Amero passed the light to his other hand as they maneuvered an incline. He gingerly selected the easiest path as his thin slippers slid on the rubble. Vincent thanked the gods he wore boots.
As they came to a T in the pass, Amero veered right. Five more strides brought them to a small tunnel on the left. The man paused and peeked at Vincent from shy eyes. He lowered his head as he spoke quietly. “Are you an Allant? You look very much like one.”
The last thing Vincent needed was to cause premature concern or veneration. Aside from the fact he wasn’t one of the actual High Ones, he hated the title. No one should set themselves above another, no matter the dimension they’re from. How his father could push for such an arrangement was beyond him. “My name is Vincent.”
The man’s gaze shot to the ground, and he flushed. “I am Amero.”
“Yes, I think you mentioned that. Thank you for your help, Amero. Out of curiosity, why would you think I’m a High One?”
To show he knew the meaning of the word Allant could only help the man feel more comfortable in his presence, and perhaps get him to see Elaina quicker.
“The stories tell of the Allants returning one day with black hair, eyes like onyx, and…” he motioned with his torch. “Your fists have a light of red that deepens when you make them tighter.”
Vincent looked at the tell-tale sign of his tension and heaved a sigh. Okay. Check yourself, Vince. We don’t need this kind of attention.
“Right. Well, my hands do feel very warm. But my name is Vincent, and I’m looking for my wife.”
“If you are not an Allant, and your eyes do not shimmer like a master, then are you from the World of the Sun?”
Vincent glanced to the side. Master? Right. Rhune had said something about the people of the world below practicing slavery. So Amero was no doubt a slave. It was the only thing that could explain his poor clothing. He stifled a sneer at the thought. If these people must work in the rock, why not provide more suitable shoes, in the least? “Yes, a world where I live in the sunshine.”
“So you are her server, searching for your mistress.”
“I’m looking for my wife.”
The man’s brows dipped as his lips parted, and he seemed to struggle to understand. “You…you mated with your…” He quickly cleared his throat, wiped his hand down his tunic.
“My wife and I are not servants or masters. We’re free and love each other.”
Amero nodded. Lifting his gnarled hand, he motioned toward the small tunnel. “She is in there.”
As they dipped into the small pass, the torch bleached the sediment white. Silver shale tiled a narrow door and glowed in the bright light from the crystal. Rollers rumbled on a track, and the thin slabs clattered against each other as Amero slid the closure aside. An oval room appeared beyond the threshold, lit to the brightness of high noon. Burnished amber made up the walls, floor, and a small staircase that led to a second landing balcony. Alabaster seating huddle to the right, while two arched hallways took up the left side of the room. A small cabinet stood at the far end, and another took up the space beside the shale door. A wide cylinder with several garments lying across it filled a nook under the steps. Crystals, much like the one in Amero’s torch, lined the tapering ceiling. For being underground, Vincent noted the warmth of the place, but he couldn’t find the source of the heat. Now this is the way to camp underground.
“I will get the mistress,” said Amero as he bustled down hallway number one.
Vincent ran his fingertips along the smooth rock wall. This is an amazing feat to accomplish in a cavern. He touched the white cabinet beside him. Smooth rock. Maybe these people aren’t so bad off after all.
Footsteps sounded from the other hall, and Vincent turned to greet the people. As they entered the main room, three more servants, dressed in brown tunics, looked at him and then halted. They dropped to their knees, sitting on their feet, and placed their hands on the floor, bowing their heads low.
Vincent waved his hand. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Then perhaps it should be you who bows along with them.”
The tenor in the voice couldn’t have been older than twelve, but the command in the tone suggested this young woman was used to throwing her slight weight around. Vincent peered over his shoulder and frowned at the young lady seated in one of the chairs. Definitely no older than twelve. Was she there all along? “And you are?”
She lifted her dainty chin. “Becca Compton, and this is Master Almadore’s abode.”
