Shine: The Knowing Ones

by Amy Freeman

  Trin looked on in anguish, wracked with the pain his mentor was feeling, stunned by the revelation of Ashbel’s innocence, and the devastation of the inevitable task he would have to carry out. He had no choice. Everything Ashbel had said was true. It was the only way to stop Chernobog. It was the only way to save Sam’s life.

  Sam gripped Trin’s hand. Lifting her eyes to the still unmoving scene, the slightest hint of momentum could be felt. “It’s starting again,” she said, pulling herself up by Trin’s arm.

  Trin and Anvil glanced at their surroundings as the slow shift accelerated.

  Ashbel spun around. “Natasha is nearly gone. You’re out of time. I cannot hold him back any longer.” He turned to Trin. “Trinton, the kindjal,” he commanded. “It is in my right hand.”

  Anvil launched forward. “NO! There has to be another way!” He looked upon his brother, desperation wracking his features. “There is no justice in this,” he pled. “You have not earned this punishment.”

  Ashbel looked upon his brother, eyes shining with moisture. “This is no punishment,” he said. “I am a slave, Anvil. My foolishness has made me so. Trinton is not taking me from you tonight. He is giving me back to you.” He placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I am captive. So is Anavi. We all are. I experience everything the demon does as if I were committing it. I can bear this no longer. Please...set me free.”

  The environment began to spin as the momentum increased. Ashbel pulled his shattered brother to him in a tight embrace, his lips above his ear. “When your time arrives, brother...come find me.” He glanced at Trin, nodded once and looked his brother in the eyes. “I will be waiting.”

  A screeching whine accompanied the return of time, releasing the captive images of the chaos that had been frozen long enough for the only thing that would save them to be set in motion.

  Ashbel released his brother, turning to Trin in urgency. “Trinton—the kindjal.”

  Time erupted into motion and everything was as it had been before the pause. Everything Trin had been taught, everything he had been trained for rested solidly in his broken heart as he lunged like lightening toward Ashbel’s right hand. The demon turned just in time to see the new Keeper of the Veduny tribe diving toward him and he felt the kindjal being ripped from his grasp. A howl of menacing fury erupted from deep inside Ashbel’s body. With his focus interrupted, the young woman, Natasha, dropped to the ground, no longer in the clutches of his powerful mind.

  Trin turned to face the monster, looking him in the eyes. The black seething lenses did not belong to Ashbel and made it easier for him to raise the dagger. Solid conviction coursed through him, and with his unparalleled power, he lunged forward, burying the blade deep into the demon’s heart, pinning him against the lone crimson tower. Inhuman, braying screams shot to the skies as Ashbel’s blood soaked into the alexandrite behind him. The color of the pillar began to change.

  CHAPTER FIFTY NINE

  T he seven giant crystalline pillars flickered—crimson lightning striking within their walls. Ashbel’s right hand shot out, grabbing Trinton’s jacket in his powerful grasp.

  Trin’s eyes jerked to the sudden fist holding his coat. An unexpected rush filled his heart as he was met with the golden Keeper’s chain around Ashbel’s wrist. Electric light flickered beneath the gold plate where the Alexandrite stone responded to the realignment of Veduny power. Trin felt an undeniable shift in the warrior’s aura and he looked up into his face, no longer the face of a demon—the face of the man who had taught and trained him, resembling Anvil in every way. With his last breath he looked upon Trin with the purest sincerity.

  His eyes flashed from bitter black to a blinding radiant jade, glowing with the light of redemption. “Thank you.”

  A glorious golden blue light lifted from Ashbel’s lifeless body, filling the winds, and escaping into the parting heavens above.

  Anvil dropped to his knees and wept with Sam at his side, arms wrapped around his strong shoulders.

  Tears stung Trin’s eyes as the warrior’s massive body fell into him. Trin supported Ashbel’s formidable frame, pulling the blade from his heart as Anvil’s men attended to Natasha, healing her wounds, ensuring her safety and that of the baby she carried; the sacred bloodline of the Veduny Goddess Gea.

