Heir of Hope (Follower of the Word Book 3)

by Morgan L. Busse

  And the Word . . .

  The image of the Word in the Eldaran sanctuary shone in her mind . . . the colored glass wall . . . a badly scarred man dressed in a long white robe. He was smiling at her, a gentle smile. Remember.

  I remember now.

  She let out a long, calm breath. “No.”

  Valin’s hand stopped above her metal glove. “What? What did you say?”

  “No.” She stepped away from him. “No. I will not join you.”

  His face tightened.

  “I could never join you. That is not who I am. I am a Daughter of Light. A Follower of the Word.” Strength and conviction flowed through her body, warming her. The truth was rooted deep inside her soul. She could never join Valin and Malchus. She could never commit the atrocities she had seen them perform. She would never again use her power that way. Even if it meant she died.

  The warmth and passion in Valin’s face vanished. His eyes returned to their icy cold color. “You would say no to us? To power? To freedom? To everything you could ever have?” His lips tightened into one firm line. “You would say no . . . to me?”

  Rowen straightened to her full height. “I will not join you. Not now, not ever.”

  Valin looked as if he had frozen into a beautifully carved statue. His lips moved with forced effort. “Then if that is your decision—”

  “It is.”

  “So be it.”

  A shiver went through her soul.

  Valin grabbed her wrist, just above the metal band, and dragged her back toward the chairs.

  Malchus had risen from his seat, his eyes glowing. Expectant.

  Valin’s fingers tightened. “You don’t really think I will allow you to keep your power, do you? To let you destroy what Malchus and I have created?”

  Her mouth went dry. He was right. She would stop them from destroying all that she loved. Even if it meant . . .

  Word, let me be strong.

  He lifted her hand between them. Light shone between the metal rings and bounced off his face. “With one touch of this mark, you could stop us.” His fingers dug into her wrist until she gasped. “So I need to make sure that never happens. Silas!”

  One of the soldiers standing beside the door jerked to life. He turned toward them and crossed the floor, movements stiff.

  Valin held out his other hand. “Your sword, please, Silas.”

  The soldier drew his sword out. The light from her hand flashed across the metal blade.

  This was it. Her breath came in fast gasps and her vision blurred. Was she ready to die? I have to be.

  “Oh, you won’t be dying today.”

  Rowen gave a small jerk. “What?”

  “You will live. You will live and watch all that you gave up—a shriveled woman in a dark cell until the end of your days. Or until Malchus or I have need of your life essence. For now, I am merely taking your mark.”

  “My mark?” He was going to take her mark? How, without killing her? She pulled back, but he held her wrist with the same strength as her metal band. “You can’t do that. My mark is who I am. To take my mark you would have to kill me.”

  “Not necessarily.” He dragged her to the arm of one of the chairs and laid her hand across the top. “I just have to cut off your hand.”

  “My . . . hand?” Her knees gave out and she fell to the floor. Valin still held her by the wrist. “Please no!” The moment she said those words, she hated herself. She needed to be strong, not weak. But her body ignored her and self-preservation took over.

  “I gave you a chance.” He dug his fingernails into the soft under part of her wrist. “Many chances. You turned down every single one of them. So I am going to take the one thing that marks you as the Word’s. You will be as helpless as a human.” Valin glanced up above her head. “Silas, hold her still.”

  No! She couldn’t let him do this. She could die, yes . . . but not this!

  With a hard twist and a loud cry she pulled back and struggled to stand. She swung her elbow back and caught Silas in the stomach.

  Silas gasped and staggered to the side.

  Just as she came to her feet, excruciating pain filled her arm and radiated down her back. She opened her mouth in a silent gasp and slid down onto the ground.

  Valin dug his fingers into the inside of her wrist again.

  She screamed and hunched over.

  Silas moved in and pulled her free hand behind her back. He shoved his knee right between her shoulder blades, pushing her down with his weight.

