Sacred Breath Series (Books 1-4)

by Nadia Scrieva

  “Baby boom?” Visola remarked, gesturing down at her stomach. “Where’s the boom? There’s a baby drought going on down here. You feel me, Elan?”

  “She means statistically,” Naclana said sharply, “with respect to the entire population.”

  “I know what the fuck she means,” Visola told the old messenger, “and statistically speaking my daughter died in the post-war funk. I’m just providing another perspective here, since you guys are all, ‘Yay, bridge! Economic upswing, immigration, tourism, industry, blah, blah, blah…’”

  “Darling, please take it easy on the booze,” Vachlan advised.

  “Why?” she asked, rebelliously pouring herself another glass.

  “Because you’re hogging the bottle,” he explained, reaching forward to take it from her. As he poured himself a glass, he strummed his fingers on the frozen table. “I won’t deny that we have gained some serious advantages in recent years. Adlivun’s playing in the big leagues now, but it’s still not big enough. Remember, I was employed with the Clan of Zalcan for quite a while. I happen to know they are already preparing an attack. And within a month, they will have amassed all the forces they have scattered worldwide. Adlivun will fall. We should all run.”

  “How do you know this?” Queen Amabie asked.

  “Text message from a contact on the inside,” Vachlan answered.

  “Hmph,” Queen Amabie responded, still slightly distrustful of the man.

  “The riot on the bridge made international headlines,” Vachlan explained. “Remember: this project is creating the first land link between Asia and North America. The whole world is waiting to get in their cars and drive from Alaska to Russia, or vice versa. So, incidentally, the whole world now knows that Adlivun is having political problems and that we’re unprotected. Kind of a pickle.”

  “Sir Vachlan,” Yamako said politely, “do you not think anyone would come to our aid?”

  “It’s possible, Princess,” he admitted, “but we can’t risk our lives on the off-chance that some country is going to be brave enough to step in and be heroes for us. This is going to be tougher than a naval battle; it will be mostly submarine, and most militaries are woefully uncomfortable underwater.”

  “I see,” Yamako responded. “Well, in recent months, I have extended the scope of my sonar monitoring system and added some enhancements. We’ve developed an app so you can see any unusual signals for hundreds of miles around. It’s all controlled from the panic room, in case we need to keep the kids in a safe place while the war is in full-swing.”

  “That sounds brilliant,” Vachlan said, pulling out his phone. “How do I get the app?”

  As the Japanese princess leaned over to help Vachlan monitor the seas from his pocket, Elandria and Queen Amabie engaged in swift but silent hand gestures.

  “We cannot surrender Adlivun,” Queen Amabie signed decisively. Whenever her hands needed to touch each other to create a signal, they moved so aggressively that they created sounds. “I have already lost my country to the Clan! If we run again, we do not even deserve our lives.”

  “Perhaps we do not deserve our lives,” Elandria responded, “but do the children not deserve theirs? We have Kolo and Kai to think of now.”

  “And Glais,” Visola added with her voice, “the son of the warrior killed on the bridge. Bain was my student, so I’ve decided to adopt his son and continue training him.”

  “Poor boy,” Naclana remarked.

  “How is he adjusting to the palace?” Elandria asked.

  “He’s a brave kid,” Visola said as she sipped her vodka glumly. “He’s doing about as well as you’d expect under these circumstances.”

  “We should take them all to the mainland,” Elandria decided. “My husband could benefit from some modern medical…”

  “No,” Visola said angrily, slamming her glass on the table and attracting everyone’s attention. “I don’t trust land-dwellers! They took my daughter for a few hours and they killed her. I am not putting my favorite grandson in their hands.”

  “So if Callder was sick...” Naclana suggested with raised eyebrows.

  “Yeah, not such a big deal,” Visola said with a shrug as she leaned back in her chair. There was a quirk in her lips that indicated the lie. “The point is that this is a family matter, and if anyone can save Trevain, it will be my sister. I trust her to do all she can.”

  “I am his family too,” Elandria protested. “Should I not have a say in this?”

