Birthright (The Stone Legacy Series Book 5)

by Theresa Dalayne

  Arwan took a quick sweep of the space. He and Zanya were alone. Arwan tightened his jaw. The jaguar had left them by themselves, and he’d been too preoccupied to notice anyone who had approached.

  He reached behind him and silently pulled open a drawer in the kitchen, taking a large chef’s knife. The blade gleamed as the sunlight shined through the living room windows and cast over him.

  Another set of knocks pounded on the door.

  Arwan pressed his back against the wall and grabbed the handle.

  If it were Contessa or one of her minions, he’d be lucky to slow them down before he was in real trouble. At least it would give Zanya enough time to escape. Neither of them could face Contessa alone.

  He raised the blade and reached out to the brass handle. His breath quickened, and he gripped the metal knob.

  A third round of pounding rattled the hinges.

  Arwan flung open the door and leapt into the doorway, his knife poised to kill.

  A heavy stick bounced off Arwan’s forehead, rattling his teeth. “Foolish boy!”

  Arwan staggered back and lowered the knife while pressing his palm to the lump forming on his head.

  The old woman smacked him in the stomach with the homemade bludgeon and scowled. “Put t’at down before you hurt your own self, boy.”

  Zanya ran into the room, the light in her chest glowing brightly. She skidded to a stop. “Drina!”

  The old woman’s puckered features suddenly softened, and she displayed a full smile. “Zanya.”

  “What are you doing here?” Zanya ran to the Mayan soothsayer and hugged her tightly. Even Zanya, who was a solid four inches shorter than he was, was taller than Drina. Despite the woman’s small stature, she was a force to be reckoned with, and her presence here could only mean one thing.

  The others weren’t far behind.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Zanya

  “You have no idea how happy I am to see you.” Zanya squeezed her one last time before stepping back.

  “Me too, child.” She patted Zanya on the cheek before her gaze shifted to Arwan.

  Zanya glanced back at him. Arwan’s mouth was still gaped open at Drina’s surprise arrival—and surprise attack.

  Zanya sucked in a hiss through her teeth. “Ouch. What happened to your forehead? I can heal it.” She reached out to touch it.

  He flinched away. “It’s nothing.”

  Drina scowled. “You earned it.” Her tone had turned harsh and her smile had vanished, replaced with deep creases in her forehead and a slanted brow. “Is not safe. You open a door armed wit’ a hand knife t’at will not skin a tapir.”

  “Actually…” Zanya bit her lip. “Never mind.” She examined the swollen knot on his head. “You know I can fix that if you let me.”

  “You shouldn’t waste your strength on unnecessary healing. It’s not a serious wound.” He rubbed it again, peering at Drina. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Oh.” Zanya paused. “I didn’t think about that.”

  “You need to.” Drina grabbed her arm, and for the first time, her scolding was directed at someone other than Arwan. The woman let go and waved her wrinkled finger in the air. “You need to t’ink before you do, or you will get everyone killed. Is your job to lead. Be strong.” Drina gave a single nod, as if declaring her statement to be law.

  Zanya nodded along. “You’re totally right. My mistake.”

  “No more mistakes.” The woman stepped over the threshold, studying their home. Her tight lips parted. “Ohhh.” Drina hobbled farther into the living room, skimming her fingers along the walls as she walked. “Is very nice.” She clapped her hands together and turned toward Zanya with a broad smile. “Very nice indeed.”

  Zanya chuckled. “I’m glad you approve.”

  “T’is home needs to be blessed.”

  “Um…” She glanced at Arwan, who shrugged. “Okay. Sure. What did you have in mind?”

  Drina’s brows furrowed. “Blood, of course.”

  Zanya’s slouched. “Of course.”

  “Where are the others?” Arwan asked, taking Drina’s focus off the weird Mayan blood blessing thingy—thank goodness. She’d kiss him for that later.

  “T’ey will be here soon.”

  “You didn’t come together?” Zanya asked.

