by Raine Thomas
Similarly, his Aunt Olivia and Uncle James could communicate with animals and control them with their minds. But kragens were almost as intelligent as humans, making them immune to the abilities of Tiege’s powerful relatives.
His Aunt Amber and Uncle Gabriel could heal any wound. Aunt Amber once brought his mother back to life. If they had reached Tate, they could have healed her.
His parents as well as his aunts and uncles all had the ability to control the elements, traits that had become a fundamental skill for their children. The Kynzesti were elementals, beings with the ability to in some way manipulate the elements.
And even that hadn’t saved Tate.
Tiege’s mother had been placed on bed rest by Quincy upon their return from the search for Tate. She had started bleeding, and Quincy feared that even with Aunt Amber and Uncle Gabriel’s healing abilities, the strain she was under would cause her to lose the babies she carried. His father was alternately trying to take care of Tiege’s siblings and his mother, leaving little time for him to counsel Tiege. Which didn’t bother Tiege in the least.
The fact was, he was in an emotionless void. From the moment he reached that clearing and Tate’s feather landed by his boot, he hadn’t spoken more than a few words to anyone.
The feather was, to him, a symbol of his sister. She was light-hearted and fun, free-spirited and open-minded. She was encouraging and adventurous and pushed him outside of the boundaries implemented by their parents so they could experience new things.
She was the light.
And now she was gone.
He sensed Clara Kate’s approach, but didn’t stop twirling the feather. His eldest cousin had transitioned back to the Estilorian plane along with the Corgloresti elder, Ini-herit, so they could attend Tate’s funeral. C.K. had been engaged in numerous closed-door conversations with the elders since her return, so he hadn’t seen her much.
From what Tiege understood of what everyone around him discussed in hushed tones, archigos Ini-herit had retained none of his human awareness upon returning to the Estilorian plane. That meant his attempt to relearn emotions like his Uncle Gabriel did so many years ago hadn’t worked. Any other time, Tiege might have felt sorry for the elder. It sucked that he had given up eighteen years of his existence for nothing, after all. Certainly, Tiege would normally have tried to console C.K., since his cousin had reportedly made more than a casual connection with the human Ini-herit.
Instead, he felt nothing.
C.K. didn’t speak now. But she put an arm around his waist and leaned over to rest her face against his bicep. He knew it was an attempt to offer him support, and that she probably needed consoling herself. She and Sophia were as much siblings to him and Tate as they were cousins.
But he couldn’t share in her pain. Not yet.
“No one can know what you’re going through, Tiege. But you know we all loved Tate.”
Because her voice hitched, he knew she paused due to emotion. He twirled the feather and waited for her to continue. It was several minutes before she spoke again.
“I’ll always regret that I wasn’t here. I can’t even remember the last words I said to her.”
He, however, remembered exactly what he last said to his sister. He told her, “Your skills aren’t sharp enough.” Those words had been realistic…as well as negative and unsupportive.
“Tiege,” C.K. said, “if there’s anything I can do to help, you let me know, okay?”
Though there wasn’t a thing she could offer him, he nodded. He watched the sun crest the horizon, bathing the flowers in an orangey-pink glow. He had been waiting for this moment. It was Tate’s favorite time of day. She always said the sunrise filled the day with promise.
As though sensing she should, C.K. finally lowered her arm. “I love you, Tiege,” she said.
And left him to watch the sunrise alone.
Zachariah repacked his satchel after eating a light meal. Though it was still afternoon, the cave where he had chosen to make his home for a few days was completely dark. That didn’t bother him. His life over the past five decades had been largely spent in the dark.
He rarely stayed anywhere longer than a few days at a time. The longer he remained in a location, the more he risked discovery. The Waresti continually patrolled the mainland, so the only way to avoid them was to keep moving. It was another way of life to which he had become accustomed.
As he secured the ties to his satchel, his mind turned again to the tracks he found several days ago. They had rested at a crossroads, going in the opposite direction he intended to travel. With what he told himself was idle curiosity, he had registered that there were at least thirty unique footprints. Most of the prints were large and heavy-footed, indicating they had been made by males. But one set was small and made by someone light of weight. Probably a female.
None of his business, he thought then and reminded himself now.
Still, he couldn’t prevent himself from reflecting again on Luvania’s tortured form, remembering how frail she had felt in his arms as he carried her to the platform. She had been sorely abused. But there was no knowing how long ago those footsteps had been made, he told himself once again, or that they were made by the same males who had done those despicable things to her. There was nothing more he could do for her now in any case.
He had made the right decision to continue in the direction he intended, ending up in this cave. And that was that.
Now, he stood and lifted the satchel in anticipation of setting off. He forced the image of Luvania from his mind, knowing the other Estilorians would be doing what they could to find her murderers.
He hadn’t taken four steps when he sensed Nyx in his mind. His companion had been gone for nearly two weeks, a rare occurrence. Because she had done the same disappearing act once before, however, he hadn’t been concerned to find her gone. As he once again set his satchel down to wait for her arrival, he wondered how successful her hunt had been this time.
