The Scythian Trials

by Elizabeth Isaacs

  “He took over after his father died four years ago. You’ve been squirreled away at the Academy with little access to outside news sources. And even if you did know, there is more than one Allos named Penn.”

  “Like that makes me feel any better. Will you tell me what happened?”

  Victor studied her for a moment. “A few years before the USSR dissolved, the Drahzda invaded outlying communities they knew had hidden priceless artifacts from the communist regime. While in a Kazakhstani village, Dmitri Sarkov came across a young woman, Elena Karimov. It is said her beauty captivated him, and he kidnapped her that night. Within the year, she bore him a son.

  “According to our sources, Elena took precautions to make sure she had no more children, and she protected Penn as best she could. However, when the boy turned twelve, his father insisted that he start training as the next leader of the Drahzdan Empire. At thirteen, he was to be branded a soldier and sent to their top facility by the Kara Sea.

  “Knowing Penn’s artistic heart and having heard the horrors of what Drahzda training involved, Elena became desperate, fearing her son wouldn’t last a day. When a blizzard hit the region, she ran her car into the river, faking their deaths, and fled. The Society had operatives watching the fortress, and they came upon the wreck. Posing as good Samaritans, they helped her and the boy escape to Ireland, and that’s when Alexandra ordered your father to keep tabs on them.”

  “My parents would never have let us become friends. Unless ...” Her voice died as she connected the dots. “They knew.”

  A million memories of her and Penn flashed through her mind, cataloging the times her father happened to appear when she was showing too much of her Scythian strength, or when a discussion became too personal, or when she forgot and started speaking Dacian instead of English. Their fort was the only place she and Penn were truly alone, and that was because no one knew of it—not until her father followed her the night he’d found them together. “They spied on us, didn’t they? Did they bug my clothes?”

  Victor’s calm expression never changed, and Nya’s head fell back against the plush seat.

  “Why would my parents allow me to be friends with Sarkov’s heir? I was only ten when I met him. What could they have possibly discovered?”

  “This is a discussion for Gia and Ike.” Compassion warmed his eyes. “But I can be there to help if you’d like.”

  “Thanks,” she muttered.

  “Now.” He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a pair of reading glasses and a notepad. “I’d like to discuss this latest flashback.”

  Nya took a deep breath and held it before slowly letting it go. “I remembered Penn. Only he wasn’t the Penn I knew.”

  Victor slid his glasses into place. “Explain, please.”

  Her gaze moved to the bed as her thumb worked furiously over her palm. “Growing up, Penn was loving and kind, and he knew me better than anyone. The Penn in the last two flashbacks wasn’t the boy I knew. He was a monster.”

  “And which do you think is accurate?”

  Nya hesitated. “What do you mean?”

  Victor glanced up. “The mind is a most fascinating thing, Anya. It has the ability to protect us from traumatic situations. Sometimes we suppress memories, other times we alter them. And so, my question is this: Out of the two perceptions you have of Penn, which do you think best represents him? The boy from your youth, or the man from your memory?”

  “Why does he have to be one or the other? I suppose he could be both.”

  “Yet, according to Dr. Nickius, you consistently reject the idea Penn was something other than your friend.”

  She rubbed her forehead. “I’m not rejecting the idea ... well, I am. I mean ...” She grew flustered. “Look, you didn’t know Penn. He was a good guy. He accepted me, even though I was so different from him. We shared secrets; he made me laugh. We even made a pact—” she stopped midsentence.

  Victor kept his eyes on his notepad. “How so?”

  She looked away. “How so what?”

  “You know well what I’m asking. How did you and Penn make a pact?”

  Nya fidgeted with her dress. “It’s been a long day. Can we talk about this tomorrow?”

