The Resilient: Resisting Urban Dystopia

THE RESILIENT

Resisting Urban Dystopia

BRAEDAN LALOR

Creative Conflict Book Publishing

Penticton, British Columbia

When the mind is strong, the body has no choice

____________________

First off, Alastar shifted into tactical mode. We need to get Sophia some ice so that her eyes don’t swell shut. She’s no good to us blind — so let’s go.

Alastar led both girls to the infirmary, which was conveniently located next to Callistan’s lab. Alastar studied the lab’s exterior defenses. The chain link fence was about nine feet tall with an extra foot and a half of razor wire on top — great round loops of the stuff. Nobody could climb over that and keep all of their parts attached.

He took visual measurements of the building, and the neighboring infirmary as well. The two buildings weren’t that close, not really, but they were definitely clustered together in a general sense.

____________________

Praise For The Resilient and The Fatherless

Excellent. Big action, well crafted for young adult and older readers. Definitely recommended.

—Mark McKenzie

Unpredictable and action packed— Very much look forward to reading the next book in the series.

—Rob Adams

A fearsome first novel from a compelling new voice. Read it.

—Stephen Small

____________________

Not every battle is endurable.

Covert elements seek to undermine Alastar, Sophia, and Demsie’s alliance — and an occult sect known as the Wandandans have entered into the fray having an effect on Alastar’s well being that only people with Sophia and Demsie’s unique skills, can detect.


There is friction in the group but choice remains. Heists and conflicts, stealth and tactical assaults reveal a white-knuckle mystery of human will and resilience — even though the scenario is gamed against them.

This urban dystopia young adult war will introduce you to characters made real by a struggle so immediate — that spirit, resolve, and the choice to survive will speak to deeper truths.

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Books by Braedan Lalor

Covert Existence Series:

TheFatherless

TheResilient

TheBreakable

Covert Existence Related:

DystopiaNow

Copyright © 2018 by Braedan Lalor

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.

Creative Conflict Book Publishing

British Columbia, Canada

http://www.BraedanLalor.com

Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

Cover Artist:  Joan Lalor

Image Credits:  Ryan McGuire, Pezibear, 35393 pixabay

Book Layout © 2015 BookDesignTemplates.com

The Fatherless/ Braedan Lalor. – 1st ed. epub

ISBN978-1-7752743-7-7

Dedication:

To Matson, my Alpha reader whose sober judgment and rational feedback will forever be of value to me. Thanks for daring to live the adventures that most only read about. The Renaissance could not have created such a complete individual and I am humbled to have had a hand in mentoring you.

Keep your powder dry, your blade sharp, and an empty hand — you are certain to find your way.

Foreword

Welcome to these pages. I am sincerely grateful to everyone who takes the time to read the Covert existence series. The books of the Covert Existence series are certainly fiction, but they are also more than mere make believe. While they are shamelessly adventurous they are also deeply reflective of the world that the author sees, in all of its wonders and decay.

I have tried to summon from the earth characters that breath and speak, and laugh and scream in bigger than life scenes, which are as improbable as they are relatable. May it all be towards a purpose though — lest my writings be mere fancy and no longer worth your time or mine. While I believe strongly in the sanctity of entertainment and purification through escape, when one could also have insight, inspiration, and thought as well — why wouldn’t we engorge ourselves of all of it? Those latter things are just as urgently needed in my view.

Look around, Reader. We live in a fallen world, but by no means a hopeless one. It is my wish that these tales of intrigue and survival might become beacons of hope and roadmaps to redemption — as well as sober warnings of many things that we hope will never come to pass.

On a side note, don’t blame me if a disproportionate number of the women are beautiful, my characters are exceedingly adept, the conflict uncanny, or if the villains are bleeding style.

That’s just the way I care to see the world.

It is a rough road that leads to the heights of greatness.

—Lucius Annaeus Seneca

No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it is not the same river and he is not the same man.

—Heraclitus

"Friendship is unnecessary, like art —

It has no survival value;

rather it is one of those things that gives value to survival."

—C.S. Lewis

Live as brave men; and if fortune is adverse, front its blows with brave hearts.

