by Amy Freeman
Sam nodded. “Thank you.”
Anvil turned, leaving the room. Trin glanced back at Sam. “I’ll be right outside the door,” he said. Sam nodded. He kissed her forehead and steadied her before leaving, closing the door behind him.
Sam stood for a moment, looking around the room. She drew in a deep breath, her mind spinning with images of Anavi. She made her way to the massive wardrobe, laying a hand on the crafted wood, letting it trail down the side—remarkable quality, far more elegant and solid than anything she had ever seen.
She reached for the brass handle and pulled, the large, heavy door coming open. After a moment of hesitation she pulled it wide and gasped A breathtaking assortment of hand-sewn gowns hung in a row before her, all ornate and full of color. She couldn’t imagine how long it must’ve taken to make just one of these gowns. Sam scanned the collection, feeling unworthy to touch any of them—like she was robbing a tomb of respected royalty. Finally, knowing Trin would worry and really not knowing how much time they had before they were discovered she forced herself to reach into the wardrobe, touching the gown directly in front of her. She gazed, fingering the material. The fabric was of the finest quality, the stitching secure. Sam pushed the dresses apart, bringing more impossibly beautiful gowns into view, revealing one after the other until she came to one that stopped her. She froze.
Red velvet, bodice crusted in gemstones. Attached at the neckline, a breathtaking beaded headdress. With rapid breath she stared at the gown Anavi had worn when she had appeared to Sam—the gown she had worn the night she died. Sam stared, unable to look away.
A pull ignited from within the wardrobe, calling to her, a strange yet urgent need to touch the gown. She lifted a hand to the material, reaching out. Her fingers made contact—instant darkness.
She lay on a bed, silenced, unable to move. The dark warrior entered the room—heavenly eyes muted in black, observing, staring as he rounded the bed. Sam watched as he reached into his cloak, taking the bindings, and flinging them in her direction, her wrists instantly bound to the bed posts. Sam could feel the rough leather tight against her skin. She gazed unwillingly into Ashbel’s seething black eyes. He moved in close and Anavi’s thoughts erupted in Sam’s head.
Что вы с ним сделали?
Despite her own growing hysteria, Sam ordered herself to repeat the Russian words over and over in her mind. She looked into his vacant eyes as he pulled the kindjal from his belt, panic rising, heart pounding. Once again the unremitting feeling of loss washed over her in a wave. He lifted the blade above her. The seven massive rock formations flashed through her mind and the earth lurched beneath them.
Sam jolted with a start from the paralyzing vision, gripping Anavi’s gown so tightly her fist shook. With a deep exhale she forced herself to release it, feeling compelled to smooth the significant wrinkles she had caused, but she didn’t dare touch the gown again. Her heart pounded in her chest as Trin’s voice filtered through the closed door. “Sam, are you all right?”
She took a deep breath. “I’m fine. I’ll be right out.” She pushed through the gowns and found one that didn’t resemble anything she had seen in any vision and pulled it from the hanger—a deep velvet blue, masterfully beaded and fairly heavy to guard against the cold. She stripped off her dance costume, folding it neatly on the bed. Taking the gown by the shoulders she stepped into it, pulling it up over her body. It felt heavy and right. She slipped her arms into the sleeves and pulled them over her shoulders. She turned to the side where a mirror stood next to the wardrobe. She stared. She hardly recognized herself. A mental flash of Anavi lit up in her head and she realized this was who Anvil saw every time he looked at her. Turning toward the door, she kept her eyes on her reflection. “Trin?”
The knob turned, the door opening. “Do you want me to come in?” he asked. Peering into the room a bit more, he caught sight of Sam. He pushed the door wide and stared, pausing in the doorway, processing the image in front of him. “Wow,” he said.
Sam‘s shoulders dropped in resignation. “I can’t do up the back.”
Trin moved toward her, reaching for the zipper that lined the back of the dress. He gently pulled it closed and then rested his hands on her arms, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Sam stared too.
“I know,” she said responding to his unspoken thought.