  “Yeah. Speaking of your family, Elan—how do you feel about the rumors that Queen Aazuria has returned?” Visola looked around smugly when everyone became very quiet. “Oh, sorry, did I just point out the elephant in the room? I told you all that this day would come. Zuri’s back.”

  “I never underestimated our girl,” Queen Amabie said, reaching for the vodka to pour herself a glass. “To Aazuria!”

  Visola happily raised her glass and downed the contents.

  “I would love nothing more than her return,” Elandria said softly, “but it is highly unlikely.”

  “But we can’t wait for evidence of her survival before taking action,” Vachlan reminded them distractedly. He frowned at his phone as he studied the sonar map. “So this is color coded for the size of the object?”

  “Yes. Do you see the little green dots?” Yamako asked. “Those are just people, individual swimmers, or small animals. You can press this button in the corner to turn off any organic life forms and only show vehicles. The yellow ones are small boats, and the red ones are larger vessels. Black dots are for submarines. They will blink if they are accelerating, and you can tap any object to get details on its projected path, speed, and dimensions. If you go into settings, you can turn on notifications to be warned about as much activity, or as little activity as you like.”

  “Wow, Yama. You really outdid yourself here,” Vachlan mused. “This is spectacular!”

  “These are mostly rudimentary techniques I learned at university on mainland Japan,” the princess responded with a smile. “It was your budget that allowed me to install the sonar and implement this strategy, Sir Vachlan.”

  He smiled at being called this. “There’s much more where that came from, so just let me know if you have any other ideas. Truly, what a triumph this is! The watery world sure has changed since the last time I conquered it.” When Queen Amabie glared at the man, he cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Well, you know. Since the last time I conquered most of it. Having a tool like this in the palm of my hand would have made things easier.”

  “I have no concept of how to use those gadgets,” Queen Amabie admitted. “When my daughter talks about these things I feel like an ancient relic.”

  “My friend,” Visola said with an affectionate smile, “your knowledge and skill with a blade puts us all to shame. You make me feel like a bumbling toddler.”

  “Oh, hush, Visola. I would not have legs to stand on if not for you—I was so soundly beaten in Shiretoko!” Queen Amabie sighed deeply as she upturned the glass of vodka against her mouth. “What use is the sword in the hand of one woman any longer? When a single, small, rectangular device in the hand of a man like your husband can help him to conquer the world—or most of it—for a third time? We are just organic green dots, dear friend, so negligible that we can be turned off with the push of a button so that we are not mapped on the screen. We are just clutter, getting in the way.

  “Okaasan!” Yamako said, chastising her mother in Japanese. “It is not so! This is all enhancement and decoration while you remain the crucial core of the battle.”

  “There will be no battle!” Elandria shouted, standing up abruptly. “Listen to me—we need to prepare a plan of retreat. We must retreat to mainland Alaska, and that is my command to all of you.” The Adluvian leader turned to leave, her curvaceous hips swaying as she walked.

  “Like hell,” Visola said to her retreating back. “Like blue boiling, bubbly hell, Elandria.”

  “Excuse me?” Elandria said,
looking over her shoulder sharply. “Why should I allow an alcoholic psychopath to question my authority?”

  “Because I’m the general of your army, my queen. An army that doesn’t want to back down.”

  “I will decide whether you stand or sit!”

  “Will you? Because everyone knows you go hide in a corner when things get difficult, Queen Elandria. You will not make Adlivun join you on that comfy little sofa of surrender. You can sit your fat ass down on those soft cushions and eat unlimited potato chips, but I’m going to stand up and walk tall and fix our problems. Just let me and my husband take care of this.”

  Elandria flinched at these words. “Visola, please. I am not the weak person I used to be. I have been trying my best…”

  “You’ve done a great job, Queen Elandria,” Vachlan said earnestly. “I support and advocate your decision to retreat.”

  “Vachlan!” Visola said in frustration, swinging her legs off the table. “We had a bargain, you greasy louse!”