  Cresting the hill, an army of Veduny warriors rode across the flat snow-covered landscape toward them. The blast and shift in the moon had been an undeniable signal they were needed, even though they knew there might not be anything they could do once they arrived. They didn’t expect to see what they found.

  The new Keeper held the kindjal and the body of the fallen Keeper. Anvil, their captain, knelt not far from them, grieving with the Oracle at his side.

  The pillars shone in brilliant green, the conduit realigned with the Divinity. The garnet moon blinked to bright white casting a radiant glow across the mystical plateau and the energy in the air was clean.

  Trin lowered the powerful warrior’s body to the snowy earth—a flood of emotions crushing him. He gazed upon his lifeless body with tear-filled eyes, staring at the great warrior he had never known but who had given his life to restore his people’s security, the warrior who would live on through his twin brother and his great-great-great-granddaughter; Trin’s charge—and his reason for living.

  He hadn’t failed Sam. He now realized his duty to protect her had only just begun. She was now the most powerful Veduny with all of Ashbel’s work ahead of her. Trin now knew all this time his job so far had been to get her here so her mission could truly begin.

  The demon still lived. He would try again. But the Veduny tribe knew too much now and soon all of humanity would acknowledge their own power, weakening the Black God’s ability to try.

  Natasha had been sent on her way, laden with all the provisions they could give her. She had to complete her journey the same way she had planned in order to avoid altering the future and risking Sam’s place in it.

  Llamar had gone to assure her safe departure. Trin, Sam, and Anvil stood in the grand sitting room where a fire had been built to warm their chilled bodies. The task at hand was to get Sam and Trin back to the time they had come from. They had work to do and every moment they remained in the past jeopardized that work. Sam and Trin had changed back into their own clothes and they were ready to go.

  Anvil looked fondly at Trin. “What does one say in a situation like this?” he asked with lighthearted sorrow. “I will not see you for so many years and you are a brother to me already.”

  Trin grinned. “I’ll probably see you in about five minutes, full of advice and a long list of rules to follow.”

  Anvil laughed. “Am I really that bad?”

  Trin’s playful smile faded to a look of undeniable humility and respect. “It is because of you that I am who I am,” he said. “I can’t imagine going through it all without you.”

  Anvil nodded. “I truly look forward to the day you are born.”

  The two massive men grabbed a hand and pulled each other into a hug. He turned to Sam, taking both her hands in his. He tilted his head to the side in adoration. “My niece, what an honor this has been.”

  Sam smiled, her emotions right at the surface. She hugged him tightly. She had redone her hair as it was when she was taken, adorned with white floral clips. She pulled one of them out of her hair, took his hand, and placed it against his palm. “Thank you,” she whispered, “for everything.”

  Anvil looked down at the dainty white lily, so much emotion swirling through him; so many significant events to process. Sam gave him another quick hug, unable to endure the moment any longer, and turned to Trin. “Where do I send us?” she asked him. She had full access to all of Ashbel’s gifts and time travel was no longer difficult for her.

  Trin studied her for a moment. “Your performance, before I spoke to Anna.”

  Sam gazed at him, thinking of her friend, and her heart filled simultaneously with joy and fear.

  “You can do this,” he a
ssured her.

  Sam nodded, squeezing his powerful hands. She moved into his welcoming embrace and they both turned to Anvil for one last goodbye.

  Trin smiled. “See you in a few,” he said.

  Anvil smiled through his sorrow. “In a few...” he replied and lifted a hand. A rushing sound and a blinding white light sucked them into a brilliant flash, and they were gone.

  Anvil stood in the silent, empty room by himself. He remained for a while, absorbing the magnitude of the many overwhelming occurrences that had taken place within a few short hours. History had been changed. His people had been saved and so had his brother. He lowered his head and smiled. The smile soon faded into the emptiness of the ever present cavern of sorrow that had been carved out of his chest when Anavi had been taken from him.