He nodded. “It’s really something,” he said. “Anvil is already freaking out.”
Sam glanced up, eyes pained. The last thing she wanted to do was contribute to Anvil’s agony. Trin’s eyes softened. “You can’t do anything about it, Sam,” he said. “He’ll be okay. It’s just startling, that’s all.” Trin went over to the wardrobe, reached in, and grabbed some boots for her to pull on. Sam took her hair down and shook it out, pulling her fingers through it. “Put these on,” he said. “There’s probably an overcoat in the wardrobe somewhere. You’ll need that, too.”
Sam did as he instructed while Trin retrieved the coat from the wardrobe and brought it to her, helping her put it on. He stood back, giving her a once-over. She looked like ancient Russian royalty—breathtaking. “You feeling okay?” he asked.
Sam nodded. “Are you?”
His eyes said enough. He was not fine. “I will be. Let’s go.”
“Trin?”
He looked down at her. “Anna?” She stopped. It was all she could muster.
Trin’s eyes grew distant. “That’s one of the things I’m here to fix,” he answered. Sam looked down in an effort not to cry. “Where is she?”
“She is with Mikhail. It will be like it never happened.”
“If we get back,” Sam added.
Trin didn’t respond. She was right. He took her hand and guided her through the bedroom door and down the vaulted hallway. Trin sent a mental warning to Anvil, well-concealed from Sam. She already felt badly enough. Anvil needed to be prepared for what he was about to see. They reached the broad staircase and descended right as Anvil and Llamar came into view. Anvil went pale and cast his gaze aside.
The searing pain was more than evident in his emerald eyes as she took the last of the steps to the foyer. Llamar remained silent. Sam didn’t know what to say. She wanted to apologize. She wanted to roll back time and put her freezing dance clothes back on. She found herself unable to say anything. Her countenance said everything she could not say. Anvil neutralized his aura the same way Trin always did and forced a smile. “You look beautiful, Samantha.”
“Thank you,” she replied, anguished. “Thank you for letting me wear this. It’s much...warmer.”
Anvil’s smile softened. “Yes, I would imagine.”
Sam looked to the three men. “What now?”
“We get you to the council,” Trin said without hesitation.
“Your safety comes first,” Llamar said. “You will be protected in the temple sanctuary with the council. They are waiting for us there now.” He turned. “Anvil, you will need to take her—”
“Why can’t I take her?” Trin interrupted.
“She is concealed in Anvil’s energy. If she rides with him Ashbel will not detect her. If you take her we run the risk of him seeing you. You are, unfortunately, still a great compass for him in locating Sam.”
Trin’s anxiety was palpable. He trusted Anvil more than anyone. But the track record of success was just not there. Whenever he left her side, catastrophe ensued. And no matter how he twisted it, Lamar was one hundred percent correct. He took a deep breath. “How long will it take you, Anvil?” he asked.
“I can make the ride there and back in twenty minutes,” he answered offering as much comfort as possible. “I will guard her with my life, Trinton.”
Trin returned his vehement gaze. He knew he was thinking of how he had lost Anavi and how he would die before allowing Ashbel to claim Trin’s charge.
Trin nodded in assent. He turned to Sam, cupping her face in his hands. “You will be safe with Anvil,” he said. “Do not leave his side. Do exactly as the
Elders say.” He looked at her with absolute conviction. “I will not let you down again.”
“You never have,” she said.
He leaned in, kissing her lips. He couldn’t bring himself to release her. Intentionally sending her away felt unbearably wrong.
“You must give her to Anvil, Trinton,” Llamar said. “We are running out of time.”
Trin’s glacier eyes bore into Sam’s soul as he forced himself to let his hands fall from her face. “I will come for you,” he promised.
“I know you will.” Sam’s heart shattered as Anvil gently moved her toward the massive castle door. The last time she had watched Trin leave she had lost him. She knew he was thinking the same thing as he cloaked the exploding pain that tore through his heart. Anvil put on a heavy hooded cloak, giving Sam the same. He looked upon Trin one last time, visually swearing his allegiance and then guided Sam out the door toward the stable.