  “T’ey flew on t’e arrow-plane.” She drifted her flattened hand through the air, then dropped it to her side. “Man is not meant to fly. I came on bus, t’en kayak, and t’en Balam lead t’e way while servants carried me on litera t’rough much of t’e jungle.”

  “Servants?” Zanya looked at Arwan. “Wait, what’s a litera?”

  “One of those open chairs attached to wooden handles that servants carry someone on. Like for royalty.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Zanya nodded at Drina. “That’s totally less weird.”

  Arwan softly nudged her in the arm. “She is an ancient Mayan healer,” he whispered. “Even higher than royalty with our people.”

  Zanya cleared her throat. “Right.” Still weird. “Well, I’m just glad you made it okay.”

  A low chuff grabbed everyone’s attention. Balam dragged himself through the door, his fur slick and his ears pinned back. The jaguar paused at everyone staring, bared his teeth with a quick snarl, and stretched out on the floor in the sun, licking his paw clean of mud.

  “Where’s Cualli?” Arwan asked.

  Drina frowned. “She will be here soon.”

  Zanya stole a glance at Arwan, who looked equally worried over the vague response. “Okay. Well, you’ll stay with us, in the spare room.”

  Drina shook her head. “I will camp outside, under t’e stars wit’ t’e others.”

  “The hell you will.” She snatched Drina’s bag from the floor. “This is my house, my rules. You’re staying with us in a comfortable bed.”

  Drina raised both of her bushy brows. “You have grown up.”

  “Yeah.” Zanya smirked. “It happens to the best of us.”

  She led Drina into the second bedroom—what used to be Arwan’s room as a boy. Since they moved in, she dragged the bed against the far wall, but left the wooden mask hung on the hook where it was. Anything to chase away evil was welcome to stay.

  She set Drina’s bag at the foot of the bed and shrugged. “This is it. I hope you’ll be comfortable. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen, though there’s not much. Balam’s been hunting for us, and Arwan and I have been harvesting fruit from the local trees. I guess his mom had quite a garden going before she left. Cualli is taking care of the fruit and veggie-bearing greenery so we have food year round. Also, there’s just one bathroom, but it has two doors. One in our room and the other in the hall.”

  Drina walked to the wall where the wooden mask was displayed, admiring it in silence.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Zanya shadowed her. “Arwan’s mom hung it there. This used to be his room.”

  “Yes.” Drina touched the mask, as if recalling a memory. “Yes, it was.”

  ***

  The night had crept up on them quicker than she anticipated. Though they hadn’t heard anything from Contessa, Arwan hadn’t been himself since the night before.

  He sat on the foot of the bed with no shirt and a pair of shorts. His hair had gotten longer. The longest layer framed his square jawline while loose strands fell around his face.

  Zanya fluffed her pillow and sank into the down feathers. “You okay?”

  Arwan glanced at her. “Just thinking.”

  “About…” He hadn’t really elaborated on how he felt about this whole situation. Usually, she would be comforted with them having similar viewpoints. But this time, now more than ever, she needed him to be strong.

  She leaned over, spotting the red, swollen lump on his forehead. “Would you please let me heal that for you?”

  He grazed his fingers over the bump. “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

  “Liar.”

  He exhaled and lay down beside her, folding his hand
s behind his head. “If it makes you feel better.”

  “Finally.” She pressed her hand over the lump, channeling heat and healing energy to her fingers. “There.” When she pulled her hand away, the mark was still glaring at her. She brushed her fingers together. “Hang on. Let me try that again.” It had been some time since she used her healing ability. “You know what they say—if you don’t use it, you’ll lose it.”

  “Who says that?”

  She snorted. “Forget it. It’s stupid.” She positioned her hand over the mark again, concentrating harder this time. When she pulled her hand back, a smooth patch of flawless skin replaced the large bump. “See.” She thwacked his earlobe and lay back down. “Told you.” She flashed a smile. “Goodnight.”

  Once the room fell silent, another noise crept in—the rhythmic sound of what could have been a motor. “Is that…” She perked up and stared at the door. “Is that Drina, snoring?”