  Victor sat back. “What you fail to see is that right now I hold all the cards. As your psychiatrist, I could call the Rovni Council tonight and inform them that you are not mentally fit to finish the Trials. You would then be shipped back home to Ireland to shoulder Lucian Savva’s mark.” Victor leaned over and patted her leg. “Don’t worry. Your mother has assured his lineage goes back to the Celtic warriors, and he seems a nice enough fellow.”

  She scowled. “That’s blackmail.”

  “No, Anya. That’s reality.” Victor set his pen back on the pad and looked down. “The pact you made with the young lad. Explain.”

  Nya glared for a moment before leaning back in her chair. “It was a few months before I turned seventeen. Penn’s father started visiting his mother, and Penn hated the man. That summer, his father stayed longer, and Penn practically lived in our secret fort. He became obsessed with protecting me. No matter how many times I told him I could take care of myself, he didn’t believe me.” Nya glanced at the bed. “One day we argued about it. I told him we’d always be friends, no matter what, and Penn asked me to prove it. The Allos had a ritual called a blood oath that swore fealty to another. He asked if we had anything like that in our traditions, and I said we did. Knowing how important equality is to me, he suggested we take a little of each and create our own. That night, I taught him the Dacian chant that went with our ceremony, and we cut our palms and then held hands, something they did during a blood oath.”

  Victor’s fingers tightened around his small pad of paper. “Did you teach Penn our language?”

  Nya grew uncomfortable. “Just the words for the ritual. Nothing else.”

  “What else did you tell Penn about the Scythians?”

  She hesitated. “He thought we were Celts who kept ancient practices alive. He knew my father and mother went away on missions, but I told Penn they worked for Ireland’s G2 Intelligence agency.”

  “And what of your obvious physical abilities?”

  “Penn used to say that I must be some secret science experiment, like a test tube baby or something, because I was so strong, and my cuts and bruises always healed within a few hours where he took a week or two.”

  “That day, when you initiated the Epona, did you tell Penn of its significance?”

  “Why do you think I chose the Epona?”

  Victor looked over the rim of his glasses. “It’s the only ritual in our history that requires blood.” He looked back down. “I ask again, did you tell Penn of its significance?”

  Nya rubbed her palm. “No.”

  “And how did he react after it was over?”

  She thought for a moment. “He didn’t feel well, and then I didn’t see him for about a month. But when Penn came back he was more, I don’t know, intense. That’s when he started working on the docks.”

  “Ah, and your father caught him in your backyard and sent him on his way.”

  “How do you know about that?”

  Victor shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. What’s important is that Penn changed after the ritual, yes?”

  She stared at the bed. “I never thought about it, but yes. I guess that’s when things changed.”

  “And did it not occur to you that it might have something to do with your impromptu ceremony?”

  Nya scoffed. “Oh, come on. Don’t tell me you buy into the mumbo jumbo crap. It was a few Dacian words so Penn would stop being a worry wart.”

  “No, Anya. It was a sacred ceremony in which you shared your blood with an Allos.”

  “What?”

  Victor took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do they not cover basic Scythian biology at the U.S. Academy?”

  “Of course they do.”

  “Then explain what happens if s
omeone of our species shares blood with an Allos?”

  Nya met his gaze. “I’m not sure.”

  He put his glasses back on and placed pen to paper. “It’s usually lethal.”

  “But Penn wasn’t hurt.” She ran her palms up and down her lap. “I mean, come on. We’re all human. And it wasn’t like he took a pint of my blood. If anything, there might have been a drop or two at the most.”

  “Anya, while Allos blood does nothing to us, Scythian blood acts like a virus, attacking their cognitive systems. Since the 1800s we’ve blamed any accidental contact with the rabies disease. No Allos has been exposed since World War II, at least none the Society is aware of.”

  She blanched. “Are you saying that my blood turned Penn into what he is today?”

  “I doubt it. But I would like more information on the matter.” Victor placed his pad and pen on the side table. “Close your eyes.”

  Confused, Nya glanced up from her hands. “What?”