Trin stared at the door even after it had closed, jaw tight. He shut down every emotion, converting the indescribable pain into focused fury. Fierce anger and the need to rectify the colossal mess that lay at his feet flamed within him. He turned to Llamar. “Let’s do this.”
CHAPTER FIFTY
T ime was of the essence. At midnight, the winter solstice would begin and Sam had to be off the radar, hidden until the tribe had possession of the kindjal. Once the solstice began everything would be against them.
Anvil raced his horse up the countryside, holding Sam tightly in front of him. The temple was not far off but the snow, cold wind, and darkness made the ride difficult. At many points during the journey, Anvil was tempted to curb the winds, but he knew this would alert his brother to his location, so he let the winds howl. The terrain became steeper and more difficult to navigate. Anvil slowed his horse in response and continued guiding him up the all but buried path toward the temple.
Sam turned to him. “Anvil?”
He gave a tug to the reins. “Yes?”
“The visions I have,” she began. “Some of them include Anavi and that night...”
Anvil remained silent. She watched him for a moment—his brilliant green eyes radiant against his black hair, masculine features yielding to a sweet humility and unparalleled strength. He was so beautiful. They all were.
Sam glanced down, continuing. “You have dreams of her as well, where she can’t communicate with you, but she is trying...”
Anvil paused. “That is correct.”
“You told me that when I first met you, before I came here that is...” she said. “Anavi is trying to tell me something,” she said. “I think she’s trying to show me through visions because she can’t communicate.”
Anvil guided his horse around an unexpected bit of rocky path. “What do you mean?” he asked.
“I had a vision,” Sam said. “It was like I was her...I experienced what she experienced...the night she died.” She paused a moment, choosing her words. “I thought maybe if I explained what Anavi saw, felt, or even thought, you might be able to help me piece together what she is trying to tell me.”
Anvil turned an emerald gaze on her. “You heard her thoughts?”
“In that final moment, yes” she said. “Just now at the castle, when I was looking through her wardrobe. The gown she wears in my dream was hanging there. When I touched it, I experienced her death, as if it were me,” she said. “I know her feelings and I heard her thoughts, but I don’t speak Russian.”
Right as Sam finished telling him this, the trees parted and the Ivanova temple was in plain view—majestic, ancient like a temple one might see in an unearthed ruin, but palatial and immaculately kept. As they approached the pathway to the entrance, a large man in ceremonial robes stepped out of the enormous doors to let them in.
The darkened skies and freezing wind made their climb difficult but the horse boldly made his way to the top of the stone path that gave them direct access to the temple. Anvil stopped the horse, looking vacantly ahead into the wind. “Can you repeat what she said?”
“Yes,” Sam replied. “I’ll try to say it.” She formed the words as carefully as she could, then glanced up at him in angst. “Did I say it right? Do you know what she said?”
Anvil sat upon his horse with a distant expression. “Yes,” he replied. “But I do not know why.”
“What does that mean?” she asked, hating herself for bringing him into Anavi’s last moments.
“It means ‘What have you done to him’.”
“Who?” she asked.
Anvil looked down and shook his head. “Me, perhaps. I am not certain. Come,” he said. “We must get you inside.” He climbed off the massive horse and helped Sam down. The elderly man put an arm around her, pulled her cloak tightly about her and guided her in from cold. Anvil followed, guiding his horse through the large doors to protect him from the formidable winds.
The man released Samantha and quickly closed the heavy doors to the temple behind them. He turned and took Anvil’s hand, patting him on the shoulder with the other. Then he turned to Sam. He knew who she was and it showed in his expression and his countenance. She could also see the now expected element of surprise at her resemblance to Anavi. He stared at her a moment and then at Anvil who nodded faintly in the man’s direction, acknowledging the likeness.
