.”
    Aaron nodded and handed back the spyglass. Elite Masters were among the most ruthless of the Order. They were highly skilled and could manipulate the flow of energy, depending on their own particular skill sets in working with the elements. He had faced them before at the arena in Khamearra. The silver-clad Elitesmen were as likely to kill their brethren as they were to focus upon their enemies.
    “It looks like someone else took up position where Paven was supposed to be… You’re not going to like it,” Verona said.
    Aaron frowned, drawing in the energy, and peered into the gloom. “It’s Sarah.”
    “Wasn’t she sick again this morning?” Verona asked.
    Soldiers in the stronghold raised the alarm and scrambled to the walls. The FNA forces were already attacking, closing the net around the stronghold so that none escaped. Aaron drew his swords with Verona doing the same. He couldn’t sit idly by while Sarah took it upon herself to join the attack. She was a match for any Elitesmen and probably the masters too, but he couldn’t take the chance. Not after everything they’d been through to be together.  
    Soldiers poured out of the tents with Elitesmen mixed between. Some howled their rage at their former brethren who had joined the Free Nations Army. With a nod to Verona, Aaron launched into the air, using the particles in the wind to extend his jump, and landed in the middle of the stronghold. Six Elitesmen streaked in his direction with their swords drawn.
    Aaron brought up the Falcons, and a few notes of the bladesong pierced the air. He charged forward,