Birthright (The Stone Legacy Series Book 5)

by Theresa Dalayne

  “First, keeping the house in decent shape, and now coffee? She’s not a goddess—she’s a saint.” She took the mug and sipped the hot brew. Her eyes fluttered shut. “Nothing could be better.”

  He grazed his fingers over the back of her hand. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

  Something cracked against one of the windows, making Zanya jump and spill hot coffee on her hand. “Shoot!” She set the cup back on the counter and watched the burn heal and vanish within moments. Healing was her favorite ability by far. “What was that?”

  Another loud smack rattled the window, followed by another.

  She cautiously walked toward the window, peering at the small, colorful objects as they crashed into the glass and fell to the ground. “Are those birds?”

  They kept coming, an entire flock of yellow and blue finch-sized birds, all following each other to their deaths. Zanya clutched her chest, her eyes wide as blood splattered and smeared over the glass.

  Arwan stepped beside her. “What is happening?”

  “I don’t know, but…” She looked at Arwan. “That’s not normal, right?”

  Arwan shook his head. “No. That’s not normal.”

  ***

  Arwan

  Arwan walked outside to a graveyard of birds lying on the ground beside their home. Some were still alive, flapping their wings and spinning in circles. Others struggled and gasped for air. The rest, the lucky rest, were nothing more than tiny broken bodies.

  Zanya followed behind him and covered her mouth. “My god…” She crouched beside a bird flailing its tiny feet in an effort to stand, but all it was doing was kicking violently in the air. “Can we help them?”

  “No.” He held out his hand to stop her. “Don’t touch them. They could be sick.”

  She stood. “You think that’s why they all flew into our window?”

  It was possible, but not probable. “I couldn’t say—” The thick layer of soil slithered and snaked to life.

  Zanya gasped and leapt back. Arwan shifted, his eyes narrow as the jungle floor came to life.

  What appeared to be tree roots broke through the soil and coiled around the tiny feathered corpses. The roots bored into the bodies and coiled around them, snapping brittle bone and tearing open each creature before pulling it underground, leaving red stains splattered over green foliage.

  Arwan’s heart raced as he stepped back, his hand extended to Zanya. “Come on. Come on, right now.” She grabbed his hand, and he quickly guided her to the safety of the open bottom level of the home.

  “What the hell was that?” Zanya panted, still clinging to his arm.

  He searched every possibility, but came up with only one. Visions of Yaxche, the tree of life connecting all three realms, barged to the forefront of his mind. The tree served a wider purpose than to linger above the damned, trapping them in their eternal torment. It was a link between the underworld, the middle world, and the heavens, giving the dead a bridge for their journey.

  Arwan tightened his grip on Zanya’s hand. “My gods…” He recalled Contessa, the red haired vixen, once Sarian’s lover, now his predecessor. She consumed the souls of men to stay alive in the middleworld, leaving their hollowed vessels to rot on top of the ground. Anything that witch touched was destined for evil, and with her in possession of the book of Popul Vuh, it was only a matter of time before the underworld would rise. “What have we done?”

  “What are you talking about? What’s going on?”

  “It’s our fault. We never should have left.” He turned and studied the house on stone stilts, safe from reaching vines. “Wait…My mother built this house, knowing this day would eventually come. She knew…” He reached for more answers, but found none. “This doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Hey.” Zanya’s sharp tone commanded his attention. Her eyes were piercing and her lips tightly pressed. “Would you please tell me what the hell is going on?”

  “We have to get to the Temple of Inscriptions. We’ll find answers there.”

  She tilted her head. “How do you know that?”

  He touched one of the stone pillars, cool against his skin. The glyphs carved into the rock told a story. They spoke of the temple, where generations of history were etched into its walls. His mother used to tell him fables as he played outside. She said the markings would one day save mankind. “My mother told me so.”

  Chapter Ten

  Zanya

  Again, losing sight of her first rule only proved to blind her from the inevitable.

