Eversong (The Kindred Book 1)

by Donna Grant

  With those four dead, she turned and ran to Braith. She reached him with Jarin at her side, but when they tried to attack one of the elders, they were thrown back.

  She rose up to see a greenish-blue dome around Braith and the elders.

  “We cannot help him,” Jarin said as he stood.

  Leoma climbed to her feet. She couldn’t take her eyes off Braith. He fought like a man possessed. His movements were fluid, effortless. His raw, visceral rage matched his lust for death—and it was conveyed in every action.

  Her stomach clenched, as she was helpless to do anything but watch him confront two elders. Her hand tightened around the hilt of her sword, eager to join in the fray. But this fight wasn’t hers.

  His sword sang with blood. It rolled down his blade as he held his weapon with both hands, ready to end another elder’s life.

  Braith stepped and swung his sword. The two remaining councilmembers blocked him with magic. Out of Angmar’s hand shot a thick length of silver that looked like a whip. It wrapped around his sword, sizzling from the contact.

  His lips peeled back when she tried to yank his weapon from his hands. Braith spun towards Angmar and kicked Matilda in the chest.

  In the next breath, Angmar stood before him, her face inches from his with her magic whip crackling between them. “Join us.”

  How she repulsed him. “I’m no witch.”

  “The power of one flows through you. The Blood Skull is using you.”

  He scoffed at her. “You understand nothing.”

  “Then tell me,” she urged.

  “All you want is power.”

  Her dark eyes flashed. “I do this for my people.”

  “Nay, witch. That’s a lie you feed others, but I can see the falsehood on your lips.”

  “We’re growing stronger every day,” Angmar said. “More witches come to us.”

  He gave a loud snort as he glared down at her. “You mean other than the ones you force to join you? I saw your witches bring another to a Grove. I heard them say ‘join us or die.’”

  Angmar shrugged indifferently. “Some need a little push.”

  “You disgust me.”

  “I can kill you. Right here. Right now,” she threatened. As if to accent her words, the silver whip grew brighter.

  He twisted so his back was to Angmar. He gritted his teeth and put all his strength into yanking his sword free of her whip. There was a snap, and behind him, he heard a surprised inhale. Braith lowered his sword and slowly turned to face the elder.

  Angmar looked from his sword to her hands, but there was no sign of the crackling whip. “What did you do?”

  “Your time is up, witch. Prepare to die.”

  “Nay!” Matilda said as she rushed him.

  Armir read Jarin’s message and rushed to the tower. He threw open Malene’s door without knocking and found her standing in the middle of the chamber with her palms facing each other and blue light emanating from both.

  As well as her eyes.

  “Armir,” she said, her voice coming out as a husky whisper.

  Her eyes were directed at him, but he knew she wasn’t seeing him. He gradually walked into the tower, unsure what was happening. This wasn’t something he’d ever seen, especially not in a Lady of the Varroki.

  “I’ve news from Jarin,” he said.

  “He’s in battle.”

  Armir frowned as he glanced at the parchment in his hand. He wasn’t sure how she knew such a thing. Then he looked at the blue light in her hands. “What do you see?”

  “The Coven. And elders.”

  “So the council is there,” Armir murmured. He took a step closer. “I should go to Jarin.”

  Malene blinked slowly, the blue glow in her eyes broken for just a moment. “There is a Hunter with him. And someone else, someone using very powerful magic.”

  Armir dropped the hand holding Jarin’s message and kept his gaze on Malene. He didn’t know what was happening to her, and while it could benefit them, he was worried about the repercussions. Because power such as this came at a price. “Jarin said the Blood Skull was found.”

  “Aye,” Malene said as her blue light grew brighter. “The skull has found a Warden.”

  At her words, Armir remembered one of the many tales of the Blood Skull. It was said that it had a Warden, but since no one knew where the skull was, he figured that account to be nothing more than myth. It appeared that wasn’t the case.

  “The Warden is strong,” Malene said. “Formidable.”

