“I promise,” Maslar and Andar said at once. “We will protect them with our lives. We swear it to you.”
Epilogue
Janelle stood outside Andar’s home, staring longingly at the huge tree that had sheltered her for so many months.
“I can’t believe that this is the last time I’ll see you,” Janelle whispered, her heart breaking. Maslar and Andar faced her, the young tucked in each of their arms.
“We could never repay you for this,” Andar responded. He blinked rapidly, holding back his own sorrow.
Maslar nodded. “You have given us the greatest joy that we will ever know. You have given us new life and new hope. You have healed the wound in my heart.”
“And you have given me the greatest gift also. You have taught me to love and you have given me this young to raise. You have made it possible for our species to have a future again.”
Janelle stifled a sob. She had promised herself that she was going to remain strong in their parting. She stepped forward, embracing Maslar first, careful of the young, and then Andar second. She stooped and kissed the bald head of Andar’s young and then the ridged cheek of Maslar’s.
“I love you, sweet babies,” she said brokenly. The tears came then and she wiped them away with the back of her hand.
“Oh, Janelle. You have a whole life waiting for you back on Earth,” Andar encouraged her. She could see in his eyes the sorrow in his own heart. It matched hers.
“I know. I’ll never be able to forget you. I’ll always wonder if my young are well and what they look like. How you both are. If you’re well and happy.”
Maslar nodded. “As we will think of you. Don’t let that stop you from living a full life. This was a moment in time that we all needed to heal. Destiny brought us together for a reason. We can’t fully know it now, but you will in time.”
Andar gently reached out and stroked Janelle’s cheek. She knew she had to go soon. The pods would be leaving and she was expected back at the cave to be washed and dressed in her own clothing and sent on her week-long space journey back to Earth.
“We will always be with you in your dreams and in your heart. If you focus on us, you will feel us. You will know that we are alive and well, and that we are thinking of you often and that we carry a part of you with us also. That connection is strong and can never be broken. You will always have these memories, and these young will always be a part of you.”
“Yes, Janelle. That’s right.” Maslar nodded. “If you focus hard, you will always know that we are with you. Never forget that.”
Maslar and Andar held out their arms and she stepped into the ring, holding tight to the young that could never fully be hers. She felt safe and protected and loved. Part of a family for the first time in her life. She finally understood that had been the reason she was sent here. That Andar was right when he said that everything in her life had prepared her for this moment.
Janelle went to step away, and in that moment, the ground below her feet trembled. She felt the quake like a tingle in her feet and legs. She pulled out of the hug and glanced up in shock to see if Maslar and Andar had felt it as well.
“What was that?” Janelle asked, her worry and fear apparent in her voice.
“Nothing.” Maslar shook his head.
“Our planet trembles from time to time,” Andar said. “Not unlike what happens on Earth.”
“But that can be dangerous!” Janelle protested. “Are you sure it was nothing?”
Maslar and Andar glanced at each other and something passed between those purple eyes that she was not privy to. In the next instant, though, they were smiling and nodding.
“It’s nothing,” Maslar said again. “You don’t need to worry about us or the young. We are safe and we will be well. Klaskar has been our home for generations.”
Janelle had to ask the words she had been needing to voice all morning. She didn’t want to, she knew she shouldn’t, but she couldn’t stop herself. “If there had been no law stating that I couldn’t stay, if your lifetime wasn’t so much longer than mine, would you want me here with you? Would you love me?” Her voice trembled and tears threatened again.
Maslar and Andar’s faces were tender.
“We will love you the same Janelle,” Maslar assured her. “Despite our long lifetime and the miles between us.”
“Just because you are not here beside us and we are not beside you does not mean that our bond will ever be any less,” Andar said.
Janelle nodded. She knew what their answers would be before they asked but she had to say the words. She couldn’t spend a lifetime wishing she had, regretting that she hadn’t.
She filled her gaze with one last look at Andar and Maslar and their young. She would never forget the sight of them standing beside that tree, holding those two precious little bundles in their arms. She smiled once and they smiled back. She would remember their faces for a lifetime, cherish the memory like one cherishes photographs.
She turned slowly and without looking back, set off across the field to return to the cave and after that, to her life on Earth.
About The Author
Amelia Wilson has dedicated her life to writing. She is a firm believer in the power of love to conquer all, and her works reflect this belief. Her paranormal romances are known for their love stories, action and suspense. She creates immersive worlds that are rich in detail and full of emotion.
