by LJ Andrews
Maurelle clicked her tongue and cocked her head as if Marie were an innocent child. “Oh, Marie, you know I created the Deshuits—they were the original Trinity. I knew I would need an army when it came time.”
“Too bad the ancient ones saw through your corruption and left your band of murderers.” Marie laughed darkly.
“The Trinity has greater numbers and strength than the Deshuit clans darling and you know it.” Maurelle smiled sweetly, her perfect teeth and face shining as though her dark plan never existed.
Holding her palms outward from her chest a blast of silver mist shot toward Marie. The woman cried out as the mist encircled every limb, and slithered around her neck holding her tight against the chair. Sauntering toward her, Maurelle bent low so their faces were only inches apart. “You will not beat me, and your son will meet his end along with the rest of you once I find it.”
Her words cut through Marie like a burning sword, but she would never show weakness or doubt in front of Maurelle. “Killian is stronger than you know. You would be a fool to underestimate him. And you above anyone else know how well Merlin hid all the relics, especially his. You will never find it,” Marie snarled.
Maurelle scoffed and pulled away as a pack of Trinity soldiers stalked into the room. Two soldiers held their gilded blades against her spine as the two other burly figures jerked her from the misty restraints holding her arms so tightly she could feel the welts swelling.
“I never underestimate my enemy,” Maurelle said softly. “But I know how to weaken them. Do you think your baby boy will stay away when the mother he never knew is facing death?” Her eyes twinkled with a fearsome glow in the darkness as the thrill of her plan consumed her.
Marie scowled, but held her shoulders high. “You cannot win, we won’t let you. Merlin hid it well. Killian knows nothing about it so he will be of little use to you.” Marie knew it was useless to convince Maurelle to abandon her attack against her son. The queen relished the idea of torturing the entire Thomas family, even if it served no purpose other than a reign of terror.
Maurelle placed a pale palm against Marie’s cheek. “I’ve already won. You cannot be so ignorant to think I haven’t been searching over the centuries?” Maurelle laughed. “Merlin was skilled at hiding many things, but as we speak my people are closing in on it. Soon it will be mine once again and my victory will be sure. Killian is only a bonus. The opportunity to end the Thomas line once and for all, nothing would please me more.”
Marie’s eyes widened, and she scolded herself for the reaction. She met the eye of a new figure that crept behind Maurelle. Her heart bled as she watched him twirl a small steel arrow between his fingers; his mother had been her closest friend. The women had once jabbered in the halls of the Praetorium about their two toddler boys and how they hoped they would grow close together as they grew into strong Ponderi members.
“Blake,” Marie whispered, a sad expression crossing her face as she paused, waiting for him to meet her eye. “Your mother would be ashamed of you.”
Blake’s face twisted angrily as he nodded for the soldiers to take her out. “No need to be gentle with her,” he called after them.
The soldiers laughed quietly and jabbed their blades harder into her spine. Marie pursed her lips as the heat of blood trickled down her back under her Deshsuit robes. Killian was in more danger than she wanted to admit. She would stop at nothing to escape or she would prove to be the greatest threat against her only child.
****
Warm, lavender sunlight licked the shimmering steel of the outer walls. The multicolored sun was known to bring a strange sense of peace and comfort to all living in the abstract, jutting beams towering over the untamed wilderness below.
Owen scanned the wild grass, once mowed and clean cut for the massive funeral service weeks earlier. In the days since, the grass and rainbow flower petals had been forgotten and the unusual plants had overtaken the trickling, calming river bank cutting through the land. He felt no comfort as the happy sunlight tickled his tanned skin. The warmth stopped there; inside he felt cold, afraid and angry.
Rolling the simple, petite gold band in his hand, he seethed at Maurelle's vicious threat he'd received the night before. She had Marie—his Marie. Her wedding band confirmed it. Owen pounded the balcony outside Miller's grand office. Marie would not send word on her location; she wouldn't risk Killian's life.