“I’m only looking for my wife. I was told she was brought here by the man at the falls. Amero.”
“Amero?” The youth’s blue eyes shifted to the side, and Vincent caught an odd shimmer in her irises. “Amero assists in gathering the healing supplies and settling new arrivals. I wasn’t aware Rawkin acquired a new slunk maid, much less a set.”
Vincent placed his hands at his waist. “He hasn’t. Elaina is my wife, and I’m here to take her home.”
With a shake of her head, the young woman stood and folded her arms. “If you weren’t a suitable mate, she’ll be assigned another.”
“Suitable mate? Young lady, you don’t know what you’re talking about. Where’s this Master Almadore?”
She scoffed. “My father is a Leading Father of the Nation. I’d say I know what I’m talking about concerning servers.”
A lanky boy, about the same age, peeked from the tunnel behind the bowed servants. “I thought you were talking again before you figured things out.” He placed his hands at the sides of his waist and stood tall. “He’s no slunk. One look at how he stands proves that. He shows pride.”
Vincent huffed.
Becca’s gaze flew over Vincent as she scowled. “Well, his eyes don’t shimmer.”
The boy snorted. “How can you tell? They’re black.” As if that ended the conversation, he added a command to the slaves. “Shelle, Drake, Elise, rise and return to your duties.”
He motioned with his nod and strode into the neighboring hall. “Your wife is in the healer’s room. When she got here, we were confused at her state. She was talking in some odd language and very weak. With her condition, we couldn’t just leave her on her way. Rawkin’s Terrace Well abode is the only one for at least a mile. It’s a good thing he and Father had business and brought the medical staff to check the servers. If she came and only the slunks were here, they’d be afraid to deal with her.” He glanced Vincent’s way. “None would want to view her in her state for fear of shaming her. Rawkin’s slaves are among the best trained, you know.”
“Ah,” Vincent said, not understanding at all.
“Of course, if they could have understood her, they would have rendered service immediately.”
A knot set in Vincent’s gut. He hadn’t considered her inability to communicate with the natives of Midway Summit. If the portal had aged her at all, she would definitely be in a weakened state when she emerged. If the servants would have indeed ignored her for fear of their master’s rebuke, he owed Amero a huge service. Perhaps his belief of the return of the High Ones had aided in his decision to help. He’d obviously witnessed the lights of the portal when she emerged. Thank you, Amero, for not ignoring her plight.
As they turned into another oblong room, Elaina’s cry pierced his heart.
“Vince! Oh, Gods, Vince, it’s you!” Her back arched, legs shook, and body trembled beneath the thick blankets draped over her on the small cot. She appeared to have difficulty holding her hands to her chest, and her head jarred in spams as if convulsions controlled her.
He rushed to her side and took her hands in his to steady them. “Gods, Elaina,” he whispered. “What have they done to you?”
Sharp jitters punctuated her tremors, and tiny squeaks rode her breaths. “No, V-Vince. It was V-Venus…”
A tall man entered holding a pad and pencil and walked directly to Vincent. “Do you understand me?
“Yes, of course. What’s happened to my wife?”
“So you know her. Good. I’m Doctor McGroy. We’ve tried several times to find the language she speaks. We even attempted what we knew of the ancient tongues.”
“No, she’s from very far away. We’ve just come here and she…wandered off.”
The doctor shook his head. “She shouldn’t be traveling in her condition. The last time I saw this…” he peeked over his shoulder to the young man, and then lowered his voice. “Do you trust your servers Mr…?”
“Shilo. Vincent Shilo. And I uh…I trust those who are with us explicitly.”
“Oh.” The man’s gaze fitted to his, and then he did a double take. “Oh. I see. When she acquired service, it was almost too much for her. I gave her a sedative to help her rest,” the doctor whispered, so low Vincent could barely make out the words.
“It doesn’t seem to be working very well.”
“She is much calmer than she was, Mr. Shilo. I’m afraid she will suffer like this for the rest of her pregnancy, which by the look of things, won’t be much longer.”
