Identity Revealed: The Tue-Rah Chronicles

by Butler, J. M.

  "Whatever it took, which is exactly my point. I killed off Mara's lovers. But if you want to save your Shon, well…I'm afraid you are not strong enough. You never will be."

  "What do I have to do to save Shon?" Amelia demanded.

  WroOth leaned back, shaking his head. "It's amazing. We've transitioned from talk of the Tue-Rah and matters of global, even universal importance, back to this one Awdawm boy. What about all those villagers and Ayamin who died?"

  "They didn't die because of me. They died because of you three!" Amelia shoved WroOth off the log. She paced to the other side of the fire and screamed. The anger surged up within her as she turned to face him, but this time the cold did not come. "But if Shon dies, that is because of me. The only reason you three would intentionally seek him out and kill him is because of me."

  "Give the boy some credit, dear heart." WroOth stood and dusted the dirt from his clothing. "He probably would have died in battle or defending the palace or making some ill-advised attack. His life was always going to be short."

  Tears burned Amelia's eyes. "But that isn't why he will die."

  "People are going to die because of you, Amelia. No matter what you choose. One way or another, they will die. You must accept that. And you must accept that Shon can be saved in only one way."

  "And what way is that?"

  "Stop loving him and start loving Naatos. Make him forget that this Awdawm ever existed."

  "He won't believe me," Amelia said.

  "Oh yes, he will." WroOth chuckled as he sat on the log once again. "You would be amazed at how much he will want to believe that. You have to understand, Amelia…this is a very strange time for Naatos. An overwhelming time for any Vawtrian. He's seen women before, of course. But you're the first one he has seen. There's a great deal to distract him."

  Amelia shook her head. "That sounds like a trap to lure me in. Naatos isn't that easily distracted. And as for people dying because of me, I will do everything I can to keep that from happening. But don't you realize all this just makes me hate you even more? I want to like you. Part of me actually does. I don't like the idea of killing you even with what you've done. I don't want to be anyone's executioner. I don't like killing anything. And if I have wasted my life in this pursuit, then why should others die for me? There'd be no reason."

  Painful flashes tore through Amelia. She dropped to her knees and sobbed into her blood-stained hands and sleeves. What was happening to her? This was not her imagination. She was changing, and she didn't even know for certain what she was or what she would become. Monstrous regardless. And she wasn’t ready for the weakness that this brought about nor did she know what she could do to stop it. The only thing clear was that it hurt.

  It seemed that she spent a long time just sitting there, sobbing. She couldn't even speak intelligibly anymore. All that she had were the tears. The fractures within her widened, leaking out so much regret and pain.

  WroOth came to sit beside her and put his arm around her shoulders. For a time, he simply sat beside her, comforting her in silence until her sobs had stilled. "Don't cry, Amelia. Chosen ones shouldn't cry."

  "Who are you to tell me not to cry?" Amelia demanded. She drew in a sharp gasping breath though she didn't move away. "I am crying because I want to cry. I am angry. I am confused. And I'm tired of feeling all of this." She shoved her hair out of her face and dashed the tears from her eyes. Putting her hands over her mouth, she tried to stifle the sobs.

  WroOth smiled. "Just wait and see. Soon this will be no more than a bad memory. The kind where jokes of the poorest taste are only made over strong pots of coffee. If that even happens."

  "I hate you," Amelia whispered through her fingers, her voice hoarse.

  WroOth clicked his tongue and smiled. "No you don't, little sister." He leaned back against the rock and sighed. "You really don't. And, while I'm not a mindreader, I'd say that's what’s torturing you most. For better or worse, you were always going to end up with us. You can fight a little longer if you need to. If it will make you feel better, go ahead. But it really is only a matter of time before you come home and stay."

  56

  Teaser: Enemy Known

  Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed Identity Revealed, please take a few minutes to leave a review because it helps my books gain additional traction and find even more wonderful readers.

