Secrets Bound By Sand

by T. A. White

  Roslyn and Dewdrop stepped forward, their faces pale and pinched.

  The air burned Tate's lungs as denial surged.

  No.

  Ryu's fingers bit into her skin, a silent warning. The room teetered on a knife's edge as Christopher moved toward them.

  Tate's thoughts fought for purchase against panic and fury. A ringing in her ears drowned out what was being said as she tried to stuff down her fear.

  Sometimes the best answer to a situation was to do nothing. You had to wait for your chance and not blow it by being impetuous. It was a hard thing to do, and it never got easier.

  "Why do I care about the offspring of a failed experiment and a human girl?" the ancient was asking.

  "Because that offspring is the dear friend of Tate. She regards him as a brother," Christopher said with a humorless smile. "The girl is a direct descendant of Jaxon Kuno, the very man who built this place. If anyone can access it, it will be one of his blood."

  The ancient's expression was arrested as he took in the two gifts that had been unexpectedly dropped in his lap. "I take it back. You might still have a use after all."

  "Christopher, I will kill you if you give them to him," Tate said, her voice deadly serious.

  She would too. All the things he'd done before, she could forgive. Not this. Not if he let that monster near her friends, people she had sworn to protect at all costs.

  There were some lines you never crossed. This was hers.

  She didn't know how he had gotten his hands on these two, not when Dewdrop and the rest were supposed to be working on freeing them and getting them away from the city. Or why it was just Dewdrop and not Night too.

  A persistent worry about Night nagged at her. She refused to think Christopher had killed him or left him wounded somewhere. No, she chose to think he'd gotten free and was watching them right now, biding his time until he could act.

  It was perhaps a willful self-deception, but one she needed if she was to keep her wits about her.

  "It's alright, Tate. We'll be fine," Dewdrop said.

  No, he wouldn't. He didn’t understand how much of a threat the ancient was. How could he? The myths had only gotten things half right.

  Tate reached for Ilith, the tingles of the shift gathering as she felt its power wash over her. It was difficult with their bond muted here, but she thought she might be able to muscle through.

  Ryu did something then, draining off the power before she could shape it into the form she needed. He sent it into the ground at their feet.

  She looked up at him with betrayal written on her face.

  You're not being rational. Think. His words appeared in her mind. They were unmistakably his, as clear as if he'd whispered them in her ear

  His expression was patient as he waited. Tate gritted her teeth before nodding. The shift might have worked, but then again it might not have. This place was the equivalent of standing at the center of several opposing winds, each blowing in a separate direction until they clashed and swirled with little logic to their motions. As hard as it was to admit, Ryu was right. Shifting should be a last resort.

  "I never expected to meet a descendant of Jaxon's," the ancient said as he looked over Roslyn. "He always struck me as being loyal to his muse. I guess even he had needs once she was gone."

  He slid her a sly sidelong glance, as if checking for Tate’s reaction.

  She had none. Whatever she and Jax had or had not been was so long ago she didn't even remember it. Perhaps it might have been different if Ryu's warm presence hadn't been wrapped around her like a security blanket, keeping her sane. Perhaps not.

  "What's my name, Tatum?" he asked suddenly.

  Dismay and confusion filled her.

  "You must know it, if you have your memories back as he says you do." The ancient nodded at Christopher.

  Tate glanced between the two, sensing a trap.

  Christopher's expression was blank, but she thought she detected a trace of warning.

  One she couldn't heed. She simply didn't know the ancient’s name. Actually, she didn't remember him at all. He wasn’t present in any of the memories she’d recovered.

  "Get him over here," the ancient said waving toward where Vale crouched, trying to make himself invisible. "I want to see which of these three she truly cares about."

  The Morain didn’t rush to do his bidding. They hesitated, reluctance in their body language. It was only when one of the creatures present lumbered toward Vale that two of them moved, making their way toward the guardian. They lifted him from the ground with surprisingly gentle hands before escorting him onto the columns.