Vincent looked at the pile of thick blankets. With Elaina’s feet pulled close to her bottom and her knees pointed at the ceiling, could the covers really be hiding a… “Pregnancy?”
“Ah, yes.” The doctor’s brow furrowed and he scanned Vincent’s face with shimmering eyes. “You are her husband and are unaware?”
Vincent’s blood rushed to his head. The man is serious? He whipped the covers from Elaina’s body. Her belly, round with child, seemed to glare at him with reproach. Oh my…Gods! It’s true.
The man took Vincent’s arm and led him a few feet away. “I see this is a surprise. And it is entirely possible that she withheld this information from you until it was no longer possible. Perhaps the reason she fled?” The pad teetered in his hand. “Of course you know the consequences of mating with a mistress, mister. This drastic condition doesn’t happen when the father is…of pure blood.”
The accusation in the doctor’s voice screamed trouble, and Vincent didn’t need a reason to lose his temper among these people. Not now with the return of the Allants at hand. If they considered him a servant and not of pure blood, would they keep him from her? Arrest him for crossing the line between master and slave?
Wrenching his arm from the man’s grip, Vincent marched to Elaina, bent, and scooped her into his arms. Turning, he marched past Dr. McGroy, bumping him aside, and dipped into the long hallway. Before anyone could follow, he dispersed their elements into the Smoke of Night, careful to include the delicate content of her womb.
He darted down the hall, through the foyer, and then thinned their essences as he aimed for the small space beneath the shale door of the abode. They emerged into the darkness of the narrow tunnel, and Vincent used his senses to avoid the walls and boulders on the way. Whipping left at the T, he flew at full force to get as much space between them and the underground dwellers as possible.
The scent of damp sediment and iron penetrated his senses as they passed the Terrace Well waterfall and flew upward, out of the giant opening in the mountainside. Hot rays from the white sun cast bright light on the lush valley ahead, and Vincent paused to remember the layout of the great hills surrounding the Midway Summit Shilo Manor. Languages and customs had come easily, but which way to the Shilo Manor that stood in shadow?
Elaina’s elements pulsed with energy, and he realized how drastic her symptoms were. How did all this happen? Would his seed really cause such a reaction to a woman born of another dimension? For that matter, how could the gods choose to grant him a child when his soul had only begun the course of eternal life? He hadn’t experienced enough to be a father! So many Meridian couples prayed for this blessing, and he and Elaina are chosen? Could her pleas have reached Venus, and in mercy the Goddess consorted with Taravaughn, the God of Life of Cornerstone Deep, and granted the prayers? It’s unbelievable!
Vincent pushed aside the questions to tackle the issue at hand. He focused on their surroundings. Mountain peaks and valleys appeared on every side. But he knew they were west of the white orchard that homed the Sentinels’ manor. Keeping to the mountain top, he headed east in hopes he’d spot the apricot trees from a distance.
Pines stretched high; framing gray bluffs so tall they put the ones on Cornerstone Deep to shame. Seagulls sang long chords alongside them, no doubt claiming Sheridan Sea to the rear as their home.
Fields of clover broke into the woodland, and Vincent had to wonder if the people harvested the crop for some reason, or if honey was the goal. Regardless, the purple flora broke the wide variety of greenery beautifully.
A squirm produced a nauseating wave through his senses, and reality hit him again. There was a third life connected to his essences. His offspring. His child. Was it safe to be traveling by Smoke of Night with an unborn infant? Come on, Vince, find that manor.
A vast city spread out to the right, one he’d never thought possible on a plane so young. Tall buildings glistened in the bright sunlight, motored transport sped along wide lanes of paved road, and he couldn’t help compare it to Shilo City. So many unknowns lay ahead. So many changes. And so many questions.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The bright light of the portal passed in a flash as Rhune stepped into the door and emerged behind the waterfall on Midway Summit. He lifted his cloak against the mist and cursed the wet rocks as his thin shoes got soaked.
