by Eden Ashley
The canopy of trees filtered sunlight through their branches, forming spider webs of light across the undergrowth. Rhane saw the metallic glint of something hidden in the lush green carpet, nearly centered in the clearing. He was drawn to it, unable to resist the lure of its shine. He ignored the stillness that suddenly fell as his hand closed around the leather wrapped hilt. His fingertips found the ridged inlay of detail a silversmith had intricately carved in the blade a lifetime ago. Bellefuron. The metal sighed, emitting a satisfied hum as if recognizing its true owner. On top of that melodious sound followed the dull roar of air splitting perilously close to Rhane’s head. He lifted the sword overhead and behind. The air cracked again, this time with the ring of metal on metal.
He whirled to face the man who attacked, wielding Bellefuron to meet a violent flurry of strikes. He backed to the edge of the clearing, his blood awakening to the challenge. Rhane countered. Exchanging defense for offense, he cut mercilessly at every weak point. The two men danced to the center of the clearing and fell back. Blades held in opposite high and low guards, they circled dangerously, each calculating the other’s next move.
Rhane stared into pale blue eyes, trying to read them. “Why are you here, River?”
“Do you remember the last time we saw one another? We were sent to hunt the siren, to take her life as payment for the ones she stole. Then why was it I who ended up feeling the pain of my brother’s blade? You betrayed us.” River charged. Feinting left, he extended a short chop aimed for Rhane’s head. Ducking just in time, Rhane lifted his sword to match the next thrust of River’s blade, leaning his weight forward when the two weapons locked.
“I couldn’t let you hurt her,” he said.
River grunted under the strength of Rhane’s attack. “You knew what she was. You knew what she had done.”
“No. We weren’t there. We don’t know what happened.”
“Hundreds of bodies burned. One of our Primes slain. You were a fool, brother. Only your precious siren had the strength to murder a Prime.”
Rhane tensed. “I saw her afterwards. She was terrified. She was even afraid of me.”
“Don’t you see? That fear confirms her guilt.” River shoved away. Blades free, their dance began anew. River landed harder and faster blows, fueling his charge with anger. Putting all his weight behind one maddened sweep, his blade landed near the hilt of Rhane’s sword. The aftershock rippled down Rhane’s forearm, tearing the heavy weapon from his hand. River continued the onslaught and knocked him roughly to the ground. “You delivered that thing into our midst,” he snarled and brought his sword down in a deadly arc.
For the first time since entering the clearing, Rhane got angry. With bare hands, he caught River’s weapon in mid-arc, ignoring the searing pain as he wrenched it away. Tossing the sword aside, he brought his fist forward. It connected squarely. River’s head snapped backward, and hit the ground with a thud as he landed in the dirt. Rhane stood over him, eyes darkening to black. River knew better than to move.
“Enough.” A growl rumbled low in Rhane’s throat. “If Kalista is such a monster, then why did she save them?”
“What are you talking about?”
“There were three children hiding miles away from the carnage in a spot only she and I knew about. Why would she kill everyone but not them?”
“Children survived?”
Rhane nodded. “Three of them. The twins and Rion.”
“Brother, why didn’t you come back? If these survivors saw what happened, they could have spoken her innocence. Why would you not let them?”
“They don’t remember anything from that day.”
“I do not think I understand.”
“Builders are real. They are the ones who took Kalista, erased her memories and those of the children. I spoke to one of them. He said Kalista didn’t do it.”
“Then who killed our people? Who killed our Prime?”
Rhane shook his head. “Unless her memories are returned, we may never know.”
River was years younger, but he and Rhane had grown up together. They’d heard the same whispers in the village and listened to the same tales from their elders. He knew the legend of creators who’d masterminded four races, all in attempt to cover the mistake of their first. Within whispers were often origins of truth. “That’s a game changer,” he said quietly.
Rhane nodded. “I need your help. But first, I need to know I can trust you.”
River rolled to his side. Blood from his nose dripped steadily into the grass. He glanced up at his brother. “Is it okay if I get up now?” Impatiently, Rhane jerked him up by the collar and released him. River staggered a bit and touched a hand gingerly to his face. “Ouch.” He smiled through the pain. “That’s going to bruise.”
