Eversong (The Kindred Book 1)

by Donna Grant

  He’d said he wanted many such mornings. She grinned thinking about it because it was something she wished for herself.

  How she longed to talk to Meg about Braith and the feelings she didn’t quite understand. Thanks to the Coven, Leoma had lost her best friend. She wouldn’t lose Braith, as well.

  The night deepened as the moon rose higher in the sky. No matter how many times she tried, sleep evaded her. Leoma’s mind kept turning over everything in her head to see if she had missed something when they arrived at the castle.

  Nothing had set Braith off. Roger had been the perfect friend and host. Yet there had to be something she should’ve picked up on, some word or action that would’ve alerted her that Roger was in league with the Coven.

  The stallion blew out a breath, his big head swinging to the side as its tail swished in agitation. Leoma kept still as she listened. The sounds of the night masked any movement she might hear, but she wasn’t fooled. Something was out there.

  Man, witch, or beast had found her.

  The shadows parted, and a form took shape. The wolf was huge as it unhurriedly walked toward her, ears pricked forward as its yellow eyes locked on her. Directly behind it, the darkness shifted to reveal a person cloaked so that she couldn’t see a face.

  She grabbed her sword and rose to her feet to face the duo. The person walked to the wolf and laid a hand upon the beast’s head. The wolf sat, never taking its eyes from her.

  Not even being exhausted from battle and hurting from her wound would stop her from defending herself. Leoma was prepared for anything. Or at least she thought so until the individual pushed back the hood of the cloak to reveal a portion of his chiseled face showing a square jaw and wide, thin lips.

  “Good eve, Hunter,” he said in a deep voice.

  Leoma was instantly on guard. “You know me?”

  “Aye. The Varroki know of you.”

  “Varroki?”

  His head bowed as he clasped his hands together on the staff he held before him. “I was sent to learn more about you, but after what I saw at the castle, I believe you could use my help.”

  She raised her blade and took a step toward him, even as the wolf stood, a low growl rumbling from the beast. She glanced at the animal to find its teeth bared. “You were at the castle and didn’t lend me aid?”

  “You had things well in hand for a while. While you are skilled in combat, you can do nothing about the magic used on your friend.”

  Leoma studied him. “How do I know you aren’t part of the Coven?”

  “You cannot,” the man stated. He then lowered the hood of his cloak to reveal long, pale blonde hair that fell past his shoulders with the top portion bound behind his head with a leather strip. “You will need to take my word for it.”

  “Why would I do that?” She tried to see the color of his eyes, but the darkness kept that from her.

  He glanced down at the blade of her sword. Then he lifted his hand and raised a finger before moving it to the right.

  To her shock, her blade began to follow his hand. The more she fought it, the more her sword pushed against her. Leoma gasped as she realized the man was using magic.

  He lowered his hand, the enchantment used on her sword halting immediately. “Did you really believe magic was only for women? Witches and warlocks go hand in hand.”

  “Warlock?” she repeated, shocked to her very bones.

  He took a deep breath and said, “My ancestors welcomed the magic that found the females. Those women were revered and worshipped. Magic has always come more easily to women, and they can have a wide range of magical strengths within them.”

  “And warlocks?” she asked.

  “Warlocks are rarer. When magic comes to us, it is strong. There is much more I can tell you, but you need to invite me into your camp.”

  Leoma raised a brow. “I don’t even know your name.”

  “I do not know yours either.”

  She really didn’t know whether to like or hate the warlock. After Roger’s betrayal, she was loath to trust again. But he was right. She knew how to kill witches, not stop their magic.

  “I’m Leoma.”

  A slight grin tilted his lips. “Jarin, at your service.”

  She sheathed her sword and said, “Welcome to my camp, Jarin.”

  Chapter 23

  Blackglade

  The drumbeat was steady, hypnotic as it reached up to the top of her tower. If Malene looked down, she would see the massive fires and the Varroki dancing around them. Their songs of battle rose up from below.

  Because everyone knew she’d had Armir send out more warriors.

  Malene looked down from her vantage point on the roof of the tower to see the powerful display of lightning that spread like fingers across the sky from cloud to cloud.

  The sizzling on her left arm made her look down to find the blue light from her palm running up her arm much like the lightning she had been watching outside.

  There was a fair amount she had yet to understand about the powers within her. For years, she’d fought against them while Armir guided her—not always patiently.

  They butted heads often, but the one thing she could count on was his loyalty. It wasn’t that he cared about her. He cared about the Varroki.

  She fell to her knees as the tingling in her arm spread to the other. It grew with each beat of her heart, becoming so painful that she shook with the need to be rid of it. It gathered, becoming stronger and brighter the longer it remained within.

  Malene hunched over, the thunder drowning out her scream of pain. And fear.

  “Why?” she demanded as she looked at the sky. “Why did you pick me?”

  Armir knocked on the door on the top floor of the tower to check on Malene. She had been more reclusive of late, and he feared that she was keeping her worries to herself.

  It could mean she was beginning to accept her role as leader of the Varroki. Or she was turning away from all that she was.

