Splinter (Trapped Souls Book 1)

by Ricki Delaine

  Eyes scanning the room again (fruitlessly, he knew), he tracked the runes. He followed them through their star burst pattern, one part of his mind thinking about what he would do if he was not able to return with the stone. Another part noting that the runes were similar to the Mamoru runes. Similar enough to know they were warding symbols. He recognized protection from evil, and sealing. Hiding and containment.

  His eyes landed once again on the woven silk, draped over the pedestal, upon which the stone was nestled.

  It had the runes on it as well. Why? Dread curling in his stomach, he stepped close to the stone again. He watched it pulse for a few breaths. Reaching out, he lifted the edges of the silk and dropped them over the top of the stone. They immediately slid off, dropping to drape around the edge of the pedestal again, but it was enough for him to see. The material was thin, as thin or thinner than the wrap he’d used before and yet, the light did not show through the weave. That was almost as disturbing as the stone itself, but it gave him hope. Keeping his hands wrapped (pointless as it was), he pulled the cloth up to cover the gem again, laying it in such a way that it didn’t slip off. Once the wretched thing was fully covered, the pulsing green light disappeared. Leaving the room lit only by the soft glow of the bordered runes.

  Swallowing, Theron carefully lifted the encased gem, bracing himself for that horrid numbing cold. And, nothing. Even the oppressive feel of the room seemed to lighten. For the first time in days, a true smile curved his mouth. Once again he lifted the edge of the pouch that hung on his belt and this time, calmly placed the cursed gem inside it.

  Now, how to get out? Though it was difficult to see, his earlier assessment was correct, the walls seemed to be smooth and flawless. Though he could see faint lines where stone met stone, there were no grips, no cracks and no way to see how the door had been opened from the other side. There must be some mechanism, a track of some kind to guide the stone doors in sealing the room so perfectly. If he pushed from this side, would it open the door?

  He looked at the runes surrounding him, on the ceiling and floor. The five-pointed star. He didn’t have any choice. Putting his hands along one edge of cool stone, where the door had been earlier, he pushed. Nothing happened, at first.

  Until the runes around the room began to glow.

  Chapter 22

  Cale was on edge. It had started out as another peaceful night. It was after the changeover, sometime after Ariyoshi had ended his shift. Cale went to fill his water skin and heard the sound of something being knocked over. Investigating, he found the unthinkable. Two guardians, bruised and bound. He'd feared the worst, but when he'd gone to check, the chamber was secure. The gem, secure.

  He released Ariyoshi, who said he had only seen one intruder. But he couldn’t say there weren’t more. Unable to rouse the younger monk, Cale sent Ariyoshi for the others in the sleeping chambers. But the sleeping chambers were on the lowest level of the temple. It would be a while before the old monk could get there, wake everyone, and bring them back up again.

  Now, after seeing the main temple was free of any intruder, Cale was waiting for the patrol to return and Ariyoshi to bring the others. Others of higher ranking in the sect, who would take over the responsibility of this. With more eyes, they could spread out and find whoever had done this.

  It really should only be few more minutes before they returned. There were three on patrol, so even without Ariyoshi and the leaders, it would be four against – he didn’t know how many. But with the silence and feeling of emptiness he got searching this level of the temple, hopefully four would be enough, until his comrade returned with the rest.

  This rain was unending. Slicing down like needles and frigidly cold. It made the young guardian thankful for the cowl he wore. He looked out into the rain. Where was the patrol?

  It was dark as pitch and the wind was picking up. Soon it would be a monsoon. Uneasily, he thought the men may have taken shelter in the hopes the rain would let up. The path could be dangerous at night. It was dangerous, in weather like this. In all likelihood (unless another intruder had attacked them, an awful thought whispered), they had taken shelter. There was no knowing when they would be back.

  A gong sounded, sharp and deep, from inside the temple, pulling his attention away from the rain. And as the first note faded, the sound came again. What?

