Stone of Ascension

by Lynda Aicher

  “What are you talking about?” she questioned, struggling to hold on to her calm, to maintain that last link with sanity. “I’m tired of being manipulated and used. Of being treated like a child when I’m not one.”

  “You will find the answers when you are ready,” the shaman replied.

  She inhaled sharply. “No! You know what’s going on, and I deserve some answers. Now.”

  “Amber,” her aunt admonished. “Watch your tone. Joseph is your elder and will be treated with respect.” The older woman moved to stand next to the shaman, a guard in grandmother clothing. “He’s done nothing but protect you since your mother failed so miserably in that job.”

  “Stop it,” Amber bit out, heat flaring across her cheeks. “Just stop it. I am done with everyone measuring me against my mother. Of constantly having her failures rubbed in my face. Despite her flaws, she was still my mother.” She released a shaky breath. “And she paid a very high price for her crimes. So please, just let her rest in peace.”

  The silence hung in the room like the deafening quiet between a lightning strike and the burst of thunder. Her aunt’s face had paled, her hands clasped tightly at her waist, taken aback by Amber’s sudden attack. Never, in the over fifteen years of living with her aunt, had Amber ever spoken to her like that.

  A sense of power surged through her. Not at taking her aunt down, but at finally, finally, standing up for herself. For saying the words she’d wanted to say for years.

  Joseph rested a hand on Aunt Bev’s shoulder, a silent show of support. Likewise, Damian’s strong hand settled on Amber’s shoulder, his strength pouring into her. His claim staked. The sudden face-off would’ve been almost comical if not for the seriousness of the situation. The room crackled with the tension.

  The shaman cleared his throat, a failed attempt to clear the air. “There is much the two of you must learn,” Joseph started, raising a hand to silence her protest when she opened her mouth to interject. “I know it’s frustrating, and I’m not trying to be mysterious and confusing. But many things are best understood when you learn them yourself. And, truthfully, I don’t have all the answers.”

  “Tell us what you know,” Damian demanded, his voice pounding into the room with its force.

  The shaman observed them as if he was debating what to say. When he finally spoke, his eyelids drooped and his face slackened, a distant appearance cloaking him. His words came out in an almost trance-like cadence.

  “A thousand years of exile, a thousand years of rebirth. Taken down in shame to rise in glory. At his side a virgin bride, the hidden bird to bind his soul. To this end the world will flow. Without the rise, the world will fall. One of light, one of dark. Two to wield all five. Circles will rise and must hold strong. Together the two will lead us all.”

  The chill returned to invade and spread to every appendage even as beads of sweat broke out on Amber’s forehead and her arm hairs stood on end. She swallowed past her arid throat and tried to quell the rising anxiety. Damian’s hand tightened on her shoulder, his unease radiating into her with each deep breath he sucked into his chest.

  The pending threat of doom hung like a black cloud in the room and was as suffocating as a wool blanket in July.

  “What foolishness do you speak, old man?” Damian’s crisp words cut through the tension. “Where did you get those words?”

  Joseph eased back with a simple blink of his eyes. “They are words that have been passed down through my family for generations. We are the protectors of the innocent. The keeper of the words. The seers of my people and the holders of the one truth.”

  “The words are nothing but garbage,” Damian snapped.

  “Are they?” Joseph challenged, apparently not at all intimidated by the man that towered over him. “It is my job, the job of my family, to protect the line of the innocent. To keep the last lineage of the great Moshup alive and pure. The end of that line is Amber. She is the last living descendant of the great giant who led and helped to build the Native American communities along the eastern coastline when we were but a fledging race of beings struggling to survive.”

  Amber gasped, disbelief consuming her. How could that be true? What did it mean?

  Joseph narrowed his eyes at Damian. “Do my words touch too close to the truth? Ring of a rightness that is too frightening to accept?”

  “Watch yourself, old man.”

  “You do not scare me, old one,” Joseph replied. “I only fear for what will happen if you do not accept what is before you.”