  Enemy Known the sequel to Identity Revealed is now available. You can pick up your copy here: mybook.to/enemyknowntuerah

  You can keep up on all the news, get exciting teasers, and hear about upcoming stories by visiting me at my website at www.jmbutlerauthor.com.

  I look forward to seeing you around and sharing even more stories and surprise. In the meantime, I hope you'll enjoy this sample chapter from Enemy Known.

  AaQar stepped back from the red stone wall, chalk in hand. This was probably a pointless exercise, yet he could not stop searching for the mastermind who wanted him and his brothers ruined. "Who are you?" he muttered, staring at the list of names and dates.

  Shaking his head, he cast the chalk aside and returned to his chair. He slumped in it and continued staring at the wall. When that Machat told them that someone wanted to enact the darikov against them, he hadn't been surprised. It was understandable that someone would hate the three of them so much that they would want to destroy their families and leave them wifeless and childless before, perhaps, at last ending them or leaving them to destroy themselves. But there was one problem: who could have actually done it?

  The simple white lines on the dark red stone mocked him. There were many who would want to destroy them, but few who yet lived and were capable of it. His timeline and the list of events took up the entirety of the south wall. He'd even had to push the couches, tables, and benches to the other side of the room.

  Even so…nothing made sense.

  AaQar cursed under his breath. He unsheathed his hunting knife and placed it against his wrist. Still staring at the compilation, he slit deep. He had done this so many times before he barely felt it. The lack of pain almost nullified the purpose. His blood was clear. It ran like water, pooling onto the table. Within seconds, his flesh healed back. He sliced again in the same spot. It was a difficult task to wear down a Vawtrian's natural healing abilities without venom or poison of some sort. Some days he tired even of trying. Why couldn't there be an enemy strong enough to destroy him quickly?

  He scoffed, closing his eyes. Why had Elonumato sent a Neyeb woman to stop him and his brothers? Not that that was acceptable. If she had been satisfied with killing only him, it might have worked. But then Naatos had to lock with her. The future of their family relied on her.

  As he healed, AaQar cut yet again. His gaze drifted along the names. Velsher had been drowned, burned, and beheaded. AaQar had seen to that himself. Berof, Tri, the Marnope, and others were likewise deceased. But more importantly, none of them had had anything to do with both Rasha and Mara. There was no need to add Amelia into that analysis.

  He leaned forward, clasping his hands together. Yet somehow…somehow all of them except Amelia had known this attacker. Or the attacker had known them.

  AaQar paused. Rising, he shook out his arm. Perhaps their secret enemy had faked his death. He picked up another piece of chalk and removed the tapestries from the other wall. They flopped over the couch thrust up against the far corner. Pages had slipped from the table onto the couch arm beneath it.

  Clenching the chalk tight, AaQar wrote out the names of those whom he knew for certain were dead. The ones he himself had killed. Then he added those he had witnessed his brothers killing.

  That left a substantial number whom Naatos, WroOth, and QueQoa had killed but which he himself had not witnessed. While QueQoa would not be able to join them for a few days yet, WroOth and Naatos could add their names. Unless one of them had witnessed the death of an enemy personally, the name would not be added to this list.

  AaQar tucked the chalk in the small pocket on the ins
ide of his long silver-blue sleeve. It was getting late. Naatos and WroOth would likely be waiting.

  Murmurs of conversation and clanging weapons echoed down the halls. It had been a full day since the Machat attack, which had led to the deaths of all the Talbokian mercenaries, stationed here. For being a relatively peaceful people, the Machat had demonstrated their capacity for ferocity and poetic cruelty. Unleashing the guaras Naatos had created to guard the passages and later to keep the villages and towns in check had been a brutal method for destroying the Talbokians. But the reinforcements had arrived. These new Talbokians had come from several of the now evacuated and imprisoned waypoints. And from the sounds of their joviality, the mercenaries were not concerned. Yet.

  That was all well enough. For the moment, AaQar had no desire to speak with them. Knowing Naatos, he had already handled matters, and it was better than Naatos brooding over Amelia and her absence.