  He stood motionless in the large, beautiful room experiencing the searing sting of it again for the first time since the arrival of his visitors. In the quiet, by himself, he was left with nothing else.

  The environment shimmered. Anvil lifted his eyes, bewildered. A distinct energy charged the space around him. Squinting in confusion, he tried to place the odd sensation. He glanced around the room, scanning, when his attention fell to the empty space across from him.

  Luminescent wisps of golden blue light materialized, swirling in the air, growing, expanding, touching the floor, shimmering with Veduny essence. His breath caught in his throat, and her form fully manifested.

  She stood in a halo of light, long dark tresses flowing past her shoulders, enchanting blue eyes radiant with angelic power. The massive warrior fell to his knees, head falling forward as his strong, masculine hands hit the floor. The fearless, rational facade his tribe relied upon fractured at its core, falling away to reveal months of pent-up agony and despair, and he began to weep.

  Anavi moved, celestial gown billowing as she dropped down in front of him. Tears came to her eyes as she put a hand to his face. Her touch, which he hadn’t felt for so long, ripped the aching wound wider, erupting through him like an electrical surge, because he knew it could not last. “Why?” he whispered, pleading in anguish through silent sobs. “Why have they allowed you to come to me when I can barely stand living with even your memory?”

  She brought her other hand to his face. “My love,” she whispered through her tears. “They have sent me to stay.”

  With broken hope he did not dare to entertain he lifted his tear-filled gaze to hers, his eyes begging her to explain.

  “I have been assigned to you for the remainder of your life,” she said. “Llamar is your guide, but I am your companion. I will remain with you until you crossover and join me here. You do not have to live your life without me,” she said, “and I no longer have to wait for you.”

  Fresh tears spilled from his eyes as the miracle of what she had just said sunk in. He collapsed into her open arms, head against her breast weeping unabated tears of inexpressible joy. They held each other and wept.

  CHAPTER SIXTY

  Arushing sound, followed by a blinding light, filled the stairwell of the backstage area of the dance building and Sam and Trin materialized out of thin air. Sam quickly glanced around, taking in their surroundings, making certain she had been successful. Up above, she heard muted music coming from the stage area; the musical score from the ballet she had been cast in before the nightmare had set in. Trin lifted a hand to her chin, tilting it up and kissed her.

  “Go on,” he said. “I’ll alert Mikhail and find Anna. We’ll meet you in the lobby when you’re done.”

  “How do you know where she is?”

  “She’s at the library,” he said, climbing the stairs. “She was there when I called her.” He motioned to the stage. “Go.”

  With a swelling feeling of uncertainty and anticipation Sam turned, mounting the stairs toward her performance. She had come in just in time, as she could hear her entrance cue approaching. As she filtered her way through the wings and the other dancers, she tried valiantly to act as though nothing had happened; as though her life had not just been turned completely upside down, as if she had no knowledge of mystical tribes and villages in distant mountain ranges on the other side of the world, as if she had no special power herself, as if monsters and demons didn’t manifest through people who were once good, destroying them in the process.

  The music sang out, sounding her cue, and she floated out onto the stage focusing wholly on the sound of it, allowing it to filter through her and move her body. She tuned it all out, everything apart from the music and danced.

  When the showcase came to a close, the audience rose again in a standing ovation, clapping wildly at the remarkable performance of the lead ballerina. Sam curtsied again and again, trying to smile and keep up the façade. All she could think of was bolting off the stage and into the lobby. She needed to see for herself that her best friend was still alive and well; no injuries, no memories.

  After what seemed like an eternity, the curtain finally came down and Sam shot off the stage, leaving Ivan in a state of confusion. She bounded through the dressing room and up the stairs, ignoring the fact that she was still in costume and rounded the corner to the lobby.

  The audience had just been released into the foyer and it was packed. Sam stood scanning, searching, tracking energy, which was so much easier now.

  At first, it was just a myriad of strangers, brilliant human energy in varying degrees of strength and dimension moving consistently throughout the crowd, and then she saw golden blue emerge from the center of it. Her heart rate accelerated as she waited in frantic anticipation of the energy she hoped would follow—it did.