  Valin moved her hand back onto the chair.

  She panted, a cold sweat rising across her body. Her stomach clenched violently. “Please Valin, have mercy.”

  He raised the sword, his face set. “It has to be done.” The sword glinted in the light, poised above his head.

  “Please, Word! Don’t let him do this to me!”

  The sword fell with a quick flick of silver.

  Chapter

  30

  No one spoke around the fire that night. A half-mile away orange and yellow flames blazed against the black sky. A hint of charred flesh scented the air, but most of the smell was carried downwind. That was good. Lore didn’t want to smell the village pyre any more than he had to.

  Caleb sat on a log to his left, his elbows on his knees and his face cupped in his hands, orange light playing across his body. He seemed to be in deep thought.

  A log split and fell into the glowing cinders, snapping and crackling as the flames consumed it. Ash shot into the air and burned up like a dozen tiny flames, disappearing into the night sky.

  Nierne lay on her side to the right of the fire. A blanket was pulled up to her chest, her face toward the fire. After her talk with Caleb earlier today, she still seemed pale, and a tear or two had fallen while she hauled wood to the makeshift pyre, but she seemed more composed.

  He would have been more worried if she hadn’t reacted the way she did. To see life utterly destroyed touched the heart, unless a person didn’t have a heart. It was good to see that she still had hers intact after all she had been through.

  She pulled the blanket up to her shoulders. “I’m going to turn in for the night.” Her voice sounded small.

  Caleb blinked and looked up.

  Lore placed another log on the fire. “Good night, Nierne.”

  She rolled over, her back now to the fire.

  Caleb continued to watch her.

  Lore warmed his hands, but his soul . . .

  Was like ice.

  The faces of all the people he carried today played inside his mind. He’d placed each one inside the house. He said a prayer over the bodies, but couldn’t recall the words he used. Then he set the house on fire. It didn’t take long for the flames to spread.

  He looked over his shoulder now. The pyre still burned in the distance, but seemed to be contained to just that one house. He turned back. Maybe it would be better if the whole village burned to the ground and erased the evil that had been done there.

  Caleb stared at the fire.

  Lore stood and stretched. “I think I’m going to turn in as well.”

  Caleb nodded, but didn’t say anything.

  He walked toward the packs and pulled out a blanket. He didn’t really feel like being around anyone tonight. Nierne and Caleb probably felt the same way. So he headed down toward the beach.

  He couldn’t see it in the darkness, but he could feel the water’s edge within his Avonain blood. It was at high tide now, so he didn’t have to worry about the tide coming in while he slept. He concentrated on the grass until it disappeared and sand replaced it under his boots. He laid the blanket out across the sand and took his belt off, careful to lay his sword where he could find it if he needed it. Then he lay down, the sand cushioning his body.

  The gentle whoosh of the water soothed him.
It was calm tonight, and he let the water’s serenity fill his veins, washing away today’s events. He stared up at the stars, watching them until his lids grew heavy and shut.

  Light spread above him. Trees formed a circle around him—tall, thin pine trees, like the ones back home in Anwin forest. Looking down, he found himself in a field filled with thick, green grass and tiny white flowers.

  “Lore?”

  Lore turned—and his heart stopped.

  Rowen stood a couple feet from him, dressed in a sleeveless white gown. Her pale hair flowed around her shoulders and down her body, reaching almost to her waist. Her face was flawless, like the first time he saw her back in the inn in Mostyn. Her eyes were a deep blue, and her lips were open in surprise.

  “Rowen?” His gut twisted inside him. It couldn’t be. The last few weeks, she had started fading from his memory. But now he could see her perfectly. Lands, she was beautiful.

  She walked toward him, hesitant. “Is it really you?”

  Wait, wasn’t this a dream?

  “Yes.” He closed the gap between them and stopped. She looked so real. He could even see her chest rise and fall with each breath. “I’ve missed you.”