  Vale’s face was rigid, terror lurking in his eyes.

  Tate made a calming motion, not sure if he understood as his expression remained frozen when the two Morain stationed him beside Dewdrop.

  Roslyn faced the ancient and his monsters with her chin lifted, her posture proud. It wasn’t hard to see the stamp of a noble house in her bearing. She faced possible death with dignity.

  Seeing her like this, it was hard to imagine she’d ever let her family dictate to her or try to make her feel small because of a supposed lack.

  Dewdrop, beside her, was the opposite. A street urchin who’d made good, his expression was more vicious than someone his age should have been capable of.

  Tate bit back her protests, knowing they would only give the ancient what he wanted.

  He watched her avidly, anticipating her pain and relishing in it.

  She didn’t move, her jaw locked and tight as he waved a hand at the Morain. “Do it.”

  The Morain on the right hesitated before bending. Tate caught a flash of metal, seconds before it touched the column closest to Dewdrop. A hollow sound echoed.

  For several tense seconds, nothing happened.

  Orange and blue flickered deep in the column’s depths. It reminded Tate of looking through a window on a dark night and seeing the tell-tale light of fire in the distance.

  Vale’s breathing sped up as the flickers strengthened, sparking before quickly consuming the stones around the three in a conflagration, like a wildfire swarming through the depths of the stone to affect those closest to it. Tate’s three friends stood in the epicenter.

  A shrill buzz pierced the air. Roslyn made a pained sound as Vale’s hands slipped up to cover his ears. Dewdrop held Tate’s eyes as he tried to fight back the pain. It was useless. His expression shifted from uncomfortable to agonized as the sound deepened.

  Tate watched, horrified as the columns grew, encasing the three up to their knees.

  Ryu sucked in a harsh breath, his fingers biting into Tate’s shoulders. Otherwise his expression was still and remote, giving no sign of his inner turmoil.

  This was how Jacob had been imprisoned, Tate realized.

  Through it all the Harridan hummed softly to herself, plucking at the end of her braid and dropping strands of her hair onto the columns at her feet.

  There was nothing quite like knowing there was little you could do while the people you loved suffered. It made you feel powerless and small. It was humbling in the worst sort of way, reminding Tate that for all her strength, all her power, there was still so much she couldn’t control. Situations she couldn’t conquer with any amount of bravado or snark.

  It was a sickeningly familiar feeling.

  Tate knew she'd stood like this before, not in this exact spot with these friends, but others who'd meant as much to her, in a time so long ago that most everyone living had forgotten it.

  "Nathan. Your name is Nathan," Tate said through numb lips.

  Nathan's body shifted toward her, his hands clasped behind his back. "You can do it if you try. Good." He pierced the Silva with a harsh look. "Kill them all."

  Tate roared even as Ilith struggled to surge forward and failed, sliding off the veil between them like it was a piece of indestructible glass.

  The faintest hint of heat filled Tate at the attempt, but not enough. Not nearly enough for what she
needed to take down an ancient psychopath.

  "You will not," Tate snarled, the sound primordial and terrifying. It was raw and brittle, the voice of a woman about to come unhinged. And she would. Oh, she would.

  "There. That's it," Nathan hissed, shoving his face close to hers. "I've waited so long to see that expression on your face again. The Nightmare, the Deathbringer. You laid waste to our enemy’s armies. Walked through their homes and left behind nothing living. That's who you should be. Who you should always be. Not this goody-goody, who is so concerned about everyone else."

  Frustration and anger fed from Ilith as she darted over Tate's body before making her way partially down Tate's right arm. The geometric gauntlet around her wrist and hand tingled, reminding her she wasn't helpless without Ilith. She wasn’t less than. Ilith added to her strength but she wasn't the foundation of it.

  This Nightmare he spoke of—the Deathbringer—she'd earned that name long before she and Ilith had found their fates intertwined.

  She hadn't been kind, especially to the enemy, but she had been smart.