  “And the bargain still stands,” he responded. “If Aazuria Vellamo is currently alive and in Adlivun—if she is this Sapphire who breathes fire on the cinders of a revolution—I will happily throw down my pen, or keyboard as it may be, and take up arms. Until that is proven, we need a plan of retreat.”

  “You do that then,” Visola said angrily, leaning across the table and grabbing the bottle. “I’m gathering my fucking Ducklings.”

  “As you wish, darling.”

  “I’ll be preparing for battle with Queen Amabie,” Visola announced, putting the bottle to her lips. “It’s time for me to pull out the big guns.”

  “I am your big guns,” Vachlan said, “or have you forgotten?”

  “You used to be,” Visola grumbled. “You used to be a friggin’ German Gustav gun!”

  “I still am, and you should listen to me. I have won every war I ever orchestrated, mainly because I never fought unless I was certain of winning. If I didn’t think I would be victorious, I would turn around and walk away, and fight something smaller until I was ready to take on a larger opponent.”

  Visola scowled. “You didn’t win against me.”

  “But I would have won. If I hadn’t decided to join your side and compel my own forces to surrender, I could have killed your sister, I could have killed you, and I could have destroyed all of Adlivun without lifting a finger. All I had to do was give the word.” Vachlan was quiet for a moment as he scanned the hushed room, allowing his words to sink in as he made eye contact with each person. “I have been on the other side of this battle—I’ve been deeper and thicker in it than any of you. I can say with certainty that Emperor Zalcan does not consider it a great conquest to crush Adlivun. He considers it easy pickings, an annoying and tedious task that would have been accomplished a decade ago if I hadn’t gotten in his way.”

  “These words are truth,” Queen Amabie said softly.

  Vachlan turned to face his wife with an ominous shadow in his grey eyes. “I betrayed the emperor, and I procured the American protection, even though I believed it was temporary and worthless to begin with. I did it for you, Visola. I am the reason you have all been living comfortably without threat in this lovely little haven for all these years. You are alive because you listened to me. If you want to remain alive, you will keep listening to me.” His hard expression began to soften, his lips twisting upward in a terrifying smile that often heralded bloodshed. “I am Adlivun’s royal advisor, after all.”

  No one could protest his logic, and everyone sat around the table in low-spirited defeat. An air of gloominess had descended upon the group as they realized that Adlivun’s brief period of peace and prosperity was truly over.

  Visola grumbled angrily under her breath as she took another gulp of vodka. “Lady-sperm.”

  “Excuse me?” Vachlan said in surprise. He undid the buttons on his cuffs and began rolling up his sleeves. “Say that again, dear wife.”

  “I’ll say much, much worse, dear husband.” Visola brandished her bottle as she slurred her words. “In fact, I have been compiling a delicious list of gibes…”

  She was interrupted by the sound of the door to their meeting room flying open, creaking on its hinges. Everyone expected to see Trevain, but instead, Sionna was standing there.

  “For Sedna’s sake, Visola Ramaris! Put that bottle down,” the woman commanded. Yelling seemed to cause her pain, and the doctor clutched her head as she leaned against the frozen doorframe. “I may have acquired some information.”

  Chapter 12: Her Fearsome Unpredictability

  “Highly sensitive information,” Visola repeated. “For the royal advisor only!”

  “I’m sorry, Miss Visola,” Glais said nervously as he watched the woman ‘warm up.’ Instead of stretching, she was beating several of her soldiers into the ground.

  “What can she tell him that she can’t tell me? I’m her sister! Her twin sister. I practically am her.”

  “Maybe it was a surprise for you,” Glais suggested. He was happy that Visola was letting him join her to train with the adults, but her unusually vicious manner was making him nervous.

  “Whoa, General Ramaris!” Marsden said as Visola put him in a chokehold. “Easy there. You seem a bit hormonal.”

  “Hormonal! That’s number four on the list of things you don’t say to your female general in the middle of a training session.” She slammed her knee into the man’s lower back and allowed him to crumple to the floor. “Who’s next?”

