Prophecy (Book One in the Prophecy Series)

by Lea Kirk

  Gryf yanked the knife from Kotas’s side, and levered himself off the doomed traitor. Crimson blood flowed freely into the wild grass, and Kotas shuddered. Graig’s arms loosened and he released her.

  She moved to her soul mate’s side, and Gryf’s arm slipped around her waist. “Vyn Kotas, you die this day for your crimes against the children of Terr. The Profetae deliver your soul for reparation.”

  Something akin to triumph flashed in Kotas’s eyes, and he rasped a laugh.

  That wasn’t the reaction she’d expected. Hatred and defeat, yes, but laughter? “I think he’s hiding something, Gryf.”

  Gryf nodded his agreement.

  You know what you need to do, Alexandra.

  She gave her head a shake. Dad? In her mind, a door opened like an epiphany. Beyond it, a secret room of treasures hidden for generations was revealed. Yes, she knew what to do, and it was terrible. But lives depended on her action.

  Hurry, monkey.

  She dropped to her knees and grabbed Kotas’s head between her hands. “Tell us.” Her Gift surged through her, hers to command. And this time she wouldn’t use it to heal.

  “Nothing you can do.” His voice was rough, as if he was certain of his final victory in death.

  She moved within inches of his face and bared her teeth. “Then I will rip the information from your mind.”

  Panicked horror flickered in Kotas’s eyes, and pink spittle formed at the corners of his mouth. “You...can’t….”

  “I am the Profeta. Watch me, you piece of shit.”

  Reaching out with her Gift, she invaded the traitor’s mind, searching for the one thing they needed to know. A strangled scream gurgled in Kotas’s throat, the inhuman death knell crawled over her skin like a thousand ants. He pulled his thoughts away from her questing mind, but it didn’t matter. It might take her a little longer to find the information, but she would win in the end.

  Death’s icy presence intruded, reaching for Kotas’s soul even as she searched for his secret. Time was running out. She had to move fast.

  “Alexandra.” The firm, comforting weight of Gryf’s hand rested on her shoulder. “I’m coming in with you.”

  Death’s presence grew stronger. Every instinct for self-preservation screamed at her to withdraw, but if she did, there’d be no second chance to find out what Kotas hid from them.

  “I’m going all in, Gryf. I may need your help getting out.”

  “I will not let you fall, animi.” Gryf’s presence filled her, motivating her to move faster as she picked up and discarded Kotas’s random thoughts and memories.

  It had to be here somewhere. But if she didn’t disengage before Death took Kotas, she’d be dead as well. And Gryf with her.

  Her mind touched another memory, and it blossomed open. The Defense Fleet...ambush. They were flying into a trap.

  I have it, Gryf.

  Kotas screamed, his fingernails raking her arm. His dying mind slithered like the multiple arms of a cephalopod into her mind, dragging her toward the abyss with him. Shit. She snapped her eyes open, searching for a physical anchor to hold her in this life. Instead she gazed into the cowl of Death and saw….

  “Mom?”

  Her mother smiled, the promise of eternal peace in her soft brown eyes. Something hot and wet slid down Alex’s cheek. God, she missed her parents.

  Her mother reached for her...then she vanished, replaced by a faceless nightmare. The icy fingers of the hooded figure sank through Alex’s chest and brushed her soul. A low moan escaped her, and her body jerked like a marionette. Air. She needed air but her body seemed to have forgotten the simple act of inhaling. She was going to die in this field with Kotas. And so was Gryf.

  Fight it, Alexandra. Gryf’s command echoed in her mind.

  A low rumble shook her soul as pressure built in her head. Colors exploded around her and her physical body flew backward.

  She blinked up at the deep azure sky above her. I’m on my back in the meadow. Kotas’s depraved mind and Death’s eternal embrace were gone, but her body didn’t seem to be able to obey the commands from her brain to move.

  Gryf? Where are you?

  No answer. Her pulse drummed in her ears and a violent tremor racked her body, pulling another moan from deep inside her. It wasn’t over. Death still knelt at Kotas’s head. Horror filled her heart as it drew his soul out. How am I able to see this? The traitor’s body exhaled its final breath, then Death turned its empty cowl toward her. She clamped her teeth together and raised her chin. No way in hell was she going quietly. She had forcibly taken information that would save thousands, but not if she didn’t tell someone. Where was Gryf?

