A New Light (The Astral Wanderer Book 1), D'Artagnan Rey [best romantic novels to read .TXT] 📗

“Not a realmer, no. I’ve met wildkin and even seen a fleuri—well, I think it was but I don’t remember if they are purple.”

“If they sprout in the winter, it is a possibility,” his companion told him, placed a hand on his chest, and extended the other arm as he bowed. “But I suppose I should introduce myself properly. My name is Vaust Lebatt, formerly an Archon of House…well, I suppose it doesn’t matter with it being formerly.” He stood and folded his arms. “I am more of a drifter now. Care to share something of yourself with me? What brings you here?”

Despite a little inward hesitation, the boy sheathed his blade. “My name is Devol Alouest, son of Victor and Lilli Alouest. I’m here because I’m on a journey to the Templar Order and this forest is on the path I was told to take.”

“The Templars?” Vaust questioned and stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Not many look for them these days. Usually, it is the other way around. What reason could you have to look for such people?”

He scratched his head and sifted through his memories. “Well, a couple of weeks ago, I was with my mother in the Emerald Forest outside Monleans, and a large dire wolf attacked us—the biggest I’ve seen in person.” He drew the sword again and held it up, and his reflection caught in the blade. “It immediately attacked us. I wanted to protect her but I had no weapon. I…well, something happened only moments before it struck. A flash of light almost blinded me, and I felt something or someone take my hand. When the light disappeared, the wolf was dead and I was holding this sword.”

Vaust studied the blade curiously and didn’t initially see anything of note. After a few moments, however, he saw it gleam— perhaps it had caught a beam of sunlight? He shook his head when he realized it was still in the shadow of the forest. The shimmer flared to a bright achromatic light, and it encompassed the blade before it grew to an uncomfortable glare and glowed around the edges of the blade.

It was magical, without a doubt, and it was not only for illumination. He could tell right away that the sword was far more than the standard exotic. When the boy looked at him, the sword still bright in his hand, Vaust nodded. “I see you have something special indeed,” he said, his voice almost a purr. “That, my young friend, is a majestic.”

Chapter Three

“It’s what?” Devol asked as the light faded from the sword.

“You’ve never heard of a majestic?” Vaust asked as he approached him. “Given your talent with Mana, I assumed you’d had some training… Well, that and the blade itself.”

“Oh yes, I have.” He lowered his sword and focused on the mori. “My mom taught me the basics of Mana, but this isn’t anything like what I’ve seen someone use before—at least outside some of my father’s comrades, and even they don’t talk to me much.” He looked at the weapon again and slid his hand over the flat surface of the blade. “And as I said, I’ve never seen this before it appeared a few weeks ago.”

The man considered this as he stared absently into the trees. “I suppose there is still something of a stigma attached to them in this realm.” He focused on his young companion again. “So you discovered this blade—which appeared magically out of nowhere in a time of need—and your first instinct was to go on an adventure to the Templar Order?”

Devol slipped his pack off. “It wasn’t my idea, to be honest,” he said as he rummaged through his belongings. “My parents suggested I go to the Templars and said it was important.” He took the folded map out and handed it to the mori. “They said a friend of my father’s gave this to him around the time I was born and after they had done a mission together or something like that. He said that if anything odd happens or they need a favor, to search them out.”

“Well, this certainly qualifies.” Vaust took the paper, opened it, and glanced casually at the map until something caught his eye. He frowned slightly as he registered a symbol on the bottom of the page that depicted a nine-pointed star. “This is…” he said, his voice almost a whisper. “Indeed, I most certainly see…” He folded the map again and handed it to him. “Tell me, Templar-hopeful. What do you hope to achieve once you reach the order?”

“Achieve?” the boy asked as he slid the map into his pack, flipped the top over, and tied it down. His face contorted in thought while his fingers were busy. “I…uh, I guess to learn more about this sword—or majestic, right?” He slung his backpack on. “Maybe get some more training in arms and things like that.”

“You have no desire to join the order?” the mori asked.

“I don’t know much about it,” Devol admitted and shrugged as if joining the order was a decision he could make later when he did know. “My father told me what he could. He said that at one point when he was young, he wanted to join the Templars. But even with that, he did not know much. He seems to trust his old friend, though, and said that this would be for the best and that I should trust their instruction.”

“It depends on the instructor,” his companion muttered. Although he’d spoken to himself, the boy's sharp ears caught it.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

The man gestured vaguely. “It’s merely my personal biases. Tell me, young man, would you like some company to their keep?”

He raised an eyebrow quizzically. “With who?”

Vaust rolled his eyes. “With me, obviously.”

“Really?” He gasped. “I thought you said you were this forest’s groundskeeper?”

Vaust was sorely tempted to slap either himself or the boy. “That was something of a metaphor. I was here on a mission to keep the