  He turned the corner toward the common room he and his brothers had designated for their meetings when he heard familiar footsteps behind him. His hand nearly to the handle, he stopped short and turned.

  Naatos rounded the corner, appearing remarkably relaxed and assured given the tremendous strikes to his confidence in the past two days. "Feeling better, AaQar?" he asked.

  "You look better," AaQar said, clasping his hands before himself.

  Naatos's expression darkened. "Do you intend to avoid all my questions on your well-being?"

  AaQar chuckled dryly. "If I do not wish to answer them, then yes." He paused as a large silver cat padded around the corner. It was smaller than a tiger but larger than a wolf. Patches of its fur had been shaved away, and large cloth bandages swathed those portions of the creature's flesh. AaQar frowned. "Is that…a silver puma?"

  "Essentially." Naatos glanced down at the cat as it sat. It began grooming itself, rubbing its thick furred paws over the top of its head.

  "If you are trying to replace Amelia, I cannot suggest a cat. It will make you work just as hard for its affections. Harder perhaps."

  "If only that were true." Naatos held up his hand. The silver puma pricked its ears up, then reared onto its hind legs and pressed its front paws to Naatos’s chest. With a deep rumbling purr, the silver puma rubbed its head against his hand. "Surprisingly, it seems to have forgiven me already."

  "Surprising indeed." AaQar eyed the puma. "What did you do?"

  "I used one of the Bealorn capilas. It was too dangerous to risk it turning on Amelia if her scent gets masked or she does something foolish."

  "So this is a gift? Or a peace offering?" AaQar was not entirely certain that the puma would suffice as either.

  "A gift. I make no peace offerings. That's for her to do. She will return to me soon."

  AaQar sighed, not in the mood to argue with Naatos further. "I have been constructing a timeline and a list of our enemies. For the moment I am working off the assumption that none of our enemies have risen from the grave."

  "Generally a safe assumption," Naatos said. The puma dropped back to all fours and butted its head against his leg.

  "You need to add those whom you have killed to the list. Then we can look to see which ones remain."

  "Whoever he is, he will show himself soon enough." Naatos rubbed the large cat's head. "And when that happens, we will make him pay ten times what he has caused us to suffer. One hundred times for the pain he has given our wives and children. I have also completed a series of options that should provide more than enough vengeance for all of us."

  AaQar resisted the smile that plucked at his lips. So that was what Naatos had been doing. "I am sure they are both creative and brutal. Speaking of which, where is our missing member?"

  "Still with the Machat, most likely. Until that Awdawm is eliminated, her elmis won't entirely compel her to return, but they will wound and influence her. Hopefully." Naatos straightened, folding his arms. The puma butted his leg again, giving a chirping meow. Naatos frowned a little and nudged it back with his foot.

  "I meant WroOth."

  "He and I eliminated some village south of Ilskam. Then he chose to fly a little longer. You know him and flying at night."

  "Ah." AaQar clasped his hands behind his back and rounded the corner to stride down the hall. The open window at the end let in the cool night air. It looked out over the largest open range of the Mallakish Mountains and in the general vicinity of WroOth's favorite flying and plummeting.

  The mountains stood dark and tall against the indigo night. The wind cooled his face, carrying with it the scent of pine and upturned soil. All at once, a pillar of flames reared up on one of the lower peaks. It looked as if a single tree had burst into flame.

  AaQar frowned. "Is WroOth planning to stay out all night?"

  "He said nothing of it to me." Naatos came alongside AaQar. The cat followed and rubbed against the back of Naatos's legs, knocking him off balance. "Enough, Cat. Go play."

  "If you want to impress Amelia, you'll need a better name for it than that." AaQar returned his focus to the burning tree. Clearly that was WroOth. He was the only other person on this world who could light up a single tree without setting an entire forest aflame. But there was no signal in the color. The flames were simply orange and gold. An extravagant use if WroOth simply intended to ward off the cold. Particularly if he was to return soon. "Why don't you call the cat —"

  "I intend to let her name it. It is hers. Or will be when she decides to grace me with her presence." Naatos too stared out the window, but his tone was no longer pleased.

