The Elemental Union: Book One Devian

by Shanna Bosarge

  “Brigit, I tried to get out.” Sterling explained. She wanted the little girl to understand.

  “Die.”

  “What?” Sterling thought she’d heard wrong at first.

  “Die.” Brigit’s smile returned, but it was not one of happiness. There was hate behind the cherubic dimples, “Die.”

  A dark shadow behind Brigit caught Sterling’s eye. Her heart leapt into her throat as a monstrous beast stepped out of the grey mist.

  It stood twice as tall as Sterling with long razor tipped arms. Its skin was a slick sickly gray with portions charred away allowing muscle and bone to be seen. The smell of rotting flesh permeated the clearing as it stepped closer. Its black beady eyes narrowed upon Sterling, its lip curled in a satisfied smirk revealing grotesque yellowish teeth.

  Sterling stood, stepping away from Brigit and the monster that had closed in on her.

  “It was because of you. You should never have existed.”

  “Brigit!” Sterling scolded the child unable to help herself.

  Brigit giggled at Sterling’s reprimand but there was no humor behind the childish laugh. She suddenly stopped and pointed at Sterling, “Just die.”

  With Brigit’s words the monstrous beast let out a fearsome growl and charged. Sterling stumbled backward into the soft earth. She scrambled to her feet and sprinted into the fog. Soaked through instantly in the damp air and blinded by the fog she was unable to see where she was going, but if she stopped the beast would be on her in an instant.

  The sounds of heavy footsteps pounding into the earth seemed to come from every direction as she stopped to listen. Her heart sped up when she heard Brigit’s giggle reverberating in the fog. She spun around to find Brigit standing just behind her. The ghostlike girl giggled again and pointed past Sterling, “You’re going to die.”

  A chill raced down Sterling’s back as she glanced over her shoulder, the beast stood within arm’s reach of Sterling. Drool clung to the fangs that protruded from its large mouth, it wheezed and its breath hung in the air like a noxious cloud. Sterling flinched when it roared a ferocious growl spraying her with spittle and drool.

  She ran as fast as she could deeper into the fog. Another giggle followed by the demon’s roar ushered her into the void. The ground changed from the soft floor of the valley to one filled with roots that ran like a spider’s web across the moist earth.

  She knew there was a forest right in front of her, but she dared not slow down. The root system became more pronounced now that she grew closer to the forest. She jumped and hurdled herself over the twisted roots stumbling once when her chemise caught on a knot growing from a fallen tree. She picked herself up ignoring the scrapes to her hands and knees.

  The beast’s growl seemed closer than before. Sterling glanced over her shoulder again and let out a surprised scream when again she found Brigit only steps behind her. The girl was standing alone in the fog, her cold blue eyes filled with menacing enjoyment at Sterling’s attempts to flee. She’s toying with me. Brigit’s laughter followed Sterling as once again she renewed her efforts.

  Running through the forest, Sterling was caught off guard when the ground suddenly gave way and her legs fell through a hole in the dirt. The crusty layer of earth gave way to Sterling’s weight and she fell into a dark crevice. Dirt and debris rained down on Sterling from where the hole had opened. Roots jutted out of the earth, poking Sterling in the back where she landed. Sterling pushed herself upright into a sitting position. The crevice was dark, she was only able to see a few feet in either direction. She was thankful the fog had not permeated this far down otherwise she would be completely blind.

  Sterling looked around and could see that there was just a crust of hardened earth where she fell through. She imagined the ground had hardened over many years where the roots of the trees had grown together. When the trees died all that remained was that thin layer of dirt held together by the remnants of the root system. There was no way she would easily climb out since the ground above was at least twice her height. She felt along the wall but found no handholds or footholds since the walls were soft and gave away easily when she tried to climb out.

  “Damn it!” she cursed when she slid back down into the darkness of the crevice.

  If only she could see, then she would be able to find a proper way out.

  Sterling stopped to think. She flexed her aching hands and realized that she now could see her hands and the earth beneath her feet. Sterling glanced up and could not contain the smile that spread, “Finally some luck.” The moon’s light pushed away the fog and shone like an angelic beacon through the small hole she’d fallen through. Though the moon shed some light into the dark crevice it did not reach beyond where Sterling stood.