  “Can he defeat the Coven?” Armir asked as he moved closer.

  Malene cried out suddenly, her back arching. Without thought, he dropped the missive and rushed to her, catching her before she hit the floor. He held her in his arms and smoothed back her hair as the glow faded and returned to her palms.

  Her troubled eyes, now once more their usual soft gray, met his. “That has never happened before.”

  “You were there, at the battle.”

  “I saw it as if looking down upon them. I wanted to help them. The Warden...he’s in trouble.”

  Armir nodded and gathered her in his arms. “You need to rest.”

  When he stood and glanced down at her, her eyes were closed. It didn’t go unnoticed that carrying her to bed was becoming a habit.

  And one he liked.

  But what worried him more were the changes he saw in Malene. Her magic was growing swiftly, and if she didn’t control it, it could easily rip her apart.

  Leoma yelled a warning when the flame-haired woman rushed Braith. The force of the witch’s magic against him shattered the dome surrounding them and sent his sword flying from his hand.

  When Leoma tried to go to Braith, Jarin wrapped his arms around her and held her back. She struggled against him, but he yanked her close and hissed, “Wait for the right moment.”

  Braith winced as he hit the ground hard, but he immediately rolled toward the skull. He grasped it in his hand, lifting it as he lay on his back. Then he shoved it at the black-haired elder’s face.

  Her screams of pain pierced the air.

  Leoma looked at Jarin. “We can take them. Now.”

  Jarin gave a nod and released her. They rushed the trio as the redhead kicked the skull from Braith’s hand and wrapped her arms around the other witch. The mist swarmed them, but by the time Leoma got there, the elders were gone.

  She slid to a stop beside Braith and dropped to her knees. Smiling down at him, she took his hand, noting the blood that covered him. The problem was, she didn’t know if any of it was his. And she had a sick feeling that he was dying.

  “My beautiful warrior.” Braith’s fingers wrapped around hers, strong and tight.

  She heard the pain in his words, and her heart jumped into her throat as she fought not to let her worry show. “How bad is it?”

  “I tried to get them all for you.”

  Leoma shook her head. “That doesn’t matter. Tell me where you’re hurt?” She looked behind her. “Jarin!”

  The warlock hurried over to them. Braith glared at him then turned his eyes to Leoma. “Did you replace me?”

  “Never,” she told him and brushed his hair from his face. “He’s a warlock who came to help me find you. I wouldn’t be here without him.”

  Braith rolled his head to Jarin. “My thanks.”

  Jarin nodded, but his gaze was moving over Braith’s body. “Where are you injured?”

  “Leoma, there is so much I want to tell you,” Braith said, refusing to answer Jarin.

  She licked her lips. “There will be time for that. We need to heal you first.”

  Braith closed his eyes, his pain evident. When he opened them, he gave a nod to her wounds from the battle with the witches. “You’re bleeding.”

  “And I’ll take care of it as soon as we see to you.” Her throat clogged with dread and regret. She had seen plenty of people die, and she knew that’s what was happening to Braith.

  He smiled at her. “The elders were e
xact in their strikes. There is no helping me.”

  “I don’t believe that.” She couldn’t. There was no way he held the Blood Skull and fought so valiantly only to die this way.

  She wiped at a tear that escaped and looked around for the skull. As soon as she saw it, Leoma jumped up and ran for it. Even though she knew how it had burned the witch, she still grasped it.

  It was warm in her hands as she rushed back to Braith and held it out to him. “Take it,” she insisted.

  He reached for it. As soon as his hands made contact, blood rushed from the skull. Jarin jumped back, but Leoma remained beside him, holding the skull with Braith’s hands over hers.

  His gaze held hers before his eyes slid closed. She watched in dismay as the blood coated him from head to foot. The longer she waited for him to move, the more anxious she became.

  “Braith!” she called. “Braith, please.”

  The blood suddenly halted, and Braith’s hands fell away. Leoma stared in shock.

  “He’s gone,” Jarin said.