  That gong was for the stone. It meant the runes had been activated and the ancient trap was sounding the alarm. It rang again, loud and deep, almost making the stone around him resonate with it. Now that Cale had identified it, he knew it would sound every few seconds until the trap was reset.

  Well. At least he knew where the intruder was.

  He had to check the room. Searchingly, he peered into the rain again, looking for any sign of movement. Nothing. No patrol or anything else. Just the sleeting rain. Help wasn’t coming. Turning, he ran into the temple towards the stone chamber.

  ˜ ˜ ˜

  Theron heard the noise, like a bell being rung, when the symbols began to glow. The light shifted from the soft and almost soothing white to a harsh green, flickering to blue, then green and back again. With luck, that gonging sound meant he had triggered some kind of alarm and someone would be coming to investigate. It might mean he would be freed soon, but with the changing light, it looked like this was more than just an alarm. The runes surrounding him were more than glowing and flickering with blue-green light. Theron could see blue sparks running along them now and with a sinking feeling, he backed away from the center of the room.

  The light ran all the way around the top of the room, affecting all of the runes embedded in the ceiling, and was beginning to run down the five points. The light was moving faster, sparks growing. An ominous crackle had started in the air. Yes, he had been right to worry about the runes. Theron could smell that crisp tang in the air that came after a lightning storm.

  Stepping to one side, he made sure to avoid the points of the star, but he knew it wouldn’t be enough. Lightning always sought a target, and he was the only thing available. He had better do something, quickly.

  ˜ ˜ ˜

  Running up the hallway and avoiding the dart trap, Cale could see the chamber’s runes had activated. He didn’t understand how. There had been no one there when he checked it earlier, but now the door frame was lit, the trap sprung. The spells carved into the wall had been made centuries ago and he didn’t think it had ever been triggered. Right now, lightning would be arcing around the room, from each of the five points to the pedestal. He waited. He couldn’t hear anything through the thick walls, but could imagine the sound it must be making, the deadly snap of it.

  When the runes finally dimmed, it meant the energy was exhausted and it was safe to enter. He opened the door.

  Blue-white lightning was still slicing through the room. Jumping back, he bit back a curse. From what he’d been taught, it should have stopped by now, but instead it was still snapping from the pedestal to illuminate something just to the left of the door. Cale couldn’t see anything of what was rimmed by lightning. It was roughly the size and shape of a man, but the far wall was clearly visible through the object. Whatever or whoever was there, was invisible.

  That’s not possible. Only the gods have that kind of power.

  The arc of light left the intruder, shooting to the pedestal again. No longer outlined by lightning, the form disappeared completely. Cale slammed his hand against the door to close it, but it was too late. In the ringing silence left by the arc of energy, he heard a voice bite out a word. A man flickered into view, already in the hall and crouched in front of him.

  The black-clad intruder reached out, taking hold of the guardian’s forearm, yanking him off-balance, locking his elbow. Then the intruder shoved, one leg sweeping out to knock Cale’s feet out from under him.

  Theron was ready to follow up on the leg sweep, but the larger man went down badly, his back slamming into the ground, his head knocking against the stone. Launching himself up, the Protecto
r stood over the monk to see if he was unconscious. It was hard to tell, when so little of his face showed with that mask under his cowl.

  One of the monk’s arms had angled out in the fall and was laying palm up. And under the cuff at the edge of his sleeve? The tip of something metal. A dagger, or throwing knife. What other weapons was the monk hiding? Theron thought about the poison-tipped darts in the hallway, the lightning trapped room. He’d had enough of this place. It was time to go.

  But he couldn’t take the risk of the man coming after him. Planning the same treatment for this monk as he’d done for the other two, the Protector pulled his own dagger. He reached down, to cut yet another strip of cloth. And then he was jerking back to avoid a palm strike, growling as the monk silently rolled to his feet and put himself between Theron and the way out.