  The first thing she noticed was her smile—that contagious, “who gives a crap” grin that lit up a room, melted Vig’s heart, and comforted Sam. She was looking away, talking to someone and hadn’t seen Sam yet, but Trin had and he pulled her in Sam’s direction. Unable to contain herself any longer, Sam raced down the hall and tackled her, throwing her arms around her friend and began to weep.

  “Whoa Sam!” she exclaimed, nearly being knocked off her feet. She tried to pull back to ask her what in the world was up but found she couldn’t pry her away. Anna paused a moment and then asked “Sam, are you crying?” A look of alarm colored her features as she glanced at Trin to explain what horrible thing had happened. But he was smiling. Her face twisted in confusion. “What...what is up with you two?” She finally pulled away enough to see Sam’s face—tear-stained and unable to speak.

  Trin shook his head and laughed. “Come on, let’s go,” he said, guiding Sam back down the hallway to retrieve her things so they could leave. Anna looked from Trin to Sam and back. “What is going on?” she demanded.

  “She’ll tell you in the truck,” he replied, urging them to keep moving.

  “Pop up! You have to pop up, Sam. It won’t work if you slowly stand one foot at a time.”

  “I’m trying!”

  He had taken her home to San Diego. After a whirlwind trip into the arctic past, he had insisted they go somewhere warm with the time they had blocked off in anticipation of flying to Russia. But now he faced an even more difficult task than defeating Chernobog. Sam had asked him to teach her to surf.

  They had practiced on the beach and now they were out in the water, Trin trying desperately to get her up on the board. Every time a wave began to form, she would panic and try to stand slowly and deliberately as though she were pushing herself up on a balancing beam. This tossed her into the sea every time.

  Trin reached into the surf and fished her out, coughing and pushing the saltwater away from her eyes. He grinned down at her, shaking his head.

  Sam pushed her hair back from her face. “This sport is impossible!”

  “You really do suck...”

  Sam’s brilliant eyes shot daggers as she shoved him back—hard—not moving him an inch. “Ugh!”

  Trin chuckled as Sam pushed her hands through her hair in frustration. “This is seriously the hardest thing I have ever tried to learn.�
��

  Trin laughed out loud. “Yeah...without question.”

  Sam rolled her eyes. “This is really hard!”

  “You’re making it hard like you always do,” he said. “You’re using all the wrong tactics.”

  Sam glared.

  “You have more to draw from than most people,” he reminded her. “Don’t just use your muscles, Sam. Will yourself. The next wave that comes, engage what you have learned, not just today but since we met. The only thing stopping you from getting up on that board is you.”

  Sam climbed back onto the surfboard, grumbling under her breath, but she also knew he was right. If she could hurl two Keepers, a head Elder and five Veduny warriors backward with just a thought she could get up on this stupid board.

  The water began to rise in the distance behind them. “Okay, Sam, here it comes. He climbed onto his board, face down, and watched over his shoulder. “Okay...now!” He began paddling and Sam did the same, trying to keep up. She mulled over the instructions he had given her all morning, but most of all she seized the will to stand over and over believing she could, knowing she could, knowing all it took was the belief it was possible and she already had all the right tools, therefore, nothing could prevent it.

  “Ready, Sam? Go!” Trin effortlessly popped up on the board with perfect grace like he always did, and to her surprise, so did she.

  “Hahaha!” she screamed, working to keep her balance. It wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t beautiful, but she did it.

  “That’s my girl!”

  After a few moments she lost her balance and reacquainted herself with her good friend ocean, but she had done it. She had gotten up on the board.

  They spent the whole day at the beach, surfing and messing around. After a while, she just watched him surf, marveling at his symbiotic relationship with the ocean and the ease and grace with which he tackled and rode every wave that came in. He was positively elegant. Occasionally, his hand would carve into the tube, evoking shimmering light as the water responded to his touch.