  Zanya sat on the bed, watching Arwan shove supplies into his hiking pack. He worked feverishly—blindly, even—as if the rest of the world no longer existed. Sweat collected on his brow and his eyes were narrow while he carefully counted the rest of their protein bars and divided them into rations for the day’s hike to the Temple of Inscriptions.

  “Arwan…” She stood, lingering beside the bed. He didn’t look up from the supplies, nor did he give any kind of indication he even heard her call his name. She took a hesitant step forward. “Arwan.” She was careful to keep her tone gentle. “Are you okay?”

  He finally looked up at her. “What?”

  “I…” She bit the inside of her cheek. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

  “Why wouldn’t it be?” He grabbed one stack of protein bars and slipped them into a small pouch in his pack, then zipped it shut. “You should get your things. We could leave tonight…” He paused, seemingly considering their options. “No. That’s too dangerous. We need the daylight. More roots could rise, and we may not see them in time in the dark.”

  Zanya twisted her fingers. Maybe he was fine, but her gut wrenched over the fact he didn’t notice she was absolutely not okay. “I don’t know if I can do this.” She shook her head, replaying the horrific scene of the birds being pulled underground. “I can’t—” She choked on her words and lowered herself back onto the mattress. “How could this be happening?”

  “It’s happening.” He stood and tossed his pack on the foot of the bed. “We need to be ready for it.”

  “I just…” She cradled her head in her hands, struggling for every breath. “It’s all happening so fast.”

  Arwan walked toward her and sat on the mattress beside her. “Zanya…” He draped his hand over her leg.

  She pulled away. “No.” She buried her fingers deeper into her hair. “Just…give me a minute.” She swallowed down the acid in her throat and pushed back tears, all to conquer the onset of a panic attack. It was just like when she was in the orphanage, except this time Tara wasn’t there to talk her through it.

  Her stone grew cold against her wrist, filling her with the peace she needed to steady her breath. She lowered her hands to her lap. When she finally looked at Arwan, his fingers were laced together with his forearms on his knees. He sat in absolute silence, his tense features and focused stare making it clear he had dived deep into thought.

  She ached to know exactly what was trolling through his mind. Where his imagination had wandered and if he was thinking about her. But after a lifetime of knowing his mother was raped, then carried him for nine months in disgust, only to abandon him before subjecting herself to death—this new revelation proved there was more to his mother’s story than he believed.

  That he was more to her than he believed.

  Zanya hung her head. How selfish could she be? “I’m sorry. It’s just been a lot of change in a short amount of time, and I’m still wrapping my mind around it all.”

  He laced his fingers between hers. “I know. It’s been a lot for me too.” He squeezed her hand. “And I know you miss Renato and your mother.”

  Zanya pursed her lips. “I spent my entire childhood missing my mother.” She huffed. “It’s ironic, isn’t it? She was gone all those years, and now that she’s back, a part of me wishes she weren’t.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “It’s true. If she weren’t here, we would still be in Belize with Renato, Tara, Pet
er, Jay, and Hawa…” Her stomach tightened, sending another pulse of bile up her throat. “I’d probably be training right now, learning how to use my abilities better. Especially now that the others are there—Eadith, Beigarth, and Grima, and those two Arab windthrowers.” She peered at her empty backpack lying in the corner of the room. “Now that I think about it, my mom hasn’t just exiled us, but she killed any chance of me learning how to take her place.” A coil of heat wound through her. She parted her lips. “Maybe that’s it.” She stood, letting go of Arwan’s hand. “Maybe she’s jealous.”

  “Jealous?”

  Her eyes widened. “It makes so much sense now.” It was the reason her mother hated Arwan being in the home. Why her mother discouraged her from wanting to learn Grima and Beigarth’s petrifying ability. Why when she and Arwan bonded, they were forced to choose.

  It was all jealousy.

  Her mother regretted no longer being the Stone Guardian, and didn’t want to see anyone surpass her own performance in that role. Even her own daughter.