  She searched his face, then lifted her hand and cupped his cheek. Her hand was warm, living.

  He turned into her palm. She smelled like soap and clean linen.

  “You are tired. I can feel it.”

  At her soft words, the ache inside deepened. “I am,” he whispered into her hand. “I don’t know if I will find you.”

  She stroked his cheek with her thumb.

  Lore leaned forward until his forehead touched hers. Her breath was warm against his lips. Close enough to kiss her. Did it matter if it was a dream?

  Before he could think, her lips brushed his—a soft, shy touch.

  His heart sped up. “Rowen, I don’t know if this is real.”

  “I don’t know either.”

  Real or not, he missed her. She was his other half, the missing part of his soul. His bondmate. He kissed her then, pulling her close. Her hair was silk between his fingers, her skin smooth, her mouth shaped perfectly to fit his. He inhaled her scent, clean and pure. “I wish I had never let you go.”

  “We cannot change the past.”

  He brushed a stray hair back. “No, we can’t. But I’m coming. We are already in Kerre.”

  She went stiff. “Lor—”

  He pulled back. “Rowen?”

  Her eyes went out of focus. A strangled cry escaped her lips. She began to slip to the ground.

  “Rowen, what’s wrong?”

  “Lore, my hand. They took—” She gurgled again.

  He looked down. Where her hand used to be was a bloody stump, slowly sliding down his middle, leaving a red streak across his shirt.

  “No, no, Rowen!” He caught her beneath her arms and held her. “Somebody help me!” He looked around, but there were only the trees. Oh Word, help me!

  She began to fade, her form growing more transparent by the second.

  Lore gasped. “No, no. Don’t go, Rowen. You can’t leave. I need you! And you need me.”

  Rowen looked up, her body almost gone. “Lore . . .”

  “I’m coming. Do you hear me? I’m coming!”

  She disappeared, along with the field and trees.

  Lore opened his eyes and sat up. His training took over. He held still and assessed the area around him. A fire burned low, far off to his left. The ocean flowed somewhere in the darkness to his right. He could both hear it and feel it in his blood. Slowly, the stars came back into the sky.

  He wasn’t in that field anymore. No more trees, no more grass. Rowen was gone. Instead, he was back in the country of Kerre with Caleb and Nierne.

  He lifted his hand and placed it on the area just above his heart. It had seemed so real. He hadn’t seen Rowen that clearly in weeks. And in the dream Rowen seemed to think it was real as well. Was it possible he had just seen her? Really seen her?

  Maybe. There were stories of bonded Avonain couples sensing each other across great distances, mainly between ship captains and their wives when one was near death. Something about their Avonain blood, the sea, and the bonding between them, creating a temporary link. Even then, it was such a rare event that he had forgotten about it until now.

  But Rowen wasn’t Avonain. Or did her Eldaran blood allow her to connect with him?

  Lore stared ahead at the darkness. Did he really just see her? And was her hand . . . gone?

  “Oh Word.”

  The Shadonae were no longer beings in stories that conjured a fear of the past, of the Nordic Wars, and the people who died during that time. No, they were real, living, sadistic beings that sent shadow-wraiths into villages to kill men, women, and children. Beings who maimed others.

  He held his hands in two tight fists. Now he truly understood the fear that had prevailed during the Nordic Wars. These Shadonae were evil incarnate.

  “I will fight them. I don’t know how, but I will do it.” He stared up at the night sky. “And I will find you, Rowen, even if it costs me everything.”

  Chapter

  31

  Caleb hovered by the small fire, stirring the contents of the pot that hung above the flames. The smell of the grainy cereal filled the air. The sun climbed the hills to the east, spreading its pale light across the faded grass. Clouds, pink and orange, hung along the horizon. Behind him the surf whooshed across the beach.

  Nierne woke nearby. A moment later she sat up and brushed her hair away from her face.

  Caleb tapped the wooden spoon on the side of the pot. “Breakfast is almost ready.”