—Marcus Tullius Cicero

CONTENTS

ONE      1

TWO      9

THREE      15

FOUR      31

FIVE      39

SIX      53

SEVEN      59

EIGHT      65

NINE      83

TEN      87

ELEVEN      97

TWELVE      105

THIRTEEN      115

FOURTEEN      125

FIFTEEN      133

SIXTEEN      147

SEVENTEEN      153

EIGHTEEN      161

NINETEEN      169

TWENTY      177

TWENTY ONE      187

TWENTY TWO      193

TWENTY THREE      201

TWENTY FOUR      215

TWENTY FIVE      225

TWENTY SIX      231

TWENTY SEVEN      237

TWENTY EIGHT      249

TWENTY NINE      255

THIRTY      261

THIRTY ONE      267

THIRTY TWO      277

THIRTY THREE      285

THIRTY FOUR      295

THIRTY FIVE      297

Chapter 1

ONE

An impossible decision, really.

He’d seen movies where the hero was in a similar situation.

Forced to make a choice.

Save one damsel and let the other girl plummet to her death? Or save the second and the first one dies instead. Ridiculous fiction. Did real life ever offer any true choices?

Alastar clenched his knife blade between his teeth, and leapt off the edge of the cliff. The cold mountain air rushed up towards him, from the vast cubic meters of empty space below.

As he was jumping Alastar wondered whether the decision that he had just made, would turn out to be suicide. The way that he saw it though, there was a point where all legends come to an end. And judging from the stories that Alastar had read, legends usually ended bloody.

The wind felt alive on his skin. It had been six days now that he had been engaged in this game, which meant that it was six days since Alastar had slept. Could that have affected his decision to jump? Most likely it would go down in Station history as a poor one. Unassisted and uncontrolled aerial descents off of shear cliffs were rarely spoken of as ending well.

A smarter person might have simply turned and walked back to his Pod for a nap, not caring if either of the girls died. Instead of that though, Alastar was jumping off of a cliff above a series of falls that the Station residents all called, the Greedy Glutton. This abomination of a water system had been named, partially because fall’s anatomy vaguely resembled the human digestive tract, but not only that. The name had also been given because when the Glutton shat anybody out, they were just that — worth shit.

Speaking of shit, even from a distance Alastar could enjoy the look of shock that for the moment, was smeared across Butter’s face. He had engineered Alastar’s moral dilemma very carefully, and he was clearly disappointed by Alastar’s complete unwillingness to play along. Even if Alastar should have ended up dead in the next thirty-five seconds, seeing the stunned look on Butter’s jowly face would have made it all worthwhile.

Butter and his small cadre of eighteeners had taken significant efforts to abduct Sophia and Demsie on what would be the group’s last exercise before they all graduated from the Station. It was a graduation that was scheduled for the day after tomorrow. All of Butter’s planning, and all of Butter’s efforts, were supposed to culminate in the age old dilemma — Should the hero save the blond, or the brunette?

That must have been how Butter had imagined it when he had strung the girl’s up, bound them in ropes and suspended them above the long tube-like esophagus of Greedy Glutton. The two oracles were hanging from long ropes, dangling low and unreachable in Greedy Glutton’s throat. And like proper old-fashioned villains, Butter and his allies had run each oracle’s supporting rope, over jutted tree branches and then anchored them to opposite sides of the Glutton’s cliff walls. That was the detail that made it impossible for Alastar to reach both ropes at the same time.

Then, underneath each girl’s rope they had lit a fire, which they ignited only when Alastar came into view. The bastards had planned the moment to perfection. Alastar had been trailing Butter’s crew for days so they knew the exact direction that he would be descending from. But Alastar refused to play their game.

It was a well chosen location for their trap. Everybody knew that the only place to cross from one side of the esophagus to the other side, was at the very top. Which was where Alastar had been standing, just before he jumped. No doubt, Butter saw Alastar climbing down one side of the esophagus and then putting out just one fire, saving one girl while the other watched him with hostile eyes and a broken heart. Graduating or not though, Butter had been I to think that he could ever force the hand of a Legend.

As Alastar rocketed towards the earth, he pulled his coat sleeves over his hands.

Poised like a descending raptor, he flew almost twenty feet before he reached the ropes, accelerating at nine point eight meters per second, squared. Reaching out his hands, Alastar made a grab for both of the lines, pulling each rope towards the other with the muscles of his chest, and gripping them as hard as he could. During that moment Alastar felt like he was gripping a band saw. Even through the thick cotton sleeves of his jacket, he could feel the heat, but he held onto the ropes anyways, knowing only that he had to slow his descent. His hands were not enough though, there needed to be more friction. Still falling fast Alastar stretched out his body, kicking to hook one of the lines with his foot.

