Legend of the Suns Read online

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  Part I

  Legend of the Suns

  JW Martin

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual events or to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without prior written consent from the author.

  Cover Art by Jon Aedyn King

  © 2015 JW Martin

  About the Author

  Jonathan lives in Belfast, Northern Ireland. He began writing at a young age, later crafting stories in his early teens inspired by the likes of Enid Blyton and the Point Horror series. His growing interest in both the natural and metaphysical worlds spurred investigation into mythology, astronomy, philosophy, wildlife and ancient cultures. He has also explored various healing and spiritual practices including meditation, Celtic mysticism, Reiki and Kundalini yoga. Recently he returned to writing fiction based upon his experiences. Legend of the Suns is his first novel.

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  Part I

  Legend of the Suns

  https://twitter.com/1111Lots

  Acknowledgements

  To all of my family and friends, for their unending support, encouragement and unwitting inspiration.

  Special thanks to Catherine Riches, who was there at the conception, Shelley Blair, Shirley McMichael and Emma Johnston for their instinctive faith and my sister Rachael Martin for her encouragement to pursue my dream.

  Additional thanks to Jon Aedyn King for his fitting artwork and to Jenni Allen for sharing in the woes and wonders of creative writing.

  ||:|| Part I – Legend of the Suns

  Earth is on the brink of change. A new Age is fast approaching. Some will seek the Light, others will fall into Shadow.

  Freja Freland, a brazen girl on the cusp of adulthood, arrives in Ireland from Norway with a copy of an ancient text known as the Legend of the Suns. There, she befriends a wayward witch named Cat and her shy friend Joel, a puzzling English girl named Sara and the troublesome Sol. As they begin to explore the Legend, their shared destiny is soon revealed.

  With others around the world preparing for the Shift, including the audacious Light Bearer Danny and the mystifying Monti, the new friends must learn to trust one another, using their abilities for good or bane. For Shadow Souls are also gathering pace and will stop at nothing to gain power.

  ||:||…signs are appearing.

  CONTENTS

  Prologue

  Chapter 1 – Emerald Isle

  Chapter 2 – Birds of Omen

  Chapter 3 – In Dreams Awaken Clues

  Chapter 4 – Bitter and Sweet

  Chapter 5 – Soul Kin

  Chapter 6 – Oracle

  Chapter 7 – Unearthing

  Chapter 8 – Full Moon Rising

  Chapter 9 – Hangover

  Chapter 10 – Tip of the Iceberg

  Chapter 11 – One for Sorrow, Two for Joy

  Chapter 12 – Disclosure

  Chapter 13 – Crystal Clear

  Chapter 14 – Intrusion

  Chapter 15 – Persuasion

  Chapter 16 – Chamber of the Codex

  Chapter 17 – Two of Swords

  Chapter 18 – Crystal Grid

  Chapter 19 – Atonement

  Chapter 20 – Ostara

  Chapter 21 – Bite Point

  Chapter 22 – Assemble

  Chapter 23 – Shadow and Light

  Chapter 24 – Dún Áine

  Chapter 25 - Rebirth

  Prologue

  Norway; Odda Municipality

  This is it. Freja Freland braced herself. Branches swayed and trees creaked, the forest sagging with the remnants of snow. She trembled, holding back an uncertain smile. Some birds broke the eerie silence, like the hush before a battle. The whispers of the Elders darted back and forth like frosty arrows. The darkest day would soon be upon them, the sun so low that it hid behind the white-capped mountains. A subtle fear had crept upon the small community, but now their collective energy felt invigorated, for the sun would presently be reborn, bringing with it strength and vitality.

  Freja glanced around, the huge ferns shrivelled and drooping, damp foliage wafting amongst the oaks more ancient than she could imagine. Through their wide trunks, she could see the mountain plateau divided by the icy fjord, an immense fissure in the land, as if the frost giants themselves had carved it out. Gushing white falls streaked noiselessly down to where tiny, wooden houses dotted the water’s edge; they sat almost in permanent shade now, mostly abandoned. She could just about see the bright vehicles of the emergency services, working to clear another landslide from the winding road.

  Freja closed her eyes, recalling memories of Thor splashing through a mountain stream, her childlike laughter faintly echoing. He gave chase over soft grass and they collapsed, in licks and rolls, on alpine flowers, the sun beating down. Two blackbirds landed by their side, chirping and pecking with their bright beaks. She sprawled out and felt the deep connection with her beloved animals and the land, with everything.

  “Vi ma begynne!” We must begin, said one man, scattering her nostalgia. Freja stood in the centre of a large heptagram, carved in muddy snow, watching the others swiftly form a circle around her. She counted eleven in total, dressed in similar garb. A lofty female, well aged, stood to the North beside a giant boulder. Her black candle emitted a strong glow, encased by glass. Runic symbols dotted the lining of her emerald green robe and headdress: Angrboda, the eldest priestess of their Kindred.

  Freja inhaled the aroma of soaked bark and an incense of woody herbs. She watched, through the mist of her breath, as Angrboda raised two hands, heavily lined yet nimble. She plunged a gem-encrusted athame into the soil, proclaiming: “Earth!” A rabbit scampered into some bushes.