  “Don’t blame me. You invited her to sleep in the other room.”

  She groaned and wrapped her pillow around her head, muffling her ears. “Is she going to do this all night?”

  “Unless Balam eats her.”

  Zanya giggled and snorted.

  He wound his arm around her waist, pulled her close, and whispered in her ear. “Te amo, querida.”

  She didn’t have to understand a lot of Spanish to understand that. She bit her lip through a smile. “Me too.”

  It felt wrong to spoil the moment, but she couldn’t help but wonder if he said it for the first time aloud now, before it was too late.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Zanya

  The following night, Zanya sat across from Arwan in the living room, both of them watching Drina stare silently out the windows. Gusts of wind battered the trees, cutting through sheets of rain that drenched the jungle floor. Thankfully, rain meant the windows were finally washed clean of the aged blood smudged over the glass from the flock of suicidal birds.

  It was one less reminder of the war to come.

  Zanya tapped her fingers over her knee, bouncing her foot. “Do you think something happened to them?” She stood and walked to Drina’s side. “They should have been here by now.”

  Balam yawned, displaying his canines, and stretched his front legs out in front of him, flashing a set of needle-sharp claws.

  Zanya lightly rolled her eyes. “I’m glad someone’s not worried.”

  “T’ey will be here soon,” Drina said in a soft tone, as if speaking to herself. “T’ey will come.”

  “I’m going to seek Marzena, just to be sure everything’s okay.”

  Arwan shifted in his seat. “You really shouldn’t—”

  “I don’t care.” She glanced back at him. “Seeking doesn’t take a lot of energy, and maybe Marzena can give us an update on their ETA. It’s dangerous out there. Now more than ever.” She closed her eyes and sought the seemingly young dreamwalker, focusing on Marzena’s golden hair, fair skin, and fawn freckles dotted over her nose and cheeks. When they connected, a rush of cool energy flooded her veins. It took only a moment to get what she needed.

  When she opened her eyes, Zanya peered out the window into the distance. She pressed her hand against the cold window, leaving an outline of fog where her skin touched.

  Arwan stood. “Did you get through?”

  Balam sat up, his ears rotating to the front. He chuffed and pushed to all fours, then padded to Zanya’s side.

  “Yes.” A flicker of light pierced the darkness, showing like a tiny beacon of hope in the eternal darkness. “They’re here.”

  Arwan walked to the back of the house, coming out moments later with bundles of gray wool blankets.

  Zanya examined the linens. “What are you doing?”

  “It’s pouring rain. They’ll be drenched and exhausted.”

  Zanya scanned the space in their home. “We don’t have enough room for all of them inside.”

  “They’ll set up camp on the stone platform outside. At least it’s sheltered from the rain, and the tree’s roots can’t reach them there.”

  “Says who? Roots can crawl.”

  “Like I said.” Drina clenched the leather pouch hung around her neck. “T’is house needs to be blessed.”

  Zanya noticed something gleam between the cracks of Drina’s fingers. The woman removed a blunt dagger from the pouch and gripped the blade, sliding the sharp edge over her palm. When she was done, her palm flooded with blood that leaked out of her fisted hand, and down her wrist. “T’is house must be blessed.”

  Zanya rested her hand over her chest. She’d seen a lot of blood in her life—more than anyone should have. But to see Drina bleed took her breath away. “Are you sure—”

  “Leave her.” Arwan touched the back of her arm, as if reassuring her of Drina’s knowledge. “Her blood carries magic.”

  “And it will keep t’e tree from crossing a protective circle.” Drina turned and hobbled toward the exit. “We must hurry.”

  When she walked out the front door, Zanya turned to Arwan. “What do we do now?”

  “Whatever you want. This is your home.” He followed Drina’s path out the door. Zanya was on his heels, down the small set of stairs, and onto the covered stone platform.

  While Drina finished streaking smears of blood over the stone floor, Zanya walked to the edge of the now-protected platform, the tips of her shoes hanging over.

