Unearthed

by Sara M Zerig

  AOX SERIES - BOOK 1

  UNEARTHED

  SARA M. ZERIG

  DEDICATION

  To my children, who are an endless source of love, inspiration, and amusement: you are not allowed to read this book.

  And to my husband: apple-dapple-u.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Preface

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Preface

  Legend of the Xxyryn (Zai-ren)

  Ages ago, there existed a single world where primitive people of magic shared the land with humans in great discord. Envied and feared for their magic, the witches, warlocks, shifters, and elves were frequently hunted by the humans. Although they were physically weaker and devoid of magic, the humans were no less formidable, as they vastly outnumbered their prey.

  No magic race was safe, but the witches and warlocks possessed the greatest magic and so were targeted first. Tens of thousands were slain, and the race was cut down to a few dozen people. Desperate, the survivors came together to raise their plight to the stars as one, that all people of magic be delivered from the humans. The divine magic of the universe answered by bestowing the incredible talent of compulsion upon a young warlock, who would become known as the Xxyryn.

  He was magnificent—as powerful as he was wise. A warlock with all protector, seer, and healer abilities, his voice could command not only other people, but also the very world around him. The Xxyryn even elevated the talents of other witches and warlocks of his generation. The prophetic visions of the seers were more precise. The protectors were stronger and faster, and healers were able to heal more swiftly and completely.

  When the Xxyryn grew to master his gift, the magic people implored him to destroy the humans, but he refused, seeing some good among them. Instead, he commanded the creation of new realms, separate in time and space from the world where they had long suffered. He created each realm with great care, ensuring the climate and environment best suited each race: the Shifter Realm, hot and dry; the Coven Realm, cool and densely forested; and the Elven Realm, humid and tropical. The world they left became known as the Earthen Realm, where humans would remain forever, their magicless blood preventing them from traveling on their own to any realm created by the Xxyryn.

  The Xxyryn was praised for his powers, mercy, and wisdom by all who knew of him. Over time, however, he grew bored and restless. His once noble restraint wore thin, and he began to abuse his powers. He became enamored with a young witch, who did not return his affections, so he willed her to fall in love with him. When her family discovered what he had done, they protested but could do nothing to reverse his command. Appalled, a small group of the most powerful witches and warlocks formed a council, intent on protecting others from the Xxyryn’s absolute power.

  The Xxyryn laughed at the council’s attempt to limit him until he began to feel the effects of their binding spells. He first lost his ability to command the feelings of others, and the enchantment over his bride was broken. He sought to spirit her away to a new realm he created, unreachable by anyone else. But the young witch escaped him, and the Xxyryn fled to his new realm alone. In the end, the Xxyryn had established a fate worse than anything the council could have inflicted upon him—sealed inside his own untouchable realm in utter isolation. His family would sense his death some two hundred years afterwards.

  Centuries later, a Coven generation of extraordinary talent emerges. A Xxyryn, however, has yet to be identified. People of all the magic realms are anxious, unsure of what the future holds in this new Age of the Xxyryn.

  Prologue

  Picture windows showcased the transition from day to night, the golden sky giving way to a shade of lavender that would darken within the hour. Aidan St. Cyr stood back as his wife lay motionless on their canopied bed. Serena, a healer and trusted friend, stood over Cara’s body. Her hands were steady in the air over the prone form, but a deep “V” pinched between her golden brows. Serena could not tell him what had gone wrong, but there was no explanation that would have satisfied him.

  Serena dropped her hands. Her honeyed skin paled as sadness mixed with disbelief crossed the witch’s normally placid visage. She straightened, smoothing her hands down the front of her soft yellow gown, collecting herself before speaking. “She will recover, but it may be days before she wakes.”

  Cara had been alone when she went into early labor. It was Serena who had found Cara lying in the garden unconscious. But Cara had been found too late. “Aidan, I am so sorry.”

  A small knock sounded at the door, and Aidan’s four-year-old son poked his head inside. The young warlock was so much like him, with dark brown hair, olive skin and dark eyes glimmering with fragments of emerald green. Aidan watched the miniature version of himself run into the room and stop short at the sight of his mother.

  “What happened, Father?”

  Aidan projected a calm he did not feel. “Your mother is ill, Aaron, but Lady Kincade is caring for her, and she will be well again in a few days.”

  The youth frowned at his mother’s belly. Of course, he would notice.

  “Where is my sister?”

  Aidan turned away from him. He heard the soft rustle of Serena’s gown as she ushered the child out of the room and closed the door behind them. They had been told Cara was pregnant with a female. A young seer from another clan had told them she would become a powerful witch, like her mother. Obviously, the seer had been wrong. But then, most predictions are only as good as the moment they are delivered. So many factors can affect an outcome.

  And now there was nothing. If they were shifters or humans, there would be a body to lay to rest. But when witches and warlocks die, their bodies disintegrate to a fine, silvery ash to be carried away in the wind.