Owen pursed his lips together; he didn't relish the thought of his only child joining him against the Trinity, but he was realistic. Killian was going to face the Trinity and Maurelle whether they liked it or not. Maurelle would not let him hide from her. Owen was confident Killian would gain strength from his relic now that they had been reunited, and he was gaining strength with Infinium.
Owen cursed Marie for allowing her maternal instincts to keep her from reaching out to him. He took a deep breath remembering he, too, was a father. Living wild, away from his true family for nearly two decades, had changed him in ways he believed were good, but he often found his logical warrior emotions overpowered the once strong familial bonds he'd always cherished.
A soft creak signaled someone stepping onto the balcony with him. Turning around, he met his own eyes as he stared at Killian. The orange rings surrounding his son's pupils were faint in the bright light, but the jagged red scars of the power surging through him were encircling his lower neck even more after the battle against the Trinity.
"You're up early," Owen smiled. He knew it would take time for both Thomas men to regain a close relationship, but at times it was nearly impossible to find the right words to say.
Killian nodded but said nothing as he leaned over the steel balcony. He stared at the rising sun, looking thoughtful.
"Something on your mind?"
Killian looked at him, the bright, rusted orange pulsing brighter with each blink signaling his emotions were heightening.
"I guess I could ask you the same question. What's going on, and don't try to hide it from me. I can sense your anger and fear."
Owen scoffed, slightly annoyed at Killian's empath ability. "No, secrets from you, eh?"
"Well, you don't tell me much, Owen. I've had to find out most of what's going on from Dalia and Egan." Killian huffed, and turned his face away.
Owen bristled at the use of his first name, but he supposed he hadn't earned the term 'dad' and he tried to be understanding after hearing the circumstances Killian had been raised in.
"I haven't had time to work through it all. I'm not sure now is the best time to talk about it."
Killian pounded the railing of the balcony just as he had moments earlier. "You know my family seems to be the only people who don't think I'm capable of handling the truth of what's going on. The rulers of the realms understand the need for me to know. You, Rhetta, and Miller constantly keep me shielded from the truth. You know what I don't need is your protection. I lived without it for the last fifteen years and the Trinity is not going to treat me like an innocent child when they come against us."
Owen stared at the ground during Killian's rant. His own heart broke, and in moments like this he regretted the painful choice to leave his son alone in the world. He wondered if their relationship would ever be repaired.
When Owen said nothing, Killian shook his head and stomped back toward the large sliding window to return to the bright office.
"Maurelle has your mother," Owen said flatly. He heard Killian stop in his tracks. Slowly, Owen turned and held out the small gold band. "I received this last night. I don't know who delivered it, but it gave explicit details on what the Trinity was going to do to your mother unless we turned over you and Axel."
"And you didn't think anyone else deserved to know?" Killian said angrily.
Owen rolled his eyes, not at frustration with Killian, but himself. "Please be patient with me, son. I've become very accustomed to doing things on my own...just like you." Killian pursed his lips together, as if to keep a retort locked inside. "Maurelle knows w
e won't turn you over; she's simply telling me what she plans to do to threaten us. The Queen enjoys toying with her prey, you could say. Your mother will never seek help if it means risking your life. I know the woman; she will never allow herself to become a bargaining chip against her family. She'll die first."
For the first time Killian's expression softened and looked pained. "What do we do?"
Owen took a deep breath, shaking his head. "If you want honesty, Killian, here it is. I'm torn. Your mother is my heart and soul, but you are my child. Despite what you may believe, I cannot in good conscience lead you to a battle where you may not survive, but how can I sit idly by and let that monster torture Marie?"
"That's not an option," Killian said sternly. "I've already told you I'm not going to sit back and pretend I'm not a part of this anymore." Killian took a breath and stepped closer to Owen. "I know you care about...about both of us, but so do I. We aren't going to let her die without putting up a fight."
Owen smiled a small half-smile. "She'll never forgive me if I show up with you."
