Aeneas

A e n e a s

  Spirian Short Adventures

  By Rowena Portch

  Other Books by Rowena Portch

  Protected — Union — Legend — Aeon Pneuma — Illusions — Fealty — Shifter

  RowenaPortch.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher, except as provided by USA copyright law.

  Aeon Enterprises, Inc.

  Cover Illustration and Book Design by Aeon Enterprises, Inc.

  Edited by Tyler Tichelaar

  Copyright © 2014 by Rowena Portch

  This is a work of fiction. The events and characters described herein are imaginary and are not intended to refer to specific places or living persons. The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author and do not represent the opinions or thoughts of the publisher. The author has represented and warranted full ownership and/or legal right to publish all the materials in this book.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Prologue

  My name is Connor Avel Hawk and I was born into a clan of Spirians, though I have never really felt like one. You see … thousands of years ago when the Angels decided to mate with the Fae, the Spirian race was born. They are like humans, except they vibrate with the frequency of Angels and harbor the gifts of the Fae. Humans, of course, cannot tell us apart from their kind, which enables us to live among them in harmony.

  Our adversaries, the Shadows, are the fallen in this world—well, most of them, anyway. There are a few born of the Shadow clans who carry a moral thread and demonstrate integrity. As with all aspects of life, however, with every good stems an equal evil—a battle Spirians and humans alike have waged since the beginning of time.

  I, on the other hand, am unlike any Spirian known to this world. My mother, Elle, was human until she was touched by an Archangel. This enabled her to reunite with her mate, Avel, from a past life. By that point, she had reincarnated as a human in the late twentieth century and he had become an Angel. One night together and I became the miracle son—a reincarnation of the unborn child who died when my mother took her own life shortly after Avel's death in the Spartan wars. Avel's reunion with Elle was short, and like all things in life, it came to an end. When I was six, my mother united with a Spirian male named, Drew Hawk, which explains why I have three names while most Spirians have only two—another thing that makes me different.

  Yes, physically, I am a Spirian, born unto this life by the shear mercy of the Holy Father. I was told I had a purpose to fulfill and that my life would be important. I started showing promise at the young age of fifteen, when I learned how to change one substance into another: lead into gold, glass into diamonds, that sort of thing. This gift makes me an alchemist like my grandfather Hermes Trismegistus, the father of alchemy. Yes, it is odd having family who died several hundred years ago. It made growing up quite interesting, I assure you.

  But that family connection may also explain why I find trouble wherever I go—well, that and the fact that I'm frustrated by being so different and misunderstood. Our leader, Khalen, who also happens to be my best friend, Gabrihen's father, never seems to know what to do with me. I'm in my twenties now, and filled with a quest to find my father's magical sword, Aeneas. Hermes forged the sword for his beloved son to wield in the Spartan wars. Through magic, it had been honed to obey Avel's commands with fatal accuracy—not that my father needed it, for he was an excellent warrior. Now, Aeneas is a commodity among those who crave the power to rule and conquer their enemies. I, on the other hand, only wish to invoke Aeneas' power to connect with my father. You see, only he understands my gift of alchemy, and he alone can further my skills. I've spent the last seven years tracking down the sword. Now it is time to make it my own, and connect with the father I never knew.

  Chapter 1

  ~ C o n n o r ~

  Southern California reminded me of a fantastical metropolis where humans had turned a desert into an oasis. We Spirians preferred peace and ample space while humans tended to cluster in cities. Looking out at the cars sitting bumper-to-bumper outside the antiquities shop in Glendale made me appreciate Gabrihen's gift to transport us all the more, even if it did leave me nauseous. Dematerializing flesh and bones into tiny particles and then materializing them again at another location was hard on any physical body, Spirian or no. As far as anyone knew, the gift was reserved only for wizards.

  "What's the plan?" Gabrihen asked. He was not completely on board with this venture, but being my closest friend, he had agreed to spend our spring break helping me find Aeneas—a magical sword that once belonged to my deceased father.

  "We go in and offer to purchase Aeneas." I had made a good sum of money over the years competing in mixed-martial arts competitions, so I felt confident I had enough to pay for the valuable weapon.

  Gabrihen shook his head and followed me through the door. "Nothin' is ever that simple with ye, my friend." His Scottish brogue had thickened over the winter in Uig, where he trained under the old wizard, Tetris.

  I was an alchemist, the first of my kind, which meant no other Spirian truly understood me. This fact was proven when our leader, Khalen, sent me to a university for metaphysical studies because he had no one in our clan who could train me. Learning about metaphysics for someone who mastered alchemy at the age of fifteen was boring—elementary at best. What I needed was my father. He was imperative to furthering my knowledge. One problem remained—he died before I was born. I needed Aeneas to connect with him.

  Crash!

  Gabrihen and I jumped back as a small table tumbled down the stairs, followed by shouts and grunts.

  "Upstairs," I said, leaping over the table and taking the steps two at a time.

  "Great," Gabrihen muttered. "I knew this wouldn't be easy."