  “We’re going back to the day you swore fealty to Penn.”

  “I don’t know ...” Jax was the only one she trusted enough to do this regression thing with, and even then, it was difficult.

  “It’s only a relaxation technique to help you recall your memory, nothing more.”

  “That’s all?”

  He raised his hand. “Warrior’s honor.”

  She sighed and closed her eyes.

  Victor’s voice became a soft lull, caressing her ears, enticing her as he coaxed her into a trancelike state. Her hands stilled, palm open, and she was vaguely aware of him stroking her scar.

  The odd thing was, it didn’t bother her.

  His voice floated overhead. “Excellent, Anya. Let’s go back to that day. You were in your fort, teaching Penn the words he needed to say. And then what happened?”

  Nya’s voice came from somewhere in the distance. “Penn had a pocket knife. He insisted on running the blade over a candle flame first so it would be sterile. He cut his palm, and then I cut mine.”

  “And then you pressed your palms together?”

  Nya hesitated. “No.”

  “What happened after you cut your palm?”

  “Penn had a little glass container with him. He placed it on the edge of my hand and squeezed, collecting blood in the vial before fastening the top and then putting it on a string around his neck. He said not to tell, but he wanted to keep a part of me with him. And then we pressed our palms together.”

  “Raise the hand you scored that day.”

  Nya raised the scar-covered palm.

  Victor counted to ten, and with each number, she floated back to reality.

  “You’ve done well, Anya.”

  She opened her eyes, and he put his pen and pad in his breast pocket.

  Guilt knifed through her. “I didn’t remember Penn taking my blood until tonight.”

  “You were just a vahna, and you trusted Penn. Although it concerns me that you never questioned him.”

  She wrung her hands. “The vial couldn’t have held more than a few ounces of blood.”

  “Did you ever find out what Penn did with it?”

  “I think he said he dropped it on the way home and it broke, but I can’t be sure.” She looked away, deep in thought. Her thumb found its way to her palm, circling furiously over the scar.

  “Please share your thoughts.”

  She took a breath. “I just remembered something else. I made Penn a silver bracelet.”

  “And what did this bracelet look like?”

  Her shoulder’s slumped as she looked down. “It was a single spire dragon.”

  Victor glanced at Nya’s arm. “The same symbol used to protect you until you shoulder your rovni’s mark. Interesting.”

  She glanced at him. “I loved Penn but as a friend and not as an equal.”

  Victor patted her knee. “I know. But the significance of the gift can’t be overlooked. Still, I’d like to wait until after the Trials to explore this further.” He took off his glasses and placed them in his pocket. “It’s late, and morning will be here soon enough. Get some rest.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The Chancellor stared at the top three monitors, which now showed an exhausted Anya pacing in front of the bed after her session with Dr. Ramova. Even though Alexandra could see the room from every angle, there was no sound. She should have anticipated Victor petitioning the council to remove all listening devices. He claimed they needed a safe place for their sessions, and the council agreed.

  Idiots.

  Her eyes skipped along from camera to camera, watching Victor make his way toward her suite. From his set jaw, he had something to share. And it didn’t look good. Alexandra picked up her tumbler and took a healthy swig.

  She waited until he passed the guards at the end of her hall before turning from the monitors.

  A sharp knock sounded in the silence. Alexandra tightened the sash of her wine-red robe as she made her way to the front room. She opened the door.

  Victor pushed his way through without so much as a hello and headed straight for the liquor cabinet. Pulling two crystal glasses from the shelf, he poured them drinks and handed one to her.

  Alexandra took a seat in the nearest chair. “What has you so worked up that you felt it necessary to disturb my downtime?”

  His eyes cut to her. “Don’t pull that with me, Alexandra. You and I both know you were watching Anya’s monitors, cursing the fact that you couldn’t hear what she was saying. You probably tracked my progress until I reached your private quarters.”

  Her cheeks heated. “Get to the point. Why are you here?”