  “Breakfast?” She blinked a couple times.

  “Yes. I couldn’t sleep, so I went back to the village early this morning and found supplies, sacks of grain, some vegetables, salted meats, and cheese. No bread, though. What I found had spoiled.”

  “Oh.” She turned and looked back behind her. Half a mile away the house they had used as a pyre had collapsed during the night. Now a pile of wood and rubble stood smoking in its place. Her body stiffened.

  Caleb frowned and laid the spoon down. Perhaps he shouldn’t have brought up the village. Apparently she had forgotten about it until he said something.

  She turned back, pale now. “I think I will wash up before we eat.” She pulled her pack to herself and rummaged around, looking for something.

  “I found some clothes for you, if you like.”

  Her head jerked up. “You what?”

  Instead of repeating himself, he walked over to a pile of blankets and clothing he had collected along with the food. He pulled out a long blue tunic and small pair of tan breeches. Nierne came and looked over his shoulder. He also pulled out some undergarments and stood. “Here.” He held out the garments. “I figured you would rather have pants than a dress for riding.”

  She didn’t answer. Instead, her gaze was on the fistful of undergarments.

  “I’m pretty sure they’re your size.”

  Two bright spots appeared on her cheeks. She snatched the clothes, then the undergarments, stuffing the bits of white cloth beneath the tunic. “Thank you,” she mumbled and turned.

  Caleb snorted. It wasn’t the first time he had seen a woman’s undergarments. Then he remembered— “Wait, Nierne. I have some soap too.”

  She looked back. “You do?” Her cheeks were still bright pink.

  He pulled out a cream-colored soap bar, the edges smoothed from use. It had a lavender scent to it, one reason he had grabbed it. Not as nice as the desert rose scent from back home, but she would like it. Something feminine. Well . . . he liked it. “Here.”

  She took the bar. “Thank you,” she said, her eyes on the soap.

  “There is a small stream to the north, about a ten minute walk from here.” He pointed nort
h. “You can’t miss it. And I’ll let Lore know you went, so you can have some privacy.”

  She bit her lower lip, like she was holding something in.

  Caleb cocked his head. “Everything all right?”

  She nodded, turned, and hurried in the direction he had pointed.

  Caleb watched her. Had he done something wrong? All the women he knew would have appreciated something that smelled good and a place to wash up, especially after weeks of travel. Sure, it wasn’t a bath—what he wouldn’t give to enjoy a long soak in a bathing room back home—but it was better than a sponge bath.

  He shook his head and shrugged. He might have every other woman in this world figured out, but Nierne wasn’t like any woman he had ever known.

  He stirred the cereal again as Lore came walking up from the beach. His hair was wet and his skin had a fresh glow to it. The man must have gone for a swim in the ocean.

  “Smells good.” Lore placed his blanket, rolled up, beside his pack.

  “I went back into Deraude this morning for supplies.” Using two thick cloths, Caleb moved the pot from the fire and placed it on a stone slab.

  Lore picked up the wooden bowls he had found earlier that morning and handed him one.

  He dished up the cereal. “I also found the horses.” He handed the bowl to Lore.

  “You did? Where?”

  “They are grazing on the other side of Deraude. I calmed them down and took off their saddles, then left them there to graze. When we are ready to leave, we can retrieve them.” He finished spooning cereal into the other two bowls.

  Lore blew on the cereal. “I take it you didn’t sleep much last night.”

  Caleb placed the bowls down by the pot. “No. Once the sun started coming up, I figured I might as well do something useful. Found clothes, food, new waterskins, which I’ve already filled, and even a map.”

  Lore nodded and took a bite. He huffed a little, then swallowed. “Still a bit hot, but good. I wouldn’t have pegged you as a cook.”

  Caleb shrugged and grabbed his own bowl. “I learned at a young age to take care of myself. I might have lived in a palace, but many of my missions took me away from the city.”