  Though the roots of the Yaxche had retreated back into the earth, the soil was churned and sucked dry of any life. It was clear Contessa was building its strength, helping it grow with any kind of nourishment—animal, plant, human, or minerals.

  The humid night air caressed her cheeks, sending a shiver up the back of her neck. She pushed out her chest and peered through the foggy darkness into the tress, where a tiny orb of light flickered in the distance.

  Zanya balled her fists and called on the light in her chest to illuminate, like a beacon for the others.

  The distant orb grew in size, and a yellow haze cast light over the features of the group as they hiked forward in a single file line.

  Zanya counted them in her mind as the group grew closer.

  Cualli was the first to come into sight.

  The group must have been protected by the middleworld goddess through their journey. Cualli’s confident, smooth stride gave Zanya a bit of encouragement.

  Her uncle, Renato, followed close behind, holding some kind of lantern. It illuminated the immediate space around them, giving just enough light for Marzena to follow without missing a step.

  The normally child-like dreamwalker seemed older now, with her hair pulled back in a woven braid. When the light from Renato’s lantern caught her eye, her sparking green irises seemed to glow in the night.

  Then came the Arab windthrower twins, Ahmed and Yousef, both wearing their trademark hats propped on the crowns of their heads. Rather than the traditional white garb, the brothers hiked in pants, boots, and zip-up fleece sweaters—identical except for the color. Judging by their wide eyes and quick glances at every noise, they had never seen the jungle before, and weren’t particularly excited to be there.

  Hawa and Jayden were next in line. Hawa looked the same with her hair pulled back in a tight bun, making her eyes look almost feline.

  A wave of relief washed through Zanya to see Jay again. She’d searched for him before fleeing the solstice celebration. When he was nowhere to be found, she and Arwan were forced to leave without saying goodbye. To know he was safe and well was enough to lift the thick weight of regret that had haunted her since that night.

  Tears stung Zanya’s eyes when her sights skipped to her best friend, Tara, walking beside Peter—the group’s healer and Tara’s boyfriend. Zanya shifted forward, but Arwan took her hand as if telling her to be patient and not step out of the protection of Drina’s barrier.

  Eadith, the French fire conjurer, was next in line. The burning red flames in her irises shone above her blonde hair and light complexion. St
anding taller than most of the others, Eadith rolled a small flame in her palm, tossing it playfully from one hand to the other, making her own light on the hike.

  Then, no one.

  Zanya examined each face, accounting for them on her fingers. “There’s three missing.” She swallowed. “Beigarth, Grima, and…my mom.”

  Zanya glanced to either side of her, hoping for some kind of explanation.

  Drina’s gaze intensified. She waited without a word.

  The pit in Zanya’s stomach deepened. What if something had happened to them? She’d blocked Marzena from communicating with her up until recently. Sure, she needed space, but if something terrible happened to her mother, it could have been the single most selfish move of her life.

  Balam butted his head against Zanya’s hip, pushing her against Arwan’s side. The jaguar god peered forward with inquisitive eyes.

  Zanya scanned the jungle, pausing on another distant, flickering light.

  The two petrifiers, Beigarth and Grima, stumbled into view, their huge frames and short legs so different from the others. Fur pelts were draped over Beigarth’s massive chest, his red beard now braided into three thick strands.

  Grima was Beigarth’s cousin, and their kinship was more than a little obvious at a glance. Her strawberry red hair was woven into a single braid, displaying her round face, broad shoulders, and round waist leading to narrow hips, lean legs, and fur boots.

  Zanya exhaled a nervous chuckle as the weight on her chest lifted. “Looks like Beigarth and Grima aren’t huge fans of long-distance walks.”

  “In the jungle,” Arwan added. “While it’s raining.”

  “T’ere is more to be afraid of t’an t’e rain,” Drina said as she wrapped her hand with a shred of cloth.

  “I can heal it if it hurts.”

  “No, child. Not necessary.” She squeezed the cloth and then unraveled it, showing her palm without so much as a scratch.