Amelia can be contacted at her Facebook page or through her newsletter.
http://www.ameliawilsonauthor.com/
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BONUS : PARANORMAL ROMANCE COLLECTIONS
BOOK 1: RUNE SWORD
Rune Sword
Rune Series Book 1
By:
Amelia Wilson
Table of Contents:
Copyright
Invitation From The Author:
Prologue
Chapter One – Exhibit
Chapter Two - Hunters
Chapter Three - Revelations
Chapter Four – The Draugr
Chapter Five – Interlude (Erik)
Chapter Six – Interlude (Nika)
Chapter Seven – Soul to Soul
Chapter Eight – The Calm Before the Storm
Chapter Nine – Enemies
Chapter Ten - Flux
Chapter Eleven - Casualties
Chapter Twelve – Blood Eagle
Chapter Thirteen - Choosing
Chapter Fourteen - Transformation
Chapter Fifteen - Destruction
Chapter Sixteen – The Chosen
Epilogue
Copyright © 2017 by Amelia Wilson
All rights reserved.
In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited, and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.
Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publish
er.
Prologue
An icy wind whipped across the field where the people stood, flickering torches in their hands. The laborers had finished digging pit, and longboat had been lowered down into the hole. A sheet of silver was laid on the floor of the boat, with silver shackles attached to its four corners.
From the village behind them, a solemn procession approached. The warriors and the vala – the wise woman and shaman – walked at the forefront. More warriors, heavily armed with double-headed axes, brought up the rear. In the middle, bound with silver chains, the Draugr chieftain rocked and screamed his fury and his fear.
The warriors took the Draugr and wrestled him to the pit. He was shaped like a man, but his vampire nature was clearly revealed by the long black fangs he gnashed as he struggled. His bloodshot eyes were wide with fear and rage.
He fought like a wild beast, but the silver around his body weakened him, and they were able to overcome his resistance. They flung him onto the silver plate, still bound by his chains, and shackled him at the wrists and ankles. He screamed in agony as the silver burned into his flesh.
The vala intoned the words of a binding spell as she held a mighty sword in her hands. The runes inscribed into the blade glowed brightly. The power was alive.
They placed the sword on top of the Draugr, sealing him into his grave. They could still hear him screaming after the last heap of earth was added to the barrow. The screaming would last for weeks.
Chapter One – Exhibit
Nika Graves hurried through the museum, headed for the special gallery. The last guided tour of the day for the traveling exhibit was scheduled to start in just a few minutes, and she had promised Tamara that she would be there. A long meeting with the museum docents had made her late... again.
She reached the velvet rope just before the guard snapped it shut, closing off the exhibit for the day. She saw Tamara waiting by the massive wooden gate that marked the entrance to the display, and her friend smiled when she approached.
“About time you got here! I thought you were going to leave me all alone with these Vikings.”
They were as different as two women could be. Tamara was blonde and blue-eyed, but with an edgy style that hinted at her job as a bartender on the rough side of town. Nika was lithe and elegant, with long, flame-red hair and bright green eyes. Her style was more conservative. Despite their differences, they had been friends for years.
The exhibit was on loan from the Royal Museum of Stockholm, and it featured priceless artifacts recently discovered in the remains of a Viking ship burial. The wooden gate that Tamara was standing beneath was a replica of two dragon boat figureheads. The dragons roared silently above them as they entered the gallery.
Nika had always been fascinated by the Vikings, and having this exhibit in her museum was a personal thrill. As the assistant curator, she was delighted to have the opportunity to present her passion, Nordic history and mythology, to the general public. She hoped that people enjoyed the exhibit as much as she did.
Tamara’s reactions would be her guidepost. Her friend was not a stupid woman, but she had a tendency toward flightiness that verged on the annoying. She had virtually no sense of history and certainly would never have studied it on her own. If the exhibit could grab and keep her attention, then Nika could rest assured that the general public would enjoy it, too.
They strolled through the temperature-controlled boxes in which the artifacts were displayed. The glass was specially treated to block UV rays, protecting the fragile treasures within. They were also bullet proof and airtight, which would prevent accidental damage or excessive moisture from causing the objects to decay.
“This is weird,” Tamara said.
“What is?”
“I can’t believe that they buried a whole boat.”
“It was common for a Viking chieftain or person of note to be buried in his or her boat. It was a mark of status and a great honor.”
She looked at the label on the case before them. Inside, the Swedes had created a perfect scale miniature replica of the burial as it was first laid in the ground. She pointed.
“See, the man they buried holding the sword - he was a very important person in his day. It’s just a shame that they haven’t been able to figure out his name.”
“But why the boat?”
“He’d need it in the afterlife.”
“But he’s dead.”
“He would live again.”