  When one of their own departs naturally, they are not mourned. It is customary to celebrate the dead’s accomplishments and rejoice in having known them. They are missed, but the certainty of being reunited with them in the spirit world supplants the loss.

  Not so this time. Aidan and Cara had not had the chance to meet their daughter. They never held her in their arms; they could not even sense her departure from this life.

  Aidan opened the glass doors to the second-story stone balcony. Beyond the gardens of their affluent estate, a wide river of sparkling water cut through the land. A dense growth of massive trees lined the other side of the river. In his mind, he could see past the Northern Forest to the Coven Square where he met with witches and warlocks of their fellow clans of the West, South, and East.

  Aidan reflected on his place in it all. Coven people were small in number, in the mere hundreds. The people of this realm were born with an innate talent used to guide or assist others. The talents themselves varied, but all were generally classified as protectors, healers, or seers.

  Though his was the smallest of all the clans, with only four families, their
powers were renowned throughout the realm. As a protector whose wits matched his impressive strength, Aidan had been chosen as councilwarlock to lead the North Clan shortly after the turn of his first century. Now, fifty-five years later, he wanted nothing more than to pass those powers down to a new generation, ultimately, to build a larger, more powerful race.

  Aidan looked back to his wife. Although she was in her prime for bearing children, Aidan knew Cara would not want to conceive again. She would instead focus on raising Aaron and on her teachings at the school for healers. As much as Aidan wanted more children, he could not blame her. He could not ask her to endure another pregnancy. The fact that they would have to have this conversation when she awoke ate away at him.

  He returned to Cara’s side and knelt, holding her hand in his. Memories of the first time they met flooded his brain. Any warlock would find her attractive; she was a unique beauty, with white-blonde hair, silvery eyes, and delicate features. But the confidence she emitted when her eyes met his, the sureness of her voice when she spoke to him—that had been his undoing.

  He would do anything within his power to protect her. But this, he thought bitterly as he gazed at her abdomen, was well beyond his power. Beyond the powers of the most gifted healers. Beyond anyone’s but fate. How could he tell Cara this when she awoke? How would they explain this to Aaron? Aidan sent a silent prayer to the stars that this, somehow, was not real.

  A howling wind swept over the near barren, red-rocked land of the Shifter Realm and preceded his ex-lover’s arrival like an ominous warning. Lee had not been expecting them, but this was not unusual. They visited when she wanted something, and they never stayed for long.

  Lee stretched out thick, linen-clad legs and rose from his chair to meet them at the entryway of the small cave he called home. Folding his arms across his bare chest, he peered down his nose at the adult female and young male. Auburn locks framed the female’s deceptively beautiful face. She was petite and fair-skinned, unlike his kind, but her foreign characteristics were hidden beneath the white hooded robe she wore.

  The simple garment should have made her more conspicuous here. Shifter women dressed immodestly for the heat with their bronzed limbs exposed. But beneath Char’s robe was a cloaking talisman that Lee suspected she had stolen—no one would have readily given it to her. It allowed her to blend in with the crowd virtually unnoticed. As long as she kept her head down and did not make eye contact, she would likely not be seen unless someone was looking for her. And no one was looking for Char. No one here even knew she existed, except Lee.

  The wards of all the magic realms allowed only pureblooded magic people to come and go. But of course, Char had managed a way around that as well. Once she became pregnant with Lee’s son, she was able to transfer in and out of the Shifter and Elven Realms on her own, even after giving birth. The Coven Realm wards were stronger and would not let her through.

  There was no recognizable effect when Char transferred like there was for magic people. Shifters took on a translucent appearance, Coven people formed a glow, and Elves transferred in wisps of smoke. Char’s skin turned a sickly gray color for the few seconds it took to dematerialize and rematerialize, but that was it.

  Char carried a basket draped in blankets, which Lee noted and dismissed, directing his attention to her mute companion. It was not that Seth was incapable of talking; he just rarely did. Eight years old now, he was a puny kid, unlike purebred shifters. He dressed like an Earthen boy, in blue jeans and a T-shirt with some ridiculous fictional character printed on the front. His copper-blond hair was a hybrid of his mother’s deep red tresses and Lee’s own golden locks. The blue eyes were entirely Char’s.

  Lee had been in a rebellious phase when Seth was conceived. As a rule, shifters were not rebellious. They were proud people who valued their traditions. They had the genuine pleasure to serve their community in the manner that their parents before them had. But Lee, somehow, had not been granted that gene. He could never quite put his finger on what he’d rather be doing, but he was sure then that peddling animal pelts and water skins in the suffocating walls of his dwelling wasn’t it. As if being unhappy with his lot in life weren’t bad enough, he had not a soul in all the Shifter Realm to confide in. It was unacceptable to resent one’s communal obligations.