  Two people were fighting: a petite female and a tall lanky male. My eyes cartooned when I saw the female wield Aeneas like a hunk of scrap wood. Bang, spark, scrape, and another bang as she slammed it into a cast-iron sink.

  I leapt into the fray, my only thought being saving my father's sword from certain destruction. Gripping the blade, I yelled as the sprite pulled it from my grasp. The razor-sharp steel sliced my palm. She followed up with an impressive back fist to my temple.

  "A little help," I called to Gabrihen, who watched with far too much amusement.

  The damn place was so littered with junk that I stumbled with every step. When I was able to gain balance again, I leapt toward the sword-wielding female, knocking Aeneas from her careless grip. It fell with a clang to the wooden floor, bouncing a few times before landing among the rubble.

  Mr. Lanky Man, wide-eyed and panting, grabbed the sword as if it were crafted of delicate glass and dashed out of the room using a rear exit. The press of his clothes and his pompous hairstyle, with too much gel, led me to believe he was the store's proprietor. Paying more attention to him than the woman I tackled was a mistake. She twisted out of my grip and landed a solid blow to my jaw while her feet connected with my ribs. She then did a backflip out of my reach and followed the furtive proprietor out the door.

  Gabrihen started clapping … slow and methodical. "Well done. That was splendid. The lass was what, almost a foot shorter than you and weighed maybe ni
nety pounds, yeah?"

  "She was nimble."

  "I think she out-skilled ye."

  I kicked the rubble at my feet. A metal bowl and broken porcelain scattered away, slamming into fallen desks and shelves. "This was supposed to be easy, damn it."

  "She was a Spirian." Unlike humans, Spirians had the luminescent energy of Angels, and their eyes glowed with shards of ethereal colors. Humans could not detect these subtleties, which enabled us to live among them without notice. For that reason, we were forbidden to use our gifts in their presence lest we wipe their memories afterward—a gift reserved for leaders and those with high status within the clans.

  "Yeah … I noticed. Can you trace her?" The ability to follow a person's energy was another wizard gift—lucky bastard.

  Gabrihen stared at me in silence before answering. "Aye, but to what end? It was the human who took the sword."

  "She may know where to find the bloody thing."

  "Are you sure it's the sword you're after and not the fiery lass?"

  "Psh," I hissed. "She's not my type. I prefer tall blondes with nothing on their mind but pleasing me. Not some short Thai sprite with an attitude."

  "She seemed to like you well enough."

  I rubbed my jaw and peered at my battered face through a broken mirror. "I look forward to returning her affection."

  "What do you suppose she was doing tanglin' with a human male?"

  It was uncommon for Spirians to deal with humans on more than a casual level, and even more uncommon for an unmated female to be out on her own. Whoever she was, her clan was not from this area. "I don't know, but I intend to find out."

  Chapter 2

  Gabrihen dematerialized us back to the hotel room so we could pack. We were due back home in Washington to continue our training. I, on the other hand, wanted to find that sword. I had spent three summers tracking it down and didn't want to lose it now … not when I was so close.

  I looked down at my throbbing hand. The sword's edge had sliced it clean, but now the wound looked red and swollen. "Do you think your mum can heal this?"

  Gabrihen could reach out to his mother, Skye, telepathically over any distance, and she could tap his thoughts at any time, providing he did not keep them blocked. Skye was a skilled healer, revered as legendary among Spirians.

  Glancing over at me, Gabrihen folded another shirt. "Are ye sure ye want me to ask?"

  True. Revealing our predicament was not something I wanted to do. Khalen would have our heads for getting involved in a skirmish between a rogue Spirian and a human. As regional leader, he kept busy with upholding the laws, diffusing territorial battles, and out-strategizing our enemies, the Shadows.

  As I looked down at my palm, the wound started to heal. Skye must have sensed my request for her skills. Khalen would tap our thoughts as well, something regional leaders could do over any distance. He would want to know what had spurred his mate's healing instinct.

  Gabrihen watched as the wound on my hand healed completely. Knowing what would come next, he fetched his iPhone from his coat pocket and waited for it to ring. Khalen could have communicated to us telepathically, but using the phone required less energy.

  "Hello, Father."

  Khalen's calm British tone came through on the speaker, but I couldn't decipher the words.

  Gabrihen handed me the phone. "He wants to speak to you."

  Closing my eyes for a moment, I shook my head in defeat and reached for the phone. "Khalen."

  "Connor, dear boy. Is there something wrong with your phone?"

  "No, sir."

  "Care to tell me what happened with your hand? Skye said it was festering."

  Shit … shit … shit. Breathe, damn it. Slowing my panting, I struggled to organize my thoughts. Lying to our leader was not an option. He read intentions and would chastise me on the spot for even thinking to ruse him. "We ran into a bit of a problem at the antique shop."

  "Explain."

  I filled him in on the details, and then added, "We intend to trace the female and question her intentions."

  "I see." Silence … followed by more silence. "What is a lone female doing so far from her region?"

  "That is what we intend to discover."

  "I'll send Tarence to investigate the matter. For now, you and Gabrihen concentrate on returning home."

  "I would like to retrieve the sword. I'm so close now, it seems a shame to leave without it."