"Well at least she'll be alive to withhold forgiveness," Killian teased, but with a serious undertone. "So how do we find her?"
"We need to rally the Deshuits," Owen smiled.
"Are they going to play nice with the Ponderi?"
Owen shrugged and walked toward the window. "None of us really have a choice anymore, do we? We need to pick a side and fight with passion for our cause."
Killian paused before crossing the threshold into Miller’s large rectangular office.
“You don’t sound confident the Deshuits will be willing to join with us.”
Owen didn’t answer right away, instead he grappled the silver pitcher steaming on a small coffee cart against the wall. He poured the boiling water into a silver mug and methodically dipped a purple tea bag. Slowly, he sipped his drink until finally he glanced up at Killian.
“I learned a lot when I joined the underworld of the Deshuits. The Ponderi has not always been spotless in their dealings with the realms. James Thomas, your ancestor, began this organization with good intentions, but even he had his biases, magic being one of them. Throughout the Ponderi’s history, there have been reports of oppression in certain circumstances.”
“I’m not sure I understand what you are trying to say.”
“The Deshuits are loyal to the Hemisphere. The Trinity is their ultimate enemy; I am confident the majority of the clans will stand with the Ponderi. However, there are reasons they will never become a true part of the Ponderi or feel a part of their home realms. They feel the Ponderi forces individual races to conform to be a certain way, and sometimes conforming could suppress natural tendencies in each race. There are many gifted people throughout the Hemisphere, and it is quite common for the Ponderi to promote those with abilities to positions in the society that will benefit the Ponderi in the long run.”
“That’s what Blake said,” Killian said more to the ground than Owen.
“What was that?” Killian just brushed a hand through the air as if erasing his comment. “Anyway, I saw some of the oppression they spoke of during my time with the clans. The Deshuits just want to live the way that is natural for them. Cimmerians want to practice magic freely, Ignisians want to be fight for honorable causes and train their people in their powerful warrior traditions without regulation. Glaciens want to connect with the purest reaches of the Hemisphere. They may not agree with the Ponderi, but they will defend the Hemisphere and life. They understand Maurelle and the Trinity want to destroy Terrene. It goes against all the Deshuits stand for.”
“It’s frustrating,” Killian said joining Owen with his own steaming cup of fragrant herbal tea. “Since I arrived here the Deshuits have been painted as heathens, or dangerous Ponderi killers. Even people within the realms believe it.”
Owen smiled and sipped his mug. “I’m well aware of the prejudices against the Deshuits. I used to have the same thoughts before I joined them. When the Trinity was rising to power there were many powerful people throughout the Hemisphere that joined the Trinity. But there were also people who saw the evil in the Trinity’s cause and began to take up arms against those who had joined the society. Unfortunately, over time rumors spread that the new Deshuit group was full of bloodthirsty murderers who despised the Ponderi. The reality is the Deshuit’s only targets have always been Trinity members.”
Killian shuddered remembering how sickening it was to end a human life. He’d taken a Deshuit’s life when he’d first encountered a clan in Ignisia. The man’s lifeless eyes still haunted his memories.
“You okay?” Owen asked when Killian drifted away in his thoughts.
“You just talk about killing Trinity members like it’s nothing. I’ll never forget killing that Deshuit, ever.”
Owen’s face grew somber as he nodded his understanding. “I wish you hadn’t had to experience such a thing. Killian, I didn’t mean to sound callous. Even if we do fight the Trinity, taking a life is never easy. The Deshuits want people to live, and in most cases give them the chance to reform. Trinity members are very devout in their beliefs, though, and most would rather die than face Maurelle as a traitor.”
“I can’t believe I was so blind not to see who she really was. I actually thought…” Killian trailed off as if not wanting to admit how he’d considered Maurelle a close confidant and friend.
