Odan shrugged his shoulders hard.
“I have already discussed this with you Devish. I will not continue with it.” He stopped in the center of the room, and gave him ample space. He didn’t fear him, and never would, but at the same time, no Walker ever fought another. It was not their way, and he liked it that way.
Devish nodded, agreeing that he would have nowhere to go with his anger, so he changed the subject to something that he could do.
“I told you that the Wanderers were a threat Odan. I warned you of letting them see their power.”
He agreed with him, but not for what he was referring. “Why did you not tell us—us Elders—about the Wanderers knowing about our weaknesses? Why did you hide this from us?”
Devish turned to his throne and smiled but only to his chair.
“I did not want you to fear them.” He dropped the smile and turned back to him.
Odan laughed with this. “You were never so kind to them.” He watched his young friend closely, searching for any sign of what he might be up to, but saw nothing. Devish hid his feelings well. He always did it better than they ever could. “Or to us.”
“You doubt me?” Devish bowed his eyes to the floor. He looked calm. He looked unsure of himself.
Odan knew better than this. “You have always been able to see all of our thoughts Devish. You should know the truth of that.”
“I do.” Devish looked up. He had sadness written in his eyes.
Odan paced back to the door, and stopped in front of it. He turned back around, and wanted to get back to what they needed to discuss.
“Do the Wanderers know of the golden ore? Are they aware of the sun metal?”
Devish watched him closely. He gave him a quiet nod. “They do.”
“Then they know how to destroy us. They know how to harm us right where it matters the most.”
“They do.” Devish lowered his head again.
Odan hated thinking what he was about to say. It hurt him in what it meant. The Wanderers were like their children. They were family, but now, all of this changed for him.
“Will they harm us?” He felt—deep inside his heart—that he already knew the answer to his own question. The answer was simple. It was plain. He truly did believe they would. The threat was very real.
Devish looked up, as the sound of knocking came to the closed door behind Odan. “Yes?” he answered it.
Odan turned and watched Sharlia step through the door. She closed it when she was with them.
“How is he?” he had to know.
Sharlia stepped to his side.
“He is well. He is comfortable.”
“Have you removed his shackles?” Devish watched her closely.
She nodded. “It took some effort, but we were able to remove them.”
Odan felt pleased with hearing this. “Very well.” He looked back to Devish.
“I need to speak with him.” Devish left the front of his throne. He intended to head to the door.
Odan stopped him by grabbing his right arm as he tried to pass him.
“We need to discuss what has happened with Lady Sharlia Devish. We need to know what she has learned.” He dropped his arm as soon as Devish stopped.
Devish felt disgusted by this, but at the same time, he already knew what that something was, but again, he had to stay ignorant. He had to stay within his plans. So he did stop and gave both of them his full and undivided attention.
With him like this, Odan turned back to Sharlia.
“You spoke of him seeing the Seer my dear. What have you learned?” He liked her in many ways. She was not only the head of the powerful Sharlia people but she was also very beautiful to him too. Her eyes caught his attention many decades ago, and ever since then, he gave her much. He gave her his heart, even if she never knew that it was hers.
She bowed her head some before she began. She had to make sure that she only told them about Satar, and keep out everything she had about herself. When she felt ready, she began, “The Seer informed me that Satar is searching for Permona.” She watched Odan’s reaction until she spoke the name of Devish’s mother, and only then did she look upon him.
He did nothing but watch Odan.
Odan laughed with this with a full belly. When he finished what he couldn’t stop, he just shook his head.
“And how does he intend to find the woman?” He watched Devish. “Devish’s poor mother has been gone since giving birth to him.” He turned back to Sharlia. “Has he gone mad?”
She shrugged with this. “He believes in it my lord. He truly does believe that he can find her again. He believes that she has been reborn into the flesh.” She kept her eyes fixated on to Devish, and again saw him react to none of what she was saying. She felt surprised by this. He should feel something about all of this—something about his mother—something about his father—but nothing is there. He literally looks cold. He feels nothing for either of them.
Devish turned to her with wide eyes.
“Perhaps my father has gone mad. I have long already held this belief.” He looked back to Odan.
“Of course.” Odan looked back to Sharlia. It was time to begin with the most important part of his need to know. “Which one of them—which one of the Wanderers—knew about the moon metal?” He turned serious all too fast.
She watched only Devish as she answered, “Rochie seemed to know. He was the one who brought the shackles.” Again, she didn’t believe in the need to discuss any of this. Only what Satar needed was there on her thoughts. Her mother was there too.
Devish saw her thoughts. He saw her mind turn. He felt her longing for her.
She felt his eyes staring at her, and it made her blink. It made her cringe. It made her feel exposed, and because of this, she dropped her eyes. She didn’t know how to block him. Devish and Gorhan were the only ones immune to such a thing.
Devish smiled to her with a full and firm look.
She saw the smile and again she cringed.