  Glais took a step back cautiously, hoping that he would not have to face his new mentor’s wrath so soon. He was grateful for the opportunity to watch and learn to fight, but he did not think he could handle this level of violence just yet.

  “How are you liking the palace?” Visola asked as she caught one of her soldier’s punches, easily directing it from the center of her face to the outside of her neck. She moved inside his body and twisted her torso to toss the man forward, allowing him to land inches away from Glais’ boots.

  “Make her stop this,” the man begged Glais with a groan. “She’s gone loco!”

  Staring down at the soldier with wide eyes, Glais gulped. “The palace is very nice, Miss Visola.”

  “Glad you think so,” she commented as she attacked another soldier. She licked her lips before hungrily shoving her elbows and knuckles repeatedly into his soft flesh. “By Sedna’s toothpicks, this is too easy today! Put up a fight, boys!”

  “God, General! Are you expecting your period or something?” a man asked as he fell to his knees.

  “Hell if I know!” she said with a laugh, prodding him with the toe of her boot so that he toppled over. “I stopped keeping track of my periods in 1839. Are you expecting yours, pathetic pipsqueak?” This was rhetorical, but she immediately turned to Glais with a smile and asked a real question. “Have the other kids been welcoming to you?”

  Glais did not understand how Visola could move around so savagely, attacking her soldiers with a ferocious randomness while casually carrying on a conversation with him. He realized that her unpredictability was her most fearsome quality, and he could not help wondering how challenging it was to remain so volatile and irregular when one had lived for hundreds of years. Was it not natural to fall into a comfortable routine? He swallowed his saliva. “The other kids are nice,” he said mindlessly as he stared at her technique.

  “Great! Did you get all that?” she asked. “They’re all going to try to get back up and brush it off. See if you can do what I just did, in a similar sequence. I have to go and collect the rest of the army.”

  Glais looked around anxiously at the soldiers who were rising to their feet. He inched backwards, wanting to fight but instinctively terrified of facing several men twice his size. He had done it before, but only with his father standing nearby in case something went wrong. Now, Bain was gone. He was on his own. Fortunately, none of the men seemed to consider him enough of a threat to even notice him.

  “What the hell is wrong with her?�
�� Evian asked angrily.

  “General Ramaris is just… being herself,” Takeshi answered, groaning with pain.

  “Did you hear about the deal she made with her husband?” Marsden asked. “If the woman on the bridge was really Aazuria, we’re going to war. It’s settled.”

  “Shit,” Takeshi said. “I’m not ready. I need more training.”

  “We all do, kid,” Marsden agreed.

  Meanwhile, Glais’ ears had perked up. The thought of fighting in a war excited him, especially since he wanted an excuse to avenge his father himself. “She’s alive,” Glais whispered to the other men, so softly that they hardly heard him. “She’s alive, and we are going to fight.”

  “How do you know that, Glais?” Visola asked, having returned with a large tow of warriors in her wake.

  The boy hesitated, realizing he could not break his promise. “I just know it’s true. I feel it.”

  Visola grinned, reaching out to hit Glais lightly in the shoulder. “I’m lovin’ this optimism and zest for battle. Keep it up! We’re going to get along just fine.”

  “Good grief, Sionna! Some timing you have.”

  “I’m sorry,” the doctor said, leaning against a piece of furniture weakly as she nursed her aching head. “Please know that I didn’t intend for things to go this way.”

  Vachlan emitted a loud groan, putting both hands on his jet-black hair. “Dammit, woman. Goddammit! How long?”

  “I have no idea,” Sionna said softly. “Look, can you just give me a minute here? I have a mild concussion and about three serious diagnoses about people I love floating around in my head—along with the repercussions of delivering them. I feel like I’m going to explode.”

  “A minute then,” Vachlan said, glancing at his watch. “I’ll be waiting.”

  Sionna closed her eyes and allowed her head to sag backwards, colliding with the frozen wall. She rested for several seconds, enjoying the soothing feeling of the coldness against her scalp, until she felt her arm being shaken by Vachlan.