  Already too close for comfort, Theron grabbed hold of the monk’s wrist, twisting that arm around and out. It forced the man up on his toes with a shout of pain when his shoulder couldn’t accommodate the movement and put Theron behind the monk. “Time for a nap,” he muttered, reversing the dagger to hit his opponent in the temple. But the other pivoted just enough to bring his right arm up; Theron’s forearm hit the hardened leather tied to the monk’s arm. Right on the mostly-healed ryouken bite. Vision flashing red, Theron gasped and lost his grip on the weapon.

  Letting go of the man’s arm, Theron jumped back enough to strike. The man ducked the first blow and wasn’t quick enough to dodge the elbow that came after. With a stunned sound, he fell to one knee. A side kick into the man’s ribs knocked him into the trapped room. With luck, the lightning would fry him and Theron could escape. But the runes were dull and silent now. With a frown, Theron threw a last look at the painting on the wall, at the woman with green eyes.

  He reached for the handle, sliding the door closed and jamming a blade into the outside seam for good measure. He smiled grimly. Turning, he jogged back the way he came.

  The smell and sound of rain had only just reached his senses, when he picked up the scuff of running footsteps behind him. He was at the outer door by then and nearly free when it happened. Throwing himself to the right, the whistle of throwing stars above his head kicked up his pulse and told him his chances of an undetected escape were now gone. Damn. Was it a different monk or the one he’d hoped to trap in the room?

  Finding his feet, Theron jumped back from the entrance onto more open ground. A quick glance around as he stood up said it was the same guardian. It also showed that the monk was alone. One good thing, at least. The light from the main entry was nearly blocked out from the bulk of the guardian monk.

  Larger than Theron, the cowled monk might be slower, but not by much. He was strong and skilled. Each strike was parried, each kick deflected. The rain couldn’t drown out the ring of their blades connecting as they fought. As the moments ticked by, Theron could feel his frustration mount. This wasn’t what he wanted. He had the stone, he only needed to get away. The rope waited for him, he just needed a moment to merge with the shadows.

  Whatever his motivation for guarding this evil artifact, the monk was passionate about it. The larger man struck again, weapon coming down with bruising force. The Protector shifted his hold, crouching to take the brunt of it on his blade’s strongest point, feeling his arm go numb from the impact. He didn’t move away quickly enough and that broad blade fell again, light reflecting off the rain that ran over its length. A clash of metal and Theron grunted from the impact, feeling his bones creak, the burn of fatigue setting into his muscles.

  This was no good. He was tiring. Using the gift twice, once to shield him from view and again to shield against the lightning trap had taken a toll. The monk was too close for comfort now and Theron was jumping back – too slowly – bracing himself for the crescent kick that knocked stars across his vision. He shook his head, working his jaw under his mask, feeling the joint crack.

  Theron couldn’t risk taking another hit like that. Already moving, he acted as his opponent’s body followed through with the kick. Only to find the man wasn’t there, and was instead launching off the crag of stone at their feet, using it to get out of reach and ready to come in for another attack.

  No more. They were still alone, but Theron didn’t know for how long. Breathing hard, when lightning blazed across the sky, he melted into the blackness that followed.

  Trying to stay out of the guardian’s line of sight, he moved toward the cliff. Adrenaline still sang in his veins, masking the exhaustion that had set in. The fight had been frustrating for more than one reason. As he backed away, Theron pushed away the nagging sense of familiarity he’d been hit with, glancing toward the tree where his salvation was hidden.

  Pain.

  He looked down to see the glimmer of throwing needles, too many of them for him to really understand, as flame burned across his chest, his arms. Too slow. Opening his mouth on a gasp, the storm faded in his ears. Lightning flashed, reflecting off shallow stone and pooling water. His mind flared white.

  Something was wrong, he couldn’t breathe. Distantly, he felt the sharp cut of stone as he dropped to one knee. There wasn’t any air. Reaching up, he pulled off his mask. The rain and wind intruded on his senses, cold and biting, but the world around him was fading in and out. Lightning lit the sky again. The monk was coming toward him. Pushing to his feet, he stumbled toward the cliff. Toward the rope. His heart was pounding in his chest and the rumble of thunder was a death knell. The burn from the wounds became a raging fire and he knew. Poison.