“Did the Primes send you?”
“No.”
“Then why were you on the plane?”
“When you left, you didn’t leave much of a trail to follow. After The Siren’s Heart disappeared from the ruins and showed up for bid, I knew you wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to reclaim that small piece of home and your past with the siren. So I went after it. What I didn’t expect to find was Kalista. If I could find her, others could too. Then the meeting was moved up to deliver the relic. I wasn’t sure if you had someone in place. So I went in.”
“Thanks.” Rhane was deciding if he believed the story. It didn’t exactly add up.
River glanced around. “Let us finish this inside.”
They left the clearing. Passing the fence, Rhane saw a gleaming white row of perfect pickets marred by a section of shards and splinters. He frowned. “You shot at me.”
River cast a faint smile over his shoulder. “But I missed.”
“I should have hit you harder.”
Chapter 57
River leaned over the kitchen sink and rinsed the blood from his face. Then he grabbed a towel and tossed it to his brother. “Those are real hardwoods you’re bleeding on.”
Rhane glanced down, noticing the trail of crimson droplets for the first time. “Sorry.” He wiped at his left hand absently.
“You should bandage it. My blade is blood silver. Not as deadly as Bellefuron, but your wound will not heal fast.” River wanted to say more. He needed to know if the rumors about Banewolf were true. But he held his tongue and left the room. He came back wearing a fresh shirt and carrying a first aid kit. “What do you need my help with?” River tossed the red box to Rhane.
“Gabriel has been released.”
“Allow me to guess. He wants the siren?”
“He thinks he can use her power against the Builders.” Rhane wrapped tape around the cleaned wound. “York is the only one besides me that has been tested in battle against such an opponent. And I am not at full strength.”
River lifted a brow. “Oh?”
“I can’t transform. I haven’t been able to since…I haven’t been able to in a long time.”
“The bane wolf is gone.”
Rhane nodded, rubbing his palm where the mark of the white wolf once branded him. The tattoos had been absent for almost four centuries. He had more or less accepted that he’d never get them back.
Even after seeing his brother’s bare hand, it was hard for River to believe. But if what he said was true, then Rhane was in serious trouble. “Banewolf is the truest of immortals. He cannot be killed. The wearer of him cannot be killed. Without him, you will positively die in a fight against Gabriel.”
Rhane frowned. “River, you probably know better than anyone else what I endured before becoming the bane wolf’s vessel. I survived back then. And I’ve done a pretty good job of staying alive now.”
“But this is Gabriel. This creature was once a Prime. Even fallen, his strength is nearly unmatchable. You’ve already given up so much for her. Will you really lay down your life, too?”
“This is about more than the siren.” Rhane briefly related the conversation he’d had with Wesley the da
y before.
River grimaced. “It sounds like they aren’t giving you much of a choice.”
“No.”
“She could be of great help fighting against him.”
Rhane shook his head. “You’ve seen her. She’s a kid. And she has no idea who she is or what she is capable of.” He slouched against the counter, briefly kneading his temple before folding his arms.
River remembered seeing him do so twice since leaving the clearing. “Maybe it is your conscience.”
“Huh?”
“Couldn’t it be guilt preventing you from becoming Banewolf…as well as causing your headache? You have always been the odd one, brother.”
Rhane rolled his eyes. “You think I’m deliberately giving myself an aneurysm because I feel guilty about not telling Kalista the truth?” River was the younger, but had never been under Rhane’s command. Things were less formal between them when they were away from others. “That’s ridiculous. I’ve been exposed to large doses of monkshood twice in less than two weeks.”
“Ouch,” River said, and took a moment to deliberate Rhane’s explanation. “So what stops you from becoming Banewolf?”
Rhane blinked. He hadn’t considered it. “I don’t know. I don’t even know why Banewolf chose me in the first place.”
“It was to balance the omen of your disfigurement.” When Rhane’s eyes pulsed, River looked away and decided to change the subject. “You should tell her.”
“I can’t. She’ll never forgive me.”