  The bird on Amber’s hand fluttered its feathers, stretching its wings in preparation for flight. To defend. The sensation itched over her hand and warmed her skin. It was as if the mark was becoming a living, breathing entity that moved and communicated with her through the energy. Although it remained flat and unmoving on her skin, within her she felt every movement, every emotion it projected. Intuitively, she knew to listen to it, despite how illogical that was.

  “Joseph,” her aunt’s quiet voice quivered between them. “What is going on?”

  The shaman stepped toward Amber. Damian immediately moved in front of her, blocking Joseph’s path. The man stilled his advance, his eyes showing approval.

  “I will not harm her. I have protected her for twenty-three years. Kept her safe”—Joseph paused and looked down at the dragon mark on Damian’s hand before he lifted his gaze to stare into Damian’s eyes—“for you.”

  Amber’s stomach dropped clear to her toes, and she gaped at Joseph in disbelief. No. Absolutely not. She stepped around Damian to face Joseph. Any fear or residual panic was pushed back by her overriding need to take back control of her life. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Joseph, but I am not some piece of property to hand off like a cheap whore.” The indignation fueled her words and flushed her cheeks. “I do know that I wasn’t kept or prepped or protected for anyone. I am my own person. I make my own choices, my own decisions.”

  “Of course, child,” Joseph replied almost patronizingly. “And every choice you make, every decision you make has the potential to change the outcome of the Great War to come. I am not your enemy, and I wanted your man to understand that.”

  Her cheeks flamed at his words, and her lips compressed in a mix of irritation and embarrassment. “He is not my man.”

  “Whatever you say,” Joseph responded.

  “Forget it.” Amber turned away. The feeling of being boxed in—of the walls closing in around her until she was trapped with no way out—made her skin crawl in rejection. “I’m done with this. I only came here to check on Aunt Bev and to let her know I was okay and to find out if she had any answers for me. Instead, I find yet another man spinning prophecies and warnings about my life. About who I am.” She spun back around to face down Joseph. “It’s time I made the decisions about my life. And I will not be forced into a role based on the words of some ancient prophecy or made-up lineage.”

  God, that felt good. The power from standing up for herself sailed through her and warmed her blood with hot licks of fulfillment. On a roll and unable to stop the cleansing purge that seemed to be rising uninhibited from within her, Amber glared at the three people who were each staring at her with varying looks of shock, amusement and approval.

  “Do any of you realize the day I’ve had? This morning I was a normal woman, being so bold as to attend a protest against this guy and his wind turbines.” She pointed accusingly at Damian, who didn’t even have the courtesy to flinch. “Next thing I know, he’s magically appearing out of nowhere, spitting accusations that I’m some predefined emissary of destruction. Then I’m whisked through thin air, judged by a race of beings I didn’t even know existed, and accused of pretending to be this Marked One, declared evil, and ordered to the cellars.”

  Her aunt’s face had turned a pasty white during her recap. Maybe Aunt Bev didn’t know everything that was going on, but it was past time she found out. Undeterred, Amber glared at her betrayers and continued. “Now I return to
find that the two people I trusted most in this world have been lying to me my entire life. In fact, they’ve actually been waiting to turn me over to what? My death? The sacrificial lamb offered up for the greater good?” Her aunt’s hand fluttered uneasily at her throat. Joseph stood stone faced at her side.

  “Well, no thank you. I don’t want the job. And I refuse be used or manipulated. I don’t care what each of you thinks I am.” She gave each occupant of the room a hard, piercing glare. “Because I know what I’m not. And I know that none of you have control over me. And that I definitely don’t need any of you to manage my life.”

  Wanting to keep the feeling of triumph that coursed through her, Amber stalked out of the room, down the hall and out the back making sure to slam the door behind her. The loud bang echoed through the silence and off the brick walls of the buildings. She exhaled a shaky breath and watched the white puffs of vapor form in front of her face. She took off at a brisk walk, exiting the alley and heading down the street. She had no focus, her only intent to get away.