  It was enough to bring Tate out of her rage, for her to understand the nuances of what she was seeing around her.

  Despite Nathan's order, neither Morain had made a move against her friends. They hadn't even drawn a weapon.

  They planned to ignore his order, she realized.

  Nathan didn't seem to realize, too focused on Tate and his own plans to realize his faithful dogs weren't quite as faithful as he'd assumed.

  She blinked as she realized the Silva had their own agenda, one where Tate and Nathan might merely be pawns.

  It wasn’t enough to tip the scale entirely in Tate’s favor, not with his monsters standing guard at the Morain’s backs, but it might give them a chance.

  "Let's not be hasty," Christopher said lightly. "You want to see what Jaxon left and these three might have invaluable clues."

  Nathan stepped back from Tate, the fever and excitement in his eyes fading. His gaze was speculative as he looked over the other three.

  "How?"

  "Vale is one of the foremost experts on Jaxon Kuno and the Lady Roslyn carries his blood. You know how that generation liked to tie things to the blood," Christopher explained, rolling his eyes.

  "Then kill the boy and carry on," Nathan said with disinterest.

  Christopher smile didn't waver. "The boy is a banshee. He might be useful given this place’s use of sound."

  Nathan focused on Dewdrop. "A banshee. How fascinating. That was a successful melding, if I recall. The woman we formed was very adept at creating chaos." He slid a look her way. "And a dear friend of yours, once upon a time."

  Tate didn't say anything, afraid any word out of her mouth would influence him in the wrong direction.

  "Very well, he can live. For now." He flicked a small piece of power at the column. It collapsed in on itself, releasing her friend’s legs.

  Tate expelled the breath she was holding. They were safe. At least until it became clear that not one of them knew the first thing about unlocking this thousand-year-old puzzle.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Only when Nathan had moved off, taking a spot on the very edge of the columns, the Harridan trailing him like a lost puppy, did Tate and Ryu relax.

  Tate wanted to grab Dewdrop and wrap him in a hug, then do the same to Roslyn. She resisted. One—

  they weren't safe yet. This was just the calm before the storm. Two—she didn't want to give Nathan any more of a clue how much these two meant to her. He might kill them just to spite her.

  "What are you doing here?" she asked Dewdrop. "And how did you get caught by Christopher?"

  There were other questions she wanted to ask, but those were the important ones.

  "It's a bit of a long story," he said urgently. "Suffice it to say we were wrong. The Silva aren't looking to start a civil war."

  "Could have fooled me," she said.

  Ryu's lips twisted in a half-smile at the disbelief in her voice. She was conscious of him keeping one eye on those around them as she and Dewdrop spoke.

  "He's right," Roslyn said. "We were placed under house arrest. True. But I get the sense it was for our own protection."

  "How so?" Ryu asked when Tate scoffed.

  "Tala did everything she could to keep us from coming here," Roslyn said. "Once we were here, she and her people attended to us personally. They made sure none of them got close."

  Roslyn flicked her gaze at Nathan's pet monsters. Some were human in form with two legs and two arms, but that was the extent of their resemblance. Each was odder than the last. Their creator hadn't been concerned with making them a blending of different features that seamlessly fit together. He’d forsaken any claim to beauty of form for the promise of power and fear.

  “She might have protected you, but she didn’t do the same for Jacob.” Tate shot a meaningful look at the column where the dragon still rested.

  Roslyn expression was uneasy. “We didn’t know what had happened to him and I’m not sure Tala did either. He said he couldn’t act until it was clear they’d broken faith with the mediation or until you ended it. The Harridan and her madness must have taken advantage of the opportunity and caught him off guard.”

  Tate had a feeling Nathan had something to do with Jacob’s imprisonment. The dragon had already gone through so much. She was worried about the state of his mind when he was released.

  "I'm waiting," Nathan called impatiently.

  Roslyn grabbed Tate's hand. "They're planning a regime change. We're just caught up in the middle of it."