  She needed a firm hand hold to climb her way out. She felt along the wall until her fingers felt something hard and round. A rock! She felt around and was pleased to find more of the moss-covered stones. She tested the first with her foot and was thrilled when it held her weight. She carefully and tentatively pulled herself up until she found the next foothold, her fingers digging into the soft earth searching for another stone that would hold her weight. She was nearly there, nearly to the surface. All she needed to do was knock the thin crust of earth away, so she could climb up and out of the dark hole.

  Her fingers barely reached the ceiling of earth, but she was able to grab hold of the roots and pull, but the ground above held firm. She yanked again and nearly slipped but she pulled herself flush to the wall to keep from slipping to the bottom. Reaching for the roots again, she took a firm hold and pulled until the earth began to crumble. She closed her eyes as bits of debris fell into her face causing her to cough as she inhaled the dust. One more yank and she’d have it. She pulled, and a large piece fell away revealing the moonlit sky above the trees that shaded the forest.

  “Finally,” she huffed, out of breath from hanging on to the wall.

  A giggle sounded above her, and Sterling’s heart sank as Brigit appeared on the ledge. “You’re going to die,” she whispered as she stomped down on Sterling’s fingers. Sterling lost her grip and tumbled to the bottom of the crevice, landing hard on her bottom, knocking the breath out of her. She squinted in pain for a moment and then slowly opened her eyes.

  Her eyes widened as a bevy of emotions shot through her mind: fear, guilt, sadness, and the last to take a firm grip was terror. “No,” she muttered past parched lips. She recoiled as she realized that the faces of those killed by the Severon lined the wall of the crevice. Mother Anwell, Sister Treva…a sob shook her body. All the sisters and all the faces of the little girls burned to death by Engram. “Hemi,” Sterling said when she saw the man who had raised her.

  “It’s your fault.” Sterling screamed when she realized Brigit stood beside her in the dank hole. And then all at once the eyes of those she had loved opened in unison and looked at Sterling. “You’re going to die,” they all said at once, in a chorus of death as the sky went black and the monstrous beast attacked.

  Brom was woken from his sleep by a moan from Sterling’s room. He yawned and sat up in the bed. This wasn’t the first time her nightmares had woken him. Her nightmares had increased since the incident with Gilda and for the past five nights it had become a routine for him to visit her room to settle her down. The first night both Orrven and Moira had come charging in the room at Sterling’s desperate cries, but after the third night his sister and brother-in-law had left her in his hands.

  Out of habit he picked up Tryg on his way to Sterling’s room. Opening the door, he walked over to the bed to find Sterling curled in a ball, tears streaming down her face and a deep furrow marring her smooth forehead. He leaned Tryg against the wall and sat on the side of the bed.

  “Sterling,” Brom whispered her name and ran his hand over her close-cropped hair, “wake up.” She was a heavy sleeper and it was difficult to wake her from the dreams that seemed to consume her nights.

  “No,” another tear slipped pa
ssed her lashes, “Brigit, I’m so sorry.” She mumbled in her sleep.

  Brom wondered who this Brigit was. Sterling had mumbled the name on more than one occasion. That along with many other names, all girls. Brom suspected they were the orphans Engram accused her of murdering. If Brom had to guess, he’d say it was Engram that murdered them.

  Her hand, as if on its own sought out Brom’s touch. When he took her hand in his, her grasp tightened in his, too afraid, he thought, to let go. As Brom sat there watching her he noticed her breathing increase, as if she were running from some great beast. Sweet beaded her forehead, dampening the newly cut hair.

  “No,” Sterling mumbled again. The single word held such despair that Brom’s heart felt a pang at Sterling’s misery. What is it that consumes your nightmares? Brom thought, leaning against the headboard, he closed his eyes. “Hemi,” Brom’s eyes shot open at the name that escaped her lips.

  Hemi? Brom knew of only one person with that name, but it had been so long ago.