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Graig’s face appeared above Alex, raw fear filled his steel-grey eyes. So not a good sign.

  “Sora, can you hear me?”

  Truthfully, no, not well over the sound of her teeth clacking together. Cripes, she’d never felt cold like this. Not even when she lay dying in that cave the day her soul touched Gryf’s. “G-get Gryf-f-f.”

  Graig looked over his shoulder, swore in Matiran, and scrambled away. Nicky’s face replaced Graig’s.

  “It’s okay, Alex. I’m here, and I can help.” Nicky’s voice was confident. How could he be so calm? He should be freaking out. She would be if he were the one lying here. Dying. “Gryf will be here in a sec, and we’re going to help you. Dad told me what to do, okay?”

  Dad told him? Another powerful tremor coursed through her, and she lost track of her thoughts. Then Nicky and Gryf were talking over her.

  “…because she carries a piece of you, you have to let me control this,” her brother said.

  Gryf’s expression was skeptical. “Nicholaus….”

  “You’re the protector, I’m the healer. I’ve never been more certain about anything in my entire life, Gryf.”

  Nicky a healer? She must have heard that wrong. Blackness played at the edge of her vision. The grey specter hovered by her feet. It was going to take her. She had to tell them what she’d learned. “Amb-b-bush. I know w-where.”

  The two men she loved most looked from her to each other. Gryf laid his hand on Nicky’s shoulder. “Do it. I am right behind you.”

  Nicky cupped both his hands just below her collarbone, and his eyes glowed golden. Alex gave him an incredulous look. His Gift has awakened!

  “Let it go, Alex.” Nicky’s presence flowed into her like a gentle opening stanza. She hoped he knew what he was doing.

  Then Gryf was there, his presence filling her, calm and strong. They were fighting for her life. If they failed, she was going to put up one hell of a fight before she’d let Death take her...or Gryf.

  Alexandra, you are not breathing. Gryf’s words caressed her mind, and the increased pressure in her lungs affirmed what he told her.

  What do I do?

  Relax and open your vital control to me.

  How was she supposed to hand over control of an automated response? Wait. The medulla oblongata was automated response central in her brain. If she focused on that….

  Her body inhaled a deep, ragged breath, and oxygen expanded her lungs. It worked!

  That’s it, animi. I will take it from here. Gryf’s presence and words reassured her.

  Her heart fluttered. She just might survive this. Nick’s healing Gift poured into her from his cupped hands like a song. The song reached its crescendo, and a flash of searing flame encased her soul. The icy feeling shriveled and vanished. Molten heat blazed outward, infusing itself into every cell in her body before fading.

  She pried her eyes open and her gaze darted to her feet. The grey figure was gone. Warmth filled her soul, and she inhaled deeply without Gryf’s assistance. She was alive.

  Her gaze found her brother’s. “You healed, Nicky.”

  Nicky swayed where he knelt. His dark eyes stood out in stark contrast to his pale face. He may have healed, but without discipline, it had drained him.

  “Yeah.” His eyes rolled bac
k in his head, and he pitched sideways into Graig’s arms.

  ~ * ~

  Gryf sat cross-legged in the long grass holding Alexandra close to his heart. He’d almost lost her. His hand trembled as he stroked her hair.

  “Captain Helyg.” K’rona approached, Juan cradled in one arm like a precious piece of cargo, blood oozing from knife slashes to the back of the boy’s thighs. Ora, Karise, and Ius walked with her. And there was the betrayer, James Trimble, being escorted by the dissenter, Ita, and another Anferthian woman. The old man’s eyes were glazed with terror. Let him feel fear. It was no less than he deserved for his actions.

  Graig lowered Nick’s unconscious body in the grass, and rose to intercept K’rona. Incredible tenderness governed the Anferthian’s movements as she surrendered Juan to Graig’s keeping. Then she knelt in the wild grass in front of Gryf, her brow creased.

  “Allazandra, you are well?” K’rona spoke through the translator attached to her ear.