  “Penn had a sample of Anya Thalestris’ blood. Before she was taken.”

  The Chancellor’s tumbler froze midair. “You sure?”

  He threw back his drink in one smooth motion before getting another. “Positive. And that’s not all. Apparently, Nya performed the Epona ritual with Penn.”

  She waved her hand as if to dismiss the idea. “Impossible. Penn would have to know Dacian. And the completion of the ritual involves intercourse. Nya is still a novo.”

  “She taught him the words to speak, and the ritual only states they share blood. The original Amazons were the ones who placed a cut on the male’s penis so his pain would equal his romni when he took her for the first time. Nya and Penn sliced their palms.”

  Alexandra reached for a silver case on the side table. “So he was exposed?”

  “Yes, but Nya insists it was only a few drops. How he survived remains to be seen.”

  “Do we know how long he had the blood before she was taken?” She took out a hand-rolled cigarette and lit it.

  “I estimate eighteen months, two years, tops.”

  She stared at the red ember on the end of her cigarette. “The timeline would explain why the United States and certain parts of the Middle East began heavily investing in clone research.”

  Victor’s stoic expression hid the emotions churning within. “If you have proof these countries are working with the Drahzda, it’ll change our open policy with both regions.”

  She took another drag, the smoke curling around her face as she spoke. “Right now, it’s too circumstantial. Sarkov Industries are one of the pioneers in genetic manipulation, and their prints are all over the U.S. and Middle East’s classified human cloning projects. Scythian blood gets into the wrong hands, and we very well could be waging war against ourselves.”

  Victor wearily rubbed his eyes. “Anything else?”

  She stood. “Nothing I can share at the moment.”

  He stood as well. “Do you mind if I check the security cameras? I’d like to make sure my candidate is resting.”

  The Chancellor smirked. “Of course. But if the female is anything like her father, she’ll be sparring with her candidates in the bedroom before putting them through their paces on the field.” She started toward the other side of the room, where her private chambers were. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

&nbs
p; Nya wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed—and then she remembered the last time she’d fallen asleep she dreamed of her hand being nailed to the deck of a ship.

  And didn’t that make her want to snuggle down and count sheep?

  Even though exhaustion had set in, maybe she’d take a shower ... and after that, a little light reading ... or she’d find the gym.

  She stripped out of her dress and unpinned her hair, letting it fall to the small of her back. Left in nothing but a bra and panties, she rummaged through the built-in drawers, bypassing silk and lace in hopes of finding some good old-fashioned cotton pajamas.

  A door hinge creaked from the other room. She froze.

  What the hell? It was well past midnight—whoever was in her room had to know she’d be here. Maybe they thought she was already asleep.

  She silently cursed as she spotted her satchel next to her bed. Ducking low so they wouldn’t see her reflection in the mirror, Nya grabbed the small jar of ceremonial oil from the dresser before finding a silk scarf in the bottom drawer.

  Wrapping the scarf around itself, she created a makeshift sling and placed the jar in the center pocket. Still crouched down, she swung the scarf by her side, gathering momentum as she rounded the corner. A tall frame and broad shoulders had his back to her as he closed the door. He turned, and Nya let go of the scarf. The oil hit the floor with such force it shattered.

  “Shit, Jax. I could’ve killed you.”

  He froze, not saying a word.

  “Won’t you get in trouble if you’re caught with me? Wait. Has something happened to my parents?” Panicked, she started toward him.

  He stepped back. “We never finished our conversation, and we haven’t started your desensitization sessions. Where are your clothes?”

  Nya put her hands on her hips. “I was trying to find some pajamas when you came in. And how did you get in anyway? Victor locked the door when he left.”

  “Victor was in your room.” His voice turned deadly.

  “It wasn’t as if I invited him. He insisted we talk after everything that’s happened today.”

  “Tell me you weren’t wearing that when he debriefed you.”