  Brom was deep in thought when a scream suddenly ripped through Sterling. Her fingers tightened around his hand in desperation. The ashes that had been smoldering in the fire place were suddenly engulfed, the flames licking at the hearth and the mantel, blackening the wood. Brom released Sterling’s hand and threw a vase of water on the fire. Smoke filled the room and he threw open the windows.

  Brom rushed back to Sterling’s side, her silver eyes stared up at him in confusion, “You’re safe,” He said, sitting beside her. She immediately crawled into his lap and buried her face against his chest. Tears streaming down her cheeks as sobs shook her tiny body.

  Devians. Brom shook his head. Their ability to control the elements was dangerous. He wondered if Sterling was even aware of her Devian abilities. She could have easily attacked Engram with fire while in Sionaad, but she’d been held for nearly six months. He would discuss it with her the next chance he had. Brom leaned against the head board again and held Sterling until she finally fell into a restful sleep.

  26

  Phayo Venato

  Outskirts of Flint - Southern Duenin

  Six Days Later

  Dan’Ruok, 15th Turcia, 1021

  It was just as he thought. The Orom was furious.

  Engram stared at Orom Tydar’s angry signature on the parchment. He read his orders again, then crumpled the paper, sending the wax seal fragmenting to the floor. His orders were to bring the girl or the Shard back or not to return at all. If it hadn’t been for that damn Kai’Varian he would have had her, but that savage had intervened, and Engram had lost four of his men.

  Their attempts to infiltrate the forest of Kai’Vari had been stymied at every turn. The Kai’Varians were persistent with their defense of the border, keeping them off their lands. Only one man, Phayo Venato, had been successful in his attempt to sneak past the hulking barbarians. Phayo had seized the opportunity when the Kai’Varians were distracted by a wailing of horns. He’d discovered the girl had been taken to one of the Kai’Varian Holds, Pan’Dale. It was unfortunate that the Pan’Dales were tasked with the protection of the border between Kai’Vari and Duenin.

  “Where is Phayo?” Engram asked of the guard that stood just outside his tent. “Find him.”

  “Yes, Commander.”

  Phayo, a lad of only twenty-two summers, always came through for him. Phayo had found Sterling’s trail after she disappeared from Shee and again after she escaped Sionaad. Engram knew that the Severon tracker was the only one he could count on.

  The flap raised as Phayo stepped into the large tent. “You called for me, Commander?”

  The low candlelight reflected in Phayo’s blonde hair and highlighted the large scar on his exposed arm. He had received that wound from a wolf attack. Phayo had killed the wolf and would wear the animal’s pelt while tracking. He generally kept to himself and was an enigma to the rest of the unit. He had become known as the White Wolf among the men.

  Engram had recruited Phayo when he was just seventeen, after a Devian had murdered his parents, older brother, and little sister. Engram had cultivated the boy’s talents and his anger toward the silver-eyed people of Fin’Varrar. Engram was thrilled that Phayo had made it his personal mission to hunt down every Devian they had a lead on.

  “The Orom has demanded that we find the Shard, this fifth key,” Engram said as he paced the tent. “It seems that backstabbing Beracian bounty hunter stole it when we captured the girl.” Engram turned to Phayo. “I need for you to find him and bring me the key.”

  “And what of the bounty hunter?”

  “I care not what you do to him, just bring me the key.”

  “Then I will take my leave.” Phayo bowed and exited the tent.

  Efficient and deadly, Engram thought. He was very pleased that Phayo was a Severon.

  Engram rubbed the ache in his neck that had plagued him this past week. Probably where the blade will hit, he thought. If he didn’t return with one or the other he was certain that the Orom would make sure that his head would be separated from his body. It angered him every time he thought how close he’d been to having both the girl and the key in Shee. Sterling had been right at his fingertips, but she managed to slip through his grasp repeatedly. His anger was at a burning point. If Phayo did not return with some news of Kellen Leiten’s whereabouts, he feared it would boil over.

  27

  Eye for an Eye

  Pan’Dale Holdings

  Dan’Kell, 17th Turcia, 1021

  Brom paused just inside the Great Hall. Moira and Orrven sat with their heads together mulling over some papers. The sun was barely above the trees and Gavin was already dogging him about joining him on the next graekull hunt.

