Free Road To Shandara (Book One of The Safanarion Order) by Ken Lozito Page A

side of the house and another on the other side. Aaron drew the Falcons from their sheath and jumped down from his Jeep. The front bay windows shattered and his father tumbled onto the front lawn. His face was bloody and his left arm hung limp at his side as he struggled to rise.
    “Dad,” Aaron cried charging towards him.
    His father looked up at his call, “Aaron. Behind you!” his father shouted.
    Aaron dove to his left feeling the hiss of a blade on the air swipe where he had been and was back on his feet instantly. A man in black came rushing toward him, his sword blaring down. Aaron crossed his blades up together and stopped his opponent’s momentum through sheer strength. Charging forward he pulled the Falcons in opposite directions sending a glancing blow into his assailant’s face. The man in black cried out in pain and Aaron kicked him aside.
    He turned and saw another man in black standing behind his father. A gold cape hung loosely around his shoulders and a sword hung casually in his right hand. Four more men in black with a silver dragon emblem on their chest fanned out to either side with blades drawn.
    “Take him!” The leader ordered.
    Aaron froze in horror as his father scrambled around and wrapped his arm around the leader’s neck. The leader struggled for a few seconds, then reversed his blade and plunged it into his father who fell in deep sigh.
    Aaron jerked inward watching the blade sink in as if it were sinking into himself and his heart turned to ice. He screamed out to his father while charging forward. The first black clad figure rushed him with his sword out and Aaron never slowed. He lashed out with one blade knocking it aside, then with the second blade smoothly sliced through his opponent’s sword arm. The guttural scream was cut short as Aaron’s Falcons took him through the throat. Aaron never took his eyes from the leader and the inferno of rage within him grew mightily.
    Aaron cut through the remaining three men as if they were leaves writhing through the wind. All went down lifeless bathed in red and the bladesong burned in his mind.
    “Well met Reymius’s heir,” said Tye.
    Aaron snuck a quick glance at his father lying on the ground and was relieved to see his chest slowly rise and fall. He wondered where his mother was. As if an answer to his unspoken question, sounds of a struggle came from inside his house. Aaron called out to his mother while edging his way forward. The leader brought his sword up and moved with leopard like grace poised to spring.
    “I am Tye, Prince of Safanar. I am here to collect what your family has kept hidden for far too long. I can take it in life, but I prefer your death instead.” Then he lunged with his sword.
    Aaron unleashed the bladesong into the night. Each probing attack by Tye was driven back in an ever-flowing motion of song and steel. He brushed aside the gnawing questions and brought the attack to his opponent. Tye was good and adapted well to whatever Aaron threw at him. Neither held the upper hand. Aaron felt the power of the bladesong coalescing into him and he began to hear the whisperings of countless voices. Urges from within began guiding his hands and he struggled to maintain control. Panic set in and he tried to quiet his mind in a failed attempt to quell all that sought to distract him. Struggling and fighting two battles at once quickly exhausted him leaving him vulnerable to attack.
    Tye pressed his advantage driving Aaron back. Unable to block them out, Aaron opened himself up to the voices within, beginning to seek them out, merging the urges into his own fighting style. The medallion grew warm against his skin and the crystals within the hilts of his swords began to glow. Tye faltered and was driven back. His sword knocked from his hands as Aaron swept him off his feet.
    “Not so quick boy. Put down your swords,” a voice ordered behind him.
    Aaron maneuvered to see where the voice had come from and kept Tye in his