  Alexandra nodded, and the Anferthian woman’s expression softened. Then, in a blur of motion, K’rona sprang to her feet. She whirled around and snatched James Trimble’s shirt in one huge hand. A pitiful cry escaped the old man as she carried him to the ground.

  “I am Anferthian,” she hissed into Trimble’s face. “I am supposed to be the enemy, yet I value her life more than you do, worm.” She pulled her fist back, poised to deal Trimble a death blow.

  “K’rona, no!” There was nothing Gryf could do to stop the unfolding drama, short of dropping Alexandra on the ground. And that wasn’t going to happen.

  Ora moved in, closing her hands around K’rona’s raised fist.

  “Do not do it, K’rona.”

  “He is a traitor. He meant to kill Allazandra,” K’rona hissed.

  “He did it to save fyhen.” His own.

  K’rona narrowed her eyes.

  Alexandra stirred and raised her head. “Please don’t give any of my people more reason to distrust you, K’rona. Let him go. We’ll deal with him.”

  Her voice was steadier than he expected, given her recent ordeal. For several heartbeats the Anferthian soldier did not move. Then she lowered her fist and relinquished her hold on Trimble. Curling her lip with obvious disgust for the elderly Terrian man, she stepped away. Ora helped Trimble to his feet and bound his wrists.

  K’rona’s dark-green gaze met Gryf’s. So much pain and sorrow haunted the depths of her wide eyes. Whatever happened to put it there certainly would be less than welcome news. She switched off her translator with the flick of her finger. “Captain, Mendiko has been exposed and executed. Premiere Warden D’etta is my mother’s brother, and my status as his niece has protected me. But that cannot last. My position is precarious, and my usefulness to our cause can no longer be served aboard his ship.”

  “My heart grieves this news. Mendiko was a good man who stood true to his convictions. I honor him for this.” Thank the Mother she had turned off the translator. Her kinship to the Premiere Warden was not something that should be common knowledge in camp.

  K’rona reached behind her and unsheathed a long, wicked-looking bladed weapon from her back, and laid it on the ground in front of him. She repeated the process with a shorter blade at her hip. Her fusil—the Anferthian version of a telum—followed. Then she knelt in the long grass.

  “I am faithful to my ymero, not the Arruch, Captain Helyg. I serve his interest to the best of my ability.”

  Ymero? Arruch? What’s that? Alexandra’s eyes were clouded with confusion.

  So you understand Anferthian now, do you?

  Her cheeks turned pink. Apparently.

  Interesting. He stroked his thumb against the silky smoothness of her arm. Since before The Leaving, the ymeros were the leaders of Anferthia, an inherited title. The last ymero was deposed several years ago during a coup by the Arruch Union.

  K’rona spread her open hands toward him, palms up. “The best way for me to continue serving my ymero is to take my place here with you and your own. My luz-ba, labu-ba, and fusil are yours to command. Will you allow me fight with you?”

  Alexandra?

  She gave him a startled look. You have to ask?

  A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, then he met K’rona’s green eyes. “K’rona Zurkku, the Profetae accept your long-blade, short-blade and fusil to be raised in defense of our cause and our own. You honor us by fighting at our side.”

  A smile spread across K’rona’s face, and she bowed her head almost to the ground. Then she rose to her feet and swept her hand in the direction of the other two Anferthian women. “Ita and Jandi will take Kotas’s body to the Premiere Warden and tell him I turned on him and killed him. I then died at their hands and was left to rot, as is befitting of a traitor. My supposed death will resolve the problem of what he’s going to do about me. He will have no reason to doubt Ita and Jandi’s tale, especially after they present him with my tirik.”

  She scooped up her short-blade and handed it to Ita, who blanched. Then the other woman took the end of K’rona’s heavy, waist-long braid, and sliced through it with one stroke of the sharp blade. K’rona turned and embraced Ita, murmuring words of consolation and encouragement.

  Once Ita and Jandi disappeared into the trees with Kotas’s body, K’rona turned back to face Gryf. The loss of her tirik signified dishonor, yet she smiled as though that dishonor did not touch her. And perhaps it didn’t. Perhaps she found her honor in her actions, not in a ritual braid.