Odan was satisfied with all of this. He knew now which Wanderer he had to talk with. He also knew that Rochie made sense to him. He was the longest-lived of all of the Wanderers. It made sense that he would know of such things. The fact that he had known it for some time comforted him some, but not by much. He just needed to know how far things have gone first before he decided the rest. Only time will tell me, and he felt sure of this now.
Sharlia still felt uncomfortable and because of it, she wanted to leave.
“Is there anything else that you need to know of me my lords?” She watched Devish as she asked the question. He continued smiling at her and it made her feelings that much worse.
Odan agreed. “There is nothing else my lady. Please wait for Rochie to arrive. Please show him in to see us when he does.”
She gave him a nod. “Of course, but it may take some time. They found Satar a village about a day’s ride from here.” She looked back to Devish and noticed that his smile vanished.
He was now thinking. So that is where you found her father. He looked at Odan. If they will take a day to arrive than I have some time tonight to find my answers. He looked down to the floor. The white colored smooth stones sparkled within the torchlight. I have time to talk to you father. I will have time to make this right. He looked back to Odan.
“I would like to speak with my father Odan.”
Odan agreed. “Of course.” He even smiled some. “Please do not allow your feelings for him to override your senses Devish. Until we know more about everything, we need to keep him safe. Do not let him go free.”
Devish nodded. “Of course.” He nodded again, but this time with a smile. “I promise that I will not do that, you have my word.”
Odan respected this. He would never doubt the word given by one of their kind to another. Walkers never made such things lightly. It was not their nature.
“Good. When the Wanderers arrive, I would appreciate your presence. We must stand together to face this dilemma.”<
br />
Devish nodded. “Of course.” I have the time to do that. And he turned, and headed to the doors.
Odan watched him leave. He then turned back to Sharlia.
“Excuse me my lady.”
She said nothing. She watched him likewise leave. Now being alone, she had to think. She couldn’t get what the Seer told her out of her thoughts. It made her feel even more uneasy, and that told her something—something that she didn’t understand. Satar is convinced that he has found her. This made sense with his reaction and with what Kenar had felt from his mind. But there had to be more. Can it be possible? This is what she didn’t understand. The Seer said that it could not be. She said that he was searching for it, but did not agree that he would find it. She suddenly felt a deep cold sweep over her arms. It caused a chill to flow down and into her spine. Does he understand something that we do not? Does he know what we do not know? Feeling the chill, she did feel something else. She felt her mother’s touch. If he is right, if he knows something that we do not, I have to find out what that is. Her touch raced down her arms. I have to know the truth. She decided. She had to find those answers. She had to talk with Satar and find out for herself.
She left the room and made her way down to the basement and to the dungeon below.
19
“Your father was a great man Jameson. He was a great leader, and he will be missed, but you are now our leader. You are now the one.” Mantha Juni patted the boy on his back with a firm and yet gentle touch. He felt for the boy, and he was still just a boy, but he also knew that they had to move on from this. A great tragedy must always be answered with life. Life must always move on.
Jameson accepted the touch from his father’s closest and dearest friend. What he couldn’t stand was the thoughts of letting go. He found himself unable to do it. He couldn’t let go of his father’s now lifeless hand. He just couldn’t let go of what they did to him. He couldn’t let go of the pain they caused him and his family. Now that they had brought him inside and cleaned him of all of his blood, he just had to keep touching him. He had to feel him. He had to see him. He had to breathe.
Mantha turned from the table, once a dining table in the great banquet hall of Aldera, but now nothing more than a table of death, and moved towards Aldera’s young daughter. She too had been cleaned of his blood, and she too looked as death looked. She didn’t move when they helped her inside. She said nothing since being cleaned. She just sat there motionless, and unwilling to breathe. Mantha walked to her and caressed her left cheek with the back of his hand. His touch felt soft with her skin. He felt for her completely.
Jameson finally found his words again, and like before with the Wanderers, he had nothing but venom behind them, “I will avenge my father Mantha. I will find the one that did this to him and kill it. I will hurt it the way it hurt me—hurt her.”
Mantha dropped his hand. “You speak nonsense Jameson.” He did sigh as he spoke this. After all, he was speaking to a boy—chief or no chief—this was still what he was, and he was now speaking as one. As an adult, they knew of the dangers of this world. They all knew what the Walkers were and are, and will do again. An adult would simply move on and pick up the pieces, but only a boy would think they had a choice. They had no choices in this, they never did.
“Do I?” Jameson took his left hand and brushed the hair from his father’s face. The cleaning made it wet and loose on his head and it covered his eyes some. He just couldn’t have that.
Mantha would have laughed at this, but he let it slide for obvious reasons.
“You know not what you are saying Jameson. In fact, it can be dangerous.” He bowed his eyes to the floor.
Jameson bowed his head to his father’s hand, which he was now holding with both of his.
“My father died for nothing Mantha. He died because a Walker attacked him for nothing.” His tears were long dry. His face was as somber as it had ever been. However, his mind felt sharp. His pain focused it like never before.