  To her left, in the East, another Elder produced sticks of incense from his pastel yellow garment, declaring: “Air!” Birds flew from a nearby Spruce. Then, to the West, a third Elder in azure blue raised a decorated chalice to the skies, which Freja knew had been left overnight to gather ice-melt.

  “Water!” she said, sending a frog plopping into a nearby stream.

  Finally, in the South, another distinguished Elder in scarlet robes, also depicting the Runes, presented a plump red candle. Its flame impossibly defied the breeze. “Fire!” he said and Freja heard swift paws dash into the woods; she suspected a wolf or maybe a deer, depending on the power animal called by the priest Baldur.

  The others stood like marble pillars, poised and pointing their quartz crystal wands inward and Freja could already sense the buzz of energy.

  “Ásynjur, we call to you!” they said, in unison, “we invoke your guidance and protection!” An icy breeze whipped around the circle but disturbed none.

  She must have looked superior, surrounded by the others, like a precious jewel within a ring yet bubbling emotions threatened to undermine her composure. Every muscle in her body seemed to tense. More memories crowded her mind, like the first time she’d witnessed her mum use a healing incantation to rid her of septicaemia. The time her grandmother relayed the story of Earth’s secret past like an elaborate saga. And her adolescent years, being trained and instructed on mystical arts and skills with Baldur and Angrboda. She would truly miss all of them, but she had her own story to follow now, her own teachings to impart and destiny to fulfil.

  “Invoke the Blessings!” said Baldur, brusque again and sparking a chorus of lowly chanting.

  “Al-giz! Aa-waz!” The old words rang out as one, creating a harmonious resonance that s
eemed to fill the forest. Freja closed her eyes again, concentrating on raising the cardinal energy from the base of her spine just liked she’d been practising. The mounting vibrations seemed to prick her skin, like static, the heady incense washing over her in waves and the reverberating chant exciting her eardrums

  “Al-giz! Aa-waz! Al-giz! Aa-waz!” The group continued, now a gentle backing mantra, as Angrboda’s voice took precedence.

  “Guardians lend us your sight; guide our chosen one to those reborn!”

  At that moment Freja heard several birds flutter from the surrounding trees. She remained centred and still, as if oblivious to their presence. The ruffling of feathers came close; strangely they did not all seem native, a few even contrary to the season. She heard the harsh cackling of the sparrowhawk, a singing skylark and a sparrow, dancing on the crunchy snow. An owl perched nearby and a rook, with its low kaah. Then another circled above her, the high and rapid kee-kee-kee of the peregrine falcon. In the darkness of her mind, another winged creature took recognisable shape, unfurling its grand and flaming wings – the phoenix. In a brief moment, it seemed to entwine with her soul.

  Angrboda sustained the ritual and Freja imagined her standing with great aplomb and radiance. “The Quickening begins, the time to fulfil, empower and send forth, by thy will!”

  Baldur spoke next, creating a playful balance between the male and female energies. “The new Sun approaches, the time of rebirth! Guardians we call to you!” Then, as if part of some orchestrated performance, the birds flew into the circle for Freja could hear them landing around her, one by one. A flash of white light seemed to illuminate her darkness, followed by a prolonged and ominous rumble – an unscripted part of the proceedings. She squeezed her eyes tighter, trying to concentrate on raising the energy.

  “They’re coming,” said a lady, firmly; her grandmother, Elina.

  “The time is now, so mote it be!” said Baldur, prompting.

  “The time is now, so mote it be!” They group recited with alacrity and Freja felt the spiky energy of their crystal wands rising up her body. The breeze morphed into a howling wind, scraping at her face like icy sandpaper, tossing her clothes wildly yet the birds remained.

  Then it came. The kundalini force, erupting from the base of her spine, surging up through her like a fountain. Her lower back ached briefly and she gasped, uncontrollably, fingers springing outward and head flinging back. She tried not to fear the force, to fear its potential to obliterate her sanity, but she knew the Elders would help to temper it for now. She pressed her feet into the cold earth, imagining her own roots extending deep in the soil beneath, held firmly by the Great Mother. The orgasmic sensation rippled through her every nerve like a tsunami. Her senses felt immediately heightened, her body as light as air and her mind fully awakened, as if she understood everything about herself in that one moment. The raging winds pulled at her hair, as she inhaled the power and relished in its splendour. Then it had gone.

  “Praise to the Most High Ones. May they be with us, now and forever!” Angrboda said. The wind raged and Freja opened her eyes to the heavens before looking down to see Angrboda, crouched in meditation, her hands firmly gripping the athame like an anchor in the Earth, preventing the storm from sweeping her away.

  The menacing disturbance came once more, closer now. The circle held its place, as the thunder god put on a light show across the ashen skies. A blinding bolt ripped its way down toward them and Freja barely had time to evade. But the magical intent of the Elders sent the assault rebounding from a hidden force-field.