They couldn’t share thoughts, but he had a strong connection to her nonetheless. The connection had resulted just after she nearly killed him.
At the time, he had thought that death was what he wanted. She had managed to convince him that living was really a better option, after all. It had been a very hard lesson learned.
They had been together ever since. He had no idea what compelled her to stick around. There were certainly more stable and less surly beings on the plane. And her kind usually enjoyed solitude and long spans of inactivity, whereas he was constantly on the move. For some reason, though, she seemed to enjoy the diversity.
He heard her movements as she entered the complex cave system and followed her senses to reach him. Although he hadn’t known when or if she would return, he had selected this location, as he had every other one over the past forty-nine years, in anticipation of her need for space. There was an unusual hitch in her gait that told him she hadn’t come back empty-handed. The realization made him groan inwardly and glance around the cavern. Fortunately, there was an underground spring nearby in case things got messy.
The first time she disappeared, he thought she was gone for good. She hadn’t ever left for more than a few hours at a time, and that time, her absence lasted more than a week. They had been traveling together nearly twenty-five years at that point. He assumed she’d just grown bored and moved on.
He could admit he’d missed her. She had been his only companion for over two decades. The relief he’d felt when she returned was short-lived, however.
For some reason, Nyx had found it necessary to bring him back a gift. As that gift was a huge, dead buck that could feed a small army, he had been less than enthused. Still, it was the only way she really knew to express an apology for her unexplained absence, as well as her appreciation for his companionship. He could hardly judge her for it. He had ultimately made what use he could out of her “gift” and then left the rest for the wildlife.
With them currently being underground, he wondere
d what the hell he’d do with an animal carcass this time.
She soon appeared, her long, graceful, serpentine body sliding quietly into the chamber with the light click of talons on the stone ground. Her diamond-colored eyes reflected even in the utter darkness. She saw just as well in this environment as he did.
He didn’t speak, but held out a hand in greeting.
She approached, her large, black head nudging his hand as she made a sound in her throat that he knew indicated contentment. He ran an appreciative hand over her smooth scales. They were still warm from the sun.
Then the smell hit him.
“Hellfire, Nyx,” he exclaimed, stepping back as though it would help him escape the stench. He covered his lower face with the crook of his arm in an attempt offset the foul odor. “What on the Estilorian plane did you drag back here?”
At least the buck had been fresh, he thought, watching with morbid fascination as she uncurled her long, powerful tail to present him with his gift.
When he saw what she brought into the cave, he slowly lowered his arm from his face. He tilted his head and narrowed his gaze, allowing his senses to open up even more to make sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him. Then he caught Nyx’s diamond gaze.
“Oh, hell. What have you done?”
Chapter 7
Zachariah stared down at the discolored and distended Estilorian that flopped away from Nyx’s tail with another waft of choking stench. He had a decision to make, and he had to make it fast.
The fact was, he might already be too late.
Nyx was a rare breed of kragen. Aside from the deadly strength, teeth and talons of her kind, she also had the ability to preserve her prey with a natural toxin that she released through a retractable spike in her tail. Because she only fed every quarter-century, this was an ability that would conceivably allow her to create a stockpile of food for centuries to come.
Had she been more like her kind and lived alone, this would have come in quite handy. Unfortunately, she didn’t live like other kragens. As a result, she now used her toxin in unpredictable ways.
It appeared she had struck this particular Estilorian right in the chest with her tail spike. Although the wound had healed to little more than a cauterized dot as it was meant to, the damage was apparent. He supposed the positive thing about that was the toxin would have acted quickly, paralyzing the victim within seconds.
But he knew from experience that the effect was brutal. Half a century ago, when he floundered around the mainland with a distinct hatred of himself and his existence, he made the mistake of hunting the same deer that Nyx wanted. When he had gone in for the kill with his tomahawk, Nyx lashed out with her tail, extending the barb containing her toxin.
Although the barb hadn’t done more than break the skin of his forearm, its toxin worked quickly. He had collapsed and waited to die.
Fate had other plans.
He didn’t die. The toxin paralyzed him, but so little of it had entered his bloodstream that the effect wore off within a matter of hours. It was during that suspended moment between life and death that Zachariah realized he actually wanted to live. It also served to bond him with Nyx.
Knowing that he was in constant risk of exposure to her toxin, however, he had worked over the years to develop an antidote to it. Using his own blood as the primary component and refreshing his store on a frequent basis, he had tested it on animals with varying success. This particular Estilorian—he couldn’t determine much about the being in its current state—had been under the influence of the toxin much longer than any of his test subjects.
“Bloody hell, Nyx,” he mumbled, irritated that he was in the position of having to decide what to do.
Even as he complained, he opened his satchel and grabbed the vial he created earlier that day. He had figured Nyx would be returning soon and wanted to be prepared with fresh antitoxin. Sighing, he committed to his course and turned to the Estilorian on the ground.
“This damn well better work.” He knelt beside the prone figure and did his best to ignore the smell generated by Nyx’s toxin.