  "It's a little more than that," Tate said. Maybe that’s how it started, but events had progressed.

  "He's getting impatient," Ryu observed. "We need to at least appear to be trying to solve this puzzle."

  Tate glanced up and nodded. "Vale, what can you tell me about this place?"

  He glanced around. "I'm not sure. It's not mentioned in any of the journals I've read."

  "Roslyn?" Tate asked, hoping the woman would know something from her family history.

  Roslyn shook her head. "Stories about this part of Jaxon's life were very vague. We know he cultivated a relationship with the Silva and spent many years among them, but that’s it."

  Tate sighed. Not exactly what she wanted to hear. "Spread out. See what you can find."

  The others nodded and moved away, walking over the stones with focused gazes.

  She stopped Dewdrop before he could follow. "We’re going to have a talk later about you putting yourself into danger."

  A sly smirk spread across his face. "As long as we can address your tendency to do the same."

  She glared but didn't try to stop him as he hopped over the uneven columns.

  Ryu raised his eyebrows at her. "Where do you want to start?"

  She nodded to the half-built arch framed by two monolith stones above it and the sky peeking through. "There. I have a feeling it's important."

  He dipped his chin down. "You would be the expert."

  "Let's hope we can keep that a secret," she muttered.

  She didn't hold out much hope of that happening. Vale was scared, but he was also smart. Eventually he would remember everything from today. It wouldn't take that much of a leap to go from Nathan being a contemporary of the Saviors, to realizing his familiarity with Tate suggested a similar background.

  Tate put such thoughts away. There would be time enough later to worry about what Vale had guessed about her. For now, she turned her attention to the puzzle Jaxon had left.

  She was careful as she walked over the columns and their ever-changing elevations. The same muted tones played as the wind raced through the gateway.

  There was something “off” about the notes being played. They were random and at the mercy of the wind, but every so often, there was silence where there shouldn’t be. As if a note was missing, or the pipe responsible for creating the vibrations of the note was damaged.

  Tate’s head tilted as
she considered. She didn’t think it was just one note. Her grasp of music theory wasn’t great, but there seemed to be a couple missing.

  “Do you hear that?” Tate asked, cocking her head.

  The others stopped and listened.

  “All I hear is the wind and the pipes,” Dewdrop said.

  “It’s more what you don’t hear,” Tate said.

  “Notes are missing.” Excitement filled Roslyn’s face.

  Ryu nodded. “She’s right.”

  “How does that help us?” Vale asked.

  Tate shook her head. “I’m not sure.”

  But it felt important. The smallest details often were, when it came to solving Jax’s riddles.

  Gabriella vibrated with impatience on the edge of the columns. It was clear she wanted to be down here with them, helping to solve the riddle.

  Ryu glanced at Nathan, checking to make sure the ancient hadn’t come up with some new method to torture them with.

  “His patience is getting thin,” Ryu said quietly. “We need to come up with a plan in case we can’t figure this out.”

  Dewdrop hopped from one column to another. A note rang out, clear and somber.

  “Dewdrop, stop,” Tate ordered.

  He froze in place as they listened. The wind rushed through the unseen pipes playing several notes until the one she’d heard repeated.

  “It’s not always what you see; sometimes its what you don’t see,” Tate murmured.

  Or hear in this case.

  “That note is new,” Roslyn said.

  “Sound familiar?” Tate asked Ryu.

  His expression was intent as he listened. It only took him a moment to catch what Tate had. "It's one of the notes repeated when we were in the lake.”

  She nodded. "I thought it was strange how those same three notes were repeated there, no matter how far we walked, or what dream we stumbled into. What do you want to bet, the other two notes are here as well?”

  The lake, like this place, had been built by Jax. It would make sense if he’d placed clues to solve this puzzle there.

  Those three notes were important. Somehow crucial to this whole thing.

  “Spread out. See if you can find other columns that trigger the hidden notes,” Tate said.