  She peered at the pack a moment longer, and then walked across the room and snatched it off the floor. “She’s jealous of me—of us.” She knelt beside the drawers and opened one at a time, shoving pieces of clothes into her bag. “She and my dad never bonded because he was human, and she hates that I got everything she never had.” She stuffed the last piece of clothing in her pack and zipped it shut. “That has to be it.”

  “I don’t know.” Arwan stood and paced the length of the wall. “It does make sense.”

  “Hell, yeah, it makes sense.” Zanya put on her pack. “But I’m not going to let her win.” She touched the leather wristband with her stone held inside. “Let’s go, before it gets too dark out.”

  Arwan stopped pacing. “Now?”

  “Yes, now.”

  “But the tree. We have to be able to see its vines while moving through the jungle.”

  “You keep watch as we hike, and I’ll use every ability at my disposal to keep us safe if something comes up.” She walked toward the door.

  Arwan hooked his hand around her arm, making her pause. “Are you sure about this? Because if you are, I’ll follow you. I’ll trust you, and your abilities.”

  Zanya tightened her jaw, recalling her mother’s shrieking voice and trembling hands as she cast them out. As her mother, the one person who should have run to her defense, ordered her to choose—her family, or Arwan.

  At one time, she would have chosen her mother over anyone. Now everything had changed.

  “I’m the Stone Guardian, and I’m going to prove to you, my mother, and everyone else that I can do this—with or without her help.”

  ***

  Arwan

  He followed behind Zanya, using game trails and breaks in the thick jungle terrain. He managed to keep up with her pace, though barely.

  Something inside of her had changed.

  She was stronger now. More capable. More determined. Nothing she hadn’t been since the moment he met her. Except now it came from a different place. A place he knew all too well, having lived in the same dark hole in his heart for too many years.

  He scanned the jungle floor ten paces ahead, always keeping an eye out for movement under the leaves. Every hanging vine was suddenly a threat. The entire jungle had turned on them, and there was little he could do to keep her safe if the tree knew where they were and chose to strike.

  He furrowed his brow.

  Or perhaps it was being told where to strike.

  “Zanya.” He quickened his pace several steps and caught up with her. “I think Contessa knows where we are.”

  “Why do you say that?” Her eyes stayed focused ahead when she spoke, not shifting to him even for a moment.

  “The tree swallowed the birds, but it didn’t touch us.”

  “Because we ran to the house.”

  “Or…”

  She finally glanced at him. “Or what?”

  “Or it was told not to take us.”

  Zanya snorted. “Now trees are taking orders?” She seemed to contemplate his suggestion, and then slowed down for the first time since they’d left.

  “This isn’t an ordinary tree. You’ve seen what it can do. It tore those underworlders apart at Sarian’s command. It could do the same in this realm if it’s given permission from whoever possesses the Popul Vuh.”

  “Which is Contessa.”

  “Exactly.” A gentle, humid breeze wove through the trees, carrying the stench of rotting flesh. His throat tightened. “Do you smell that?” The odor burned the back of his throat and filled his lungs. He covered his mouth, fighting the urge to gag.

  Zanya lifted her nose in the air. “I don’t smell anything.”

  Something must have died, and his keen sense of smell wouldn’t allow him to overlook it.

  When the stench grew more pungent, Zanya crinkled her nose. “Oh my god.” She covered her mouth with her sleeve. “I smell it now.”

  “Stay close.” He shifted in front of her and crept forward. Hundreds of years of fallen leaves and spongy moss cushioned each step. The rising heat seemed to intensify the funk, making it almost unbearable to his heightened senses. He coughed and closed his mouth, but it was too late. The full impact of it had coated his tongue and slid down his throat.

  When the plant life thinned and the trees became sparse, he saw it—them—lying on the ground, consumed by crawling vines.

  Tapir, rabbit, fowl, deer, all in a mangled, broken mixture of sunken-in bodies, drained of fluids. Blood stained the soil, guts stretched over cracks in the ground, and wide, empty eyes stared sightlessly. The animals’ ribs pushed against thin layers of fur as if they’d been eaten from the inside out.