  From the words. The feelings. The confusion.

  How could all of this be happening? If it weren’t for the brisk air brushing her cheeks and nipping at her ears, she’d be tempted to believe it was all a very bad dream. But it wasn’t a dream, just a demented reality that threatened to pull her under and drown her within the depths of its complexity.

  Her boots moved briskly over the sidewalk, causing Damian’s coat to flap against her legs. Once again, she was thankful for its warmth. She’d been wearing the damn coat for most of the day, and his scent was twining its way around her, tingling her nose with hints of pine. Damn it. She couldn’t get away from him even now.

  What had Joseph meant with his strange words and even stranger assumptions? Kept her safe for Damian? What the hell? This wasn’t the dark ages where women were property owned by men to sell and barter as they saw fit. She didn’t belong to anyone, and she definitely wasn’t going to be meekly handed over to some overbearing, overconfident, over-assuming man. In trade for what? Saving the world? Ha! There was nothing to save and she wasn’t anyone’s hero. Period.

  A light from an overhead street lamp flickered above her before going out. The dark descended around her and pulled her quickly out of her musings. A sudden, unnatural chill descended in the air.

  She jerked her head around, taking quick looks over her shoulders, peering into the darkness that surrounded her. Goose bumps riddled her flesh, and the hairs on the back of her neck rose in warning. Increasing her pace, Amber hurried down the deserted sidewalk toward the next globe of light. It flickered and went out just before she stepped into the safety its pale, yellow light cast.

  Fear skittered through her as she froze in understanding. The stone burned in warning. She swallowed thickly and blinked back the tears that formed at the edge of her eyes. In all her ranting, all her adamant declarations that she didn’t need anyone, she’d forgotten the fact that she was being tracked. For whatever reason, whether she wanted to believe it or not. Whether she understood it or not.

  And she knew beyond all doubt that those very beings that wanted her, hunted her, were now surrounding her. And she was alone, just like she’d wanted.

  Chapter Twelve

  The door crashed behind Amber as she exited the shop and the sound echoed through the room like a bullet—hard, sharp and deadly.

  Damian took in the pale face of Amber’s aunt and the emotionless mask of the old man who had just turned his world on end. The blistering bursts of Amber’s fury and indignation still lingered in the tight confines of the room and rubbed against him. He wanted to run after her, to keep her close, where she belonged. But he needed answers, and he could still feel her through the energy.

  “I need your knowledge, old man,” he demanded. “I don’t have time to dance around words and guess at meanings. I need to get to Amber, so tell me what I need to know. Now.”

  Joseph stepped closer to Damian, but showed no fear. Only respect. “As a descendant of Moshup, Amber is like you, only she doesn’t know it. She has no knowledge or understanding of what she’s been groomed for or of the challenges that await her.”

  “What challenges?”

  “The world is unsettled. The elements in turmoil. The environment failing. War is coming, as you know. You finding Amber is the catalyst to the rest.”

  Damian cursed, frustration mounting with every cryptic drop of information that was leaked to him. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

  “All I was ever told is that when the Chosen One finds the innocent, together they will rise and unite in glory for the rest to follow.” The old man pointed at Damian’s hand, clenched at his side. “The white, winged dragon is the mark I was told to watch for. You are the Chosen One. Amber is yours.”

  What in the hell was this man talking about? “Chosen One? What crap do you speak? According to our prophecies, Amber is the Marked One. The one who has the potential to destroy the world.”

  “Or save it,” Joseph interceded quietly, completely unruffled by Damian’s verbal attack. “I don’t know the prophecy you speak of. Obviously, there are more pieces to this puzzle than we have been given. It’s up to you to put them together.”

  The old shaman stepped directly into Damian’s personal space, tilting his head back to maintain eye contact. “The Chosen One will rise, a virgin bride at his side. Don’t let the fear of the past keep you from accepting your fate. Like Amber, you have a role to play that is much bigger than just you. The red dragon stirs, even now. You know this, if you listen.”