The man lifted his chin and smiled. “Well, we did not see this day coming,” he said. “The Divinity does keep us guessing.” He took Sam’s hand, covering it with his own. “My name is Aleksei. I am one of the Elders in the Veduny council. Samantha, I speak for all of us when I say we are honored to have you in our presence. We just cannot fathom that an event of this magnitude does not have a foreordained purpose for the tribe, for everyone.” He released her hand and gestured toward large double doors. “Please,” he said. “Come with me.”
Anvil and Sam followed Aleksei through the double doors and into a massive courtyard with high stone walls. Masterfully carved into the upper half of the walls were large glyphs, strange and foreign but beautifully intriguing. As she walked through with the two men, gazing upon the workmanship, one of the symbols jumped out at her. She knew this one—Trin’s bracelet. Sam pointed to the symbol. “I know that,” she said. “It’s engraved in the bracelet Trin wears.”
Anvil stared at the symbol. “Your Keeper’s element is water...” his voice trailed off.
“Yes,” Sam replied.
The corner of Anvil’s mouth twitched upward and she saw sadness in his eyes. “That makes sense,” he said.
Sam stared at him as they continued walking. “I don’t understand.”
Anvil looked down at her and smiled with sorrowful acceptance. “Ashbel’s element is fire.” Anvil looked away and kept walking. Sam gazed upon him for a moment longer and then quietly walked by his side. She couldn’t imagine the loss. She acknowledged the pain of losing his wife, but at that moment she realized he had lost more than that. He had also lost a brother.
Sam’s gaze returned to the ornate symbols on the imposing stone walls. She figured they represented other elements. Sam looked down at Anvil’s right wrist where his own bracelet hung. She couldn’t see the underside but she was certain it also contained the stone and the symbol for air. She wondered which one it was.
At that moment they arrived at a large iron gate. Aleksei pushed against it with vigor, the metal hinges whining as it swung open. They entered another pathway, following it down to another courtyard. As they passed through the entrance Sam caught her breath at what lay before her. Erected near the far end of the courtyard was an impressive rectangular structure with steps leading up to the large ornate door. The entire construction appeared to be made of gold and at this point she wouldn’t have been surprised if it was.
At that moment six others filtered into the hall—three women and three men. They all wore the same ceremonial robes Aleksei wore. They all bore the remarkable Veduny aura of white blue, except for one who had an additional lilac strain. It was faint but visible. This was the hea
d Elder. She knew because Mikhail carried the same strain.
He stepped forward and bowed toward her. “Samantha, we are honored,” he said. “We do not have much time. The winter solstice will begin in approximately two hours. Whatever Ashbel intends to do he is waiting for the solstice to begin. If we can find him before then, we will. But once the solstice begins it is imperative he not find you. From midnight until sunrise, the alexandrite that fills these mountains will be at its highest vibration. Trinton has informed us we no longer govern its power and you seem to be the missing ingredient to complete Ashbel’s plan.” Dobrushin turned and gestured toward the large golden door at the top of the steps. “This is where the Oracle has always communed with the Divinity. No one has entered since Anavi’s death.” He turned back to Sam. “No one is allowed inside except for the Oracle and her Keeper. You will be safe inside. I cannot imagine a power great enough to get past that door. There are some things the Divinity will simply not allow.”
Sam looked up the steps to the door. She didn’t feel worthy to enter. She hadn’t even completed her training. She had experienced some of her abilities on accident but she really didn’t feel like that counted.
Dobrushin sensed her feeling of inadequacy. “Samantha,” he said. “The Oracle is who you are, not what you have thus far accomplished. Where you are in your journey is irrelevant. This is the safest place for you to be.”
Sam nodded, looking again to the door. “So I will be here until you find Ashbel or until the sun rises. Is that correct?”
“That is correct,” he replied. “Should you need anything, one of us will be outside the doors standing guard at all times. You need only send a message,” he said. He looked at her. “Have you used this ability yet?”
“Yes,” she nodded. She thought of Trin and the weight of his absence returned. It would be a very long night. She thought about where he would be and what he would be doing while she sat safely in this majestic haven. She turned to Dobrushin. “How will I know Trin is safe?”