  “If what I suspect is true,” Arwan said in a low voice, “this is a message.”

  The light in Zanya’s chest burst to life. “She’s watching us.”

  The distant snapping of branches caught his ear, though it was so far in the distance, Zanya didn’t notice it. “We have to keep moving. The Temple of Inscriptions is only a few miles away, but it will take us several hours to reach, considering the terrain.”

  “Not with a little help.” She stretched out her hands, and moments later, clusters of clouds rolled toward them. They gathered into dark, looming shadows, as if a tornado were forming overhead.

  Zanya squared her stance, her face tilted to the changing atmosphere.

  He’d only seen her use her windthrowing ability once, when he had unleashed his darker half, and she was out to kill him. He was fully aware of how treacherous this ability could be. Trees bowed to the fierce winds, and a dark funnel formed, reaching down from the sky.

  Zanya pulled him behind her. “You may want to stay behind me.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Zanya

  Zanya squinted against the force of the winds, calling on the inner strengths she’d inherited from her bloodline. Her stone hummed loyally against her wrist, infusing her with more power than she could conjure on her own. As a team, she and her stone were unstoppable.

  “If we appear to be a threat, Contessa may order the tree after us!” The roar of the storm reduced Arwan’s voice to a mere whisper in the distance.

  “I’m not going after that tree.” She pivoted and extended her hands, directing the vortex straight toward the Temple of Inscriptions. “I’m going after the rest of them—all the way to the ruins.”

  Arwan’s grip on her tightened. The winds intensified, stripping leaves and tearing off branches from tress that must have been hundreds of years old.

  “Hang on, this is going to get rough!” She stretched her hands forward, pushing the storm through the jungle. The cracking of tree trunks was like claps of thunder. Winds sliced at the jungle, chewing anything green out of the ground and clearing enough of the foliage so they could complete their journey to the Temple of Inscriptions before nightfall.

  Once the path was clear, Zanya lowered her arms to her sides, urging the light in her chest to
dull. The winds faded until the sky stilled. Her muscles throbbed, and a deep fatigue washed through her, draining her face of heat. She examined the road of churned soil and grinned. “Well.” She wiped her sweaty palms down the front of her jeans. “Not bad, if I do say so myself.”

  Arwan raked his fingers through his hair and grinned. “Not bad at all.”

  “We had better get moving.” She rubbed her fingers together, measuring how much energy she had left after conjuring the storm. Unfortunately, the test revealed she had nothing. Completely tapped. Until she built up her endurance, it was important to pick and choose when she exhausted herself. That, or end up defenseless at the worst possible moment.

  The rest of the hike to the ruin was uneventful. Arwan insisted on walking ahead of her to look out for any more signs of danger. All the while, she couldn’t stop thinking about the scene of carnage they’d left behind.

  She’d read about the tree a while back in a leather journal Renato had borrowed from Contessa’s library. She frowned. That was before she and Arwan had braved the underworld to retrieve Jayden’s soul.

  Her heart ached at the thought of Jayden, back at home. She couldn’t find him before she and Arwan left. He was probably worried sick.

  Her mother may have wronged her, but the others hadn’t, and she desperately missed Jayden’s sarcasm and Tara’s watery laugh. There was no telling when they’d see each other again.

  She caught up with Arwan in the next few steps and stopped beside him, staring at the ruin. “Well, there it is.”

  Arwan shifted in silence. He seemed nervous or worried. Or maybe a little of both. Still, if his mother was right, they needed to know what was in that temple.

  She took his hand. “Come on. We’ll go up together.”

  ***

  Arwan

  The temple was more enormous than he imagined. Hundreds of narrow stairs led up to a single room with an open door. As they approached the top, the stories his mother had told him as a child echoed in his mind. This temple was more than the remains of an ancient civilization. It was a chapter in history, with truth etched into stone tablets inside.