  "Poor decision," AaQar said. "If you have it for more than a day or so, you should name it. That will show that you care. That you are invested. Choose something meaningful. Romantic, if you can. Changes must be made." AaQar glanced at Naatos, half-amused, half-concerned. For all her weaknesses, Amelia was going to shred Naatos like a two-day boiled chicken. She didn't even realize how much power Naatos's mistake granted her. If so much didn't depend on it, AaQar might have laughed more. But he struggled to find humor in such dire situations as WroOth did.

  The flames on the tree continued to burn, neither changing their color nor fading in intensity. No outline of a dragon or anything else shadowed the light. AaQar tapped his fingers on his arm. What was WroOth up to?

  "Changes will be made," Naatos said. "But not all at once. And not too quickly."

  AaQar narrowed his eyes at Naatos. "Why?"

  "This is the man I am. It's best she loves that and not a false image of what she thinks I am—or worse—what she hopes I will be if she convinces herself that she can change me. Following yours or WroOth's plans for wooing her would plant false ideas in that mind of hers. I cannot be changed. I will not be."

  "I think you may be surprised to discover how much you will change. Not because she forces you, but because you will care."

  Naatos shook his head. "This isn't about caring. Of course I will care for her. I…feel already. But I have tried lying to her, and that did not work. I resent the way I feel when I am near her. I despise the need I feel, even when she is not present. But what a man promises in a fit of desperation is not always what he does when that need is sated. If I pretend to be someone I am not to woo her then when I have her, I will disappoint her, and the wounds will be all the deeper. So there will be no flowers or serenades. I am not you. I am not WroOth." The puma butted him in the back of the knees, nearly knocking him over. Naatos turned and grabbed hold of its face. "No more. Go play somewhere else. Bad Cat." He gave it a sharp smack on the nose and shoved it off.

  Tossing its head, the large cat stared at him for a moment, then padded away, its long black-tipped tail swishing back and forth.

  AaQar studied Naatos, startled at this confession. "She is Neyeb though."

  "One can love and still be angry and disappointed," Naatos said. His jaw tightened. "Love isn't quite the overwhelming suffocant I was hoping for. Now. About that fire. I want to see what WroOth is up to."

  AaQar returned his gaze to the burning
tree. "Perhaps he has found some new friends. If so, we should meet them."

  "Agreed."

  Acknowledgments

  Identity Revealed started decades ago, and not surprisingly, that means there are a lot of people I get to thank. I don't know that I will be able to thank everyone nor even explain how much I owe to these incredible individuals, but I will do my best. I'll also warn you in advance that this is going to be emotional and overly sentimental. (Also there are some individuals who would rather not be named because they like their privacy, so my compromise is that I am not including them in this directly but I am mentioning that they are greatly appreciated and invaluable.)

  I am so incredibly blessed to have family who believed in me from the start. I'm not sure that many others would take a little child so seriously. My father, Rob Butler asked me numerous questions intended to make me a better storyteller. While I loved talking story, I often hated his questions. Part of the "problem" was that he wasn't afraid to push back and point out when I was ripping off Tolkien or other fantasy authors rather than using my own creativity. He also told me repeatedly that the best way to honor the authors who inspired me was not to mimic them but to create the absolute best story I could.

  Now obviously, most little girls don't want to be told that their stories lack originality. And it is infuriating having to answer questions like "why does she have to be a princess?" and "why is it a dragon that attacks and not something else?" It took me awhile to realize that I could still have these elements. I just had to answer the why.

  And though I did sometimes grind my teeth and mutter "why can't I do it my way," the questions my father presented me with were what helped the story evolve. The greatest irony of this is that my father is not much of a reader. He's a movie connoisseur who understands stories, and he was willing to give up his time as I followed him around, arguing the merits for including a romance or insisting that a unicorn and talking animals added a whole new level.