  He cracked open the door and looked inside to see if she was asleep. One glance showed that she wasn’t there. And he didn’t have to look far to find her.

  Armir flattened his lips as he closed the door and looked to the stairs leading to the roof of the tower. For some reason, Malene was drawn to the place time and again.

  When she’d first taken her place as Lady, he feared she might throw herself off. But he soon learned she was a fighter. Malene didn’t want her role, but she accepted it until the time came that she could pass it on.

  Unfortunately, the only way she could transfer it was through death.

  And he wasn’t ready for that.

  He took the stairs three at a time and found her on her knees, her head lifted to the sky as she shouted something that the wind carried away from him.

  Armir started toward her when she raised her arms over her head, and blue light shot out of both hands. He stared dumbfounded at what he saw—because it was a prophecy come to life right before his eyes.

  Every leader of the Varroki had the blue radiance on their left hand, but for ages, there had been one foretold who would have the glow in both hands.

  That person was said to be the one who would usher in a new era for the Varroki. The prophecy never said what the new age would be, however. There was no distinction between good or bad. The Varroki could be destroyed for all anyone knew.

  When the blue light faded, and Malene fell to her side unconscious, Armir hurried to her. He knelt beside her and moved a lock of her flaxen hair from her face.

  He knew in his gut that he couldn’t tell her about the prophecy. She already balked at her role. If he told her the rest, it might be the very thing that finally broke her.

  Malene was one of the strongest women he knew—and he had known several—but she was frightened of the power within her, and she was vulnerable.

  Why did it have to be her that was meant to fulfill the prophecy?

  He took her hands in his and turned them over to see faint blue radianc
e running from the center of her palms, up her wrists, and into her forearms before fading. His gaze lifted to her face, but she remained asleep.

  Armir gathered her in his arms and stood. Her hands flashed a bright blue before dimming. Even unconscious, her power was formidable.

  Any enemy of the Varroki should beware of what was coming for them. If Malene acknowledged who she was, then she could leave destruction in her wake with merely a thought.

  The wind shifted, and he heard the numerous drums from below. The beats were even and calm, while the people sang loudly, offering up their voices and magic.

  It was Malene who inspired such songs. He allowed her to believe that their people didn’t accept her, but that wasn’t the whole truth. The Varroki trusted in the magic to bring them their rightful leader, but anyone who fought against the title led the people into disasters that had nearly wiped them out. So Armir pushed Malene in another direction.

  For his people. For her.

  And for himself.

  He had watched two other leaders die, and he didn’t want to lose another on his watch.

  The wind stirred around them, lifting her hair to dance about his face, tickling his cheek with a faint brush of the fair locks before falling away.

  He began to turn when his gaze landed on one of the six stone pillars stationed around the roof of the tower that stretched toward the sky. Before, they stood straight. Now, each was curved inward as if they were reaching for something.

  Malene had done that. But for what purpose? And had she even known what she was doing?

  Armir turned and carried her down the stairs and into her rooms. Inside the tower, he walked to a bed she had ordered set up. Her sleeping quarters were a floor below, but she preferred this room. Almost as if she couldn’t get close enough to the sky.

  He gently laid her down and covered her with a blanket before turning to the hearth. Holding out his hand, he let a ball of fire swirl in his palm before he shot it to the dying embers. Flames erupted, causing light to flare in the chamber for a moment.

  Turning, he walked to the table with one of the opened books Malene had pulled from the shelves. He stared at the pages, but he didn’t see the words. His thoughts were on Malene and what he had witnessed above.

  With the Varroki involved in their songs, there was a good chance few of them saw the blue lights. Without a doubt, there would be those who kept their eyes on the tower and saw the display, though.

  Malene, like most Varroki leaders, kept to herself. There wasn’t a reason to protect her from the knowledge of the prophecy, but he would. He wanted no talk of it to cross anyone’s lips—not even his own. He would keep that well hidden.

  With the threat of the Coven and their growing power, as well as Malene’s hesitant rule and doubting her own confidence, he didn’t want to add anything else to her burden. So he would shoulder the worry alone.

  He braced his hands on the table and dropped his chin to his chest. Hopefully, the warriors he’d sent out would find those Malene had seen in her vision and report back. Uneasiness sat heavily upon his chest after her predictions of slaughter, now compounded by the rise of the prophecy and the Coven’s growth in power.

  None of it was a good sign.

  “You should let me see to that wound.”

  Leoma untied the bloodied bandage around her left shoulder and glanced at him. As soon as it was safe for her to build a fire, she planned to put a dagger in the coals to heat a blade and cauterize the wound.

  “You need to stop the bleeding,” Jarin said as he came down on his haunches next to her.

  She looked up at him. “I plan on taking care of it as soon as I can.”

  “We’ll do it now.” He stamped the end of his staff on the ground and a small fire formed before her.

  She jerked her focus from the fire to him. “How did you do that?”

  The light shed on his face allowed her to see what the shadows withheld—his eyes. They were the palest blue she had ever seen. They were so fair they were nearly colorless. Only the bright cerulean outlining his irises allowed her to see the hue within.