Owen stepped toward him and placed his hands on his shoulders. “Killian, she fooled many people for centuries. Her pain and anger are deep, and have festered these many years. She has had this mission stirring within her for so long it’s become an obsession. She was waiting for the proper moment, and with years of practice as a Ponderi ally, it was nearly impossible to see who she really is.”
The two men stood close to one another, both unsure how to respond to the physical closeness they were sharing.
Finally, after several increasingly awkward moments, Owen cleared his throat and stepped back. “I suppose we should head downstairs and join the others for morning training. They’ve probably already begun.”
Killian nodded and placed his mug back on the coffee cart. “Are you going to tell Miller about…about mom?”
Killian gulped as if the word was unnatural to him.
Owen smiled sadly. “I will tell him soon. He’s only just recovered from his injuries and this news will not go easy on him. I think he’s still getting used to the idea we’ve been alive all these years. In a way he feels a little betrayed.”
“I can understand, but he deserves to know.”
Owen nodded in agreement. His eyes trailed along the hallway as he got lost in thought.
“What is it?” Killian asked.
Owen stopped and peered up at him after touching the smooth steel wall signaling the elevator. The wall was shiny and new where it had been repaired after a large explosion from the Trinity attack. The explosion that had destroyed the wall had also taken the life of Killian’s friend, Sophia. Owen knew it had been hard for Killian and his friends dealing with her death. The Ponderi had never been the same since so many lives had been lost.
“Owen, what is it?” Killian asked again as the wall slid open revealing the hidden car.
“I just…I remembered something I heard about years ago.” His eyebrows scrunched, shadowing his eyes, before he shook his head. “It’s nothing, in fact I’m sure it’s impossible.”
“Is it something that could help find her?” Killian asked.
Owen smiled sadly. “There are many rumors throughout the Hemisphere that Merlin hid certain…things. I’ve never laid eyes on anything but the four relics. I’m sure it’s just rumors, but it would be nice if we could find a hidden weapon to help find your mother. No sense wasting valuable time on a myth though.”
Killian peered at his father, and Owen could sense his confusion, but did not push the conversation further. Killian followed Owen into the elevator car, unaware of the prying eyes from the shadows of the hallway watching them fly away t
o the lower floor.
Chapter 2
The Hag
Bant rushed along the soppy embankment of the freezing turquoise water that sloshed against the large glacier. Lars had not made it easy to find the record, the old fool. The Architect had entrusted the former advisor of the empress with finding the lost record and the man, shortly after, had been killed by Deshuits. Bant scowled thinking of Lars’ weakness. He clasped his hand around the leather strap securing the small bag on his shoulders; he would not let the Architect down as Lars had.
The blackened parchment seemed to scorch his skin through the leather. He smiled, his wind-burned, tan skin stretched against the cold. Ignisians did not fare well in Glaciem and he knew the Architect would be pleased with his sacrifice. Perhaps his capture by his traitorous brother would finally be forgotten and he could be elevated to second lieutenant.
“You seem rather pleased with yourself.”
Bant stopped in his tracks. A shiver raced along his spine as if ice had encroached among the vertebrae. Turning briskly, he met the lieutenant’s eye.
Blake glared at the large Ignisian. “I assume you were successful, or surely you wouldn’t keep that embarrassing smile on your face.”
Bant scowled at Blake. He’d been a member of the Trinity longer than the young one, but somehow Blake found favor with the Architect and it didn’t sit well with him having someone such as him with more prestige.
Opening the leather pouch, Bant reached his frozen fingers inside until he cradled the black and tan parchment carefully in his palm.
“I’ve retrieved what the Architect desired. It was not without great difficulty,” he added forcefully.
Blake scoffed and snatched the parchment from his hand. “Yes, well, remember it was not without difficulty breaking you out of a Ponderi prison without anyone noticing. This,” he said shaking the parchment close to Bant’s angry face, “is the least you could do to make up for your careless mistake.”
Bant fumed and steam burned through his shivering skin as his blood boiled beneath the surface. “It would have been wise to inform me I was battling a princess of two realms before sending me to kill her!”