Tamara shook her head. “It still seems like a waste of a perfectly good boat.”
She laughed. “To each their own.”
They continued through the rooms of the gallery, following a path that roughly matched the outline of the longboat that had been the unnamed chieftain’s coffin. In the very center of the exhibit, in a darkened area illuminated only by carefully-aimed spotlights, was the central artifact.
It was a Viking sword, the one that had been buried in the cold hands of its master all those centuries before. The lighting was arranged so that the runes etched into the blade could be seen, the play of shadow making the symbols appear more clearly. Nika was well versed in Futhark, both Elder and Younger, but she could not make out the words that the runes were spelling.
“That,” Tamara said, “is one hell of a pig-sticker. That bad boy would leave a mark.”
Nika smiled but did not reply. Instead, she leaned closer to the glass, peering at the runes.
A deep, resonant voice spoke behind her. “I don’t think you’ll be able to read it.”
She turned, surprised, to see a tall man in a black suit, his blond hair perfectly coifed. He had an earpiece in one ear with a curling wire leading down into his suit coat, and he looked for all the world like a member of the Secret Service. He smiled.
“I’m sorry to startle you, Miss Graves.”
Tamara drifted to stand behind the man, but where Nika could see her face. She mouthed ‘wow,’ to the embarrassed curator, who quickly turned her attention back to the stranger.
“I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage, Mr. …”
“Thorvald,” he said, offering a handshake. She accepted, and her hand vanished into his huge grip. “Erik Thorvald.”
“A pleasure to meet you.”
“Likewise.” He smiled. “I’m an attaché from Stockholm.”
“Oh! Then this is your baby,” she said, gesturing to the sword.
He looked at the ancient weapon with a jaundiced eye. “Not mine, I assure you.”
“Has anyone been able to determine what those runes say?”
Thorvald looked back to her with a smile. “No. Not yet. Some scholars in Sweden believe that it might be encoded, which of course makes no sense at all.”
She laughed. Behind Erik’s back, Tamara was waving good bye, winking at her friend as she backed away. She put her hand to her face, mimicking a phone in the universal sign for ‘call me,’ and then vanished into the crowd.
Her companion looked over his shoulder. “It seems your friend has abandoned you.”
“Well, history isn’t really her thing.”
“Too bad.” He looked around the room, a flash of sudden anxiety in his clear blue eyes. His tone abruptly changed from warm and friendly to all business. “Please enjoy the exhibit. I have to -”
A black blur erupted through the floor, shattering marble tiles and scattering hapless bystanders like autumn leaves. Erik flung Nika behind him, dropping into a fighter’s crouch.
The black blur coalesced into a tall woman, her white-blond hair pulled back into a wild tangle of braids and beads. She was clad in a black cat suit, and when she saw Nika’s protector, she laughed.
Alarms blared. People screamed and ran from the gallery. The woman looked at Nika, then back at Erik.
“Which one are you protecting?” the newcomer asked him. “The sword or the girl?”
“Both.”
The woman laughed, revealing long, feral teeth that should never have been in a human face. Nika shrank ba
ck, retreating toward the fire extinguisher.
“You can’t do both. I would have thought you’d have learned that by now.”
The woman in black lunged at Erik, and they tumbled together across the broken gallery floor. Nika ran to the extinguisher and pulled the pin. When she turned around, the Swedish man and the fanged intruder were facing off, trading punches and kicks. The strange woman landed a roundhouse kick to Erik’s head, and when the man reeled, Nika blasted his opponent.
The intruder pulled away, hissing, and Erik scrambled to get out of the jet of chemicals. Security guards raced into the gallery from the main body of the museum, and the woman in black leaped onto the display case holding the sword. Erik produced a knife from under his suit coat and threw it at her, and the blade struck her in the shoulder.
The woman shouted in rage and pain, then punched her good hand through the reinforced glass of the display case. She wrenched the sword free of its setting as Erik flung himself onto the case, as well, trying to grapple her. The sword came up, and the runes on its blade began to glow an eerie green. Erik grabbed the blade and screamed. The sound of sizzling and the smell of burned flesh filled the air.
One of the guards pulled his pistol and started firing. The bullets bounced off of the thief, but one hit Erik in the thigh, a grazing wound. The woman saw his injury and laughed.
She pushed Erik off of the case and spat at him, “Osterkligr veithimathr!”
The guard fired again, and the woman shot up through the air, passing through the roof of the museum like a missile. Nika dropped the extinguisher and ran to Erik’s side.
“Oh my God,” she said, her head whirling. “You’re hurt.”
The Alien Surrogate (The Klaskians Series Book 1) Page 7