Eventually there was a small success. With only ten feet of rope left before he would end up striking the bound up girls in the head, Alastar managed to wrap his legs around the rope that was on his left.

Squeezing tight, his pants disintegrated almost instantly and the rope cut into several parts of his legs, but it did slow his momentum to a manageable level. Alastar managed to stop himself. It was good news, but not great. Now all three of them were strung up above the icy waters of the Glutton, but the way that he saw it, at least they were together.

Holding himself in place with his legs, Alastar took the knife from his teeth and cut the ropes from Sophia’s hands. The oracle squealed as the knife blade tore at the back of her wrist.

It would heal, easier than death anyways.

Grab her! It was a battlefield order that Alastar issued, and Sophia did as she was told instantly, without questioning. She reached out and held onto Demsie as Alastar cut away the rope that suspended Sophia from the tree branch above. It cut as easily as a thread because the line wasn’t thick, and Alastar’s knife was always razor sharp. In fact the fibers surrendered after a couple of firm strokes. After that, all three of them were dangling from only Demsie’s rope.

Demsie’s rope that was rapidly burning at the top.

Alastar glanced toward Sophia, to make sure that his ally was secure. Her dark eyes were wide with fear, but she seemed to have a good grip on her friend. Demsie on the other hand, was laughing frenetically and the fingers of her bound hands seemed to be pulling pointlessly at the seam of Sophia’s jacket.

It was as good as it was likely to get, so Alastar began to climb up the rope. If he could reach the tree branch in time, it might provide them with some options which didn’t involve being digested by the mountain.

Alastar was a fast climber and his raw rope-burned hands were serving him well enough to make the assent. And he most likely would have gotten to the top in time, if Butter and his cronies hadn’t launched a formidable barrage of rocks, that began raining down onto them. After Alastar heard Demsie cry out in pain from below him, and Alastar was struck with a softball sized rock to the shoulder, he realized that his leanlnal plan had to be scrapped. They were far too exposed, too vulnerable literally hanging where they were.

So before any more rocks could strike home and cause permanent damage to his girls, Alastar reached up with his knife and cut away the rope that was suspending all three of them.

Below him, Sophia and Demsie screamed.

Falling the ten meters into the stomach wasn’t the worrisome part, it was what happened once they were inside the stomach that would determine their fates. Alastar needed to get himself back into contact with his oracles and there was about twenty-five feet of rope that separated them. Although Sophia’s hands were free, her feet were still tied up and swimming the rapids with bound feet would have been impossible for anyone. Even worse, Demsie was still completely trussed up like a pig on a spit.

It was an interesting predicament, tactically speaking. Although he would have no time to enjoy it, the challenge offered something completely new for Alastar’s mind to consider. Everything about Greedy Glutton’s stomach pulled downwards. It was a large bowl shaped basin that had swirling undercurrents in it that no one in Station history had ever overcome. Alastar knew that no matter what, the three of them were going to circle that drain a couple times and then get sucked down through the duodenum. He had seen it happen in the past. Although the stomach’s pull was going to be hard to deny, Alastar was just hoping to be ready for when they entered into the bone crushing hairpin bends of the small intestine.

Icy cold water washed over him as he plunged. No sooner had Alastar broken the water’s surface, than he reached out his limbs spread eagle, to limit the depth that he might descend to. Limiting his depth would buy him time which he would definitely need to make contact with the girls. Alastar had been watching as his allies fell, and he knew that he couldn’t have ended up too far from them.

After his entry the sound of rumbling waters mixed with the eerie quiet of being submerged, filled Alastar’s ears. In one hand, he kept a tight grip on the thin rope that served as a lifeline for his girls. If there had been less rope or more time, Alastar would have simply reeled his oracles in. As it was though, he knew that he was going to have to try going directly towards them, through the circling current. Luckily the mountain water was clear, so he was able to see the girls floating high and to his right. They were in that spot for just for a moment. Alastar also saw his rope, reaching up in a curved path that extended towards them through the whirling waters.