  “Come on Brom, let me go with you.”

  “You are not ready,” Brom was tired of repeating himself. “You’ve barely learned any of your chants, you can’t draw the sendoa, and your sword experience is lacking. Do you actually believe I would let you go on a hunt with me?”

  “We’ve been here for nearly two weeks, when will you start teaching me the chants?” Gavin’s whining voice wore on Brom’s nerves.

  “I’ve already told you twice,” Brom said, walking toward his sister and Orrven. “I’ll train all three of you when Gregor arrives with the Ar’Bethnot and Fal’Barbner nor’Veillen.”

  “I can do it,” Gavin pleaded again. “Just let me try.”

  “Absolutely not,” Brom shook his head.

  “But, how am I supposed to learn if you don’t let me join you on a hunt?”

  “What is this about?” Orrven asked.

  Gavin threw his arms out, “Brom refuses to let me join him on a graekull hunt.” Gavin pouted, “I’m ready.”

  “Can you not train Gavin before they get here?” Moira asked.

  Brom shook his head, “Team work is essential when battling graekull. If the team is off it could lead to fatal mistakes.”

  “Surely it wouldn’t hurt to-,” Moira started.

  “It’s a Veillen matter, we should stay out of it.” Orrven interrupted. Moira opened her mouth to protest, but Orrven interrupted her again, “Though, if you want to practice the sword, you can go see Rory. He is a master swordsman and always willing to train the young warriors.”

  “May I?” Gavin asked Brom, his eyes alight with excitement. Brom affirmed his permission with a dismissive grunt. At least I won’t have to listen to him for a bit, Brom mused.

  Gavin turned and ran from the room with a childlike exuberance.

  Brom pinched his nose between his eyes. Moira felt for Brom, having to keep Gavin’s energy under control could drain even the most stalwart of men.

  “I don’t know how or why you’ve become a Tarkain, your patience is non-existent,” Orrven chuckled at Brom’s exasperation.

  Moira playfully punched Orrven in the shoulder, “Brom is known for his patience, but Gavin could wear on the patience of a rock.”

  Brom smiled at his sister’s remark. “I can only hope he will settl
e down once Gregor arrives with the other two nor’Veillen.”

  “They were delayed in Sela’Char?” Moira asked.

  “Aye,” Brom sighed again, “the Ar’Bethnot was called to the Capital to meet with his father.”

  “Will the delay affect your travels to Var’Khundi?”

  Brom shook his head, “No, we are not due in Var’Khundi until the first Dan’Yin of Perditio.”

  “You’ll be here another month,” Moira smiled, “and you’ll be here for the new year.” Moira turned to Orrven, “We should plan a celebration for your men. They’ve worked hard this year.”

  “Perhaps,” Orrven said, examining a stack of papers in front of him. “We’ve taxes to pay to Sela’Char by the end of the year.”

  “Surely, we have some to spare for a feast,” Moira looked over the papers. “What about your training fees?”

  “We should have enough after the fees are paid,” Orrven agreed.

  “Yay,” Moira clapped her hands, “we’ll invite the whole village and give the servants the day off.”

  Orrven opened his mouth to reply, but stopped when Gilda stepped into the room, a heavy tray in her hands. Moira turned her attention to their old nurse, “Are you taking Lirit her breakfast?”

  “Yes, milady,” Gilda answered with a slight smile, “the little miss requested pancakes and apples this morning.”

  “Very good, thank you Gilda.” Moira smiled.

  Brom was happy to see the smile on his sister’s face. She’d been down ever since the incident with Gilda and the girl. Brom didn’t regret bringing Sterling to Moira, but he didn’t like seeing Moira unhappy.

  Gilda gave a small curtsey before leaving the room.

  Moira’s smiled faded as she stared after Gilda, “I worry about her. She has seemed disheartened and distracted since Brom brought Sterling to us.”

  “Her son was murdered by a Devian,” Orrven reminded Moira. “I’m sure Sterling’s presence continues to weigh heavily on Gilda.”