As he reached for the form on the ground, Nyx lashed out at him, catching him on the hand with her sharp talons. He hissed over the unexpected blaze of pain. He felt the well of blood that resulted and cursed, turning to growl at her.
“What are you doing, you blasted beast? You brought this thing to me, did you not? You might have brought a host of Waresti, as well, if they are seeking this being. Troublesome creature.”
She made another sound and slunk away, sensing his mood. He cursed loudly again and turned back to the Estilorian on the ground. When he knelt and tried to open its mouth, he had to struggle to accomplish it. For a moment, he feared he might break its jaw. Somehow, he managed it by using both hands. Then he debated what to do to open the victim’s closed throat so that he could administer the antitoxin.
After a moment of consideration, he used the fingers of one hand to press the bloated tongue down even as he used his teeth to pull out the stopper on the antitoxin. Then he poured it into the being’s open mouth.
Once the liquid drained down the being’s throat, Zachariah rose and tossed the used vial back into his satchel. Then he walked over to the spring to wash his wounded hand, which had gotten more abraded by the thing’s teeth. It burned like hell when he cleaned the scratches. He issued curses to Nyx the entire time.
He bandaged his hand with more supplies from his satchel, then turned to Nyx. Slinging his satchel over his shoulder, he said, “Come on, you wearisome animal. It bloody stinks in here.”
And then he walked away from the cave without another thought.
Like Tiege, Sophia hadn’t spoken much since Tate died. Outside of attending the memorial service, she had completely immersed herself in her experiments, holing up in the laboratory her parents created for her years ago.
At the moment, she was attempting to melt a chunk of stone using a mix of plant toxins she had blended together and left to ferment. Over her face and clothing, she wore protective shields created for her by the Lekwuesti elder, Sebastian. The test tubes, vials, scales and other implements within the laboratory had also been created by archigos Sebastian.
Typically, an Estilorian formally paired with a Lekwuesti not long after transitioning to this plane. That Lekwuesti then fulfilled the hospitality needs of his or her paired Estilorian. The Kynzesti, however, had yet to be introduced to the rest of Estilorian society, so none of them had yet been paired with a Lekwuesti.
Thus, Sophia was particularly pleased to have the lab equipment she did. Her experiments were often complex, requiring specific tools. The Lekwuesti elder had been happy to help by creating the items for her.
As she poured the contents from the vial she carefully held with her tongs onto the huge chunk of stone on her work table, a knock sounded on the door. The unexpected sound had her jumping and spilling some of the contents onto the table.
Cursing, she hurriedly set the vial down and rushed to get some rags to clean up the smoking and hissing mess she made.
Without her bidding, the door opened and Quincy hurried in. “Are you okay?” he asked, glancing around as though he suspected she was under attack.
The question immediately brought to Sophia’s emotionally fragile thoughts the event she was trying to forget. And as she wiped ineffectually with gloved hands at the spilled experiment, her ire got the better of her.
“‘Are you okay?’” she repeated, scrubbing even harder at the steaming hole burning into her beloved table because of his intrusion. “Is that all you can ask me?”
“What?”
Giving up on the table as a lost cause, Sophia threw her dirty rag into a container intended for such things. Yanking her gloves off, followed by her mask, she responded. “It’s what you asked me again and again when we were on that cliff. You kept asking me if I was okay, when what you should have been doing was flying after Tate.”
He stepped back as if she had struck him.
She didn’t care. Her own pain had pushed her well beyond the realm of rationality, a place very foreign and uncomfortable to her. “If you had just gone after Tate instead of asking me that question, maybe she’d still be alive.”
He made a sound she didn’t recognize. Before he turned his head so he wasn’t looking at her, she saw the pain she caused flash in his silver gaze.
“You’re right.” he said in a tight voice. “I’m sorry, Sophia.”
And then he walked out the door.
She didn’t even have time to process his reaction before her father entered. He must have been nearby. She took one look at his face and then lowered her gaze in shame.
“Sophia,” was all he said.
The emotions storming within her had her feeling out of control. She didn’t know how she could withstand it. She didn’t know how to handle the confusion or the despair. Above all, she didn’t know how to work through her own intense self-loathing.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her eyes on the floor.
Her father approached her and pulled her into a hard hug. It had her realizing that her Uncle Caleb would never again have this kind of moment with Tate. And the anguish that she had suppressed for ten days surged forth.
“I was so cruel to Quincy,” she said against his chest. Her throat was on fire. “I shouldn’t have been, but I couldn’t stop myself.”
“He couldn’t have saved her any more than you could have, sweetheart.”
She knew it. She had known it before she said such hurtful things to him. But he had been far too easy a target for her emotions. And now she couldn’t take the words back.
“You both experienced a severely traumatic event,” her father said, his soft, nonjudgmental voice serving to stoke her already raging emotions. “You should speak to him about it. He could possibly—”
“But he didn’t see her, Daddy,” she blurted. And, at last, the tears came in a hot rush. She squeezed herself as close to his chest as she could as her breath left her in a painful sob. “He didn’t see her face. He didn’t get sprayed with her blood.