Alastar knew that swimming in that direction would be foolish. By the time he got there, the currents would have sucked his allies somewhere else. So Alastar swam upwards as he carefully watched the motion of the many small particles and bubbles that inhabited that water. Their movements told him a story.

After hearing briefly what the bubbles had to say Alastar swam as hard as he could, upwards and towards his left. Only seconds later he was struck by the combined mass of his two allies and felt immediately fortunate that he had guessed right.

Alastar wasted no time in cutting Demsie’s hands free, and then Sophia’s feet. As Alastar sliced through those ropes, he was aware that their inevitable entry into the duodenum was looming incredibly close. There was still one more thing that Alastar needed to do though, before they got sucked through the shoot.

Alastar wrapped the girls with both of his legs and used his hands to tie three quick knots into the far end of the rope. Alastar had only just gotten it tied before he felt himself getting accelerated downward, through the rocky shoot.

It was actually a fairly smooth ride downwards, right up until the three of them got spit up into the air as everyone always did, before landing in the angry rocks and rapids of the small intestine. Alastar knew that Butter and his allies would be watching that location, expecting to see them breach the surface there. Everybody did. That short flight out of the duodenum into the small intestine was about the only predictable part of Greedy Glutton’s digestive tract, which was why Alastar had studied the place as a sevener.

When he had been seven years old, Alastar had found a couple places where a person might possibly snag a rope between some teeth-like rocks. So when Alastar and his girls popped out into the air, the Legend was ready to release his knotted rope and take his chances.

With one hand, he held onto the back of Demsie’s coat. With his other hand, he threw the rope the six or seven feet that it needed to be tossed, in order to land the knots just behind a crack between two jutting rocks

Alastar’s throw was precise and afterwards he felt the rope bit into the rocks, jerking him against the current just as the waters took hold of the three of them. Unfortunately, the current’s grip was unbelievably strong and he lost his hold on Demsie’s jacket.

Water surrounded him so quickly that it threatened to push him under, but Alastar knew to angle his body upwards as though he was water skiing on his belly, above the current. Straining, he pulled hand over hand on his thin rope, towards the rocks that anchored him to land. In his mind Alastar started a countdown. For the time being, Demsie and Sophia were at the total mercy of the Glutton, trapped in one of its fiercest sections. In Alastar’s mind, he made an estimate for how long the two of them might be able to survive.

He kept pulling towards shore. It was exhausting getting there, but once Alastar had achieved a handhold on the rock, he pulled his body free from the grasp of the icy waters. Rest would have been welcome but Alastar had no time to lose. He ripped off his jacket and then yanked down his pants. Then the young operative tied the clothing securely together to make a clothing rope.

He found that his hands were clumsy while he worked, both due to his injuries and from the cold. The knots that his Station instructors had forced him to learn were second nature to him though, and he felt the rope was sound. Once satisfied by the makeshift line, he looped it around the real rope, which was still anchored tightly into the teeth. It wasn’t a perfect situation, but Alastar had to trust because that line was his only connection to the drowning oracles downstream.

Alastar knew that he had no chance at all of pulling the girls up against the strong current, but maybe he would be able to pull them sideways. That was why he had looped the clothing rope around the real rope. Alastar picked his way downriver along the narrow shore, holding both ends of his makeshift rope as it slid along the thin line, bringing him gradually closer to Sophia and Demsie.

The countdown in Alastar’s head told him that he was taking far too long, but the shoreline was treacherous and the tug of the rope that Alastar held was almost pulling him back into the icy churn. By the time he had travelled twenty-five feet downriver, pulling sideways the whole time against the weight of the current, he wondered if he had made the wrong decision. It might have been easier for everyone to have simply let Butter’s allies brain them during their barrage of rocks. The outcome could easily end up being the same.

Then Alastar gave a tug and saw Demsie for a moment. It was a relief to see. As he was pulling sideways drawing the blond oracle towards the bank, Alastar began wondering whether Sophia had been able to hang onto the line as well. Now that he could see the current’s effect on Demsie, Alastar had a better idea how intense it was in there. Despite exhaustion, he kept reeling in the line, but there was still no sight of Sophia.

A storm of anger seemed to brew in Alastar’s heart as he considered his allies’ pointless loss, but then suddenly his brunette popped to the surface. Demsie had a hold of her but both girls appeared white with cold.