  Leoma shook her head. “Nay. He cannot be.”

  Jarin tried to take the skull from her and jerked back when it singed his hand. He frowned at it and looked between her and Braith. “Set the skull on him.”

  With nothing else to lose, Leoma did just that. Her mouth parted in alarm when the blood began retreating back into the skull. When there was not a drop left on Braith, Leoma leaned forward and touched his face.

  “Born of blood,” she whispered. “Died in blood.”

  Suddenly, Braith’s eyes opened.

  “Reborn of blood,” Jarin said.

  Chapter 33

  Breath never tasted so sweet. The world had never been so bright. Braith gazed at the Blood Skull before grabbing it with his hands. His heart beat solidly in his chest, but he could still vividly feel the sensation of it slowing and—finally—halting.

  All the while, his thoughts had been on Leoma.

  His gaze moved to his side and clashed with dark brown eyes. The sight of those beautiful orbs filled with tears unmanned him. He reached an arm out for her and pulled her down against him. The soft, ragged inhale he heard made him hold her tighter.

  “I thought I lost you,” she whispered.

  “You did.”

  She straightened and slid her gaze to the skull in his other hand. “Her blood brought you back.”

  “Her blood gave me life,” Braith said as he sat up.

  “As enjoyable as this reunion is, we should go.”

  Braith turned his head to Jarin before glancing at the many places of scorched earth from witch deaths. “The warlock’s right. Angmar and Matilda could return at any moment.”

  “You know their names?” Leoma asked.

  He got to his feet and took her hand. “I know a lot more than that. I’ll tell you all of it, but we need to get clear of this place.”

  As Leoma stood and strode past Jarin she said, “I told you he wouldn’t betray me.”

  Jarin’s pale blue eyes met Braith’s. “I told her to be prepared for anything.”

  “It was wise council,” Braith admitted as he rolled to his knees before getting to his feet.

  He glanced at the path the witches had formed. He found his sword and retrieved it, returning the weapon to its sheath before he followed Leoma. Braith didn’t need to look behind him when he heard the trees moaning again. He knew they were forming another barrier.

  With the Blood Skull in his hand, they approached the trees where Leoma and Jarin had been hiding. The branches suddenly shifted, sliding from their knots to clear a narrow path riddled with thick roots protruding haphazardly from the ground.

  “It’s better than trying to climb through the trees,” Leoma said and glanced at Jarin.

  The warlock shifted his staff into his other hand. “Don’t look at me. I didn’t do this.”

  Braith watched as they both turned to him. He lowered his gaze to the skull. “Time and death didn’t fade her magic.”

  He was the first down the trail with Leoma behind him. As soon as Jarin passed, the branches knitted back together behind him. Braith held the skull close against him. There was no denying he felt very protective of it.

  “What happened to Eleanor?” Jarin asked.

  Braith was curious about the warlock. Somehow, it had never entered his mind that men could also have magic. All Leoma had ever spoken about was female witches. But that was a discussion for later.

  “The Blood Skull killed her,” Braith replied.

  Leoma let out a soft whistle. “I would’ve liked to see that. How did the skull do it?”

  “Blood,” Braith told them. “She filled the ground with so much blood that it pulled Eleanor under. There, the skull held the witch until the other elders arrived. Only then did it—she—kill Eleanor.”

  Jarin grunted behind them. “That’s what I felt then. The elders did as well since they screamed.”

  Braith exited the entwined trees and waited for Leoma and Jarin. As he walked past, the warlock bent and retrieved something from the ground. Jarin shook out the material to reveal a cloak.

  “Where to now?” Leoma asked.

  Jarin leaned the staff against a tree and fastened his cloak before wrapping his hands around his thick, wooden staff. “The council will be coming for Braith—and the Blood Skull. There is nowhere he can hide that they won’t find him.”

  “Let them come,” Braith stated as he tucked the skull against him.

  Leoma’s eyes widened at him. “I don’t hear any fear in your voice. They just killed you.”