Mantha walked back to the boy and stopped behind him. He placed both hands to his shoulders as he sat there with his head on his father’s hand.
“The Walkers have done this in the past. It is not the first time they have taken life without the need to take it. They will do it again. They will never stop.”
Hearing this, Jameson looked up. “This was different.” He thought back to what he saw the Wanderers do. He thought back to how they captured him with shackles that looked like the moon metal. He saw how they controlled it. “You saw what they did Mantha. You saw them use the moon metal on him. You saw the pain in his face and the hurt in his eyes. They did that to him.”
“I did.” Mantha let go of his shoulders.
Jameson finally looked up to him.
“We can do the same. If they can stop the beast, then so can we. We can stop this from ever happening again.”
Mantha saw the fire burning behind his eyes. He saw the rage. He saw the hatred as it smoked beneath the embers of his pain. He also had years of life ahead of the boy, so he knew that he had to be the one to make sense out of all of this. He had to be the one to remain calm. He had to stay the adult.
“What you are speaking of is treason Jameson. It is blasphemy against the gods. They are our lords. They are our teachers. They are our gods.” He even tried to give him a comforting smile, but instantly felt it fail. This was no time to smile. It would never work on the boy again.
The look only made Jameson’s rage flare stronger yet.
“Gods they may have been, one time, but not now. No god takes my father’s life. No go deserves such devotion.”
“No.” Mantha bowed his head again. He then shook it strongly. He now knew that he had to change this conversation into something else entirely. “If a Wanderer or one of them heard you saying this you would find your life short. You are our leader now. Young or not, you must speak for your people, and your people will not do this. They will not want to hear this. They still believe in them. They will not follow a boy who speaks madness.”
Donte Varus, a friend of Jameson since they were very young boys, heard this and he found that he was not one of those people and had to come in. “Jameson is right Mantha.” He stood at the door as century for his fallen friend’s father but now he came into the room and joined them. “The Walker drew blood on a peaceful village. It took twelve people, women and children obviously made no difference to the beast. We cannot allow this to happen again.”
Mantha turned to him and winced. He had worry now written heavily on his mind. The young were too hard to convince of otherwise, and he was seeing that fact again written in their eyes.
“You both are young and do not know what you are saying.” He looked back to Jameson. “Allow a day of rest for your father, and when it has passed, come to your senses, and clear your minds.” Quite frankly, this is what he intended to do himself. He wanted to mourn his friend. He wanted to forget this day ever happened. He wanted to pick up the pieces of this shattered night and move on.
Jameson looked back to his father’s hand. “I will never forget this. I will never forgive it.”
Mantha lost his patience right then. The hopelessness of youth overpowered him to this point. It was time to leave. It was time to end it.
“Fine.” He bowed to both of them. “I will see you in the morning Jameson.” He left the room and said nothing else.
Jameson heard him leave.
Donte watched him, and when he was gone, he turned back to his friend.
“I saw the moon metal they used. I know where to find some. We can forge it. We can use it to avenge your father.” He spoke with fast words, as his eyes enlarged to a great size. He meant everything he said, if not more than that. He had known of only this time. He had known only of his own loss. The Walkers took his father two years ago as their village’s sacrifice and he had never forgiven them for that. He never would, and he felt that this was now the time to avenge it—to avenge him.
Jameso
n squeezed his father’s hand tightly. The warmth that was once in it was now completely gone as death’s cold gripped it fast. He hated the feeling. He hated the cold.
“I will need it.” He stood up from the chair he was sitting on and softly placed his father’s hand to the other one on his chest. When it was safely there, he turned back to his friend. “I wish to first find one of those Wanderers who came to take the beast. I wish to speak with him before we do anything.”
Donte truly felt surprised by this request, and wasn’t sure how to respond to it.
“Who?” was all that he had.
Jameson looked to his sister sitting quietly at the foot of the table and staring blankly at nothing but her obvious pain. She looked so cold. She looked so dead. He hoped she would see again, but now, he wasn’t so sure she would. He had to give her time to mend her mind. He hoped that it would be enough.
“The blind one. He saw something. He saw the Walker’s mind.” He turned back to his friend.
“Why do you need to see him?” Again, Donte didn’t know why his friend even needed to do this.
“That beast saw something in her, my sister, and I want to know what that was. I want to know how to find it by him.”
This Donte understood, somewhat. “Of course.” He even knew the blind Wanderer’s name. “His name is Kenar. I know where he lives. I know where to find him.” The Wanderer was the one that took his father away from him, so he knew him well.
Jameson nodded with all of this, and with now having help, his rage subsided greatly because of it.
“We leave tomorrow after my father is at rest. We then will head out and find the Wanderer, and after that, we find the beast.” He even smiled.
20
Kenar had a chill fly down his spine as he saw what he did not want to see. He concentrated on to Odan’s mind and couldn’t fathom what he saw. It caused a lot more than that.
A Werewolf's Saga, The Beginning (A Werewolf's Saga Boxed Sets Book 3) Page 9