“I have seen her love for you.”
“And you’ve forgotten how much she loved him.” Feeling his chest tighten, Rhane took a shuddering breath and willed logic to replace emotion. “This girl doesn’t remember us. And she’s so inexperienced. I can’t risk sending her into a rage that even I could not dispel, especially if I am the cause of it.”
“Rhane--”
He cut him off. “Let me save her from this. Then I somehow I will tell her.”
“Okay.”
Rhane looked at his brother, searching for a way to reassure him. River needed to believe there was a chance. “My instinct to survive will win out over guilt, if that is the cause of this. Banewolf will return.”
“For your sake, brother, I hope that is true.”
“Even so, the fight with Gabriel won’t be easy. If I can’t kill him, and don’t stand to receive her…” He swallowed. “Do what you have to do.”
“Why me? York is your second.”
“He’s already gotten too close to her.”
River inclined his head. “If you are sure it’s what you want.”
Rhane grimaced. “It is. I need to know that she’ll be safe.”
“Then I will do it.”
Rhane cleared his throat. “How is Father?”
“I lied before when I said the Primes did not bid me here.”
“I figured as much.”
River left the sink, crossing the room to where his brother stood. He quietly regarded Rhane in a new light. With eyes that knew the truth. Now he understood why their father had sent him. “Jehsi promises you will be granted mercy. He wants you to come home. Returning Bellefuron confirms his oath.”
Rhane was shaking his head. “I can’t come back. Not now.”
“I know.” Extending his right hand, River placed it on the back of Rhane’s neck. “He misses you.” River swallowed. “I never had the chance...” he faltered. “I’m sorry.”
After a moment, Rhane leaned forward, clasping his brother’s neck as their foreheads met. In that silent bond, old wounds began to heal and were forgiven.
#
The master of the shipyard frowned impatiently over the clipboard. “You’re over by 1200 pounds.”
The older crewman scratched his head. “Don’t know how that happened, Al. We unloaded what was there. The numbers from the containers matched up.”
Al frowned harder. “Your numbers have been slipping lately. Are you losing it in your old age, Tom?”
“Age has nothing to do with it. I got a pretty lady keeping me up at night. Messes with the concentration.” Tom winked.
“I’ll let it pass. But this is the last time. Give me the ledger, and I’ll sign off. I’ve also got a date tonight. I’m hoping my concentration will get jumbled.”
“I thought you were married, boss.”
“I am. The date is with my wife. We’re seeing a therapist, trying to fix this shipwreck of a marriage. He suggested that we date.”
Tom shook his head. “That stuff is a load of crap.” He watched his superior scrawl a hurried signature. “I don’t see any reason to give some quack a hundred dollars an hour to fix our problems. Done just fine without it.”
“Two hundred dollars,” Al mumbled and handed back the paperwork. The crewman accepted it gratefully. “You’re fifty-seven years old and your wife is twenty-two. The fourth one, isn’t she?”
Tom put both hands on his waist and grinned. “What’s your point?”
“Nothing. You’re a lucky man.” Al adjusted his cap as he left. There was enough time to stop and get his wife flowers before dinner. White roses were her favorite.
Chapter 58
It didn’t take long to find the tiny bookshop, Clever Dust Booksellers. It was located only a few miles from where Kali worked. She was determined to get answers. A book with a nearly seven-hundred-year-old painting of Rhane had to lead to some of them.
They’d stopped by a drive-in to reward Max for his excellent detective work at the library. The kid was still busy stuffing his face with the biggest burger on the menu. Orrin parked the truck at the curb and opened Kali’s door. Max climbed out onto the sidewalk beside them, politely wiping his greasy fingers before handing over the book. Kali looked at him warily. “Maybe you should stay in the truck.” Grinning, Max strolled ahead anyway, disappearing into the shop.
She stared after him, taking a moment to study the building. Though the façade had obviously been renovated, there was a sense of the original stonework underneath. The store front was decorated with old volumes stacked beside a vase of pretty flowers. She knew little about botany, but recognized the pink blossoms as oleanders and begonias. Their colors were perfectly complemented by strange plants of deep blue. The arrangement was odd, to say the least. Kali was about to go in, but stopped when she noticed Orrin had not followed. She turned back to him with a questioning look.