  More silence.

  "Please, Khalen, this is important to me."

  I heard the dulcet voice of his mate, Skye, in the background. She was a gifted healer, but her true power was the ability to sway Khalen's mind.

  "Very well, Connor. I don't need to remind you to stay out of trouble?"

  "No sir. I just want to find the sword, nothing more."

  He laughed as if amused with my decree. "Somehow, Connor, trouble seems to come in spades around you. Let me talk to Gabrihen, yes?"

  "Yes, sir." I handed the phone back to Gabrihen.

  "Father?"

  Gabrihen nodded, looked at me with glaring eyes, nodded again, and then pulled his lips into a firm tight line. "Yes, Father. I understand. Goodbye." He cleared the call before tossing the phone onto the bed.

  "That ended well," I said.

  The coldness in his expression lowered the temperature of the room by several degrees.

  "At least we can keep looking for the sword." I added my best cheesy smile in hopes of eliciting a warm reply.

  None came. He continued packing his clothes in silence, his expression stuck like stone. Like his father, his clothes were made of the finest material and treated like cloth of spun gold. I would be hard pressed to find a wrinkle in his attire.

  I glanced over at my pile of clothes on the bed, sprawled haphazardly where I'd left them. It would take nothing to cram them into my duffle bag as soon as we knew where to go.

  "Are you not talking to me now?" I asked.

  "Tell me again why we became friends?"

  "I'm fun to hang out with. I'm exciting, a magnet for hot chicks and … I can beat you in sparring."

  "When you're around, I find myself in nothing but trouble."

  I stood up from the bed and followed him into the bathroom while he collected his toiletries. "What are you talking about? We had a good two weeks of nothing but fun, women, and beach combing."

  He tossed his things into his ditty bag, shaking his head at the tube of toothpaste I'd used earlier. "Where's the bloody cap?"

  I rummaged through my pile of stuff on the counter, smiling when I found the encrusted cap under my mess of towels, underwear, and shaving cream.

  Grabbing it from my hand, he ran the thing under the faucet to clean the dried paste.

  "What has you in such a foul mood?"

  He held up the clean cap. "Ye mean besides stuff like this?" Screwing the cap back onto the tube, he added it to his bag.

  "Yeah."

  He marched back into the room and placed his ditty bag next to his shoes. The duffle looked like a well-stuffed cargo container with everything in its place. Using more force than necessary, he zipped the thing closed.

  "Father has made me responsible for what happens with you."

  We found the female at a local farmer's market. The bold little sprite had more than one talent. She stole food and money from unsuspecting vendors as if she were entitled to the stuff.

  "Charming," said Gabrihen. "This just gets better and better."

  "I'm sure she has her reasons. Not all of us have leaders whose net worth equals a mountain's weight in gold."

  With coordinated effort, we used a wrist lock maneuver to capture and usher her through the crowd like an unruly child. Once we were gone from the horde, she tried to break free—a feeble act against two strong males who were well-versed at joint locks. She didn't scream or yell out as we had expected. Gabrihen was prepared to cloak us if she had.

  Turning her to face me, I asked, "What is your name?"

 
She shook her head, her almond-shaped eyes black as coal. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but no words formed, just odd sounds and grunts.

  Gabrihen used sign language. "Are you deaf?"

  She nodded.

  Gabrihen asked her name.

  She glanced down at her hands that I held tight in my grip. The innocent look in her eyes convinced me she wouldn't try anything stupid if I allowed her to sign—wrong. The moment my restraint loosened, she twisted free and bolted through the crowd.

  Gabrihen and I took off after her. Given the length of our stride and sheer male power, we should have been able to catch her. She proved more swift and nimble than we thought. She wove through the people like a mouse in a maze. Gabrihen transported himself ahead in her path and shocked quite a few bystanders who struggled with the magic they witnessed.

  I grabbed the female. She twisted, kicked my upper thigh, and then landed a back fist to my face. It felt like a jack hammer, her sharp tiny knuckles like marbles against my nose.

  "Grab her," yelled Gabrihen.

  I dove for her legs, causing her to face plant on the grass. By now, a sizable crowd had formed around us. Not wanting to elicit more trouble, Gabrihen poofed us out of the area and into a vacant alley that offered more privacy. The feat would raise quite a stir among the crowd, but that couldn't be helped now. They would mumble about it, scratch their heads, and try their best to convince others of what they had witnessed. In time, the prattle would die down and the amazement would be forgotten—such was the way with humans.

  The woman coughed and gagged in reaction to the sudden transport. I took advantage of her temporary incapacitation and pinned her to the ground. She surprised me with a sharp kick to my groin and a jab to my throat. When Gabrihen reached for her, she spun around and planted a kick to his head. The blow left him loopy. By the time we recovered, she was gone.

  Chapter 3

  Hale's Ale House in Silverdale, Washington was Gabrihen's favorite chill spot. He'd poofed us home, but neither of us was ready to return to camp and the grueling exertions of heavy training. We sat at the far corner table, enjoying Hale's new IPA concoction. The brew tasted heavy and sweet with the robust flavor of wheat.