  “You know how I did it.”

  She shook her head, coming to terms with knowing there were warlocks out there.

  Jarin set down his staff and dropped to his knees. He went to reach for her, but Leoma leaned away. His lips compressed as something wild and angry flashed in his eyes. “If I wanted you dead, I could’ve killed you at the castle or anytime while I followed you here,” he said.

  The truth of his words upset her the most. She had been so intent on pursuing the Coven that she’d forgotten to look behind her. “You could be taking me to them.”

  “Then why have they not already surrounded you?” he asked with the quirk of a brow.

  She licked her lips, nodding in agreement. “Tell me why you’re here.”

  This time when he reached for her, she held still. With his help, she removed her cloak and vest. He looked at her wound for a long moment.

  “I’m here because I was told to find you.”

  “Me specifically?” she asked.

  He gave a shake of his head. “Our leader had a vision of slaughter. In the aftermath stood the Coven and a small group. It’s your people Malene saw.”

  “She saw Hunters?”

  He gave a quick shake of his head. “I heard the term while at the castle.”

  “And what do you want with us?”

  Jarin stood and shoved his cloak over his shoulders as he walked a few paces from her, inspecting different plants. “An enemy of the Coven is our friend. We fight the Coven and everything they stand for.”

  “That’s good to know.” Leoma bit back a wince when she moved her shoulder, causing more blood to flow. Fighting was going to be painful.

  He picked a few leaves from a plant and returned to kneel beside her. Except he didn’t touch her. He doused the leaves with water before handing the waterskin to her. Leoma drank deeply while watching him gather soil in his hands and roll it into a ball around the wet leaves.

  “Why do you fight the Coven?” he asked as he flattened the ball into a thick disk before placing it on her wound.

  Leoma was about to balk, but almost immediately, she felt warmth and then a slight tingling seep into her injury that minimized the ache so that she could breathe easier.

  “Thank you,” she said. After he bowed his head and sat back, she thought over his question. “Long ago, the Coven hunted a witch to bring her into the fold. She eluded them for years before she decided to take a stand. She ended up killing four of them. She and her knight found me, a starving, homeless kid on the streets. They brought me with them and set up a place to teach others to fight against the Coven.”

  “Witch Hunter,” he replied staring into her eyes.

  “Just those of the Coven. I know the difference between those who do evil with their magic and those who do not.”

  Jarin patted the ground, and the wolf that had stood silently the entire time padded forward and lay down next to him. “Without magic, you cannot kill a witch.”

  “I may be without magic, but my blade isn’t,” she said, nodding to her sword.

  He grinned. “I like you, Leoma.”

  “You like that I can fight and that I’m standing against the Coven.”

  “Aye, there is that. I also like your courage. I’ve not seen it in one such as you before.”

  She raised a brow. “You mean a woman?”

  He sank his hands into the wolf’s fur and petted the large animal. “Our leader is a woman. Your sex is not what I speak of.”

  “What do you mean then?”

  “You’re a warrior. You call yourself Hunter, but there is little difference in us. There are those who say they are warriors, and then there are those like you.”

  She stretched out her feet toward the warmth of the fire. “You’re not so bad yourself, warlock.”

  His answering chuckle made her smile.

  Chapter 24


  Trust wasn’t exactly something she gave the warlock, but Leoma wasn’t too prideful to know when she needed help. If Jarin were going to heal her injury, she would accept that and all the information he shared.

  “I’ve never heard of the Varroki,” she said.

  He clicked to the wolf that rose and trotted off into the night. Jarin then dug into a bag hidden beneath his cloak and produced a loaf of breath. Without hesitation, the warlock handed it to her. She met his gaze before accepting it.

  “You need this more than I do. Eat,” he urged.

  She didn’t need to be told twice. Leoma took the bread and tore off a chunk before stuffing it into her mouth.

  Jarin shifted so that his back leaned against a tree and his face was averted from the fire. “I’ve been tracking the Coven for some time. Specifically Eleanor.”

  “Who’s she?” Leoma asked around a mouthful of food.

  “One of the Coven’s councilmembers.”

  Leoma swallowed and blew out a breath. “I knew it as soon as I saw her. She has to be the one with Braith.”

  “She rarely leaves London,” Jarin continued. “I’ve been trying to get close to her for months. As soon as Eleanor left the city, I let my commander know.”

  “And where are the Varroki located?”

  He grinned, telling her he wasn’t going to share that information. Just as she wouldn’t tell him where the abbey was.

  So she tried a different question. “How do you communicate with the Varroki?”

  “Ravens mostly,” he replied. “They carry messages back and forth for us, but I prefer Andi.”

  Leoma frowned at the name. “That means spirit.”

  “You know Norse?”

  “Aye. Who is Andi?”

  Jarin grinned as he said, “My falcon. She’s fast.”

  Impressed, Leoma then asked, “How does the Coven not know you’re following them?”

  “The same way you didn’t see me in the great hall as you fought the witch and the others.”

  He had been in the hall and she hadn’t seen him? That left Leoma reeling. “I notice everything.”