  Lee had been restless then, itching for something different. He traveled to other realms with no real purpose. He was most drawn to the Earthen Realm, where powerless people with short life spans had unending opportunities to be and do what they wished. Each time he visited, he left with the nagging feeling that what he really wanted was there, somewhere.

  It was on one such excursion to the Earthen Realm that Lee had first met Char. She was attractive and bold, and he was lost and brooding, easy prey for the cunning vixen. Lee knew of the realmless even before he had met Char. All the realms, except Earthen, knew of them. They were descendants of criminals from the Shifter, Coven, and Elven Realms, whose powers were bound before they were cast out with nowhere to go but the Earthen Realm.

  The outcasts procreated with humans, creating a mixed race that was more human than magic. It was believed that the realmless had some advantages over humans. Most of them had heightened intuition and could be trained to sense other realmless and purebloods. Some of them had longer lifespans. A few, like Char, could perform limited magic. It was possible that a few had the ability to transfer to other realms, but the wards of each realm would not allow them through.

  No one knew for sure how many realmless existed, maybe a few dozen. Char was probably one of the more powerful among them. Like Lee, though, she wanted more. Lee should not be relegated to the chores of his father, she had told him, any more than she should be cursed and cast out for the sins of an ancestor. But Char was only looking for a pureblooded minion—a goon to help further her goals of somehow reclaiming the powers she felt she was due.

  Lee eventually lost his wanderlust along with his interest in Char and resigned himself to his shifter obligations. He grew mostly content in his solitude, living in a natural cave deemed too small for anyone else. One table, one chair, one bed big enough for one shifter and two water skins: one for water and one for liquor.

  His earnings in the marketplace would afford him more, but he preferred to live lean and pass the rest of the money on to Char to care for Seth. He did not see much of his son, and while he could barely stomach the mother, the least he could do was help out financially. Adolescence was just around the corner for Seth, and then they would see if he could shift. If he could, Lee would find a way to mentor his son. But if he could not, there wasn’t much more Lee could do for him.

  “I’ve brought a present,” Char told him, setting the basket at his feet.

  “For me?” he drawled.

  “For us.”

  Lee reached down and flipped back the blankets.

  “An infant,” he said nonplussed, until the scent hit his nose. “Coven?”

  Char sauntered further into the cave and began her tale. “For all their powers and resources, there are certain herbs that the Coven Realmers can find only outside their realm. Chamomile, for instance, is particularly effective in soothing nausea in witches but grows in dry climates of the Earthen Realm and, of course, here.”

  “Everyone knows this.”

  “A few months back, I noticed a witch in the marketplace of the Fourth Dwelling securing a small handful of chamomile and lavender tea sachets, wrapped in a gold ribbon.”

  Lee studied the sleeping infant. If the baby awoke, it would start crying, and he did not want to draw attention to its presence here. He carefully pulled the blankets back in place over the basket.

  “So?”

  “So, I found it curious that a witch would travel to the Shifter Realm for such a small parcel when they procure the same herbs in bulk regularly to make their own teas.”

  Char paused for effect, and Lee rolled his eyes to the stone ceiling. “On with it, woman.”

  She con
tinued smoothly, “Each week, the same witch came for a small bundle of teas, made fresh for her that morning. As it turns out, the teas were a gift from a shifter elder and specially crafted for none other than—” Char inserted another dramatic pause, “Cara St. Cyr.”

  Lee felt the blood drain from his face. “St. Cyr?”

  Char held up one hand as though she knew what he was thinking. “She is alive. The tea I slipped in only induced birth and a slumber for both of them.”

  “I thought the Coven Realm wards would not let you through.”

  “With Seth’s hand in mine, I may as well be a pureblood shifter. Close enough to fool the Coven wards, anyway.”

  Lee looked to Seth. Seth dropped his gaze to the floor. The youth was not able to transfer on his own yet. He presented as a shifter to the senses, not a realmless, but anyone with eyes could see he was not a pureblooded shifter—not of this realm, anyway. He was far too small.

  It had been centuries since a pureblood had been cast out; criminals were either rehabilitated or executed now. Realmless people couldn’t have much magic blood in them these days, and what they did have was restricted by the binding spells cast upon their criminal relatives.

  Lee did not know Char’s exact age. She looked to be in her early thirties when they met and hadn’t changed, which could put her at anywhere from forty-something to three-hundred-and-something today, if she aged as slowly as purebloods did. He supposed it was possible that Char was half magic, if she was the daughter of the last pureblood outcast—whoever that was. Was her bound magic blood coupled with Seth’s unbound shifter blood enough to present as a pureblood to the Coven wards? Or was it just Seth’s blood that had made the difference because he presented as a shifter?

  Leaning forward, Char lured, “Lee, do you know what this could mean for us?”

  “Death,” Lee answered. “Return the baby.”

  “It’s too late for that,” Char reasoned. “She is gone, and we have left no evidence of our presence there. They will likely assume a miscarriage.”