Alastar pulled them sideways through the current as hard as he could, hoping that his clothing rope wouldn’t tear. He needn’t have worried though. When the girls got closer to shore and reached a shallow backwater, which pushed them right towards Alastar. Demsie’s ice blue eyes were focused on him. She wasn’t laughing anymore, in fact looked entirely exhausted.

Sophia was unconscious when Alastar dragged her up onto the stony ledge that was the Glutton’s narrow shore. Both girls had been banged all to hell. Alastar pulled both of them onto the rocks and quickly cut away most of their clothes. He did it as rapidly as he could, looking for signs of life threatening injuries. Demsie seemed to have fractured her kneecap and Sophia had fractured some ribs. The two of them were generally banged up enough that there would soon be bruises in most places on their bodies, but the injuries that they had sustained, seemed survivable.

Once he had triaged the girl’s and decided that they would be all right, Alastar readied himself for Butter and his friends, in case they decided to visit. This time though, Alastar planned for the meeting to be different than Butter and his allies had become used to, over the last six days. Since this game had begun, whenever they had met Butter had been in possession of Alastar’s oracles, which was limiting to Alastar’s tactical options. For every engagement over the last few days, Butter had been the one dictating the terms of the conflict, and Alastar had been forced to be extra cautious. But that was then, and the rules of the hunt had changed. Alastar had his allies back. Looking around, it also seemed that Alastar held a defensible position there on the Glutton’s shore. Although he was tired and hurt, he found himself hoping that Butter and his allies would be foolish enough to come by and try him.

Soon Butter would have to choose. Butter would either choose to be the killer that he deeply wanted to see himself as, or retreat now that it wasn’t a completely lopsided fight. It was fitting, because after all, wasn’t his game all about choices? Alastar would be more than ready to respond to whatever decision Butter made.

____________________

He had almost wanted to clap when he saw the brash young boy swan diving off of that precipice, and better yet, he knew that the boy was doing it all for the life of one oracle. It was fascinating. For all the centuries past, the man had no doubt that if any of the killers were given a similar choice, one of those oracles would be dead every time. Not this time though. Perhaps there was something new under the sun. The COD was a forceful one. He was willful, stubborn, egocentric and too brash by far.

The old man laughed. If only it could be different, but the boy was far too important, as was at least one of those girls. How very much seemed to rest upon the deeds of the young, and these ones were young as a song. What song might they sing to the world, and would they even get their chance to sing it?

The prisoners deserved their songs. It was all the autonomy they could expect as long as the countries and their citizens were rattling around in their chains. Perhaps the songs of the young could make the people happy for a while. Whatever made a happy planet, poor prisoners.

The young, the young, the so very young. He had been young once too. Both of them had. What song had they sung? The old man blushed with shame as he heard it in the dark cellars of his spirit.

There would always be some shame. So long as there is breath it would be so, but whatever of redemption?

Chapter 2

TWO

That night, after Alastar and the girls had literally limped into their Pod, he had become so tired that it was as though sleep had mugged him and taken him hostage. The three of them had been lucky to make it back to Pod at all; they could have easily been stuck in the woods all night. Late in the day, a transport truck happened by though, after they had been walking for several hours, and the three of them were able to hitch a ride for the rest of the way.

Once they had gotten back to Pod, the three of them elected to eat first and then sleep, putting off the inevitable visit to the Station doctors for the next day. We’re staying with you tonight, Alastar. Sophia said, as her and Demsie followed him back to his barracks. When they got there, the oracles fell onto Alastar’s bed like both their hearts had suddenly stopped.

Alastar at least took his boots and his dirty clothes off. Many exhausted nights had passed and many dreams had filled Alastar’s sleep over the twelve long years of his life. But the dream that he had that night, in the security of his darkened barracks on a crowded mattress between two damp oracles, Alastar would remember for years.

Darkened silence turned to thoughts, and his thoughts took the slow shapes of quiet imaginings. Then Alastar found himself walking along a lit trail on a path of utter dark. He was walking through time.

The Beatles were breaking up, that was a sad time for so many. A few more steps forward and the Watergate investigations began, with all the pompous indignation that a hill full of liars could conjure, with lamps shining hot upon their jowly faces. The trail snaked onward, and Alastar found himself walking past the conclusion, that so many had waited for. The USA was pulling out of Vietnam.