  You were slow, and careless, and now you’re going to die.

  Breaking into a run, each labored, aching breath was a rasping countdown in his ears. He wasn’t going to make it to the rope. He just wasn’t. He could smell the ocean and feel the mist of crashing surf reaching him, even as high as he was. He thought he heard a shout, in a voice that sounded like someone he should know.

  Lightning again, long enough that he could see the clouds surging in an angry sky. He risked a look back. No! The pouch had fallen from his belt. The stone he’d done all of this for was there, on the ground. The guardian was crouching, reaching down. Picking it up. Trying to reverse his momentum, Theron’s feet slid on the muddied ground, but he stopped at the very edge of the cliff, wind and rain whipping past him, his heartbeat louder and louder in his ears.

  The guardian had the stone, the key to the Emerald Lady’s life. Seeing it in the monk’s hand shattered what hope Theron had left, splintering it like a jewel struck in just the right place. He hadn’t taken a breath for too long and the night sky turned into something alive, rushing in to smother him. The wind howled and again, he heard that voice as he began to fall, but he couldn’t make it out. All he could see was a face with amber eyes, full of mischief.

  Until the fury of the storm finally swallowed the moon and all he knew was black.

  ˜ ˜ ˜

  The storm hit late that night, clouds obscuring the stars. Only because the moon was full, was there any light at all.

  Ria did not see how Theron could possibly make it back down the cliff wall. In this weather, there was no way he would be able to hang on to the rope he’d taken with him, let alone be able to use the handholds he had found scaling the stone on the way up.

  The lightning crackling through the sky made her nervous. She had never liked storms. Being out in the open only made it that much more apparent how small they were in the face of nature. How vulnerable. She peered up, trying to see the plateau that topped the steep rise of stone, trying to imagine what was happening up there. But her imagination failed her and all her eyes could see was blackness. The rain was a painful, pelting shower on the bare skin of her arms, stinging with the lash of the wind gusting off the ocean.

  Another flash of lightning made her jump. “Gods, but I wish I knew what was happening up there.” With the storm clouds obscuring the night sky, she couldn’t judge how much time had passed. It felt like forever. Her arms were beginning to hurt from the cold and the rai
n’s continuous assault.

  Yes, it had been forever. Her eyes searched the sky again, searched for where she knew he must be. A feeling of something like fear began to grow, tightening her lungs and churning in her stomach. It was so strong that when a hand gripped her shoulder she nearly screamed. “Mako! What are you doing here?”

  “What are you doing here?” He looked angry, which by now Ria was accustomed to. He pulled at her sleeve (jerked on it, really), back towards their camp. “It’s dangerous out here,” he looked up at the dark mass in front of them. “How am I supposed to watch over the lady if you keep wandering off? You’re being selfish – she’s really sick. Come back to the camp.”

  He was right. Lightning struck again, making her jump. The flashes were coming closer and closer together. It was stupid to stand out in the open like this. Concern made it a little easier to keep the irritation from her voice. “I know. I’m coming, I just …”

  “What is –?!” The shock and horror in Mako’s voice made Ria’s head snap back to the cliff.

  Almost as if called, the sky brightened again, for one horrible moment.

  Something was falling in that washed out brilliance. Dropping down the front of the cliff face, it was impossible not to know immediately what it was.

  A body.

  Ria did scream, then. She was running before she took the next breath.

  Acknowledgements and other stuff

  This book (for better or worse) would likely never have been started if not for the encouragement of my bff, Shelly. Thank you, lady. This is why you get paid the big bucks.

  This book would never have been finished without the support, love and input of my alpha readers – editors – story content wranglers. Omg, thank you Malia and Chris! I want to give a most gracious thank you to Cathy for her insight and suggestions on the cover art. They were so helpful! It should also be known that my tiny army of beta-readers pointed out the innumerable corrections that needed to be made (and that I’ve hopefully caught all of) and gave me the courage to let others read it too. So many, many thanks to my mom, Cindy, Kinau, Cj, Alexis and Alicia. <3 Love and so much hugses!