  The truth of what the old man said rang like a gong in Damian’s head. In his heart and soul. The energy within him hummed in fired acceptance even as he resisted everything he’d just heard. It couldn’t be right.

  He—the one who’d been exiled for a thousand years—was supposed to save the world? With a virgin bride to boot? Right. The thought was comical, but the old man’s face held no amusement. In fact, the strength of his beliefs burned bright and strong in his dark eyes. He was as firm in his beliefs about Damian as Damian was in his own about Amber.

  Shit.

  Before he could question the shaman further, the energy shifted, turned and rounded on him in dark cascading waves of blackness. The weight pressed on his shoulders, warning and telling him of the darkness that was closing in. Circling, taunting, and playing with them.

  With Amber.

  Fuck!

  The dragon writhed on his skin, his wings stretched, his claws extending. The fire burned deep in Damian’s gut in preparation for battle. It was time to fight and protect what was his.

  Amber’s breath hitched, icy and cold in her chest. The darkness settled around her, heavy and daunting. She backed up cautiously, her gaze darting into the black depths of the night.

  She’d stormed off in a fit of anger that had taken her out of the busier waterfront area into the quieter residential streets. Now, it was completely dark, not a single light showing to offer aid, and she was alone.

  A low chuckle vibrated through the night, an evil laugh laced with anticipation that stopped Amber’s heart. She was so dead.

  The bird flickered back and forth over her hand in caged irritation. It wanted to fight and defeat the enemy.

  Amber wanted to run.

  The stone pulsed with deep bursts of hot energy that flushed through her in a steady rhythm of warning. The fear tasted salty on her tongue, or maybe that was blood from biting her cheek too hard.

  God, where was Damian? Why did she leave him?

  In a warm wave of soothing energy, Damian appeared at her side. A savior at her beck and call. Amber was so relieved to see him, she immediately launched herself into his arms. “Damian.”

  Instantly, the light prickles covered her skin, and she waited for the rolling pitch of her stomach to start. But it didn’t. With a hard thump, they reappeared back on the street only feet from where she had been.

  “What happened?” Her panic flared bright an
d hot at the realization they were still in danger.

  Damian hauled her back quickly, shoving her behind him and using his own body as a shield before her. “We’re trapped.”

  “What? How?”

  “We’re in a circle,” he answered gruffly, his attention focused on the darkness around them. “And they used it create their own.”

  Amber did a quick scan of their surroundings to see that, in her efforts to get away from the shadows, she’d come to a stop in the middle of a grass island. The road circled their spot providing a nice turnaround or a hidden trap for the unsuspecting. “Well take it down.”

  “I can’t. Only the caster can take it down.”

  On a whim, she raised her hand and tried to do it anyway. She’d removed the collar when he’d said she couldn’t—maybe this was the same. The energy buzzed at her challenge, sending ripples of cold barbs through her. She thought of breaking down the invisible barrier, but the current struck out with a force that knocked her back and left her dazed. Yeah, that option was closed.

  Shaking the lingering numbness from her arm, she scrambled for another solution. “So cast a smaller one around us.”

  “The energy won’t allow it.” Damian reached back and extracted a knife from a sheath on his belt. Keeping his back to her, he thrust the handle toward her. “Here. Take this. Use it if you need to.”

  “What?” she sputtered, her fear temporarily pushed to the back as she tried to process his latest move. “I can’t take that.” Like she would even know how to use it.

  He pushed it at her again. “Take it,” he said, his voice leaving no room for argument. “Our only way out is to defeat them.”

  Exhaling a shaky breath, Amber accepted the offered weapon. The knife felt heavy, deadly, in her palm. It was about five inches long and reminded her more of a dagger than a knife. She clenched the weapon in her fist and lowered her hand by her side.

  Her mind scrambled for another way out but came up with none. “So we’re screwed?”