  The birds took flight. In an instant, stillness fell upon the forest and it felt unsettling after the climax and commotion. Freja gripped a torque-like necklace on her chest, made from knotted strands of silver with an embossed Yggdrasil and gems of lapis lazuli and atlantasite. Each stone featured a different rune, their collective power surging through, charging her chakras like batteries until her whole being felt alive with its potent energy.

  The others began scurrying around like busy squirrels. Her eyes readjusted to the light and Elina rushed over, Baldur following with a stern look. Elina gave her a hug, which she normally adored, but it felt somewhat intrusive now. She imagined her chakras wide open, like summer flowers. The tingling continued to drain from her body and she pulled back.

  “How was it? Are you okay?” Elina asked.

  “She’ll be fine,” said Angrboda, with a more reassuring smile, as a middle-aged couple approached.

  “I’m okay, nana, really.” She turned to her parents. “It was – exhilarating, mum! Like nothing I’ve ever felt before!”

  “I’m sure,” she said, forcing a smile. And all too soon the rapturous energy dissipated and Freja wilted inside.

  “You’ll have to go now, we can’t wait any longer,” said Baldur, sounding as grave as ever.

  “Do you have everything?” A familiar hand gripped her shoulder, a second man towering over her, with an anxious smile, but his stature evoked only feelings of safety and love.

  “Yeah, I think so, dad.”

  Baldur removed a large book from his robes, brown leather with bulging pages, bound by a strap with sun-spirals decorating the cover.

  “I know you’ll keep this safe, Freja,” he said. His dark eyes bore into her but she retained contact, knowing it would help to ease any of his reservations.

  “Of course I will.” She took the book with both hands, reading the cracked lettering on the cover for what seemed like the millionth time: Legende av Solens - Legend of the Suns.

  The peregrine falcon circled overhead and Freja squinted up at her new avian guardian, hugging the dense tome to her chest. “I wish I didn’t have to go.”

  Her dad rubbed her back. “We all do, but it’s just not safe for you here now, they’ll only keep coming back. Besides, your nana’ll take good care of you.”

  “Everything’s in place, my dear, don’t fret,” Elina said, clinching her hand. Freja watched the others disappear into the maze of trees. She wouldn’t cry, she’d promised herself. Then her eyes fell upon her parents, pulling back from hugs with Elina; she didn’t know when they’d meet again. A lump swelled in her throat and she handed the book to her nana.

  “You’re so brave, Freja,” said her dad. “And we’re so proud of you.” He went in for a bear-hug, the kind that always made her feel deeply protected – a feeling she wished could last forever. They parted and he held her shoulders, his tone quite profound. “You already have everything you need,” he said, leaning close to whisper. “It’s all inside of you. Remember?” He smirked and she nodded, wary that any vigorous movement might send tears tumbling down her cheeks. “Love you.”

  “Love you too, dad, always.” She turned to her mum, who finally yielded and gave her brief reassurance and a tight hug, as if it might somehow leave an imprint of her affection. But Freja already held that in her heart.

  “Be well,” Baldur said, clasping his chubby hands.

  “And Blessed Be,” said Angrboda, the wrinkles around her mouth vanishing as she smiled. A round of “blessed be well’s” chimed briskly and then Elina took her hand and whisked her through the white forest. As they ran, she had to glance back, just once. And the tears fell.

  CHAPTER 1

  Emerald Isle

  Northern Ireland; Belfast

  A worn rucksack skidded across the ground. The top flung open, books and a lunchbox tumbling over puddles. Joel Silva scrambled to collect them, thinking how ridiculous he must have looked. A cacophony of jeers rose up, muffled by the blood gushing through his head. His heart followed a rapid drumbeat, his stomach twisted in a hundred little knots and his brain instructing him to run.

  “Ooh, look all his gay books! Astrology!” said one boy, stirring more taunts. With scarlet cheeks, Joel stood to face them – on legs made of nothing more than tissue, it seemed. The same old ‘why me?’ questions swirled around his mind, like the litter with which the wind now played. A magpie scavenged by the bin but he c
ould see no one in sight, no one to help or intervene.

  “Oi, Joelina, over here!” The second boy clicked bony fingers in his face, regaining his attention. Dee Burns had to be the epitome of everything Joel despised about his peers, pretentious and belligerent, with the social status of Head Boy, enviable good looks and a loftiness that allowed him to defy almost every teacher.

  A third and slightly older boy stood close by, smoking a roll-up and calmly observing. Joel knew him only as Sol; a friend of Dee’s who’d been loitering around their school of late. He stepped closer, casual clothes stinking of smoke and frosty blue eyes that drilled into Joel.

  “You got something to say?” He had more of a southern Irish droll. Joel looked away but felt like screaming his true sentiments. His abdomen braced for the inevitable blow when the brassy voice of a girl finally interrupted.

  “Oh-my-God!”

  All heads turned.

  “And Goddess!” Catherine McKeown stood before them, a small, rather stout girl with sandy brown skin and a feisty expression, her spiralled black hair twisting in the wind.

  “Oh aye!” said the mocking boy, “it’s the wee wannabe girlfriend to the rescue, again!”

  Sol glanced over his shoulder. “Bugger off, midget!”