There were people cheering and weeping, but they were all wearing shackles. Why? Ahead, a man making a speech. What? Nixon had resigned. That had been just a few years ago. Alastar had learned of it in class. He craned his head sideways as he continued forward not wanting to miss the killings, because Cambodia had begun bleeding. That didn’t last long though. Just a few steps further and a young Soviet girl wowed the world by scoring a perfect ten. Gold was hung around her neck and in that moment she seemed happy, but not overly so.

The trail wound forward, wherever would it take him? Alastar noticed that there was an absent robotic sort of quality to his steps. Strange, walking this trail felt so strange to him. To him it seemed as though he was walking in a dream. A dream. Yes. Alastar was walking in a dream, and now he recognized it.

It was the realization of that which woke him up, inside. The thought was like an electric bulb had been turned on in his head. But the electric bulb didn’t disturb his sleep, not at all. Instead, it woke him inside his dream because the state of his body was far too exhausted to wake. For the first time in his life, Alastar woke up into a state where he was fully aware in his dream, and entirely lucid.

Stop.

He told himself to stop walking, and he did stop.

Go. He began moving again. It was a lucid dream. Then Alastar chose to look up towards the sky, and his vision penetrated high into the starless black mystery that was above him. Alastar felt full control of his dream, and it was exhilarating.

Beside him was the passage of history. At his feet he could see the dirt of the trail, but whenever he tried looking straight ahead, there was nothing but blackness.

Curious.

Alastar focused once again upon the trail, and he wondered how with all of the darkness around him, his path was lit up and easily visible. He had been taught that dreams could be like that though. Sophia had explained some of it to him. She said that dreams were often quirky, and filled with inconsistencies. Dreams were places with symbols, and meanings upon meanings laced with subtle clues, which could reveal small mysteries.

They had covered it all in class once when Alastar was a tenner, but not nearly as much as the oracles did. So many of the ancient books and histories spoke of prophets who were dreamers. For centuries, kingdoms were said to rise and fall upon the words of those dream seers, but to have any use to their kings, those prophets needed to be adept at interpretation as well. Alastar had read that the mysteries contained in a man’s dreams were a call to that dreamer, an invitation from God to unravel their secrets and to unlock their symbols. Alastar wasn’t sure if he believed any of it, but the sensation of walking around inside this dream was far too surreal not to be enjoyable.

On the trail up ahead, Alastar saw just the sort of symbol that the ancient books might have referred to. It was a symbol that was calling out to him, daring Alastar to attempt to discern it’s meaning.

Ahead of him he saw two giant brass hourglasses, and another bronze one, just as big. Each hourglass was about four feet tall, with four small legs supporting each of them. Alastar watched as fine white sand streamed from the upper chamber of funneled glass, down into the chamber below.

Etched into the metal, were large letters that spelled paratus. Alastar knew Latin word for what it was — paratus meant preparation. He watched for a long while as the grains of sand fell, sifting down to the last grain. Once the hourglass’s upper chamber was empty, Alastar turned away and continued down the path.

As he walked, Alastar looked closely at the small portion of the trail that was visible to him. His trail seemed to be leading him on an aimless course as it wound it’s way through this strange blind land.

Alastar had just begun to wonder if there was any reason for all of that darkness, when the trail changed suddenly. His path stood divided. Sophia would have told him that it was yet another symbol.

From what he remembered, when dreams showed you a fork in the road, it could mean a decision.

A choice.

Alastar felt a shimmer of excitement as he moved toward the place where the pathway split. His senses seemed to become heightened, the closer he got. Was it in anticipation of the choice? Alastar was feeling a genuine thrill as he thought about the risks and the challenges that each choice might represent.

Why was he so excited?

Alastar studied both pathways. The one path looked like a clean trail, sloped down at a twenty percent grade while the higher road angled steeply upward. The high road appeared to be the more difficult path. It had loose rocks and gravel that could trip a person up, and overhanging vegetation that a traveller would have to fight through. Alastar looked again at the easy trail, angling downward, and then he took a step in that direction.

Immediately, a forceful sensation halted him mid stride. Alastar felt himself being grabbed by hard power. Pure power. It was a hot power that felt like control to him, it felt like dominance. The power swept over him and through him. It didn’t feel like an assault, it felt like a gift. In that moment, Alastar felt both strong and dangerous.