  K’rona inhaled deeply. “Captain, I request a private audience with you. I have learned information vital to our cause.”

  ~ * ~

  Alex sat on an infirmary cot, her knees hugged to her chest. Gryf sat behind her, moving his hand up and down her spine. His Gift to calm was a godsend for her frayed nerves.

  Nicky had healed. Somehow, something had triggered his Gift, and he’d snatched her from Death’s grip. She glanced toward the cot where K’rona had placed her brother before she retreated to stand with Graig against a wall. He slept under the control of dormio until Dante could attend to him.

  At another cot, the healer worked to correct the muscular tissue damaged in Juan’s leg. An occasional sniffle punctuated the quiet infirmary, but the little boy hadn’t cried once since his rescue. It probably helped that Dante had diagnosed the wounds as one-hundred percent treatable.

  Gryf shifted, his arms wrapping all the way around her as he pulled her back against his chest. For once his body felt warmer than hers. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to relax against him.

  Are you comfortable? Gryf spoke through thoughts. Rough stubble scuffed her cheek.

  This is…weird, Gryf. We’re talking through telepathy like it’s nothing.

  So it would seem. Gryf gave her a gentle squeeze as if to express his pleasure with their newest ability.

  I should be freaking out. So should you. What’s wrong with us?

  His chuckle rolled through her mind.

  “I am going to wake Nick now, Alex.” Dante’s passing created a gentle swirl of air.

  Alex turned toward Nicky’s cot, and Gryf moved with her.

  Dante touched a finger to Nicky’s temple. “Evo.”

  Her brother’s eyes popped open at Dante’s command.

  “How do you feel, Nick?” asked Dante.

  “Um, okay, I think.” Nicky rubbed his eyes, then propped himself up onto his elbows and peered at her. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, thanks to you.” She gave her brother a grateful smile.

  Dante sat on the edge of Nicky’s cot. “I must compliment you on that extraordinarily advanced bit of work. Impressive for a trained healer; astounding for one who is untrained,”

  Nicky pushed himself to sit upright. “I’m going to live then, Doc?”

  “Indeed. So will your sister and Gryf, thanks to you.” Dante furrowed his brow. “You understand that your Gift cannot be turned off, so to speak?”

  “I’ll
live with it.” Nicky’s voice turned terse. Alex caught her bottom lip between her teeth. Live with it, yes. Live with it happily, not likely. He’d never wanted the ability in the first place.

  “How did you even come up with the idea that you could accomplish such a feat?” Dante asked.

  Nicky hesitated, then blew out a resigned breath. “Ora and I got to the meadow just when Alex kicked Kotas in the head. I ran like hell to get to her, but then—it was weird—it kinda felt like something popped inside me.” He looked over at Alex and tapped his temple with two fingers. “That’s when I heard Dad’s voice, in my head. He talked to me the entire way across the meadow, telling me what to do for you. And I knew I could do it.”

  So that’s how it happened. “Sounds like Dad was a busy man out there. He was the one who showed me how to mind read Kotas.” She shot a narrow-eyed glare at Dante. “Myth my ass.”

  “What you did was not mind reading so much as mind ripping,” Dante clarified. “There has always been much debate as to the possibility of forcing information from another’s mind; however, no real evidence existed before today.”

  “You mean that in all the centuries since The Leaving, no Matiran has done this—even accidently?” That seemed hard to believe.

  “Matirans are not able to do this, Alex. Healers can mind browse a newly-deceased person, though it is seldom done, as the results are often less conclusive than what you did today.” Dante shrugged. “The potential ripping ability in descendants of a Matiran-Terrian union is only speculation.”

  “Well, there have to be some of those on Matir, Dante.”

  “Of course there are, however all of them are heavy on the Matiran ancestry, whereas you are ninety-nine percent Terrian. My point is that there are no records of the mind ripping of anyone on Matir or Terr, until today.”

  Until her. Until she had invaded the sanctity of another’s mind, tore through it, becoming privy to memories that weren’t hers. Memories she really didn’t want, and some were deeply disturbing. Kotas had been ambitious. But then Gryf had come along and bested him at every turn. Unintentionally, Gryf drove an already compromised mind over the edge.