A boy’s voice punctuated the noisy splashes, and caught Rhune’s attention with a jerk. He turned to the sliver of space between the rock and the waterfall as the lad ran to a man beyond the flow. “Obu! Another light flashed from behind the falls!”
Warped bodies moved beyond the flux of streaming water, and Rhune pressed his lips together with a sigh. Another light? These people have noticed the portal’s activity.
“Hurry,” said an elderly man as he handed the boy a bundle. “Get these herbs to Master Almadore. They are needed quickly.”
“Yes, Obu.”
Having not heard the word used for father in so many years, Rhune had to smile. I’ve always like that word.
The youngster wrapped his arms around the satchel and then darted out of sight. A woman’s form leaned to the man, and Rhune barely made out her words above the din.
“What does this mean, Amero? Are the High Ones returning?”
“I do not know. The man who entered before did not look like the one who came to us twelve years ago.” He took a few steps closer to the falls and seemed to look beyond the water toward Rhune. “There is somebody in there.”
As the obu’s head leaned into the sliver of space, he called to Rhune. “Are you all right? Do you require service?”
A heavy hand slapped Rhune on the shoulder from behind, and he spun to face a Senior Sentinel of the Spectrum of Realms. His dark hair hugged his scalp, plastered with sheen until small waves curled around the back of his thick neck. The indigo jacket he wore couldn’t hide his muscular form, and Rhune grinned at how closely they matched his own. How many times had people back home on Meridian commented on how they looked like brothers? Rhune had lost count. But the man definitely held his youthful features well. Slight wrinkles creased his forehead and eyes, his thin brows pressed tightly above the bridge of his narrow nose. Perhaps he had served in a foreign dimension that would allow him to age slowly.
The base in the man’s voice rumbled in response to Obu’s query. He murmured, “Oh, he is not all right.”
“Zacharius, I—”
The man dispersed into the Smoke of Night, forcing Rhune’s body to do the same with his touch. He shot upward through crevices, and then left the wide mouth in the side of the mountain, carrying Rhune with him. A bright sky and white sun met them in contrast to the misted shadows. Heat penetrated Rhune’s essence; such a welcome change from the constant cold of the Cornerstone Deep realm. But why the rude approach from the well-known Sentinel? He was, after all, following the wishes of the counsel by getting involved with Midway Summit again.
Zipping along t
he countryside, he allowed Zacharius to lead. The timberland stretched tall in the mid-northern territory and looked like spikey hair growing from the rolling toes of the great mount. Fields of blue and purple flowers unfolded in large patches to the right, while the western horizon gleamed with the crests of Sheridan Sea. They merged left, and Rhune recognized the course they took immediately; the route to Shilo Manor.
Small townships nestled within the woodland, cattle grazed in valleys, and as orchards took over the view white flora dominated the treetops.
Snuggled within the arbors at the foot of the mountain, Shilo Manor stood, not in shadow as Rhune had expected, but clearly a mansion of high worth. Perhaps Vincent found the home and released it from its slumber. That would explain the brilliant scene. Though Zacharius’s presence placed question to that theory. But why would the Sentinel be here?
Zacharius’s hold tightened on Rhune’s elements, and he dipped toward the manor. The front door flew wide. As they materialized in the foyer, the man rounded on him with a scowl. “Over four hundred years. Four hundred years, I’ve been assigned here with the meager development these people have made. And when you decide to return, you send a woman from a Cornerstone Realm like the others. She didn’t even speak the language! She was lucky there were servants near the well at the time because I was not about to get involved with another one of your stunts. And that’s another thing. Servers saw her come from behind the portal falls!” He tossed his hand through the air. “And then a clueless Meridian enters this dimension. Both unannounced. Both making contact with the inhabitants beneath the rock before I can make contact with them.”
Destiny (Cornerstone Deep Book 3) Page 12