  “He’s now the Warden of the Blood Skull,” Jarin said.

  Braith looked at the warlock without replying.

  Leoma glanced between them before throwing up her hands. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means the Blood Skull has chosen me to keep it out of other’s hands. No one else can touch it,” Braith said.

  There was a brash smile on Jarin’s lips. “Really? Why don’t you ask Leoma how the skull was placed on your chest where it then saved you?”

  Braith moved his gaze to Leoma, shock reverberating through him. “You touched it?”

  “I had to,” she replied with a shrug. She looked warily at the skull. “Something told me to get it to you.”

  He was so stunned by the revelation that he could hardly believe what he was hearing. “The skull told me anyone else who touched it would be burned. It’s an injury that cannot be healed, even with magic. Are you hurt?”

  Leoma lifted one shoulder. “The skull was warm, but it didn’t harm me.”

  “The answer is obvious,” Jarin said as he walked between them. “But if neither of you can figure it out, I’m not going to tell you.”

  Leoma rolled her eyes and let out a long-suffering sigh. “He’s quite full of himself. However, he saved my life and got me to you.”

  “I knew you would come,” Braith said.

  They turned as one and trailed behind the warlock. Having Leoma beside him again felt wonderful. Perfect. He never wanted to be apart from her again, and after everything they had been through, he wasn’t going to wait to tell her how he felt. He just didn’t want an audience when he did it.

  “Where’s my horse?” Braith asked after they had walked a good distance.

  Jarin said over his shoulder, “Being guarded by my wolf.”

  Braith frowned and jerked his head to Leoma. “Did he just say wolf?”

  “Aye,” Jarin replied.

  Leoma grinned. “Valdr is Jarin’s companion. He’s quite beautiful and very capable of killing witches. We fought together.”

  Braith smiled at her before turning his head forward. “It seems there is much I missed.”

  “Us, as well,” Jarin said as he came to a halt and faced them. “You said the Blood Skull spoke to you.”

  Braith nodded once. “She did. You sound surprised.”

  “I am,” the warlock, admitted. “My people—”

  “And who
are your people?” Braith interrupted.

  Jarin grinned as they stared at each other. “We are the Varroki, an ancient race of witches and warlocks.”

  Braith looked to Leoma. “Did you know of them?”

  “Nay, not until I met Jarin,” she answered.

  Braith shifted his gaze back to Jarin, but before he could ask another question, the warlock said, “I was tasked with watching Eleanor. The Varroki have been avenging and protecting those wronged by witches for centuries. We also catch and bring witches who harm innocents with the purpose of causing fear or doing evil to justice.”

  “You’ve failed with the Coven,” Leoma said.

  Jarin put both hands on his staff, his gaze lowering to the ground for a long moment. “The Varroki aren’t as mighty as we once were. We do our best with the resources that we have. We learned from a witch we caught years ago who the elders were. Finding the councilmembers, however, hasn’t been easy. They are rarely together. And no one has ever gotten close enough to attempt to assassinate one.”

  Leoma smiled. “Until Braith.”

  “I was only able to do it because of the skull,” he corrected them.

  Jarin shrugged as he dropped one of his hands to his side. “It matters not how you were able to do it. What matters is that the Coven has taken a mighty blow this day thanks to you and the Blood Skull. Yet the repercussions will be swift and substantial.”

  “We should get to the others and warn them,” Leoma said to him.

  Braith jerked his chin to Jarin. “How long have you known of Leoma and the other Hunters?”

  “Not long. I just learned recently. Malene, our leader, had a vision of them standing against the Coven and requested that I attempt to find one.” Jarin’s eyes went to Leoma. “Malene knew one of your kind would be following the Coven.”

  Leoma walked to Braith’s side. “You said we needed an army. If we join forces with the Varroki, we could have that.”

  “I cannot and will not speak for my people,” Jarin said. “Malene makes our decisions. She told me to find you. It was my choice to help you since we had a common goal, to end Eleanor. Now, I must return.”