Orrin shook his head almost imperceptibly. “The smell is offensive to me. I will wait here.”
Kali laughed. Orrin’s strange mannerisms had started to grow on her. “It might be the flowers.”
The bell dinged as the door closed behind her. Dust mingled with the musk that tended to cling to old things, the smell hanging heavily in the air. Maybe to someone with a keener nose, it would be overpowering.
A pudgy man with twinkly blue eyes greeted her. His name tag read “Harry.”
“Excuse our mess. My assistant has missed a week of work. I assume he’s taken ill.” Harry’s eyes went to the large book supported by Kali’s thin arms. “What have you got there?”
He reached for the book. She quickly twisted away. “Whoa. You get right to the point, don’t you?”
Harry withdrew his hands but rubbed them together excitedly. “How can I help you?’
Kali glanced around. She wondered why she didn’t see Max; after all, it was such a small store. “This book is written in a weird language. Maybe there’s someone here who can read it?”
“Yes, of course. Please follow me.” The old man shuffled away.
She trailed behind him at a slower pace. Toward the back of the shop, there was no natural light. Even the florescent lighting was dim. Kali felt a bit apprehensive. The last harmless looking old guy she’d encountered had killed Mack, stabbed Shannon, and chased her through the desert.
A bulb hung above a workbench, glowing dully. The illumination was probably meant to give off enough light to see by, but not eno
ugh to damage delicate manuscripts. Kali stood on the opposite side of the bench and put the book in front of her.
Harry’s wrinkled fingers twitched. Fumbling a magnifier from his pocket, he pressed the glass against his eyeball. “Темные Лорды,” he read aloud.
“Excuse me?” Kali had caught none of that.
“Dark Lords,” he translated.
“You know this language?”
Harry opened the book and scanned a few pages past the title. “From what I can tell, the script is a peculiar blend of Russian and Assan. The latter has been extinct for over two hundred years. There are very few who can read this.”
Her shoulders slumped. “But the book doesn’t even look that old. Why would someone write a book in a language no one can read? It’s kind of a paradox.”
The old man closed the book and carefully examined its joints and covers. “To protect secrets,” he answered distantly. He ran a finger between the two endsheets and across the hinge. “There is someone here who may be able to help.”
Out of thin air, a woman appeared to stand at Harry’s side. Strong features and pale skin should have made her ugly. Instead, she was oddly attractive. Her mane of fiery red hair was pulled back into a sleek bun. A wildly patterned scarf of bright colors contrasted with her otherwise dark attire. Kali presumed this woman had to be the designer of the bouquet displayed in the window.
“This is Lara.” Harry’s voice trembled. “She is filling in as my assistant until further notice.”
“Hello.” Lara smiled, bowing her head modestly. “May I see what you have?”
Kali felt hesitant but conceded. “Go ahead. Help yourself.”
Pale, delicate hands fluttered out to caress the book. “Are you looking for something in particular or would you like to know all that it says?” Lara’s eyes held Kali’s. “The latter would require a private meeting.”
A warning chill crawled across Kali’s skin. Harry’s assistant was very creepy. It took a concentrated effort not to recoil. “Um…no.” Forcing herself to reach forward, Kali turned the book to the picture of the green eyed warrior. Her hand grazed Lara’s fingers in the process. The woman’s skin was icy. “Just tell me what it says about him.”
Lara waved her hand over the picture, letting out what sounded like a purr. “This was not a man. He was the most powerful shapeshifter in the thirteenth century. His name was “Бэйн волк.” Her dark eyes floated up. “Banewolf.” Lara began reading, “Banewolf led an unstoppable army of elite warriors. Armed with skins of the wolf and weapons forged from the fires of Altai, his army brought a halt to the plague of darkness in 1350 A.D. During times of peace, his people, the Warekin, made their homes in the plains of the Golden Mountains. Both excellent horseman and farmers, Warekin became known as the humane warriors.
